Single Candle
by Sheryl Rieling
The room was dimly lit, the half-moon just managing to illuminate the figure that tossed and turned on the bed. The tormented soul never uttered a sound. Just thrashed and twisted as night wore on…
Jack sat up as the room slowly came into focus. A quick look at the clock radio told him it was 0300. The same time he had woken yesterday, and the day before that. He rubbed his shaking hands over his unshaven jaw and decided he would get up. He knew he would just be lying in bed until the alarm went off at 0530, as he had every morning for the last two weeks. As he walked to the bathroom, he looked back at the bed. Most of the covers had been kicked off during the night. He didn't remember doing it, but he could still feel a thin film of sweat chilling his skin.
As he leaned over the sink in the bathroom, Jack ran some cool water and dunked his head under the faucet. Looking up, he caught his reflection in the mirror and did a double take. Was that him? He looked at least ten years older than he had last year. The gray, which appeared at his temples a year ago, seemed to have ambushed the rest of his head. His face seemed more lined than before and the dark rings under his eyes seemed almost black in the unkind fluorescent light. "Jack, my boy, you have got to get some sleep!" he chastised himself. But as he made his way towards the bed, his mind rebelled at the thought of climbing onto that tangle of sheets, and he changed course, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot.
This is not going well, thought O'Neill as he sat at the briefing room table six hours later. He supposed it was too much to hope that there was another mission on the table. Daniel was still down in the infirmary recouping from the convoluted rescue attempt and Teal'c was down with the technical crews going over the ancient Goa'uld ship he and Hammond had brought back. That just left him and Carter sitting here with the military equivalent of techno-nerds, discussing the machinery found in Hathor's compound. The same questions over and over.
"So, Colonel….the first time you actually saw the memory probe's projection was when you saw Captain Carter's projected memories of you getting pinned to the wall of the gate room by the artifact?"
Jack tried to look like he wasn't annoyed that he had to answer the same question four different ways. He failed miserably. "No. The first time I saw it work was when they asked me questions about the Nox. They were my memories I was seeing." Jack silently named them Geek One and Geek Two.
"But you had indicated that you were lying on the medical table when they questioned you. How could you see the projection? Weren't you lying prone, Colonel?"
"Oh for crying out loud, I was lying down facing the damned thing!"
"Were you looking right at it or did you have to sit up?"
Jack treated this question to a glare.
Geek Two used this pause to pick up the questioning. "Was the projection in color?"
Jack gave them a filthy look, his eyes narrowing and his mouth twisting into a sarcastic scowl. "No! I didn't have to sit up! Yes! It was in color!"
"Colonel, you're aware that we've been unable to make these things work again and…"
"Good!" Jack cut him off with a snarl. "Why don't you stick that thing in your head and see how you like it!"
"That's enough, Colonel." This from General Hammond. "These gentlemen are only trying to ascertain what happened."
Jack leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. The headache that had been with him all morning was developing into a full-blown migraine with all of the bells and whistles. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just, how many ways can they ask the same questions? Haven't I answered all of these already?"
Geek One answered him, "Colonel, if we can get this memory enhancer working, the ramifications for interrogation use are endless. "
"Not to mention the medical implications," Dr. Fraiser added quietly, noticing his agitation. "Colonel, don't you feel well?"
He waved her off with an impatient hand. "I'm fine. It's just a headache, Doc. I'm sure it'll go away as soon as this is all over." In other words, butt out. He gave her a pointed look.
Fraiser nodded. Message received. "Perhaps we should get Captain Carter's impression of the device now."
Jack thanked her silently with a grateful look. He sat back and just faded into his headache, absently rubbing his forehead as Carter began her recitation of what she remembered. He watched Sam's animated features as she described, in minute detail, the round disk that was inserted into their temples. His head throbbed in remembered pain. How she could find anything even remotely exciting about this was beyond him. Scientists!
"Wouldn't you agree, Colonel?"
"Huh?" Jack looked around, startled. "Oh, Carter! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. "
"I was just saying, sir, that the device placed on our temples was removed without anything more serious than a bad headache."
Jack just nodded and looked away. Nothing serious? I still have a scar there. It looks like someone burned a quarter into the side of my head!
Janet Fraiser now began to study Jack in earnest. "Colonel, are you sure you're okay? You're looking a little under the weather."
"It's nothing." He grimaced. "Just a headache."
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it's not nothing. You look ill." Janet immediately walked around the briefing table and picked up his wrist. "Your heart rate is racing, Colonel. I'd like to examine you in the infirmary."
Jack held up his hand. "It's really nothing. I didn't get much sleep last night. I just need to get a little shut eye and I'll be good as new."
Janet was not convinced. "Then sleep in the infirmary, Colonel."
Jack considered this for a moment and relented. Maybe if he sacked out in the infirmary he would get some sleep. He sure wasn't getting any at home. "General, if you'll excuse me?"
"Of course, Colonel. We'll meet this afternoon." The general directed a silent order at Dr. Fraiser. Janet nodded and followed Jack out of the meeting. The general would expect an update as soon as possible.
Jack lay down on the infirmary bed. He laid his arm over his eyes and tried to relax. He felt on edge and hoped he could get some rest here. "Here you go, Colonel." Dr. Janet Fraiser stood over him. She handed him a packet of two pills and a glass of water.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Just an analgesic for that headache. You look like you could use it." She smiled. And a slight sedative, she added silently. Jack tossed the pills back and gulped the water.
He looked around for a moment. "You cut Daniel loose?"
"Yes," Janet said smiling. "Released him on crutches this morning." She looked down at her watch. "He should be off to physical therapy right about now."
"Good," Jack said. Then he collapsed against the pillows and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was asleep.
Janet watched as he slept. He looked exhausted and the lines around his eyes and mouth were even more pronounced than they had been a little over a week ago when she had given him his post-mission physical. She could still see Daniel Jackson's face as he described Jack's ordeal at the hands of Hathor. "She put the Goa'uld on his chest and he started to panic. I could see it in his eyes. He said, 'Oh God…. No' and then he screamed while I just stood there and watched." Janet could see the shattering effect a panicking O'Neill had on Daniel. Heck, that would make anyone who knew him a little shaky. She herself was always amazed at how Jack O'Neill could dominate a room without saying a word. It was a quality very few men had. Integrity coupled with a quiet confidence that shone through his hardened exterior, making it twice as hard to see him laid low. She checked his pulse again. 60. That was better at least. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe he only needed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Janet straightened the sheet over the sleeping man and dimmed the overhead light. That she could give him.
Trapped in a nightmare, Jack's movements grew restless. He lay strapped on the cryo couch while the Gould was placed on his chest. He could feel it slither along his ribs as it searched for the right spot to strike. As Hathor yanked his head towards her, the snake-like alien burrowed in behind his ear. It bored its way under his skin within seconds. Panic set in earnest as a second consciousness started to push his out. He could feel himself screaming, but there was no sound. He couldn't move! "Sara! I can't move! Oh God, help me!"
The orderly came at a run to get Dr. Fraiser. She met him at the door, the screaming bringing her out of her office. "Doctor! It's Colonel O'Neill!" Janet was already four strides past him and picking up speed as she rounded the nurse's station. She skidded to an abrupt halt. Jack was thrashing on the bed, his hands clenched at his sides, his writhing body tangled in the sheets. His face was contorted and he was screaming, his voice desperate as he yelled for his ex-wife. He was arched almost completely off the bed and his face was screwed into a mask of fear and pain.
"Oh God! Help me! Sara!"
Janet immediately grabbed his shoulders and shook him as hard as she could. "Colonel O'Neill! Jack! Wake up! You're dreaming!"
She could feel the moment he awoke. He basically collapsed back onto the bed. His eyes were wild and he began to retch. He leaned over the side of the bed and lost the cup of coffee and toast he had managed to choke down that morning. His stomach empty, his body continued to shake as dry heaves shook his tall frame. Janet kept her hand on his back until he slowly became aware of his surroundings. As the tremors subsided, he leaned back onto the bed putting both hands over his face.
Janet motioned for the orderly to deal with the mess on the floor and pressed a damp cloth a quick thinking nurse had handed her into his hands. He wiped his mouth and grimaced at the bile. He looked at Fraiser.
"Sorry about the floor."
She waved him off. "That's why we don't have carpet, Colonel. It'll clean up. When you're ready, please see me in my office." She stared him down until he nodded miserably. "Good, I'll see you then."
Janet sat in her office contemplating what she was going to tell Jack. He was obviously in trouble and she had to address it right away, but she was stumped as to how to approach it. Jack was not exactly receptive to overtures of help. She absently flipped through his file. His entire jacket was filled with one near miss after another. She took another sip of coffee. That damned Irish luck of his was being spread too thin this time and he was starting to crack under the strain. She looked up as Jack entered her office.
"Close the door please, Colonel."
Jack slipped into the office, slouching in the guest chair.
"Colonel, how long has it been since you've had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep?" At his apathetic shrug she bristled but pressed on. "How long, Colonel?"
"A few days." Another shrug.
"From the looks of you, I'd say it's been at least a week, maybe longer."
"I've had trouble sleeping before, it'll go away on its own. Is that all, Doc?"
He flashed her what she knew he hoped was a charming grin. It didn't work. Not on this doctor.
"You're not getting off that easy, Colonel. This is a serious situation here. I can't ignore this or let you treat this yourself. A sleep disorder can rapidly turn into something that's out of my hands." Janet clasped her hands on her desk and tried a softer approach. "Look, Jack, if you're having trouble sleeping, maybe I can prescribe something to help, but the nightmare I witnessed a little while ago isn't as easy to deal with. Can you talk about it?"
As Jack stared at his hands, Janet couldn't help but sympathize with his predicament. No matter what he said to her, he was off the active duty list and he knew it.
"Look, Jack. Anything that's said in this office goes no further. You know that. Can't you tell me what's been happening to you?" She leaned forward on her desk, her face concerned and probing.
Jack just shook his head and continued to examine his hands.
Janet played her ace. "Then you leave me no choice, Colonel, but to arrange an appointment with Dr. MacKenzie, after the routine screenings." She was gratified to see him look up.
"What? The bark like a chicken guy? No way, Doc. It's just stress. It'll clear up as soon as I get a little sleep."
"What about the nightmares, Colonel? Do you think they'll go away by themselves?"
Jack smiled grimly. "They always do, Doc. They always do." He stood up and leaned over the desk, touching her cheek lightly. "Don't worry about me, Janet. I'll be fine."
Once outside the infirmary, Jack leaned against the wall and rubbed his temples. As an exit line, it left a lot to be desired, but it was the best he could come up with while his head ached like this. Sighing heavily, he pushed away from the wall and started towards the elevators.
Janet sat behind her desk examining the substantial folder in front of her. The subject of this prodigious amount of paperwork had just left and she was at a loss as to what course of action to take. She should contact Dr. MacKenzie, but she discarded that idea as soon as the thought occurred. Jack hated the man. There was no way he would talk to him. He would clam up and MacKenzie would medicate him and put him a controlled environment. MacKenzie would love that. Rubber room was a better description. There was no way she would allow that to happen to Jack O'Neill.
"No way!"
Maybe there was an answer in the folder. She flipped through the pages. This was hopeless.
The file was a catalog of classified missions and injuries. The little counseling he had received was focused on his detainment in Iraq during the Gulf War. After his release, they had counseled him at the same time as they treated his physical injuries. He had cooperated reluctantly. The report filed by the clinical psychologist in Munich had suggested that Jack would benefit from continued counseling Stateside. Obviously he hadn't pursued it and the military hadn't forced the issue.
Janet pushed the papers away a little more forcefully than she had intended and her message box landed on the floor. Irritated, she stomped around the desk to pick it up. Little pink pieces of paper fluttered all over the floor.
"Just great!" she ranted. "While you were out, we papered your office in little pink notes!"
As she gathered them together, one particular message caught her eye. Wait a minute! There was a solution if she could convince the general to go for it. She snatched the pink note and headed for the door, ignoring the rest of the messages still scattered all over the floor.
Hammond looked up as Dr. Fraiser knocked on his open office door. "Come in, Doctor. How's Colonel O'Neill?"
Janet took the chair he indicated and braced herself. "Not well I'm afraid, sir. Colonel O'Neill had a rather graphic nightmare after being asleep less than two hours. Afterwards, he was violently sick and disoriented. Sir, I think he may need more extensive treatment than I can offer him here."
Hammond looked shocked at the implication. "Are you sure about that diagnosis, Doctor? I mean this is Jack O'Neill we're talking about here. Maybe he just needs some time off." The last statement was added in a hopeful tone.
"No, General. I believe Colonel O'Neill is headed for a breakdown and I believe he may be a danger to himself or anyone near him when he blows."
Hammond sat up straighter, pinning her with a hard stare, "You know what you're saying? Once we involve Colonel MacKenzie, it passes beyond my control. Are you absolutely certain? This could end Colonel O'Neill's career."
"Yes, sir. I may have a solution to the career issue if I may, General," she continued. "Sir, I have a friend who is on the staff of a convalescent home in Denver. We went to medical school together and she runs a small clinic for burned out yuppies. I could call her in for a consultation and have her assigned to Colonel O'Neill before MacKenzie ever got wind of it."
"A civilian? That'll never fly, Doctor."
"Well, sir, I've thought of that as well. Dr. Giaf was in the Navy until last year. I think she's officially listed as non-active till the end of this year. Couldn't we reactivate her commission, sir? Get her security clearance?"
Hammond considered that. "It'll take a lot of paperwork not to mention calling in a few favors." He was already scribbling on a pad. "We have no Naval personnel here, Doctor. Couldn't you have gone to medical school with an Airman or a Marine?"
He looked up expectantly. "What's her name?"
"Dr. Anna Giaf."
"And her rank at the time of her discharge?"
"She was an O-5, sir. Commander Giaf."
Hammond was already picking up the phone. He directed Harriman to connect him with the Joint Chiefs and put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Doctor, I suggest you call your friend before she finds out she's been drafted from a telegram." He motioned at his door. "Please close that on your way out."
Janet got up and quietly walked to the door. The general was already speaking into the phone. He put his hand over the phone again. "And thank you, Doctor." She smiled and nodded her acknowledgment as she closed the door.
Dr. Anna Giaf was having a bad day and again reconsidered her decision to get out of bed. Life had picked today to break every piece of equipment in the facility. Okay. Maybe not all, she conceded, but more than an acceptable amount by anyone's standards.
"Dr. Giaf! The MRI tech says he needs two days to get the software debugged. He wants to know if he can take the main console with him." The orderly standing in her doorway was fast becoming her least favorite person.
"Is he saying he can have it back and installed in two days?" She flipped the pages on her desk calendar. "Dr. James is expecting two knee injury patients and it would be nice if we could have it up and running by then."
The orderly looked at her and shrugged. Waving a dismissing hand at the orderly, she picked up the phone and dialed the MRI lab as he made his escape. Her personal line was flashing and she hoped her voice mail was working now. It hadn't been earlier.
As the voice of a harassed nurse came on the line, Anna winced and asked for the technician. She dealt with this latest crisis, and then pushed the button to access her mailbox. No Messages. Just perfect, she groused. What was going to break next? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her diploma chose that moment to fall off the wall with a resounding crash. She put her head on her desk and closed her eyes, not even bothering to assess the damage. She should have stayed in bed today. Just then there was another knock at her door. The orderly again. She didn't even bother picking up her head. She raised a hand and waved him in. She knew she should have stayed in bed. It was safer there.
Janet looked at the phone in frustration. What kind of doctor doesn't have an answering service? She rested the phone back in its cradle and wrote a note to remind herself to call Anna later. She stuck it on her phone and left the office. As she exited the office, it fluttered to the floor to join the rest of the pale pink debris still scattered there.
Jack threw himself face down on the cot in his quarters. He had to meet with Hammond in a few hours. Just enough time to catch a nap without an audience. He closed his eyes and dropped into a restless doze.
He was back on the cryo bed. The Goa'uld slithered across his chest while Hathor told him of her plans for Jack to kill Sam and Daniel. He wiggled his hands trying to free them. They were strapped fast to his sides. The familiar feeling of panic began in his stomach as Hathor pulled his head towards her…
Jack startled awake in a cold sweat. He looked at his watch. He had been asleep less than twenty minutes.
'Christ' he thought, 'I'm really losing it here.'
He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was still with him and it brought along nausea for company this time. He blindly reached out to the utility table next to the bed. His hand encountered a familiar bottle. Shaking three of the tablets out into his palm, he dry swallowed them and lay back. He needed to sleep soon or he was going to go nuts. Maybe the aspirin he had just taken would keep the headache at bay. He crossed his arm over his eyes and prayed for a dreamless sleep.
Four hours later, Anna sat in her office when a knock sounded on her door. Didn't these people realize she had patients? She picked up her empty coffee cup. Empty because the coffee maker had been the first casualty of the day. She had told John, the orderly (they were now on a first name basis) that she would hit him with it if he told her anything else was broken. She fully intended to make good on that promise. She wound up.
"It's open!"
She leaned forward in her chair for leverage, pulling her arm back. The door opened slowly and…
It was a seaman. "Ma'am! I have a priority dispatch for you!" He eyed her warily. His eyes never straying far from the cocked coffee cup, he approached the desk and passed her his clipboard. "Would you sign here please?"
"There must be a mistake, seaman. I retired from the Navy last year."
He checked the envelope. "No, ma'am. You are Commander Giaf?" At her nod, he handed her the envelope and she passed him the clipboard. The envelope looked suspiciously like orders. The corner address said Secretary of the Navy.
"Thank you, seaman."
He saluted until she put down the coffee cup and returned it absently, barely noticing as he left and closed the door quietly.
Anna placed the envelope on her blotter and stared at it. She knew it was something big. She had spent most of her adult life in the Navy and knew all the signs. She pulled out her letter opener and slit the tab, pulling out the single sheet of paper inside. She was being returned to active duty? Were they kidding? How could they assign her to the Air Force Academy Hospital's 10th Medical Group? Since when were retired naval doctors assigned to Air Force facilities? She pulled out her address book and began flipping pages. She hoped the phone was working. She had a lot of calls to make. The first one was to the Department of the Navy. She'd be damned if she was going to travel across the state without confirming the orders.
The general was on the phone when Jack arrived for their meeting. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so he'd been wandering around until the prearranged time. He knocked on the door and Hammond motioned him to a chair without looking up.
"Yes, Admiral, I appreciate the heads up. I'll make sure Dr. Fraiser is notified. Thanks, Bob. Yes, and give my best to Brenda." Hammond smiled. "And we'll see who beats who the next time we play the links out at Eisenhower. Okay?" Another chuckle. "Thanks again, Bob." Hammond replaced the handset and looked up at Jack. "Thank you for coming, Col--" He stopped in mid-sentence, his voice falling off.
"Colonel? Have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Jack ran his hands over his jaw thinking he had forgotten to shave that morning. Nope, jaw clean. "Sir?"
"Jack, is there anything you want to talk about? I'm your commanding officer, but I also consider myself your friend, and frankly I'm worried. You look done in, son."
Jack ran a hand over his hair to the back of his neck, absently rubbing the throbbing building there under the scar. He must really look like crap. The general never called him son. "Sir, I honestly don't think this is anything that a little shut eye wont cure. " I hope, he added to himself.
Hammond picked up his phone. "Sergeant, have Dr. Fraiser come up here right away." Harriman acknowledged the order and the page went out thirty seconds later.
"Sir…." Jack said desperately. "I'm fine! I don't need this and I don't want it. She's going to call MacKenzie! General! That quack is going to lock me up! All that's happened is I haven't been sleeping well for a few days!" Jack was getting agitated. "Please, sir! This isn't necessary. I'm fine!"
Hammond shook his head sadly and Jack knew he was finished. Hammond had stopped listening to him. His career, his job, his life, all gone. He knew when he was beaten. No hope. Leaning forward, he put his head in his hands and waited for the axe to fall. He felt like vomiting.
Janet arrived breathless outside the general's office. She knocked softly and walked in, closing the door behind her. She took in the hunched-over colonel and knew immediately why she had been called. Hammond looked horrified. "Sir?" she said.
The general tore his eyes away from Jack. "Doctor, your friend was notified by the Secretary of the Navy five hours ago. She's been given seventy-two hours to report. How much sooner than that can she get here?"
Janet cringed when she realized that she had forgotten to try Anna again. "I don't know, sir. She'll have to find doctors for all of her patients. That could take a while."
"Doctor, I think you'll agree with me that this man needs help now. How long can he wait?
It must have been a rhetorical question, because without waiting for her to answer, the general continued, "I want Dr. MacKenzie brought in on this today. He can see to Colonel O'Neill until Dr. Giaf can get here. I can't have an officer of mine walking around in this condition without treatment. It would be tantamount to negligence."
Jack's head came up. "I'm fine, General!" He looked with bleary eyes from Janet to Hammond. "And you can stop discussing me like I'm not in the room!"
Janet didn't want to think about what MacKenzie would do once he got a look at Jack. "Sir, we could keep him here until Dr. Giaf arrives. I'll put him under twenty-four-hour care. I don't want to take the chance that --"
"Hello? Remember me?" Jack was shocked as the general continued like he hadn't heard him.
Hammond waved his hand. "Do you think that I haven't considered that? Look at him! Does he have a while?"
Janet tried one last time. "How do we get MacKenzie off the case once Dr. Giaf gets here? He won't relinquish the colonel as a patient. You know what that means!"
"Yes, Doctor, I do. You let me worry about Dr. MacKenzie. You just get Dr. Giaf down here. Fast!"
"Yes, sir!" Janet practically flew out of the office. She had to get Anna down here tonight or Jack was finished.
Dr. Warner came around the corner at a trot. Janet was not one to slam doors so he knew it must be urgent. He knocked and walked in without waiting. Janet was logging on to her computer while dialing out. "Doctor!" she addressed Warner, "what time do the shifts change at 10MDG?"
He checked his watch. "In about forty-five minutes. Why?"
"General Hammond will be bringing Colonel O'Neill down here in a few minutes. I need you to stall them until the shift changes. I can't explain right now, but it's to help Colonel O'Neill."
Warner considered it a moment and nodded. "I can do that. This had better be good though. I don't want to get in the middle of something without knowing why."
Janet smiled. "It's for a good cause. I promise. I'll explain as soon as I get off the phone"
Dr. Warner nodded to her and left the office, closing the door softly. How did one stall a general? He snapped his fingers and smiled. You didn't stall him. You distracted him. He checked his watch as he headed for his own office to make a few quick calls. It was 1617 hours.
******
1628 hours
Siler was just putting down the phone when Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond came down the stairs. Christ!, he thought. Colonel O'Neill looked worse than before. The man was a walking scarecrow. His face was gray with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was askew and his shoulders were slumped. He looked defeated. The other airman looked equally as shocked at the colonel's appearance and kept his eyes down as he whispered urgently to Harriman.
Siler stood up and took a breath. "Sir, I was just reviewing the energy output reports for the last two missions and I've discovered --"
Hammond cut him off. "Sergeant, I'll be right back. Colonel O'Neill and I are going to see Dr. Fraiser." His tone said he would tolerate no interruptions short of an emergency.
"But sir, it appears that someone's been tampering with the specification programs!"
Hammond stopped walking. Even O'Neill perked up. "What was that, Sergeant?"
Siler continued, "There's been some tampering in the program." Damn straight, he thought. And if the General ever found out he had done it, one Sergeant Siler would be court martialed expeditiously.
"Sir, did you authorize this change here?" He gestured at his monitor, requiring the general to walk over to the monitor. As Hammond bent over the console to look at the screen, Siler gave an almost imperceptible nod to the airman at the other station. The airman nodded back and typed a few keys quietly. In a flash, everything in the control room went dark.
O'Neill watched Siler as he nodded at the other airman. When the lights went out, he jumped a little. He was about to inform the general when Harriman grabbed his arm. Jack had to stoop a little to hear the words the sergeant was urgently whispering to him. "Sir, Dr. Warner needs you to stall getting to the infirmary. Dr. Fraiser told him to make sure you got there after 1700." Jack nodded slowly. With his first mission accomplished, Harriman returned to the general's office while Siler proceeded to point out things that weren't broken. That should be good for at least twenty minutes.
"Sergeant, could this power outage have anything to do with what you just told me about the programs?" Hammond looked angry and Siler lost a little of his resolve. Then he looked at the colonel and straightened up.
"I don't know, sir," he lied.
Hammond looked apologetically at Jack. "I'm sorry, colonel, this won't take long."
Jack nodded and tried to smile. It came across more as a grimace. He walked over to the other console and leaned on it. He had just concluded that Janet was trying to keep him out of the psycho ward. At least he hoped that's what was going on. "I'm fine, General. You just handle whatever doohickey needs fixing." He gestured at the darkened console.
As the general and Siler put their heads together, the other airman gave O'Neill the thumbs up and began to examine equipment that he knew to be in perfect working order. O'Neill kept his eyes on the floor and grinned again. He had friends in the most unexpected places.
1632 hours
Janet finally succeeded in getting through to Giaf. "Anna!" Janet held the phone away from her ear as salty language spewed out of the other end. When the decibel level lowered a little, Janet put the phone to her ear and interrupted the tirade. "Anna! I know! I should have called you! I have an emergency here that I need your help with! I know you're retired! I know! I know! Anna, please! Anna, just shut up!" Janet was fast losing her temper. "I have a patient here that needs you. He's going to be shipped to mental health if you can't get down here tonight!" Janet held the phone away from her ear again, waiting while her friend vented. When she heard the diatribe let up, she tried again. "Anna, this guy is special. Yes, I know. They're all special, but this one really is. I meant to call you before the telegram arrived. I don't know what happened." She perused the pink notes all over the floor while crossing her fingers. "How long will it take you to reassign your cases?" She listened. "Can you do that from here? What about Jeff? Can you reach him enroute?" Janet kicked herself. How could she have forgotten her friend's recent marriage? It was the reason she had retired. "Okay. I owe you. I'll arrange everything. Just get yourself down here. And, Anna," she added, "whatever you do, don't report to the 10th Medical Group at the hospital. You're coming straight to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Just check in with the sentry and have them page me." Janet replaced the receiver and checked her watch. Now if everything else would fall into line!
1655 hours
Hammond was getting frustrated. The problem with the console turned out to be nothing more than a short in the breaker. Siler and his assistant had caught the problem but were a lot slower fixing it than Hammond would have liked. He didn't know what had gotten into the good sergeant. He looked at the colonel walking at his side. He wanted to get Jack down to the infirmary as quickly as possible but the colonel was walking even slower now, stopping to speak with the numerous people who seemed to be appearing every few minutes. Wait a minute! Did Jack just check his watch? The general was just about to ask him when Teal'c walked up.
"General Hammond." He nodded to O'Neill. "I have been looking for you. My staff weapon was signed out of the armory but they are unable to identify the signature. Captain Carter suggested I notify you immediately." Teal'c stood there silent and unreadable while the general fumed inside at all of the interruptions.
"Teal'c, would you see Colonel O'Neill down to the infirmary?" At the affirmative nod, he turned to Jack. "Colonel, I know we didn't have a chance to speak, but I'll be down to check on you as soon as this situation is cleared up."
Jack looked at him expressionless. Hammond put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "What I'm doing is for your own good, son. I can't allow you to deteriorate any further. I wouldn't be able to live with my conscience."
Jack shrugged, unimpressed with the rare sentiment from the man trying to turn him over to MacKenzie. The general looked over at Teal'c.
"Fear not, General Hammond. I will see O'Neill to the infirmary."
Hammond nodded gratefully and took off at a fast pace towards the armory, shaking his head as he rounded the corner.
O'Neill leveled his gaze at the Jaffa. "Teal'c, who called you?"
"Dr. Warner enlisted my assistance in delaying your arrival to the infirmary. Colonel Makepeace arranged for my staff weapon to be signed out by an airman who was reassigned last week. I have been assured that it will turn up in a few hours."
Jack smiled at that. First Siler and his assistant's program screw up, then the various other people who had stopped him to welcome him back and to talk about nothing other than to delay him, most of whom he knew only by sight. Finally, Teal'c and Makepeace were willing to lie for him as well. He shook his head, grinning at the magnitude of this conspiracy. Would wonders never cease?
1725 hours
Hammond arrived at the infirmary and looked inside. Jack sat on the bed he had used earlier. Dr. Warner was taking his blood pressure while trying to listen to Janet, Teal'c, and Jack whisper. As the general cleared his throat, they all sprung apart with guilty expressions on their faces. Even Jack looked like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. Hammond began to get a feeling that he was being had. He didn't like it. "Dr. Fraiser, have you called Dr. MacKenzie yet?"
Janet put her best doctor's face on and looked directly at the general. "Sir, I was waiting for you to arrive. I thought you might want to speak with him as well."
"Good idea, doctor. Shall we use your office?" He headed to it while Janet followed slowly. She looked back at Warner and he flashed her a supportive smile. She thanked him with her eyes and turned into her office. Hammond was already on the phone, sitting behind Fraiser's desk.
"What do you mean, he's already left for the day? Has he left the facility yet? I see. Thank you airman." Hammond fixed Janet with a penetrating stare. "Dr. MacKenzie left the hospital twenty-five minutes ago. Did you know that he was off duty at 1700 hours?"
Janet looked him right in eye and lied, "I don't know what you mean, General."
Hammond sighed. "I hope you know whatever it is you're doing, Doctor. If anything happens to Colonel O'Neill because of this, we're going to have a serious and far reaching discussion about circumventing orders. Do you understand me, Doctor?" The last statement was delivered with what Janet had come to call his "eagle" glare.
She couldn't bring herself to respond. She just nodded her acceptance of his terms. He glared at her again for good measure and got up from her desk. Without acknowledging her, he left the office. She could feel perspiration running down her back as she visibly slumped. Her legs were a little rubbery and she sat down hard in her visitor's chair. "Just great," she muttered. "My career is over." Warner walked in.
"Whew! He was upset!"
"He knows," was all she had to say.
Warner looked aghast. "All of it?" He looked back through the open door, watching the general speak softly with an unresponsive Colonel O'Neill.
"No. Just enough to end my career if anything happens to the colonel." She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. Looking up at the ceiling, she said to no one in particular, "Where the hell are you, Anna?"
Janet hugged her friend as she came within arms reach. "Thank God you're here! I've been going crazy waiting for you."
Anna gave her a mischievous look. "Going crazy, Jan? Are you why I'm here?"
Janet laughed at that and then her expression suddenly turned serious. "You're here to treat someone I care a great deal about, and if we can't get him under your care before 0900, he's going to be admitted to the Air Force Academy Hospital and probably drugged into a stupor." She fixed Anna in her piercing brown stare. "This one is a personal friend of mine. He's very special."
Anna didn't want to make any snap judgments, but it occurred to her during the long drive that maybe Jan was a little too involved. She now revised that opinion. She hadn't met the patient yet but she had already acquired some valuable information about him. He had very highly placed friends who could pull strings and thought enough of him to feel that her little life was inconsequential. He also had the loyalty and friendship of her amazing friend. Something that wasn't given frequently and was therefore, all the more impressive. She gestured with her free arm. "Lead on, Mac Duff. Where is this Paragon? I've just got to meet this guy."
Janet led the way to the first set of elevators. She took an access card from her pocket and swiped in down the scanner. The elevator activated, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. "We have limited access to the NORAD floors," she explained as they boarded. The elevator will only stop on floors we're cleared for. She pressed the button for level 10. As they began their descent, Anna adjusted herself to the feeling of claustrophobia she had previously only associated with the submarines she had worked on. At level 10, Janet led the way down a hallway to another bank of elevators. Another clipboard to sign. Another swipe with the card and they were descending again. This time to level twenty-eight. When the doors slid open, Anna looked around interestedly. There were people scurrying in all directions. Janet motioned her forward. "We're going to see the general first. Then I'll see about getting you assigned some quarters and stowing your gear. Then you get to meet the colonel."
Anna was taken aback. "You just walk in and see the general whenever you want? No appointment?"
Janet smiled. "We do things differently here, but in this particular case, General Hammond would allow us to interrupt him. He considers the colonel a personal friend too." They had arrived at a flight of stairs. Motioning an airman over, Janet waved at Anna's gear. "Please put Commander Giaf's gear in the briefing room." The young man picked up the duffel Anna had been struggling with as if it weighed nothing and jogged up the stairs with Janet a few paces behind him. After taking another curious look around her, Anna followed them. At the top of the stairs they arrived at a platform that opened into a control room.
There were two men sitting at consoles. They looked her up and down as though assessing her. "Did I just pass muster, Sergeant?" she asked.
Siler looked at her in surprise. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor and pretended he hadn't heard her, choosing instead to address himself to Dr. Fraiser, "The general is waiting for you." He gestured up the next flight of stairs.
Janet smiled to herself. If Anna stayed around for any length of time, the men of this command wouldn't know what hit them. The head on approach didn't go over real big here. The women of the Stargate project were supposed to be professional and discrete at all times and Anna's brand of direct sarcasm was sure to spook them. Janet felt her spirits lifting already. If anyone could help Jack, she could. "Come on, Anna, this way to General Hammond."
The general met them in the briefing room. He extended his hand and grasped hers in a firm shake. There was a brief sizing up as he examined her appearance and decoration. He smiled at her and gestured to a seat at the long table dominating the room. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Doctor. We appreciate you dropping everything to get down here this quickly."
"You mean I had a choice?"
Janet groaned under her breath.
"I know this was inconvenient for you, Doctor. The President and Joint Chiefs are deeply appreciative of your sacrifice. I've been assured that it won't go unnoticed."
Anna decided to add her last two cents. "Just for the record, General, it wasn't me who was inconvenienced. It was my patients, and I'll be running up some large phone bills from here as I try to find them adequate care while I'm assigned here." She looked at him pointedly.
Hammond was pleased. Rank didn't impress this one. He studied her for a few moments. She had a proper military carriage and decent decoration. He had been surprised to see the distinctive blue and gold of the Distinguished Pistol Marksman ribbon on her uniform. She also had the Combat Action Ribbon as well as the red "Special Meritorious" ribbon. This officer was no slacker despite being no bigger than Dr. Fraiser. "Have you actually seen combat, Commander?"
Anna leaned in a little closer and examined the general's "fruit salad" displayed on the placket of his uniform. "Well, sir, all I can say is we've probably chewed some of the same dirt."
Hammond smiled at that. It was the proper response for someone who has worked in a classified capacity. "What have you been told about the SGC Commander?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. Just that I would be reporting to the 10th Medical Group at the Air Force Academy Hospital to treat an Air Force colonel who was suffering from a recurrent combat related sleep disorder. The SGC was referred to as his designated post. Other than that, I'm in the dark. I was hoping to read the colonel's file before meeting with him. When I tried to access it by computer, I was told it was classified."
"You'll have it in the next twenty minutes," Janet interjected. She picked up a phone against the wall and immediately started the process.
"Well, Commander, I think you'll find the SGC a very small place. Everyone here knows everyone else. It makes it hard to maintain strict military discipline. It also means that Colonel O'Neill's situation has had a very strong impact on the morale around here. " He was about to continue when a red light began flashing outside the large window that served as a wall of the room.
Anna jumped up and walked around the table to see what was going on. Jan and the General hadn't reacted to the lights or the claxon that was ringing now. This must be an ordinary occurrence. A large ring was standing at the far end of the room below them. There were lights popping on around the rim of the ring. Then… "My God!" she exclaimed. "What the hell is that? Those are Marines coming out of it! What is it?"
Hammond came up beside her and nodded towards the men. "That's just SG-3 returning on schedule. There's nothing to worry about."
Anna looked at him in shock. "Returning from where?" Then it hit her. She spun around and sought the eyes of her friend who was looking at her understandingly. "Stargate Command. Oh my God. Stargate." The implications hit her all at once and she made her way back to the table on weak legs. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" she asked no one in particular. Another thought occurred to her. "Are we…? I mean … are there others out there?"
Hammond nodded at Janet's unspoken question. "Yes. There are quite a few alien races. Not to mention many worlds populated by transplanted humans. You'll be meeting an alien in a little while. His name is Teal'c and he's called a Jaffa. He carries an alien symbiote as his immune system. Trust me, you have nothing to fear from him."
"Transplanted humans?" Anna sat down gratefully.
Hammond continued the explanation, "There is a race of parasites, called Goa'uld, that use humans as hosts. SG-1, which is Colonel O'Neill and his team, are the spearhead of our effort to maintain a first line of defense against them. It also means that occasionally we encounter planets populated by humans who were taken from earth, long ago, as potential hosts." Hammond watched the horror cross her face as the realization of the human predicament came to her. "They were scattered throughout the galaxy as a sort of breeding stock. We've managed to keep the Goa'uld at bay, thanks in no small part to SG-1, but they are still out there and we've had some collateral damage this time. During their last mission, SG-1 was imprisoned by one of these parasites and Colonel O'Neill was taken as a host."
Hammond continued, "Given his history, I'm sure you'll agree that we need your assistance in this matter. While the symbiote didn't get a chance to take over Colonel O'Neill, he's been having a hard time coming to terms with what happened to him."
"And Colonel O'Neill is the patient?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Then let's get to it. I understand there is a time constraint this evening?" She looked from Hammond to Janet as a silent warning passed between them.
Janet took the bull by the horns. "If you don't begin treatment tonight, Jack goes to MacKenzie at 10MDG in the morning. He's the doctor I told you about."
Anna checked her watch. It was 1930 hours. "Why don't you introduce me to him and get me his file? Once I've done that, he's officially my patient. Do you have a spare office I can use, General?"
"Unfortunately, space is severely limited here, Commander. Could you work out of a VIP room?
"Sure."
Hammond slid paper and pen across the table. "Just make a list of what you require, Doctor, I'll make sure it gets here."
Anna picked up the pen and scribbled furiously until she had covered half a page. She handed the paper to Hammond and placed the pen on the table.
Hammond scanned the page. "I can have most of this ready for you by tomorrow."
Anna smiled and accepted the general's outstretched hand. "Thanks, General. I have just one more question though. What's going to happen when I fail to report to the 10th Medical Group in two days?"
Hammond just smiled. "You let me worry about that, Doctor Giaf. You won't be listed as AWOL."
Janet turned to her friend and indicated it was time to leave. "Are you ready to meet our resident folk hero?" Without waiting for a reply, Janet headed for the stairs.
Anna took one last glance around and headed down after her. One thought ran through her mind over and over, "What have I gotten myself involved in here?"
Jack sat with his feet hanging off the bed while Dr. Warner took his blood pressure. SG-1 was crowding the small space and they looked like they had settled in for a while. Sam perched next to the bed in the 'visitor's' chair reading a report. Daniel leaned on the far wall and Teal'c was the unmovable object at the foot of the bed, silent and steadfast. As Warner ripped off the cuff, he made a note on a chart while Jack strained to read the notation upside down. He shrugged; they don't make fun of doctor's writing for no reason.
"So, Doc, is he gonna live?" Daniel asked, a little anxiously.
Warner smiled. "Well, Dr. Jackson, his blood pressure's a little high, but that's not surprising given the day he's had." Warner turned a little red thinking about his part in the comedy to keep the colonel from the infirmary for forty-five minutes. As if she had read his mind, Sam began to chuckle.
"You know, Dr. Warner, if I didn't know better, I'd think you enjoyed that little conspiracy." Her eyes crinkled mischievously. "I wish I could have seen the general's face when Siler made the lights in the control room go off! Did Simmons really give you the thumbs up, Colonel?"
Jack grinned a little while he demonstrated. "You'd think the kid was a master spy." He shook his head ruefully. "I hate to think you guys are gonna get in trouble because of this thing." He smacked his head and instantly regretted it. He grabbed his head and held it between both hands. "Doc, you have any aspirin?"
Warner turned serious immediately. "Colonel, when was the last time you took something for the headache?"
Jack looked at his watch. "About two hours ago I took 1500 mg of Aspirin."
Warner was shocked. "On an empty stomach?"
Jack just nodded painfully.
"No wonder you're nauseous. I'm sorry, but I think we're going to wait a while before taking anything else. I'd like to try to get some plain food in you first."
Jack just nodded again. "Any chance of pizza, Doc?" He was rewarded with a stern look from Warner and chuckles from Sam and Daniel. He decided to keep going. "Chinese? Mexican? Sushi?"
The annoyed doctor just threw up his hands and walked away, muttering something about lousy patients and sarcastic colonels. Jack had his first real laugh in a week. It stopped almost at once as his head throbbed in rhythm with it. Daniel was immediately at the bed, lurching with his bad leg.
"Jack, you have to let them help you. You can't exist without sleep. I know. I've tried it." Daniel shifted awkwardly onto the bed to sit beside his friend. "We're all on stand down anyway. You might as well get this over with." He placed his hand gently on Jack's shoulder and it was instantly snatched back as Jack jumped as if startled.
"Sorry, Danny-boy, just a little jumpy." Jack moved a little further down the bed.
Daniel just blinked at him from behind his glasses, bright blue eyes staring into flat brown ones trying to read what was going on behind them. With no luck. Armor firmly back in place, they were impregnable. Except for the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, he looked the same as always. Maybe a little leaner, a little harder, but that was Jack. When things got too tough, he retracted into himself, eliminating anything but the most crucial things necessary for his existence. Daniel sighed in frustration and threw an irritated 'help-me-out-here' look at Sam.
She put down her papers and addressed him. "Daniel, maybe we should just wait until Dr. Fraiser's friend gets here. This," she indicated the infirmary with a sweeping gesture, "could all be an elaborate case of overkill."
At the mention of the doctor's impending arrival, Jack looked up from his hands. "Great, another shrink in the place. Just what we need."
Daniel made to argue his point when Teal'c cut in. "O'Neill, I am not familiar with that term. What is a 'shrink'?
"A shrink, Teal'c, "said Jack without looking up, "is a doctor who makes you talk about your childhood until you want to beat the crap out of them." He looked into the Jaffa's impassive face. "They basically have no purpose except to make you wish you hadn't mentioned any of it."
"Damn! And to think I went to medical school for six years for that! I should have been a truck driver. Janet, do you still have that number?"
Everyone turned to look at the small, smiling doctor leaning against the doorway. Her naval uniform was definitely out of place, but her demeanor was pure confidence. Sam liked her immediately. Daniel wasn't sure and got up from the bed to limp over to her.
"Hi. I'm Doctor Jackson. You must be Dr. Giaf." He pronounced it Geef and Anna corrected him out of habit.
"It's Gee-aff, Dr. Jackson, and call me Anna." She stood straight and stuck out a small hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've actually read some of your papers on religious practices in Egypt. Fascinating stuff. Had the psychological community in a tizzy for a while. Somehow though, I pictured you older." She shook her head. "What are you? Thirty-four? Thirty-five?"
Daniel pushed up his glasses and shuffled his feet embarrassed. "Th…thanks, Doctor. I'm um thirty uh five." He blushed to the tips of his ears and decided to quit while he was ahead. "This is Captain Samantha Carter."
Anna walked into the room and took the hand Sam had extended. They stood like that for a moment, both measuring and being measured. Sam nodded as if satisfied. She looked at Jack and after receiving a filthy look, she motioned at the Jaffa waiting patiently at the end of the bed. "This is Teal'c."
Anna walked up to him and tilted her head way back. Christ! This man is so big he should have his own zip code! "You get enough oxygen up there?" she asked, trying not to stare too noticeably at the gold tattoo in the center of the dark forehead. So this is the alien. He looks so human. I wonder…. Anna smiled, charmed by his manner. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Teal'c, and the pleasure is entirely mine." She looked at the bed and back to the doorway where Janet had taken her place at the frame. She nodded towards the bed and Janet went into action.
"Okay, folks. Visiting time is over." She walked up to Daniel and put a hand on his arm. "Dr. Jackson, I'd like to examine that leg as long as you're here. This way please." Daniel gave everyone a long-suffering glance and allowed the doctor to lead him out of the private area. Sam and Teal'c made moves to leave as well. Jack tried to stop them.
"Come on, guys, you can hang out awhile longer."
Carter shook her head. "We're being thrown out, sir. I'll see you in the morning." She walked over and touched his sleeve. He shied away a little and she shook her head sadly. He gave her a helpless look and she turned and left the room.
Teal'c looked at O'Neill as if he couldn't decide if he should leave him alone with the small doctor. Anna walked up to him and placed her hand in the center of his back. "Don't worry, Mr. Teal'c, I won't bite as long as he doesn't." She smiled to assure him she was joking. Teal'c didn't get it.
"I am not aware of Colonel O'Neill biting anyone of my acquaintance. Perhaps you mean Captain Carter?"
Anna had to chuckle at that. She was sure there was a story behind it and couldn't wait to hear it. "It's an expression, Mr. Teal'c. It means you can trust me with him. I won't hurt your friend."
Teal'c stared hard into the impenetrable brown eyes looking steadily up at him. Apparently seeing what he was looking for, he turned to Jack. "I am leaving, O'Neill. I will return in the morning." Jack didn't respond. Teal'c managed to look distressed and impassive at the same time. Anna applied pressure to his back. Taking his cue, the large Jaffa left the room reluctantly.
Anna blew a sigh of relief and then immediately tensed again. First tackle the little mountains, then the big ones don't seem so hard, she recited to herself. She walked over to the bed and sat down in the chair Major Carter had vacated only moments earlier. If the belligerent looks she was getting from the man on the bed were any indication, this was going to be the equivalent of her Mount Everest.
"So, Colonel, I think we have some things to discuss."
Janet knocked on Hammond's open door an hour later. She was tired, irritated and definitely not in the mood for an interrogation by the general. The general waved her in and she took the seat opposite him.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
He took in her appearance. She looked tired and cross. Ever the military man, he cut to the chase.
"What is Colonel O'Neill's condition? Has your friend gotten anywhere with him yet?"
Janet just shook her head. What did he think? That these things go away after a ten-minute conversation?
"Sir, Dr. Giaf only just met SG-1 a few minutes ago. I believe she's getting his authorization for treatment now."
"Authorization?"
Janet looked at the general with a hint of exasperation. "A psychiatrist can't treat a patient until they sign an agreement for treatment. Dr. MacKenzie is the exception because he's assigned to the SG Teams. If Jack doesn't agree, Colonel MacKenzie will be treating him in the morning." The last statement was said with a twinge of concern.
"Doctor Fraiser, what exactly do you object to about Dr. MacKenzie? Has he done something that would require me to rescind his clearance and remove him from the program?"
Janet hesitated. It was never nice to badmouth a fellow doctor. Picking her words carefully, she explained her position. "Sir, Dr. MacKenzie is a competent psychiatrist. I just feel that Colonel O'Neill would not respond well to his method of treatment."
Hammond was obviously not satisfied with that response and probed again. "And is this a method I should be worried about exposing my SG Teams to? What does it entail?"
"Mostly medication, sir. And confinement."
Hammond nodded, the picture becoming clearer. "And Colonel O'Neill would---"
"Clam up and say nothing or worse," Janet interjected. "He would become belligerent or violent and require Dr. MacKenzie to heavily sedate him. Either way, sir, we would lose the colonel."
Hammond mulled this information over and glanced up at Fraiser. Her tired eyes pleaded with him to understand. She was clearly not happy about saying anything against her colleague. As far as he was concerned, that was the deciding factor.
"Very well, Doctor. Please let me know if Colonel O'Neill decides not accept treatment from Dr. Giaf. Then get some sleep, Janet. You look like you could use at least eight hours."
Janet got up and left the office. Once outside she relaxed a little. At least she had bought Anna some time. She just hoped she could accomplish something in the next few hours. Janet was pretty sure Anna was going to need them. She had her fingers crossed. Toes too.
"So, Colonel, I think we have some things to discuss."
Jack just glared at her, trying to convey in a single filthy look all of the animosity he felt towards her profession. She just sat there and smiled at him? Why does she keep doing that? He put his head in his hands. This day just kept getting worse and worse.
Anna looked her fill as the colonel glared at her. He wasn't bad looking if you took into consideration what was currently ailing him. The leathery face was lined with pain and his dark brown eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep. He had long elegant fingers and they shook slightly as they moved to his head, leaving the graying hair even more askew. One thing was for sure, this man was in trouble. Big trouble. He had the look of a man on the edge. Anna had seen this before in the military personnel coming out of the Iraqi prisons after the Gulf War. They looked -- well -- haunted was the word that came to mind. Jack O'Neill definitely looked haunted. And terrified of her.
"Colonel, my name is Commander Anna Giaf. I'm here at Janet's request to try and help you through this crisis. I know that you don't want me here but --"
"Ya think?"
She did a double take. Well, at least he would talk to her. She glanced at the doorway and back to O'Neill. "Colonel? Want to take a walk?"
Jack looked at her in surprise. "What, no hypnosis? No long meaningful talks?"
"Nope. I was thinking more along the lines of dinner."
"Dinner?"
"I've been on the go since 0900 and I could use a meal. I understand you could use one as well." She smiled at his expression. "I know the thought of food makes you nauseous, but you can keep me company if nothing tempts your appetite. Unless," she indicated the infirmary, "you have a fondness for Jell-O?"
Jack grinned at that. "Sure, why not." He hopped off the bed.
"Can you lead the way to the Officer's Mess? My tour hasn't gotten that far yet." Anna gave him an embarrassed smile.
"Sure." Jack took the lead as they left room. "I guess they don't they have height requirements in the Navy."
She looked at the man now towering over her. "Yeah, like I've never heard that before."
As they arrived at the commissary, conversation from the tables stopped as everyone took in the unusual pair. Jack knew he looked a little shaky but he figured it had to be the small Naval officer at his side. Her uniform stood out like a sore thumb, with all the gold braid and unfamiliar designation insignia. Trying to ease her discomfort at being stared at, Jack looked down at her.
"I always have this effect on a room."
Anna smiled gratefully and said nothing. Jack gestured at the cafeteria style trays piled high on a table. "Shall we?" Not waiting for her reply, he grabbed two trays and moved down the line, leaving her no choice but to follow. As she caught up with his long stride she snagged her tray from his hands.
"Thanks, Colonel. I've been feeding myself since I was twenty-eight."
Jack looked at her back and grinned, noticing that his headache had receded a little. Maybe he just needed to be distracted. He took a plate of some meat-like substance and moved down the line.
Anna was waiting for him in front of the beverages. She perused his tray. Without a word, she removed the beef stew and placed a bowl of oatmeal on his tray instead. "You need milk with that?" she asked.
He looked at her aghast. She expected him to eat this? It looked gross, even by Air Force standards. He went to take back his plate of stew but she was too quick for him. Standing on tiptoe, she passed the plate to the airman on duty behind the counter.
"Colonel, you haven't eaten in a while. That stew would tear you up. Now oatmeal's the way to go. It's soft but nutritious and has the benefit of being warm." Smiling cockily up at him she grabbed a carton of milk and a mug of coffee. Walking away, she threw over her shoulder, "I'll see you at that table. Okay?"
Jack looked at the airman with his best pissed-off-officer look and held out his hand for the plate. The airman suddenly seemed to find something interesting to be doing at the other end of his station. Jack was shocked. She had already usurped his authority. The little pint-sized pain in the ass had the airman treating him like a nut case. Sighing heavily, he took a mug of coffee and headed for the table. He had to nip this in the bud right now.
Anna was already unwrapping what appeared to be a chicken salad sandwich when Jack slid into the seat across from her. Without looking up from her tray, she took his coffee and replaced it with the carton of milk. She placed his mug next to her own and began eating her sandwich as if she hadn't seen a meal in a week. Picking up the carton, he poured some milk on his oatmeal and watched it change the consistency. He definitely had to nip this bossy thing NOW before he actually had to eat this.
"You know, I can feed myself as well."
Anna didn't comment or look up.
"I'm not eating this!" He said it a little more forcefully than he intended and several occupied tables nearby stilled as the diners looked over.
"Fine," Anna said. "Suit yourself." She removed his bowl and put it out of reach on the table. When he made to grab the other half of her sandwich, she slapped his hand. "You're not eating my dinner, Colonel." She continued to eat, watching him eye the distasteful bowl across the table from him. "You hungry yet, Colonel?"
Jack put his hand up to the back of his neck. The headache was back. "Oh for crying out loud! Just give me the bowl."
Anna silently placed it in front of him. Without a word, Jack picked up his spoon and began to eat the disgusting stuff. When he was finished, Anna picked up his tray with hers and placed them on the racks. As she sat back down, Jack was eyeing his former cup of coffee. Without a word, Anna slid the cup back across the table.
When the mug stopped in front of him, Jack looked up surprised. "You mean I can have this now? Are you sure, Doc? I may OD on caffeine and take out the commissary."
"Colonel, you can try. From the looks of this room, you'd get stomped on well and truly. Anyway, make your move."
Jack studied her now. She looked exhausted. Her brown hair was falling out of its braid. She was starting to blink more often and she was resting her chin on her hand as if her head was too heavy to hold up. Still, she sipped her coffee and watched him carefully. Her eyes were guarded and vigilant as they scanned the room, always coming back to rest on his. A soldier's eyes, thought Jack. That was surprising for a psychiatrist. With renewed interest, he checked the campaign ribbons on her jacket, now lying across one of the spare chairs at their table. Persian Gulf. He had that one, too. Most of the career service people he knew had it. Combat? He recognized it immediately. The blue, yellow and red ribbon was well known by anyone who had served with Marines. He didn't think he had ever seen it on a doctor's uniform. He looked at the rest and was able to recognize a few more. Mostly region ribbons. Asia, Europe and South America. This doctor had been around, almost as much as he had. He wondered why she had ended up here. Not wanting her to know that he'd been checking her out, he reached over and removed a piece of lettuce that had landed on her jacket. She gave him a knowing look and finished her coffee. Then she stared at him while twisting her wedding band with her right hand. Sensing that the meal was over, Jack drained the last of his cup and put up a hand.
"So, now what?"
"Now we go to Dr. Fraiser's office and discuss your options."
"You mean I actually have options?" was his sarcastic response.
"Everyone has options, Colonel. We don't always like them, but we have them."
Jack stood up and waited while Anna shrugged into her jacket.
"Dr. Fraiser's office it is."
Janet was sitting at her desk when they returned from the commissary. She studied Jack as he hesitated just inside the infirmary entrance. He looked a little better. Maybe Anna had managed to get some food into him.
"Jan? Mind if we use your office for a few minutes?" Janet was surprised to see Anna standing in front of her.
"Uh--sure. Just let me clear some of this stuff up. By the way, here's Colonel O'Neill's jacket."
She passed Anna a file that was at least four inches thick. "Are you kidding? How can one guy generate this much paperwork?"
Janet smiled grimly. "Just don't eat while reading it. It'll put you off food for a while." With that last warning, she stood and exited the office, calling to Dr. Warner as she left, "I'm leaving for a few hours. I'll be back on at 0800."
Warner looked up and nodded.
As Janet left, she stopped by O'Neill to squeeze his arm. "She's a great doctor, Jack. Just give her a chance."
Jack heaved a sigh and walked into the office, closing the door behind him. Doctor Giaf sat on Janet's desk, weighing a stack of paper. He instinctively knew it was his file and flinched. There was stuff in there he didn't want to think about and now this stranger had access to it. It made him furious to think about her flipping through his life story like it was some novel. He threw himself into the visitor's chair and glared at her.
Oh no, thought Anna. We're back to glaring. "Well, Colonel, here's the deal. You have several options to consider and I'd like to cover all of them before you make a decision." Jack stared back at her. "First and the most obvious, you can do nothing. Doctor MacKenzie will be here tomorrow to do a routine screening on all of the personnel associated with your last mission and given the way you look, Colonel, I don't think you'll get by him. If he believes you to be in need of his services, he'll remand you to Mental Health Services at the 10th MDG for evaluation. They have the authority to detain you for up to twenty-one days without your consent. If by some miracle, you manage to slip by, you run into two more possibilities. One, you somehow get over this crisis by yourself, in which case, no harm, no foul, or two, you go psychotic and--" she paused for effect, "take out the commissary," she finished with a small smile. Colonel O'Neill didn't look happy about any of those options.
"What about you? Aren't you here to keep me out of the funny farm?"
"I'm here as an alternative to Dr. MacKenzie. I won't lie to you, Colonel. If at any time, I feel that you are a danger to yourself or anyone else, I'll remand you to Mental Health in a New-York-minute. The difference between Dr. MacKenzie and myself is more of a philosophical one. Janet feels that he'll medicate from the get go whereas when I medicate, it's as a last resort. She felt you would be more receptive to that option. The other difference is if you go with me, we'll conduct our sessions here at the SGC. You'll still be able to function in your current rank and capacity. You'll simply be on restricted duty until I clear you for return to active duty."
Jack seemed to like that option even less. "That's it? Those are my only options? I thought I had some choices here."
"There's one more. You can voluntarily remand yourself to the 10MDG. At least your jacket will show that you were willing to cooperate in your treatment."
Anna sat back and watched him as he wrestled with himself. The anger that radiated from him was something she understood. He was going to have to relinquish control of his life for a period of time and this was something very few people did gladly. After ten minutes, she stood up. "Would like some time to yourself, Colonel?"
Jack seemed to slump in his chair as he gazed up at the doctor. "This isn't easy. What would treatment with you include?"
Anna took the chair across from him and placed her hands on top of the file. "We can proceed two ways. We can delve back into your past and deal with whatever issues are bothering you, or we can go on from here and develop your coping skills. I'm not sure which would be better in your case. I'll have to review your file and give you my recommendation." She leaned forward to emphasize her next statement. "Either way, the choice is yours. If you choose not to go in a certain direction, I'll respect your wishes, and we'll proceed as best we can. I can't promise I won't push you though. Treatment is a touchy thing. You'll hate me most days and I'm not going to let you get away with much."
"I'll go with you, Doc."
Anna slid a form across the desk and handed him a pen. "I need you to sign this form, voluntarily requesting my assignment as your doctor."
Shoulders slumped, Jack signed it and passed it back to her. She signed it as well and placed it in his file. "Colonel, I'd like you to sack out in the infirmary tonight. I'll be able to monitor your REM sleep and it might be helpful if we're to deal with the nightmares."
Jack just nodded.
Sensing his frustration, Anna walked around the desk and put her hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little but she left it there anyway. "I know this is hard for you, Colonel, but you have to believe me when I tell you that you're not alone anymore. I'll be there with you." With one last squeeze, she grabbed the file and left the office to give him time to compose himself. Staking claim to the private corner where he had been sitting when she met him, she put the file down on a utility table and went in search of the duty nurse. After a few words with her, she returned to find O'Neill sitting on the bed again. He had removed his boots and field jacket and was getting ready to lie back. She smiled and nodded. It was 2300.
2345 Hours
"We are not pleased." Hathor moved to the side of the cryo couch.
Jack looked up at her from his prone position. "Neither are we." His voice was rough and he hoped it didn't convey the sense of panic that raced through him.
He felt her fingers caress the side of his face as she grasped his chin with the hand encased in the Gould device. She turned his head towards her and slipped her fingernails under the memory enhancer. With a sudden move, she pulled it out.
Jack screamed. He hadn't meant to, but it hurt like hell. Daniel and Sam already had enough to worry about without him making it harder on them.
Hathor leaned over him now, pleasantly amused. "Once host to a Goa'uld, you will take the lives of your friends." She looked briefly over at Sam and Daniel.
"We don't think so." Jack could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"You will have no choice in the matter. You will witness their deaths through your own eyes."
That stroking hand again. Jack felt like his skin was crawling.
"Hopelessly." She grasped his shirt at the collar and yanked suddenly. The fabric gave and his chest was bared to her gaze. "It may take some time for the Goa'uld to take control, but we will greatly enjoy experiencing your eventual defeat." Hathor turned to her Jaffa and sensually stroked a hand across his chest before slipping her hand into his pouch to remove the snake-like creature that was now ready for implantation. The snake coiled itself around her wrist as she turned back to the helpless man. She tenderly placed the Goa'uld on his exposed chest.
"Oh God - no," Jack rasped, barely able to speak. The Goa'uld slithered across his skin, moving into position to strike.
"And when you awaken from the joining, you will kneel and pledge your loyalty to us." She placed a tender hand on his brow and then, with surprisingly strength, pulled his head towards her.
Jack felt the snake bury itself in the back of his neck. Pain exploded like a flash of white. He screamed. Coherent thought fled as he felt the thing move inside him. His mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out but gasps. He willed himself to remain calm, but his body was already caught up in its panic. Jaw moving, he gazed helplessly at the ceiling
Anna looked up from the colonel's file when he began to mutter. A thin film of sweat had broken out on his face and he clutched the sheets in a death grip. She leaned over him to try to hear what he was saying. The shattered voice was heartbreaking in its desperation.
"We don't think so. We don't think so. We don't think so."
The same thing, over and over. Anna reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. As she touched him, he arched off the bed and screamed for all he was worth. Anna tried to press his shoulders back onto the bed, but the colonel, caught up in his dream, resisted her efforts. A nurse burst through the curtains. Anna waved him off and he retreated with a worried frown. Anna put her back into getting his shoulders down. Suddenly, Jack went limp, muttering again.
Jack looked up to see Sam and Daniel standing across the gate room from him, watching him with horrified expressions. He tried to call out to them, but his mouth didn't work. He watched helplessly as he raised his hand. The hand device engulfing it began to glow. Jack frantically tried to lower his hand. Just before the device discharged, he watched in dread as he slowly walked forward, laughing at them. The betrayal on their faces was more than he could bear. He screamed and ranted as his body refused to obey him. The hand device cut through them as he sank into oblivion.
"Have to fight it. Sam -- I'm sorry. Oh God, Danny -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Anna began to shake him. "Colonel O'Neill. Colonel O'Neill!!" He was fighting her now. She didn't feel his arms move until it was too late. He threw her across the bed into the wall. She crashed into the monitors, thrashing her arms as she tried to stop her forward momentum. It was no use. She landed heavily on the oxygen canisters stacked against the wall. Anna felt her shoulder dislocate and held onto consciousness by a thread. Her vision narrowed and then came back into focus. The nurse she had waved off a few moments ago was there, trying to help her up. Once standing, she impatiently pushed him away with her good arm. The colonel sat up in the bed with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. His tortured breathing seemed to echo in the small enclosure. Anna climbed onto the bed, studiously avoiding bumping the arm hanging uselessly at her side. She pulled Jack towards her with a hand around the back of his neck. He resisted at first and then, let her pull his head to her shoulder. She rocked him like a child, giving him the comfort of her touch. His hands came around her waist and she desperately fought the urge to cry out as his grasp jolted her damaged arm. He held onto her like a lifeline and after a few minutes his gasping breaths began to slow. Anna had no idea how long she sat in that awkward position, rocking the tormented man. When she felt his breathing slow to a normal sleeping rhythm, she eased him back as gently as she could and climbed off the bed.
The nurse was there in a flash, helping her to a chair across from the bed. At his questioning look she whispered to him, "Dislocated the left shoulder." He nodded and went in search of the doctor on duty.
2450 hours
Daniel loped into the infirmary, his crutches making squeaking noises as he rounded the corner. He hoped to catch the duty nurse so he could check on Jack. He was pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Giaf sitting at a chair in the main room. He didn't sense anything wrong until the nurse leaned over her and patted her cheek with a gauze pad. Daniel walked around the front of the chair and gasped. Her arm rested in a sling and her left cheek was covered in blood from a nasty looking cut that began just below her eye. She also had a smaller split in her lower lip. Catching the look in the archeologist's eyes, Anna held up her right hand.
"Don't worry, Dr. Jackson. It looks much worse than it is." The nurse applied a second butterfly to the gash. "The truth is, I haven't learned to bounce yet," she muttered under her breath.
The young airman applying the strip chuckled. "I thought you bounced just fine, Doc."
Smiling ruefully, she shook her head. "You would, Dave. Boy, I should have seen that coming."
Daniel looked towards the corner of the infirmary where an orderly had the curtains pulled back and was mopping the floor. The colonel's sleeping form was faintly visible through the dimmed lighting above the bed.
"Did -- did Jack do this?"
Anna nodded.
"Are you sure you're okay? I could sit with him if you like." Daniel's anxious eyes glanced at the corner again. He gave Anna a worried look. "Is Jack going to get through this? I mean, he's always so strong and to see him like this, well, it's hard. He doesn't like the infirmary and --"
Anna watched him with a detached fascination, only listening with half an ear as he rambled on. Her alarm bells were ringing and she began to catalog the symptoms in her head.
"--so you see, Doctor, Jack doesn't handle things like injuries well --"
"Are you the Danny he dreams about?" she mused.
Daniel stopped in mid-sentence. "What?"
Anna clarified her question, "Are you the Danny he keeps apologizing to?"
Daniel looked at her aghast. "He apologizes? What does he have to apologize for? He didn't do anything! Hathor did it! Jack was her victim!" He was getting agitated and Anna decided to kill two birds with one stone. It required a change of tactics.
"Dr. Jackson, could I buy you a cup of coffee?"
Daniel blinked at her in surprise. "Uh -- sure. Now?"
She nodded and almost laughed at his expression. It was hard to believe this man was a triple doctorate. He looked more like a wet behind the ears college kid. His blue eyes held the naiveté of the very young. It was an endearing quality and when coupled with his good looks probably made him the recipient of a good deal of mothering from well-meaning women.
"Dave? Can you handle the colonel for a while?"
The nurse gave her a nod. "Sure, Doc. No problem. I'll call up there if anything happens."
Getting painfully to her feet, she gestured to the door with her good arm. "After you Dr. Jackson."
"Um...oh." Daniel gave Anna a helpless look and tried to figure a way to manage his crutches and the small tray with two coffee cups.
"Want me to take that, Dr. Jackson?"
"That might be a good idea," Daniel said, blushing slightly.
Anna took the tray and placed it on a table. "This okay?"
"Sure," Daniel said, lurching on the crutches less than gracefully. He grabbed one of the chairs and sat down with a small groan. He winced and rubbed his right leg a bit.
Anna reached over and snagged a cup of coffee, taking a grateful sip of the strong brew.
"They do make pretty good coffee," Daniel started conversationally. "Do you want any cream or sugar or anything?" He asked, looking up for a moment.
"Nope. I take mine leaded," she said as she took another sip. "Colonel O'Neill seems to have some pretty strong feelings about what happened. In fact, I can't get a clear picture of what occurred. I was hoping to get you or Captain Carter alone to get the details. Can you tell me anything that wasn't in the reports?"
"You do know about Jack's history with Hathor? What happened on the base a while back?" Daniel looked at her, his blue eyes intense.
"The report was pretty sketchy. Just that she took over briefly. Was there more?"
Daniel let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, you could say that. She turned Jack into a Jaffa."
"Like Mr. Teal'c?"
"Yes, like Mr.," a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Teal'c."
"Is that possible? What did she hope to gain from making him a Jaffa?"
"She wanted to take over Earth and planned to make the SGC her stronghold to do it from." Daniel stared at the top of the table, his voice flat as spoke. "She needed Jack for that."
Daniel sipped his coffee, debating exactly how much he should tell Dr. Giaf. If he revealed too much, he might betray his own teammate.
"Jack and I killed Ra on the first mission to Abydos. Hathor was grateful to us for that." Daniel gripped his coffee cup tightly. "She wanted to 'honor' Jack by making him her first prime. She had … other plans for me." He picked up the cup and took a long swallow.
Giaf reached across the table and tapped Daniel on the hand. He pulled his hand away as he looked up. "Dr. Jackson? Are you okay?"
"Peachy," he said, doing his best to ignore the pounding heartbeat that always seemed to follow his mentioning of the Goa'uld's name.
"What were you doing while the ...uh...Ghould selected the colonel?"
Daniel tightened his grip on the cup. "Standing there scared out of my mind. They had us in the fake gate room. Hathor was taking the Goa'uld around to each of us. It seemed to like Jack."
The doctor leaned closer. "So what happened next?"
Daniel rubbed his face with his hand. "Jack grabbed the Goa'uld. The Tok'Ra shot Jack with a zat gun. Then they dragged us back into one of the medical bays and gave Jack to the Goa'uld."
"Excuse me, Dr. Jackson, but aren't the Tok'Ra good guys?
"Yes," Daniel said looking up. "And you can call me Daniel," he said with a small smile.
"How did the colonel seem to you? Was he frightened? Angry?"
"Cocky," Daniel said, a brief smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and then it disappeared. "He was frightened. Who wouldn't be? Jack just isn't one to show it."
"And then…?" she prompted.
"Hathor told him once the Goa'uld took over that he would kill both Sam, I mean Captain Carter, and me. Then," Daniel looked down at the tabletop again, "then she placed the Goa'uld on his chest and it went into him." Daniel looked up, his face devoid of expression. "It was pretty awful. I can still hear him scream. There wasn't anything we could do. Just stand there and watch." He looked down at his watch. "Look, it's getting late and you look like you could do with a good night's sleep."
He felt his hand grasped by the doctor and stared at it for a moment.
"Daniel, forgive yourself."
"Dr. Giaf," Daniel pulled his hand out of her grip, "I thought this was about Jack."
"I'm getting the impression it's deeper than just the colonel. Something happened that I'm not getting. Either way, you need someone to talk to. My door is just down the hall from Janet. Don't wait until you're in the same sad shape as the colonel."
"I'm fine," Daniel said tightly.
She wasn't buying it, mainly because he couldn't sell it. "Right. You're fine." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Daniel, forgive yourself."
He sighed and slid his glasses off, rubbing his hands over his face. "I just need a little time," he said finally, slipping his glasses back on, "to get things into some kind of perspective."
"The offer is always open."
He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his crutches. "I know," Daniel said, giving her a smile slightly more genuine than before. "Thanks for the coffee," he said as he clumped out.
Anna watched him leave and glanced down at her now cold cup of coffee. What a nightmare. There was only one thing she could do. She would have to speak with Captain Carter. Taking a sip of her now cold coffee, she began scribbling notes on a paper napkin. Things had just become more complicated.
Janet walked into the infirmary at exactly 0800 the next morning. The first thing she noticed was Jack asleep on the corner bed. She walked up to the duty nurse and motioned at the sleeping man. "How long has he been out?"
The nurse checked the chart and replied, "Five hours, Doctor."
Janet nodded and held out her hand for the clipboard. Juggling her briefcase and cup of coffee, she tried to read the clipboard and walk at the same time. She kicked her office door open and almost dropped the entire lot. Practically falling onto her desk, she dumped everything but the coffee wherever it happened to land. Unfortunately, the briefcase landed on the doctor sleeping at the desk.
"Wha--! Jan? What the heck are you doing? Trying to kill me?" Anna's cranky face came into view.
Janet took one look at her bandaged face and walked around her desk to get a better look. "What the hell happened to you?"
Anna just stared groggily at her. "Is that coffee?" Without waiting for an answer, she liberated it from Janet's surprised hands and tried unsuccessfully to get the lid off one-handed. Frustrated, she bit down on the offending piece of plastic and pulled it off the cup with her teeth. Taking a grateful sip she grimaced when the hot liquid passed over the cut on her lip. Janet sat down on a corner of the desk and waited patiently for Anna to explain.
"It was nothing, Janet. Colonel O'Neill awoke from a nightmare and I happened to get in the way. Dave patched me up fine before he left for the night."
Janet leaned over her and examined the cut below her eye. "Are the butterflies holding? What about the arm? Has it been x-rayed?"
The small doctor behind the desk looked at her with disgust. "Christ. Are you for real? You trained these guys. The shoulder was only dislocated. I could tell that without an x-ray."
Janet was unimpressed. "I want to take a series anyway. You might have a clavicle fracture."
Anna gestured at the file on the desk. "Pretty gruesome reading. I also had the benefit of a really interesting cup of coffee with Dr. Jackson around 0100. Is not sleeping an occupational hazard here? Anyway, he filled in some of the blanks. Mission details. Particularly about the last one when Colonel O'Neill was implanted with the uh --"
"Goa'uld," Janet finished for her.
"I'd like to speak with Captain Carter about the same thing, today, if it's possible."
Janet was surprised by that request. If Anna wanted corroboration, it meant only one thing, that she had found discrepancies in Daniel's mission review or she had reason to doubt his competence. "Captain Carter is scheduled for a routine exam today. I'm sure I can arrange that for you. Is there something you want to tell me about Daniel?"
With what Janet knew to be deliberate nonchalance, the psychiatrist smiled and shook her head. "Nah. I just want to get the picture from another point of view. They were the only ones there with O'Neill when he was, uh… taken as a host."
Janet didn't buy that for a minute but kept her mouth shut. If Anna was keeping it to herself, she had good reasons. Just the same, Janet didn't like being in the dark when one of her patients was involved. To show her displeasure, she took her coffee back. Watching her friend carefully, Janet took a bracing sip and pointed at the clipboard. "The duty nurse indicated that our colonel had two episodes last night. Was he violent both times?"
"No. He was more despairing than violent after the second one. I just got him calmed down and he went back to sleep. I'm hoping that he'll sleep for another few hours."
Janet nodded. "Have you been to your quarters yet?" At her negative indication, Janet continued, "You look like you could use a shower and a hot meal."
"You won't get any argument from me. Any idea where I can get some utilities? All I have is my Class A's and some civies."
Janet waved her off. "I'll have them sent to your quarters. Medical staff has to wear dress uniforms, but I think in your situation, you can be as informal as the rest of the command."
"I only got about three quarters of the way through this. Haven't you folks ever heard of imaging?"
Janet leaned over her desk and snagged a sticky note, She wrote some information on it and stuck it on the outside of the file. "That's Colonel O'Neill's file number and the mainframe commands to get in. You should have been assigned a password when you got your orders."
Anna nodded her thanks and stopped at the door to look back. "When sleeping beauty wakes up, don't tell him about this." She raised her sling. "Just tell him I'll meet with him at 1130 in the VIP quarters. Do you think you can get Carter there by 1000?"
"She's reporting here at 0900, I'll just send her over."
Captain Samantha Carter sat patiently while Colonel MacKenzie made some notes in her file.
"Captain, have you experienced any interruptions in your sleep patterns or nightmares following your last mission?"
Sam just sighed. It was hard to look interested after you've heard this for the millionth time. "No, sir. Sleeping fine." That wasn't exactly true. Sam could still hear the colonel scream as the Goa'uld penetrated his body. It wasn't the stuff that sweet dreams were made of, however she didn't seem to be having the problems Jack and Daniel were.
"I'm sorry sir. What was that last question?"
MacKenzie peered at her over his glasses. "I asked how your appetite was, Captain."
"Fine, sir."
He looked at her intently and asked his final question. "Have you experienced any feelings of anger or rage since completing your last mission?"
Sam could have asked the question for him. "Well, Sir, no more than I would expect is normal. I mean we were imprisoned and subjected to some pretty awful stuff."
MacKenzie consulted the file. "Yes. The hand device. Any side effects?"
"No sir. I feel fine."
The psychiatrist signed something in the file and closed it gently. "Well, Captain, I have nothing further. You're cleared for active duty." He smiled at her. "It's good to have you back."
Sam forced herself to smile and got to her feet. "Thank you, sir. It's good to be back." As she turned to leave the Doctor asked her one last question.
"Captain, I don't see Colonel O'Neill on my appointment list. Have you seen him?"
"I think that's something you should discuss with Dr. Fraiser, sir." Sam made her escape before he could question her further.
Jack woke up when his jacket landed on his chest. Jumping up, startled, he tried to focus while he looked for the culprit.
"Carter! What the hell are you doing?"
Sam had the grace to look sheepish as she stood by the closed curtains. "Sir! Get dressed. We need to get out of here."
Without hesitation, Jack began throwing his boots on. If Carter said they had to leave, he was right there. Slipping into his jacket, he gave her a curious glance.
"Now, what is this about, Captain?"
"Sir, Dr. MacKenzie is looking for you."
Jack had to smile at that. After yesterday, the odds of him accidentally bumping into the guy were almost non-existent. Everyone in the SGC seemed to be actively working to keep him out of the shrink's hands, right into the hands of the short one with all of the attitude and the smart mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, absently running his fingers down the scar, just below his hairline on the back of his neck. There was something in the back of his mind. Like he had forgotten something. It was important. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fuzziness which seemed to be his constant companion this past week.
"Carter, I signed with Doc Giaf last night. I won't hide from MacKenzie. He can't touch me while I'm under her care…whatever the hell that means," he added dryly.
Walking over to the curtains, Jack took the two ends of the drape from Sam's hands. He could see Daniel making his way into the psychiatrist's office. He should stop by and tell MacKenzie, but right now, though, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was hungry.
"Captain, do me a favor and tell Dr. Fraiser that I'm going to get some breakfast. Then I'll head for my office. Okay?"
Sam nodded. "Will do, sir… and, sir? I'm glad you're feeling better."
Jack touched her lightly on the shoulder and sauntered out of the infirmary. 'Feeling better? Yeah, he was definitely feeling better.' The piercing headache had receded to the point where he could ignore it. His stomach rumbled as he came within smelling distance of the commissary. Snagging a newspaper, he grabbed a tray and followed the line of personnel winding their way through the serving lines. He was looking forward to reading the sports section. The Blackhawks had played last night. As he took his plate, he grinned. No oatmeal this morning. Then he grabbed a mug of coffee and went to sit down.
"Dammit, Anna! What the fuck did you do? Bring your entire reference library?"
Anna grinned as she towel dried her hair one handed. Janet's language was unchanged after all of these years. "Yeah! Like I didn't help you move five times in two years after your divorce, trash mouth! Now back to work, slave!"
A knock sounded at the door and it opened a crack, just as Anna emerged from the bathroom, struggling to button her utilities one-handed. Sam Carter stuck her head through the opening and was waved in.
"Come on in, Captain. I'm just finishing up."
"Anna? Where do you want this box?"
Anna laughed at the picture Janet made, struggling with a box that had to be as big as she was. "Just put it with the rest of the reference stuff next to the dresser."
As the box was laid with the rest, Anna lifted her bad arm and gestured at the jacket that was defeating her. "Can you help me out here, Jan?" Janet reached over and finished the job. Then, Anna handed her brush to the tiny doctor.
"Did I come early?" Sam asked.
"No, Captain. I fell asleep and Janet was kind enough to wake me. Please make yourself comfortable while I finish up here."
Displacing a box from a chair, Sam sat at the cluttered table and waited patiently as Janet pulled Giaf's hair back into a loose ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. Then, yanking on it once and waving to Sam, she left the room, closing the door with a quiet click. For a few moments there was a strained silence as the two women studied each other. Sam broke first.
"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"
"Just for some background information, Captain. It's nothing to look quite that nervous about. After meeting with Dr. Jackson, it occurred to me that I might not have the entire picture of your last mission. As the circumstances are what triggered the Colonel's current problems, I felt it best to get as complete a mission analysis as possible."
Sam stared at the doctor for a moment before replying, "I don't know what I can add to what's in the reports, but if I can help... "
Anna grabbed a manila folder from an open box at her feet and cleared off a chair across from Carter. "It says in your report, Hathor approached us on the ramp in the fake Gate room. She asked us questions related to the IRIS codes and the Asgard. When she received no response, she called one of her Jaffa to her and removed a mature symbiote ready for implantation. Then she passed it before Daniel, me, and the colonel. When it was Colonel O'Neill's turn, the symbiote became agitated and seemed to reach out to him. The colonel then indicated that she should 'get on with it' and he grabbed the symbiote from her. He was hit with a Zat gun blast fired by Raleigh (the Tok'Ra operative). Giaf paused for a moment, trying to read the captain's reaction. Except for chewing on her bottom lip, there was no indica
tion of evasion. Giaf continued. "When he recovered, we were marched, under guard, to one of the cryogenic suspension rooms and the colonel was immobilized in the chamber. He made several comments and then he was taken as a host." When she stopped this time, she pulled a legal pad across the table and prepared to take notes. "Captain? Is there anything you want to add to this?"
"No, Doctor. That's pretty much how it happened."
There it was! "Pretty much, Captain? How about what actually happened? Any insights?" Sam began to fidget. Damn! This kid was harder to read than Jackson had been. What the hell were they all hiding? She kept her outward demeanor calm as her thoughts raced, touching on infinite possibilities while the blue eyes bored into hers, trying to assess her trustworthiness.
"He switched to the Imperial 'we' when Hathor told him what she was going to do. It struck me as odd at the time, but I just thought he was mimicking her." Sam shrugged, an elegant little lift of her shoulders. "He does that."
"What did Hathor say to him?"
The white hands resting on the table clenched into fists. "That she would enjoy watching him defeated." Sam's voice cracked and she swallowed hard. "That he would become her subject and then he would kill Daniel and me. The colonel said, 'We don't think so.' It was strange to hear him speak like that. I suppose you needed to be there."
Anna made a note on the pad. Hypervigilance "Did he cry out for help, Captain?"
"No, ma'am. He screamed when it entered his neck, but he never called for help."
The folder was opened again. "I returned to the cryogenic suspension room and found Raleigh slumped against the far wall. She indicated that the controls to the colonel's chamber were pre-set and I should activate them. When the device opened, the colonel was unresponsive. I released his restraints and checked for the Goa'uld. There was no sense of it. Raleigh said it had died. As I was about to assist Colonel O'Neill from the chamber, Hathor appeared and pinned me with her hand device. The colonel threw Hathor into the cryogenic fluid at the bottom of the chamber shaft."
"Anything to add to that, Captain? Any additional observations or comments?"
"He…he used the Imperial 'we' again."
Anna looked up from her notes. "Excuse me?"
"He used the imperial 'we' when he killed Hathor." Sam's eyes lost focus and she spoke slowly. "She had me in her hand device, I was starting to lose consciousness when the colonel appeared over her shoulder. He looked terrible. He grabbed her and screamed, 'We would just like you to go away!' and then he threw her over the rail. I could hear her scream all the way down." She shuddered.
Anna reached across the table and took the white fist in her hand. It was ice cold. Squeezing, she prodded the captain gently. "And?"
"And…we blew up the shield generator and made it home. End of mission." Sam withdrew her hand from the doctor's and placed it in her lap. "Ma'am, I don't see how any of this helps the colonel."
"It helps, Captain. I only have a few more questions." Anna didn't want to think about how relieved the young woman looked. "Can you think of anything other than the mission that might account for Colonel's current flashbacks?"
Sam met the brown gaze directly. "No, ma'am."
"How about his present behavior? Besides his obvious lack of sleep, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"
"He jumps," Sam said. "Whenever we get near him, he jumps and moves away."
Hyperarousal went under the previous notes. Physical Stimuli followed it. Then the doctor underlined it twice. Then she circled it. Putting down the pen, she pierced the captain with her gaze and asked her final question. "Has Colonel O'Neill demonstrated any signs of anger over what happened to him? You know, throwing things or breaking things?"
Sam seemed to consider the question and spoke carefully. "I haven't seen any signs of that, but he wouldn't do that sort of thing where anyone can see it. He'd do it behind closed doors, ma'am. The colonel's a very private person."
"Well, Captain, I appreciate you speaking so candidly with me this morning." Anna stood to indicate the session was at an end.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And Captain?" she gestured at the door. "Please leave the door open on your way out."
Jack sat in the crowded commissary, reading his sports section and enjoying the sounds of the facility beginning it's morning routines. He could almost believe that things were back to normal, until Makepeace walked over and decided to engage him in an early morning verbal sparring match.
"Morning, flyboy!"
"So how's the head? That squid make it any smaller yet?"
Jack rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the jarhead Colonel by pointedly reading his newspaper. After several moments he looked up. Damn! Still there! "What the hell do you want?"
"What? Can't a Marine just stand here if he wants?"
Jack bristled as a group of Marines at a nearby table snickered. "You have something to say, Makepeace? Because if you don't," Jack raised his paper, "you're blocking my light."
"Nah. Just thought I would come over and see how you were doing since we bailed out your six."
"You bailed us out?" Jack let go with an ugly laugh. "Wasn't that you and the rest of the Marines, tied up and on your knees in front of Trofsky? That was some rescue!"
Makepeace smirked. "You got your version flyboy, I got the truth. We wouldn't have been there if you could watch your step."
The paper was thrown on the table with a quick snap. Jack stood up, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes blazing. For a moment he entertained the thought of hitting the arrogant prick standing across from him. Then a saner voice prevailed. Unfortunately, it wasn't his.
"O'Neill? Do you require assistance?"
The fists relaxed as his perception righted itself. He couldn't do this. As much as he would like to lay the guy flat, hitting another officer was a court martial offense. "No Teal'c. It's fine. Isn't it, Makepeace?" Jack was relieved when the Colonel decided to quit while he was ahead.
"Yeah, sure. Everything's just fine. Later, O'Neill."
"You can count on it."
As Makepeace sauntered away, Jack sat back down and tried to calm his racing heart. He felt like it might actually jump out of his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? Without being aware of it, his hands clenched into fists again, the knuckles showing white against the brown of his fingers. He wanted to hit something until it felt as helpless and as angry as he did. He was so caught up in his internal struggle, he didn't notice when Teal'c slid into the chair across from him.
"Colonel Makepeace seems quite pleased with himself at your expense, O'Neill."
He looked up and saw the Jaffa studying him with concerned eyes. For some insane reason, that look made him even angrier. He watched as the concern in Teal'c eyes changed to alarm.
"What has happened, O'Neill? Perhaps I should I call Dr. Fraiser?"
Jack was surprised to realize he was breathing hard. He couldn't quite catch his breath. Jumping to his feet, he flew out of the commissary, knocking plastic chairs out of his way. He desperately needed to put some space between himself and those caring, compassionate eyes.
"O'Neill!"
He felt his arm clasped in an iron grip. "Leave me alone, Teal'c!" The band loosened and he made his escape. He ran through the corridors, making a beeline for his office. He could close the door and get himself under control there. When he arrived at his destination, his hands were shaking so badly, he couldn't get the key in the lock. In a burst of anger, he threw his shoulder into it and the door jam gave way, sending splinters of wood into the office. Pushing the door closed as he fell into the room, he looked at the pile of paperwork taunting him from his desk. Desk duty! That was all he was fit for! Picking up the offensive folders, he threw them with all of his strength at the bookshelf in the corner. There was a satisfying crash as objects and paper went flying in all directions. He crossed to the bookshelf and grabbed the unit, throwing it down. It cracked as it hit the desk. Jack muscled it out of the way and grabbed the corner of his desk. He was about to send the entire thing over when he felt arms wrap around him from behind. He thrust his head back and had the satisfaction of hearing a pained grunt, but the arms still held him fast. He was incensed now. Thrusting his head back harder this time, he heard the crunch of bones as his head connected with his assailants nose. When the arms loosened, he spun and back fisted the intruder in the head, noticing vaguely as Teal'c crumpled against the wall.
Major Ferretti, hearing the altercation in the Colonel's office and noticing the broken door, hit the alarm and rushed in just as the Colonel was about to throw his desk chair. At Ferretti's gasp, Jack froze, his arms raised, eyes black with rage, and the chair held awkwardly at chest level. He stared, as O'Neill seemed to deflate before his eyes. The chair dropped and Jack collapsed in a heap, leaning against the ruins of his desk, his head in his hands. The slump of his shoulders spoke volumes. Christ! This defeated hulk was not the Colonel he'd known since Abydos. He didn't even look up as he made his way through the office to check on Teal'c. The guy was still breathing but out cold. As quietly as possible, Ferretti made his way back through the debris to the door. Jack's harsh breathing echoed in the confines of the office. It was a desperate sound and made him uncomfortable. It was like listening to someone sob without the comfort of tears. When the security people burst through the door, Ferretti motioned them to be silent. Then, he walked up to the first SF and said quietly, "Get a medical team in here and try to get a hold of that Squid Doctor staying in the VIPQ." As the men rushed off, Teal'c began to stir.
When Anna arrived, Janet was already tending to Teal'c. Hammond, Carter, and Daniel were standing in the corridor outside the office, speaking in hushed tones. Anna nodded, noting the pensive expression on their faces even as she flew by them all, rounding the corner and coming to an abrupt halt. The office looked like it had been hit with a grenade. Papers were scattered all over the place. The office furniture was wrecked beyond repair, and in some places, the walls were going to need plaster. It was then she noticed the man sitting on the floor next to the battered desk. He appeared to be the victim of the war as he sat there among the ruins, not the founder of the skirmish. His head was in his hands, the fingers rubbing the scar at the base of his neck.
"Jack?" She said softly.
When he looked up, she almost took a step back. The bleakness reflected in his eyes was shattering. They reflected the vast wasteland that remained of Jack O'Neill. He had given up. As his head went back down, she wanted to shake him, or taunt him. Anything to get him fighting against the illness that held him in its unforgiving grasp.
"I'll be right back, Jack." She promised though it was more for her benefit than for the shattered man. He was beyond hearing her, trapped in his own private hell of delusion and self-recrimination.
Stepping into the hallway, the crowd outside was getting larger as the various personnel came to see what was going on. She watched in amazement as General Hammond dispersed most of the crowd with a few quiet words. Motioning to Carter, she stepped away from the office. Then, whispering quietly, she posed her question.
"What happened, Captain?"
"The Colonel attacked Teal'c, Ma'am."
Anna shook her head. "What happened first, the office or Teal'c?"
"With all due respect, Ma'am, what difference does it make? He did it."
"It matters, Captain."
Again, that shrug that Anna was beginning to associate with the captain. "According to Teal'c, he followed the Colonel from the commissary. When he got here, he found the door broken and Colonel O'Neill destroying his office."
"Thanks, Captain."
Anna made her way over to Janet and spoke softly in her ear. Janet reached into the pocket of her lab coat and handed her a syringe. Concealing it in the sling, the psychiatrist entered the office again and closed the door. The lights were still off and when she went to flip the switch, the man on the floor looked up.
"No…please."
The flat tone of the voice grated along Anna's nerves. It was a dead voice. No inflection or emotion colored it, to make it belong to a living being. She shivered a little as she maneuvered herself down next to Jack. He jumped as she put her hand on the back of his neck but she kept it there anyway.
"Does your head hurt?"
The response was a despondent nod.
"Chest?"
He just nodded and kept his head down. She kneaded the tense neck muscles and tried again.
"Jack? Can you tell me what happened?"
He began to shake then. Great heaving shudders that raced through her arm as his respiration increased. "Teal'c?" he gasped.
"He's fine, Jack. Lets just worry about you right now. Do you need something to help you calm down?"
He shook his head but the movement was pained and palsied.
Anna tried again. "Jack? Let me give you something to take the edge off the worst of it. It's just a sedative. You won't be alone. I promise."
He looked up and she winced at the raw anguish she saw written there. His devastation was almost contagious. If she wasn't careful, this man could pull her down with him into hell. Mentally shaking herself, she forced herself to look away from those tortured eyes and focused on the matter at hand. She painfully eased her arm from the sling. Taking his arm gently, she rolled up his sleeve and wiped an alcohol swab over the injection site. Then, she slipped the cap off the syringe and flicked tube to force any bubbles to the bottom. Depressing the plunger a bit, she watched as a drop of fluid came through the pinnacle, ensuring that no air would pass through the needle. She injected him as gently as possible, not wanting to startle him any more. He leaned against the desk again, tilting his head back until his head rested against the edge. She took his callused hand in hers and sat there until he began to blink, trying to fight the effects of the sedative. His breathing had slowed to a more normal rhythm and he began to relax. As his eyes drifted shut, she eased her hand out of his and got slowly to her feet. Anna pulled the sling over her head and tossed it on the floor. Damn thing was more trouble then it was worth. Then, picking her way through the debris, she opened the door and signaled to the waiting orderlies.
"Take him to the infirmary and put him in a private room. Okay? And guys? No restraints."
They both nodded and entered the darkened office. Anna shot Janet a look, daring her to countermand her orders. Fraiser seemed to hesitate and then walked off down the hall, acquiescing to her demands for the moment. Breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to have to fight Janet on this, Anna waited while her patient was placed on the gurney. She hoped she had made the right call. She just couldn't bring herself to send Jack for the eval at 10MDG. Locking him up, even for a few weeks would be tantamount to victimizing him. His file was far too graphic about his imprisonment in Iraq for her to consider that a viable option. As they wheeled Jack out, she automatically walked along side, checking his pulse and looking for any signs of distress.
1100 hours
Jack came awake with the depressing realization he was in a gray infirmary cell. The medical staff had made an attempt to brighten it up with little homey touches here and there, but when you got right down to it, it was still a cell. Following that revelation came the knowledge that he was once again, a guest of Dr. Fraiser and her psychiatrist friend. As if he had conjured her up with his thoughts, Giaf appeared at his side.
"Good. Sleeping Beauty finally decides to join us."
Jack went to raise his head and thought better of it when it protested loudly.
"What the hell happened?" he gasped, squinting against the overhead light as it was snapped it on.
"What do you remember?"
He grimaced as she checked his pupils with a penlight. "Fighting? The Commissary? Makepeace and his mouth…" Jack sat up. "Teal'c!!!"
A soft hand on his shoulder pushed him down again. "He's fine. You broke his nose and he's going to have a killer headache but the symbiote appears to be repairing all of it faster than anything Janet could have done."
"And you?" He pointed to the facial lacerations she was sporting.
"I fell in the infirmary last night."
"On your face?"
She blushed under his scrutiny. "I um… well … it looks worse than it is."
As Jack closed his eyes, his merciless mind played back scenes from the last day and night. Scattered images of rage and violence so previously inconceivable that he almost didn't believe it was him. He could still hear the crunch of Teal'c's nose breaking and see him slide down the wall. 'What the hell? Maybe they should lock me up.'
Opening his eyes, he saw Giaf dragging a chair over to his bed. She moved slowly, favoring her left arm. He caught her eye and looked away as she tried to smile. He had done that too. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he replayed last night's events. He threw her over the bed. Christ! Threw was too nice a word. Launched was more like it. Afterward, she had held him while he desperately tried to forget what he had seen. He had held fast to that fragile frame like it could hold all of the nightmares at bay. For a time it had. Then the dream had returned.
Jack felt his eyes burn beneath his closed lids and forced the tears back. He could still feel the sensation in his arm as the hand device discharged. The smell of burned flesh assaulted his senses and he gagged. He felt a small, cool hand on his chest. The pressure was firm and steady. He grabbed for it, holding on for all he was worth. The panic was all consuming. The knowledge that he couldn't stop the alien presence from taking his mind and body was shattering. He had always known it wouldn't happen to him! Dammit, he was a Special Forces trained Colonel in the U.S. Air Force! Not some illiterate kid raised in a filthy naquada mine across the galaxy. He was supposed to be impervious to these things!
Look at him now. He had hurt his friends, doctors, trashed his life, his career, and now he was losing his mind. The fracture from reality this morning was just the beginning. He knew what was next. Jack had seen this before. Most of the guys he came back from Abu Ghraib Prison with were screwed up beyond belief. Some had cried all night in the West German hospital, keeping all of them awake with their pitiful sobs. The end came when they were sedated and taken away. He had never seen them again, but he had heard what happened to them. Institutionalized for their own protection and the safety of their families. And now…
"God! I'm gone."
Jack hadn't realized he said it aloud until the hand in his pulled free and tried to lift the arm from his eyes.
"Come on, Jack. Look at me."
He resisted for a moment before allowing her to remove his shield. He felt naked. Exposed. He knew the hopelessness was written on his face. If seeing his failure would help her then he would show her all of it because she was, quite literally, his last hope. He saw the pity and compassion on her face and felt the burn again, but he didn't cry. He couldn't. He couldn't seem to do anything but stare into those perceptive brown eyes and hope she saw something worth saving.
"You're not gone yet, Jack. Do you hear me?" the doctor asked him.
Jack tried to form an answer but his throat seemed to close up on him. He started to close his eyes as the wave of despair began to swallow him again. He felt the small hand grip his jaw and force him to focus on her again.
"You're not gone until I say so. Do you understand me?" The surprisingly strong fingers on his jaw tightened their grip. "You're not gone till I say so! Now show me you heard me!"
Beyond words, Jack just nodded.
"I need you fully alert when we discuss your diagnosis and treatment. Now get yourself together. We're going to be leaving the base in about three hours so I'd like to get some food in you before we go. I'll have it brought to you." She paused at his uncomfortable expression. "I know, Jack. I don't like keeping you in here, but the Commissary is probably not the best idea right now."
He nodded again.
"I'll be back around 1430. Until then, I'm going to okay you for visitors. Your team has been waiting to see you and at least you won't be sitting here alone. I'll have them wait another five while you get dressed and then instruct the airman to let them in."
As the door closed with a firm click, Jack stared at the gray tiled ceiling, wondering how he was supposed to 'get himself together?' "You get up!" his inner voice screamed. Sighing heavily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and ignored the fuzzy aftereffects of the sedative. He put his feet under him and stood, rocking back on his heels until he got his balance back. Then, moving slowly, he pulled his utilities off a chair and began to dress.
Anna trotted down the hallway, making her way to the infirmary. She tapped her foot impatiently as the door rumbled and slipped through before it had completely opened. She immediately spotted Janet sitting at her computer, typing stats into the database.
"Jan!" she called. "You have a minute for me?"
"Of course. What is it?"
The psychiatrist tossed the file she was carrying across the desk. "The preliminary diagnosis and treatment recommendations for Colonel O'Neill."
"Finally!"
Anna slid into the guest seat across from the desk as Janet opened the file. Slouching in the chair, she waited while the Chief Medical Officer read her conclusions and recommendations. There were things in the report that would upset her. Jan was a good friend of the Colonel's and his treatment would require that she relinquish supervision over his case. A hard thing for any medical doctor, but even harder when you were personally involved.
Keeping her fingers crossed, she kept guarded eyes on her friend while she made plans in her head. They would need supplies for at least five days. Food and meds were a problem. Location was another. Where could she take him that he would feel safe? Was there anywhere on the planet that a man of his background could relax and feel secure without well wishers dropping by? She would like to take him back to Denver, but the way she had left there, her normal three-ring circus of a life was sure to have grown by at least two more rings. Besides, her neighbors were too friendly to leave them alone for very long. Especially if she showed up with a good looking Air Force Colonel in tow while her husband was away.
She saw Janet flip the pages back and begin reading again from the beginning. Every few moments she would stop and make a notation on a pad, never taking her eyes off of the neatly typed pages. After what seemed liked forever, Janet looked up and addressed her.
"PTSD. There's a surprise." She said sarcastically. "Would you explain the classification you used? What is Criteria Group D?"
"Group D applies mainly to prisoners of war, but I've seen it applied to kidnapping victims as well. The main symptom is hypersensitivity. It's usually manifested as a sleep disorder with several other problems. Irritability or bursts of rage, difficulty concentrating, hypervigilance, exaggerated reactions to external stimuli and sometimes, flashbacks triggered by something the victim sees or hears. After spending the last two days with your colonel and reading his file, I've come to the conclusion that this is probably what we're dealing with."
"And what about the treatment recommendation? I don't think I'm familiar with the term 'flooding'."
Anna rubbed her forehead as the tension headache she was fighting all morning came to full flower. "Flooding is having the patient recount the trauma while the therapist listens."
Janet looked flabbergasted. "That's it? That's the big treatment? He could have done that with me! How the hell is that supposed to help?"
"Jan, I can't explain every nuance of my profession to you, any more than you can explain a surgical procedure to a layman. Psychotherapeutic listening is a respected method of treating Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's about how you listen and what you hear as opposed to just lending an ear. Besides, there are other recommendations in that report as well."
"Stress therapy? Relaxation techniques? The man is former Special Forces! You honestly think he doesn't know these things?"
"He may know them, but he can't apply them to his current situation. I can help him do that, but I can't do it here. I need your help. I have to get O'Neill off base and…"
"Are you crazy?" Fraiser interrupted. "If you think I'm going to let him loose on the public, you might need your head examined! The Colonel is violent and as such, he's a menace."
The psychiatrist shook her head sadly. "Can you really know so little about what's going on with him, Jan?" She couldn't believe her oldest friend was saying that Jack was a danger to society. "He's in pain, and," she conceded, "he is a menace to office furniture, but you have to understand, Teal'c just happened to get in the way. Like the desk."
"And what if someone else gets in the way like you did last night? What if he mistakes a civilian for an expendable object? Who's going to stop him? You?"
"Yeah. If I have to. Either way, you're just going to have to trust me. I can keep him from raging."
Looking at Janet, she saw the worry behind the anger and instantly regretted her antagonizing question. Challenging her was not the way to go.
"I've known him for three years. How about you?" Fraiser shot back. "I've had my hands in his guts up to the elbows. I think I've earned the right to make a judgment call here." She was on her feet now, leaning over Giaf. "He's not leaving this complex unless it's to transfer him to the 10MDG for Psych Evaluation. I should have done that in the first place. What was I thinking bringing you down here? He's getting worse and you don't seem to be helping!"
Anna stood toe to toe with Fraiser, anger blazing in her eyes. "What did you expect, a miracle cure? That I was going to wave some magic wand and make everything fine after a few days? Well I hate to break it to you, but his little outburst was just the beginning! Colonel O'Neill is right at the edge and anyone who's had the stomach to read his file would have been expecting this long before now, so back off, Jan! I'm on the job now and I know what's best for him." She paused to calm down. Yelling at Janet was not going to accomplish anything either. She walked around her recently vacated chair and placed it between them as a buffer. "I can bring him back from the precipice, Jan. I can do it but you have to trust me. If you're going to question every move I make, I may as well pack up now and go back to my life."
The two doctors stood facing each other for long moments. Brown eyes searched brown eyes, looking for reassurance and support, seeking the friendship and loyalty that had gotten them this far. Anna held her breath as Janet looked away first and sat back down at her desk. She slipped into what Anna like to refer to as her 'professional demeanor'. The, 'I can maintain my objectivity' mode. 'Like hell.' She thought.
"What kind of assurances can you give me that Colonel O'Neill will not be a danger to himself or anyone else once you leave CMC?"
Giaf contemplated the enormity of the question. Taking a deep breath, she gave the only answer she could. "Shit, Jan. I can't give you a guarantee. All I can promise is that I won't take my eyes off him for a minute."
"I need to think about this. Can you give me twenty four hours?"
"No." She shook her head. "I want to get him out of here now. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe. Someplace where I can talk to him and he won't feel threatened. The sooner, the better."
Anna cringed internally under Janet's piercing stare. She squared her shoulders and met the challenge, trying to instill more confidence than she felt into her posture.
"If I let you do this, I'm putting my ass on the line with yours. You may have a civilian life out there but I happen to like the Air Force and have a career here. You're asking me to trust you with the well being of one of my patients without being nearby to monitor his progress."
"That's exactly what I want."
"You're asking for a leap of faith."
Anna smiled at that. "Yeah. A leap of faith. Faith in me."
"You don't ask much," Fraiser quipped. "Well if you're taking him out of here, where do you plan to go and how long will you be gone?"
"I was hoping you could suggest a place. Preferably somewhere green. Oh, and figure we'll be gone for about five days."
"I know just the place. I have a cabin off Jackson Lake in Teton. It's real picturesque. Hot springs, pine trees, and all the fish you can catch. Jack spent a week there last summer, stargazing and fishing. He seemed to really enjoy it. He came back tanned and rested. I was going to let him use it again this year. It's not like I get up there much since the divorce. You're going to need some stuff though. I'll get his Medical Leave form filled out and meet you at my place in about two hours."
When Janet made to move around her, Anna grabbed her arm. "Jan, I don't know what to say. Thanks."
"Just bring him back to us in one piece."
It seemed to be more of a warning than a request. Anna resolved to do better than that. She vowed to bring him back healing.
Teal'c hesitated outside the infirmary room, his hand resting lightly on the doorknob as he debated entering. Perhaps he should give O'Neill more time. After all, his symbiote had not yet healed his nose and the bruises that surrounded his eyes were sure to distress his team leader.
Reaching up, he gingerly ran his fingertips around the edges of the bandage, feeling the bone already knitted beneath the tape. There was little pain now and the discoloration would be gone by the morning. Maybe he should wait until then. He began to walk away when he heard a sound from behind the door. The infirmary mattress compressing as the rooms occupant sat heavily upon it. Teal'c hesitated again. He could not walk away from O'Neill and leave him in the solitary room to agonize alone. It was O'Neill who had liberated the prisoners on Chulak and had given a bitter Jaffa hope for the freedom of his people. It was O'Neill who came back for him and declared them friends, bringing him to Earth, even though he had been counted among the colonel's enemies until the last moment before the escape. He could not leave this man in his time of need. Grasping the door handle, he rapped lightly and opened the door, stepping into the room.
O'Neill was seated on the bed with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up and his arms loosely encircling them. It was a defensive position that Teal'c recognized. He had seen this same posture when the team had returned from Nem's planet without Daniel Jackson. It signified tired acceptance and concerned the Jaffa more than the loudest screaming.
"O'Neill. Dr. Giaf has said we may visit you now. Is there anything you require?"
The man on the bed didn't look up.
"Sorry about the nose."
Teal'c fingered the tape again. "It is fine. My symbiote has corrected the broken bone already."
"Way to go, Junior."
Teal'c had to strain to hear him, because the words were spoken hoarsely and barely above a whisper.
"O'Neill. I do not understand this sickness. What can I do to assist you in healing?" Teal'c went to stand beside the bed, placing a hand on the bent knee. The knee jerked and was followed by an audible gasp as O'Neill pulled his legs back further as if trying to become part of the wall. Teal'c pulled his arm away and clasped his hands behind his back, not wanting to distress the man further. "I am sorry. I will not touch you again."
O'Neill held up a hand. "It's okay, Teal'c. It's not your fault."
Not knowing what to say, the Jaffa stood silently by, hands clenched into fists behind his back as an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness swept through him. He carefully kept his face neutral as his mind struggled to make sense of this illness O'Neill had contracted. It was apparent that nothing he could say would bring any measure of comfort to his friend.
Teal'c watched O'Neill tense as the voices of Daniel Jackson and Captain Carter were heard on the other side of the door.
Anna paced the corridor at the C-5 intersection, checking her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. Janet had been in with the General for twenty-five minutes now. What the hell was taking her so long? All she had to do was hand him a form and have the General sign off on it so she and O'Neill could get the hell out of Dodge.
She checked her watch again.
Sam placed the tray down on the bed table, lifting the cover off the plate. The sandwich looked flat and unappealing. She watched pensively as Daniel leaned over from his seat beside the bed and made a face at the food before passing the plate to the Colonel.
"You know, Jack, you should really try to eat. Dr. Giaf says she needs you to try before you leave." Daniel said.
The lack of response didn't surprise Carter, but Daniel was another story.
"Come on, Jack. I know it's hospital food, but I really think you should try. Just take half."
Sam winced. Daniel was treating him like a child who was refusing to eat his dinner. Unwilling to let it go on, she snapped at him. "Daniel, I don't think it makes any difference whether he eats the damn sandwich. Leave him alone about it. If he wants it, he'll eat it!"
She instantly regretted her sharp tone as Daniel pulled back and flashed her a hurt expression.
"I'm only trying to get some food into him."
"Perhaps O'Neill is not hungry," Teal'c added.
"O'Neill is in the room, kids."
The harsh whisper shocked Sam. Looking at the colonel, she was immediately lost in the misery reflected in his face. The rings under his eyes seemed to have deepened since she had 'rescued' him this morning and the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones stood out in stark relief as he tilted his head back against the wall, eyes closed. He looked hollowed out and defeated. As if he was unwilling or unable to go on any longer.
"Yes, sir." Against her will, Sam felt tears sting her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks and embarrass her. Blinking rapidly, she got them under control. "We're just worried about you."
"Thanks for the concern, Captain, but I just need to be left alone."
"Colonel, we know that you're going away for a while and we wanted to say goodbye." Her voice cracked and she looked away. It was like watching a head on collision in slow motion. She wanted desperately to offer him some hope, but she knew the score as well as he did. It was torture to watch a strong man like the colonel disintegrate before her eyes.
"Goodbye, Carter."
There was no inflection in the voice. Just emptiness. A wasteland. The finality of the statement, grated on her nerves like cut glass. Choking up, she turned her head away, unaware that Daniel was going to take up the charge.
"Come on, Jack. We're just trying to help here. You have to admit, you haven't exactly been yourself lately. What are we supposed to do while you fall apart? Watch? Is that what you expect us to do?"
Sam could almost feel the colonel's frustration as he slapped the plastic plate away from Daniel's hand. It flew across the room, clattering against the wall and spinning to a stop, a few inches from the bed.
"Just … leave … me … alone."
Walking around the bed, Sam placed her hand on Daniel's shoulder, letting him know she shared his hurt bewilderment. He shook off her hand and she busied herself with picking up the lunch debris, unwilling to let him see how much it stung to be shrugged off. When she placed the remains on the tray, she looked up to see Daniel staring at the Colonel.
"Daniel?" she prompted.
He looked at her and she was surprised to see that Daniel wasn't hurt. His blue eyes glared at her and she involuntarily took a mental step back. He was deeply and profoundly angry.
Janet came down the stairs waving the release. When Anna would have grabbed it, she pulled it back.
"Not so fast!"
"What? I haven't groveled enough?"
"Lets go to my office." Janet said. "We have some things to cover before you leave."
Daniel sat, listening to the click of the door closing behind Sam and Teal'c. He could barely contain his anger, his hands shook as they gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white with tension.
"Jack, I can't believe you would speak to Sam that way. She was only trying to help!" He struggled to keep his voice calm, but the words came out harsher than he intended.
"Well, who asked her to?"
Daniel could barely hear him and had to strain to make out the next statement.
"I just want to be left alone."
"Well fine, Jack. Aren't you the one who's always telling me not to give up? That we're just having a bad day? Am I supposed to walk away and leave you like this? Then what? Attend your funeral after you eat your gun?" Daniel regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, jumping up in agitation. "Oh God, Jack! I'm sorry!" The words tumbled over each other as his hands gestured wildly. "I didn't mean it. You can't believe-"
He stopped in mid sentence because he thought he heard Jack say something. Daniel leaned closer.
"I should just do it."
Daniel felt the blood leave his face as the reality of the moment hit him square in the chest, interfering with his breathing. Jack had crossed the line. He wanted to die. It was Abydos all over again. Daniel's legs trembled and he groped behind him for his chair, sinking gratefully onto its plastic seat. Pictures of Jack, shooting himself played in vivid color across his closed eyelids. Jack's body motionless as blood spread in an ever-widening pool. Jack's waxen complexion marred by the torn flesh caused by the exploding bullet. Jack's gray hair tinged with red--
He opened his eyes and saw Jack still sitting in the same position. Whatever desolate place he had retreated to, Daniel couldn't reach him there. The rock he knew as Jack O'Neill was crumbling, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it but sit and watch.
Janet slid a file across the desk. "Here are the instructions to the cabin. The phone number is in there." She placed another folder on top of the other one. "You'll need these as well."
"What are they?" Anna asked, picking it up.
"Requisition forms for meds. You're planning on taking meds, aren't you?" Janet asked pointedly.
At Anna's nod, Janet continued, "While you fill those out, I'm going to take a ride out to Jack's house and pick up some stuff you'll need. These," she tossed yet another folder, "are progress report forms. I'll expect them faxed daily."
"Oh come on, Jan!"
"Daily, or I'll order you brought back!"
Janet smiled at the long-suffering sigh that followed her pronouncement. Apparently, Anna knew when to quit while she was ahead, but she didn't do it gracefully.
Jack could hear Daniel talking, but he didn't have the energy to respond. Visions of his life danced through his mind in scattered order. The distant past combined with the more recent events in a macabre chain of failure after failure. Some came to rest before his closed eyes while others flitted away as he struggled to still the rapid-fire rush of images. Charlie being born, then bleeding to death in his arms as he was rushed to the hospital. Coming home to an empty house after the first Abydos mission. Sitting on Charlie's bed with his 9MM in his hands. The evac to the hospital in West Germany, his cell in Abu Ghraib Prison. Crouching on the floor of his bedroom closet while Sara pleaded with him to come out. The suffocating darkness of his cell in Iraq, then the overpowering white of the Cryogenic chamber in Hathor's compound. The Gould burrowing into the back of his neck, then the fists of his Iraqi jailers as they interrogated him. The sandy floor of the prison as he landed hard, spitting blood and choking on the dust. The cold of Antarctica. The warmth of the Iraqi desert.
He squeezed his head between his hands, hoping the mad movie would stop playing in Surround Sound.
He lifted his eyes. He could see Daniel speaking to him, his face animated and concerned. Jack couldn't make out the words and shook his head, trying to clear his senses. The movement made his headache blossom again and he gasped as it throbbed at the base of his skull. Rubbing it absently, he fingered the scar that marred his neck courtesy of Hathor. He could make out Daniel's babbling now.
"Oh God, Jack! I'm sorry!" The words tumbled over each other as his hands gestured wildly. "I didn't mean it. You can't believe-"
"I should just do it." The moment he said the words, Jack knew he had taken the final step towards the end of his pain.
Anna drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, tapping in time to Creedence, and wondering what she had done to deserve the torture of being stuck behind the eighteen-wheeler she had been following for the last twenty-five minutes. The worst part of it was that they had been making good time, flying down the picturesque single-lane highway that led to Grand Teton State Park, and Janet's cabin. The trees lined the road had grown into a living canopy that directed the late afternoon sunshine into a spider web of patterns that cast beautiful geometric shapes across the dashboard. All in all, it had been a restful drive. Restful that is until 'Bubba the Truck Driver' had decided to pull in front of her. Now the single lane road had become a test of wills. All joy in the drive dissipated the first time the tractor-trailer had slowed to a crawl around a curve. Now she was living to find a passing lane or until 'Bubba' had to answer the call of nature and she could get around the damned truck.
Glancing over at O'Neill, she noted he seemed to have nodded off. He rested his head against the window and his eyes were closed. The expression that had been so strained for the last two days looked relieved in sleep. The clean lines of his face were smooth except for the stubble that darkened his jaw. She examined him in detail. The dim light of the infirmary hadn't allowed her to study him and she took full advantage of the magic filtered light as it danced across him, casting intricate shadows across his cheekbones and brow ridge. He looked tired. That was obvious, but under that, there was a sense of being on guard that unnerved her. It was a habit adapted by a combat soldier and was something she hadn't seen in a while.
"Come on, 'Bubba'. Move that monster!" she muttered under her breath. "Don't you have to use the head yet?"
Her voice sounded loud in the confines of the car and she noticed that the tape had finished. Popping it out by feel, she grabbed the first tape that her fingers brushed against.
Eric Clapton's voice began to croon Tears in Heaven. She heard O'Neill sigh and looked over at him. He was looking out the window, a melancholy expression on his face.
Would you know my name?
If I saw you in heaven …
Would it be the same?
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong…
And carry on …
Cause' I know I don't belong,
Here in heaven
Oh no, she thought, That was a major mistake! Whipping the tape out of the player, she chucked it over her shoulder into the back seat. She slipped another tape into the slot; the car was soon filled with the upbeat sounds of the Beach Boys.
"Interesting choice of music you have in your car, O'Neill. A tune for every occasion?"
When she received no response, Anna shrugged and began to bob her head in time to 'Help Me Rhonda' as she braked once more when the taillights in front of hear began to glow red.
"Damn! Come on, Bubba! Move that thing!"
Three hours later, Anna turned into the drive for the cabin. The dirt road was almost invisible in the darkness. When she finally fixed the parking brake, her relief was a tangible thing.
"Colonel?"
Jack felt someone shake his arm and grabbed the offensive hand instinctively. He opened his eyes and saw Giaf sitting on the driver side. She sat perfectly still and he knew she was waiting for him to hurt her. Disgusted with himself, Jack threw her hand away from him and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up.
"What?" He asked.
"We're here." She pointed towards his window. "Jan's cabin. Why don't you get started on the bags while I open it up and get the lights on."
He slid out of the car and shut the door with a quiet click. The woods were alive with sounds and Jack felt like they were intruders as the alien sounds of locks turning and gravel crunching echoed in the clearing of the cabin.
He must have slept a couple of hours judging by how dark it had gotten. Giaf had left the headlights on and they illuminated the trees, casting eerie shadows in the woods beyond. He spun around when he heard a branch snap, almost jumping out of his skin when the doctor came up behind him.
"Colonel, how are the bags coming?"
"Don't do that!"
"Do what?" She looked perplexed.
"Sneak up --. Never mind. Where do you want these?" He held aloft, two duffle bags.
"Just put them inside the door. One of those is yours. Jan went by your house and picked up some stuff she thought you would need."
Jack checked the tags and noted his name was indeed on one of them. That annoying feeling of being usurped was back again. He bristled a little as he carried them up the front steps to the wrap-around porch. Everyone was having such a great time 'managing' him. Well that would come to an end this weekend. There was no way he was going to tolerate this kind of thing. He was an officer! People followed his orders. Not the other way around.
Opening the front door, he dropped the bags inside the cabin, and headed back out to help with the groceries the doc had stopped for somewhere. Amazingly, he had slept through that as well.
As he loped onto the porch, he passed the doctor struggling under a box full of books and computer printouts. Her laptop was balanced precariously on top. He almost offered to help but thought better of it. If she wanted to be in charge, she could carry the damned things herself. He smiled innocently as she grimaced and continued her wrestling match with the box and computer, cursing when she struck something in the darkness of the cabin's interior. He heard a crash followed by a string of profanity that his instructor from boot camp would have admired. Jack chuckled.
He crossed to the car, checking the now empty back seat and closing the door before heading for the trunk. Behind the box of groceries was a crate that looked surprisingly familiar. Pulling it closer, he recognized his telescope. The ever-thoughtful Doc Fraiser knew him better than he knew himself. Hefting the crate onto his shoulder, he started back to the cabin, leaving the groceries for Giaf. He had a telescope to set up.
Anna carried in the last of the bags and kicked the door shut. A fire crackling in the fireplace gave the small room warmth and she silently thanked the person who set the grate up with logs and kindling before closing up the cabin. It took the chill off the room and made the isolated feel of the place less prevalent. The colonel had disappeared behind the cabin with his telescope and she hadn't seen or heard from him for twenty minutes. She stacked the groceries on the counter and began to assemble what she would need to feed them tonight. It would have to be sandwiches. That was the extent of her culinary ability.
"I sure hope he cooks," she said to the empty room. "Otherwise, we're going to live on cold cuts."
Jack didn't look up when he heard the sliding glass door open. He figured Giaf would seek him out sooner or later. He heard her come up behind him. She was deliberately making noise to let him know she was there. He was expecting her to talk so when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, he jumped a little. A plate was set on the deck table next to his astronomy notebook, then the hand was removed with a slight pat and the footsteps receded, leaving him to the forest and his solitary enjoyment of the stars.
Feeling strangely bereft, Jack groped for the sandwich, taking a bite without really tasting it. He missed being comfortable with himself. This thing that had him in its grip was kicking the crap out of him. He wasn't sure how to feel from one moment to the next and the sensation of helplessness threatened his very manhood. Leaning back from the telescope, he glanced through the sliding glass door into the cabin. The fire looked warm and inviting. Jack didn't want to face the doctor yet. He took another bite of the sandwich, glancing down at it when the flavor finally penetrated his numbed taste buds. Who the hell puts mayonnaise on roast beef? Jack shrugged. He'd had worse and it wouldn't kill him. Taking another bite, he ignored his body's reaction to the unpleasant combination and looked through the eyepiece again. It was a beautiful clear night and the view from here was magnificent.
It was after midnight when Jack finally entered the cabin. The fire had been left burning low. The glass doors closed against any dangerous ashes that might escape. Opening them, he added another log and prodded the fire to new life. It cast its glow on the room bringing his attention to a note and journal left on the coffee table.
Colonel,
We'll start first thing in the morning. Please try and get some sleep.
The journal is part of the therapy. Starting now, please keep a diary of your thoughts and feelings.
Giaf
Jack looked at the offensive book he now held. She expected him to just pick up a pen and write down everything he thought about? Did the words 'National Security' have no meaning to the woman? He crumpled the note and tossed it into the fire. It flared a bit before being consumed by the flames. He considered throwing the book into the fireplace as well, but changed his mind, tossing it onto the couch instead. He had no intention of using it but the idea of burning a book didn't appeal to him. She could give it to someone else.
He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Not seeing beer, he grabbed a soft drink and returned to the couch in front of the fire. He sat staring at the fire for over an hour before he picked up the journal again. A pen had been clipped onto the front cover. Without giving himself time to think about it, he removed the pen and began to write.
Jack's Journal
The doc says I'm supposed to write what I'm feeling but I'm not sure what to say. We came back from Hathor's compound in one piece. I got my kids home. I know I should find some satisfaction in that but all I'm feeling right now is scared. I'm really losing it here. The nightmares are getting worse and I'm starting to embellish them now. When I first got back, all I dreamed about was Hathor, the worm, and what it felt like. Now I can see myself killing Sam and Daniel with a hand device. It's so real that I can feel the burn up my arm and smell the blood. I see their broken bodies crumpled against a wall, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. The snake laughs as I fight it. It knows it's in control. I can't even lower my own hand. I don't know how much longer I can live with this. I can't control what I dream. Can I? Daniel said I've given up, but I haven't. I just don't know how to fight this thing. I want to beat my head into the wall until I feel better, or until the snake comes out. Maybe if I had seen its dead carcass, I would feel like it was really over. But I didn't, so it isn't. I'm hoping the doc can help me. Maybe she can tell me what's causing me to flake out and I can eventually get my life back. As they say, it ain't much, but it's mine. I have to trust someone. Damn, this is hard! What the hell is the point of writing all of this crap down anyway?
Before he knew it, the entire page was filled and he felt strangely lighter. Somehow, the act of putting it down on paper relieved some minute part of the tension that had held him in its grip since his return. Jack placed the pen and journal on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch. He would only close his eyes for a few minutes …
Anna closed the grate in front of the fire, moving silently in her stocking feet through the chilly room. The journal was resting on the table where he had thrown it after writing in it. Her hand was halfway to it when she stopped. She couldn't read it before he was ready. It would be the same as stealing from him. Changing her direction, she pulled a throw off the chair, and laid it carefully on the sleeping man. There was no point in waking him and tomorrow was going to be difficult. Today. She corrected herself as she checked her watch. In a few hours, she would be hearing about the nightmare O'Neill was living. Anna padded across the room and slipped into the small bedroom she was using. If she was lucky, she could grab a couple of hours sleep, but it was unlikely. Not with the morning looming so ominous in front of her.
She left the door ajar and climbed into bed, listening to the soft snore that came from the outer room. Satisfied that she would hear if he needed her, she closed her eyes and began the relaxation techniques she hoped would allow her to rest. Within ten minutes she was asleep.
Anna jolted awake when a scream tore through the cabin.
"NO! God no! Sara!"
Anna's feet were moving before she hit the floor, tangling in the bedclothes and tripping her before stumbling into the living room. O'Neill lay thrashing on the couch, fighting off an unseen foe while his head whipped back and forth. Bracing herself, she grabbed his wrists and tried to pin him without getting hurt or injuring him. She ignored the jolt of pain to her injured shoulder as it protested the new abuse while she fought the wildly swinging arms.
"Jack!"
She felt the exact moment he woke up and became aware of her. He went limp and sank back into the cushions, breathing hard. Anna released him and moved to the armchair, waiting patiently while he collected himself. When his respiration slowed, she went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and pressed it into his hand.
"I can give you something to help you sleep," she said softly
"No," he croaked. "I don't want anything."
"Why, are you trying to be a hero?" She sat gingerly on the edge of the coffee table. "I can give you something mild." Anna waited while he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it in spikes. He didn't seem agitated anymore but she didn't want to take any chances. By her watch, he had been asleep less than two hours.
"Jack," she began carefully, "I promise you it won't be strong; just something to make you a little drowsy and maybe take the edge off the nausea. Tomorrow is going to be rough and I need you to get some rest." She returned his gaze calmly, infusing as much good will as she could into the few rare moments of direct eye contact with him.
"I'm not used to this you know," he said tiredly. "I can feel myself saying and doing things that are all wrong, but I can't seem to stop myself."
Anna sat waiting for O'Neill to continue his explanation. When nothing was forthcoming, she handed him a pill and steadied his shaking hand on the glass while he chased it with a swallow of water. Then he lay back and pulled the blanket over himself.
"I think I'll sleep out here."
"Goodnight, Colonel."
When she made to leave, he sat up. "You'll be here?"
"Right there," she replied, pointing at the armchair.
"Thanks."
"Anytime, Colonel."
Anna retrieved her laptop and curled herself back into the armchair. Trying to sleep now was out of the question. Her patient had taken a major step tonight. He had confided in her and she needed to document it. She opened the computer and began to type.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Friday, April XX, 1999 / 0300
Prescribed: 150 mg Trazadone / 0310 hours
Colonel X was given a Therapy Journal this evening. This physician observed him writing in it for thirty minutes before he retired for the night. Patient was calm.
I was awakened at 0250 hours when patient was having a nightmare. He cried out for his ex-wife and appeared to be fighting off an attacker. I restrained him until he became alert. Colonel X expressed deep concern about not being able to control his emotional responses. 150 mg Trazadone was administered as a sleep aid.
Notes: The Colonel opened up tonight, expressing his concerns without my prompting. I hope this carries over tomorrow during the first session. I'm guardedly optimistic.
Several times during the next thirty minutes, O'Neill opened his eyes and glanced at her as if to reassure himself that she was still there. She smiled at him and continued typing. Then he closed his eyes and buried his head in the sofa cushion. He finally fell asleep during the lonely pre-dawn hours while Anna maintained her vigil. She closed her computer and checked her watch. There was no point in trying to catch some z's now.
Anna sipped her coffee while watching the sunrise over Jackson Lake. She closed her eyes and wished with all of her might that today went well. She had never had a patient with so complex a problem. How do you counsel someone on narrowly escaping being taken over by an alien parasite?
Lifting the coffee cup again, Anna whispered her morning prayer to the burgeoning light, "Dear Lord, please don't let me fuck this up."
They had been walking for twenty-five minutes before they arrived at the right place. Majestic pines ringed the meadow and the overall effect was both secluded and peaceful. If he had to spill his guts, this was the perfect location to do it.
"Is this the place, Colonel?"
He nodded and shrugged off his backpack. "Last time I was staying at the cabin, I followed some deer tracks up here."
"Where do you want to set up?"
Jack gestured to an area in the center of the meadow that would have the sun for most of the day. He tilted his head back, allowing the early light to warm his face and seep into his pores. He loved this place. It was one of the few places on earth where he felt completely comfortable. Jack glanced over at the doctor. She had spread a blanket over the grass and was sitting on a corner of it, pulling items out of her knapsack. He had the feeling that his comfortable place was about to take on a whole new meaning.
As he started across the meadow, Jack mentally braced himself. All you have to do is talk, Jack.
That was the problem, he admitted to himself. Talking wasn't his forte.
Well you're going to talk up a storm, boy-o, his inner voice chimed in. If the good doctor tells you to sing like a canary, you're going to belt out Danny Boy like fucking Pavarotti, otherwise…
Otherwise he was finished.
Jack's hands were shaking by the time he reached the doctor. His heart was racing and he had broken out in a cold sweat. Shivering a little, he lowered himself onto the blanket, and pulled his knees up to his chest.
"I'm all yours, Doc. Now shrink my head."
Anna almost burst out laughing. Shrink his head? Where did he get this stuff? "Colonel, what exactly do you think we're going to do here?"
"Talk," he said with obvious loathing.
"And that bothers you?"
"I'm not real big on it."
She smiled. "I can see that. It's not that bad. You talk, I listen. When you're done, we discuss it."
"And if I don't want to discuss it?"
"Then we head back to the cabin so I can get back to my life, and you, my dear Colonel," she paused for effect, "get an engraved invitation to the 10th Medical Group's home away from home for uncooperative little boys."
"So what you're saying here is that I have no choice."
"We all have choices. I thought you had made one back at the cabin last night. Was I wrong?"
He didn't answer her. When he looked up, she nodded. "I can help you if you'll let me. Do you trust me, Colonel?"
He nodded again.
"Then trust me now. Lie down and close your eyes."
He stretched out on the blanket.
"What can you smell?"
He looked up. "Smell?"
Anna pushed his head back down. "Yes."
He breathed deep and said, "Grass, pine, sunshine."
"Good. And what did you have for breakfast?"
"Toast and coffee." O'Neill's head popped up again. "Thanks for making it by the way."
She pushed his head down with a little more force this time. "What did you have for dinner last night?"
"The worst roast beef sandwich I've ever had," he said, a small smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
"You feel a little more relaxed now?" she asked him.
"Yeah."
"We're going to begin now. Are you ready?"
"Not really," was the unsteady response.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Let's do it."
"Okay," Anna said, keeping her voice even and low. "Picture the first time you woke up in the fake SGC. Can you see it?"
"Yeah."
"Tell me."
"It's cold. There's a guy standing over me. Trofsky. He's telling me that I've been frozen for more than seventy years. I'm freezing my balls off and this guy is standing over me talking to me. There's someone else, a doctor or something. She's looking in my eyes, but she's not gentle about it. It's kind of weird. It feels wrong, all of it, but the damned drugs they're giving me are screwing me up. I can't concentrate. Something about everyone being dead. Then nothing."
Anna made a note in her book. "What about the second time you woke up?"
"I can think now. They've stopped the drugs and I can see the room. It looks like a sauna. There's a well with a guardrail around it. There's mist coming up from it. Jesus, I was in that! Trofsky's asking questions again. He has me disconnected from the machines and we walk around. It looks like the SGC, but it doesn't. The uniforms are all wrong. Trofsky's talking about colonization or something. Now we're in the Gate room."
Anna looked up when the colonel lapsed into silence. His breathing had grown agitated and his hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides. She placed a hand in his wrist and took note of his pulse while letting him know she was there. "What do you see?"
"The Gate. It's the Stargate. I'm halfway up the ramp when Trofsky calls me back, but …"
"But …?" she prompted softly.
"It's fake. The Gate's a fake. Why didn't I see that? I was staring right at the thing! I could almost reach out and touch it! Shit! Why didn't I see it?" His voice broke and she patted his hand again.
"Okay. It was a fake. What happened next?"
"She puts that damned memory thing on me. Christ! Has no one ever talked to that woman about bedside manner? It feels like a telephone pole going in. I can see a hologram of my thoughts. It's real creepy watching them."
Jack gasped and Anna felt his pulse jump under her hand. "Jack, what is it? What's happening now?"
"It hurts, like a knife behind my eyes. The picture goes fuzzy … then nothing."
"Okay. You're waking up again. What do you see?"
"I can hear them talking, Trofsky and the doctor. Shit! They're Gould! I have to get out of here! I've got my hand on the drug IV thing and I'm pinching it. My head's starting to clear and I can hear them leave. Now there's some joker working on something in the room. I knock him out and take his clothes. White is definitely not my color. I'm in the SGC hallways now. It looks the same but different. There are small changes, like the lights, but everything is basically the same. When I use a card key I found in the pocket. I end up in a corridor that looks just like Apophis' ship… The memory thing is going off. Doesn't the thing have an off switch? I go through another set of doors and I find Carter. I take out the guy in her room and she grabs his clothes. By the way, white is not her color either…"
Anna had jotted down impressions all through Jack's recounting of the mission but whenever he made a sarcastic comment she paused in surprise. She had never had a patient this far gone who had maintained such a keen sense of humor. Colonel O'Neill must be quite a man when he was at one hundred percent. She checked her notes. They were approaching what she suspected was the trigger. Listening on automatic, Anna checked to make sure she had her drug kit within reach. If he became violent, she wanted to be prepared.
"… Daniel's stepping up the ramp to get away from Hathor and we're all standing around waiting. She is such a drama queen. She's pulling a snake out of some guy's gut now and waving it in front of all of us. It wants me. Maybe if I grab it, I can kill the little fuck before ….the fucking doctor zatted me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the open meadow.
Anna drew a slow breath, preparing herself. The next part was going to be difficult for him.
"I'm strapped to the same couch she froze me in. I can't move and she's leaning over me, gloating. She pulls out the memory thing. It feels just as big on the way out. She's telling me I'm going to kill Sam and Daniel. Fat chance. Then she's got her hand in the guy's gut and she whips out the snake again. I can hear it hiss as she puts it on my chest. This can't be happening. Not like this. It's too easy. Someone kill me. Don't let this happen, please, God, get it off me! Sara! I can't move and it's cold! GET IT OUT OF ME!"
Jack rolled onto his knees and began to claw at the back of his neck as his broken voice cried out for help. "It hurts! Sara! Get it out! Carter! Daniel! Kill me, PLEASE, GOD, KILL ME!"
Anna came up on her knees trying to restrain him. He began to draw blood from the skin he scratched open as he tore at his own neck. The first touch of her hands sent him scrambling across the meadow on his hands and knees. Anna jumped to her feet and gave chase. She tackled him, knocking the wind out of both of them. O'Neill recovered almost immediately and broke away from her restraining arms and legs. Crawling after him, Anna grabbed his foot and yanked with all of her might. He landed hard on his stomach and began to convulse, his body bucking and twitching as he screamed in remembered pain.
Anna looked across the meadow to the drug kit lying on the blanket. There was no way she could leave him to get it. Desperate, she flipped him over and threw herself on top of him, frantically calling his name, trying to stop the seizure. Pulling back, she slapped him as hard as she could, grunting as the shock of impact jarred her shoulder and sent pain radiating down to her hand like a flash burn. When he continued to jerk, she hit him again, grabbing his face between her hands, and shouting for him to wake up. She was about to hit him again when he went limp. Suddenly, his eyes stopped rolling back and focused on her briefly before becoming glazed, the pupils dilating.
"Jack, can you hear me?"
He seemed to be listening to her so she climbed off him and pulled him up to a sitting position, speaking to him, using his name over and over.
"Jack, if you can hear me? I need you to look at me, Jack. Can you do that? Can you look at me?" The bloody hands she held were like ice and she began to rub them, trying to bring back some of the warmth to them.
He turned his head towards her and the shaking subsided as she continued to knead his fingers. He looked disoriented and Anna was becoming concerned that he was slipping into shock. She had no choice now.
"Jack, I'm going over there to get the blanket. Will you promise me that you'll stay here?"
He nodded vaguely and Anna ran the sixty or so feet at a dead run. She grabbed her drug kit and a corner of the blanket, sending her notes and provisions flying as she sprinted back to her patient. Throwing the blanket around him, she sat behind him and rubbed his arms briskly.
After a few minutes she became aware of another sound. He was speaking. It was so soft she almost didn't catch it. She pulled him back against her and held him while he relived the rest of it, her heart breaking at the sound of his shattered voice.
"I can't fight it. It's taking over. I can hear it whispering. The doctor grabs my face and tells me she's Tok'Ra. That I should fight it until she can kill it. She's too late. How do I fight it? It's in there wriggling around. I can feel it taking control. It's no contest. I haven't got a prayer against it and then the cover of the cryo bed closes and I'm freezing. It's pissed at me. I can hear it scream as it dies."
Anna felt his shoulders shake as his tremors returned.
"Why couldn't it take me with it? Why am I so fucking cold?"
Anna lost track of how long she sat on the grass in that high meadow with her arms around her patient. Her arms went numb and still she sat there, rubbing his arms and telling him he was safe now. She whispered that he was warm now and the alien was gone. That he wasn't alone.
The doctor had never considered herself a violent person, but if the Goa'uld had been within arms reach, she could have gladly strangled it. Better yet, Colonel O'Neill could have done it and been spared this torture of a cure. Nobody should be put through what he had endured. As a psychiatrist, Anna knew the dangers of becoming emotionally attached to her patients, but for a few glorious moments, she entertained the fantasy of choking the life out of the bitch who had dared to harm a hair on this courageous man's head.
The sun was considerably lower when she felt him pull away from her.
"Thanks. I'm okay now," he said quietly.
She released him and rolled into a more comfortable position, wanting him to make the first move. His back was to her and she wanted desperately to see his face, but she waited, hoping that what he said was the truth. When he turned, Anna studied his profile, looking for any sign of the wild man who had fled in panic across the meadow. The scared animal was gone, replaced with a very tired colonel. His face reflected unbearable weariness tinged with a small amount of relief, and she offered a small prayer of thanks that the session hadn't been a complete failure.
"Colonel, are you ready to head back or do you need some more time?"
He looked at her and she had her answer. Anna got to her feet and placed her hand on his back. For the first time, he didn't jump. "I'll be packing up until you're ready. I need to look at your neck too so don't be too long. Okay?"
O'Neill nodded and she headed across the field, leaving him to the sunshine and his thoughts.
Jack watched the doctor trudge away, limping slightly and stretching her arm as she walked. If he survived this therapy, he was going to owe her the best Italian dinner he could buy to make up for the injuries he had inflicted. He shivered under the blanket and pulled it tighter across his chest, trying to trap his body heat within its folds. He would give anything to feel warm again.
Across the meadow, Anna watched the Colonel as he sat. His face was tilted up and he appeared to be warming himself in the afternoon light. Content that he wasn't going to run off, she pulled her laptop to her and began to type.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Friday, April XX, 1999 / 2300
Prescribed: N/A
Patient was encouraged to find a place, outdoors where he felt comfortable. Upon arrival in a green meadow, patient was asked to lie down and asked a series of questions designed to put him at ease. Approximately 1400, Flooding session commenced.
Colonel X recounted, after prompting, a series of awakenings where he was subjected to questioning in an alien compound. He was led to believe he had been cryogenically suspended for over seventy years. Patient appeared to accept the subterfuge with little stress. It should be noted, patient WAS actually suspended for a period of time, perhaps three weeks.
When Colonel X spoke of the implanting of the parasite, he became agitated, attempting to remove said parasite and damaging the scar tissue at the base of his neck where the alien had penetrated his body. This physician attempted to ground the patient by touch. Colonel X demonstrated a Hyperaroused response and attempted to evade restraint.
Patient was restrained by physician and began to convulse as the memory of the painful intrusion manifested itself as a self-hypnotic induced seizure. Patient was wrapped in a blanket and treated for shock. After an hour, Colonel X demonstrated lucidity and was able to communicate his condition.
Session concluded at 1610.
Notes: The Colonel was very verbose during his session. I was pleasantly surprised when he was so graphic with the description of his ordeal. I was concerned that he would withhold information, making his treatment more difficult.
I left him alone for several minutes to collect himself. He appeared to respond well to the Flooding and I am hopeful that he will continue to respond to future treatment.
Anna felt a presence behind her and snapped cover of the laptop down. O'Neill was standing behind her, trying to read over her shoulder.
"Colonel. Are you ready to leave?"
"Yeah."
"Just sit down for a moment and let me look at your neck."
As she pushed his collar aside, Anna gasped. The Colonel had done some damage to the scar tissue and the skin was ragged where his nails had torn the wound open.
"How bad is it?"
"Not too bad," Anna lied. "It just took me by surprise. Hold still while I clean it out. Do I need to tell you it's going to sting?"
He snorted and she was glad to see his sense of humor returning. She placed a three by three over the cleaned wound and taped it down.
"That should do it, Colonel. How does it feel?"
"Like I just tore the shit out of my neck. Did I make it worse?"
She placed the supplies back in the kit. "You're going to have a pretty zig zag pattern running through it. Personally, I think it will improve its appearance," she said, smiling. "Let's go."
Side by side, they packed up their various odds and ends, working in companionable silence. When they were finished, Anna gave the area a once over, making sure they left nothing behind.
"It's weird," O'Neill said.
"What is?"
"Nothing touches this place. We pick up our stuff and it's like we were never here."
Anna patted his arm. "I like to think of nature as the one constant in the universe. We can play in it, enjoy it, even corrupt it, but no matter what we do to it, Mother Nature always reasserts her control. The ultimate Alpha bitch."
She chuckled as he motioned her towards the path.
Jack's Journal
We got back a few minutes ago and the doc has gone into the kitchen to make us something to eat. Judging by what she's been producing, I may not survive dinner. I'm hungry for the moment and I'd like to eat before something ruins it.
When we first started walking back, she stayed next to me, never letting me get more than an arms length away. As we got closer, she let me go on ahead. I'm not sure what to make of this. Sometimes I almost feel like I used to, and there are times, like yesterday, when I could punch anything that comes within three feet. That bitch really screwed me up. I just keep telling myself she's dead, as if it makes everything okay. Like I didn't feel that damn snake in my head. Didn't hear it talking to me. Didn't feel its control. I think about it all the time. What if the Tok'Ra hadn't been there? What if I had become a Gould? It would have killed Sam and Daniel. I wouldn't have been able to stop the snake. I can still see the nightmare. Will this ever end?
They sat down for a dinner of canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Jack tried not to notice that they were burnt on one side, but when the doctor threw the sandwich down in disgust, he had to smile.
"Not much in the cooking department, are you, Doc?"
He heard her mumble something about letting him starve and she stalked off to the kitchen, plate in hand. Jack took another bite of the sandwich and grinned. He'd had worse.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Saturday, April XX, 1999 / 2030
Prescribed: 25 mg Gravol / 1715
Second Flooding Session was held indoors due to rainy weather.
Colonel X was asked to stretch out on the couch. He was then taken through a series of questions to put him at ease. The session began at the point right before the implantation. Patient became agitated immediately, recounting the assertion of the alien holding him hostage that he would kill his friends. Colonel X has visualized killing his teammates on many occasions. This appears to be a significant contributor to his depression. The memory of the lack of control over his body triggering the flashbacks experienced so far.
The patient was calmed and regressed back to the moment after the implantation. Colonel X became agitated again as he described the sensation of being in the cryogenic suspension chamber. The experience seems to remind him of his internment in Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq during the Persian Gulf War. Colonel X assumed a fetal position during this part of the session.
Session concluded at 1215.
Notes: This session was our best one yet. The Colonel was responsive to suggestion and easier to calm after the first episode of agitation. I plan on covering relaxation techniques today after the next session.
Third Flooding Session Commenced at 1330
Colonel X was asked to recount the entire ordeal in as much detail as possible. After covering the same mission details as reported earlier. At the point in the flooding where he had previously become very disturbed and violent (implantation), patient now demonstrated more control. Demeanor was anxious but non-violent.
Patient became distressed after speaking of the cryogenic suspension chamber, assuming a fetal position and resisting any attempt to comfort him. When asked a direct question, Colonel X began to recite his name, rank and serial number. It is this doctor's opinion that he believed he was still in Iraq.
Patient demonstrated lucidity at 1715. Retching followed. Administered 25 mg Gravol for nausea.
Notes: The Colonel was doing fine until we regressed to the point of entering the cryo chamber. Something about the confinement is triggering his flashbacks to being a POW in Iraq. I hope to address this tomorrow during our first session.
Anna jerked awake. Her eyes searched frantically, looking for what had disturbed her. She tilted her head, hearing only crickets and the water of the lake hitting the dock. Swinging her legs off the bed, she scanned the moonlit darkness of her room, locating her pack under the window. The mace inside was useless in its current location.
Wait! There was a noise. What was it? An animal? All of Anna's internal alarms were screaming warnings at her. The sound came again; so faint she almost missed it. Silently, she padded over to the open shutters and peered out, trying to identify the direction and source of the disturbance. The breeze teased the tops of the trees, casting grotesque shadows onto the landscape, like threatening claws. The curtains whispered against the pane as she slipped the mace from its side pocket and crept across the room to the door. Surely O'Neill heard it too, after all, the guy was former Special Forces.
Anna made her way to the couch, and leaned over to see if the colonel had slept on it, as was his habit. Empty. The shadows hid her form as she pushed his bedroom door open. The noise came again, but this time, Anna had no trouble identifying it. She tossed the mace onto the bed and walked to the far side of the room. O'Neill was a gray shadow on the floor in the dark recess between the bed and wall.
Crouching next to his curled up form, Anna leaned closer, trying to make out the words behind the whimpers.
"No, not again. Nothing … I don't know anything … please … I don't know … anything … stop … no … don't "
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the images his soft keening resurrected. Room after room of injured, broken soldiers. Eyes of every color and shape, looking to her for answers. For absolution. Always the same thing. The guilt and shame driving them to despair. Their tortured faces cried out for comfort and rejected it in the same breath, believing they were undeserving of the smallest human comfort. She shook her head to clear the memory.
Pulling the quilt off the bed, Anna wrapped it around her current broken soldier. He pulled it closer as he curled into an even smaller ball. She placed her hand on his back and squeezed. Flashbacks were horrible to watch. What must they be like to experience? She lowered herself to a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, suddenly weary of the entire cycle.
Jack's Journal
I woke up on the floor tonight. I must have flashed back again, but I don't remember dreaming about it. Whatever the doc gave me must have worked, because I'm really hungry. After I finish writing this stuff down, I'm going to raid the refrigerator. Maybe I can find something the doc hasn't touched yet. I must be getting better, I'm cracking myself up.
I missed the sky tonight. I can always relax when I have something else to focus on. I don't want to think about what I've been saying in these sessions. Taking pills might be easier than ripping my guts out twice a day. I get confused now. There are things running into each other. First, I'm in that damned cryogenic thing, then I'm in my cell in Iraq. There was a point when I could have sworn I was on the floor of my closet in the house where Sara and I used to live.
I don't think I'm hungry anymore. I'll try to sleep.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Sunday, April XX, 1999 / 2100
Prescribed: N/A
Fourth Flooding Session commenced at 0930 in the meadow.
Patient and Physician covered relaxation techniques prior to beginning.
Colonel X can now anticipate the questions, regressing himself without prompting.
The patient was asked to recall his imprisonment in Iraq. He spoke of beatings and interrogation/torture sessions consistent with our intelligence regarding the internment of Gulf War veterans. After food and water had been withheld for many days, patient stated that he began to hallucinate, imagining he was dead and in hell. When his jailers returned for him, he remembered being dragged into another part of the prison and placed in a small, four by four by four box where he was fed and given water regularly. He remained in the box until his release, some five weeks later. The patient remained in a fetal position during this entire portion of the session.
Colonel X became verbally abusive when asked about his homecoming. His language and demeanor became belligerent and he refused to cooperate any longer. Patient left the meadow not returning to the cabin until six hours later. When asked about his whereabouts, Colonel X ignored this doctor and locked himself in his room.
Session concluded at 1130
Notes: The Colonel's torture at the hands of the Iraqis is pretty gruesome stuff. I had his file open while he relived, it and I still had a hard time holding down my breakfast. When we came to the point where I asked him about his ex-wife, the colonel refused to speak about it anymore, hurling sarcastic comments at me and leaving the meadow.
We're going to have to cover this again tomorrow. I hope he cooperates, but I'm preparing for a battle.
Jack's Journal
She asked me about Sara. Who the hell does she think she is? Sara is none of her business. This is about what happened in Hathor's compound. Not what happened in Iraq, and not what happened when I got home. I can't go through that again. It's none of her business! My personal life is my own affair, and if she thinks I'm going to let her pick apart my life, she can shove it! So far, I've been pretty nice about this entire "Flooding" thing, but my personal life is way off limits!
Janet Fraiser looked up from the fax she was studying, when Sam threw herself into the guest chair.
"Something I can do for you, Captain?" she asked distractedly.
"I'm just at a loss as to what to do with myself, Janet. I mean, with the colonel gone and SG-1 on stand down ….." She didn't continue. "What are you working on?"
Janet slid the fax into a folder, and deliberately placed it in her desk drawer. "It's a progress report on a patient I've been following."
"The colonel?"
"If it was," the doctor stared at Sam, her face an inscrutable mask. "I couldn't tell you. You know that."
"Is he okay?"
She shook her head. "I can't discuss it, Sam."
"Doctor Fraiser?" A nurse called from the examination area. "SG-3 is coming in with injuries."
Janet jumped up and ran to the door. "Look, let me worry about the colonel," she said over her shoulder. "You just try and keep busy." With that said, Janet ran out into the infirmary.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Monday, April XX, 1999 / 2000
Prescribed: N/A
Fifth Flooding Session commenced at 1000 indoors.
Patient and Physician covered relaxation techniques prior to beginning.
Colonel X was asked to speak of his internment in Iraq again. At the point where patient had previously assumed a fetal position, he now remained calm if anxious. When speaking of his captors, patient became detached, voicing his anger in a monotone.
Colonel X recounted his experience of the recovery unit in West Germany. Fear of mental illness was probably cemented at the time the patient was there.
Session concluded at 1315
Notes: Colonel X is still resistant to speaking of his family. We will tackle this issue later in the next session. I've given him the rest of the day off to go fishing. It's my hope that he evaluates his condition and decides to cooperate.
Jack's Journal
Finally free for a few hours. I've taken a boat onto the lake and I'm sitting here writing instead of fishing. What's wrong with this picture? We talked about the hospital today. I described the noises at night on the ward and it brought it all back to me. The screaming, the moaning and even worse, the crying. I even told her about Markison, the kid in the next bunk. How he was taken away after refusing to eat. She just said she understood and kept asking me more questions. How the hell could she understand? She wasn't there. Was she?
Everything's all mixed up now. Instead of the Gould, I hear Achmed, whispering in my dreams. He's always telling me the same thing. That he's going to kill me. Same old story. I heard that so often I wanted to break the damn record. I never told Sara about Achmed. I was afraid to say his name in my home, like that act alone would bring his stinking presence into the only thing that has ever been clean in my life. Somehow, writing it here doesn't have the same impact. Interesting. Maybe I should tell the doc about Sara. Hell, maybe I should just fish.
Anna made another note as the colonel related the sad circumstances of his first night in the stateside hospital. His voice, which had been low and controlled through the beginning of the session, was becoming hoarse as emotions threatened to overtake him.
"Sara sat next to the bed and cried. I knew right then and there, she couldn't handle the truth. It was too hard to listen to her so I just tuned her out."
"What did you think about while you tuned her out?" Anna prompted gently.
"I didn't. I lay there counting ceiling tiles. I played chess in my head, I counted sheep. Anything to stop her damned noise," his voice broke. "She wouldn't shut up."
"Were you ever able to tell her what your internment was like?"
The colonel shivered in the fire-warmed room. "No. What good would it have done?" His hands clenched into fists. "She couldn't have changed anything. It was bad enough while she knew nothing. She didn't need any more worries."
Anna sat back and rested her neck against the back of the chair. He was deluding himself. Worse, he was trying to delude his doctor. He was so deeply in denial, she was sure he had no concept of what his wife had suffered at his bedside. His pride had kept them from speaking, and the stoic silence must have cut Sara into small pieces. Anna closed her eyes and spoke slowly. "Colonel, I want to try an exercise with you. I'd like you to put yourself in your wife's position and tell me what she was thinking."
"Are you kidding? What the hell kind of session is this?" he demanded.
"Just humor me. What did Sara see as she sat at your bedside? What was she feeling?" Anna heard him take a deep breath as he prepared to delve into the unpleasant past.
"I guess I looked a little rough."
"Tell me."
"I had bruises … well … everywhere. They were healing, but they still looked ripe. You know?"
Anna winced. She knew. She had seen his file.
"I was pretty thin and dehydrated. I must have looked skeletal."
"So what was Sara feeling?"
"She was upset! She thought I was KIA, then I just show up, alive!"
The doctor sat up. O'Neill was so close to where she needed him to be. "So she was crying because you were alive? Because she was so happy?" When Jack didn't respond, she tried again. "Why was Sara crying, Colonel?" She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips. "Why?" she demanded.
"She was scared!" The colonel sat up and threw her hand off him, his eyes wild and moist as he searched the room. As if he could see the scene played out before him and, was horrified at the specter. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, confused, "She was frightened."
Anna moved to the couch, and sat beside him, letting him lean against her as he instinctively sought her now familiar presence. The hand that grasped hers was trembling. "Why was she frightened?"
"That's something you're going to have to figure out, Jack."
"Well, that's helpful."
She got up quietly, squeezing once before letting his hand slip from hers. "I wasn't there, Jack. You're going to have to figure that one out on your own." She gathered up his notes as he continued to stare, unfocussed and introspective. Anna moved to the front door and paused in the doorway. "This is our stopping point today, Colonel. I'll be on the dock if you need me." When he didn't respond, she slipped outside and closed the door, leaving her patient alone to think.
Jack's Journal
I've been sitting out here in this boat for the last two hours, staring at the water. The doc's question keeps going through my head. Why was Sara crying? I keep seeing her the way she looked when I stepped off the plane. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. All blue eyes and long tanned legs. When we reached each other, I buried my face in her neck, breathing her in. Her scent was unbelievable. It was that clean smell which had kept me going while I lay on the filthy floor of my cell. That perfume of soap and vanilla, mixed with the earth she loved to plant her flowers in and the musk that was uniquely, Sara. What did I smell like? Did I reek of failure? Of fear? While she sat at my bedside, I resolved not to spoil her happiness. It didn't work. She talked and I ignored her. She pleaded, cried, and I ignored her. But she knew. She must have. Looking back, it's like I was blind or something. How could I not have seen that she was aware of what happened to me. There must have been people filling her in. I'm sorry, Sara. I locked you out and you had to agonize alone. I should have listened to you. Told you. I'm going to talk to Giaf about this. I won't do this again, to the people I care about.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Tuesday, April XX, 1999 / 2325
Prescribed: N/A
Sixth and Seventh Flooding Sessions commenced at 0915 indoors.
Patient and Physician covered relaxation techniques prior to beginning.
Session Six - 0915
Colonel X spoke in length about his homecoming after the Gulf War. His inability to relate the circumstances of his detainment in Iraq was a serious wedge in his relationship with his ex-wife and the patient felt that his silence was a contributing factor in the dissolution of his marriage. Colonel X experienced flashbacks as often as four times a week during the first two months he was home. During these episodes, he would remove himself to a bedroom closet, and recreate the atmosphere of his box like cell.
Session Concluded at 1130
Session Seven - 1330
Colonel X mentioned his son for the first time. He employed the practiced relaxation techniques without prompting and recounted the accidental death of his son. Patient feels responsible for his son's demise, and in this doctor's opinion, will probably never come to terms with this tragedy.
Session concluded at 1315
Notes: He has stopped physically reliving the events and I am very relieved that he can speak of his cell without curling into a fetal position. His issues with his jailers are another story. He hasn't forgiven them and won't make his peace with them. I'm not sure I would want to either.
My heart broke every time he mentioned his son. His guilt over leaving the handgun in the house is a wall we can't get past. I would recommend he remain in counseling for this one issue alone.
Anna lay on the lounge, gazing at the stars, which filled the night sky. Beside her, the colonel sat at his telescope, occasionally pointing out sights he thought might interest her. The night sounds of the forest were a constant hum and Anna was having a hard time hearing him every time he whispered an instruction to look.
"That star group there is special."
She followed his finger to a cluster at three o'clock to the Little Dipper. "What's special about it?"
"That's where Abydos is."
"Do you miss it?"
"Abydos? Yeah. They're good people."
"Do they let you go back and visit the planets you've already been to?" she asked when her curiosity got the better of her.
His smile was a ghost that vanished as quickly as it appeared, making Anna wonder if it had ever really been there.
"They sort of frown on using the gate for personal reasons. Something about budget limitations."
The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, both of them unwilling to disturb the peaceful camaraderie of the moment. A half hour later, Jack finally sat back from his telescope and turned to Anna.
"Are we leaving tomorrow?"
"Yes. I plan to get out of here late tomorrow afternoon." She smiled. "I'll have you back home in time for the Tonight Show. " She waited patiently for the next inevitable question.
"So … am I going home?"
Anna sat up and swung her legs off the lounge. Facing Jack, she chose her words carefully. "You haven't had an uninterrupted nights sleep in over a month." He lowered his head dejectedly and she reached over touching his knee gently. She was pleased to see his hyperarousal responses had vanished. The jumpiness was hard on the nerves. "Lets see how you do over the next week or so. I'll feel more comfortable with you going home after your normal sleep patterns have reasserted themselves."
Still looking down, he nodded slowly. "Thanks."
She patted him on the shoulder and went into the cabin leaving him standing in the cool night.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Monday, April XX, 1999 / 1300
Prescribed: N/A
Eighth Flooding Session commenced at 0830
Colonel X regressed to his detainment in Iraq. After ten minutes, he began to speak of his interrogator. The patient displayed signs of anger, clenching his fists and baring his teeth. The colonel then spoke of his homecoming, speaking in a detached voice. Manifestations of hyperarousal and anxiety were minimal.
Colonel X has progressed to the point where he now calms himself. The exception to this observation were his reactions to this doctor's suggestion that his guilt regarding the death of his son is misplaced. At this time, it is recommended that the patient not be regressed regarding this issue.
Session concluded at 1000
Notes: We have made real progress! He slept through the night last night. His responses to touch have fallen within normal parameters and he now volunteers information without prompting. I am hopeful that he may be returned to active duty in two of three weeks, provided his progress continues along these lines.
Jack's Journal
We're leaving the cabin in a few minutes. I'm not sure I want to return to Cheyenne Mountain j
ust yet. I feel rested for the first time in weeks. I actually overslept this morning. The doc says I shouldn't get too excited about one night of complete rest, because I might become depressed if I don't do it again. Personally, I think she's full of crap. The nightmares must be over. They have to be.
The drive back to Cheyenne Mountain Complex was a very different trip than the one to the cabin. For one thing, I'm driving, thought Jack. The doc looked decidedly green as he took the curves at close to forty-five miles per hour. Well, fifty-five is close to forty-five. "You know, Doc, I felt the same way, when you were behind the wheel." He looked over at the tense woman beside him.
"Shut up and keep your eyes on the road, would you?"
Jack peered out at the blacktop disappearing beneath their wheels. To do it justice, it was a beautiful highway, lined with majestic pines and breathtaking views of the Rockies. Every now and then, they would pass an old WPA monument, a restaurant, or a scenic overlook. "Would you like me to pull over at the next scenic view? We could stop and get something to eat."
She cast him a nasty look and Jack winced. "Look, just drive. Don't think about anything but keeping both hands on the wheel. Anyway, we don't have to stop. I packed sandwiches."
"Like I said, we could stop and get something to eat." He laughed at her expression.
Jack saw a restaurant up ahead, on the right. He slowed, and pulled into the parking lot, still managing to spray more dirt than was advisable. "Come on, Doc. Lunchtime."
"Anything to get out of this car," she muttered as she hopped out, waving her hand and coughing as she was assaulted by the unsettled dust. Without a backwards glance, she made her way across the gravel parking lot.
He chuckled as he followed her into the restaurant. The diner was decorated in early American cowboy tourist, complete with rough-hewn booths, lassos, and various animal trophies adorning the walls. When Jack slid into the seat across from Giaf, he saw her shudder and close the menu. He looked over his shoulder. A bull's head had been mounted high on the wall, across from her seat. He shrugged. There were some benefits to being at the top of the food chain.
"I never figured you for the 'delicate digestion' type, Doc."
She grimaced. "Yeah, well I never figured I'd be driven around by a guy who drives like Mario Andretti, and eating a meal in full view of Toro there."
"I'd switch seats with you, but the view from here is just as bad," he said as he examined the eight point buck mounted above her head. "Must have been a hell of a shot though. Beautiful rack."
"Are you folks ready to order?"
The doctor buried her face in her hands.
Jack smiled at the waitress. "I'll have a cheeseburger, fries and a coke, Darlene," he said, reading the name on her uniform. "And please bring my friend the same."
"Sure thing, honey. If there's anything else you need, you just call out, Darly, and you won't have too long to wait." Then she was gone in a swish of hips and too much perfume.
"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Jack."
He grinned and they sat there in silence, listening to Faith Hill, as they stared out the window at the traffic passing by. When the food arrived, Jack began to eat like he hadn't eaten in a month. In contrast, he noticed, Giaf pushed the impressive burger to the side and picked at her French fries. She stared desolately at his plate. His double order of fries, compliments of the buxom Darly, disappeared at an alarming speed.
"You know, Colonel, the way you're eating is kind of insulting."
"What?"
"Like you haven't seen a meal all week."
Jack smiled. "Not at all. Are you going to eat that?"
She pushed the plate across the table, and watched in disgust as he smothered the potatoes with ketchup.
"Okay, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Have you given any thought to what it's going to be like back at the SGC? I mean, you've been like a different person today. Confident, cocky even and I'm getting a funny feeling, Colonel. We talked about euphoric moments in our sessions. Have you considered that this might be one of them?"
Jack paused. The doc seemed uncomfortable for the first time all week. The lines of strain around her eyes and the tightness of her mouth betrayed her usually calm demeanor. It was unnerving and he pushed her plate away as his appetite suddenly fled. "What's wrong with feeling good after finally sleeping through the night?"
"You're going to have to make some adjustments when you get back to Cheyenne Mountain. I just want to make sure you understand that," she said directly. "Your team has been traumatized by your recent illness and they're going to need time to adjust. Particularly Daniel. He took your leaving rather hard. In fact, he mentioned to me, just prior to our departure, that he thought you were suicidal. How do you feel about that?"
Jack was flabbergasted. Daniel thought he was going to kill himself? What kind of shit ran through the guy's head? "Did you tell Daniel he was wrong?"
"No, Jack, I didn't. I couldn't be sure. I told him you would be safe with me. Frankly, he didn't look reassured."
"So, what you're saying is, I can expect to be treated like a nut case when I get back?" Her expression said it all. "Damn! I wonder how many people he told."
Giaf's voice was carefully neutral. "I doubt he told anyone other than Captain Carter and Teal'c. He wouldn't do anything to embarrass you." She snagged a fry, sans ketchup. "He didn't strike me as someone who gossiped. It was more of a case of, 'I'm worried about Jack'."
"What about Sam? You think I'm going to have a problem with her?"
"In what regards? Are you asking me if I think Captain Carter will trust your command again?"
Jack nodded miserably.
"I won't lie to you, Colonel. You have some fences to mend. You'll have to prove you're capable of performing up to your former standards. Your team will be delicate for a few weeks as they adjust to your return. They'll be careful of stressing you, afraid they might trigger another psychotic episode. You'll have to do a lot of explaining. When you're done, you may not like the dynamic of the team any longer. Either way, your shelving days are over. You can't survive that way any more. You have to reconfigure your coping skills and come up with a new plan."
"I'm not ready yet, am I?" He lowered his eyes to the table.
"It's only been six days. Ask me again in a week's time," Giaf said kindly. "You're one hell of an officer, Colonel. It's just a matter of convincing yourself."
"And you?" Jack asked.
"Aw hell, Jack. I already knew it. Come on, let's get out of here before Darly decides to marry you. By the way, you just bought lunch."
Jack felt the mood lighten slightly as she grabbed her bag. He caught up with her at the door, holding it for her as they stepped into the early afternoon sunshine. When she made for the driver's side, he steered her around to the passenger side of the car.
"Sorry, Doc," he said with a small smile. "Not a chance in hell I'm letting you drive back."
"You're a pain in the ass, Colonel."
"Guilty. Now shut up and get in."
Jack's Journal
Doc let me drive back to the Complex. I don't remember much of the ride up to the cabin, but I do know that I was grateful she didn't do the driving home. When we got to Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c were waiting for us at the main sentry post. I must have been in sorry shape to make them look like that. The minute we passed through security, Sam and Daniel surrounded me, but wouldn't touch me. I grabbed Daniel's arm and he smiled like I haven't seen in a long time. Then I found myself hugging Sam. Talk about an over reaction. Teal'c just stood there staring at me. I finally got over to him and he asked me if I was well. I slapped him on the back and turned around to look for the doc. She was gone. She must be sick of my company. When I turned back to Teal'c, I was surprised to that I was nervous. Have I really become that dependant on Giaf? How was I supposed to answer all those questions I was reading in their eyes?
There were two weary travelers who greeted the impatient members of SG-1. The drive had been long and Jack was glad the trip was behind them. The final hour had passed in silence when the doc had fallen asleep, leaning against the window. When the doctor struggled with her duffle bag, Jack relieved her of the burden and carried it for her as they trudged to the MP's at the sentry post.
"Come on, Colonel. Your children await."
Jack could see his team as they stood on the other side of the fence. They all looked like they could use a good night's sleep. Even Teal'c looked a little worse for wear. He dumped the bags on the counter and stepped around the soldier to come face to face with Daniel.
"Hi, Jack."
"Daniel," he said amiably. "How's the leg?"
Jack could see the wince that accompanied the automatic response. "Better. How was the drive?"
Twenty minutes later SG-1 had commandeered a table in the commissary and was eating what could only be described as chicken cacciatore a la Air Force. As far as Jack was concerned, calling it chicken was being kinder than he had to be, not to mention an insult to chickens. Still, he mused, it could be worse. Giaf could have made it. He sat back and listened to the sounds of his team banter back and forth. It touched a familiar spot in his hearing and he sat back letting it wrap around him and warm his soul.
"So, Colonel, how bad was Dr. Giaf's cooking?"
"It wasn't that bad," he said graciously. "Mostly sandwiches and stuff. It was only when she tried to turn on the stove that we had to improvise." Unconsciously, he looked to his right, expecting to see Giaf sitting beside him. The chair was empty and he felt her absence in the pit of his stomach. She had left him with his team at the gate, pausing only long enough to yell at the MP's for tearing apart her careful packing job. To Jack, it was like being abandoned by his mother on the first day of school. The sense that something was missing: her warm hand on his shoulder, her reassuring presence as his security blanket.
"I'm sorry, Teal'c. What did you say?" The table was silent as they all stared at him in alarm. "What?" he asked.
"I asked if it was a painful process, O'Neill. Colonel Makepeace explained that you were having your head shrunk and that we should not expect to see you for quite some time."
Jack couldn't help it. He laughed until his eyes watered and his ribs hurt. When he thought the spell had passed, he made the mistake of looking up at the alarmed faces of his team. He immediately went off in another paroxysm of laughter.
"Jack!" said Daniel quietly. "Should we call Dr. Giaf?"
That sobered him instantly. He looked at his team in disbelief. "Oh, please! You have to admit, that was funny!"
"I was not endeavoring to be funny, O'Neill. I merely wished to confirm that you were not in pain," said Teal'c, sounding offended as only the Jaffa could.
"She didn't shrink my head, Teal'c. We talked." He could see the disbelief now reflected on Daniel's face.
"You talked?"
"Yeah. I talked a lot. I also got some fishing in. Did some stargazing."
"So this head shrinking was Colonel Makepeace's attempt at humor?"
"Yes, Teal'c," they all answered in unison.
"I see."
This time, Sam and Daniel joined him in his laughter as Teal'c looked on, a puzzled frown marring his mahogany face.
Jack's Journal
That first few minutes back at the base was damned awkward. We talked like strangers until Daniel finally took matters into his own hands and grabbed my arm, pulling me down to the commissary where we all caught up with each other. Sam and Teal'c seem to have established a closer friendship in my absence, not that it bothers me. Teal'c finally came out and asked what having my head "shrunk" was like. I have Makepeace to thank for that one. Note to self: Hit Colonel Robert Makepeace repeatedly. Danny looks a little worse for wear. Apparently, my little walk on the dark side has shaken up SG-1. That's another problem I hadn't considered. These guys need me to be strong. Seeing me crack up has taken its toll. I'm going to have to work twice as hard to get their confidence back.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Tuesday, May XX, 1999 / 1400
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X no longer requires daily sessions, and it is recommended that he be returned to restricted duty for an evaluation period of two weeks with therapy sessions twice a week. It is also recommended that the patient be allowed to return to his home in the evenings.
Notes: After our eighteenth and final flooding session, I am convinced the colonel is ready for a more standard method of treatment. I plan to tell him during our next appointment. I'm worried about his reaction to being told he needs a therapist now. He didn't like me leaving him with his friends when we first returned to the CM Complex. I can just imagine how happy he's going to be about this.
Jack's Journal
Home at last! The place looks like a hurricane hit it. I never realized how much of a slob I was until I came home to this mess. I have to admit I was concerned about being alone in the house, okay, being alone anywhere, for the first time in weeks. At least cleaning this pigsty will keep me busy for a few hours. The doc plans to call me several times over the course of the weekend. I feel like I'm on probation. No pressure, right?
Jack's Journal
There's nothing like babysitting unless you happen to be the sittee. Danny just called for the fifth time. That makes a total of twenty-three calls I've had in the last twenty-four hours. Sam called four times, Hammond called twice, and Dr. Fraiser called three times. She even had Cassie call once. Feretti, Makepeace, and Kovachek all called once. Hell, even Teal'c called twice. Doc Giaf called three times, but those were pre-arranged. She was annoyed because she kept getting a busy signal. Finally, she beeped me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the damned thing went off. I couldn't remember where I put it. We laughed about the phone calls and she suggested that I let my answering machine answer the phone and just get on with my day. I have a better idea. I'm going to change my greeting and hope they all get the message. The doc says I'm being a smart-ass… well if the shoe fits.
Janet knocked on the door and walked into the visitor's quarters. Anna sat at the table, laughing so hard there were tears in the corners of her eyes.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Oh, Jan …you have to hear this… it's a scream … this guy kills me!" She hit redial and went off in another fit of laughing.
Janet walked over and took the proffered phone. Placing her ear to the receiver, she covered the other ear with a hand to screen out Anna's laughter.
"You have reached 555-1212, if this is your first phone call to this number in the last twenty-four hours, please leave a message after the beep, all others, please dial 1-800 G-E-T-A L-I-F-E Thanks…." *Bee-eep*
Janet began to laugh. Colonel Smart Ass was back!
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Monday, May XX, 1999 / 2030
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X is recommended for return to active duty.
Notes: The nightmares haven't put in an appearance in over three weeks. I had the pleasure of telling the colonel he is being returned to active duty. He actually hugged me. It was like being mauled by a bear! Maybe I can be home for Memorial Day.
Jack's Journal
I'm back on active duty. Let me write that again. I'M BACK ON ACTIVE DUTY. I was so happy I actually picked up the doc and hugged her. She didn't like that much. Too bad. I'm back! I can go back to work! I can hardly sit still long enough to write in this damned book. When she gave this thing to me, she didn't tell me it was going to be addictive.
I have an appointment with Hammond in about an hour. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself for an hour? I've become so good at paperwork, I don't have any left to do. I could always go to the gym but I'm in too good a mood to risk running into Makepeace and his flock of jarheads.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Friday, May XX, 1999 / 1800
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X has been on active duty for two weeks with no recurring nightmares or flashbacks in relation to his treatment for PTSD. The patient has been practicing relaxation techniques and reports good progress in reduction of stress levels.
Notes: The colonel came to me complaining that he'd had a nightmare. When I asked him to recount it, he explained that he dreamed he was being chased through the woods by a vampire. After much probing I was able to determine that he had discussed an Anne Rice book with a friend the day before the nightmare. I told him it was normal, and he could expect a bad nightmare from time to time.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Tuesday, May XX, 1999 / 2115
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X appeared distracted during our last session. When this doctor inquired as to the reason, it was explained he was shipping out for an indeterminate period of time and that he had his mind on his mission. It is recommended that the patient report for psychiatric evaluation within twenty-four hours of his return to base.
Notes: The colonel was in combat mode when he met with me. I have to admit, he's pretty frightening when he makes the transformation. The entire session was a waste of time and I've made a note to myself not to meet with him right before a mission. He introduced me to a fellow named Jacob Carter a little while ago. He is Captain Carter's father, but I seem to remember his name from somewhere else. I guess that's my mystery to solve during the wait for my patients return.
Anna waited patiently as Colonel O'Neill helped himself to coffee and sat down in his usual seat. He looked tired and the lines around his eyes and mouth stood out in sharp relief. She waited until he began the conversation. It had developed into their little tradition and seemed to put him at ease. She didn't have long to wait.
"Hey, Doc." He sat back, the cup balanced between his hands, closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. After a moment, he turned his attention to her. "Would you mind if we had a short session today? I'm beat and I have about ten miles of paperwork to get through before I go home."
"Was it a tough mission, Colonel?"
"No worse than usual," he said enigmatically.
Anna considered letting him get away with the vague answer and decided against it. Their last session had been cut short due to the colonel's preoccupation. This time, they had issues they needed to cover. "What's the usual for you?" The look Jack gave her was annoyed and she was suddenly glad she had broached the subject.
"We went in. They tried to kill us. We came home. Oh!" The eyebrows went up. "I got a really cool jacket."
"They tried to kill you? And you consider this the norm?" Anna looked at him in shock. No one was this laissez-faire about nearly getting killed. "What happened?"
"Well, this Gould named Seth set up a cult outside Seattle and we went to shut him down."
"And?"
"We succeeded."
"That's it?" Anna asked. "What else happened?"
"Well, I got to play with the ATF and like I said, they had these really cool jackets so …"
Anna's patience was running out. His sarcasm was inappropriate and the session was going nowhere because of it. She got up and retrieved his file from the top of the dresser. When she returned, he stared at her in puzzlement as she dropped it in the center of the table.
"Colonel, this is a record of your service. You know I've read it from cover to cover. I've examined each and every aspect of your military career through these pages," she placed her hand on the cover, "and I think it's time you read it." She pushed it closer to him and opened the cover.
"I know what's in it," he stated as he closed it without looking. "I was there, remember?"
"Then why are you doing this?" she demanded. "Do you think you can go back to the way you were before? That you can bullshit your way through psych evaluations and everything's going to be okay? Read it!" She opened the cover again.
Anna held his accusing glare. She waited until he relented and reached into the file, pulling out a small group of papers, held together with a paperclip. "These are your progress reports. Normally I don't show them to patients, but I want you to see what your condition was when I arrived." She placed them atop the mountain of paperwork and walked to the door. "I'll be with Janet when you're ready to talk. Really talk. If, after you read them, you decide you no longer need help, just leave the file where it is and I'll assign your follow-up to Doctor MacKenzie. You can complete your sessions with him. Either way, Colonel, please stop wasting my time."
She stepped into the hallway and closed the door.
Jack stared at the reports for long minutes, waiting for her to come back. Waiting for her to take his file from him and tell him she was kidding. After ten minutes, he began to read. When he got to the report about his scene in his office, he put the papers down. It was only a few weeks ago. It had seemed longer. How could he have done the things in these reports? Jack carefully closed the file and pushed it away from him. The few steps to the phone were the hardest ones he'd taken since he had signed on with the doctor. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the handset. As he stood there, he closed his eyes and saw the assessment of Teal'c's injuries. Broken nose, slight concussion. With a steadier hand, he picked up the phone and punched in the number.
"Fraiser"
"Hi, Doc. Is Giaf there?" He waited while the phone was handed off.
"This is Giaf."
Jack took a breath and spoke softly, "MacKenzie sucks."
"I'll be right there."
"I'll be here."
Jack's Journal
The mission was a success. Seth has been sent to Gould hell or wherever they end up. Carter is off with her father in San Diego, Danny is having a ball tying up all of the loose ends in Washington, and Teal'c is probably off meditating somewhere, so I'm all by my lonesome. I'm pretty sure that I upset Carter when I made that "hail Dorothy" remark. What the hell was I thinking? I'll have to speak with her about it when she returns. I can't let this fester too long. I was just surprised to see her zap Seth with the hand device. Makes you wonder how much of Jolinar is left in there. Probably more than I'm comfortable with.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D
Date/Time: Wednesday, May XX, 1999 / 1740
Prescribed: 800 mg Ibuprophen / 1700
Colonel X returned from his mission with no ill effects other than physical bruising and a tension headache. 800 mg Ibuprophen was administered at 1700.
Patient is concerned about his treatment of a team member. When asked if he was taking steps to correct the behavior, patient indicated he was, and this doctor has asked to be kept informed of his progress.
It is recommended the patient's commanding officer be advised that his treatment is reaching its conclusion.
Notes: The colonel was tired when he came to see me and I tried to keep the session as short as possible. I gave him prescription strength Motrin to help him with his headache and told him to keep an eye on it. He just smiled and said that he always did. I told him that I had figured out who Jacob Carter is. It came to me last night when they returned. He's an Air Force brigadier. I met him at a cocktail party in DC, but I heard he had died. The colonel started laughing and told me that the general was a Tok'Ra. I really need to get out of here soon. I've had all the surprises I want for the rest of my life. In fact, I could have been happy not knowing about the Goa'uld. I'm going to be even happier when I say goodbye to this bizarre place.
Jack's Journal
Met Giaf coming out of Hammond's office. She nodded at me and kept walking. I figure she just gave Hammond some bad news about me, but I was wrong. She told him she was ready to leave and that I had one last session and the final evaluation. Two more sessions and I'm free! I haven't been this happy since … well … okay, I can't remember, but I'm really happy. I told Sam and Daniel as soon as I saw them. They were both ecstatic for me. Speaking of Sam, I asked her to accompany me to my office to discuss the last mission. I explained what I meant when I said "Hail Dorothy" and she seemed to accept it. At least one problem is out of the way. Daniel is a more complicated situation. The few times I've spoken to him outside of the SGC, he's been uncommunicative. I'll work on him. He can't shut up for long. It's only a matter of time before he tells me what's wrong.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D / Final Evaluation
Date/Time: Thursday, June XX, 1999 / 2300
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X has made acceptable progress in his treatment. It is recommended that another physician evaluate him in six months to ensure he maintains his current status. Patient has progressed from insomnia and hyperarousal, hypervigilance, and feelings of rage, to a personality that falls within normal parameters.
It is further recommended the patient be referred to a therapist for counseling regarding his feeling of guilt regarding his son's death.
Notes: The colonel is using the relaxation skills now without being aware of it. If he can stick to it, he may not relapse. Frankly, if anyone can tough it out, I think he can. I plan to take him off base when I tell him he's being discharged as my patient. I've scheduled our appointment for next Thursday afternoon.
Daniel hesitated outside Jack's office, debating the advisability of bothering his friend while he was tackling his dreaded paperwork. His hand was poised, about to knock when the door flew open.
"Daniel, what the hell are you doing?"
"I was just on my way to the commissary and came by to see if you wanted to join me."
"Good timing. I was just headed there myself."
They fell into step, side by side, as they navigated the maze-like hallways of the SGC.
In the commissary, Jack took his seat as Daniel made a beeline for the coffee urn. He returned to the table with two cups. Sitting down, he slid a mug across the table to Jack. They drank their coffee in silence amidst the clink and clatter of dishes as the commissary staff bustled around them. He watched Jack over the rim of his cup, noting the relaxed posture and good humor that seemed to pervade him these last few days. Daniel couldn't remember the last time Jack had looked so relaxed, so at ease with life in general. It was heartwarming to see and yet he knew he had to steel himself from falling for the external signs. After all, only a few weeks ago Jack had been lashing out in pain, mere steps away from suicide.
"You know, I never thanked you for taking care of my house while I was away. All of my plants survived."
"I didn't take care of it." He looked up in surprise. It had never occurred to him to check in at Jack's.
"I know," he said with a wide smile. "Thanks again."
Again, they enjoyed their coffee in silence, listening to the easy banter at the tables nearby.
"Daniel," Jack began, swirling his coffee absently, "Giaf brought up something interesting a few weeks back."
"And what was that?"
"She mentioned something about you thinking I was suicidal?"
"Well … um … Jack, that was a sensitive situation. You weren't exactly yourself. You actually told me you were going to … uh … do it."
"What?"
"In the infirmary, after you trashed your … uh … I mean … you know … the office … thing." Daniel couldn't believe Jack was staring at him like HE was crazy. He hadn't imagined it. Jack had said, 'Maybe I should just do it,' and Daniel had believed him. How dare he look at him like that! "You were going to end it. You said so. You were ready to give up!"
"Daniel, what I said was, maybe I should just do it." He paused and looked him squarely in the eyes. "What I meant was, maybe I should cooperate with the doctor. I had decided to get help." Jack stood and collected their coffee cups. "Never write me off too soon, Daniel, and never believe I'm dead until you see them bury me."
Daniel paled as the picture of Jack in a casket presented itself to his mind's eye. He shuddered and blinked several times to erase the morbid image. As Jack ambled off to refill their mugs, Daniel made a promise to himself. The next time his friend became depressed, he was going to be there. He was going to listen. And Jack was going to talk to him or he… Daniel smiled his thanks as a fresh cup was placed in front of him. … was going to kill him…
"Want anything to eat?" Jack asked.
Slowly... The archeologist shook his head. Definitely slowly.
Jack's Journal
This was the strangest session yet. Giaf asked me about Hathor again. Then the Gould. She asked if I still hear Achmed or wake up several times a night. It was very clinical and made me feel like she was giving me a test. Maybe she was. Hope I passed.
Daniel finally came around. The guy actually thought I was going to kill myself a couple of months ago. The kid was pretty pissed at me. He wanted to know what he was supposed to do if I buy the farm. What the hell was he thinking? Okay. Maybe I thought about suicide, but not when he thought I did. As for his question, what the hell am I supposed to say? I said, "Daniel, don't write me off until I'm buried." He actually turned pale. Wrong thing to say I guess.
Patient: Colonel X
Diagnosis: PTSD - Type D / Conclusion of Treatment
Date/Time: Thursday, June XX, 1999 / 1700
Prescribed: N/A
Colonel X is discharged from treatment
Notes: I arranged to meet the colonel at a coffee house in Colorado Springs. When he walked in, I was struck by the contrast in his appearance between the time when I first arrived and now. There's a quiet confidence in his stride that wasn't there when I met him. A directness that I find unsettling when he levels that dark gaze at me. It must be his normal demeanor. A scary, sobering thought. I almost miss the lost guy I stargazed with in Wyoming. He was much less intimidating. He's spotted me so I end this report with a fond farewell to Colonel X.
Jack took the seat across from Giaf. As soon as he sat down, she closed her ever-present laptop and slid a piece of paper across the table. He hesitated before reaching out and sliding it the rest of the way. Unfolding it, he saw one sentence. Patient is discharged from treatment. He'd done it. He was free. On impulse, he grabbed her hand that rested on the table and squeezed it.
"I don't know how to thank you," he said in a voice made husky by emotion.
"It's my job, Colonel."
"It was more than that." He looked up and tried to convey what he was feeling. "You saved me from a life of institutions and drugs."
She smiled. "You would have made it back. Don't put all of this on me. Dr. McKenzie is a competent psychiatrist and his staff is phenomenal. You're going to have to trust them now. I've recommended you for another evaluation in six months."
Jack grimaced thinking about the joys that awaited him in six months. "So you turned Hammond down?"
"Yes," she replied. "I have a life back in Denver, Colonel. It's still back there waiting for me. I can't just pack up and relocate my career, and if the truth is told, I don't want to. You work with things that," she glanced around cautiously, "I want nothing to do with. I just want to go back to treating yuppie burnout. You guys are just too intense to handle on a daily basis."
Jack would have pursued it, but she stood up.
"I wanted to tell you something before now, Colonel, but it never seemed the right time." She stuck out a small hand. "It was an honor to meet you. I've met a lot of heroes in my life, but I have to tell you, I have never met one like you."
Jack stood up and ignoring her hand, walked around the table, and pulled her into a warm hug.
"A handshake just doesn't cut it, Doc."
When he released her, she handed him a small business card. "These are my numbers, day and evening. If you need me, I'll come."
He saw several emotions cross her face as she grasped his hand one more time. "Don't forget, you're the one who did all the work. I just listened." She released his hand and walked away.
Jack dropped into her chair and examined the card as she left the coffee shop. Somehow, he had always thought the instant he received his life back would be more momentous. The anti-climatic feel of this last meeting had him unsettled. He pulled out his wallet and left a dollar on the table. As he slid the card in, he noticed the writing on the back.
The sum of the darkness cannot withstand the light of a single candle.
Jack stared at the card for a moment more before slipping it into the appropriate slot in his billfold, feeling absurdly relieved she had given it to him. It was more than a card. It was a paper lifeline to a candle in Denver, Colorado.
The end.