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Passages of Time part 9

Passages of Time - Part Nine:

Jack was released from his infirmary bed on Friday afternoon. Doctor
Fraiser was satisfied with the way his surgical stitches were healing
and she decided to trust him not to overexert himself and risk damaging
his ribs. She knew a small amount of freedom to roam around the base
would strengthen the Colonel's resolve to recover more quickly than if
he were left to mope about in the infirmary any longer, so she
conditionally discharged him, making him promise that he would take it
easy and not stray too far from medical care for at least another thirty
six hours.

Roughly translated that meant Jack was stuck within the confines of the
base until at least early Sunday morning, or in fact, as Jack deciphered
the order, he was not allowed to leave the actual mountain, that didn't
mean he couldn't go up top every now and again. Besides the exercise was
doing him the world of good.

For the third time in twelve hours, Jack slowly climbed the dimly lit
staircase, pacing himself carefully as he ascended towards the emergency
exit. On this trip, his breathing was becoming slightly easier and his
muscles loosening up at last, but he still needed a steadying hand on
the rail to support his weak steps by the time he passed the halfway
point and he couldn't put too much weight on that arm because the bolt
of pain the pressure provoked in his broken ribs was still severe enough
to leave him gasping, which simply served to add to the tightness in his
chest.

The exertion certainly helped narrow his focus, he suffered a lot fewer
images strobing through his mind on exiting the base than he did
descending back down. Although, if he really thought about it, he knew
it was probably purely psychological, but he was trying not to think
about it, after all thinking didn't seem to help him at all.

Still, he was determined to make it all the way to the top, failure left
him with only two options, neither of which he was ready to face yet -
taking an elevator the rest of the way out, or staying inside the
mountain.

Jack shuddered, pressing on quickly when he finally caught his breath.
He reached the top and swiped his badge through the exit door lock,
pushing it open as he glanced out. He gasped in shock, seeing a menacing
image leering at him, so close he could almost feel the hot breath on
his face. Jack stepped back in fear, the vision fading and the door
slowly closing again on its strong spring. He put out a shaking hand to
stop it from shutting him in and stood for a moment, struggling for
control as a vivid memory played through his mind, a nightmare encounter
in his own office just four days before.

Hugging his right arm against his ribs, Jack fought for calm, gulping
painfully as his chest heaved from the added stress on top of the effort
of the climb. When eventually he was breathing shallowly again, he
stepped out through the door.

Outside it was dark, a crystal clear sky embraced him. At the crest of
the small hill not far above the emergency exit, Jack hunkered down,
lowering himself slowly to sit on the slope, appreciating the fresh air
and the view. He counted off the constellations in a process that he had
been using for nearly eight years, ever since he took up astronomy
sometime after his return from Iraq.

The thought of that place sent a shiver down his spine, recalling the
intense claustrophobia that had all started way back then. He could no
longer remember who had suggested it, somehow it had just happened,
staring at the night sky had become the least damaging way for him to
survive the nightmares. He smiled ruefully to himself, gently running
his fingers through the scrub grass on the hillside, remembering how for
at least a year he had probably spent more time sleeping out under the
stars in the back yard than he had slept in their bed.

Not for the first time recently, he wondered how Sara had ever coped
with him then. It was easy to forget how strong she had been, he would
never have made it through without her help. Still it was hardly fair of
him to even consider imposing on it again, even though she had told him
to call her if he needed her and, right now, he really did want to.

Jack shook the idea from his head, "You can do this alone, Jack," he
murmured softly. "Leave Sara out of it, at least until you're stronger."
Maybe next week, he thought hopefully, you could always call her next
week.

He couldn't help recalling the warmth of her last embrace, the feel of
her arms around him, her hair tickling his bare shoulder, her kiss on
his cheek. He was reminded of an earlier encounter, inside a dark jail
cell, soothing words spoken so softly, drawing him back from another
time, holding him as he trembled. Images sprang unbidden into his head,
a multitude of visions that had plagued him for weeks, new nightmares
mixing with old ones until they were inseparable. A collage of faces and
threats that continued to haunt him.

"God!" Jack rubbed his eyes and gently lowered himself to lay on the
grass, ignoring the pain as his bruised back and kidney pressed against
the hillside. He stared at the star filled sky, desperately trying to
clear his mind. Why wasn't it getting any easier? He had won, hadn't he?

He had finally remembered gunning down his Russian torturer in a hotel
room in Giza, a shocking recollection that satisfied a deep seated
craving each time it came to mind in a way that scared him with its
intensity. And he had beaten the Slav at his own game. He and Daniel had
lived to tell the tale, not that either of them had exactly told it
properly yet, but noone was pushing for facts any longer, not since
Senator Mitchell had been implicated in the conspiracy, leaving the
Senate Committee with far more to worry about than the horrific details
of an eight day reign of torture.

So why were the nightmares still haunting him, the visions still
following him awake or asleep? He had won! He had beaten the odds.

Jack cast his mind back to the previous morning. A meeting that had
unnerved him more than he cared to admit. The idea of facing the man
behind all his pain should have fed his need for retribution, yet he was
sick of revenge and appalled by the violence that continued to surround
him, effecting everything and everyone he touched. Instead, his part in
the calculated act of snagging Senator Mitchell hook line and sinker had
left him feeling like he was about to face Lucifer himself.

The setup had been well planned. The security cameras were re-routed to
one of the labs below the briefing room, so that Daniel and Jack were
able to watch the proceedings on a computer screen. The man himself had
proven to be no devil incarnate, he was just an ordinary looking white
collar politician. Just your average greedy, power hungry, evil Senator,
Jack thought bitterly to himself as he examined the image on the
monitor.

He couldn't help replay a scene in his mind from that Monday afternoon,
a vengeful conversation between two friends facing certain death. They
had wanted to kill this man, they were even going to form a queue! Yet
now, as Jack watched Daniel's reactions to the figure on screen, he
wasn't sure that either of them felt that way anymore.

"So, what do you say we check out a couple or three Berettas from the
armoury and burst into the meeting guns blazing?" Jack quipped
unconvincingly as they watched the Senator and his assistants take their
seats in the briefing room under General Hammond's direction.

Daniel chewed his split lip nervously, "Actually, I think I'd rather see
him rot in a dark jail cell for the rest of his life, it seems more
fitting." He looked at Jack with a pained gaze then, as if to say that
if the Colonel felt differently then Daniel would do whatever was asked
of him.

"Yeah, I know," Jack admitted, "I think I've seen enough dead bodies
lately. Kind of makes me wish I could just get off this planet and go
explore some place peaceful, maybe stay awhile. In fact if I left right
now it wouldn't be soon enough!"

"Nervous?" Daniel asked, hugging his arms across his chest as he perched
on a stool by the computer. He knew the answer from the shadow in Jack's
eyes and the way he was tapping his fingers against his chin, careful to
avoid the bruises which coloured his face in a stark contrast to his
pale skin. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Yeah, I do, Daniel," Jack said bleakly, looking up at him from the
wheelchair that Doctor Fraiser had flatly insisted he be moved around in
until she was ready to discharge him from her care. Daniel had been
released earlier that morning, the doctor satisfied with the extent of
his recovery, so long as he continued to use the walking stick for a few
days until his gunshot wound was healed. "If we have to shake him up,
this is the way," Jack paused, adding ironically, "Kind of makes me
wonder what would have happened if I hadn't found that C4 though."

Daniel stared at him silently, holding his gaze with a look that said
they both knew what would have happened and the consequences would have
been unpleasant for anyone else attending that meeting, as well as for
the Senator.

Hammond's voice suddenly emanated eerily from one of the monitors in
front of them, "Well, Senator, we have had some good news," he announced
grimly, "The local Sheriff has arrested the killers."

Jack and Daniel both watched for the Senator's reaction to the lie. His
pen that was preparing to make notes on a pad, in addition to those of
the stenographer and his personal assistant, froze in mid air for an
instant.

"In fact they're going to transfer them to Cheyenne Mountain at midday
to place them into military custody," Hammond added casually.

They both saw the brief flash of hope in Mitchell's eyes before the
blank mask settled back over his features. "That is good news, General.
So, shall we make a start?" The Senator asked nonchalantly, "Would you
like to call in the first on the list?"

Daniel and Jack continued to bide their time, listening and occasionally
glancing at the screen as Senator Mitchell questioned Captain Carter
about her involvement in the affair at the beginning. Jack couldn't help
thinking how it had been back then, it seemed so long ago, but he had at
least had a purpose, along with the physical ability to pursue his task.
He wondered for the millionth time at what point he had ended up on this
particular road to destiny, whether he might have made a wrong turn
somewhere earlier than that fateful Friday evening on Giza Plateau.

Sam did an excellent job of looking like a career military person who
was struggling to come to terms with the loss of her team mates, Daniel
was all set to give her an Oscar by the time the Senator had finished
asking his questions. Not that it took long to determine that she had
only been in contact via e-mail with the people in Cairo and could give
little firm proof as to the nature of Colonel O'Neill's actions, illegal
or otherwise. Even the Senator knew that conjecture was not going to
hang a dead man.

The session lasted for thirty minutes before the Captain was excused and
they broke for coffee. At that point, Mitchell asked the General if he
could make a call, "Yes of course, Senator. You can use my office,"
Hammond had responded pleasantly.

At those words, Daniel and Jack both stopped staring into space and sat
up straight and alert, this was what they had been waiting for. On the
second monitor in front of them, they were receiving feedback from a
miniature camera that had been hidden on the book shelves in the corner
of General Hammond's office. The picture had remained static until now,
when the figure of Senator Mitchell stepped into shot.

He sat down in the comfortable chair behind Hammond's desk, a move that
seemed to sum up the man's arrogance, but positioned him perfectly for
the camera. The Senator lifted the grey telephone handset and dialled in
a number from memory, leaning back in the chair as he waited for the
call to be picked up.

"It's me. I've got another job for you," he said as soon as the phone
had been answered. "This one pays double because there's a tight
deadline." He glanced at the door then, ensuring it was securely shut.
The blinds on the window were already closed, but the main light had
been left on by General Hammond earlier that morning. The image was
clear and the sound feed even sharper.

"Midday today, the Sheriff's office transports two men up to Cheyenne
Mountain. I want them stopped at all costs. I don't care how you do it
or what it takes, just make sure those two men are dead before you
leave. The money will be deposited into your account as soon as I
receive confirmation."

"We've got him," Daniel said softly, staring at the monitor screen,
astounded by how easy it had been after all this time. They watched as
the Senator replaced the phone, stood up and straightened his tie in the
small mirror hanging on the back of the door, before calmly exiting the
room.

Sam appeared in the lab a few minutes later. "Chapman's team managed to
trace the call and the Sheriff is sending his patrols out there right
now," she said with a smile, wheeling across another stool to sit at the
keyboard in front of the second computer terminal. "How did you like my
performance?" She asked over her shoulder as she typed in several
commands.

"I still say it would have been more fun to send Teal'c in first. I've
never seen crocodile tears from a Jaffa before!" Jack joked feebly,
trying to break the tension building inside him, knowing there was one
move left to make and he was playing a starring role.

Hearing the nervousness in his voice, Sam turned slightly and smiled
encouragingly, "You're up next, Sir. Just as soon as I feed back a copy
of this footage into the briefing room. The General will be able to play
it back any.......minute.......now," she emphasised the final word as
she hit the enter key to send the data back across the loop.

All three turned their attention to the first screen again. A soft
intermittent alarm emanated from the built in speaker, picking up the
sound of a beeping computer perched on a trolley beside the wall in the
briefing room as it began alerting the General to the arrival of a very
important item.

As General Hammond placed his coffee cup on the table and walked across
the room, Daniel and Sam both stood up. Daniel collected his walking
stick from the back of the stool and Sam grabbed the handles of Jack's
wheelchair to push him out into the corridor.

Wordlessly, they headed around the corner and stopped at the bottom of
the steps leading up into the control room. Jack stood slowly, trying
not to put all his weight on his left arm to lift himself out of the
chair, knowing how much it would hurt his ribs even with the dose of
painkillers Doctor Fraiser had given him before he left the infirmary.
Carefully he climbed the first flight of stairs, with Sam hovering at
his side in case she was needed. Several heads nodded in their direction
from the control room. News travelled in the close knit community of the
basement and they knew what was about to take place, each one relishing
the possibility of ultimate retribution.

Jack was pleased to find Teal'c waiting on the landing below the
briefing room. Pausing for air, he attempted to calm his breathing to
the gentle pace that Doctor Fraiser demanded for the benefit of his
damaged lung.

Through the open stairwell, they all heard General Hammond's
authoritative voice as he called up the files from the computer situated
near the entrance above their heads. "Senator Mitchell, there is one
piece of evidence that we would like you to review before we call the
next person in for questioning."

Barely daring to breathe, the team listened as the film taken in
Hammond's office was replayed, loudly and clearly. When it came to an
end, the room fell silent. They all heard a cough as Senator Mitchell
cleared his throat, stalling for time as he searched for some plausible
reason that would explain away his actions.

It was time. With a slow intake of breath, Jack climbed the final flight
of stairs, aware of three people following in his footsteps.

They heard Senator Mitchell find his voice at last, asking in a
contentious manner, "I demand to know what is the meaning of this,
General Hammond!"

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing!" Colonel O'Neill
announced coldly as he appeared at the entrance to the briefing room.
Mitchell's jaw gaped open in shock and Sam found herself wishing she had
brought a pin with her to drop at that precise moment.

Jack moved across to the opposite end of the conference table, standing
straight and bold, his chin raised determinedly. He placed the
fingertips of his left hand against the polished surface in a gesture
that was designed to stop himself from swaying, but which added to the
outward appearance of a calm commanding officer who was now in complete
control of the game.

"Colonel O'Neill!" The Senator recovered quickly, forcing his expression
into a picture of innocence. As three more uniforms stepped up beside
their leader, standing shoulder to shoulder, Mitchell found himself
facing the accusing glares of SG1, a complete four person team once
more. "You're looking extremely well for a corpse!" He told O'Neill as
casually as he could.

"Well, you know, it's only possible to play dead for so long before you
start to believe it yourself!" Jack said bitterly. "And it was worth
surviving just to get a look at your face. You're a hard man to track
down."

"And you appear to be a surprisingly hard man to get rid of, Colonel!"

"Not for lack of trying, I'd say!" O'Neill responded defiantly.

"So I can see," Mitchell looked him over closely, somewhat astonished
that the man could even stand up given how battered and pale he
appeared. Yet here he stood, alive and in the flesh, and apparently
prepared to face his aggressor.

The Senator swallowed, desperately seeking plausible denial or at least
a deflection away from his own guilt, "General Hammond, I demand an
explanation for this. I was given to understand that Colonel O'Neill and
Doctor Jackson had been killed." He glared at the General accusingly,
"Did you lie to me, Hammond?"

"Oh, cut the crap, Senator," Jack interjected, "We all know what you
did. Now it's your turn to pay."

Hammond smiled, sometimes the leader of SG1 could be insubordinate at
the most perfect moments. The General addressed Senator Mitchell's
question reasonably, "I don't believe my statement could be regarded as
a lie," he decided to argue semantics, "I was simply falsely
perpetuating the success of your own illegal request!"

"You have no proof that I made any such solicitations," Mitchell pointed
out.

"Don't you think it's somewhat futile to be professing your innocence
when we have you on tape ordering the assassination of two men?" Hammond
suggested soberly.

"That tape is illegal and you know it!" The Senator gloated, "Anything
else you have is purely circumstantial!"

Just then a security officer came up the stairs from the control room
and handed General Hammond a slip of paper, before stepping back to
stand by the exit.

Hammond opened up the folded note and read the simple contents with a
satisfied smile. "I wouldn't worry about evidence and testimony," he
declared triumphantly, "The Sheriff has just picked up your hired
assassin! Once he hears it was you who turned him in, I'm sure he'll be
singing like a canary."

The General signalled towards the security officer, who disappeared back
down the stairs briefly. He returned with the rest of his team, who had
been waiting patiently in the control room below, ready to take the
Senator into military custody until the government could decide how to
prosecute the case.

As they led Mitchell away, General Hammond turned to the Senator's open
mouthed assistant. "I suggest you contact Mr Mitchell's next appointment
and tell them he will be delayed indefinitely!"

The man nodded hurriedly and followed the guards out of the room. The
stenographer packed up her equipment quietly, chalking this meeting up
as one of the most surprising she had been asked to attend during her
service for the Senate Committee, before making her way from the room in
the wake of her colleague.

General Hammond turned to the four remaining occupants, "Congratulations
SG1!" He beamed at them like a proud father, "I had better get on the
phone to the President and tell him what's happened." With that he went
into his office wondering how the Commander in Chief would react when he
discovered that Senator Mitchell, his new puppet inside the Senate
Committee, had just been arrested by the head of the SGC. Still Hammond
was certain the Committee itself would look upon the Stargate program
more favourably for awhile at least, if only as a manoeuvre to distance
themselves from the illegal acts of their colleague.

A few seconds later he came back out carrying a miniature camera, "I
believe Sergeant Chapman may want this," he handed it to Captain Carter
and then turned back to his office, closing the door behind him.

SG1 found themselves alone and Jack found himself ready to collapse, the
tension and exertion too much for him in the midst of his recovery. Sam
turned round to smile at the three men, still holding the tiny camera.
She noticed the colour suddenly leave Jack's face as his knees started
to buckle beneath him. "Teal'c!" She cried out a warning needlessly.

The Jaffa had been watching O'Neill like a hawk, ready to help should he
stumble or falter. He gently grasped Jack beneath the shoulders to stop
him from falling as he passed out with a groan, his body going limp and
his eyes rolling up into his head. Sam wheeled one of the padded chairs
up behind him and together they gently lowered the Colonel into the
seat. The Captain crouched down beside him, checking his pulse, whilst
Teal'c moved across to the telephone to call for Doctor Fraiser's
attendance.

At the same time, Daniel slumped down in another of the black leather
seats, feeling suddenly exhausted as it slowly sank in that he could
stop looking over his shoulder at long last.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack smiled slightly to himself as he gazed up at the star filled sky
occupying his view. He recalled the previous morning in the briefing
room vividly, the horrible woozy feeling as his legs gave way beneath
him after Senator Mitchell had been taken away. He remembered coming
around to find Captain Carter's hand gripping his wrist to measure his
pulse as though afraid that if she let go, he might stop breathing.

Teal'c had settled him into a chair, handing him a glass of water as
soon as he opened his eyes and watching him carefully for any sign that
he might pass out again, despite the Colonel's assurances that he would
be fine now that the worst was over with.

Daniel had looked as stunned as Jack felt. The idea that the perpetrator
of six weeks in hell had been trapped in his own game and would no
longer be a threat to them, simply seemed too much to absorb in one
attempt. It had left Jack shaky and numb, although some of that might
have simply been exhaustion, and he struggled to concentrate on the
three voices around him that began talking softly, but grew with
excitement as the success of their plan sank in.

Doctor Fraiser had been none too pleased when she had arrived, out of
breath from her haste, to find one stressed out and utterly drained
Colonel who looked long overdue to be delivered back to the infirmary.
Still another twenty four hours in bed had been all that he could take.
Fortunately the doctor had allowed him out that Friday afternoon, much
to Jack's relief, and the opportunity to escape the confines of the
underground base had been quickly and repeatedly taken.

He yawned wearily, searching around the night sky until he found Venus,
shining out brightly above all else. Its presence was somehow comforting
and Jack found himself closing his eyes to the view, relaxing his head
against the grassy slope for a moment.

He came awake with a gasp, recalling a vision of three vast pyramids
against a twilight blue sky with a single bright planet shining out
above Kheops. It was the only star visible that early in the evening as
Jack had waited for the Sound and Light show to begin in front of the
Sphinx, never realising what fate had laid in store for him that night.

Images of dark passageways amidst ramshackle housing, leering gangsters
with bushy moustaches and solid fists, tussled for attention until they
slowly cleared from his view to be replaced by a deep blue star filled
sky. Jack lay still for a moment, modifying his painful breathing once
more. He noticed the movement of constellations that had taken place
whilst his eyes were closed, realising with surprise that he must have
been asleep for several hours. The night was beginning to feel chill in
the early hours before dawn and he shivered slightly in the black t-
shirt and olive drab of his fatigues.

He sat up gingerly, holding the plaster cast of his right arm across his
ribs in support, feeling the ache in his stiffened muscles from his
uncomfortable choice of mattress. Even after all these years, it seemed
he could still sleep better out under the stars than indoors in bed, he
considered ruefully, wondering what Doctor Fraiser would say if she
caught him. With that thought, he stood up, allowing his head to adjust
to the altitude before he attempted to move down the slope, mentally
preparing himself for the long descent into the depths of Cheyenne
Mountain.

Reaching the emergency exit door, he fished in his pocket for his id
card and swiped the lock, keying in the code that was required for
entrance into the base through this particular accessway. He wrapped his
fingers around the door handle and took a slow deep breath before easing
it open to face whatever lay behind it down the poorly lit staircase
within.

~~~~~~~~~~

To most people it seemed like any normal Monday, but for Daniel it was
exactly a week since the explosion in the lobby. When he arrived that
morning, he noticed the main entrance was beginning to look more like
business as usual. The chipped and blasted walls had been replastered
and painted over the weekend. The potted plants had been replaced, the
comfortable reception chairs renewed and the chipboard covering the
shattered inner doors had finally been taken away to leave shiny new
glass in its place. Even Harry was sitting back at his desk, looking as
cheerful as his old self, despite the odd bruise still highlighting his
cheek.

"Doctor Jackson!" He exclaimed brightly when he saw the young man, "How
are you?"

"I'm fine, Harry, but what about you? I didn't expect to see you back so
soon," Daniel grinned, taking the proffered pen to sign himself in with.

"Oh you know me, I get restless if I'm not doing something, so here I
am. I'm only on half shifts for the first week, but then hopefully back
up to full speed," the older man smiled broadly at the thought.

"Well you certainly look a lot better than when I saw you in the
infirmary last week," Daniel declared, casting his mind back to a
friendly conversation between the two men, who both found themselves in
the doctor's care recovering from a bad start to the week.

"I've had a weekend of my wife's home cooking. It makes a world of
difference after that hospital food!" Harry smiled cheerfully, recalling
the younger man's words of gratitude for his perceived act of courage
when the bomb had gone off in the lobby just seven days earlier. Harry
barely remembered doing anything except pushing the man out of the way
and falling on top of him, but he had accepted Daniel's thanks with due
modesty.

Daniel laughed at his comment. "Yeah, I think the infirmary food is
designed to discourage you from ending up there!" He said, adding after
a moment, "Have you seen Colonel O'Neill yet this morning?"

"Yes, Sir, I have. He came in a couple of hours ago," Harry replied.
"He's looking better himself, pretty tired though, I'd say. I noticed
they've taken that big plaster cast off his arm and given him a smaller
one. I guess that must be a good sign," he regarded Daniel with obvious
curiosity since Colonel O'Neill still wouldn't take the bait when the
duty officer had commented on his hand whilst signing him in that
morning.

"Yeah, I guess," Daniel replied distractedly, "I'd better go see how he
is." With that he headed for the lobby elevator to begin the normal
routine of journeying into the bowels of the mountain. It had never
occurred to him until recently just how much quicker it was to travel
millions of miles between planets than it was to simply get down to the
Stargate in the first place!

Jack wasn't in his office when Daniel knocked on the door. He stood in
the corridor for a moment, wondering where else to look, when the door
to the emergency stairwell opened and Jack appeared, looking warm and
flushed. Daniel knew immediately that he'd been up top, wondering if he
should read any significance into the fact that Jack had only been
inside the base for two hours and yet had already been inclined to climb
nearly twenty eight levels both ways as well as stopping for some fresh
air outside.

"Morning, Daniel," Jack greeted him somewhat breathlessly, walking into
his office and leaving the door open for the younger man to follow if he
wanted.

Daniel gazed at Jack's right hand. The thick plaster with Cassie's
flowers drawn on it had been removed, instead there was a much smaller
cast covering his hand, interconnected with individual finger splints,
designed to hold the digits straight but allow some movement as they
grew stronger.

"How's your hand?" He asked, slumping down into the plastic chair near
the wall.

"Okay, considering."

Daniel could tell by the way he said it, that it was far from okay,
"What do you mean?"

Jack shrugged, wincing at the jab of pain such an innocuous gesture
provoked in his side, "Daniel it was never going to be perfect," he
sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as his friend.
"The surgeon says I should get about fifty percent dexterity back."

"Oh," Daniel said flatly, wondering what that translated to in real
terms.

"I'm never going to be able to use it in action again, Daniel," Jack
explained, his voice choked.

He had been trying to figure out what to do about it since he had heard
the news the previous evening, after the surgeon had rushed through the
tests made on it Sunday afternoon when the cast had been changed.

It had seemed like the final nail in his coffin, to be removed from
active duty, Daniel wouldn't want to know how close he had come to
heading out to that liquor store again. Jack shuddered inwardly at the
memory, the inner struggle between positive and negative he had fought
that night amidst the certainty that, after all that had happened, he
had not won at all. He had lost the one thing he cherished the most, his
freedom of choice.

"What are you going to do?" Daniel asked with a pained look, new
feelings of guilt hitting him full on with this shocking news. He had
really believed that everything was going to be all right, that things
would finally go back to the way they had been before all this had
started. Now it seemed things were never going to be the same, and there
would be nothing to keep Jack here, within the SGC. Why would he need to
force himself into such claustrophobic surroundings day in day out if he
was no longer on active duty. He may as well retire and enjoy living out
the rest of his life in the open air.

Daniel bit his lip, fighting back emotions that threatened to overcome
him at the thought of losing his friend and commanding officer.

Jack managed to suppress another urge to shrug. "Don't know what I'll do
yet, I haven't decided. But I think I'll keep my options open," he tried
to sound positive, if only for the sake of his friend. He knew how much
Daniel wanted life to return to normal, he really hated to be the one
that let him down. "Anyway, I've got some paperwork to catch up on,"
Jack added nonchalantly, really needing to be alone right then. He
lifted a manila folder from his basket and opened the report, studying
it closely until Daniel had left the room, closing the door quietly
behind him. Then Jack went back to his normal routine of staring at the
wall.

Daniel wandered aimlessly down the corridor, knowing he really ought to
head for his lab and finish the research that seemed to be taking much
longer than usual. Dawdling around the corner he was nearly knocked over
by Captain Carter, who obviously had somewhere to be in a hurry. "Sam!
How are you?"

"Daniel! Um, sorry, can't stop, I've got a meeting. I'll see you later,
okay?" With that Sam sped off along the corridor, leaving Daniel to
watch her go, marvelling that at least she could still look so excited
over something given how the rest of the team were feeling.

He turned around and almost bumped into the fourth member of SG1 this
time, "Teal'c!"

"Daniel Jackson, how are you?" The Jaffa asked politely, barely breaking
stride as he continued past him, not waiting for any response, he added,
"I am unable to tarry, Daniel, I am belated for an appointment."

Watching him go in astonishment, Daniel wondered whether he was the only
one not in on some kind of secret. He shook his head dejectedly and
slowly ambled up the stairwell to his research lab, to bury himself in
work for awhile.

Daniel didn't see another soul until Jack poked his head around the door
of the lab sometime in the afternoon, asking if he felt like some fresh
air.

"Um, no thanks Jack, not if you're gonna make me walk up all those
flights of stairs again," Daniel replied despondently. "Why don't you
stop here for awhile instead? It is bigger than your office," he added
unhelpfully.

Jack scratched his bruised chin, "Yeah, I've been wondering about that.
How come you've got a bigger room than me?"

"Well, I do need more space for my research stuff," he responded
defensively.

"Rocks you mean!" Jack attempted a grin. "Look maybe I'll stop past on
my way back down, okay," he added, really needing some fresh air after
being shut up inside for two hours. He ducked his head out the door
again and headed back down the corridor towards the emergency stairwell.
As he rounded the corner he almost bumped into Teal'c.

"Colonel O'Neill!" The Jaffa looked startled, as though he had been
caught in the act of something.

"Teal'c! What's up?" Jack asked curiously, wondering how come he had not
seen the man all day, normally he would have made the effort to visit
his office at least once.

"My apologies, O'Neill, but I must not delay." The last words were
spoken over his shoulder as the Jaffa disappeared on up the corridor.

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise and then continued on down the
hallway just passing the elevators when Sam Carter stepped out of one,
"Afternoon, Captain!" Jack greeted her pleasantly.

"Oh, Colonel O'Neill!" Sam flushed beetroot red and Jack began to wonder
what the hell was going on that he obviously did not know about. "Sorry,
can't stop, got to go!" She stammered quickly and practically fled along
the corridor.

Jack stared after her for a long moment, until his undying need for some
open air distracted him once more and he headed for the emergency exit
to begin his slow painful climb back up to ground level.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack was more or less pleased with himself. He had managed to spend the
entire Tuesday with only four trips outside the base. He had also begun
to make a bit of headway into the dreaded paperwork that had built up on
his desk during the last six and a half weeks.

He had come to two decisions in the dark hours of the previous night.
The first had been a brief, but incredibly nerve wracking telephone call
to Sara's answering machine, during which he had managed to ask if she
would like to meet for coffee one evening. As it turned out she had
called back that morning, whilst he was in the shower, and left a
similar message on his own machine, accepting his offer and arranging it
for Thursday evening. That was the best start to a day he'd had in
weeks.

The second decision he had made was to clear up all his outstanding work
before he left the SGC for good. He didn't want to leave any loose ends
untied, besides which, he knew the sheer effort of ploughing through all
that paperwork would help him to decide whether he could stand doing it
for the rest of his life or whether he should simply retire now and cut
his losses.

He was just finishing up the last report for the day, when a tentative
knock came at the door. "Come!" Jack yelled out a response, locking the
drawer of his desk as he stood up and feebly stretched the kinks out of
his tired body, ever mindful of his healing left side.

"Colonel O'Neill?" Sam Carter put her head around the door, an
uncharacteristically nervous look on her face. "Um, I wonder if we could
borrow you for a few minutes?"

Jack regarded her blue eyed gaze curiously, he had hardly seen the
Captain in two days, come to think of it, he hadn't seen Teal'c either.
Somewhat enviously, he wondered what they had been working on that would
keep them so absorbed. "Yes, Captain, what is it?"

"Um, could you come with me to the infirmary please?" Sam asked.

Jack nodded and silently followed her from the room, grateful for the
fact that she led him towards the stairwell rather than waiting for an
elevator to go the couple of floors up.

By the time he reached the grey and white confines of the base
infirmary, Jack's curiosity was piqued, especially when he found Teal'c,
Janet and Daniel all waiting inside one of the rooms.

Jack stood inside the door, his first instinct being to flee, dreading
that whatever they had planned might involve trying to get him to talk
about his ordeal.

Daniel read his mind, "No, wait," he stepped towards the Colonel, "Wait,
Jack, you have to hear what Sam has to say, this sounds
really......um.......interesting."

Jack hesitated for a moment, then he forced himself to relax slightly
and turned towards the woman beside him, "Captain? You want to tell me
what this is all about?"

"Well, Sir," Sam began slowly, "Remember that equipment that Kendra used
on Cimmeria?" Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Well, she had
some kind of hand held Goa'uld healing device," Sam continued, plunging
on regardless, "We found it when we returned the second time and brought
it back with us. Well Teal'c and I have been trying to figure out how to
use it. We didn't do particularly well at first. In the end, General
Hammond gave us permission to contact the Tok'ra and ask for their
expertise." Sam smiled at the memory of having seen her father again
that past weekend.

Jack stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Finally, Teal'c
piped up, "Colonel O'Neill, we believe we have found the way to remedy
your damaged hand," the Jaffa smiled broadly. He was as pleased as Sam
to finally be able to do something towards the healing of their team
leader.

Jack frowned in suspicion, recalling now how Captain Carter had
originally attempted to use the healing device when they first found it
and couldn't even get a peep out of it. He turned to Janet Fraiser, who
was silently watching the group. "What do you think about this, Doctor?"

"Well, as a medical doctor, I admit I remain sceptical about such things
until they are proven," Janet said softly, "But as your friend, Jack, I
think it's worth a try. It can hardly do any harm, after all."

Sam squirmed slightly at those words, a reaction that Jack couldn't fail
to miss. "What?"

"Um, well, we did experiment on a few things ourselves," Sam said
sheepishly, "Some of them didn't exactly turn out too well."

"Like what?" Jack felt compelled to ask, even though he knew he wouldn't
like the answer.

"Well, the Tok'ra told us that the healing device works on all organic
matter," the Captain began to explain, "So I tried it out on one of my
houseplants. It was dying anyway," she added defensively.

"And?" Jack asked with a touch of cynicism.

"Well, it kind of fried it, Sir!" Sam winced, chewing her lip, "But
we've had some pretty good results since that first attempt."

"On plants?" Jack's sarcasm was really beginning to let loose.

Sam nodded cautiously. "But we did also try it out a few times on, um,"
Sam trailed off uncomfortably, unable to finish her statement.

Looking around the group expectantly, Jack waited for someone else to
complete it for her.

"I believe you call it 'finger licking good', O'Neill," Teal'c
interjected.

Jack stared at him dumbfounded, trying to suppress the snort of cynical
laughter that was desperately fighting to escape at their ridiculously
serious proposal. "You're telling me you've been practising this Goa'uld
healing device on Kentucky Fried Chicken? And now you want to try it out
on me!"

"But, Sir, we figured the chicken bones were the closest proximity to
hand bones that we could humanely experiment on," Sam protested hotly.

"Jack, think about it," Daniel's quiet voice calmly cut through the
room, "What other choice do you have?" He shrugged painfully, "At least
let them try."

For a long moment Jack gazed at him, realising that he had to do this as
much for the rest of his team as for himself. Finally he nodded, "What
do I have to do?"

"Firstly, Colonel, I have to remove all encumbrances from your hand. The
cast and the splints will only get in the way," Doctor Fraiser
explained, "But you'll have to keep your hand absolutely still without
them, or you could only worsen the damage again without their support."

Besides which, Jack knew from experience, it would hurt like hell if he
tried to move them, but he'd certainly been there before. He shrugged
and let himself be led away by the doctor to begin the necessary
preparation.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack and Janet were both in agreement that if they had not seen the
results for themselves, neither would have believed it.

Sam had ordered the others from the room, sat down at the table opposite
Jack and slipped her left hand into the Goa'uld device. He had watched
as she summoned up all her concentration powers into one narrow thought
and held the beam of the healing device close to his hand.

Jack could feel it almost touching the pale sensitive skin that had not
seen the light of day in weeks, now covered in so much scar tissue from
the multiple operations that he had endured in an effort to get a little
movement back in his fingers. He felt a burning sensation deep within
the hand that had unnerved him sufficiently to want to pull away, but
Sam had sensed his nervousness and clamped her right hand over his wrist
firmly, focusing all her efforts as she lifted his hand and turned it
over gradually.

She had continued for ten minutes and he could see in her eyes the way
it was draining her energy. The powerful hold the device seemed to gain
over her frightened him so that he wanted to tell her to stop, but at
the same time the light was almost mesmerising, hypnotic.

Finally, the door to the room opened and Teal'c stepped in, as though by
some prearranged signal. Carter refocused her eyes back to the present
and the beam of light stopped glowing. She slumped forward with a groan,
leaning her elbows on the table for support as the Jaffa approached.

Doctor Fraiser and Daniel followed him into the room. Jack didn't dare
move, afraid to find out whether it had worked almost as much as he was
afraid that it had not. Janet took charge quickly, ordering Teal'c to
take Sam to one of the infirmary beds to rest and recuperate, whilst she
dealt with the Colonel.

"Okay, Jack. I know this is difficult, but you're going to have to wait
a bit longer before you try moving anything. I think we should run full
x-rays to see whether there's been any change first. We don't want you
damaging it further by flexing it if this hasn't worked." Jack nodded
soberly. He lifted his right forearm in his shaking left hand and
followed her from the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sam!" The Captain slowly surfaced from a comfortable warm dream as
someone whispered her name in her ear. "Captain Carter, time to wake
up," the voice persisted and gradually Samantha identified the source.
Her military instincts kicked in and she sat bolt upright, "Colonel
O'Neill, Sir!"

"It's all right, Sam, you deserve the rest," he smiled softly, leaning
back into the chair he had pulled up beside the infirmary bed where she
had been sleeping for several hours. "I just wanted to speak to you
before I went home," Jack shrugged slightly, unable to suppress a broad
grin, "Well, see for yourself!"

He held up his right hand, painless and free from encumbrance for the
first time in weeks, even the scar tissue was gone, somehow eradicated
by the alien healing device. He wiggled the long healthy looking digits
slightly, the tiny movement becoming a fraction more pronounced every
time he tried it.

Sam gazed at the fingers with tears in her eyes.

"You did it, Sam. Doctor Fraiser says if I exercise it carefully she
thinks it'll be about eighty percent restored in a week or so. And the
rest I'll be able to work on as it gets stronger." He smiled, feeling
like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders not just from his
wrist, "I don't know how to thank you."

"We can try again later in the week to completely heal it," Sam offered
hopefully.

"No, Sam, I don't think you should use that thing anymore," Jack said
softly, "And if I'd known what it was going to do to you I wouldn't have
let you try it in the first place. Teal'c told me how it works by
draining your energy, that out of control it will just continue until
you have no life left to give. You shouldn't have done it."

"I had to, Sir, you know that," Sam said quietly, breaking his gaze to
stare at her own fingers, still tingling from the energy that had
coursed through them, "I needed to do something. We all did," her voice
was barely audible.

"I know, but please don't use it anymore, promise?" Jack asked with
concern, recalling the glassy transfixed look in her eyes as she was
using the contraption. "I can make it the rest of the way with exercise,
the hand will be almost as good as new. I'll certainly be able to sign
my name or aim a gun as well as I ever could."

"You always were a bad shot, Sir!" Sam joked with a watery smile,
knowing how big headed he could get about his expert level marksmanship
with all forms of weaponry.

"Well, at least now I'll have an excuse!" Jack quipped in response, a
smile lit up his eyes, "Thanks Sam, I owe you a lot." He squeezed her
hand with his left, "Now get back to sleep, I don't want to see you
leave here until the morning, okay?"

Sam nodded happily, settling back down exhaustedly.

Jack waited until she had closed her eyes before getting up from the
chair and leaving, quietly closing the door behind him. The others were
waiting for him outside. "Teal'c can you look after her, make sure she
gets complete rest until tomorrow?"

"I will do so, O'Neill," the Jaffa said with a smile.

Janet turned to the Colonel and passed him a right handed support strap
designed to protect the injured tendons in his wrist, hand and fingers.
"Now remember, I want you to wear this on it all the time at first and
don't try anything stupid for a few days, Colonel. No driving, no target
practice, no writing, I don't even want you scratching your head with
it! You have to work at it gradually, it will be painstaking, but you
know the payoff is going to be worth it in the long run. Come back first
thing tomorrow morning for me to check it again."

Jack nodded, taking the support from her and slipping it over his
fingers almost gleefully, it would be a lot less annoying than his
plaster cast and he still couldn't quite believe the turn of events in
the last few hours that had brought about its necessity. He thanked
Janet once more and turned to leave, wondering whether he'd be able to
find a driver so late in the evening.

Daniel coughed before he could walk away, "I'll take you home, Jack," he
insisted, "I'm going that way anyway. It'll save you hassling for a
driver tonight."

Jack looked at him for a moment before nodding, heading for the
emergency stairwell before Daniel could protest at his choice of escape
route.

~~~~~~~~~~

They drove in silence, Jack staring raptly at his hand and wiggling the
fingers a fraction every now and again, Daniel lost in thought. When
they reached Jack's home, he pulled his car onto the driveway. "Can I
come in? I need to talk to you about something," Daniel asked quietly.

Jack regarded him cautiously, wondering whether this was going to be
another one of Daniel's chats that always ended up with them arguing
over something stupid. Eventually he nodded, the way he felt tonight,
nothing could possibly upset his mood. His hand was finally on the mend
and he was going to see Sara on Thursday night. What more could one man
ask for? Well maybe a decent night's sleep for a change, but he was
pretty sure that would soon follow once he was back on active duty and
had something to immerse himself in.

Daniel followed him inside, accepting Jack's offer of a bottle of orange
juice and watching curiously as he grabbed himself a glass filled with
ice and mineral water. It hadn't really occurred to Daniel before, but
since the alcohol binge he had not seen Jack drink anything other than
water. Not even coffee. He smiled slightly at that, Daniel had wasted a
lot of energy trying to get the Colonel to drink less caffeine, it
seemed ironic that he had simply dropped the habit without even thinking
about it.

"What are you grinning at?" Jack asked when he turned around to lead
them into the den.

"When was the last time you drank coffee, Jack?" Daniel enquired with a
certain amount of glee.

Jack shrugged, "Don't know, why?"

"Oh nothing, I just realised you don't drink it anymore, that's all."

"Keeps me awake," Jack said simply, turning his back and walking away
down the hall.

Reaching the den, he placed the glass down before switching on a single
side lamp, then he carefully pulled open the sliding doors which led
onto the deck. Retrieving his drink, he gingerly lowered himself onto
the couch and stuck his feet up on the coffee table. Jack absently
swirled the water over the ice cubes, focusing on the chinking noise
they made against the side of the glass and the condensation forming
around his fingers. Eventually he took a sip of the deliciously cold
water.

Daniel watched, fascinated by the psychological implications he was
beginning to perceive in all of Jack's seemingly innocuous actions. He
didn't know why he hadn't noticed before, maybe there had always been
something more pressing to worry about lately, or maybe it was the
simple fact that they no longer spent much time together since their
shared experience eight days earlier.

Neither one of them seemed comfortable in the other's company lately and
Daniel knew he was just as much to blame as Jack. He also knew what the
problem was, or at least he thought he knew. Not even General Hammond
had yet pushed them to give a blow by blow account of what had happened
that day. He had settled for the overview, a basic synopsis that had
been coupled with the detailed medical reports on both men, to give a
fairly clear picture of what each one had suffered. But it didn't even
skim the surface regarding the emotional effects and now both men were
busy pretending that things were back to normal.

And for a while there, Daniel had actually thought that life was
returning to normal, right up to the point when he had followed Jack out
of the SGC earlier that afternoon. He had not meant to spy on O'Neill,
he was simply trying to catch up with him.

Jack had poked his head around the door of Doctor Jackson's research lab
soon after lunchtime that Tuesday, in what was becoming a daily attempt
to get Daniel to accompany him upstairs for some fresh air. As usual,
Daniel had turned him down, not even sure why, using the excuse of being
behind with his work. But after Jack had left, he had reconsidered his
actions, finally realising that he was doing his best to avoid being
alone with the Colonel for too long.

That thought had frightened Daniel, he had not been aware of his
subconscious efforts, then he began to go back over the past week and
discovered that the longest conversation they'd had was when Cassie was
visiting Jack in the infirmary, two days after the explosion.

'Two days after the explosion'. Daniel had mulled that over for awhile,
it wasn't two days after they had been tortured and beaten, shot at,
locked up, psychologically abused. Or two days after Jack had pointed a
gun at Daniel's head. It was simply 'two days after the explosion'.

And suddenly Daniel had decided to stop burying his head in the sand and
try to talk to Jack. So he had left his lab and started climbing the
stairs. He could have used the elevator, it no longer bothered him so
much anymore, but somehow he had thought he might be able to catch up
with Jack before he reached ground level, forgetting of course that Jack
was taking the same physical exercise at least four times a day if
Daniel's estimates were correct, which was certainly strengthening his
legs and his stamina, even if his broken ribs were still in the early
stages of healing.

When Daniel had finally reached the emergency exit which came out on the
hillside twenty yards from the main entrance, Jack was already at the
crest of the hill, sitting hugging his right knee to his chest and
staring into the distance. He had not noticed Daniel and the younger man
had been reluctant to cut into his thoughts. But he couldn't help
watching, and the looks that he saw flash across Jack's face, the
tension in his body as he flinched away from his unseen attackers, made
Daniel realise that he was fooling himself if he thought things were
returning to normal.

In fact, things didn't appear to be anywhere near normal for Jack,
unless normal consisted of being subjected to waking nightmares twenty
four hours a day and claustrophobia attacks that forced him to clamber
twenty eight levels into the open air, only to face his demons whilst he
sat on the grass with nothing else to occupy his mind.

And, at that point, Daniel knew that none of their nightmares were
getting better at all. Yet all the protagonists were either dead or
captured, nothing could possibly threaten them anymore. Nothing except
themselves. Or each other. Jack O'Neill had pointed a gun to Daniel
Jackson's head and no matter how hard he tried, Daniel could not bring
himself to trust the man not to do it again, especially now he knew Jack
was still living the nightmare.

Sitting in the den in the comfort of Jack's home, it all seemed so
clear. Jack's whole being was slowly changing in reaction to what he had
endured, and his way of life was altering with it. And, apart from
giving up coffee, Daniel really couldn't see anything good that could
come out of it. It had to be now or never, he had tried so many times
already that lately he had given up his efforts to get Jack to talk, but
now he really didn't have any choice left. And there was one thing he
had to find out for his own peace of mind.

"Jack, there's something I need to know," Daniel began quietly,
determined not to be confrontational.

The older man threw him a look of suspicion, his hackles rising
defensively already, but all he could do was shrug lopsidedly and
gesture for Daniel to fire away. After all, he didn't have to answer the
question if he didn't want to.

Daniel took a deep breath and plunged ahead, trying to ignore the way a
shadow passed over Jack's eyes with his words, "What does 'one bullet,
two choices' mean to you?"

Jack regarded him coolly. "Why do you ask?" He said eventually.

Daniel licked his lips nervously, "Because I heard you saying it over
and over in your sleep during the weekend before you returned to the
SGC."

"Aw, Daniel, you were probably hearing things," Jack attempted to brush
him off, "How could you possibly read anything into the incoherent
ramblings of someone talking in their sleep?"

"Actually Jack, you were pretty coherent," Daniel said grimly, "And I
had plenty of time to listen! I spent most of that weekend watching you!
I never exactly got much sleep of my own, remember?"

"And I suppose that's my fault!" Jack said sarcastically.

Daniel was taken aback by that comment, "Well, yes actually!" He said
indignantly.

He couldn't forget what had disturbed his sleep during that weekend. The
worst fright in the world was being dragged from the depths of your own
nightmare by the screams of someone else's, Jack's to be precise.

Admittedly, sleeping on the small couch beneath the long window in
Jack's bedroom probably wasn't the wisest way to guarantee a restful
night and if Jack had known about it he would have kicked Daniel out on
the Saturday instead of waiting until Sunday evening, but Daniel had
been worried that the state of Jack's health could deteriorate, so he
had settled down on the sofa to keep an eye on him.

Somewhere in the depths of his own recurring nightmare, looking down
into that hole, the stench of death and a battered corpse lying in the
corner. Somewhere about the point at which Daniel rolled the body over
and saw himself instead of Jack, saw what could have happened if he had
been captured instead of his friend. Somewhere in the middle of that
unending terror, Jack had screamed Cassie's name in the most god awful,
blood curdling, anguished cry Daniel had ever heard.

Daniel had been startled awake so abruptly he almost fell off the couch,
his heart thudding so hard in his chest he was afraid he might burst an
artery.

Jack was tossing and turning, his hand clenched in a tight fist at his
temple, his index finger moving back and forth reflexively, knees drawn
up to his chest. He visibly struggled with someone or something, hands
reached out blindly, grasping air in a stranglehold, and then Jack
inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing before he let out a howl of
agonised pain that ended so suddenly Daniel leapt towards the bed where
Jack had collapsed back in a lifeless heap. He had held shaky fingers at
Jack's throat, checking frantically for a pulse, his mind racing with
possible explanations for the origin of what he had seen.

One image above all else pushed to the fore, the fist to his temple, the
trigger finger moving reflexively, was it a manifestation of Jack trying
to kill himself? Had the opportunity arisen during his imprisonment to
end it all there and then? Did Jack's tortured mind want to take that
way out? Daniel had spent the rest of the night wondering, and worrying,
that if the occasion arose again, what choice would Jack make?

So yes, Jack was to blame for Daniel's disturbed sleep one way or the
other, he thought, "But it doesn't matter who's fault it was, Jack,
that's not the point," Daniel argued, "'One bullet, two choices'! That's
the point! I know it means something because the Slav said it too, just
before you aimed that Beretta at my head!" He swallowed dryly, adding
quietly, "You pointed that gun at yourself too. I'd like to know why."

Jack said nothing, it was as if Daniel wasn't even there, he simply
turned his head to stare out the open door, listening to the summer
night beyond as the moment flashed through his mind with devastating
clarity. It was as though an action replay was available inside his head
for every tormented second he had endured in the last month or so. He
remembered every harrowing instant, but there was nothing about it that
he could share with anyone else, so Jack said nothing, until the
unbearable silence forced his friend to play his hand.

"The Slav said you'd done it before, with Cassie," Daniel hesitated, "He
said that you shot her, Jack! That you thought you'd murdered her."

"And you believe him?" Jack asked coldly.

"You've given me no reason not too," Daniel said quietly, "Besides, I'm
not blind, Jack, I can see the way you and Cassie are together. You're
sharing the experience because neither of you are willing to tell anyone
else about it!"

The Colonel sighed irritably, even if Daniel was right, Jack could never
admit it to him, "What's your point, Daniel?"

Daniel felt his anger flare, he couldn't help it, it had been bottled up
inside him for way too long, "My point is, Jack, that after what we went
through, I think I deserve some sort of explanation!" He exclaimed
incredulously. "It was me you were pointing that Beretta at this time,
not Cassie! The two of you may not be willing to talk about it yet, but
I am and I want to know why! What the hell was going through your head?"

Jack stared at him defiantly, resolutely refusing to say a word. For a
long moment, Daniel held his gaze with fiery eyes. Why wouldn't the man
talk to him? Didn't he know how much Daniel despised himself for what he
was being forced to do?

"Damn you, Jack!" Daniel yelled as he stood up and stormed out, slamming
the door of the den behind him with a loud bang.

Within minutes he had returned, carrying a large brown envelope that he
had left on the back seat of his car. Jack regarded it with trepidation,
fidgeting in his seat as he wondered what it might contain.

Daniel waved the offending item in his direction, trying to calm his
temper sufficiently to continue, "I bumped into General Hammond
yesterday and we got talking about your hand. He was surprised that
you'd had any news about it, since you hadn't mentioned it to him!"
Daniel carefully selected his words, stretching the truth a little to
make his point, "Actually, he seemed kind of relieved to hear that you
wouldn't be able to return to active duty! Apparently, even if you're
declared physically fit, regulations state you would still have to pass
a psychological workup and Hammond doesn't want to put you through that
because he knows you'll fail!"

In fact, the General had simply told Daniel that although he did not
want to have to inflict that on the Colonel, it would be a mandatory
requirement if Jack wanted to return to active duty. Daniel had found
himself readily discussing his attempts to get Jack to talk and one
thing had led to another until Hammond reluctantly allowed Daniel to
borrow the one item the younger man believed might aid a last ditch
attempt to get a few things out into the open.

Daniel lifted the flap on the manila envelope in his hand and pulled out
a loose leaf folder. It contained the police report that had been sent
over from Cairo along with the photographic evidence of Jack's torture.
Daniel threw the file down onto the coffee table, watching with a
painful expression as the photos spilled out, ten of them in total, each
revealing a different part of the body or a wider angle of the whole.
"Hammond says it's either me or therapy, Jack. Which would you prefer?"

Jack's curious gaze was drawn to the prints, trying to identify what
they were. Then it hit him, about as hard as one of the Slav's
devastating punches, and he hurriedly looked away, out through the
sliding doors, trying to escape the horrific sight and the flood of
memories that threatened him again.

He had painstakingly avoided any reflection of himself, or glimpse of
his body, since the day he awoke in a Cairo hospital, and he certainly
did not want to see the graphic pictures now. Jack swallowed dryly,
refusing to look at the younger man as he said determinedly, "No
offence, Daniel, but I'd have to choose the therapy. I'm not putting you
through that."

Daniel gaped at him angrily, "Don't you think I've already been through
it?" He yelled, grabbing one of the pictures to wave in Jack's face.
"Look at yourself, Jack! Do you think it was easy to see you like that?"
His throat closed over the words, cutting them off as he recalled the
hotel room in Giza where he had first seen the dreadful sight. Dropping
the print into Jack's lap, he walked away in despair, rubbing a hand
over his face as he fought for control.

His dark eyes hooded, unblinking, Jack stared fixedly at the colourful
image of his battered chest. An array of livid welts and bruises, each
one accompanied by a vivid nightmare floating loosely in his mind.

Daniel turned around, watching with shining eyes as Jack pressed his
right palm down onto one edge and gripped the top with a trembling left
hand. With grim determination, he tore the photograph in two and brushed
the pieces to the floor.

"What do you want from me, Daniel?" He regarded the man coldly, and in
that moment Daniel was afraid he had lost.

"Don't you think you owe me, Jack? To at least tell me why you did what
you did to Cassie? And to me?" He pleaded in a desperate tone that grew
louder with his anger, "Give me a chance to decide whether it was all
worth it! Because right now I don't know anymore. I don't know whether
it was worth saving someone who doesn't want to be saved! Who won't
forgive himself for something beyond his control."

Jack flinched, his voice hurt, but stubborn, "I'm sorry, Daniel. It was
not my intention for you to suffer. And I don't see how making you
listen to what I went through will help."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Daniel asked softly, unable
to give it up. "'One bullet, two choices'?" He persisted, "What does it
mean, Jack?"

But his final plea fell on deaf ears, Jack was gone, gazing out into the
night, a haunted look in his unfocused eyes, and Daniel knew he'd pushed
too far, forcing Jack away, back into the arms of a waking nightmare. To
one more vivid flashback among the multitude of harm that was dragging
Jack inexorably away from all help, no matter the efforts of his friend.
It seemed the power of recall was infinitely stronger than the power of
friendship.

Daniel slumped into an armchair and gazed at him, fighting an
overwhelming feeling of loss. His voice shook when he spoke again, thick
with emotion, talking almost to himself, trying to justify to himself
why he had pushed so hard. "I just wanted to know why you pointed that
gun at my head!" He shuddered, closing his eyes and brushing his
knuckles across his damp cheek self-consciously as a tragedy of silence
surrounded them.

"It happened in Iraq."

Daniel was startled when Jack suddenly spoke, his voice so soft that the
younger man found himself holding his breath to not miss a syllable. He
waited, praying for Jack to continue.

"Most of the flashbacks stem from there." Jack paused, trying to
separate the original circumstances from the new twists that had been
added so recently.

"I don't really remember how long I'd been there. Over three months, I
guess," he recalled slowly, struggling for detachment from the
overwhelming feeling of despair the memories provoked. "The soldier in
the cell next to me had been blinded in an explosion that knocked out
the rest of his team. He was dying. Hell, we all were!" Jack gestured
frustratedly, "He was just going that much faster, slipping further away
each day."

He trailed off, swallowing hard, dragging himself back to the present.
He stared at Daniel, conflicting emotions of anger and hatred blazing in
his eyes with a fierceness that unnerved the younger man. "How much
detail do you want, Daniel?" He asked almost brutally.

Daniel regarded him nervously, unwilling to say anything that might
prevent him from continuing.

Jack glared at the man who was forcing him to relive this horror. He saw
a pair of overly bright blue eyes blinking reflexively and Jack suddenly
recalled that cabin on a hillside just eight days before, he remembered
what they had both been through and he knew Daniel deserved better than
this. So he closed his eyes and turned away, sinking reluctantly into
the past, attempting to recall anything that might sufficiently explain
his actions towards his friend, for Daniel's own peace of mind.

"The Iraqis gave the guy a letter from his wife," he continued quietly,
"They knew he wouldn't be able to read it. They just wanted to torment
him with it." Jack scrubbed a hand roughly through his hair. "I stupidly
figured I could do something to help," he said savagely, "I told him to
roll up the letter and hide it in his bucket. The guards took us outside
once a week, one at a time, to bury our shit, my trip always followed
his. I managed to dig out the letter and get it back into my cell to
read to him," he trailed off, still able to recall some of the words
contained within that could have been written by any loving wife,
including his own.

Jack pulled one knee up to his chest, withdrawing protectively, resting
his arm on it as he rubbed his temple with the heel of his hand. When he
finally spoke again his voice was flat, a dead tone, "I still don't know
how they found out, but they did. He died two days later and maybe the
Iraqis realised the letter was gone when they emptied his cell. Maybe
they just guessed it was me. Maybe they didn't really care, so long as
they had a scapegoat," Jack's voice hitched in his throat and he shifted
to reach for the glass of water that was on the floor beside the couch.
His hand shook as he lifted the drink to his lips.

Afraid to speak for fear it would break the spell, Daniel watched every
move, every emotion that crossed his face and his downturned eyes,
finally beginning to form some understanding of the enormity of what
this man had endured.

"The next day, we all got hauled out to the centre of the yard, every
living prisoner lined up in a row, except for me. I was singled out,"
Jack said huskily, fighting against the recollection of what had gone
through his mind that day, thoughts of Sara that he had believed would
be his very last.

"The camp commandant had come up with a new game! He gave me a Colt and
a single cartridge. The guards picked a victim at random, held a gun to
my head and said it was him or me. 'One bullet, two choices'," Jack
shrugged helplessly, his voice quivering as he continued, "I tried to
kill him, but I couldn't do it.......I just couldn't." He shook his head
despondently, "So I held the gun to my own head and fired."

Daniel gasped in shock. "What happened?" He asked in a strangled
whisper.

"It didn't go off! The gun was old. It failed," Jack passed a trembling
hand over his face, trying not to imagine what if. "Then the guard fired
his AK47 and I thought I was dead, but he shot the other prisoner. After
all that, the other guy still died!" He exclaimed angrily.

"That wasn't your fault, Jack," Daniel said gently.

"Maybe not, but what followed was........I flipped out and went for the
officer's throat and they threw me in the box!" Jack gasped as the
memories flooded back vividly.

Daniel wasn't sure he wanted to ask, but he knew he had to find out,
"What box?"

Jack was silent for a long time, fighting back fear as he struggled to
find words to describe it, staring out through the open doors into the
night. He tried to make his voice sound light, but instead, to Daniel it
was heart rending, "I think it was their idea of the ultimate solitary
confinement. A steel box, about the size of a packing case, raised up on
stilts." He could still feel the hot metal walls press against his body,
the excruciating pain and the increasing despair of a dying man. "You
had to hand it to the Iraqis, they really knew what hell was!" He
murmured bitterly.

"How long were you in there for?" Daniel's grave voice was barely a
whisper.

"About eight days, I think." Jack was unable to face it anymore, he
couldn't go back in that box. He slid his feet to the floor and pushed
up with his legs, lifting himself off the couch to disappear out through
the doors onto the deck. He sat on the top step, trying to reduce his
suffocating gasps to slow lungfuls of air. His head tilted back to gaze
at the starlit sky, letting it fill his view until he had stopped
quaking and his heart rate began to ease.

Daniel sat stunned for a long moment, rubbing his chin edgily. Finally,
he stood up and moved to the door, leaning against the frame to watch
his friend. "Why didn't you let on how bad it was?" Daniel got a rear
view of Jack's helpless gesture. "How did you expect to combat
claustrophobia that deep rooted without help?"

"I got past it before," Jack said softly.

"Maybe, but not by yourself. And not by bottling everything up inside
and hoping it will go away!" Daniel pushed himself off the door frame
and moved to the other end of the steps down into the backyard, far
enough away to be unthreatening, but close enough to see Jack's face.
"You were hallucinating, weren't you? Trying to stay out of the box!
When you shot Cassie?"

Jack nodded almost imperceptibly. "That's no excuse!" He said huskily.

"Jack, you weren't to blame! You were tortured and drugged, pushed so
hard that you were hanging over the edge by your fingertips! It wasn't
your fault!" Daniel's voice begged him to believe, "Don't you see? It's
eating you up inside, Jack. It's destroying you. You have to forgive
yourself."

"After what I did to Cassie? What I almost did to you?" Jack cried in
disbelief, "Who can possibly forgive that?"

"I can," Daniel said emphatically, "And I'm damn sure Cassie already
has! You have to let yourself off the hook, Jack! Forgive yourself if
you want to live past this."

Daniel ground to a halt, he felt so close to breaking through, but he
didn't know what more could be said, except perhaps one simple truth,
"You're falling apart, Jack, and I'm rapidly following. Let me help you,
please? You're my best friend! I need to do this as much as you do, it
may be the only way I can stop my own nightmares."

Jack finally looked at him, straight in the eye, trying to detect a lie.
But Daniel held his gaze, his feelings laid bare for all to see, and
Jack suddenly realised how far off centre he had come. The man had never
lied to him, yet Jack no longer trusted him. "I think I'm going crazy,
Daniel," he admitted softly.

"Join the club, Jack. We've both been tearing ourselves apart with guilt
and anger instead of trying to cope with what happened." Daniel stared
out into the darkness, "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

"Me either," Jack gulped shakily, his voice plaintive, "But I don't know
how to get past it."

"Just share it, Jack," Daniel pleaded, "Then maybe we'll both have a
chance to free ourselves."

Both men fell silent, the sounds of a summer night surrounding them, and
Daniel knew he could wait forever if necessary. But this time, perhaps,
he would not have to. And so he sat in the darkness and listened for
words that he knew would eventually come.

Jack's voice was distant when he finally did speak, staring up at the
comforting stars, letting them fill his view as he was dragged
inexorably back to the beginning. "I'd been following Philip Marshall
around for four days when I overheard him that Friday afternoon. He said
he was going to the show at the Sphinx, so I went to Giza plateau and
waited for him to turn up......."

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night and, when they finally headed for bed, Jack lay
awake in the dark, listening to the sound of dawn approaching through
his open window. He was emotionally spent, yet somehow he felt
different, not afraid to close his eyes. His head was still filled with
powerful images, yet they no longer threatened him. Ironically, he
realised there was finally a possibility that he might sleep soundly,
yet he was too awake to do so.

Jack contemplated what his friend had done for him, wondering how much
of the burden now weighed on Daniel's shoulders instead of his own. Had
they simply shared the pain or reduced its intensity?

His thoughts led back to the hardest moment of all that night, trying to
deal with the memories of being drugged and completely helpless, out of
his mind and out of control. Jack's words had ground to a halt, unable
to express the intense pain and despair, unable to describe what had
happened with any objective clarity.

But Daniel, a man who often appeared so meek and naive, had proven to
hold such depths of inner strength, enough for both of them when Jack
faltered and swayed. Strong enough to carry them beyond the barriers
that jeopardised the most difficult confessions of all.

And when Jack was finally finished, lying back on the deck, a hand
shielding his eyes. When no more words could be spoken as he struggled
to withhold the emotion that threatened to overcome him. Daniel had
spoken so quietly, but so firmly, a powerful voice, cutting through the
gauze of fear and guilt and wretchedness clamouring inside Jack's head,
to be heard strong and true above all else.

"All that time we were planning Cassie's rescue, you thought we would
only find her body, yet you still went inside Kheops. You went all the
way back to that hole, to find out for certain." He gazed at his friend,
wishing he could share the burden of pain and emotion Jack was feeling,
"If you're going to take the blame for shooting Cassie, you have to take
the credit for saving her too, Jack. You got shot to save her, a bullet
grazed your skull, one inch closer and you'd be dead. And so would she."

Daniel continued to speak with all his conviction, his strength of
belief spilling over in his words, "You saved her life twice, Jack,
remember that every time you try to punish yourself for shooting her. If
it wasn't for you, she would have died horribly from an overdose of
those drugs, but you took them in her place, even though you already
knew just how bad the effects were. You took them anyway, to save
Cassie. You offered your life in her place and took that injection."

"And the fact is those same drugs are what turned you around, so that
the next opportunity you had you were willing to take her life to save
your own. But that wasn't you, Jack, how could it have been?" Daniel
argued forcefully, "You had already saved her once, why would you then
try to kill her if you had any control over your actions or their
consequences?"

"And that's why you have to forgive yourself, Jack," Daniel said
earnestly, "You are not to blame for what happened, you are not to blame
for any of it. You never asked for it and you certainly did not deserve
it."

Daniel swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, fighting his own
emotions that surged forth as he considered everything he had heard that
night. At last he knew the truth behind the injuries they had found on
Jack's body when they examined him in that brightly lit hotel room in
Giza. The real story of the torture and pain that had been endlessly
inflicted upon his friend.

Silently, Daniel gathered himself to take the final hurdle, repeating
his previous words for emphasis, "You are not to blame for any of it,
Jack. And Lord knows we would all have done everything in our power to
prevent it, but sometimes these things just happen and no matter how
badly we all want them to stop, they just keep going right on
regardless."

He paused to give strength to his choked voice, "You just have to make
sure that when you're finally back behind the wheel, you take control
again and steer yourself back onto the right path. You have that chance
now, Jack. You are finally free to make the choice. All you have to do
is reach out and take it."

Daniel stood up slowly and walked along the step. He sat down beside his
friend, facing out into the darkness. Jack had not moved, he still lay
back against the wooden surface of the deck, his knees bent, feet
resting on the next step down. His left hand covered his eyes, his right
arm lying loosely across his chest.

Daniel did not encroach, he didn't turn to look at him, he didn't need
to see the tears streaking down Jack's face, running from the corner of
his eyes to dampen his greying temples. He simply placed a hand on
Jack's arm, a gesture of solid support, to show he would be there for as
long as he was needed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack laid in bed and watched the dawn break through the wide window of
his room, slowly turning the jet black sky to deep blue, growing ever
brighter as he considered the new day which lay before him.

Curiously he lifted his right hand, silhouetting it against the light
beginning to creep over the horizon. Gently he wiggled the fingers, a
stiff, tiny movement that drew a smile of incredulity as he repeated the
motion, a rapt look of concentration and hope on his face.

And in the spare room, just down the hall, Daniel slept soundly, his own
sleep undisturbed for the first time in weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

On less than three hours sleep, Daniel drove them back to Cheyenne
Mountain, life went on and they had jobs to attend. They rode in
silence, with no more words left to say, for the moment at least.

For Jack, the first order of the day was to visit the SGC infirmary, so
Doctor Fraiser could check on his hand. Daniel parked his car in the
closest space he could find to the entrance, some distance away due to
their lateness, then they walked across the tarmac together.

"Um, Jack? How about the elevator?" Daniel asked hesitantly, wondering
if he might be pushing his luck, even though now might be the best time
to take that next step.

Jack stopped in his tracks, chewing his lip nervously as he regarded his
friend's hopeful gaze. He wasn't sure he could face that test so soon,
but he could see how much it meant to Daniel. Eventually he gave a
slight nod and followed the younger man along to the lobby.

"Good morning, Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson!" Harry, the duty
officer, greeted cheerfully, passing them the clipboard and pen to sign
themselves in.

"Morning, Harry!" They both said in tandem.

The security man regarded the two men curiously as Daniel initialled the
form before offering it to the Colonel with a questioning look.

Jack gestured with his right hand, his fingers moving slightly beneath
the support strap, indicating for Daniel to go ahead and sign in for
him.

"I see your hand's improving nicely, Colonel," Harry observed with a
smile. "Soon be back on active duty, then, I guess?"

Jack smiled almost to himself at the thought. "Yeah, I think I will,
Harry," he said, then he turned towards the lobby elevators, his chin
set determinedly as he went on ahead to punch the call button.

Daniel watched him go, handing the clipboard and pen back to the
security officer. "Thanks, Harry," he said with a grin before following
his friend.

As they waited for an elevator to arrive, Daniel found himself observing
Jack closely, watching for any emotion that might pass over his face.
Jack was gazing at the digital readout expectantly, mentally bracing
himself as the doors finally opened.

Inside the car, Jack leaned into the back corner, glancing around idly
for something to focus on. He looked up, staring directly into the blank
eye of the security camera and an image flashed into his head vividly,
startling him with a jolt. Jack pushed upright off the wall, his first
instinct to flee, but instead he challenged himself to recall every
moment of that elevator ride with the Slav some ten days earlier. Daring
himself to face it head on and cope with it, and then hopefully get past
it.

Daniel continued to watch quietly, noticing Jack go slightly pale before
he stood up straight. He could see the memories were still vivid, still
shocking, but he could also see the way Jack was fighting back at last,
tackling them head on to push beyond them instead of burying them.

When the doors eventually opened on sub level eleven, Jack moved to the
front of the car, his step faltering slightly as he remembered the last
time he was there, the faces he had seen in the corridor outside. He
lifted his gaze and looked straight ahead, taking a long breath before
stepping from the elevator and turning along the corridor. He saw
nothing, the best thing he could possibly hope for. Gaining in
confidence with every step, Jack strode towards the end of the hallway
to await the continuation of his journey into the bowels of the base.

By the time they arrived on the infirmary level, Jack was beginning to
yearn for the hollow heights of the emergency stairwell, instead of
still being in the elevator car, still travelling slowly downwards. He
had begun pacing up and down like a caged animal, trying to fool himself
into thinking he had freedom of movement, but he had not panicked and he
had not given up and for that he was grateful and deeply relieved. And
he knew it would get easier with every journey, now that he had broken
the barrier that first time.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jack walked the well known route
through the concrete and metal structure towards the medical centre.
Daniel continued to follow, almost unheeded, determined to see the
Colonel safely to his destination, even though it was beginning to seem
an unnecessary precaution.

Doctor Fraiser was busily annotating charts when they strode into the
infirmary together.

"Colonel O'Neill, I thought you were going to come and see me as soon as
you arrived this morning?" Janet glanced up in surprise.

"I just did!" Jack said simply.

Suspiciously, the doctor considered the dark circles beneath Jack's
tired, red rimmed eyes, then she noticed how exhausted Daniel also
looked. Before she could open her mouth to say anything further, Daniel
yawned loudly. "I'll leave you to it!" He said, disappearing rapidly out
of the room before Janet could begin her grilling.

Doctor Fraiser turned to the Colonel, indicating for him to sit up on a
stool as she pulled over a small trolley and rested his right hand on
it. "Heavy night?" She asked, beginning to remove the support strap.

"Yeah, kind of," Jack scrubbed his free hand through his hair tiredly.

"You're not overdoing it, are you? You know you have to take it easy
until your ribs are healed, it's only been ten days," she said
pleadingly. Janet really couldn't face the idea of the Colonel making
yet another return visit to the hospital.

"No it was nothing like that. Daniel and I just stayed up late talking,
that's all."

From the tone of his voice, she could tell it most certainly was not
'all', somehow he sounded different than of late, but Janet decided not
to push him on the subject, for now, preferring to give him space to
breathe. "Have you seen General Hammond yet? I'm sure he'll be happy to
hear about your hand," she said as she began to examine the fingers.

"No, I kind of assumed you'd have told him when you gave your morning
report," Jack explained.

Janet grunted noncommittally, "I usually just leave them on his desk."

Jack regarded her curiously, noticing the way she avoided his gaze.
"Janet you have to let him off the hook, you know," he said softly.
"What happened wasn't his fault."

Finally, she looked up at him, "I know, Daniel told me about the threats
and I am trying, but it's hard to forget what almost happened to
Cassie!" She shrugged helplessly.

"You can't blame General Hammond for that, what Cassie went through was
because of me," Jack said quietly, staring down at his hand as Janet
continued to manipulate it, testing out the movement painstakingly. He
lifted his head and looked at her nervously, "Janet, there's something I
have to tell you," he trailed off, swallowing reflexively, then he took
a deep breath and blurted it out quickly before he lost courage, "When
Cassie was inside Kheops, I pointed a gun at her head and pulled the
trigger! The bullet was a blank, but I didn't know that at the time!"

Janet stopped flexing his fingers and met his gaze, "Jack, there's no
need to torment yourself, I already know all about it." He gaped at her
in surprise. "But I'm really glad you finally told me yourself, thanks,"
she squeezed his arm gently.

"Cassie told me one night a couple of weeks back," Janet explained, "I'd
been having nightmares and she woke me up. We talked about what had
happened and in the end Cass told me everything. She knows why it
happened, Jack. She doesn't fully understand why anyone wanted to hurt
you like that, or hurt her, but she knows you were drugged and injured
and simply looking for any way out. That wasn't you, Jack. Cassie knows
that. She's okay with it, she forgave you long ago, she's more worried
about how you're dealing with it!" Janet paused, considering him
carefully, "How are you dealing with it, Jack?"

Jack shrugged lopsidedly at her question, not entirely sure of the
answer himself yet, but beginning to feel a bit more positive with each
passing moment. "If you knew what I did, how come you never said
anything? I thought you'd despise me for it?" He said softly.

"I couldn't tell you, Jack. This was something that had to come from
you, part of your acceptance of what happened, a way to work through
it." She smiled gently, "As for hating you, that's never going to
happen!" She assured him. "I saw what they did to you, Jack, remember?
Everyone has their limits, you were pushed beyond yours. Noone's
invincible, not even you!"

"And there's me thinking I'm Superman!" Jack quipped ironically, a soft
grin forming on his face.

Janet's eyes twinkled, reflecting his own genuine smile, "Even Superman
had an Achilles heel!" She wiggled his fingers one more time, "You know,
I think it's going to be all right after all," she declared in
amazement, her wider meaning clearly apparent.

"Does that mean you're going to tell Hammond?" Jack held her gaze with a
sly look. She opened her mouth as if she might be about to object. "I
can't tell him, I have something else I need to do," he added quickly.

In the end, Janet gave a soft sigh. "Okay, I'll go talk to him," she
nodded, resigned to the fact that Jack was right, this time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Finished in the infirmary, Jack walked back along the corridor to the
stairwell, going down a couple more levels to reach Doctor Jackson's
office and knocking lightly on the door.

When he got no answer, Jack eased open the door and poked his head into
the room, a slow smile spreading across his face. Daniel was snoring
softly with his head down on the workbench, catching up on lost sleep.

The Colonel hesitated for a moment, unable to decide whether to leave
him to it or not. He was about to turn and go, when Daniel stirred,
seeming to sense his presence. "Jack?" He mumbled dopily.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jack turned back to face him.

"How's the hand?" Daniel asked, sitting up and rubbing his sleep filled
eyes.

Jack lifted his right fingers and wiggled them a fraction, "Doctor
Fraiser says it's fine. I can keep exercising it, so long as I let her
keep checking it!"

"Good!" Daniel yawned widely.

"Actually, I came down to see if you fancied some fresh air," Jack
admitted sheepishly, unable to break all his habits in one day.

Daniel gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Only if we can go in the
elevator," he offered with a sly smile. He knew they couldn't expect
miracles over night, but he was also confident that Jack would push
himself as hard as he could now, and hopefully achieve a little more
each day.

"Wouldn't you rather get some exercise while you're at it?" Jack asked
persuasively. But Daniel simply stared at him resolutely until Jack put
his hands up in a submissive gesture, "Okay, how about we go as far as
the eleventh floor in the elevator, then walk the rest of the way," he
bargained reasonably, figuring that way he'd get the best of all worlds,
the challenge of a confined space, some physical exertion and the relief
of the open air.

"Deal!" Daniel said with a grin, getting up off his stool and stretching
his stiff back before following his friend from the room, looking
forward to some fresh air and relaxed conversation for the first time in
weeks.

Their voices drifted down the hall as they headed for the elevator, "So
I had an e-mail from Doctor Blackwood yesterday," Daniel tried to make
it sound like an idle comment, "They've found some new pictograms he
wants me to take a look at."

"Daniel!" Jack's warning tone told the younger man that he shouldn't
even be starting such a discussion.

"Well, he did say he could send me the digital images." Daniel threw the
Colonel a pleading look as he punched the elevator call button lightly,
"But it would be so much better to see them for real!"

Jack gaped at him in astonishment, causing Daniel to plunge on quickly
before O'Neill had a chance to get fired up. "You can't let one bad
experience put you off an entire country, Jack," he argued mildly, "The
Egyptian's are a wonderful people and they've got more history than the
rest of the world put together. Besides, if you blamed the majority for
the actions of a minority you'd never go anywhere!"

"Suits me fine," Jack said quietly, unable to believe that they were
even having this conversation. He found himself actually wishing the
elevator would hurry up and arrive to at least give him some form of
distraction. "Daniel, I'm not going with you!" Jack said firmly,
suddenly realising where this was heading, "So don't even think about
asking."

"But Hammond says he won't let me go alone," Daniel objected.

The Colonel shook his head in disbelief, about to say something caustic.
Instead he smiled as sweetly as he could given the circumstances, and
spoke in the tone of a long suffering commanding officer, "Then I
suggest you ask Captain Carter, I'm sure she would jump at the chance to
study rocks in Egypt for a few days!" With that Jack stepped into the
waiting elevator car, signalling an end to the discussion, at least for
the time being.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday evening, Jack caught a cab to the diner and by the time he
had settled into a booth he was beginning to feel like an excited
teenager on his first date. It was ridiculous really, all they were
going to do was have a cup of coffee together and talk. For a start he
planned to apologise for his behaviour almost two weeks before, for
causing Sara worry, not to mention her being woken up by the police in
the middle of the night because of him.

When Sara arrived, dead on time, she looked as beautiful to Jack as the
day they had met. She took one look at him and smiled so brightly he
felt his heart ache despite everything he had promised to himself
beforehand. All his resolve seemed to crumble in the face of her
attention.

"Jack, you look great!" Sara exclaimed when he stood up to greet her,
practically examining him from head to toe. "You look so much better
than when I last saw you," she emphasised, "And you've had the cast off
your hand!" Jack waggled his fingers a fraction to demonstrate the
returning movement. "That's wonderful!" She declared happily, sitting
down in the booth and watching him carefully retake his seat opposite
her. "A few leftover bruises I see, and you still need to gain some
weight, but you've lost that haunted look," she added almost shyly,
gazing into his brown eyes.

"Well, I aim to please," Jack quipped lightly, somewhat overwhelmed by
her reaction to seeing him again. "Sara, look," he paused, searching for
words that would reflect his sincerity, "I wanted to apologise for what
I put you through the other weekend."

"Jack, you don't have to apologise for anything," Sara said softly,
laying her fingers over the strapping on his right hand and patting it
gently.

Jack held her gaze, covering her hand with his left, entwining his
fingers with hers, soaking up the moment while it lasted and storing
every detail into memory. "So, do you want coffee?" He asked eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Friday lunchtime crowd had already dissipated by the time Maggie had
a chance to clear the dirty glasses and wash them. Eddie had gone on his
break, leaving her to serve the few remaining stragglers.

She was busily tidying the back shelves and restocking the bottles when
she caught a glimpse of someone approaching the bar. When she turned
around, there stood a tall man, with greying temples. His handsome
features no longer gaunt and pale, the haunted shadow gone from his
soulful brown eyes. He grinned at her, an expression that lit up his
whole face.

"You're looking better than when I last saw you," she smiled
appreciatively. He was dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt, his
jacket slung over one arm. The belt at his waist was tightened a few
more notches than normal judging by the wear on the leather, "Still need
to gain some weight though!"

"Yeah, that's what my ex-wife says," he admitted shyly.

"You're still talking then? That's got to be a good sign," Maggie
berated herself for sticking her nose in, but no waitress worth her salt
would pass up the opportunity for a good bit of gossip.

"Yeah," he smiled and Maggie noticed the way his eyes twinkled suddenly,
instinctively knowing there was more to that comment than he was letting
on. The handsome face turned bashful and he brought his left arm around
from behind his back, a bunch of sunshine yellow roses held in his hand.
"These are for you, by way of an apology," he explained quietly. "I'm
really sorry about what happened to your head!"

"Don't worry, it's pretty much healed now. No permanent damage." She
smiled widely, accepting the gorgeous fresh buds, still barely open, and
wondering what her husband would say about them. "They're beautiful,
thank you," she held the flowers close and breathed their soft scent,
her face lighting up radiantly. "My name's Maggie, by the way."

"Jack," he said simply.

"You're kidding, right? Your name's Jack and you drink Jack Daniels!"

He shrugged sheepishly, "Not anymore!" He grinned.

"Yeah? Well, Jack? Next time you're planning a binge, give me some
warning and I'll wear my hardhat!" Maggie laughed, appreciating it all
the more when he laughed with her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Exactly seven weeks to the day when Colonel Jack O'Neill had been forced
to break a promise to a young friend, he arrived at her house to accept
his due punishment.

The second he stepped from the unfamiliar car that had delivered him to
her door, Cassie jumped up to give him as restrained a hug as her usual
over exuberance could manage, ever mindful of his still healing left
side. "Jack! How are you?" She cried happily.

Janet watched the display of hugs and laughter from the porch step,
surprised by the presence of a blonde woman driving the vehicle. She was
even more surprised when Jack introduced her, holding out his strapped
up right hand towards her, gesturing for her to come around from the
driver side to join him.

"This is Sara," he said with a smile Janet didn't remember ever seeing
before. Then she recalled the woman's face from a picture on his mantle
of some long ago family time.

The blonde woman smiled brightly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to
encroach, I just offered to drop him round as I was passing," she
explained.

Both members of the Fraiser household raised eyebrows in tandem, Janet
wondering curiously how Sara happened to be in Jack's neighbourhood in
the first place, but it was Cassie in her usual uninhibited manner, who
actually said what she was thinking. "So you're Sara!" She grinned
knowingly, "Jack says you're the best lock picker he knows!"

Sara withered slightly under Janet's shocked gaze, "I've just had a lot
of practise!" She told the young girl, turning to her mother to explain,
"When you've locked yourself out as often as I have, it comes in useful!
I think it was one of the first tricks Jack taught me when we met!"

"Are you sure?" Jack's questioning grin echoed with hidden meaning that
caused Sara to blush furiously.

Cassie watched the two of them, a mischievous smile forming on her face,
"Why don't you join us, Sara? Then maybe Mom will come along too if
she's got someone to gossip with. She doesn't have many Saturdays off
and I think we should get her out of the house for a change! Besides,"
Cassie declared confidently, "This is going to be fun!"

With that, Jack grabbed Cassie around the waist with his left arm and
lifted her off her feet tipping her horizontally until they were both
giggling so hard that Jack's ribs were starting to hurt and he had to
put her down. He ignored the way Janet was glaring at him with doctorly
concern and turned back to Cassie, "So what punishment do you have in
store for me?"

"Well since you're not allowed to play ice hockey yet, I figured maybe
simple ice skating would do."

"Really?" Jack looked as excited by the prospect as she was.

Janet turned to Sara and smiled, this could be a prime opportunity to
finally get to know a bit more about what made Jack O'Neill tick, "So
what do you think, Sara? I'm game if you are."

"Yes, okay," Sara flashed a smile, she didn't quite feel ready to leave
yet. Anyway she was enjoying the sight of Jack interacting with kids
again after so long, he always was so great with them, she thought
wistfully.

Janet saw the look in her eyes as Sara watched the laughing pair, "How
about a coffee first?" She asked, already certain she was going to like
this person.

~~~~~~~~~~

Together the two women leaned on the barrier watching the pair whizz
round and round the ice rink. At times Jack hauled Cassie along, the
fingers of her small right hand wrapped in his left, or tucking her
under his arm like a football and racing so fast that her hair streamed
out behind her, or simply skating in tandem at a less frenetic pace that
her much shorter legs could keep up with and which gave his aching ribs
a sorely needed rest.

Janet and Sara chatted like old friends, it had been a fun afternoon for
them too even if neither had felt up to tackling the ice, or maybe they
simply didn't want to encroach on the intense father daughter type
bonding that was going on before their eyes.

Now they watched Jack standing with Cassie in the empty centre of the
rink, teaching her to spin around on the spot. He twirled her by the
arm, using his right hand only for careful support as his left did all
the work.

Janet chuckled at the pair on the ice, trusting Jack implicitly with her
daughter's safety despite their antics. Still she couldn't help holding
her breath every time the Colonel did something that might overstress
his damaged ribcage. At least his stitches were all healed now, she
didn't have to worry about him bursting any, and the fun form of
exercise Cassie had come up with seemed to be doing him the power of
good.

"He looks so different to two weeks ago," Sara eventually said with a
shy smile.

For a long moment, Janet studied the laughter on Jack's face and the
look in his eyes and it finally occurred to her just what the difference
was.

"He looks free!"

~~~~~~~~~~

finis

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