Unfit For Command
by
Doc
Part 1
“Damn! Don’t get stuck on me now!” She’d have to do
something about that lock. At some point. When she had time … Time! There was a
joke and a half ...
At least for the moment swearing seemed to cure the
problem, and Dr Samantha Carter, Major USAF, pushed into her apartment, flung
her bag into a corner of the hall, and slammed the door behind herself. Home.
Safe. Alone … Bath! Always assuming that, by some mysterious quirk of fortune,
her landlord had got round to fixing the hot water tank while she’d been away.
“And pigs can fly”, she muttered to herself, making for the bathroom.
She was stopped by the red light on her answer phone
rapping out a little gigue. Sam rolled her eyes, and then checked the calls
anyway. Maybe he’d finally - … Daniel. There was a surprise. And Daniel. More
Daniel. And, who would have guessed? Daniel again. The message was essentially
the same each time: “Call me!!! It’s urgent.” Sure, Dr Jackson. So’s my bath.
Three days ago, Dr Fraiser had cleared her for light
duty, and she’d been sent to
… only to spend the better part of the flight silently
cursing the sadistic jerk who had designed the standard economy aircraft seat.
Presumably some Goa’uld system lord with an axe to grind, seeing that the seats
clearly weren’t meant to accommodate human anatomy, except as a form of slow
torture. Sam groaned. Oh yes, she definitely needed a bath!
Piping hot water! Whatever next? Sam poured in a
liberal dollop of scented bubble bath and left the taps running as she went to
undress and put a CD in the stereo.
What is there
that strips you of your pride
There is
nothing left of you inside
If you would
reach for me
If you would
reach for me it could be
Something real
…
Uh oh. Bit close to home … She shook her head and
returned to the bathroom.
Catching her reflection in the mirror, her gaze
lingered on the angry red scar across her side. Too bad. It would put paid to that
sweet little tank top number after all … Oh no, Carter, don’t go there, don’t
even think there! Abruptly, she
turned away and climbed into the tub, slid back, stretched, closed her eyes.
When your
faith has left before the morning
Someone there
softly breathing
A body to
awaken
When time
comes to tear you
A cruel enemy
You could hold
on to me …
Unbidden, the memories started flooding back. They’d
taken it for granted. The easy, trusting working relationship SG-1 had
established had seemed so much a given, something that would always be there.
Until it wasn’t. It had been Daniel of all people, gentle, ever-forgiving
Daniel, who’d proved intransigent when their trust was shaken. With the benefit
of 20/20 hindsight it wasn’t all that surprising. Daniel dealt in absolutes,
and the orphan in Daniel refused to forgive what he perceived to be betrayal by
his best friend …
And who do you think you’re fooling, Carter? Sam’s
face flushed hotly, and it wasn’t the bath. She knew she was hardly blameless.
She’d dismissed Colonel O’Neill’s awkward attempts at apology with at least as
much skill and hostility as Daniel had. She’d wanted to hurt him back. And in
the midst of all this had come their next assignment. It was supposed to have
been a routine mission. As if …
***********************
A scheduled return visit to P4X 535. Ostensibly
harmless, early colonial society whose citizens had just discovered the joys of
the flintlock. Which, in turn, had given rise to a nasty little outlaw-problem.
SG-1 had helped to sort it out, and now they were supposed to check up on how
things had been going since. Three days there in a settler village they’d
visited before, home-baked bread, home-brewed beer, and stories by the
fireside.
Coming barely a week after Colonel O’Neill’s
undercover stint with Maybourne’s renegades and the new rifts it had caused,
the mission obviously was designed to be some therapeutic ‘Let’s get SG-1
reacquainted’ exercise. Sam wasn’t entirely sure whose bright idea that had
been, but she was willing to put her money on Dr McKenzie. Trust a shrink!
Of course, it didn’t work that way. Mistrust and
resentment had been hanging over the team since the Colonel’s apparently less
than enthusiastic return from Edora. The lies and deception that followed
hadn’t helped. So, SG-1 had stood in the embarkation room, waiting for the
stargate to surge into life, furtively shifting glances, lest eyes met
accidentally. General Hammond had looked on like a concerned uncle who’d just
found out that his favourite niece and nephews had been caught ram-raiding. Or
something. Things got worse from there on out. That day, for the first time
since SG-1 had become a team, they’d stepped into the event horizon like four
tired strangers on the six o’clock commute into work.
When the ‘gate had catapulted them out onto the
densely forested world of P4X 535, Sam had actually found herself yearning for
one of the Colonel’s quips. Trees. Trees. And more … trees! She had almost
allowed herself to smile at the recollection, but stubbornness and hurt
feelings had won. The quip never came, anyway. Instead it was: “Move out.
Teal’c, take point. Keep your heads up.”
With that, he had fallen back to take the rear, and
they’d marched the fifteen clicks to the village in stony silence. Daniel and
Sam sulking, Jack O’Neill retreating further into himself with every step he
took, and a somewhat unnerved
On behalf of the village, Zeb, local surgeon and
alderman, had invited them to a feast in the barn, the one structure large
enough to host all the families and their guests. For the most part, it had
been pleasant. Stories were swapped over dinner, and after the meal an
impromptu string band had struck up. The children had tried to teach Teal’c a reel,
much to the amusement of the adults, and one by one, people had joined in the
dancing. With the exception of the Colonel. He had been withdrawn all evening,
picking at his food, and eventually their hosts had given up on getting him to
talk. Then one of the children had tried to drag him onto the dance floor.
O’Neill had declined tersely, risen and made for the door. Sam had started
after him, when Daniel grabbed her arm.
“Forget it”, he said loudly. “We’ll have a better time
without him.”
The Colonel had heard it, as he was meant to. He never
broke stride, but Sam saw him flinch as though he’d been hit. Shoulders tensed,
he slipped out through the barn door. Suddenly she was furious with Daniel …
and with herself.
“For God’s sake, isn’t it about time you … we … cut him some slack?! How long do
you want to keep this up?” Sam realised she was shouting and lowered her voice
to an angry whisper. “Do you want to
break him? He’s our friend, dammit!”
“No, he isn’t. He said so himself. And anyway, nothing
breaks Jack.” Daniel’s face was a mask of pain and confusion, contradicting the
venom of his words.
“Oh, come off it! You know exactly why –”
But Daniel had disappeared into the crowd. Sam threw
her hands up in frustration, and after a moment she, too, decided to rejoin the
villagers.
***********************
‘I should have gone after him’, she thought for the
hundredth time. ‘Chances are, it’d never have happened …’
It was ironic, really. Supposedly, Jack O’Neill was
their resident expert on self-reproach, out-regretting even Daniel, and she was
beginning to understand how he felt. But it was too late now, too late to do
anything, except kick herself for not recognising the signs.
Sam sighed and casually started listening to the new
track.
Have you been
the broken one
Lying by the
side of the road
Waiting for a
good Samaritan
But noone has
the time to ask
Why are you
bleeding?
And are you
going far …
Noone had asked, noone had looked beyond their own
grievances …
***********************
Eventually the candles had burnt down and everyone had
retired to bed. Like the last time, SG-1 set up camp in the barn’s hay loft.
Back then a good-natured, giggly hay fight had broken out after a few pointed
observations from the Colonel, regarding hay fever and archaeologists. This
time the mood was sombre. O’Neill hadn’t returned yet, and Sam, Daniel, and
Teal’c crawled into their sleeping bags, sullenly mumbling “Good Night”. Sam
had slept fitfully for a few hours, when she was woken by a rifle shot. “What
the …?!”
“SamanthaCarter. O’Neill may require our assistance.”
Teal’c. Did he ever sleep? Belatedly, Sam realised that their CO obviously
hadn’t been back to the barn at all, but there was no time to worry about that
now. As though to confirm Teal’c’s words, several more shots rang out. And
Colonel O’Neill was out there unarmed.
“Teal’c, Daniel, climb up to the roof and cover me.
I’ll go find the Colonel.” She picked up her own gun and O’Neill’s MP-5, slid
down the ladder and, after a quick scan through the door, dashed across the
road to take cover behind a stack of firewood.
70 yards down and ahead of her she could make out ten
men, all armed with long rifles, covering another group, some of them busy
driving the villagers’ horses from the paddock, others flinging lit torches
onto the roofs of houses and storage sheds. The settlers were fighting back
now, and new shots erupted as muzzles began to appear in the windows.
Suddenly a door flew open, and a child, the boy who
had tried to get Jack O’Neill to dance the night before, ran out into the
street and towards the paddock. “That’s my foal, mine! You leave my foal
alone”, he yelled.
“Get down! Oh God, get down!” O’Neill. Sam looked over
to the left and spotted her CO sprinting out of the doorway of a burning cabin
opposite, trying to reach the child.
“Shit!” Sam watched helplessly as one of the raiders
aimed and fired. The boy, hit in mid-run, tumbled and fell like a rag doll.
With a scream of pure rage and despair the Colonel dived to the ground next to
the small body.
“Sir!” Finally, Sam had a clear line of fire, and she
loosed a burst at the attackers, driving them into cover before she tossed
O’Neill his H & K. “Daniel and Teal’c are covering us from the barn. Get
back into that doorway, sir!” He’d caught the MP, but he wasn’t listening, Sam
could tell. He sat up, clicked the safety off the weapon and started firing.
The next few minutes were sheer chaos. The air roiled
with the low bellow of flintlock rifles, the hiss of staff blasts, and the
relentless chatter of machine gun fire coming from the barn roof, Sam’s
position, and from the solitary figure that knelt in the middle of the road.
Eventually the surviving outlaws retreated, and little by little the shots died
down, until everything was silent. Then a wail rose. The boy’s mother.
Sam had stepped out from behind the stack, watching
the Colonel put down his weapon and gently wipe the dust from the dead child’s
forehead. At last he looked up, focussing somewhere beyond her, and slowly came
to his feet. He stood in motionless expectation, and for the first time Sam
could remember, his expressive, nervous hands were completely still.
Instinctively, her gaze travelled along his line of vision, and then she
spotted the barrel.
“Colonel!” Even as she shouted the warning, Sam knew
that he had seen the sniper and was waiting. “No!” She spun around and ran. A
moment later the shot fell, and Sam had lunged into the path of the bullet. At
the same time a staff blast lanced from the roof of the barn, killing the
sniper.
She awkwardly slumped to the ground, her hands
clutching her side. With detached curiosity she stared at the blood trickling
from between her clasped fingers. Then the pain set in. It hurt. Holy Hannah,
it hurt! She drew a sharp breath and looked up.
The Colonel’s face, ashen against the overcast sky.
“Carter! For cryin’ out loud …” A hoarse whisper, rough with shock.
“Sorry, sir”, she wheezed. “Couldn’t let you … ”
Gradually, the stunned villagers had filed out into
the street, gathering around the sad tableau of the dead boy, the injured
woman, and the man still rooted to the spot. Then, from the direction of the
barn, Daniel and Teal’c came running, pushing their way through the onlookers
and into the centre of the circle.
“Dammit, Jack, don’t just stand there! What the hell
is wrong with you?!” With that, Daniel had dropped to his knees next to Sam and
eased her onto her back. “Easy now, Sam, it’ll be okay, you hear? Easy … Zeb!
Where’s Zeb?”
“Here, Daniel!” The crowd had parted to let the
surgeon pass. Zeb knelt by Daniel’s side and began examining Sam.
“My fault … my fault … my fault …” Murmuring under his
breath, Jack kept repeating the two words like some awful mantra.
Teal’c, whose hearing was sharper than most, looked at
his friend, head slightly cocked. “O’Neill, it would seem that it was the
outlaw who injured SamanthaCarter. Therefore this cannot be your fault.”
“You … don’t understand”, Jack stammered tonelessly.
“She knew …”
“You are not well, O’Neill. Perhaps you should come
away from here. SamanthaCarter is being attended to.” Teal’c reached out and
took Jack’s arm.
The physical contact finally shattered Jack’s trance.
“Don’t touch me!”, he shouted, shaking off Teal’c’s hand. “Please.” His voice
had dropped to a whisper again. “Please … it’s bad luck …”
“As you wish.” One puzzled eyebrow raised, Teal’c took
a step back, hiding his concern.
Zeb rose. “We must bring Samantha inside and make her
comfortable.”
***********************
They had taken Sam to Zeb’s
house and put her in the bedroom. The surgeon had pronounced her unfit for
transport. She’d rapidly developed a high fever, drifting in and out of
consciousness. At one point Sam heard raised voices from the next room. The
Colonel and Daniel arguing. Again.
“Why should you
want to stay? You don’t give a damn about her, about any of us, for that
matter! For all I know you’re responsible for what happened out there today. At
least leave her with a friend! I’m not going, Jack, and that’s my last -”
“Daniel! Pack your gear. You and Teal’c are moving
out. Get back to the SGC and get me Fraiser here. Now!!!”
“I’m a civilian, Jack! And I just quit! You can’t
order me about! Save it for the jarheads!”
“DanielJackson, I fail to comprehend how this
discussion contributes to the improvement of SamanthaCarter’s
condition.”
“Daniel … please … I promise you won’t have to listen
to me ever again, just follow my order, one last time. Please.” The Colonel
again, sounding tired to death.
***********************
When Sam came to, it was dusk. The house was quiet and
on the bedside table a candle had half burnt down. Her vision blurring, she
tried to get her bearings. Bedposts. Wardrobe. Fireplace. Armchair by the
window. Dark shape huddled in it.
“Sir?” It came out like a croak. Her mouth was
parched.
“Carter.” He had risen and stepped into the small
sphere of light cast by the candle. “How’re ya doin’?”
“You look like hell … sir”, she replied incongruously,
then added, “I’m thirsty.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself, you know.” The merest
shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And you’re not allowed
to drink. Doctor’s orders. This’ll help.” He had taken a linen napkin, soaked
it in a bowl of water, and carefully dabbed her lips. “Better?” he asked,
placing the napkin back into the bowl.
“A little. Thanks.” She tried to catch his eyes, but
for some reason the floor seemed to require his intense scrutiny. “Sit down,
sir. Please.” He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, his weight shifting the
mattress. Sam gave a yelp of pain but gripped his hand before he could move off
again. “Stay.”
“Bad?” He still wasn’t looking at her.
“Worse.”
“I’ve already given you a shot, but we’ve got some
morphine left …”
“No. Not just yet.”
“Janet and her merry men’ll
be here soon. Then we’ll get you home.”
“Yeah.”
The silence between them deepened. Holding on to his
hand, Sam could feel his fingers straining. “Colonel …”
“Carter?”
“I’m sorry.” That had done it, Sam noted with vague
satisfaction.
He stared at her now, his eyes wide in amazement. “You’re sorry?!”
“We’ve been giving you a pretty rough time lately -”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve. I blew it.”
“You didn’t. Not your fault.”
Her answer provoked a small, joyless laugh. “No,
nothing ever is, or so they tell me.”
The bitterness in his voice startled her. ‘And anyway,
nothing breaks Jack’ … Daniel had said it only last night. “Way, way off the
beam, Danny”, she mumbled to herself.
“What?”
“Nothing”, she said.
“Carter? … What happened out there? When -”
“- did I notice that my CO had come up with a new and
interesting way of killing himself?” she asked bluntly.
“Don’t go beating about the bush on my account,
Major.” That infuriating laconic mask of his.
He was trying to retreat behind his armour again. Sam
had known clams that were more eagerly forthcoming. But he hadn’t denied … it.
“You honestly expected me to stand by and watch and do nothing?”
“You’ll have a better time without me.” He repeated
Daniel’s words like a statement of fact.
“That’s bullshit … Colonel! And you know it!” Anger
had made her sit up, a move she immediately regretted. “Ouch! Bad idea”, she
gasped.
At least it had made the mask slip. “Shh, Sam. Don’t!”
He helped her lie back down on the pillow and checked the bandage. The wound
had started bleeding again. “I’d better get Zeb”, he said.
“No. Janet’ll be here soon.
You said so yourself.” Sam shook her head.
His fingers lightly brushed her cheek. “I know what I
said, Carter, but -”
“Please.” Sam’s hand trapped his. “I need to know …
why …?”
“Not now. You’re -” He’d pulled away.
“Yes, now … if it was us … me -”
“Sam, is that what you’re thinking? … No -”
“Then why? … Jack?” Using his first name under these
circumstances was next door to blackmail, and Sam knew it. She also knew that
this would be her only chance to make him talk. Besides, all is fair in … well,
in war, anyway. “Why?”
Jack slowly, wearily rubbed his face, before he looked
up. “It wasn’t you, Sam. It wasn’t Danny. Although that … did hurt …” He gave a
helpless little shrug. “What gave me away, anyway?”
“Your hands.” She smiled when she noticed his confused
look. “Your hands were still.”
“Oh.” Self-consciously, O’Neill gazed at his fingers,
which, as usual, had developed a life of their own, drawing spidery little
circles on the blanket. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘Oh’”, Sam echoed. “Don’t change the subject.”
There was a pause, then, “The kid … watching the boy
die was the last straw, I guess … too dumb, too slow to save him … like I
didn’t save Charlie …” At the mention of his son, a flicker of grief and
self-loathing swept across Jack’s face.
Sam winced at the pain she saw, a brief glimpse of a
private hell he normally kept well hidden. She reached out and tentatively touched
his arm.
He looked at her, holding her gaze. “The last straw …
I can’t even remember making any decision … It was like slamming into that
massive wall, again, and thinking ‘Enough!’ … I’m just so tired of being … so
damn tired all the time …” A wistful, lopsided grin.
“Tired of what?”, Sam prodded.
“Failing people … losing people, because I fail them …
losing myself … being so afraid of it …”
***********************
Sam suddenly recognised the raw fear she’d sometimes
seen in his eyes: fear of losing his friends, losing control, losing himself,
time and time again. The effects of the Ancients’ visor, Machello’s
device, infinitely worst of all: the Goa’uld … Being left behind, again, on
Edora, literally losing his whole life, only to have it all handed back to him
some three months later, just as he’d finally found a semblance of peace.
Coming home at last and being forced to gamble and lose the one thing that had
held him together all this time: the trust of his team, his friends. And then,
this morning, another child had died …
***********************
“… everything, everyone I touch gets hurt … or killed
… like some kind of curse -”
Voices outside, and a sharp rap at the front door
resonating through the house. Daniel and Teal’c had arrived with Janet Fraiser
and the medical team.
Sam practically could see the shutters crashing down.
It was as though he noticed only now what he’d been telling her, just how far
he’d opened up. He scrambled for cover. “Hey, Carter! If Florence Nightingale
was here I’d get my butt kicked! I forgot the morphine …”
It was lame by his standards, but she played along.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. ‘Peachy’!” she said with a conviction she didn’t feel,
and was pleased when it coaxed a small smile from him. “Sir?”
“Yeah.”
“About what happened?”
“Yeah?” He sounded wary, bracing for a blow.
“Nobody’ll hear it from me. It was an accident. But
promise me we’ll talk about this.”
“Sam, I -”
Footsteps racing up the stairs.
“Promise!” she hissed. She’d sat up again, and her
whole body was taut with pain.
“Alright. I promise!”
He looked utterly defeated, but he’d given his word.
With a sigh of relief Sam sank back onto the pillow, not knowing that events
would overtake the promise. The last thing she saw before she passed out again
was the door being pushed open and Janet stepping into the bedroom.
***********************
The days in the infirmary had seemed endless. From the
moment she had been wheeled out of the OR, Daniel and Teal'c had taken turns
staying with Sam, and General Hammond had dropped by occasionally. The Colonel
remained conspicuously absent. Except the first night, when Sam had woken up in
the small hours to find him sitting by her bed. He’d brusquely ordered her to
go back to sleep and left.
According to Teal’c, the mission debriefing that
morning had ‘calmed up’ considerably. Colonel O’Neill had officially tendered
his resignation which General Hammond had officially rejected, before tearing
into him for being melodramatic in his mission report, specifically where it
came to his claiming direct responsibility for Major Carter’s injury. Daniel
had seen fit to put his oar in at that point, insisting on an enquiry, and
things had got out of hand for a while. In the end the General had put SG-1 on
indefinite stand-down, to be reviewed once Sam had fully recovered and been
cleared for ‘gate travel. Until then, he’d announced with a murderous look at
O’Neill and Jackson, they were well advised to stop arguing like fishwives and
sort out their differences. Dismissed! Daniel had stormed out; Jack had
declared he was going nuts, AWOL and fishing, in that order; and Teal’c had
come to the infirmary to report to Sam before departing for the
At the end of the week Sam was released. Daniel,
clucking over her like a mother hen, had taken her home. Eventually she had
managed to get rid of him, and as soon as he’d gone, she’d phoned the Colonel.
The fact that he’d wanted to retire worried her more than she cared to admit,
even to herself. Especially to herself. She got the answer phone, left a brief
message. Over the next couple of days Sam attempted to contact him several
times, always with the same result. Finally, she drove to his house. When noone
answered the door, she tried to persuade herself that he had gone fishing after
all. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
At least SG-1’s enforced inactivity was almost over.
Tomorrow she’d have her final check-up with Janet Fraiser who’d hopefully give
her a clean bill of health, and then, maybe, they could start working on
getting things back to normal.
***********************
Part 2
The doorbell rang. “What the …? Do you know what time
it is?” Sam asked noone in particular, realising at the same time that the CD
had long run out and her bath water had gone tepid. The bell rang again. “Oh,
well …”, she muttered, climbed out of the tub, wrapped herself in a towel and
ran into the hall. “Coming”, she shouted, colliding with Daniel.
“Holy Hannah! Daniel! Do you mind?!”
“Uhm … sorry. You … uh … left your keys in the door”,
he said, dangling the evidence under her nose.
“Great. So you just let yourself in!” She snatched the
key ring from his hand.
Daniel shrugged. “Look on the bright side: I could
have been a burglar.”
“And I could have been in bed with Maybourne.”
He pondered that for a moment, then offered his
considered opinion. “Uh … nah.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence”, Sam giggled. “So,
what’s so important that you come jumping into my bathtub? On second thought,
can you save the explanations till I’ve put some clothes on? Help yourself to a
drink!” she finished, dashing into her bedroom.
“You didn’t answer my calls!” Daniel shouted from the
hall.
“I was away!” The sweatshirt she was struggling into
muffled Sam’s reply.
“You were in the bathtub”, Daniel stated as she
re-emerged from the bedroom.
“Keeping tabs on me now? So, what’s so urgent,
anyway?”
“Uh … Jack.”
Suddenly, Sam felt winded. “What about him? He’s gone
fishing, hasn’t he? Hasn’t he?!”
“Hey, are you okay? Wanna sit down?” Daniel looked
concerned.
“I’m alright. What about him?!”
“Well, either a gang of delinquent skunks has moved
into his house and trashed the place, or Jack has changed his plans and gone on
a bender instead.”
“How do you know?”
“I … uhm … left some of my stuff at his place …
thought I’d better go get it tonight before … uh … he came back. Jack’s given
me a spare key a while ago …” He trailed off, then added defiantly, “I just
didn’t feel like another shouting match, alright?!”
“And whose fault would that be?!” Sam snapped, but
before Daniel could reply, she asked, “What happened?”
“Well, I got into the house, and it looked a mess.
Smelt like it as well. Blinds drawn, enough empty bottles to keep a recycling
plant happy for a year, furniture overturned … the works. He must have gone
berserk in there.”
“What about the Colonel?!” Sam asked impatiently.
“Passed out on the landing.”
“So? What did you do?”
“What do you think I did? Found my things and got
out!”
“You left
him there?! Dammit, Daniel, sometimes I just don’t believe you!”
“Come on! He’s legless. What was I supposed to do?
Hold his head when he tosses his cookies? Besides, I called you, didn’t I?
Hell, Sam, he set me off all over again! We’re supposed to have that review
meeting with General Hammond first thing tomorrow … correction: this morning, and Mr Responsible is so
smashed he probably won’t regain consciousness for a fortnight … What are you
doing?”
Sam had walked past him, grabbed a jacket from the
coat rack and opened the door. “Shut up and drive me over there, Daniel. Now!”
“Aw, come on, Sam -”
“Now!”
Daniel gave in and sulkily trotted after her.
***********************
For the first few minutes they’d driven in angry
silence. Then Daniel stole a brief glance at Sam, noticed her tightened jaws,
hands balled to fists in her lap.
“You’re worried about Jack.” It was a statement, not a
question.
“Yep”, came the clipped reply.
“Me too”, Daniel mumbled reluctantly.
“Got a funny way of showing it.”
“Look, Sam …” He was groping for words. “It’s not that
I don’t care … maybe that’s what makes me so mad! … I care about Jack, despite
the stunts he pulled … he’s hurt you as well, don’t say he hasn’t! … I want to
believe he’s my friend, and I can’t …”
The anger had evaporated, and Daniel sounded
miserable. Sam looked at him. “Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“Daniel, a guy who tries to comfort you while you’re
waving a loaded gun in his face is
your friend. Trust me on this.”
“But then, why -”
“Because he had
to. He had his orders, and there was bit more at stake than hurt feelings. Did
you ever stop to ask yourself how he
felt?”
Daniel’s uncharacteristic reticence was answer enough.
Sam sighed. “If it’s any consolation, you weren’t the
only one. I didn’t either. We just took it for granted that he’d somehow hold
the team together, somehow make things alright, always … and before you ask,
no, it’s not in the job description. Not like this, anyway. I know the
difference, believe me. I’ve served with enough COs who couldn’t give a damn.
Colonel O’Neill isn’t like that. He cares. Too much, in fact … he can break, Daniel …”
“I didn’t mean
what I said.” Daniel blushed violently.
“Neither did he.”
***********************
They bolted out of the car and to the door. Daniel
fumbled with the keys, dropped them. “Sorry.”
“Hurry up, will you?!” Sam was on edge.
“Here we go.”
Sam pushed past him and stepped inside. “Gee, Daniel,
I’ll give you one thing: your skunk-theory has some merit … Do us all a favour
and leave that door open for now.” She flicked the light switch. Nothing.
“It’s a floor lamp”, Daniel said. “He must have
knocked it over. I’ve got a flashlight”, he offered.
She took it and switched it on. “Where is he?” The
beam crisscrossed the living room.
“Up there, last time I looked.” Daniel vaguely
gestured towards the stairs. “Mind your step, the place is a tip.”
“No kiddin’. Looks like a
bomb’s gone off in here …” Sam carefully navigated across the floor. Surveying
the bottle collection, she muttered, “Beer, scotch, claret … wow! All major
food groups.” In amongst assorted trash she noticed a few stray pages of
O’Neill’s mission report for P4X 535. So that’s what happened … She reached the
bottom of the stairs. Above her, face down on the landing, lay the Colonel. Sam
ran up the steps, crouched next to him and turned him on his back. He looked
dreadful, smelt worse. “Of all the idiotic things to do, sir …”
Sam pushed away a wisp of hair plastered to his
forehead, started when she noticed how clammy his skin felt. “Daniel!”
“What?” Daniel had come up behind her and leaned over
her shoulder.
“Something’s wrong. He’s too cold -”
“Stay with him. I’ll phone Janet.” Daniel ran back
down the stairs and disappeared in the den. A few minutes later he returned.
“She’ll be here in half an hour.” He reached down and touched Jack’s face.
“Whoa! You’re right. He’s freezing … tell you what, let’s get him in the
shower. Two birds with one stone: he’ll be presentable by the time Janet
arrives, and it’ll warm him up … Sam? Sam!”
She sat on the floor, her face slack with fear, and
was rubbing Jack’s icy hands between hers. “You promised! Dammit, sir, you
promised …”
“Sam! Are you listening? You’ve got to help me here! …
Promised what?!”
“Nothing … nothing”, she whispered.
Daniel grabbed Sam’s shoulders. “Sam, listen to me!
Sam? I need you to give me a hand. Let’s get him into the bathroom. You up to
that?”
She nodded and got to her feet.
They hoisted Jack’s limp frame up between them,
dragged him to the bathroom, and eased him back onto the floor.
“I don’t know”, Daniel said, flicking on the lights.
“Last time we had to haul his ass out of some mess, he seemed a lot heavier …”
Sam was fighting to pull the Colonel’s T-shirt over
his head and didn’t reply. Once she’d peeled it off him, she gasped. In the
harsh glare of the bathroom lights his ribs stood out sharply. He’d always been
lean, fit, but now he was thin. Too thin.
Daniel, who’d started the shower running, heard her
and turned around. He stared down at his friend in alarm. “Jack! … Jack, what
are you doing to yourself? When the hell did you last eat …?”
Together they got him out of his jeans. Daniel cleared
his throat. “Look, I can manage the … uh … rest … by myself. Why don’t you make
his bed and find something clean for him to wear?”
Obediently, Sam padded into the bedroom. It looked
pristine. If he had been sleeping at all, it hadn’t been up here. She changed the
sheets, and got a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt from the wardrobe. Then
she wandered back to the bathroom, knocked at the door. A bedraggled Daniel
opened, and the sight of him made Sam laugh despite herself. “You look like a
drowned rat!”
“Oh, thanks! You know, Jack can be one almighty pain
in the mikta at the best of times, but this
just takes the cake. It’s like handling a stoned octopus!” He wiped his
glasses, took the clothes from Sam. “And now I get to wrestle him into these.
Great! I’ll give you a shout when he’s decent.”
***********************
They’d manoeuvred Jack into his bed. He was stirring
now, his breathing less ragged than it had been. Sam stood by the bed, softly
murmuring. “Stupid, sir. Really, really stupid …”
A shout from downstairs. “Hello! Anybody home?!”
“Up here, Janet!” answered Daniel.
“Shut up and go away!” came a slurred growl from the
bed.
Daniel whirled around. “My God! It speaks!”
Just then a disgruntled Janet Fraiser gusted in.
“Obviously a swell party! If you dragged me all the way out here to dispense Alka Seltzer, so help me, I’ll -” She stopped herself when
she caught sight of Jack. “What …?!”
“Hangover. Go home”, O’Neill croaked helpfully.
“Hangover, my ass!” Janet had taken his wrist. “Pulse
is fast and irregular. For starters, I’d say his electrolytes are at a record
low. How long has he been like this?”, she asked.
Sam shook her head. “Don’t know, Janet. We found him
just before we called you. Looks like he collapsed. Janet, he -”
“Major. Doctor. He
is awake, touched by your concern, and he
would like you to leave him alone”, Jack spat. “He can look after himself!”
“The hell you can, Jack!”, snapped Daniel. “Look at
the state you’re in! He obviously hasn’t been eating, Janet, we don’t know for
how long …”
With a sharp glance at Daniel, Janet flung back the
blanket. “Impressive, Mahatma! What were you trying to do, Colonel? Kill
yourself?” She covered him.
“No! … Carter, I …”
“Okaaay.” Dr Fraiser looked
from Jack’s haggard, anxious face to Sam who had gone white as a sheet, and her
eyes narrowed. Then she turned her attention back to the Colonel. “You’ve been
hitting the bottle alright, but mostly you’ve been neglecting yourself. You’re
malnourished, dehydrated, and I doubt you can keep anything down at the moment.
I’ll have to set up a fluid IV. Some calcium won’t hurt, and a mild sedative.
You need sleep.” With that Dr Fraiser set to work.
***********************
While Janet had taken care of her surprise patient,
Sam and Daniel had begun cleaning up the mess downstairs. The doctor had left
hours ago, and Daniel had gone shopping to stock up Jack’s fridge. Sam was on
her own, sitting curled up in a tall wicker chair, watching her CO.
He’d pleaded with Janet not to give him a sedative and
fought its effects for as long as he could before falling into an uneasy sleep.
He was restless, muttering and moaning incoherently. Sam had known for a long
time that he suffered from nightmares. On missions she, Daniel, and Teal’c more
than once had had occasion to ask themselves what demons haunted his dreams.
Ever since P4X 535 she had a fair idea. Even so, she wasn’t prepared for the
agonised outcry that tore from him now.
“Sam! NO!” He’d sat up abruptly, reaching out and
almost pulling the IV line from his hand.
Without thinking, Sam had rushed over to the bed and
taken him in her arms. Holding him tight, rocking him like a child. “Shh. Shh.
It’s alright. Just a dream. It’s just a dream. I’m here.” She couldn’t get
through to him. His body was rigid, he didn’t respond, didn’t stop shaking. At
last, she let go, cupped his face in her hands, and barked, “Colonel! Look at
me! That’s an order!”
His eyes flew open, and for a moment Sam saw stark
terror. Then he focussed, recognised her, slowly relaxed. She dropped her
hands.
“I outrank you, Major”, he mumbled, closing his arms
around her and nestling his head at her shoulder.
“That’s okay, Colonel, just as long as you follow my
orders.”
“Sam”, he said softly. “Please hold me.”
Tightening her embrace, Sam rested her cheek against
his head. “I’m here, Jack. I’m holding you.”
When Daniel returned with the shopping half an hour
later, he found them still in the same position. Jack was fast asleep.
***********************
He had slept until the early evening. Just before
dinnertime, Dr Fraiser had returned to check on her patient. She’d removed the
IV and allowed O’Neill to get up. She’d prescribed some light food, too, and
Daniel had obliged by rustling up a bowl of chicken soup which Jack had eaten. Under
protest, but he had eaten.
Later they sat in the living room, talking. Daniel,
racked with guilt, was trying hard, too hard, to be the life and soul of the
party, keeping things light and carefully avoiding
the touchy subject of this latest episode. The Colonel seemed fine. ‘Seemed’
was the operative word. Sam felt grudging admiration for his skill in putting
up a nonchalant front. What was going on underneath was anybody’s guess, but
Sam was positive that it couldn’t be pleasant. Every now and again she caught a
sudden, inadvertent tightening of his mouth, a shadow of distress in his eyes.
She kept watching him surreptitiously, unable to shake a sense of worry and
helplessness. When her unease threatened to turn into open fidgeting, Sam rose
and walked out to the deck, staring into the night. After a while she heard a
light footfall on the planks, and someone leaned on the railing next to her.
“I think the boys have to sort out some things between
them, so I figured I’d make myself scarce”, Janet said. “How are you holding
up?”
“I’m okay.” Sam turned her head to look at her friend,
tried a grin.
“Sam. This is me. Janet. Talk to me! I’m your friend,
remember? Coincidentally, I’m also your doctor, and as such I’m anything but
happy with whatever it is that’s putting this kind of pressure on you.”
“Nothing’s putting pressure on me, doc. I’m just a bit
tired.”
“Tell me something, Sam. Do you and the Colonel hold
private competitions to see who can bottle up the longest and cause the most
damage whilst doing it?” When she got no reply, Janet continued, “Look, I’d
like to help. I can only guess at what’s been going on, but it’s obviously more
than meets the eye. You’ll have to talk sometime, you know. General Hammond
will -”
“The General!”, groaned Sam. “I completely forgot …
What did you tell him?!” There was a trace of panic in her voice.
“I didn’t go into any detail, just told him that
Colonel O’Neill wasn’t well.” Janet eyed her suspiciously.
Sam slowly exhaled. “How did the General … uh … take
it?”
“He wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, if you know what I
mean …” Janet sighed. “Sounded like he urgently wanted to talk to the Colonel.
I’ve calmed him down for the time being. But he’s rescheduled the review
meeting for three days from now, and he’ll want the full story. I suppose the
only one who’s in any way pleased by the news is Teal’c. It buys him some more
time with his family.”
Sam nodded. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” The doctor shrugged. “Smooth move,
by the way.”
“What?”
“Changing the subject”, Janet said archly. Her tone
became gentle again. “Come on, I know you know what’s going on, and I can see
it scares the hell out of you. Me as well, by the way. Dammit, Sam, don’t you
realise that Colonel O’Neill might have been in serious trouble if you hadn’t
found him?”
“For Pete’s sake, Janet, give me some credit!” Sam’s
fist had struck the railing. She looked at it in surprise, flexing her fingers
against the pain. Then she said in a small voice, “It’s not that I don’t trust
you, Janet … it’s just … I don’t feel I’ve got the right -”
“Sam, ever heard of doctor-patient confidentiality? I
couldn’t tell anybody, even if I wanted to. The Colonel needs help. You need
help. So, let me help!”
Sam drew a deep breath, and slowly said, “Okay, Janet
… you win.” She pushed herself away from the railing. Pacing the deck, she
recounted the events on P4X 535 in her best debriefing voice. Clipped, cool,
controlled.
“My God”, whispered Janet. “You knew, and you
deliberately …”
Sam interrupted her pacing, came to a halt. “What was
I supposed to do? Watch him … die …?” The disciplined façade had crumbled. She
choked on the word. “I’d rather be … I … I need him …”
“That’s one way of putting it”, the doctor muttered
wryly. She took Sam by the arms. “Sam, listen. I think I know what this is. And
I can help. I’m only amazed that it
hasn’t happened earlier … Anyway, I need to look into this -”
“If he finds out I told you -”
“He won’t. In the first instance, it’ll be a ‘routine’
blood test, except I’ll check for -”
Janet was cut off by loud clatter and a thud from
inside the house. “What the …?!”
She ran into the living room. Sam followed. They were
greeted by a sight that stopped them dead in their tracks. On the floor sat
Colonel O’Neill and Dr Jackson. Jack was holding his chin, Daniel was massaging
the knuckles on his right hand, and both stared sheepishly at the two women.
“We were only …”
“We’re just …”
They’d started speaking together, looked at each
other, then finished in unison, “… talking!”
“Uhunh”, said Janet. “I can see that. And may I ask
what precisely you were ‘talking’ about?”
Jack blinked. “Uh … we were discussing a little …
philosophic difference of opinion Daniel seemed upset about. You know, black
ops and need-to-know and stuff. I told him to hit me, if it’d make him feel
better.” He squinted at Daniel. “If I’d known you pack that kind of punch I
wouldn’t have offered!”
“Jack, I’m so sorry!” Daniel had turned a startling
shade of crimson. “I guess I really was mad at you …”
“Ya think?!”
Sam bit her lip. “Doctor, is it true that the gene for
stupidity in humans is located on the Y-chromosome?”
Janet nodded severely. “Oh yes! I distinctly remember
reading it in some medical journal.”
“Hey, no sexist jokes, please”, Daniel managed.
“It wasn’t a joke!” snapped Janet. “Dr Jackson, God
help you if I ever catch you hitting
one of my patients again, no matter how mad you are at them. And as for you,
Colonel … ah! Why do I even try? Get out of here, the pair of you!”
They scrambled to their feet and slunk past Sam and
Janet who stood either side of the door, fighting to keep their faces straight
while the men escaped out onto the deck.
“Uh … Jack?” Daniel tapped Jack’s shoulder. “Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“I lied about drawing straws.”
Sam smiled. The ludicrous little scene had had a feel
of normalcy to it that she had been missing for months. And Daniel and the
Colonel were talking again. As opposed to shouting at each other. Maybe
everything was going to be alright after all.
***********************
Three days later SG-1 had assembled in the briefing
room, waiting for General Hammond to arrive. Jack was edgy, fiddling with a
pen, letting it twirl around his fingers. Finally he took aim and launched it
at the water pitcher that stood at the other end of the conference table. The
pen gracefully spiralled through the air and, with a delicate ‘plop’, landed in
the pitcher and sank.
“Bull’s eye”, Colonel O’Neill said drily. Then, “This
is like being back at school, waiting for exam results when you know you’ve
screwed up.” With a nod at Sam he added, “Not that you’d be familiar with the
experience, Carter.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, sir.” She grinned.
Teal’c, the obligatory eyebrow arched, inquired, “Why
would results of which you are cognizant already cause you nervous
anticipation, O’Neill?”
“Hope, Teal’c!” exclaimed Jack. “Hope in the face of
disaster!”
“I see”, Teal’c said gravely, making it perfectly
clear that he didn’t.
At that moment, General Hammond stormed into the
briefing room like the proverbial bear with the sore head. Followed by Doctors
Fraiser and McKenzie, and Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, of all unwelcome guests.
As SG-1 stood to attention, Sam cast a questioning glance at Janet who replied
with a tight-lipped, angry shake of the head. Trouble.
The General nodded curtly, and sat down. “At ease,
people.”
There was shuffling around the table as they all took
their seats.
Without preamble, the General said, “Your last mission
has caused waves in certain quarters at
Ignoring Daniel’s apologetic look at Jack,
Too late, Sam grasped what those crumpled pages she’d
found in the Colonel’s living room had been all about. He’d re-written the
report. She rose. “With respect, sir, that was my idea. If there was any
encouraging done, it was by me! Sir!”
“Shut up, Carter, will you!” groaned Jack. “And sit
down!”
Samuels muscled in. “With your permission, General.
Major Carter, what concerns me and my superiors is not the question of who
encouraged whom to do what. That is hardly relevant at this stage. What is relevant, however, is that in your
original reports neither you nor Colonel O’Neill cared to mention some minor,
but vital details … such as the fact that you, Major, were injured while
preventing your commanding officer’s suicide!”
Daniel virtually erupted from his chair. “That’s …
that’s the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard in my life!” he shouted,
spluttering. “It’s ridiculous! That Brylcreemed ferret over there has had it in for Jack from the word ‘go’,
but this is idiotic even by Samuels’ standards. It’s –”
“Daniel! Calm down!” Dr Fraiser’s voice cut through
his tirade like a whip lash.
“Calm down?! Calm down and do what, Janet?! Listen to
more of this garbage? I’d like to know what’s going on here …”
Daniel, Janet, and General Hammond kept yelling,
McKenzie kept drumming an annoying tattoo on the table, Samuels kept smirking,
Teal’c kept quiet. Sam tuned it all out and gazed at O’Neill. He sat,
grey-faced, his eyes closed, clutching a pencil so hard that his knuckles had
turned white. The only movement she saw was the slight tremor of his hands.
This was the last thing he needed. Why hadn’t Janet warned them? Why did the
General allow this to happen? And why the hell hadn’t the Colonel told her that
he’d changed his mission report? They could have talked to General Hammond in
private. Anything would have been better than this circus.
The pencil snapped in two. “Daniel.” O’Neill had
spoken softly, but his tone held an urgency that got their attention. He looked
up, found Daniel’s eyes. “It’s true, Danny.”
In the ensuing hush, Daniel sluggishly sat back down.
“Why, Jack? … Dammit! … Why?” he stammered.
Before Jack had a chance to say anything, Samuels
barged in again. “I think that’s a very apposite question. Colonel, would you
care to enlighten us? I’m sure everyone here -”
“General! Please! This is not the time, nor the place,
nor the company!” Janet glared at
Samuels.
He wasn’t deterred. “With respect, General! This is the time, the place, and the
company. I was sent here to investigate what’s beginning to look like … well,
frankly, the worst dereliction of duty I’ve ever come across in my career. I am
obliged to find out what motivated this man!”
“Lieutenant Colonel Samuels!”
Samuels opened his mouth, but the General anticipated
him. “This is final! And a word of
advice, mister: if I had a yellow streak a mile wide, I’d think twice before
accusing a fellow officer of ‘dereliction of duty’! Do we understand each
other?”
Amazingly, Samuels had the decency to blush. He tried
to cover his embarrassment and poured himself a glass of water, focussing on
the open mission report in front of him. “Very well”, he said at last. “In view
of General Hammond’s decision, I would like to ask Major Carter to give us her
version of events. The correct version, please, Major”, he couldn’t resist
adding.
It was the juncture Sam had been dreading since she’d
realised where this meeting was going. Her CO was being crucified, and they
were asking her to supply the tools. The Colonel’s eyes met hers, and he nodded
almost imperceptibly. Sam shook her head just as slightly. He frowned, about to
speak.
Samuels chose that precise moment to take a sip of
water and proceeded to spit out a pen.
Teal’c, who had had been watching with interest,
announced palpably disappointed, “My wish was that it should asphyxiate him.”
A noise like a strangled sob came from Daniel’s end of
the table, and Janet coughed discreetly.
“It’s ‘I was hoping he’d choke on it’, Teal’c”, corrected
O’Neill. He looked at Sam whose mouth had started twitching. “Go on, Carter”,
he said gently. “That’s an order.”
Instantly, the precious glow of amusement faded. Sam
pulled herself together. Just as she had a few nights ago, she gave a brisk,
outwardly unemotional account of what had happened on P4X 535, omitting only
what the Colonel had told her that evening. It was all she could do to shield
him, and she already knew that it would be woefully inadequate.
When she had finished, Samuels stared at her
appraisingly. “So, let’s recapitulate, Major”, he said after a brief pause.
“You became aware of your commanding officer’s intent when you noticed both the
sniper and the fact that Colonel
O’Neill had seen him. And instead of ensuring the safety of the other two team
members, you, the second-in-command, decide to leave them leaderless in order
to … What? Save your lover?”
“Excuse me?”, Sam breathed.
“Oh, come on, Major”, retorted Samuels, “spare us the
histrionics. I think we’re all only too aware of the rumours.”
Before anyone could react, O’Neill had slammed Samuels
into the wall and clamped his forearm across the man’s throat, pinning him up
like an insect. “You’ve just accused my 2IC of a court-martialable offence, you
son of a bitch”, Jack whispered. “I don’t give a damn about what you do to me.
But. You. Will. Not. Harm. My. Team.” His voice was perfectly calm, but with
each word he increased the pressure on Samuels’ larynx.
“Leave him alone, son”,
Slowly, Jack let go of Samuels and turned around. He
was struggling for control. Sam could see confusion in his eyes, shock and
disbelief. She was startled herself. This wasn’t like him.
“Yes, sir”, O’Neill said at last and unsteadily walked
back to his seat.
Samuels, still gagging, slicked back his hair, and
gave a faint, triumphant smile. Sam was the only one who noticed. Her mind was
racing. Suddenly she understood that this had been part of whatever game plan
Samuels was following. It wasn’t really about what happened on P4X 535. That
was merely an added bonus, making the job easier. Whoever was behind this was
gunning for the Colonel. Oh God, sir! You played straight into the bastard’s
hands! You did exactly what he’d
hoped you’d do …
“General, I rest my case”, grunted Samuels. “Colonel
O’Neill is clearly unfit for command! I demand -”
“Lieutenant Colonel!”, the General cut in. “Apart from
idle gossip, do you have any hard evidence that officers of my command have
been violating regulations?”
“No, sir”, Samuels said.
“Then you will apologise to Colonel O’Neill and Major
Carter.”
“Sir! I -”
“Now!”
“Colonel. Major. I apologise”, Samuels mumbled, then
raised his voice. “General, I insist that you hear me out. I appreciate your
loyalty to your officers, believe me. But even you have to admit that Colonel
O’Neill’s behaviour, both on this last mission and just now, proves that he is
a danger to himself and to others. He is not fit for command, sir, and I assure
you I have the backing of my superiors when I demand he be relieved from duty
and detained.”
There it was. General Hammond had no grounds to
refuse. The Colonel himself had effectively destroyed that option. No way out.
Looking around the table, Sam studied the other faces, hoping for some reassurance.
Teal’c, stoic Teal’c, was rattled. The General defeated and knowing it. Samuels
gloating, predictably. McKenzie fascinated, furiously taking notes.
Incomprehension and grief in Daniel’s eyes. The Colonel’s face drawn and
unreadable. Janet … defiant?
“General, if I may”, spoke up Dr Fraiser. “Colonel
O’Neill is showing clear symptoms of post-traumatic stress. Looking at SG-1’s
missions and the Colonel’s own experiences over the past months, that’s hardly
surprising -”
“My heart bleeds!” Samuels snarled. “He’s a
professional soldier. Unpleasantness comes with the territory! I’m not going to
mince words: Colonel O’Neill has gone insane. You’ve all witnessed his attack
on me.”
Sam thought she heard Daniel muttering. “If anything,
that’s proof positive of his sanity …”
“Given the stressors of even a single mission, it’s a
small miracle something like this hasn’t happened sooner”, Janet continued
doggedly, ignoring the interruptions. “But we’re dealing with a physiological response that causes
mental side-effects, not a mental
illness. The Colonel’s latest blood sample has tested abnormally high for norepinephrine, which is fairly typical. It’s the body’s
way of triggering a fight-or-flight-response. Point is, suicide attempts can be
linked to raised noradrenaline levels, and that would
explain what happened on P4X 535. Other symptoms include anxiety, heightened
aggression, sleeplessness, emotional withdrawal, and substance abuse, alcohol
in this case. Not pretty, granted, but treatable -”
“Dr Fraiser, with the greatest respect”, McKenzie
spoke for the first time, cutting off Janet. “You’re the CMO, not a
psychiatrist. I’d appreciate it if psychiatric evaluations were left to me. In
return I promise not to perform any appendectomies in your OR. The symptoms you
listed allow for any number of diagnoses. I regret having to agree with Mr
Samuels: Colonel O’Neill is unfit for command, and I strongly recommend he be
placed under my care -”
“No way!!”, yelped Daniel. “That’s the best guarantee
that he’ll end up mental!”
“- for further observation and treatment”, McKenzie
finished.
“Thank you, Dr McKenzie. I respect your frankness.”
Samuels oozed complacency. “However, considering that Colonel O’Neill is
something like the SGC’s golden boy, I’m afraid that misplaced
sympathy in diagnosis and treatment might have an adverse effect on his chances
of recovery. I believe that in the long run it’ll be far better for all
concerned if he is taken to a secure institution to be assessed and treated
independently.”
“Out of the question!”, General Hammond snapped.
Janet made a last attempt. “Dr McKenzie! You know a
safe, familiar environment is crucial -”
“In treating post-traumatic stress, PTSD, and related
disorders. Which we don’t know that we’re dealing with here!” McKenzie was
stonewalling, obviously determined to win his private little turf-war at any
cost.
The General had risen. “Lieutenant Colonel! Doctors!
Right now I couldn’t care less about your respective opinions. Last time I
checked I was still in command of this facility, and I’m saying Colonel O’Neill
stays right here.”
“General”, Samuels replied. “Why don’t we let Colonel
O’Neill decide? If I could have a word with him? Alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright. Everybody else, please step outside.” The
General led the way.
***********************
Sam couldn’t actually remember leaving the room. She
felt drained. Cold. So cold. Leaning back against the wall, she hugged herself.
McKenzie had departed. Good riddance. Janet was anxiously whispering to General
Hammond who seemed to be only half-listening, if at all. Teal’c stood with his
eyes closed, meditating who knew what. Daniel, incessantly muttering to
himself, was wearing a groove in the concrete floor. A morbid parody of a
maternity ward’s waiting room. Sam snorted, and they all stared at her.
“What?!” hissed Daniel.
“General?” Sam asked slowly, tiredly. God, even
speaking hurt! “That kangaroo court in there? Would you mind explaining?
Letting us in on the agenda?”
“I’d love to, Major”,
“Well, can’t you do anything?” Daniel urged. “Like,
call the President?”
The General grimaced. “Why do you think I was late, Dr
Jackson? The President is currently unavailable … Seems to be doing that a lot
lately, whenever it hits the fan”, he added, vexed.
“So, we just sit around like a bunch of lemons and let
it happen? Dammit, do something,
sir! You owe him. We all do!” Sam
was shouting. Shouting at a two-star general. Sweet, Carter! That’ll help heaps
… And why did she keep hearing the Colonel’s voice, anyway?
“Major!”
“I know, sir. I’m sorry.” Sam blushed. “But why …?”
Daniel had resumed his pacing. “Aw, come on, Sam! Wake
up! Smell reality! They’re military, they don’t need a reason!”
“No, they’re not, son”,
The door to the briefing room opened, and Samuels
strutted out. “General? If you’d be so kind as to arrange for an escort to
surface level, where my people are waiting. Colonel O’Neill has agreed to come
with me.”
“If he has agreed
to come with you, you won’t need an escort!” the General replied coldly.
Jack O’Neill stood in the doorframe, eyes fixed on the
opposite wall. “Request permission to accompany Lieutenant Colonel Samuels,
sir.”
“Nooo!” Daniel howled. “You
can’t, Jack! It’s -”
“Are you sure about this, Colonel?”, the General
asked.
“Yes, sir. With your permission, I’d like to get some
things from my quarters.”
“Go on, son.”
Jack started down the hall without looking at anyone,
Samuels tagging along at his heels.
“Yes, General?” Samuels had skidded to a startled
halt.
“You will respect the Colonel’s privacy. Mr Teal’c, Dr
Jackson. Show this officer to the mess hall. You can wait there for Colonel
O’Neill.” With that,
“I suggest you obey General Hammond’s request”, Teal’c
observed serenely, when Samuels tried to say something. “I must inform you that
I would not have shown as much restraint as Colonel O’Neill, had you placed me
in the same predicament.”
Samuels opened and shut his mouth several times.
Finally he nodded, and they left for the mess.
When they’d turned the corner, Janet asked wearily,
“Now what?”
“Now I go talk to the Colonel”, Sam said. “He can’t do
this!”
***********************
“Come.”
Sam entered and shut the door. O’Neill was at his
desk, with his back to her, packing a bag.
“Hi, sir”, she said uncertainly.
“Got the short straw, Major? … What can I do for you?”
Sam frowned. He was in full, obnoxious ‘Colonel Mode’.
Not good. She took a deep breath. “Don’t go, sir.”
“Major! Why is it that I have to debate each and every
one of my decisions with you? Anyone ever talk to you about chain of command?”
He’d spun around, facing her angrily.
She glared right back at him. “Sir! It’s a trap! You
were set up!”
“I know,
Carter! I may be a few shells short of a depot, but I’m not that stupid!”
Marginally better. The Colonel calling her ‘Carter’
was definitely … better. Maybe she was getting somewhere. “You’re anything but
stupid, and you’re not crazy, either, sir. So why do something that’s both stupid and crazy?”
“’Lunatic fringe’, remember, Carter?”
Oh yeah. She’d been wondering when he’d dig up that
one. But the glower had wavered just a little. “Don’t do it, sir. Please!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, Carter?! You going mother
hen on me?”
“Why break the habit of a life-time, sir?” Sam smiled,
but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Jack sighed. “Carter! Come here!” He grabbed the
collar of Sam’s shirt, led her to his bunk and sat her down. Then he slumped on
the bed next to her.
“Carter, I screwed up. You should know that better than anybody. Okay, so maybe Doc
Fraiser has a point with what she says about my doo-dahs
being out of whack. But … and
believe me, it goes against the grain having to admit this … Samuels has a
point, too. I should have handled whatever was happening to me, and I didn’t.
Ah! … Ah!” He raised a finger when she tried to interrupt him. “Listen to me!
Why do you think I revised that mission report? When the General didn’t accept
my resignation, I had to own up. I put you in danger. Ah! Don’t say it! …
“What if they don’t say it?”
“Then I’m not coming back, Carter. Simple. Doesn’t
take an astrophysicist to figure that one out.”
“Sir -”
“Besides, somebody out there wants my ass in a sling.
Things like that tend to make me kinda cranky. If I do what Samuels wants me
to, I might be able to find out who it is and shut them down.” He rose and went
back to packing.
“You’re a lousy liar, Colonel. What did Samuels say to
you in there?” Sam had gone after him and gripped
his arm. “You’re in no condition to play hard-ball with these guys, and you
know it. They might mess you up for good, and you know that too, but you’re
still going. Why? Talk to me! Dammit, sir, I’m worried sick about you!” Oh,
hell! Now she was fighting back tears …
“Carter …” He pulled her close, put his arms around
her. “Hey … Sam! … Majors don’t cry -”
“Yes, they do. ‘Mulish CO insisting on doing damn-fool
thing’ is Number 3 on the list …”, she mumbled, returning his embrace.
“Touché …” A soft laugh. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Now
get out of here, I’ve got to finish up!” He’d let go and opened the door,
looking at her. “Go, Carter. Out!”
Sam detected something distressingly familiar in his
eyes. The Colonel’s patented I know this
is probably real bad for me, but it’s better for you look she’d learned to
hate in
“Yes, sir”, she said and left.
Halfway down the hall it dawned on Sam how elegantly
he’d avoided answering her question. For someone who so thoroughly distrusted
anything starting with ‘psych’, O’Neill was very adept at it.
***********************
Samuels got his escort after all, albeit different
from what he might have expected. Without having discussed it, Daniel, Teal’c,
and Sam had all converged on the elevator when the time came for O’Neill to be
taken away. A fretting Samuels at his shoulder, Jack, in none too polite terms,
had tried to persuade them to stay behind. It was one argument he’d lost.
When they reached the ground level lobby, they
realised why he had been so adamant. Samuels’ goons were standing by. Only the
Colonel’s wry look stopped Teal’c from permanently damaging US military
personnel when Samuels ordered O’Neill to be straight-jacketed.
“Told you. Now behave, kids! I don’t want to hear any
complaints.” With an entirely unconvincing grin at his team, Jack turned and
let the MPs tie the sleeves behind his back. They shoved him through the door,
out into the parking lot, where a van was waiting, engine running already. Jack
tripped as he tried to climb in and, unable to use his hands to steady himself,
almost fell. The MPs roughly pulled him upright and pushed him into the van.
They got in after him, followed by Samuels. The doors closed behind them, and
the vehicle sped off.
Daniel, Teal’c, and Sam watched until the van
disappeared round a bend in the tunnel. In a small, helpless voice, Daniel
asked, “He’ll be alright, won’t he? He’ll come back?”
Sam put a reassuring arm around his waist. “’Course
he’ll be alright, Daniel! They’ll get so sick of his forever kicking up a fuss,
they’ll send him back in no time!” If it hadn’t been for the terrifying murmur
in her head that kept telling her the exact opposite, she could almost have
believed her own lie.
Later she’d tried to analyse the avalanche of emotions
that threatened to bury her. Good old-fashioned rage, check. Numbing sadness,
check. Complemented by hefty side order of pure fear, check. Something that
shouldn’t be there at all, check … Check?!
***********************
A week went by without any news. At first, Sam had
been telling herself every time she came on duty that today would be the day:
there’d be a message, he’d be back even. After a few days that hope had worn
thin. What was left of SG-1 had ceaselessly badgered the General to tell them
O’Neill’s whereabouts at least, but
Then General Hammond had called them in for a
briefing. Perhaps there were some news at last, good news, preferably. One look
at his face as they filed in persuaded them otherwise. With him in the briefing
room was a freshly scrubbed Air Force Colonel in dress uniform, complete with
moderately impressive salad bar.
“Take a seat, people”,
The General uneasily scanned the faces around the
table, as though expecting a palace revolt. There was none. The fight had been
knocked out of all of them. Even Daniel, who not so long ago had gone ballistic
when Makepeace had taken over SG-1, just nodded dejectedly.
Teal’c was the only one who spoke up. “Have you
received tidings of O’Neill’s situation, General?”
“No, Teal’c.”
***********************
The kindest thing that could be said about Delaney was
that he kept himself to himself. Otherwise he loathed female officers,
thoroughly despised civilian scientists, and was a card-carrying xenophobe.
Ideal command profile for SG-1, Sam found herself thinking more than once. It
was immeasurably worse than serving with Robert Makepeace who at least had made
some effort to accommodate their somewhat unorthodox team. Well, mostly, anyway
… And while the Marine had never been an avid fan of Jack O’Neill’s, he’d shown
a healthy dose of respect for the Colonel.
Not so Delaney. Of course he knew what had happened.
Who didn’t?! His digs about ‘Colonel O’Nuts’ were
unending, and when he realised how it affected Teal’c, Daniel and Sam, they
became increasingly spiteful. Until Teal’c had lost even the last remnant of
his infinite supply of patience and flattened Delaney. After that Delaney
watched his mouth, and he’d never reported the incident, knowing full well that
he couldn’t expect any support from General Hammond.
That night they’d thrown a party at Sam’s place, with
Teal’c as the guest of honour. Sam smiled at the memory. Contrary to his usual
habits, Teal’c had been ‘prevailed upon to imbibe’, as he chose to phrase it,
and for reasons best known to itself his symbiote seemed to have been inclined
to join the party. The results had been nothing short of spectacular. After the
third bottle of beer he’d felt compelled to treat them to a
“You’d have loved it, sir”, Sam said.
No, no, no, no! Stop it, Carter! He’s not here! You’re
at home, it’s twelve o’clock at night, and tomorrow you get to go on another
merry jaunt with Delaney. Won’t that be fun?!
It had been nearly a month now, and they still didn’t
know where or, more pertinently, how the Colonel was. When General Hammond had
run into one wall after another with his enquiries, Sam had begun to contact
former colleagues from her time at the Pentagon, getting them to do some
creative snooping. They’d tracked down a plethora of candidates with any number
of ‘l’s, all in precisely circumscribed locations and in the pink of health,
but came up completely empty on one Jonathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill, with two ‘l’s and
a sense of humour.
Then, three days ago, it had ended. General Hammond
had received an irate phone call from a creditable source in
The threat, more than the uncommonly harsh
dressing-down she’d received from the General, had prompted Sam to call off the
search immediately. She still hadn’t told Daniel and Teal’c … hell, she’d
barely told herself. Confronting it would mean to confront the fact that they’d
lost, that there was nothing else they could do … that they had to leave Jack
O’Neill behind. And she wasn’t ready to let it come to that. Not yet, not now,
not ever. Yeah, right! Top marks on determination, Carter! And what exactly are
you doing about it?
“Squat! Squat! Squat!”,
Sam yelled in frustration, hurling her coffee mug at the wall. Too late she
realised that it had been the much-loved, unbelievably tacky Wizard of Oz mug the Colonel had given
her last Christmas. She ran across the room to where it had fallen and picked
up two of the shards. Staring in disbelief at the pieces in her hands, she
slowly slid down the wall, until she sat in a puddle of coffee on the floor.
Funny, she thought … A shattered mug had achieved what
four weeks of anguish, foundered hopes, and missing him hadn’t … Dorothy, the
Lion, and the Tin Man were grinning inanely from the shard in her right. The
Scarecrow had broken off. And Sam had finally broken down.
She clutched the small piece in her left as hard as
she could, barely noticing that it cut her palm. “Dear Scarecrow”, she whispered
between sobs. “Dear, dear Scarecrow …”
The phone rang. Kept ringing, ringing. She hadn’t
switched on the answerphone. Sam struggled to her
feet, wiping her face with the back of her hand, holding on to the shard. She
stumbled to the phone, picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
“Major Carter?” The voice sounded familiar, but Sam
was just that fraction away from placing it.
“Speaking. Who is this?”
“At a guess, your least favourite person, Major.”
Suddenly it clicked. Sam tried to think of some
suitable invective to shout at him before she hung up but failed to unearth
anything quite obscene enough.
“Please, Major, don’t hang up. This is important! I’m
risking my neck by calling you.”
“I’m … listening!” she said cagily.
“Major, I need to see you.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish to God I were, believe me, Major, and I’m not
calling for a date. This concerns a mutual acquaintance. Someone who … left
town a while ago.”
Sam held her breath. “Where? And when?”, she asked at
last.
“There’s a truck stop on the I-25 about 20 miles south
of
“I’ll be there.”
She hung up, grabbed her car keys, and raced out of
the door. As she got into her car, Sam noticed that she was still clutching the
Scarecrow. She smiled and carefully slipped the little shard into her shirt
pocket.
***********************
Part 4
Sam sped down the
Interstate, telling herself that this was flying in the face of all common
sense and rules of safety. If it was another set-up, Samuels could make her
vanish and nobody’d ever be any the wiser. Truth was, she didn’t care. If he
could tell her anything at all, it was worth the risk.
There, up
ahead, that had to be it. A neon flourish advertised Crazy George’s. She giggled. Too right. A certain George S Hammond
would sure as hell go crazy if he had an inkling of what Major Carter was up to
now!
As she pulled
in, she scanned the parking lot. A couple of battered trucks, a jeep on the
brink of losing several wheels, including the spare, and a beige sedan that
hollered ‘Government issue’. So, Samuels was early. Bad field craft, Lieutenant
Colonel.
Sam parked her
car next to the sedan, got out, and warily walked to the door and into the
truck stop. The place was deserted as a church on payday. A few lone punters
dotted about at the tables, and over in the farthest booth a middle-aged slob
in a tracksuit … Whoa! … Cute, Samuels! Got a gift for camouflage, have we?
He rose when
he saw her approaching, gauchely motioning her to take a seat. “Thank you for
coming, Major.”
She sat down
and eyed him skeptically. He looked like a deer in the headlights, scared out
of his wits. No, this definitely wasn’t a set-up. Samuels was capable of a
thing or two, but he couldn’t act to save his life. “So”, she said at last,
“what was it made you grow a spine, Samuels?”
“This.” He
slid a CD case across the table.
Sam threw a
glance at the cover. “Dolly Parton. Yeah, definitely
invigorating, I can see that. Cut the crap, Samuels. Where is Colonel O’Neill?”
“I don’t know.
I swear I don’t … Look, in there is the copy of a DVD I was asked to deliver to
the people I work for. It’s … it’s not pretty … oh, hell, it’s … I never meant
for anything like this to happen …” He ran a hand through his hair, shook his
head.
“What exactly
is … ‘this’, Samuels?” Sam asked reluctantly. Oh please, don’t let him be dead
…
Samuels
ignored her question, unwilling or unable to answer. “You have to believe me,
if I’d had any idea, I wouldn’t have … no matter what you think, I’m not a
total swine … it’s no secret that I never cared much for O’Neill. When they
told me he had to go, be removed from the SGC, hell, I volunteered for the job!
I mean, three years ago the arrogant bastard just waltzed into the assignment I
wanted … couldn’t set a foot wrong, until P4X 535 … We hadn’t dared to hope for
an opportunity presenting itself that quickly … Talk about a Godsend! … You can
tell your Dr Fraiser she was right, by the way, we’d suspected post-traumatic
stress from the start. All I had to do was push his buttons, make it look like
he’d gone over the edge, the rest was easy … I thought, perfect, tour in the
nuthouse for him, then discharge, and there’s an end to it … If I’d known …”
“Dammit,
Samuels, what happened?!” Sam
shouted, sick of the man’s rambling self-pity.
“Keep your
voice down, Major, for God’s sake!” Samuels nervously stared at the other
guests, but noone paid any attention. He turned back to Sam. “O’Neill
disappeared from the hospital I’d been ordered to check him into. No trace. There
wasn’t even a record of admission. When I asked what was going on, they told me
to mind my own and forget the whole thing.”
“Who are those
people you work for?”
“No idea,
Major. I don’t have any names, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t give them
to you. All I can tell you is that it’s some very black, very influential
political group -”
“The people behind Maybourne’s little souvenir hunting
operation”, Sam breathed. “We know the Colonel made someone very high up very
unhappy when he closed that one down … This is about revenge?”
“That’s not
the half of it. When O’Neill’s sting was successful, they realised that they’d
never stand a chance of achieving their goals without actually infiltrating the
SGC at top command level. One of the biggest stumbling blocks was O’Neill, so
they made him … go away, in order to get one of their own men in.”
“Delaney.”
“Yes. But
there’s something else. About four weeks ago, the same time that O’Neill
disappeared, your friend Harry Maybourne was sent back to his old stomping
grounds. Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
Sam’s eyes
widened. “You’re saying that Colonel O’Neill may be held at
“Being ‘held’
is a euphemism, if I ever heard one.” Samuels squirmed. “And I already told you
I don’t know where he is. It’s an
educated guess, nothing more. Point is, according to this” - Samuels tapped the
CD case - “somebody’s trying their damndest to get some kind of specific
information out of O’Neill. Apparently without success, so far … which is the
only reason why they’re keeping him alive, I reckon.”
Sam picked up
the case and opened it. The small iridescent disc inside looked so innocuous.
“So, what’s on there?”
“Major, don’t
pretend to be naïve! What do you think it is? It contains ‘interrogation’
records, taped two days ago. Believe me, I wish I’d never laid eyes on it. But
what do you know, I got curious … Made me sick. I don’t like the man, never
have, but this … wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Anyway, I decided you
should see this. I made a copy, flew down here, and called you. Take it, do
with it what you will. Maybe you can find a clue to his whereabouts somewhere
on there. I don’t want anything more to do with this … I’d better get going.”
He rose.
Sam felt the
blood drain from her face as she finally allowed herself to comprehend what
Samuels was talking about. She carefully closed the lid on the CD case,
blinking at the absurd impropriety of Dolly Parton’s
gleaming smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel”, she said tonelessly.
“One more
thing, Major.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about
Delaney. They don’t intend to have him stay 2IC of the SGC forever, if you
catch my drift …”
“But General
Hammond -”
“Major, you
still don’t get it! Either
“Lieutenant
Colonel! One more question, please?” Sam was pleading, hating herself for it.
“What?”
“How did you
get Colonel O’Neill to come with you? What did you tell him?”
Samuels
laughed. “You mean he hasn’t said anything to you? My, my, chivalry isn’t dead
after all …” He leaned on the table, bringing his face within an inch of Sam’s.
“Major, I told O’Neill he’d either agree to come with me, or I’d have you up on charges for dereliction of
duty. He took some convincing, but eventually I got him to believe that we
could make it stick … It’s ironic, don’t you think, how you can make a man’s
loyalty work against him?”
Sam didn’t
answer, didn’t even notice that Samuels had left. She sat at the table, staring
blindly, unable to gather a single coherent thought, except one: she had caused
this. Suddenly a savage wave of nausea hit her. She grabbed the CD case and
stumbled to the ladies’ room. Kneeling in the filthy cubicle, she started
retching, throwing up until nothing but bile came.
At last she got up, her teeth chattering, and painfully made her way into the
restaurant.
The barmaid
smiled at her with practised sympathy. “Been ditched, babe?”
“What?! … Oh …
yeah … no …” She had to get out of here. Out, out, out.
Somewhere in
her mind Jack O’Neill’s voice began echoing. “Think of something!”
***********************
“Open the
door! Daniel! Open, or I’ll kick it down. Daniel!!!” Sam’s fist was pounding
the door to
Daniel’s
neighbour stuck his head out. “Can it, lady, will ya?! You got any idea what
time it is?”
Thump-thump-thump.
“Daniel! Wake up, dammit!” Thump-thu-
Her last blow
nearly decked Daniel who’d opened, squinting at her bleary-eyed and drowsy with
sleep. “Sam …?”
“You know this
… lady?” the neighbour groused. “Figures! Maybe you explain to her that at this
time of night people are asleep, normal
people, anyway -”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah …”, Daniel muttered, pulled Sam inside and closed the door on the man’s
complaining. He switched on the lights and with one look at her came wide
awake. “Jeez, Sam! What’s the matter? You look like you’ve been to hell and
back!”
“Not yet”, she
mumbled. “So far I only kinda got the brochure …” She steadied herself against
the wall. “Daniel, can I just sit down, please? I’m not feeling so good …”
“Sure … come
on.” Daniel led her to his cluttered living room, where he burst into some
frantic cosmetic tidying. “Uh … sorry … meant to clean up -”
“Daniel! …
It’s fine. Doesn’t matter. Okay?” She sat on the sofa, burying her face in her
hands.
Daniel stood
in the centre of the room, unsure of what to do. “’kay … I’ll get you some
water”, he said at last and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later he was
back, sat down next to Sam and held out a glass. “Here …” He nudged her.
Slowly, she
reached out to take the glass, wrapped both hands around it and drank in deep
gulps.
Daniel watched
her. “Want to tell me what brought you here at three o’clock in the morning?”
he asked gently.
“I talked to
Samuels.”
“That’s enough
to upset anybody … And?”
Sentence by
hesitant sentence, Daniel wormed the whole story out of her. Almost the whole
story. Sam didn’t tell him what Samuels had revealed to her at the end.
When she had
finished, Daniel leaned back, closed his eyes. “Oh, shit …”, he whispered. “So,
now what?”
“I don’t know
…”
“Sam, we’ll have to check out that DVD.”
“What for?! To
watch him being -” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. As long as she didn’t
say it, didn’t see it, she could pretend it wasn’t true.
“Stop it, Sam!
This isn’t like you!” Daniel was implacable. “You’re a scientist, so face
facts. Jack is being held somewhere. From what you’re telling me, he’s being
tortured. Yes, Sam! Tortured! Running away from facts isn’t going to help
anybody, least of all Jack.” He picked up the DVD, held it up to her face.
“This … Look at it! … This is
evidence. What do we do with evidence? We examine it! And with any kind of
luck, it’ll tell us where he is, and then we can go and get him out … Sam, if
Jack were here, what would he say to you?”
“Easy.” She
smiled a little. “He’d say, ‘Think of something!’”
“Exactly! You
can start doing just that while I go change into something more publicly
acceptable than pyjama-bottoms. Then we drive to the base. We need Teal’c, and
we need the lab equipment there.”
Sam nodded.
***********************
When they
reached Teal’c’s quarters, he was sitting on his bunk, apparently expecting
them, alerted by whatever sixth sense
She switched
on her computer, and with trembling hands clipped the DVD into the drive,
pushed it shut and clicked ‘Play’. A date mark scrolled down the screen.
“That’s two
days ago”, Daniel stated the obvious. “It says ‘Session 4/Day 2’ there … what’s
that mean?”
“How should I
know? Shut up!” Sam replied irritably.
The picture
spread from the centre of the screen, establishing gradually. It showed a
water-filled, enclosed space, grey-in-grey, so much so that it was virtually
impossible to tell where the water ended and the walls began. There was no
visible light source. The place was mired in a diffuse, dull gloom. Floating on
the water, face-up and motionless, the figure of a man in a grey wet-suit.
“It’s Jack!”
Daniel whispered excitedly.
“Shush!” The
meaning of the image was hovering just beyond the fringes of Sam’s
consciousness, and she didn’t want to be distracted. In the upper left-hand
corner she could make out two divers, moving carefully and without causing so
much as a ripple on the water’s surface. At the bottom of the screen appeared a
data bar, reading ‘Subject 14A’, followed by a graph and a sequence of numbers
that looked familiar.
“Those are
vital stats! … Heartbeat is fast, thready … Blood pressure is up …”, Sam said,
mostly to herself. Then, “Turn up the volume!”
Teal’c answered.
“It is turned up, SamanthaCarter.”
“Can’t be. I’m
not hearing -”
She was
interrupted by the sudden sound of a female voice, obviously coming from
outside the grey chamber. “Diving team, diving team! Another episode is
imminent. Stand by to sedate and retrieve subject if pulse and blood pressure
reach critical levels.” On the screen both divers cocked their heads, listening
to the message on their earpieces, then gave a thumbs-up.
Sam’s eyes
strayed from the image to the data bar and back again. Finally, she understood.
“No!”
“Sam?” asked
Daniel. “Sam, what is it?”
“It’s a
sensory deprivation tank!”
“What is a -”
Teal’c began.
Sam explained.
“A place where you can’t hear anything, see anything, taste or smell or feel
anything, hardly even your own voice or your own body. It’s sometimes used in
therapy, but a therapy session lasts maybe a couple of hours, and obviously you
know what’s happening to you. But just suppose you don’t know that, you’ve been sedated and wake up in a … a
nothingness! If you stay there much longer than an hour or two … your mind
starts folding in on itself, because it has none of the input it’s used to.
You’d start hallucinating, having brutal panic attacks, eventually you’d die …”
She trailed off, as she remembered something she’d read on the screen. “’Day 2’
… My God, he’s been in there for two days
…”
And then Jack
started screaming. An inhuman, heart-rending scream, filled with unspeakable
horror. Sam staggered back from the screen, where a tiny, grey figure floating
on grey water suffered a violent seizure. The readings on the data bar spiked,
then the heart monitor went flat. The anonymous voice yelled, “Retrieve,
retrieve, retrieve!”
An instantly
recognisable voice shouted, “Major! May I ask what’s going on here?!”
Reflexively,
Sam hit the ‘Pause’ button and spun around to face the General. “Sir! We …”
She ran a hand
over her face, shivering … He can’t be dead … I’m thinking too much! … But
Samuels said they’d kept him alive … Stop thinking! For God’s sake, stop thinking …
“Sir, we found out what happened to Colonel O’Neill …
I believe you ought to see this … it’s just … it’s not pretty”, she stammered,
unconsciously repeating Samuels’ words. Then, for the third time on this
dreadful morning, Sam recounted what she’d learnt from Samuels. The story
didn’t gain through iteration.
“We’re not
watching it for the entertainment value, sir”, Sam replied bitterly.
“I know that,
Major. I’m sorry.” The General nodded at her. “Well, an extra pair of eyes and
ears won’t hurt. Let’s see what we can find out. Carry on.” He pulled a lab
stool towards him and perched on it.
“Yes, sir.”
Sam was about
to restart the DVD, when she heard Colonel Carl Delaney drawl, “I wouldn’t do
that, Major. See, if I were you, I’d take that there disc out of the drive,
nice and slow, and hand it to my buddy Carl.”
He stood in
the doorway, training a silenced handgun on them. “Major! The disc. Now. I
don’t like having to say things twice. Hold it right there, freak”, Delaney
barked when Teal’c made a move towards him. “You so much as twitch, you can
kiss the General here good-bye. Same goes for you, Jackson. No disrespect,
General, but it’s about time you took retirement. Hurry up, Major!”
Sam opened the
drive and removed the DVD.
“That’s it.
There’s a good little girl! Put it in the case and bring it over, nice and
slow, remember.” His eyes briefly flicked to Sam, then he concentrated on the
three men again. “Interesting gizmo, that tank. Fascinating what it can do to a
man. And doesn’t leave a trace on his body. The geeks back at the facility
couldn’t wait to try it. Your Colonel O’Neill surprised them, though. They’d
figured 24 hours’d be the limit. First time round he
lasted three days before his system began shutting down. Quite impressive. And
you thought he was losing it …” Delaney chuckled. “Bad call, General! Mind you,
on the session you just saw, they nearly overdid it. Eight minutes of CPR
before they got his heart started again. Cracked his breastbone in the process.
And the dumb son of a bitch still doesn’t cooperate. Probably likes it or
something …”
As slowly as
she dared, Sam inched towards Delaney. He was overconfident, talking far too
much. Good, she thought. Keep talking, make me even angrier. And keep your bead
on the boys, moron. They’re guys, so they’re dangerous, right? I’m the good
little girl. No harm in letting me come too close. In his bigotry, Delaney was
making a fatal mistake. He underestimated his opponent. She was almost within
reach now. Almost there …
It was as
though Daniel had heard her thoughts. Without warning he leapt at
For a second,
Delaney was diverted, and that second was all Sam needed. She jumped him,
slamming his gun hand against the doorframe and sending the weapon flying, then
followed up with a vicious kick to the groin. Delaney doubled over, and Sam’s
elbow to the side of his head brought him down. She straddled his stomach,
pinning his arms to the floor with her knees. And then Sam Carter began
pummelling him with all the boundless rage that had been building inside her.
A large,
strong hand grasped her raised fist. “SamanthaCarter. It would be unwise to
kill this man. He knows where O’Neill is. I will speak to him”, Teal’c said.
The red haze
faded, and Sam clumsily climbed off Delaney. She stared after Teal’c as he
dragged the man away. The rush of adrenaline gone, she felt dazed and exhausted
… and embarrassed. She’d lost it, and that was inexcusable.
“Not really,
sir.”
“Didn’t think so. It doesn’t help, usually. By the
way, Major, could you do me favour? Whenever necessary, remind me not to get
you mad at me.”
Daniel had
found the DVD on the floor, where Sam had dropped it, and brought it back to
her. “Hey, Sam, there’s one bit of good news: if Delaney really knows where
Jack is, we won’t have to look at any more of this.”
***********************
Some ten
minutes later, Teal’c returned. Alone. “I have secured Colonel Delaney in a
holding cell, General Hammond. I hope this is acceptable.”
The General
bit back a grin. “Perfectly acceptable, Teal’c. Well, did he talk?”
“I have
persuaded him to share his knowledge with us. He is awaiting questioning”,
Teal’c stated. “At the present time, he has confirmed that your Area 51 is
indeed the place where O’Neill is imprisoned.”
“And you think
Delaney was telling the truth?”
“I am
positive, DanielJackson. I discouraged him from lying to me”, Teal’c answered
modestly.
“We’d better
keep this under wraps, people”,
“Excuse me,
sir?”
“Major, I take
it the idea was to find out where Colonel O’Neill is so that you could go and
get your CO back. It’s a mission now, and you’re in charge. What do you need?”
“Oh! Yes, sir!
…” Sam started pacing, her mind sifting through possibilities and givens. “I
want to go in on my own first, undercover. I need a transfer order, preferably
not from here and not from you, sir. No offence”, she added.
“None taken.
I’ve got a few contacts I can trust. What’s your ID?”, the General asked.
“Well, going
by what we’ve seen, I’m assuming that they’ve started up some sort of twisted
psych section. How does a doctoral candidate in psych with a specialisation in
memory retrieval grab you, sir? Make me a lieutenant, second grade, and find me
a name … Dorothy … Something”, Sam said, feeling for a small shard in her shirt
pocket. “And then I’ll have to cram …”
“You got it.
What else?”
“Bottle of chestnut
hair-dye and brown contacts?”
“Goes without
saying. What else?”
“I want
Daniel, Teal’c, and Dr Fraiser on stand-by to help me get the Colonel out
whenever I give the word.”
“Alright. What
else?”
Daniel
interrupted. “How are you planning to get Jack out? Walk past the guard post
and say ‘Never mind us, guys, I’m just borrowing him for a while’?”
“Nice thought,
if a little impractical. He won’t be walking, I daresay”, she retorted grimly.
“Sorry, Daniel. You told me to face facts.” Suddenly she grinned. “Daniel! All
the stuff you drag back from the planets we go to eventually gets sent to their
Delta-Storage, right?”
“Yeah. Most of
it. Why?”
“Did you send
them anything that was, say, 15” high, 2’6” wide and 6’2” long, and of
absolutely no defence value?”
“What?! … Let
me think … uhm … well, there was a fragment of a really old Salish
totem pole that was still carved from wood, not made of trinium
… yeah, that’d fit the bill. Why?”
“General, sir,
Dr Jackson urgently needs that bit of totem pole back for further study.”
“He does?”
asked
“I do?” asked
Daniel.
“Absolutely! I
want an order for the guys at
Daniel and the
General looked utterly confused.
“SamanthaCarter”,
Teal’c remarked, “I do not believe that O’Neill will appreciate being referred
to as a ‘valuable antique’.”
“Teal’c. I
don’t give a damn!” For the first time in weeks, Sam burst into genuine
laughter.
General
Hammond growled, “Clearly you and Teal’c know what’s so funny. Care to let Dr
Jackson and me in on the joke?”
“Well, sir,
it’s like this …” Sam started explaining.
***********************
Three days
later, a dark-eyed brunette by the name of Lieutenant Dorothy Fenwick showed
her ID and transfer orders to the guard post at Area 51, nervously pushing a
pair of horn-rimmed specs up her nose. She had Daniel to thank for the
mannerism.
“Okay,
Lieutenant. Staff parking is up there to your left. Stay clear of spaces
reserved for the brass. Then go to main reception. They’ll get someone to give
you the grand tour and take you to your section.”
“Thanks”, she
said, smiling sweetly, and put her rental car into gear.
***********************
The ‘grand
tour’ was less comprehensive than the name suggested, leaving out the top
secret areas where artefacts … ‘rocks’, she thought sadly … and specimens
obtained through the Stargate programme were analysed. Captain Williams, her
guide, eventually took Sam to a new building in a remote part of the complex.
“Well, here we are. Crackpot Central. It’s all pretty recent, which means
you’re lucky, because the accommodation’s above standard. Living quarters are
in the wing over there, by the way. They’ll assign you a room. Make sure you
give me the number.” He leered at her, and Sam suppressed the urge to slap him.
Williams
walked up to a set of locked double doors. “Haven’t got the entry code. It’s
authorised personnel only”, he explained and pushed a buzzer. Above their heads
a security camera swivelled and focussed on them. Then Sam heard the faint
click of the door lock releasing. He held the door open for her. “After you, Lieutenant.”
She took a
deep breath and walked through the door. This was it.
They were met
by a tall, striking redhead in a white lab coat. “Lieutenant Fenwick! Welcome
to
It took every
ounce of Sam’s self-control to return the greeting. The woman’s dark, cultured
timbre was unmistakable. It was the voice they had heard on the DVD.
***********************
Part 5
Dr Harriman had shown Sam to her quarters. Sam had
unpacked, found the commissary, and after dinner had gone for a reconnoitre of
the immediate vicinity. While out on the grounds, she’d made a brief, terse
call on her cell phone, to let Daniel, Teal’c, and Janet know that she was in.
She lay awake most of the night, going over every detail of the plan, making changes,
filling in blanks from the information she had gathered during the day. It
would be difficult … but they’d expected as much.
In the
morning, Dr Harriman came to pick her up. Over breakfast, ‘Lieutenant Fenwick’
was introduced to another newcomer, Captain Julia Sheridan, and lab technician
Tim Freeman, a Sergeant in his late fifties. While Sam thought that under
different circumstances she might warm to Freeman,
“We’ve got our
experimental section down here. Needless to say, the work is highly sensitive”,
Harriman explained. “At the moment, things are pretty quiet, though. We’re
under orders to drop all other research for the time being and prioritise this
subject.” She opened a heavy steel door that led onto an observation gallery,
not unlike the one at the SGC infirmary.
Sam looked
down into the sterile white and metal glare of the lab below, and her heart flipped.
She’d found him. Strapped to a slab in the centre of the room, cocooned in IV
lines, tubes, ECG and EEC wires, lay Jack O’Neill … Oh God, sir! If it hadn’t
been for the laboured rise and fall of his chest, discoloured by a massive,
livid bruise, Sam could have been staring at a corpse. She remembered what
Delaney had said. They’d fractured the Colonel’s sternum, trying to resuscitate
him -
“Lieutenant
Fenwick? … Lieutenant Fenwick!”
She started.
How long had Harriman been talking to her? Nice job, Carter! That kind of thing
can get you killed. And him! She looked up and smiled apologetically. “Sorry,
Doctor. I was admiring the equipment. State of the art …”
Dr Harriman
didn’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered. “Yeah, well. Lately we’ve had a
lot of funding. As I was saying, Fenwick, subject 14A should be of interest to
you. You’re specialising in memory retrieval, aren’t you?”
“Uh … yes … I
am”, Sam responded. “You’re saying you’re working on … 14A along these lines?”
“Yes and no.
It goes beyond mere memory retrieval. According to our sources, roughly a year
ago 14A’s brain function suddenly increased by approximately 900%. 14A then
disappeared for a brief period of time. Upon return the subject was reported to
have ‘lost’ the use of expanded brain function. I don’t need to tell you that
this just isn’t possible. No memory or ability is permanently lost, unless
there has been severe cerebral trauma of some sort or another, which isn’t the
case here. Our job is, quite simply, to get 14A to do it again and find out how
it works. So far we haven’t been very successful”, Harriman added. “The
protocol was slightly unusual. We ruled out conventional truth drugs and
hypnosis, because the subject has had Special Ops training and would know how
to minimise their effects …”
Again, Sam
tuned out Harriman’s voice, reeling from the implications of what she’d heard.
The good doctor could carry on tearing apart Colonel O’Neill till Kingdom Come
without finding anything. There was nothing to be found. The Asgard had done what Harriman said couldn’t be done. They’d
erased that knowledge, that ability, from the Colonel’s mind before it
destroyed him.
“That’s
classified. You don’t need to know any background.” Harriman glared at her.
“And I’d like to warn you at this point, both of you. You will be asked to do
or witness things you might find disturbing. Some of the procedures we try on
14A will cause him severe discomfort. On the upside, if we succeed, the
benefits to our country could be immense.”
Sam never took
her eyes off the still form in the room below. Don’t throttle her, Carter! It’s
a giveaway. You’re here to get him out … She turned to Harriman and asked, “Has
… the subject … divulged any information so far?”
Dr Harriman
frowned, eventually she said, “It’s in the files. I’ve got copies for you both.
Have a look, tell me what you think. At this juncture we’re very open to
suggestions …”
Julia
Sheridan’s eyes lit up.
***********************
Sam sat at the
desk in her quarters, studying the files she’d picked up from Harriman. He’d
been put in the tank four times, duration ranging from one to three days. The
files documented every scream, every panic attack, right down to the episode
that nearly had killed him. Each time he’d been retrieved from the tank,
Harriman had tried to question him. As far as Sam could make out, the most
pertinent piece of information the Colonel had offered was a list of last
year’s NHL scores. Involuntarily, she grinned: it was so like her … mulish CO …
at least he still was in there somewhere, fighting …
Her smile
faded. In minute detail, the next pages charted his deterioration. Periods when
he was disoriented and incoherent had become longer and more frequent, at times
he was catatonic. His dependency on his interrogator had increased
dramatically. That husky voice represented the only form of human contact, the
only stable, palpable reality in the universe of Jack O’Neill. Harriman had
managed to sustain the effect, although she no longer dared to put him in the
tank. Instead, they’d begun experimenting with psychoactive drugs, inducing
states of massive anxiety. On the rare occasions when he was conscious, he was
kept in limbo even now, outside stimuli reduced to a bare minimum. Fed and
medicated through tubes and IV lines, not touched or spoken to by anyone. If
direct contact was necessary he would be heavily sedated. Stimuli were only
allowed as a reward for information given. So far there had been no such
rewards.
Heartsick, Sam
closed the folder and looked at her watch. They were to meet with Dr Harriman
in the conference room in ten minutes, supposedly to review ‘suggestions’ … Sam
groaned. The one suggestion she was dying to make to Harriman was not only
anatomically unfeasible but would also undermine the image of the meek junior
officer and scientist Sam was hoping to maintain.
***********************
Having taken a
wrong turn in the labyrinth of identical corridors, Sam arrived late. “Sorry. I
got lost …”
“Lieutenant
Fenwick! How nice of you to join us”, Harriman said coolly. “Colonel, this is
our latest acquisition. Lieutenant
Dorothy Fenwick. Fenwick, Colonel Maybourne.”
Sam felt like
she’d somehow lost the ability to breathe … Please, don’t let him fire up his
brain cell and recognise me! … She managed a shaky salute in Maybourne’s
direction. “Colonel.”
“Lieutenant. Sit down.” He eyed her uncertainly.
“Fenwick? … Have we met before?”
“No, sir, not
that I’m aware of. I’m sure I’d remember, sir.” Sam took a seat.
Maybourne
shrugged and said, “Captain Sheridan, if you’d like to carry on …”
“Captain”, Sam
cut in, unable to contain her horror. “ECT has been reputed to have some therapeutic value in the treatment of amnesia.
The efficacy of the treatment is far from certain, as you should know. Besides,
I don’t think the subject is suffering from amnesia -”
“Oh, I
absolutely concur, Lieutenant”, replied
“Torture, in
other words”, Sam said coldly. “Primum non nocere ring a bell, Captain? You did study Latin, I presume, and I trust you heard of Hippocrates?”
“Lieutenant!” Maybourne barked. “We may not like what
we’re doing here, but the end justifies the means. I’m sure Dr Harriman has
explained the guidelines to you. Unless you have a better idea, I’m inclined to
go with
Sam was rising
to go, when Harriman stopped her. “Lieutenant Fenwick. You’ve come here to do
experimental psych. What did you think this was? A paediatrics ward? If your
credentials weren’t so good, I’d turf you out right now. As it is, I’m willing
to give you another chance. Sort out your attitude! Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, doctor.
I’m sorry. It just takes some getting used to.”
“Get used to
it quickly. I expect to see you in the lab at 1900 hours.” Harriman rose and
flounced through the door, leaving Sam behind.
Sam leaned
heavily on the table and closed her eyes … No, please! … The roller coaster she
was on must have just taken a dive … The Colonel had ended up here because of
her … Someone, anyone, get me off this ride! … Her objection had prompted
Maybourne to go with
“Hey … you
alright?”
Sam turned and
saw Freeman’s head poking through the door. “No!” She turned away again. “I
will be in a bit.”
“Don’t worry
about Harriman. She always finds herself a newcomer to pick on -”
“Look,
Freeman, I don’t want to be rude. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but -”
“You’d rather
I butt out.”
“Yeah. Thanks
…” She looked at him.
“Don’t sweat
it. If you want to talk, just give me a shout.” Freeman winked at her, and his
head disappeared.
Talk?! If she
rated the things she didn’t want to do on a scale of 1 to 10, talking to
Freeman would roughly earn a 6. On the other hand, having to be there at the
lab tonight, now that was a clean, unequivocal 11 … and she would be unable to
stop them …
***********************
When Sam
arrived on the observation gallery, they’d already prepared the Colonel.
Electrodes were taped to his temples, and he’d been taken off the drugs. He was
drifting awake, stirring softly … Don’t wake up, sir! … Don’t! … Please …
Suddenly Sam saw his eyes widen in fear. He knew … Oh God! … He knew what was
coming …
“Lieutenant
Fenwick?”
Sam looked at
the woman. “Yes, Dr Harriman?”
“Do me a
favour, would you, Fenwick?” Harriman gave her a cloying smile. “I’m staying up
here with
No! Anything
but that! … Don’t think, just do it, you’ve got no choice. “Of course, doctor”,
she said quietly and left the gallery … Autopilot, Carter! If you refuse, you
blow what little chance you have of getting him out … I’m so sorry, sir … I’m
so, so sorry …
She entered
the control room, and Freeman acknowledged her briefly. He turned back to the
computer, then stepped aside for her. “All yours, Lieutenant.”
Tentatively,
she moved in front of the console, read the figures on the screen. The settings
made her retch. She’d been right … as though she needed proof. This had nothing
to do with ‘therapy’ or ‘research’.
Harriman’s
voice came over the intercom. “Stand by, control room. On my mark …”
Sam forced
herself to put a finger on the button. Don’t think, just do it … Don’t think,
just do it … Don’t think, just do it …
“Three … Two
-”
Don’t think,
just - … Freeman had pulled away Sam’s shaking hand, placed his own on the red
disc. “Don’t do this to yourself, honey”, he murmured, “and don’t tell anybody,
either.”
“One … Mark!”
Freeman
pressed the button. Sam heard the high-pitched whine of the unit loading. Then
it discharged.
Outside in the
lab, beyond the tall windowpane, Jack O’Neill’s body went into convulsions, the
tight restraints brutally containing the arching of his back and breaking the
skin at his wrists and ankles. At last, he relaxed, lying there dazed and
motionless. A thin trickle of blood and saliva ran down his chin.
Suddenly Harriman’s
voice filled the air. “Jonathan”, she purred. “I want to help you. But I need
you to help me first. Show me how your mind works, and I can make them stop.
Help me to help you, Jonathan!”
“… can’t …
sorry …”
For the first
time in weeks Sam heard his voice. It was barely more than a hoarse moan.
Harriman came
back. “I’m disappointed in you, Jonathan. They’re disappointed in you. You know
what that means, don’t you?”
“… please … no
… please …”
She’d never
known the Colonel to beg. Not like this. Sam’s fists clenched until her nails
dug bloody crescents into her palms.
The intercom
clicked back on. “Fenwick! Stand by! … Three … Two … One … Mark!”
That dreadful
whine, the crackle of the discharge. Louder this time. This time he screamed,
convulsing so savagely that the restraint on his left wrist gave. His hand
flailed against the edge of the slab, and Sam heard the sharp snap of breaking
bone. Mercifully, he lost consciousness.
“Shit”,
Harriman shouted over the speaker. “Somebody! Wake up the subject!”
Freeman got on
the intercom. “Doctor! The stats we’re getting are not good. Pulse is weak and
erratic. I wouldn’t recommend another try. You might lose the subject.”
Harriman gave
an impatient snort. “I’m coming down!”
“Hey,
Lieutenant!” Freeman tapped Sam’s shoulder. “She’s on her way down, honey. Look
ship-shape.”
Wiping the
blood from her hands and fighting an overwhelming nausea, Sam stammered, “I … I
didn’t say thanks.” Her voice was quavering. “Thanks.”
He gave her an
encouraging grin. “Don’t mention it. Literally!”
“Why are you
helping me?”
Harriman burst
into the room, walked over to the monitor and studied the readings. “Damn!
You’re right! … Well, there’s always tomorrow … Fenwick!
“Yes, doctor?”
Sam surprised herself by sounding absolutely calm.
“Go in and
stay with 14A. Observe the subject. Pupil reflex, stats, the usual, and see
what you can do with that wrist. Anything out of the ordinary, you let me know.
We might have got through with this last one. Well done, by the way. That
wasn’t so hard now, was it? … Oh, as soon as the subject shows signs of coming
round, put him back on the sedative, and get out of there. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“Good.”
Harriman nodded at her. “Freeman! Come with me. I want to discuss results with
you and Sheridan.”
***********************
The air in the
lab reeked of ozone, a lingering reminder of what had taken place here.
Hesitantly, Sam walked over to where her CO lay, still unconscious, cold sweat
glistening on his face. He was so pale, his skin seemed translucent.
“Here we go
again, Colonel”, she whispered, carefully beginning to clean and set his broken
wrist. “At least it isn’t your leg …”
Putting on the
splint she’d brought from the storage room, she was working quickly and
skilfully. After the last time, she’d asked Janet to teach her how to do a
proper splint … Sam concentrated hard on her task, trying to shut out
everything else, any thought of how the injury had occurred, of the fresh burn
marks on his temples. It took some time until she realised she was being
watched. She looked up.
Unbelievably,
he was awake. A pair of deep brown eyes followed every move she made. Then he
found her eyes, held her gaze. “Love the specs … Sam …”, he breathed.
“Shh. The
name’s Dorothy …”
He gave a tiny,
painful chuckle. “Dorothy? … Dorothy’s come looking for the Scarecrow …”
“What did you
expect, Scarecrow …?” She lightly ran her hand over the soft, short stubble
that was left of his hair. They must have shaved his head when he was brought
here …
“Thought …
thought Teal’c be the only one … weird enough … to try that …” He seemed to
have read her mind.
Sam’s fingers
traced his forehead and along the side of his face, until her hand rested on
his cheek. He closed his eyes and turned into her caress, starved of kindness.
“You’re … real”, he murmured. “My God … you’re real …”
Sam stroked
his face. “I -”
Freeman’s
voice came over the intercom, and she felt the Colonel tense. “Fenwick, you’ve
got to get him sedated. They’re on their way back!”
“I have to put
you under, sir. If they find out -”
Hissing at the
pain, he clasped her hand with his injured left. “Don’t go …”
“I have to!
I’ll get you out of here. I promise!”
“Soon …
Dorothy … ‘fore they scramble … what’s left of the Scarecrow’s little brains!”
“Tomorrow
night”, Sam whispered. “We’re going back to
Within moments
his eyelids began to flutter. Sam’s lips softly brushed his cheek, and she
pulled her fingers from his grip. Somewhere above her she heard a door shut.
***********************
As soon as
Harriman had dismissed her, Sam had left the psych building. Now she was
running down the main avenue to the staff car park with the long, economic
stride of the regular jogger. Freeman had come after her, shouting something,
but the older man couldn’t match her speed, and eventually she’d lost him. The
steady, soothing rhythm of physical exertion helped calm her down, clear her
head. She’d made a promise to the Colonel, and she was going to keep it. First
of all, she needed to meet the others and set up tomorrow night’s operation.
She found her
car, got in, and drove off, flashing her ID at the checkpoint. A mile or so
outside
Car doors
slammed, footsteps crunched on gravel, overly loud in the warm night air. Sam
smiled when the threesome materialised from the desert darkness and walked
towards her. God, it was good to see them! Janet, Daniel, Teal’c … a sturdy
little bastion of sanity.
Daniel and
Janet hugged her, Teal’c graciously bowed his head. “I am pleased to find you
well, SamanthaCarter.”
The doctor
frowned. “I’m not so sure about the ‘well’ part, Teal’c … You look awful, Sam …
What happened?”
“Hold it”,
said Daniel. “Before we launch into this, let me get some drinks. My mouth
feels like a sandpit, and Sam looks like she could do with a top-up.”
Five minutes
later he was back with a pitcher of beer, some water for Teal’c, and glasses.
“Okay. What’s up?”
“We’re getting
the Colonel out tomorrow night”, Sam stated matter-of-factly.
Daniel spilt
half a pint of beer and glared her. “Gee, thanks for the notice!” he snapped,
but back-pedalled immediately. “Look, Sam, I want to get Jack home as badly as
you do, but don’t you think we should hang on a couple more days, gather more …
uh … intel … and stuff?”
“You’re
absolutely right, we should”, Sam
nodded. “But we won’t. Tomorrow night. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Is it correct
to assume that there is a reason for your haste, SamanthaCarter?”
She studied
her boots. “Yep. There’s a damn good reason, Teal’c. Good, as in: if we don’t
get him out tomorrow, we might not get him out at all. Not alive, anyway …”
“Sam”, Janet
probed, “it would help if I knew what I’ll be faced with …”
Slowly, Sam
raised her head. She’d carefully schooled her features into a neutral
expression. “Tomorrow night, doctor, you’ll be faced with one fractured
sternum, which you’re already aware of; plus one broken left wrist; plus
multiple lacerations to wrists and ankles; plus third-degree burns on both
temples; plus probable cardiac trouble. I think I’ve left nothing out.”
“And … this …
happened tonight …?” Dr Fraiser put two and two together. “You were there, Sam,
weren’t you?”
“Oh yes …”,
Sam breathed. Then she told them. Everything, except what part she’d been
prepared to take in it. When she had finished, there was a long, seething
silence.
Then Daniel
asked, “Okay, Sam, what’s the plan?”
“I want you to
time it so that you arrive at Delta-Storage no later than 0015. You’ve got all
the necessary paperwork and IDs, so you shouldn’t have any problems getting in.
Take the container with you, load the totem pole, lose any guards or workers
there may be. I’ve calculated fifteen minutes for that. We’ll be with you in
the loading dock at 0030, 0040 at the latest. If we haven’t shown by then, you
leave.” Sam saw Daniel open his mouth. “That’s an order, Daniel!”
“You sound
like Jack”, he grumbled.
“Thanks”, Sam
said, grinning faintly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What will you
be doing, SamanthaCarter?” Teal’c enquired.
“I’m going
back now. I have to find our route to Delta-Storage. It’s a long way away, but
the good news is that there will be a network of tunnels connecting the psych
lab building to the rest of the Area 51 complex. Hangover from the Cold War”,
she explained. “I need the tunnel for us to get out safely … lugging the
Colonel across Groom Lake in the open might raise an eyebrow or two …”
“Okay, so you
find your tunnel. Then what? How are you going to bust him out of the lab?”
Daniel again.
Sam shrugged.
“That’s the easy part. There are practically no guards down there during the
night. All I need to do is some reprogramming on the vital monitors and
surveillance system and get him out.”
“How? You said
yourself that Jack won’t be able to walk, and something’s telling me that this
tunnel idea and a gurney kinda clash …”
“I know,
Daniel.” She sighed. “Janet, I hate doing this, considering the state the
Colonel’s in, but I don’t think we’ve got any other option. Can you give me
something that will keep him vertical and moving for about twenty-five, thirty
minutes?”
“PCP”, Janet
growled. “Sorry, bad joke … If you want my professional opinion, I don’t like
the odds of shooting him up with anything like you’re suggesting … then again,
we’re talking about Jack O’Neill … Wait here …”
Dr Fraiser
jumped off the porch and ran in the direction of the van. A minute or two later
she returned and handed Sam a small vial and a syringe. “Only use it if you
absolutely have to and on no account give him more than 5 mil IV. It’s enough
to keep him going. Anything more’ll make him jumpy as
a cage of monkeys. You’ll have to watch him closely.”
“Thanks”, said
Sam. “What is it?”
“Hasn’t got a
name yet. I’ve developed it from the bark samples you brought back from PR4
988. Kinda like adrenaline, but less aggressive …”
“Good …” Sam
tossed the vial in the air and caught it again. “I’d better get going. I’m
scheduled for a spot of spelaeology … see you tomorrow.” She smiled at her
friends and headed for the car.
***********************
An hour later,
she’d changed into black jeans and sweatshirt and was sneaking through the maze
of concrete cubicles and corridors in the sub-level below the lab. Most of the
doors were unlocked, and there didn’t seem to be any surveillance cameras,
which was a relief. Obviously, the assumption was that no intruder would get
through the security measures on the levels above. Sam opened another door and
crept into the room, when someone grabbed her from behind and clasped a firm
hand over her mouth.
“Don’t scream!
It’s me. Freeman!” He carefully let go of her.
Sam spun
around, furious, mostly at herself for having been caught. “Are you insane?!
You nearly gave me a heart attack! What the hell are you doing down here?!”
He laughed. “I
could ask you the same thing. Then again, it’s a fair bet that you’re looking
for this.” Freeman jerked a thumb at an unmarked door on the other end of the
long, narrow room. “That’s the one leads into the tunnels.”
She relaxed a
fraction, crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Right. That’s it, Freeman.
We got interrupted the last time I asked, but I want an answer now. Why are you
helping me? Better yet, why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be
part of some elaborate Good Psycho/Bad Psycho routine …”
“Okay,
Lieutenant … if that’s your rank”, grinned Freeman. “With the mouth you’ve got
on you, I’d hazard a guess at two things: a) you’re way higher up in the
pecking order, and b) you’ve been serving with our friend upstairs for a
while.”
Sam’s jaw
dropped. “Yes … and yes”, she stuttered weakly. “You know him?! How on earth …”
“Gulf War”,
said Freeman. “O’Neill and his team turned up at our base one fine day. Did a
few ops out of there. Just so happened that we came
back from a fouled-up recon mission a few men short. My CO had decided to cut
his losses, left some of our men behind. O’Neill got wind of it, tore the guy a
new a- …” Freeman cleared his throat. “You get my meaning. Then he went out
there on his own, and got three of them back, including my best buddy. Anyway,
I never forgot, and when he was brought here -”
“You tried to
help”, Sam supplied.
Freeman
grimaced. “For all the good I did. I knew who he was alright, but I had no idea
where he’d come from or whom to contact. With a set-up like this, contacting
nobody’s a hell of a lot smarter than contacting the wrong people … best I
could do was manipulate vital stats to buy him a little more time between …
well, you know. Until you showed up. Caught the look on your face when you saw
him. You’re trying to get him out, right?”
Finally she
smiled and extended a hand. “Major Samantha Carter. I’m Colonel O’Neill’s 2IC.”
“Well, I’ll be
…” Freeman shook her hand. “So, Major. What can I do?”
Sam filled him
in. Freeman led her through the dimly lit tunnels to Delta-Storage and showed
her the shortest way to the loading dock there. On the way back they marked the
turn-offs in the tunnel system.
When they
reached the cellars under the Psych Lab again, Freeman asked, “Anything else?”
Sam nodded.
“Access to the main control units for the vital monitors and the surveillance
system. I need to fool the computers into believing he’s still there when he
isn’t.”
“No problem.
Any time tomorrow evening you want to do it, just come and find me.”
“Okay. I will.
Well, I suppose that’s all for now … Good night, Sergeant, and thanks again.”
Sam turned to leave.
“Major! … Hey,
Major!”
“Yeah?”
“You go by
‘Sam’?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Freeman gave a
sly smile. “Figures …”
“What figures?” Sam was tired and in no
mood for cryptic hints.
“He keeps
asking for a ‘Sam’ … G’night, Major.”
Dumbfounded,
Sam watched him amble down the corridor … Go to bed, Carter!
***********************
The next
twenty hours were a protracted nightmare. Sam hadn’t slept a wink, and, by the
looks of them, neither had Harriman or Maybourne. When the previous night’s
‘interrogation’ still hadn’t produced the hoped for results, they’d started to
get cold feet. Apparently someone in
Harriman and Sheridan had seen their turf threatened
and protested out of injured professional pride. A terrified Sam had backed
them up for her own reasons. But it had been Freeman and his blessed forged
vital stats that had won the day. When he wanted to, the Sergeant could talk
the hind leg off a donkey, and he’d convinced them that 14A wouldn’t survive
transport. And while Maybourne was desperate, he wasn’t desperate enough to
risk losing the subject.
It was to be a
temporary reprieve only.
Part 6
Around eight o’clock that evening, Freeman came barrelling into the library where Sam had been relegated. The Sergeant’s confident demeanour had all but evaporated, and Sam had to shout at him before he started making sense.
Finally he
told her what was going on. Maybourne had had a change of heart. He’d ordered
the subject to be taken off sedation and sent in two of his goons to ‘talk’ to
14A. By the time Freeman had managed to stop them, the Colonel’s breastbone,
which had barely begun knitting, was newly broken, and his wrist definitely
would need setting again.
“I’m sorry,
Major … I was too late … Major …?”
Mechanically,
Sam corrected him, “Lieutenant, remember!” … It wasn’t fair … Her fingers found
the little china shard with the Scarecrow she’d been carrying around in her
pocket for days now. Absentmindedly she stroked it … How much more pain …? It
wasn’t fair … Yeah, yeah, yeah, Carter! Life’s a bitch and then you die. Do
something.
“Sorry …”
Freeman said again. “They’ve left, but I don’t know for how long. I … I put him
back on the sedative for now. Figured that way he won’t hurt too badly …”
Sam forced
herself to think logically. This changed everything. They would have to move
earlier.
“Does Harriman know about this?”
“I don’t think so, M- … Lieutenant.”
“Good. Go find her, Sergeant, tell her.
“Yes, ma’am!” Sergeant Freeman practically jumped to
attention, grateful to be doing something.
“Before you go, Sergeant …”
“Yes?”
“Describe to me exactly where the controls for the
monitors and the surveillance system are.”
“Easy, ma’am …” He told her.
When he’d left, Sam made a phone call. It was a risk,
but now the whole operation hung by a very fine thread anyway. So did Jack
O’Neill’s life … She pushed away the thought.
“Daniel? … Don’t ask any questions, just listen.
There’s no time. We’re moving everything up to 2200 hours. Latest rendezvous
time 2230. Be there.” She cut the connection.
***********************
Unobserved, Sam slipped into the control room. She
reset the computer of the surveillance system to show a continuous loop of the
images recorded in the lab over the last half-hour. That done, she reprogrammed
the vital monitor controls.
Only then she ventured into the lab. She’d braced
herself for a shock, but one look at the Colonel made her heart contract
painfully. “Poor Scarecrow …”, she breathed. His chest looked as though
Maybourne’s heavies had stood on it, and the broken bone clearly had shifted.
His wrist was grossly swollen, there was no way of resetting it now.
Swiftly and carefully Sam disconnected all tubes,
wires, and IV lines, took off the restraints, and finally put the splint back
on the Colonel’s wrist, if only to protect it from further damage. She checked
her watch. Quarter to nine … If his disappearance remained undiscovered for
another hour, they might be in with a chance. If the sedation wore off alright,
if she could get him through the tunnels, if everything went well the other end
… Too many ‘ifs’ altogether … It was a lottery … Sam sighed and took his good
hand in hers, ran her fingertips across it … He had the most beautiful hands
she’d ever -
“How’s he doin’, honey?” Freeman had come in silently,
obviously having recovered his cool.
“Dammit, Sergeant! Will you stop making me jump out of
my skin?! What is this? A hobby of yours?”
“Sorry … ”
“Never mind. Any joy?”
A wide grin crinkled his face. “Oh, that … reckon the
harpies are having old Harry for dinner just about now … We finally had a bit
of luck! He’s actually over at Nellis, so they had to
go after him. I told them not to worry, I’d stay right here and guard ‘the
subject’ with my life. I’d do it, too …”, the Sergeant added seriously.
“Thanks, Freeman. Good job!” Sam gave him a grateful
smile.
He winked at her. “Right. You see to your … uh … CO,
Major, and I’ll go discourage anyone who comes by and looks nosey.”
“Buzz off, Freeman!” She shook her head. Oh boy …
Sam bent over the Colonel and shook his shoulder.
“Sir? … Sir? … Time to wake up, sir. Time to go home …”
He flinched at being handled, shrunk from her touch.
“… No …”, he moaned, his face twisted with fear.
Should have thought of that, Carter! … Sam was torn
between the irrational impulse to take him in her arms and hold him till the
hurt had gone away, and the need to bully him into action. “Sir! It’s me …
Carter … we’re going home … Colonel, please, look at me!”
Drowsily, he opened his eyes, blinking at the glaring
lights.
“Hey, sir”, she whispered. “Recognise me?”
“Sam … Dorothy …” He shifted a little, winced. “Hurts
…”
“I know, sir, I know. But you have to get up.”
“… jokin’ …”
“’Fraid not, sir … we’ve got
to get you out of here.” Slowly and gently, so as not to startle him again, Sam
slipped an arm under his neck and helped him sit up.
“… hurts …”, he said again.
She sat next to him, her arm supporting his back.
“You’re doing great, sir. Just take it easy for a moment, then we’ll think
about standing up, okay?”
“’kay”, Jack breathed, resting his head against Sam’s.
“You mind … mind if we wait till the room’s stopped … spinning …?”
“Just say when, sir.”
“This time … next … year …?”
“Sorry, Colonel. Not acceptable.”
“Knew you’d say that, Carter … okay … ‘when’ …” He
cautiously manoeuvred himself towards the edge of the steel slab, until his
toes touched the floor. “You … sure about … this?”, he asked miserably.
Sam slid off the slab and stood in front of him,
trying to look encouraging. “Look at it this way, sir. If you keel over, I
catch you, we both hit the deck, and you get to be on top.”
“Like the … plan, Carter!” He laughed a little and
promptly started coughing. “Ouch …”
“No giggling, Colonel, please …”
“… my line, Major! … Alright … here goes.” Jack waved
her closer and put his good arm around her shoulders. And then he stood,
heavily leaning on Sam, but he stood. “Sorry …”, he gasped, “… haven’t done
this in … what? … three weeks?”
“Five”, she stated, looking up at him. If he went any
more pallid, he’d start to glow in the dark. Sam clamped down on a surge of
anger. Stop it! He doesn’t need you angry … “You’re doing great”, she repeated.
“Now, there’s the door. Let’s go!”
Tiny rivulets of sweat were running down Jack’s face.
“I can’t … Sam … I can’t …”
“You have to, sir. No ‘Plan B’. You’re coming with me
… or I’m staying!” If she knew anything about the
Colonel, that threat should achieve the impossible. It did.
***********************
Freeman met them outside in the hall. Eyes shining
with something suspiciously akin to hero worship, he snapped a salute at Jack.
“Colonel O’Neill, sir! Last time this happened, the guy’s name was Lazarus.
Sir!”
“Don’t …!” Jack wheezed. “Don’t … make me laugh,
Sergeant … Freeman?!”
The older man’s face lit up with pride. “Jeez, sir!
Didn’t think you’d remember. It’s been a few years …” Freeman turned to Sam.
“How about letting me take over for a while, honey?”
Jack frowned. “Sergeant! … You always callin’ female officers … ‘honey’?”
“Sorry, sir!” The Sergeant said soberly, hiding his
grin. “Here, put this on, Colonel. It’s a bit chilly where we’re going …”
Freeman helped Jack into a cotton jacket he’d kept tucked under his arm. “Not
much, but it matches the pants … With respect, sir, pea-green really ain’t your
colour …”
***********************
By half past nine they were over halfway through the
tunnels, just beyond the point where the corridor from the Psych Lab connected
to the main tunnel network. The burly Sergeant had all but carried Jack for the
past ten minutes, and Sam was getting anxious. High time for a break.
They found an old storage box, and Freeman let the
Colonel sit down.
Exhausted, Jack leaned against the wall, closed his
eyes. “Next time … you take me hiking, Carter … can I bring my boots?”
“Stop talking, sir”, Sam ordered. “Save your breath!”
The fact that the Colonel obeyed her without repartee spoke volumes. She
sighed.
The Sergeant pulled Sam aside. “Major?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I should go back and guard your six, just in
case our playmates get an attack of the clevers … You
be alright?”
Sam nodded. “Sure. Good idea. And Freeman?”
“Yeah, honey?” He winked at her, almost getting a
smile.
“I’ll come back for you. Be outside the lab building
and ready to jump into a moving car at 2250.”
“No, ma’am! You can’t take that risk!”
“Nobody gets left behind. 2250! That’s an order,
Sergeant!”
“Yes, Major!”, Freeman conceded unhappily and
disappeared down the tunnel.
***********************
Sam went back to check on the Colonel. He was drenched
in sweat and struggling for air in fast, shallow gasps. With the injury to his
chest, even the simple, everyday act of breathing had to be agony. She took out
the vial and syringe, and drew 5 mils of the medication Janet had given her.
This wouldn’t be fun for either of them …
Sam crouched by his side and lightly touched his knee.
“Hey, sir … we’re nearly there …”
“You think … there’ll be a bus … maybe?” He looked at
her, then noticed what she was holding in her hand. Immediately, he tensed,
eyes filled with the shock of betrayal. “No … Sam … Sam? …”
She’d expected him to react like this, but that didn’t
make it any easier. “Shh. Colonel? Listen to me! You have to trust me, sir. I
know the last thing you want is being stuck with another needle, but without
this you’re not gonna make it. Give me your arm, sir, please …”
He slightly shifted his arm towards her. The little
gesture held such resignation and hopelessness, it illustrated all too clearly
how used he’d become to being controlled by others. Asking this man to trust
anyone right now was asking the inconceivable, and Sam knew it. She would have
given anything to spare him this. As tenderly as she could she straightened his
arm, pushed up the sleeve over his elbow, and bunched it into a makeshift
tourniquet … Please, let me find the vein, don’t make me frighten him even more
…
There! … A little plume of dark blood billowed through
the clear liquid. Sam emptied the syringe, pulled it out carefully. She felt
for his pulse, intently watching his face. Within minutes his colour improved,
and his heartbeat steadied. “Better?” she asked.
He exhaled slowly. “Sam … I … One of the few things I
could count on was people injecting me with stuff. I kept tripping … bad … bad
trips. When you … I -”
“I know. You don’t have to explain. I know, sir.”
“Thanks …”
“Don’t … Ready to go, sir?”
Jack managed to get up on his own, then put his arm
around her shoulders. “So, Carter … where’s that mountain you wanted me to
climb?”
***********************
They’d been walking for five minutes perhaps. Sam
checked her watch again. Ten to ten. Not long now … not long at -
Somewhere behind them in the tunnels a shot rang out.
She froze. When the echo had faded, Sam heard running footsteps, closing fast.
“Shit!”
Pulling Jack along with her, she kept moving, suddenly
spotted a niche, half-hidden in the gloom. One corner was piled with building
debris, pipes and rubble, the other was clear. “Stay there, sir!” she
whispered, pushing Jack into the free corner. “Don’t move!”
“Carter -”
“Quiet!” Drawing off their pursuers was the only
chance she had … the only chance the Colonel had.
Sam ducked into a side tunnel and continued walking,
talking to herself, making as much noise as she could. The footsteps kept
coming closer, closer. She caught snatches of hushed conversation. They had to
be off the link tunnel and past the niche by now … Thank God! … She found
another corridor veering off sharply to the left, turned the corner and pressed
herself against the wall. The footfalls had slowed, sounded very near now. A
minute later she saw the muzzle of a 9mm automatic appearing from behind the
corner. Sam held her breath, waited for the gun hand to follow, then the
forearm. That’s right, be careless! Keep your weapon away from your body! Makes
it so much easier for someone else to … Sam’s hands grabbed the wrist, and she
pulled for all she was worth, swinging around her opponent. Sheridan stumbled
and slammed face-first into the wall next to Sam, lost her gun and fell to the
ground, out cold. By the looks of it, her nose was broken … Gee, I’m sorry,
Captain! … The gun. Where was the gun? Sam knelt next to Sheridan, shifted her
body, one hand groping underneath for the SIG. She sensed the movement behind
her a split-second before a small, cold ‘o’ made contact with the base of her
skull.
“Hello there, Dorothy”, said Harriman’s pleasant
voice. “Or should I call you Samantha, Major Carter? When we found the lab
empty, Maybourne finally remembered where he’d seen your face before. Sharp as
a beach ball, our Harry!” The doctor tutted. “Major,
didn’t anyone ever tell you the winner is always the one making the
second-but-last mistake? No? Too bad. Well, time to say good night, but don’t
worry, I’m sure I’ll find Colonel O’Neill somewhere nearby …”
“Looking for me, doctor?” Jack enquired politely.
Harriman made her last mistake. Instinctively, she turned toward the voice. Sam
felt the pressure of the gun in her neck lessen and dropped flat. The next
sound she heard was the impact of something solid on skin and bone and a
sickening crunch.
Groggily, Sam came to her feet. The Colonel stood over
Harriman’s body, clutching a piece of lead piping. “Second-but-last mistake,
doctor … I win”, he whispered. Then his knees buckled, and he slumped against
the wall.
“Stay on your feet, sir! For God’s sake, stay on your
feet!” Sam rushed over and steadied him.
He hid his face at Sam’s shoulder. “Never liked her
much, anyway”, he murmured. “Kept calling me ‘Jonathan’ … mom called me that
when she was mad at me … called me ‘Jonathan’ most of the time …”
“You know, much as I sympathise with your mom … Jack …
just for once I’m really glad you never do as you’re told … You be alright here
for a moment?”
He nodded.
Sam checked on Harriman. She was dead, her skull shattered.
The thought of the depth of pain and hatred the Colonel had to feel to have
struck the woman with such devastating ferocity made Sam ache … but he’d saved
both their lives. Then she noticed that Sheridan had begun stirring. She pulled
the belts from the Captain’s pants and lab coat and tied her up securely.
Nearby on the floor, Sam found the automatic, safed
it, tucked it in her waistband, and stood.
Jack had moved a few shaky steps away from the wall,
awkwardly knelt to pick up something, and slipped it in his breast pocket. When
he saw her approaching, he held out his hand.
She helped him up. “I’d better check your pulse, sir.
Janet said the stuff I gave you would keep you moving, but she never mentioned
anything about going out to bat … Bit fast, but otherwise okay … We’ve got to
go, Colonel.”
“Okay … By the way, Carter? How the hell do you plan
to get me out of here?”
“Oh … I had Siler build something. Special container
for transporting valuable antiques …”
“’Valuable -’ … Carter!! …”
***********************
They reached the Delta-Storage loading bay with two
minutes to spare. Apart from the SGC team, the place was deserted. Something
had actually gone according to plan. Incredible!
Daniel, Teal’c, and Janet had been waiting impatiently,
getting more concerned with each passing minute. When Sam and Colonel O’Neill
had limped out to the loading dock at last, impulsive Daniel had raced up to
them, arms wide, ready to wrap them both in a bear hug. Thankfully, one look at
Jack had made him think better of it.
The effect of Janet’s medication had worn off. O’Neill
was white as a ghost and barely conscious anymore. Without a word, Teal’c
lifted him up and carried him to the container. Its side panel was open,
revealing a hidden compartment, large enough to conceal a man, below the one
that now held the Salish totem pole. Slid out from
the compartment was a padded wooden sheet like a makeshift stretcher. The huge
Jaffa gently eased his friend onto it and stepped back to make way for Dr
Fraiser.
Over the years, Janet had more or less come to expect
members of SG-1 to be wheeled, carried, or dragged to her infirmary half-dead
or, at the very least, distinctly frayed around the edges. In spite of all
this, she blanched when she saw just how bad a shape Jack was in. Sam sensed
her extreme concern … If Janet was this worried … Again she banished the
thought.
As they pushed the stretcher into the container, Jack
stirred. “Carter … ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re going back … down there …?” he mumbled, his eyes
closed.
“Yeah.”
“Be careful … Dorothy! If … you see Maybourne … throw
water on him …”
“You bet … See you in Kansas, Scarecrow.”
“… no place … like …” He lost consciousness.
Daniel and Teal’c closed the compartment, wheeled the
container onto the truck and locked the castors. They secured the rear flap,
fastened the tarpaulin. Then they and Janet climbed into the cabin, and the
engine roared to life. The truck rolled down the long, straight stretch of road
to the checkpoint. It stopped, a guard stepped out of the gatehouse, inspected
the documents and then waved the vehicle through.
When the truck was swallowed by the darkness outside
the gate, her immediate relief was so enormous, Sam almost staggered. Get real,
Carter! … It’s not over yet. Not by a long shot … Hang in there, sir! … Please,
hang in there! … Sick with fear, she left the loading dock and returned into
the tunnels.
***********************
Jogging along, Sam rapidly covered a distance that had
seemed to be interminable only such a short while ago. As she came past the
side corridor where Harriman had died and Sheridan lay hog-tied, she heard
faint cries for help. The Captain had a bit of a wait ahead of her, but
somebody would find her. Eventually. Probably.
The ground was rising now, and Sam knew she was
approaching the Psych Lab. She slowed to a wary trot. There was no telling
who’d fired the shot they’d heard, and someone might still be down here,
waiting for her. Suddenly she came to a halt. She’d caught a shuffling noise
beyond the next corner. Step by cautious step, Sam moved towards the bend.
A yard from the corner she stopped, listened. Muffled
gargling, and a grumpy voice telling the gargler to
shut up. Freeman! She poked her head around the bend. The sight before her rivalled
Botticelli’s Birth
of Venus in lyrical charm: Maybourne, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, a
gag in his mouth, his face the colour of fresh beet root. On the floor across
the corridor sat Sergeant Freeman, engaged in taking a sip of water from his canteen
and otherwise ignoring his CO. Sam laughed until she started hiccupping and
tears streamed from her eyes. At last she calmed down and wiped her face, still
gasping.
“’Bout time”, Freeman stated. “I was wondering if I’d
have to strike an officer …”
Maybourne harrumphed fluently and eloquently from
behind his gag.
“Harry’s saying I’ve already done that”, translated
Freeman. “Far as I’m concerned, calling that” - he jerked his head at Maybourne
- “an officer is an insult to people like you and Colonel O’Neill … He
alright?” the Sergeant asked, suddenly anxious.
Sam bit her lip. “He’s … okay for now …” Then she
spotted the tourniquet below Freeman’s right knee. “What happened to your leg?”
“Ah, no big deal! Went clean through. Reckon Harry was
shooting to kill …” He winked at Sam, and Maybourne gave another outraged
grunt.
She couldn’t help giggling. Maybourne’s ‘marksmanship’
was legendary … had to be one of the reasons why he preferred flying a desk.
“We’re moving out, Sergeant”, she said, serious now. “You able to walk?”
“I’ll race you, Major!” He came to his feet easily
enough.
Sam stepped over to Maybourne, removed his gag. It was
like opening a bottle of soda that had been left lying in the sun for too long.
He spewed a barrage of over-pitched babble that finally slowed to an
intelligible pace. “You bring O’Neill back here or you’re finished! I’ll have
you court-martialled. I’ll -”
“No.” She stared down at him. Her voice was icy,
barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who got you out and let you keep your
rank into the bargain. But this time, you’ve had it. Kidnapping, unlawful
imprisonment, and torture of a fellow officer … I don’t think ‘conduct
unbecoming’ quite covers what you’ve done. They’ll slam you so hard, you won’t
know which way is up. It’ll be a cold day in hell before you see the outside of
a jail again -”
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Major!
Don’t for a second believe you’ve won. You’re dead. So is O’Neill. When I get
him back, and I will get him back,
make no mistake, he’ll pay -”
“Maybourne, will you listen to yourself? What do you
think your bosses will do when they realise that we went in, found a man who
officially didn’t exist anymore, and snatched him from your top-secret facility? You’ll be lucky to end up in prison …”
She forced the gag back into his mouth. Maybourne’s eyes bulged, and suddenly
Sam was struck by a thought. “Freeman?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Your canteen? Full?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Freeman handed it to her.
Sam grinned, unscrewed the lid and poured the contents
over Maybourne’s head. “Compliments of Colonel O’Neill … Pity … I was hoping
you’d melt … Okay, let’s go, Sergeant!”
“Gmmfff”, said Maybourne.
***********************
Three quarters of an hour later, Sam and Freeman had
driven past the guard post and were speeding away from Nellis
and Area 51. The Sergeant told her what had happened.
He’d just reached the end of the tunnel below the
psych lab when he’d run into Maybourne, Dr Harriman, and Sheridan. Maybourne
had fired, wounding Freeman, and then sent Harriman and the Captain after the
fugitives, while he was questioning the Sergeant. Freeman, less badly injured
than he’d led them to believe, had managed to disarm and subdue Maybourne.
“Like taking candy from a baby”, he commented gleefully.
Sam merely nodded, not saying anything. Now that
they’d got away, delayed reaction hit her with the force of a freight train.
She started shivering, feeling chilled to the bone. “Freeman, there should be a
blanket on the b-backseat …” She clenched her jaws to keep her teeth from
chattering. “Can you get it and put it round me? I’m c-cold …”
The Sergeant did as she asked, eyeing her with
concern. “Want me to drive? You look a bit peaked, honey …”
“I’m fine.” She fell silent again, trying to
concentrate on the road rather than the abiding image in her mind. The
Colonel’s face, still and drawn, as they’d slid the stretcher into the
compartment and closed the side panel. That damned container had looked
altogether too much like a coffin …
***********************
About forty miles further east, Sam turned off onto a
side road and from there onto a dust track. After about 300 yards she stopped.
In the headlights they could make out a large blue van.
“Stay here till I tell you to come”, Sam said to
Freeman. She grabbed a torch, quietly got out of the car and walked over to the
van. The van’s side door opened, and a petite woman jumped out. “Janet!”
“Sam! Where the devil have you been?! I was beginning
to think you’d had an accident …”
“Sorry, Janet. I got delayed picking up another
patient for you … It’s alright, Sergeant, come on over”, she called back in the
direction of the car.
Janet rolled her eyes. “Oh great, and there was me
worrying I’d get bored … By the looks of you, Sam, you’re next on the list anyway.
Feeling a bit shock-y, are we? … Get into the van, go on! Be quiet, though.
Colonel O’Neill’s in the back. Daniel and Teal’c have already left with the
truck.” She shooed Sam into the vehicle.
On a mattress in the rear of the van lay the Colonel,
still unconscious. He was hooked up to a compact cardiac and blood pressure
monitor, an IV line ran to his hand. Obviously, Janet had managed to jury-rig
her own little EMS unit back there.
Sam looked at him, her shoulders sagging. “How is he,
Janet? I mean, how is he really?
“Really?” Dr Fraiser sighed, uncharacteristically
despondent. “I can’t say, Sam. I wish, I could. The best I can do for the
moment is try and keep him stable, but it’s a cakewalk. He’d have to fight to
beat this, and right now I don’t know if he wants to … I’m sorry, Sam …”
“He’ll fight, Doc, he’ll fight.” Freeman had appeared
in the door. “Some guys never learn to call it quits, and he’s one of them.”
Sam could have told him otherwise. Instead she said,
“Janet, would you take care of the Sergeant’s leg? Then we go home.”
***********************
She’d been
driving for five hours, and finally Janet threatened to use a tranq-gun on her if she didn’t take a break of her own
volition.
“No stops”,
Sam declared off-handedly. “You think Freeman could
drive?”
“Can’t see why
not”, Janet replied and clambered through to the back of the van, where the
Sergeant was snoring delicately.
A few minutes
later, Freeman had taken over from Sam, who now made her way to the rear to
join Janet. Dr Fraiser was checking the Colonel’s temperature.
“How is he
doing?”, Sam asked.
“Better, which
is nothing short of a miracle”, Janet answered drily. “I’ve been reading those
files you brought with you … he should be dead by rights. Your friend, the
Sergeant, may have a point: he doesn’t know when to call it quits. He’s
actually sleeping now, as opposed to being unconscious … If he makes it through
the next four hours or so, he’ll be okay, I reckon.”
“Get some
rest, Janet. I’ll stay with him. Anything changes, I’ll wake you.”
“No way, Sam!
When did you last sleep? Stay back
here, by all means, but you’re gonna lie down. I can make that an order,
Major!” Janet Fraiser was wearing the Do
as I say or I’ll give you an enema face Daniel was so fond of and threw Sam
a spare pillow.
***********************
Sam complied
wordlessly, stretching out alongside the mattress, wrapping herself in a
blanket. She didn’t go to sleep, though. In the sodium-orange bands of light
that hopped in through the windows she studied the Colonel’s face. Relaxed in
sleep, it looked open, vulnerable. Impossibly young. Sam had only rarely seen
him like this. With children, sometimes. It occurred to her that this must be
what he’d looked like fifteen years ago maybe, before Special Ops, before Iraq,
before he lost everything he’d ever loved, long, long before … Suddenly, with
the terrible plausibility of guilt, she thought that she, of all people, had no
right to see him like this. Not after having been the cause … not after what
she’d been about to do. She turned away, staring into the darkness until
exhaustion and the monotonous rumble of rubber on tarmac finally lulled her to
sleep.
***********************
Part 7
Someone was
holding her hand … this couldn’t be right. Because currently she was running
along a gloomy tunnel that telescoped further into infinity with every step she
took. Harriman, her head horribly misshapen, was closing so fast, and if
Harriman got to Jack before Sam did … “No!”
The hand
holding hers squeezed her fingers, and there was a voice to go with it.
“Carter! … Wake up! … Carter!”
Sam blinked.
Definitely no tunnel. Sunlight filtering through blue blinds. Noise. Engine.
The van. She was in the van. Someone was holding her hand. She turned her head,
looked straight into a pair of tired brown eyes.
“Anyone ever
tell you that you’re one hell of a noisy sleeper, Carter?” the Colonel said.
“Hey, sir …
How’re you doin’?”
“Okay … as
long as I don’t try to move … That dream, Sam? Bad?”
She should be
the one asking this question. Except for him, it hadn’t been a dream. It had
been real enough almost to kill him … Freeing her hand, Sam sat up, hugged
herself. “No … just … uh … you know …”
“No … I don’t,
Carter”, he said with a puzzled frown, then changed the subject. “Where are
we?”
“No idea, sir.
Hang on.” She knelt, reached over him, and lifted the blind. Blond, lazily
undulating wheat fields, as far as the eye could see. “Holy Hannah …!”
“Carter?”
“You’re not
gonna believe this, Colonel … We’re in Kansas.”
Jack caught
her hand again. “Thank you, Dorothy.”
“No, sir! …
Please, don’t …” She tried to pull away, vehemently shaking her head. Oh God,
sir, don’t look at me like that! … You have no idea … No idea of what I would
have done … Don’t thank me, sir …
He wouldn’t
let go. “Sam? What’s wrong? … Sam?”
Janet saved
her. “Hey, you two! What’s with the racket at the back?! You annoying my
patient, Sam?” She came climbing over the seats.
Sam fled.
***********************
Just before
seven o’clock that evening they arrived at Cheyenne Mountain. Daniel and Teal’c
were waiting, and so was General Hammond. Dr Fraiser and a team of medics
rushed Jack to the infirmary. Sam followed with Teal’c and Daniel.
On the way
down to the SGC, she wearily submitted to her friends’ questions. They’d
arrived over six hours ago, having taken the direct route. Despite Janet’s
protests at the time, Sam had insisted on going east first, where they were
less likely to run into roadblocks. Now, Daniel told her the truck had been stopped
and searched twice by MP units from Nellis who, much
to their chagrin, found nothing but one perfectly authorised totem pole. She’d
made the right call, but it brought her little satisfaction.
After hovering
in the corridor outside the infirmary until the Colonel was taken care of and
had gone back to sleep, Sam left for her quarters. She desperately wanted to go
home and hole up there, be alone with her nightmares, but General Hammond had
scheduled a debriefing for 1000 hours the following morning, and ordered Sam to
remain on base until further notice.
The debriefing
had taken three hours. Copies of her, Daniel’s, and Teal’c’s reports, as well
as Delaney’s statement and all evidence from Area 51 were sent to the
President. SG-1 was on leave, pending Colonel O’Neill’s full recovery, and Sam
could go home at last.
***********************
She’d taken a
bath, sorted her laundry, and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to
brew. Absentmindedly, she opened a cupboard, took out a mug … Mug! … Where was
it?! … Where the hell was it?! She ran into the bedroom, tipped over her
laundry basket and went through every pocket in every piece of clothing she
could find. It was gone. She’d lost the Scarecrow. Surrounded by a heap of
dirty laundry, she buried her face in her hands. The cosmic irony of it … Oh,
get a grip, Carter! And cancel the coffee …
By the time
Janet called, Sam was drunk. She sat on the floor in the hall, listening to the
message. “Sam? … Sam? Pick up if you’re there … Sam? … Oh, well, looks like
you’ve gone out. Just wanted to check in with you, haven’t seen you all day …
Colonel O’Neill’s doing alright. I fixed his chest this afternoon, and he came
through it fine. Thought you’d like to know … uh … I’ll try again tomorrow, or
you call me … Take care.”
He was okay …
He’d come back … She struggled to her feet and stumbled to the computer.
The day after
Sam had posted the letter, she got a phone call from the base. General Hammond
wanted to see her immediately.
***********************
She’d taken
the stairs. The thought of being stuck in the elevator with, say, love-sick
Lieutenant Simmons trying to make conversation for the entire length of a
28-level-journey, was positively terrifying. It had worked … almost. The exit
from the staircase brought her out onto a corridor near the infirmary. And
Janet would have to choose 1536 hours precisely to go on an errand … Damn! Sam
tried to blend in with the walls, hoping Dr Fraiser would somehow overlook her.
No such luck.
“Sam? … Sam!
Wait!”
She stopped
but didn’t turn.
Janet caught
up with her, grabbed her arm and turned her around. “Sam! Where have you been?
Why didn’t you answer my calls? What -” Janet finally registered that Sam was
in dress uniform. “Where are you going?”
“Meeting with
the General”, Sam answered curtly, desperate to get out of this. “I’ve got to
go, Janet.”
“Sam … the
Colonel’s been asking for you -”
“Is he
alright?” The question was out before she’d even realised.
“He’s doing
fine. Considerably better than I’d hoped … I would have expected him to have a
far more difficult time of it, emotionally. I’ve treated torture victims before
… normally, there tends to be a lot of anxiety, and that’s putting it mildly.
He’s either doing a frighteningly good job of hiding it, or -”
“He’s slain
the dragon”, Sam offered pensively.
“What?”
“He killed
Harriman, Janet. He killed his bête noire.”
“He did what?! … I always assumed that you …”
“No. At the
time I was kneeling on the floor with Harriman’s gun to my neck. The Colonel
hit her over the head with a lead pipe … saved my life. Both our lives. He
knows she won’t be coming after him …”
“Well … that
would explain it … some of it. By the way, they’ve arrested Maybourne and that
Sheridan woman. And the President has informed General Hammond that, thanks to
some inspired bureaucratic callisthenics, nobody seems to be able to find
Samuels’ investigation report on the Colonel … Poof!” Janet’s hands briefly
fluttered above her head, and she winked at Sam. “Colonel O’Neill will be back
on duty as soon as I clear him … Look, Sam, when are you coming to see him?”
The question
jerked her back to the present, to what she’d come here to do. “Janet, I really
haven’t got time. Later …” She left the doctor standing.
“Sam …? Sam!
…”
***********************
General
Hammond was hopping mad, to say the least. “Care to explain this, Major?” His
flat hand slapped Sam’s letter that was lying on the desk in front of him.
“With respect,
sir, I think it’s fairly self-explanatory …” She rigidly stood to attention,
focussing on a point slightly left of and above the General’s ear.
“It says you
want a transfer for personal reasons. I’d like to know what those reasons are.
I’d also like to know whether you’ve discussed any of this with your CO.”
Sam blushed.
“No, sir”, she whispered.
“So, you’re
proposing just to cut Colonel O’Neill out of the loop?”
“Yes, sir.
Colonel O’Neill wouldn’t agree with my request, and -”
“Too right, he
wouldn’t! Hell, I don’t agree with
it! I don’t want to lose you, Major. If there’s anything -”
“No, sir. It’s
got nothing to do with SG-1, with you, the work. It’s … Sir, it’s to do with
what happened at Area 51, and I think Colonel O’Neill would have a hard time
trusting me -”
“Major, you
saved his life! He’d be a fool not to trust you, and a fool he ain’t -”
“Sir -”
“I haven’t
finished, Major. I want you to take some time to think this over. And I want
you to discuss it with your CO. That’s the only way you’ll get me to approve
this transfer. Dismissed.”
“Sir! -”
“Dismissed!”
Sam saluted
and left.
***********************
Daniel stood
guard outside the General’s office. No! The grapevine in this place worked like
the clappers … No, no, no, no! Sam squared her shoulders, ready to brush past
him. She should have known better.
Daniel blocked
her way. “Sam! What the hell is going on with you?! You don’t answer anybody’s
calls, you haven’t been to see Jack who, coincidentally, is worried sick about
you, you just breeze in here without even saying hello to anyone … What’s
wrong, Sam? Dammit, talk to me!”
“Daniel …
Daniel, please …” She pushed him aside. “I can’t … not now … I … I need some
time on my own. I’m sorry …”
Sam ran all
the way to the elevator.
***********************
Damn the
General! Why couldn’t he just let her go?! What difference did it make? The SGC
was a plum assignment, they’d find someone else quickly enough … Oh, please,
don’t let Janet turn up, or Daniel … at least Teal’c didn’t venture off-base
unless he absolutely had to … Sam was packing frantically, throwing anything
that looked remotely like she might need it in a bag. She had to get away, go
some place where they wouldn’t find her. Daniel wouldn’t give up, neither would
Janet. Just as well the Colonel was in the infirmary, else he’d join the club,
too. They’d be round sooner rather than later, and they’d want her to talk.
What was she supposed to say? Nothing she could tell them would change things.
Sam zipped the
bag, rushed out of the apartment and downstairs to the car. On the run again,
from her friends this time. Her brother owned a cabin north of Denver, and he’d
told her long ago it was hers to use whenever she wanted. She’d hide, be on her
own, try and sort out the mess she was in. Piece o’ cake, Carter …
***********************
The sunset was
glorious. Broad, bold brushstrokes of pink, orange, purple thrown across the
sky by some larger-than-life Monet or Matisse … She strolled along the shore of
the little lake below the cabin. It was beautiful. Peaceful. A place to stay …
Get real! You have to go back sooner or later. You have to confront what
happened … Sam was no more ready to do that now than she had been two weeks
ago. She kicked the pebbles in frustration. Following a sudden impulse, she
picked up a flat, smooth stone and, with a sharp flick of the wrist, sent it
skipping out onto the lake. One … two … three … it sank. Used to do better than
that, Carter! Again. One … two … Now that’s really pathetic! Choosing the next
stone carefully, she tried a third time. One … two … three … four … Her stone
was overtaken by a second, elegantly skimming the surface and skipping … two …
three … four … five … six … seven … eight … Eight times?!
“It’s in the
angle … You gotta keep it flat …”
Sam froze.
She’d have recognised that voice anywhere.
“See …?” He’d
come closer, level with her now, and flung another stone. It leapt across the
lake, leaving little rings on the water, like a string of pearls.
Eleven. She
watched the ripples dissolve.
“Hi, Sam”, he
said at last.
She still didn’t
move, didn’t speak, only risked a quick, sidelong glance. He was looking out
over the water. Now that he had invaded her sanctuary, he seemed willing to
give her the time and space she needed. Another, longer glance. His hair was
growing back. A light cast on his left wrist … Must be driving him crazy, she
thought, almost with a smile. On his temple, a fading scar … she looked away.
“How are you,
sir?” Her voice sounded funny, rusty, Sam realised. It hadn’t had much use
since she’d come here. There was a faint crunching of pebbles. She lifted her
head.
Jack had
turned towards her. “I’m fine … really.” He gave an impish grin. “Okay, to be
honest, the Doc refused to let me go. Had to bribe Freeman to smuggle me out
and drive me up here …”
“Sir …!”
“Carter! … I’m
fine!”
“How did you
find me?”
“Rather than
contacting your dad and getting the Tok’ra up in arms, I figured I’d try
conventional long-distance first. Called your brother … For cryin’ out loud,
Carter! You scared the crap out of me! What the hell did you think you’re
doing?!”
“Trying to
live with myself!”
***********************
Her anger had
matched his. Now she was racing up the flight of stairs to the cabin, taking
two steps at a time. She was halfway there, when she heard him gasp her name.
Reflex made her turn. He was on his knees, doubled over at the bottom of the
stairs. She rushed back, crouched next to him, hands clasping his shoulders.
“Sir? … Sir!”
Sam never saw
it coming. In the blink of an eye, Jack had twisted from her grasp, pushed her
on her back and was holding her down. “Sorry, Major. I’m not fit enough to
outrun you just -”
“Dammit,
Colonel! You frightened the life out of me!”
“We’ll call it
even, then … Now, shall we carry on our conversation?”
“Let me go,
sir!” She didn’t dare to fight for fear of hurting him, and he knew it. “Sir!”
“No. What are
you running away from?”
“Of all the
pig-headed …! Let me go!”
“Sam, please!”
His eyes had softened, he was pleading with her. “Time to stop running, Sam.
Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
She was well
and truly trapped. The Colonel wouldn’t give in until he got what he wanted,
and if that meant sitting on top of her all night, so be it. Sam closed her
eyes in defeat … Time to stop running. “Samuels told me why you went with him
…”, she whispered.
“Ah.”
“It was my
fault. Don’t you see, sir? … What you went through was –”
“The fault of
the people who did it to me. Sam, you’re smarter than that! How could it be
your fault? It’s not like you did … any of these things –”
“But that’s
exactly how it is! Do you understand?! Do you understand now, Colonel? The
night they tried their version of ECT on you, Harriman had ordered me to –”
“But you
didn’t”, Jack said with calm finality. “Freeman told me what happened, Sam.”
She shook her
head, crying at last. “That’s beside the point, sir. I was going to do it … I
was going to do that to you …”
“Shit”, Jack
muttered under his breath. He let go of her. “Carter! Look at me! Look at me,
Major!”
Sam sat up
slowly, slowly turned to him, her face wet with tears.
“Good. Now,
let’s have a recap on basic tactics, shall we? … Okay, Cadet. Assume we got
ourselves one of those pesky little scenarios we all know and love so well.
Outcome of the mission depends on the next move you make. Move 1: morally
admirable and gets you and your CO killed. Move 2: leaves said CO unusually
crisp around the edges, but otherwise intact, and opens up a possibility for
escape. Which option do you choose, Cadet?”
“Two, of
course.”
“Thank you,
Carter! Of course, two! You had me worried there for a moment … Sam, there was
nothing else you could possibly have done. What you did saved my butt … And
speaking of tactics, Carter?”
“Yes, sir?”
She saw an ill-concealed glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes.
“The number I pulled just now? Oldest trick in the
book. Can’t believe you fell for it …” With a quiet chuckle, Jack wrapped her
in his arms, rested his chin on her head. “Hey, Sam? … It’s alright … You did
good …”
***********************
He’d held her until she’d stopped crying. The sky had
faded from a pale lilac to indigo, by the time they walked up to the cabin. Sam
felt drained, but calmer than she had in a long time. “Can I get you a drink,
sir?”
“Anything, as
long as it isn’t chamomile tea”, Jack replied with a grimace. “I swear Fraiser
bought a catering pack of the stuff and is wildly determined to inflict it on
the ailing masses …”
Smiling, Sam
darted inside. She put on a CD and went to fetch a candlestick, a couple of
glasses and a bottle of Chardonnay. When she returned to the porch, the Colonel
was leaning against the banister, stargazing. She lit the candle and took him a
glass of wine before curling up on the swing. Music was drifting from the
cabin, in friendly competition with the rhythmic serenading of crickets and
frogs.
Would I die for you? I live for you
You know I do You know I do
And though you never will be mine
I will live to know that you have touched me
Once upon a time
You are all I am …
Somewhere in
Sam’s mind a hidden door opened for the briefest of moments, and she knew with
perfect clarity why seeing this man hurt was so unbearable. With a little gasp
she slammed the door, shutting out the forbidden thought. When she raised her
eyes, she found him looking at her, a strange expression on his face. He held
her gaze for a second, then turned away like a schoolboy caught with his hand
in the jam jar.
“Sir?”
“Sam, we’re in
the middle of nowhere, nobody here to hear us … You worried you’ll
spontaneously combust if you use my name every once in a while?”
“Jack?”
“Yeah …”
“How are you?
Really? I mean … inside …?”
He gave her a
wry look. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine, or something?”
“Or something.
You promised. Fair’s fair.”
Jack was
staring at the candle, seemingly mesmerised. After a long while he spoke, his
voice soft and hesitant. “They’ve messed with my head so much I don’t actually
remember a lot of things. Something to be grateful for, I guess … I remember
fearing that woman’s voice and at the same time hoping she’d talk to me …
nobody else would. I remember being terrified, all the time, of what they’d do
to me next. I remember hating myself, because I wanted to please that voice
more than anything, just so I could stop hurting for a bit … I also remember
waking up trapped inside my mind … which is not a good place to be in at any
time … I thought I’d died and desperately wanted to live, which is kinda
ironic, considering what happened on P4X 535 … But I do, you know? … Want to
live. I know that now …” He smiled wistfully, his eyes briefly straying to Sam,
then back to the candle. “I … I remember thinking of you. That’s what kept me
sane… And I remember waking up, and you
were there …” He trailed off. Finally, he looked at Sam again. “I dream about
that place. I’m back there and it starts all over again. But it’s nowhere near
as bad as it could be, because … every time … you come for me …” There was a
long pause, then he whispered, “So, yeah, I guess I’m okay … That’s why I want
you to stop beating up on yourself, Sam. You definitely saved my life, and you
probably saved my mind, for all that’s worth … And it wasn’t the first time …”
“But -”
“No ‘but’. I’d
be either dead or barking mad or both, if it hadn’t been for you. And you put
one over on Harry, which means I definitely owe you.”
Softly,
slowly, Sam started laughing. “He didn’t melt, Jack!”
“What the hell
are you talking about?”
She told him
how she’d found a neatly gift-wrapped Maybourne in the tunnels and baptised him
from Freeman’s canteen, as per the Scarecrow’s orders.
Jack’s eyes
went wide, and he nearly dropped his glass. “You did what?!”
“You told me
to throw water on him.” Sam shrugged.
“Aw, that’s
not fair! I wish I’d seen it … Throw water …” Laughing, he collapsed on the
swing, sending it into alarming gyrations, and pulled Sam into a hug. “Thank
you, Dorothy …” Suddenly, he let go and began searching the inside pocket of
his jacket, finally producing a little parcel. “I nearly forgot … I brought you
something.”
Sam took the
parcel. “What is it?”
“Open it!”
She untied the
ribbon and tore away the paper, staring at a small piece of porcelain. He’d had
it mounted and framed. “The Scarecrow …”, she breathed. “How …?”
“You dropped
it in the tunnel. I found it …”
Sam studied
the little shard, lost in thought. “Dorothy loved the Scarecrow best”, she
whispered.
“What?”
She looked up
at him with a start, unaware that she’d said it out loud. “Nothing, sir … Thank
you!”
“You’re
welcome, Dorothy.”
Holding each other, they sat on the porch until dawn.
***********************
Fin.