Beyond the Abyss

 
Title: Beyond the Abyss
Subtitle: No Daniel to talk to
Author: Berenice
Fandom: Stargate
Characters: Jack O'Neill, Teal'c, Samantha Carter, Janet Frasier, Jonas Quinn, Daniel Jackson...
Genre: Drama
Rating: R
Theme: After the episode "Abyss" of Season 6. Jack O'Neill still suffers from Ba'al's treatment.
Warnings: Violence, Torture
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to the author, no money made!

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"Colonel, General Hammond wants to see you in his office," the nurse hurried behind Colonel Jack O'Neill, as he left Dr McKenzie's office.
 
"Now?"

 
"Yes, Sir, right away."

 
Jack had just completed his last session with Dr McKenzie, the psych evaluation which had been scheduled three months after ... "the event". Since his release from the infirmary he had suffered through several sessions with the base shrink, which neither Dr. Fraiser nor General Hammond had been able - or willing - to spare him. So McKenzie had done his best to make Jack talk about his "feelings". What did you feel when you were repeatedly tortured to death and then revived? Good question, next question. Or try yourself. And how had he managed to get through it? Yeah, how had he managed to get through those sessions with the shrink? They had been a painful exercise. The only difference to Ba'al's interrogation sessions being that he knew his sessions with the shrink would have an end, once Jack had been able to convince McKenzie that he was able to cope with what had been done to him. The doctor had earned himself a prize for the most stupid questions. But Jack had enough experience by now to have a general idea what the shrink wanted to hear and what was better left unsaid. Then McKenzie had scheduled the final evaluation. The good doctor had been unable to come up with a reason not to declare Jack fit for duty. Jack knew that for now he would be free for another 3 months, barring nothing happening in between, then there would be, hopefully finally, another psych evaluation.
 
Jack was glad that he was finished with McKenzie now. It had been a complete waste of time and he could have told the shrink that right away. But this time, there was no Daniel to talk to him. Jack knew he had to deal with this on his own. Certainly McKenzie was not an option. He remembered the times when Daniel turned up. Daniel, always eager to help him and always trying to make him talk. Actually Jack O'Neill would never have admitted, would never have told anybody, that there had been times, when deep inside he had been grateful for Daniel's stubborn insistence on making him talk. Whenever he fell back in his old habits, clamming up, trying to lock something deep inside himself to bury it, he could count on Daniel turning up and slowly melting away his resistance. Much to his own surprise he had always ended up talking with him. Now Daniel was gone and there was no one left for him.
He remembered his time in the infirmary only vaguely, going through withdrawal from too much exposure to the sarcophagus. The bouts of nausea, burning up in hot fever, shivering chills and a ever present Janet Fraiser. Who, knowing there would be no Daniel this time, had tried to get him to talk. He needed everything he had to fight the symptoms of withdrawal, nothing left to fight against Doc Fraiser who was supposed to help him through this and who used the opportunity to get the truth out of him. Despite all his withdrawal induced rantings she had been there, gentle and compassionate, yet stubborn and unyielding, until he had finally spilled his guts. Better Fraiser than McKenzie, had been Jack's conclusion when he eventually had been better. Now McKenzie had finally declared him unconditionally fit for duty, what did the General want?
 
"General?" Jack rapped at the open door to Hammond's office.
"Colonel, come in, close the door."
"Sir?"
"Take a seat." George Hammond closed the file he had been reading.
Jack remained standing. "General, Dr McKenzie declared me fit for duty."
"Yes, I've received his evaluation, Colonel. Now, take a seat, please." George Hammond watched his Second in Command as he reluctantly followed his order. "This is not about Dr McKenzie or your fitness, Jack. We just received a message from the Tok'ra." "What do they want?" Jack spat, with a growing feeling of unease. He had talked with Jacob Carter on the Alpha Site, or rather Jacob had talked to him, had apologized for what Kanan had done to Jack, which went against anything the Tok'ra believed in. Still, his feelings towards the Tok'ra which he had never really trusted in the first place - a snake is a snake after all - were worse than ever. "Jacob is on his way." General Hammond met the Colonel's eyes. He knew his 2IC wouldn't like what he had to tell him. "It seems," he drawled, never losing eye contact, "it seems they have received intel which says that ..." "Spit it out ..., Sir," Jack finally said when Hammond didn't continue.
"They have received intel that Kanan is still alive and apparently in Ba'al's hands." Hammond eventually said. Jack O'Neill flinched. "How can that be?" he whispered. Kanan still alive, how could this be possible? The cowardly snakehead had fled him, left him there, in the mud, left him to Ba'al's Jaffa, to Ba'al's torture chamber. He should be dead. "I don't know, I hope Jacob can tell us." George Hammond watched Jack who looked definitely ashen now and who sat perfectly still. "Are you okay, son?" "Yeah," Jack took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm okay. Just peachy. What do they want?"
"We have to wait for Jacob to tell us. I'll call you as soon as he arrives."

 
Almost on autopilot Jack went blindly to his office. He didn't even know he'd arrived until he had closed the door behind himself. So, the snake had bugged out of him, left him there in Ba'al's hand only to get caught by that slimy bastard himself. Hopefully they would have soooo much fun together. Crushed against the grid by the gravity. The gloating snakehead toying with a dagger in his hand. Then there was the small bottle. Yellow liquid. Jack shivered when he suddenly felt the acid dripping on him. Acid, burning through his skin, his flesh, his bones, his lungs, he couldn't breathe anymore, the acid was burning all the way through and ... His trembling hands opened his jacket. Jack stared at the black immaculate T-shirt he was wearing, pulled the T-shirt out of the trousers to touch his skin. Undamaged skin. No holes, no blood. Not even a scar. It was as if nothing had ever happened. No scars at all. Stop it, Jack, you have to stop it. Put it in the box.
 

 
He breathed deeply. He had to come out of it. He had to leave this behind. Otherwise he could never go on with his life. No acid. No daggers. No gravity that crushed him. Only nightmares. Only memories. Just a tight chest when the memories came up. That big black box in his mind was big enough to stuff a couple of unpleasant memories more inside. Jack was certain, if McKenzie had known about this, he wouldn't have hesitated to send him to the funny farm right away. Actually he suspected the doctor of only waiting for the chance. Jack had wisely refrained from telling the shrink about his little flashbacks which didn't occur as often as in the first days and weeks after he had been released from the infirmary. He was determined not to let things get that far this time. He took another deep breath. Breathing exercises, learnt long ago in his hard training. Sometimes they could work wonders. In and out, no acid, no daggers, he wouldn't die, and there would be no sarcophagus to revive him. All was well. He was at the SGC. He hadn't been left behind and his team had rescued him. A sudden rap at the door let him snap out of it.
It took him a while to take in his surroundings. He was sitting in his office in the SGC, on the floor, leaning at the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, arms slung around them. Quickly he got up. "Come." Carter opened the door and peeked inside. "Colonel, my Dad is on his way. General Hammond scheduled a briefing for when he arrives at the SGC." She eyed him sharply. "Are you okay, Sir?" "Yes, Carter, I'm fine," he said harshly. He saw her wincing and regretted it instantly. "Nothing is wrong, McKenzie declared me fit for duty," he continued and followed her out. "Good to hear, Sir," Sam replied.
"About time too," Jack mumbled.
"Do you know what the briefing will be about?" Sam asked while the elevator counted off the floors. "Seems the Tok'ra got word that Kanan is still alive and in Ba'al's hands," Jack said without inflection in his voice. "Oh my god," Sam exclaimed. "How can that be? Shouldn't he have died after he had left you?" "Should have." The elevator stopped on sublevel 28 and the doors opened. "But you never know with these snakes." "Why are they telling us?"
"See, Carter, that's the question," Jack O'Neill said when they entered the briefing room.
 
Jack took his usual seat while Carter greeted her Dad. Doctor Fraiser had chosen a seat opposite of him and Jack gazed at her warily. He was relieved when the briefing started without McKenzie being there, too. "So, Kanan is still alive?" General Hammond plunged right in on the subject.
"Yes, we have reason to believe that he is still alive," Jacob confirmed. "Alive, in a new host and in Ba'al's hands." "How can that be? We thought that symbiotes couldn't live outside of a host?" Hammond asked. "Actually they can't, not in a dry environment at least," Jacob confirmed. "In certain environments they can though, at least for a short period of time until they can find a new host." "How could he find a new host?" Jonas asked. "I understand the Tok'ra take only willing hosts." "Who said that?" Jack muttered under his breath.
"He didn't exactly behave as a Tok'ra should while he was in Colonel O'Neill, so maybe we shouldn't expect him to behave as a Tok'ra now," Sam said. "Colonel, the place he fled your body and where you were captured was wet and muddy, wasn't it?" Janet Fraiser asked. "Yep." Good memory, Doc.
"So, could this be the explanation?" Sam asked. "A muddy, swampy place and he could have survived outside of a host? For how long?" "A few days, until in the upheaval of Yu's attack he had a chance to find another host." Jacob Carter said. "Seems as if that's exactly what happened. According to our information he has taken a new host. This new host was apparently a slave of Ba'al's. Kanan still tried to find the woman Shallan and followed Ba'al." "So Ba'al is still alive as well," General Hammond concluded.
"Unfortunately, yes. He suffered great losses by Yu's attack, the fortress is completely destroyed, but he was able to escape." "Where is he now?" Sam asked.
"He's got another stronghold. Apparently he has another fortress built exactly like the first one." "Oh my god," Sam breathed.
"Guess that way he had to pay the architect only once," Jack said.
"Where does this information come from?" Hammond asked.
"The Tok'ra still have an informant in there," Jacob said.
"Really?" Hammond asked. "How come it took SG-1 so long to get information on where to find Colonel O'Neill? You could have provided information much earlier." "Not to mention that the Tok'ra were unwilling to give any information at all and would rather have accepted the loss of Colonel O'Neill and Kanan," Jonas said. This time Jacob left it to Selmac to find an answer. "It's difficult for the informant, we can't risk anything to expose him. We have lost a great number of our kind in the attack on Revanna. We can't risk losing more." "Strange way of showing that," Jack muttered. He knew how readily the Tok'ra had been willing to sacrifice Kanan - and himself - and accept the loss. He had to admit he didn't understand those snakeheads, even when they called themselves Tok'ra. Ever willing to ask the SGC for assistance but backing out when their help was needed. "So this informant reported that Kanan is still alive and in Ba'al's hands, and Ba'al has fled to his new fortress?" Hammond asked. "Yes. However, as this fortress is apparently not completely finished yet, it might be easier to attack. Actually it's not even half finished." "Why are you telling us?" Jack suddenly asked with a strained voice. "You don't want us, SG-1, to go in there, do you?" The silence stretched and all eyes turned to Jacob Carter, who seemed oddly tense, until Selmac took over once again. "Unfortunately, Colonel, that is exactly what we want to ask you to do." All members of SG-1 stared speechless at the former General.
"You can't be serious," Hammond said.
Simultaneously Janet gasped "You can't do that." She turned to glance at Hammond. "General ..." Jacob took over again. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "Jack, we can only ask for this, we know you are in no way obliged to do it. But we need your help." All eyes were on Jack O'Neill now who had paled considerably. "You need my help? You, as in Jacob Carter, slash Selmak, or you as in 'The Tok'ra'? That damn snake bugged out of me, left me there for Ba'al to ... to question me, and now you want me to ... What? ... Rescue him? Save one snake from the hands of another?" Jack lept to his feet. "Once again play punching bag for the Tok'ra? Thank you, but no. This time you've to ask somebody else for help." Jack O'Neill turned and left the briefing room.
 
"Well, that was to be expected," Jacob commented calmly.
"Dad," Sam said, clearly shocked at his callousness. "Maybe the Tok'ra don't know what actually happened to the Colonel. He was badly tortured, he was repeatedly tortured to death and revived in the sarcophagus." "I know," Jacob softly said. "Of course I know. But Ba'al is obviously torturing Kanan now, just as he has tortured the Colonel," Jacob closed his eyes briefly. "He's torturing him for information." "Would that not be the host he's torturing?" Jonas asked.
"Yes, the host, but Kanan as well. They have devices to inflict pain on symbiotes. I hope you see the problem about this. Kanan might want to withstand the torment, but we don't know yet who the host is, so we don't know how he will react to this. If it was a true blending this time, and a symbiote has to blend with his host, what Kanan did with Colonel O'Neill was an exception, then the host will know most of what Kanan knows. And maybe not only what Kanan knows about us, the Tok'ra, but also the information Kanan got from Colonel O'Neill and through him about the SGC. We have no idea what intelligence he got." "But the Colonel says he doesn't know anything about Kanan," Jonas remarked.
"As they didn't blend he wouldn't know as much as a host normally would. Still, I think he's got more memories and data from Kanan than he is aware of. He suppresses the knowledge. Moreover we have to assume that Kanan knows a lot more about O'Neill and what O'Neill knows than the other way around." "So he could know what?" the General questioned. "Security protocols, mainframe codes, military intelligence?" "We have to assume he could," Jacob confirmed. "We can't be certain, but we have to expect the worst. This is Earth's security which is at stake here. A mere change of codes is not the remedy." "What do you propose?"
"Send a team in there and get him out. Dead or alive. As soon as possible."
"Dead or alive?" Sam asked.
"Yes. Dead or alive. He went against everything the Tok'ra believe in," Jacob explained. "They wouldn't accept him back anyway, even their numbers are diminishing." "What about the Tok'ra?" Jonas asked. "Kanan is a Tok'ra. Why can't you get him out?"
"We have no team that could do this. Furthermore the only one who knows the fortress from the inside is the Colonel."
 
"Doctor," General Hammond waited until SG-1 filed out of the briefing room. "A word?"
Janet Fraiser followed him into his office. She knew what he would be asking her. The moment she had learnt that Kanan was still alive and in Ba'al's hands she had been certain what was about to be asked of Jack O'Neill. Aside from herself General Hammond was the only one in the SGC who had any idea what Jack O'Neill had been through in his past. Even his team had never got more than a small glimpse of his past experiences and traumas. The General was the only one who knew the full medical report Janet had filed after she had released Jack from the infirmary. Hammond sat down at his desk. "Doctor, do you think he's up to it?"
"I don't like this, Sir," Janet remarked instead of an answer.
"I didn't expect you would."
"Sir, how can you do this to him? Sending him back to Ba'al, can you imagine what would happen if he gets caught again? Have you any idea what you're asking him there?" Janet's voice had risen, but even if she could be heard five levels up, she didn't care. "Damn it, he's been tortured, General. Tortured, repeatedly. Can you even imagine what this does to the human mind? It's incredible he's come out of it sane and relatively stable at all. How can you expect him to go back there?" "That is not the question," General Hammond said rather brusquely. Clearly, the Doctor was in one of her aggressive moods. He actually couldn't recall having seen his CMO as hopping mad as at the moment. "Doctor," he continued more softly. "Do you think I like this part of my job? Sending good men out there into this war we are in? Do you really think it's easy to come to the conclusion that there is no other way but this?" He fixed his gaze on the Doctor who seemed to have calmed a bit. "It just happens that Colonel O'Neill despite all that happened, or rather exactly because of what has happened, is the one person uniquely qualified to lead a team to this fortress. And I don't like it any more than you to send him back there." Janet drew a deep breath. She knew as well as the General that he didn't have to explain himself to her. She nodded slowly. "General, he's been through a lot lately. First the virus, then taking the symbiote and then torture and withdrawal. It's amazing how fast he recuperated. But even though Dr McKenzie found no reason not to declare him fit for duty, it will be hard on him, especially since it's just three months that he's back. I don't think you should order him to do this." "So once again we should appeal to his sense of duty? Is that what you're saying, Doctor?"
Janet sighed. No, this was not what she had meant to say. But the hopping mad act twice on one day would tax her CO's patience certainly beyond its limits. "It's his sense of duty that got him in this mess in the first place. But then, it's also his sense of duty that always gets him back on his feet. So I guess this is the only string you can pull," Janet said reluctantly. "Don't get me wrong, General, I don't think it's a good idea to let him do this, to ask him to do this, sense of duty or not. The whole event is still much too close to him. And you know his way of dealing with things. You should be aware of the possibility that this could send him over the edge. If he's willing to do this at all." "If he's willing to do this," General Hammond repeated. He knew Jack O'Neill was not one to follow orders blindly, nobody would follow THIS order blindly, least of all his belligerent 2IC. George Hammond sighed. Sense of duty. They had pulled this particular string to get him accept the symbiote, how could he pull the same string after all what had happened since? Still he knew what he had to do. You didn't earn your two stars when you were not able or willing to make the hard decisions. He could hate them and still he had to make them. "Thank you, Doctor," he dismissed her.
 
"So, are you going to order me to do this, or are you going to appeal to my sense of duty?" Jack asked, not surprised to see the General entering his office about two hours after he had left the briefing room prematurely. He had had two hours to think about the inevitable. Even before the General turned up he knew what would happen. "Jack, you have been through more than anybody can imagine, more than anybody should ever be put through. I really don't want to order you to do this." "But?" Jack was decided not to make this any easier for the General than necessary.
"We don't know what Kanan knows. If he's still alive, if he doesn't flee his new host then we just don't know how far Ba'al will go, when and if Kanan, or his host, will talk. You know what he can do to him, over and over again. I don't need to tell you. We also don't have any idea, what information he got from you. We don't know what he knows about Earth's security. You do have a lot of classified knowledge and we have no way to determine how much details he got and what he might do with it. For all we know, he could try to trade his information for his freedom. He doesn't behave exactly like a Tok'ra is supposed to, so we have to assume the worst." "So it's my sense of duty you're appealing to."
"Jack."
Jack shot him a hard glance.
"I guess it is."
"Well, at least you have the guts to admit it."
"Jack, you're the only one who has been to the fortress before. Aside from that, it's dead or alive, Jacob said." "Dead or alive, uh?"
"Dead or alive."
"What about the host? I mean, he can't have been willing either."
"We don't know who the host is. Jacob says he was a slave of Ba'al's."
"Do you believe them?" Jack suddenly asked.
"Believe whom what?"
"The Tok'ra. How come Kanan could have survived outside a host that long? Why didn't they tell us about the second fortress earlier on? Suddenly they've got an informant in that fortress, that's too good to be true. Why did they send Kanan if there was another informant in there?" General Hammond knew his 2IC had a point. "The Tok'ra are our allies. We have no reason not to believe them." "A snake is a snake," Jack mumbled. "I don't like this, Sir, not only because you want me to go back there. It's a gut feeling." "And aside from that?"
"Do I have a choice?" Jack was glad that Hammond at least didn't retort with some shrinks' favorite sentence of 'We always have a choice'. Only a complete idiot could assume that one always had a choice. He had had his fair share of classic no-win-scenarios. Last time he ended up with a snake in his head, too sick to really resist what was being done to him. What was he in for this time?
 
Janet felt uneasy as she drove home. She had wanted to talk to the Colonel before leaving the base, but he was nowhere to be found. With the permission of General Hammond he had left the base for the rest of the day and the night. She had tried to call him and left two messages on his answering machine. So she had decided to go home and drive over to his house later that evening. She knew he had finished his sessions with McKenzie that day and she didn't doubt a second that it had been a complete waste of time for both of them. Jack O'Neill didn't need a shrink - at least not McKenzie - but rather a friend who coaxed him into talking, instead of burying everything. A friend like Daniel. After she had finally known what she had to deal with when he had returned, she had thoroughly studied once again the medical reports that had been filed after Iraq, trying to find the answer to how she could help him to cope with a second time. General Hammond had told her that Jack had agreed to leading his team to Ba'al's fortress. He had also admitted that they didn't really know how to get into the fortress and how they would get Kanan out, dead or alive. So, the General had appealed to the Colonel's sense of duty, as she had expected. With that in mind she didn't believe that Jack O'Neill would go AWOL, as much as he might want to do that. She pulled into her driveway and instantly recognized the truck.
When she entered the house she heard Cassie's voice. "That's the second time I've won, Jack." "You get better and better, no chance for an old man any more."
"Ohhh, you are not old."
Cassie looked up from the chessboard, when Janet entered the room. "Hi Mum, it's late."
"Cassie, Colonel."
"We've been playing for two hours, I thought you would have come home earlier," Cassie complained. "Sorry, got held up in the infirmary. Cassie, can you get the groceries from the car, please?" Cassie disappeared. Janet scrutinized the Colonel. He seemed tense and was certainly not a happy camper right now. Jack started slowly to put the pieces back on to the chessboard.
"You want to eat with us?" Janet asked watching him while he toyed with a chess piece.
"Uh, I don't want to intrude."
"It's no problem, Colonel," Janet said. "I've got enough for three."

 
Janet went into the kitchen to prepare the meal. She heard Jack playing with Cassie and "Jack the dog" and wondered if he had come to see Cassie or to talk to her. Jack O'Neill coming over to talk to her? When hell froze over. She must have lost her senses, Janet thought. Of course it must have been Cassie. Playing with her, that way trying to forget what was waiting for him. She couldn't help but admire him. She knew that before it had been Daniel who had "made him talk". She had sent Daniel there often enough, that way sparing the Colonel a lot of sessions with Dr McKenzie. This time there was nobody she could send to him. Suddenly she knew, she wouldn't try to get him to talk this evening. She would leave it to him to open up if he wanted to. Janet was pleased to see that he ate hungrily. When they were finished, she sent Cassie to walk the dog. "On a day like this you would have sent Daniel to look for me, wouldn't you?" He caught her unaware. Janet slowly put down the plates she just had taken up. "Yes," she confirmed softly. So he had known all along. "Unfortunately I can't do this any longer." "No, you can't." Jack played with the cutlery. "I never appreciated this until now." Jack admitted, much to his own surprise. "He has to come on his own now, when he has time." Janet watched him as his fingers played restlessly with the knives on the table. He had mentioned Daniel's presence during his captivity when she had pried the truth out of him while he was in withdrawal. Janet was still not certain what to make of it. She had tended to consider it a hallucination, not completely unlikely to happen in such an extreme situation. But then, Daniel had ascended, who knew what that could mean? They had seen enough strange things in the SGC in the last couple of years. "Are those nightmares still troubling you?" she dared to ask, wondering why he always had to make it so difficult to let himself be helped. "On and off," he admitted reluctantly.
"Flashbacks?"
He was scowling.
"You had one today," Janet observed gently. "Just before the briefing, right?" His expression was answer enough. Janet knew, she would get no further. "Do you still have some of those pills I gave you?"
"Yes."
"But you don't take them."
"Don't help."
"Maybe you should take some tonight."
"So I'll be fit for duty tomorrow morning?"
"Colonel, I wouldn't declare you fit for duty if I had the feeling you were not. Frankly speaking though, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back there and have to deal with Ba'al again." "Might send me over the edge?"
Janet flinched.
"So, you did warn General Hammond this could happen?" Jack asked. "Doctor, I haven't eavesdropped," Jack said when she didn't answer. "I'm just familiar with this situation. I know that people can be sent over the edge with something like this. Didn't end too well the last time." "With you?" Janet enquired surprised.
"No, not me, I was just the CO who had to deal with this on the team. We had to take somebody with us who was supposed to know the place. It went wrong big time when he lost it." "Colonel, you are not alone on this, you've got your team, they trust you, and they'll help you." "Do they still trust me?"
"Yes, they do."
"But if I screw up it might cost them their lives."
"You won't screw up, Colonel," Janet said firmly. "Just don't forget that sometimes you should talk about things and not bury them inside you. Don't try to hide your flashbacks. You don't want to have McKenzie into this, I understand that, but at least let your team help you through it. It's difficult for them if you shut them out. I know they trust you, but you should also trust them with this." Jack sighed.
"Let them help you," Janet said softly. "And now go home and get a good night's sleep. Briefing is at 0530."
 
Jack O'Neill sat on a boulder staring out on the plain. Far away, nearly vanishing in the washed out brown blueish colour of the mountains Jack could see the fortress. Ba'al's fortress. It was nearly two daytrips away from the Stargate, an uncomfortable distance for it meant they had to camp overnight on their way there and back. They had left the SGC early that morning, following the short briefing. Carter and Major Coburn had outlined their plan for the destruction of the fortress, based on the plans of the first fortress. They had worked through half the night coming up with a feasible plan. Their problem was, of course, that they had no idea which parts of the construction were already completed and which were not. A UAV had been sent out, but got lost. So basically they would have to rely on spontaneous decisions after they knew what they had to deal with. Jack didn't like their plan for one minute. Truth be told, he didn't like anything about this mission. But as Teal'c had pointed out "time was of the essence" and they just didn't have the time for recon missions or cunning plans. Neither did they have time for reluctant Colonels who wanted to run away from their duties. After the MALP had indicated the vicinity of the Stargate to be secure they had moved out. Jack had felt the eyes of General Hammond and Doc Fraiser on his back when he had followed SG-3 through the Gate and on P3X 848. His previous night had been nearly sleepless, he figured he hadn't slept more than 3 hours, and still his sleeping bag didn't seem very attractive this evening. The whole day they had been hiking through dense forest and Jack had been acutely aware of his team, trying not to watch and scrutinize his every movement, while they did exactly that.
 
Jack heard footsteps behind him.
"Colonel." It was Major Coburn who knew better than to sneak up behind a special ops Colonel. "Camp is set. Lewis reported in, all is quiet around the Stargate." "Good." They had left two men to guard the Stargate, hoping it would stay as unprotected from Ba'al's Jaffa as it had been upon their arrival. "I still can't believe they are not guarding the Stargate in their situation."
"Their losses were heavy, he probably can't spare anybody."
Coburn took out his field glasses and studied their distant goal. "Any activity out there?" "We're too far away yet," Jack said.
"At least there are no ships or death gliders. It looks less than half finished. That's going to make it easier to get in and to destroy it." "Destroy it. I still don't believe that," Jack said. "Yu could do this with his mothership, but we can't destroy the whole damned thing with C4." "Carter is still on it. She has come up with an idea how to do maximum damage by provoking a chain reaction through the power generator and this gravity thingy. If that fortress is really built after those plans he seems to have distributed his gravity device pretty much everywhere." "Yeah."
"Carter thinks we can blow it up by making use of them."
"Suits me fine. As long as we don't get caught in the explosion."

 
After Coburn had gone back, Jack sat there watching the distance until the sun had set behind the fortress and darkness fell. Time to return to the camp where cold MREs waited to be eaten. They couldn't risk lighting a fire. The whole day they hadn't met a single person, nor any large animal either, but this wouldn't mean they were alone on the planet, even though it appeared uninhabited. Except for Ba'al of course. Coburn had already set a watch schedule and taken care of everything else.
Jack felt uncomfortable with the thought of sleep. He was certain nightmares would come up, as they had last night. After three hours he had woken up, drenched in sweat, begging Daniel to end this. That was one of the recurrent nightmares in the last weeks. While at first his nightmares had been the torture, the acid, the opening of the sarcophagus, it was now Daniel that appeared in his nightmares, always stubbornly refusing to help him. He hadn't wanted to face another round of this last night, so he had got up, getting up on his roof and gazing at the stars until it was time to leave. Of course, that moment Fred Hanson had slipped into his mind, the poor s.o.b. he had had to take with him on a black ops mission. The guy had been supposed to know the place, where they had done to him whatever they had done to him, nobody had bothered to mention this small detail to Jack who had been just the CO of the unfortunate outfit. He had lost two good men, not to mention Hanson whom he had to deliver to mental health when the unlucky team had finally made it back, more of them were dead than alive. It used to be good stuff for his nightmares, until Iraq, after which his nightmares chose other priorities. His own team, except Jonas, were long familiar with their CO's nightmares. Nobody had ever raised the subject to the Colonel, with the exception of Daniel of course, who could never leave anything uncovered and who had had his own share of nightmares to deal with. Jack certainly didn't need any Marines becoming privy to his nightmares. He was certain that Coburn and his team didn't know what exactly had happened to him in Ba'al's hands. All they knew was that the Tok'ra inside of him had abducted him, fled his body later while Jack had got caught by Ba'al and then escaped during Yu's attack. Jack was strangely relieved when he found Teal'c sitting right besides his own sleeping bag. The unspoken promise to be there when and if Jack needed to be woken.
 
"O'Neill, you have to awake." Teal'c was not surprised to hear the Colonel starting to mumble in his sleep. "O'Neill."
Jack O'Neill's eyes snapped open. After one short moment of complete disorientation he took his surroundings in. "Aarrrgh, Teal'c, you're crushing my arm," Jack muttered.
"You were dreaming loudly," Teal'c said, letting go of his arm.
"Yeah, sorry for that." Jack struggled out of his sleeping bag. They were still on this damned planet, on their way to Ba'al's second fortress. He must have been insane when he had agreed to this. He wondered briefly how many more fortresses Ba'al was planning on. Teal'c had the last watch that night. It was always a comforting thought having Teal'c take last watch, early morning was the most dangerous time and he would never have given that watch to Daniel, or to Jonas. It was early in the morning but still dark. A greenish full moon on the verge of setting cast eerie long shadows of the trees. All was quiet around them, only the leaves of the trees rustled in the soft cool night wind. Everybody seemed to be fast asleep. Jack got slowly up. Going back to sleep was out of the question, as so often, so he might as well get up. "No hot coffee," Jack complained while he opened his canteen.
"We have no fire, O'Neill."
"Yeah. I know that. Still a coffee would be nice." Jack settled down besides Teal'c. Teal'c was a good companion, not always prodding him into talking as Daniel would, or even Jonas who couldn't keep quiet for 5 minutes. Teal'c on the other hand was always a man of few words and they could spend hours in companionable silence. Last night Ba'al had appeared in his dreams. Gloating slimy snake-bastard, welcoming him in his fortress. Jack just hoped this dream wasn't a bad omen. "This time we'll finish him off," Jack said. "Otherwise he'll start building a third fortress." "This we will, O'Neill," Teal'c agreed without batting an eyelid.

 
They broke camp early in the morning. From now on their trip would get much more difficult. They had to leave the forested mountain ridge to get down to the plain. There were no trees, just scrubland and man high grass which turned out to be as sharp as razorblades. Their progress was much slower than intended, and it was already late afternoon when they reached the fortress. Twice they had to get out of the way of a Jaffa camp, both of which seemed empty, but they didn't want to risk anything. At the foot of the mountain they finally came across their first detail of Jaffa.
They zatted them before they even knew what was happening. Three times zatted and the two of them had disappeared.
 
Jack had never really seen the other fortress from the outside. When he had fled the first one with the women in tow he hadn't bothered to turn back once he had safely left the long and mazelike halls. Even half completed it was an impressive sight. High walls rose above them, crouching at the foot of the mountain it was built on, it seemed to grow high into the sky. It was a strange sight though, half completed, the right half of the big construction was already finished, while the left half was obviously about to be build hastily. Coburn sent out two men on a recon mission while the rest of them huddled in the shrubs. "We found three ways to get in without any guards," Sanchez reported whispering when he got back. "They seem to need every Jaffa on the construction site. There are about two hundred people working there, mostly Jaffa." "So, let's get in as fast as possible," Coburn said. "Teams of two distributing the C4. If Carter is right we'll get a chain reaction. We do this according to the plan."
 
This was too easy, Jack thought, when they were finally in and had separated into teams of two, with 2 teams on their way to the power generator. They worked quickly and efficiently, distributing as much C4 as possible, slowly working their way to the centre of the building, where they also supposed Ba'al to be. Even half completed, the fortress was big. Endless hallways, big halls, and everywhere Ba'al had his gravity devices installed. But no people. They were running along the halls for two hours without meeting a single Jaffa. The whole time Jack felt the familiar tingling at his neck which warned him of danger. He had learnt to trust his instincts, but retreating was not an option in this case. He could only hope it was due to the situation of being back to Ba'al's stronghold. "One more, Sir," Carter whispered when they were finished with another pack of C4. "We must be quite near of Ba'al's rooms now." "Can't be far. Next left must be where the sarcophagus is kept."
"We should put an extra C4 on that."
"No, even if he has no guards elsewhere, he's certainly guarding his box. Let's go to the right." They entered a small room through a familiar octagonal doorway with an exit to the left side. A gravity switch at the side of the door indicated that this was the last room.
 
"Move back, Carter," Jack suddenly shouted and tried to lunge for the door.
Too late. He should have seen it coming. He should have known ...
All of a sudden the world around them shifted.
"Ouch," Carter fell hard to the floor that had been a wall only seconds ago. "What is this?" Jack fell right besides her. "Damn gravity device," Jack growled. He got back on his feet, looking up to the two openings which were both out of reach for them. Trapped. "What now?"
"Now you will be questioned by our Lord Ba'al," a voice above them said as a zat was fired twice, before Jack had a chance to shoot. Both crumbled to the floor, and while the tremors from the electric shock still ran through them, the gravity switched once again. "I'm getting too old for this crap," Jack mumbled when he recovered from the electric discharge. It was all too familiar. The yellowish brown of the wall, or the floor, whichever it was, Ba'al's broadshouldered goons, who hauled them up and he himself who still hadn't learnt not to resist and therefore heard his ribs crack.
 
Jack smelled it instantly when they were marched into the room and the bile rose. Acid, the acrid stench of the yellow acid, together with the stench of burnt flesh. His chest tightened. Jack felt the pain of the acid eating away his flesh, burning through bones ... "Colonel," a voice behind him whispered sharply. "Arghh."
An outcry from Sam, when the Jaffa hit her, propelled him back to the here and now. He tried to concentrate on the crushing hold of the Jaffa on his arms. Get a grip on yourself, Jack, he thought. You didn't come here to puke. We can do that later. Now there are more important things to do. Right, like what? Like recognising the host, Jack thought with a shock one moment later. Though he could only be 32, 33 now, his hair was grey, a long red scar ran from his left eyebrow to his chin, he was only skin and bones and Ba'al's ministration hadn't particularly helped in improving his health or his shape. Still Jack recognised him instantly, Captain Martin Stevenson. One of the two lost members of SG-9, missing in action for nearly two years now. Jack himself had led the search and rescue mission to retrieve the two but they had had no luck. Both people, the boyish Marty together with Major Blunt had seemed to have disappeared without leaving a trace. The prisoner had already suffered through this round of torture. His head was hanging down and he seemed half out of it. Apparently he wasn't even aware of two more prisoners being marched to Ba'al. The Goa'uld turned when they entered. His whole expression spoke of pleasure at seeing the Colonel again. "O'Neill with two Ls," Ba'al said as a welcome and got up from his bench.
Jack shuddered at the familiarity of the room, up to the last corner it seemed to look like the other one. The doors were still opened, when they heard another detail of Jaffa marching near. Jack turned, when they entered. Sanchez, sporting a black eye, and Jonas were shoved in and pushed to their knees. The Jaffa guarding Jack kept him in their crushing grip, while Carter was pushed besides Jonas. "I gather you are longing for my sarcophagus." Ba'al did a few paces in their direction, hands on his back, quite satisfied with himself. "I am pleased you enjoyed my hospitality so much that you chose to come back. I promise you, you will get a memorable welcome." Ba'al came close. Just standing one pace in front of Jack his eyes glowed. Had the two Jaffa not held him in their crushing grip, Jack would have stepped back. He wanted to step back. Actually not only step back, but run. He had a good idea that this was going to get unpleasant. "Certainly you did not come back for a reunion with your symbiote Kanan. Anyway, he has chosen another host in the meantime." Ba'al glanced at Stevenson who had closed his eyes. "Kanan does not do so good at the moment, neither does his host. He seems a bit weak." Ba'al went back to his bench. "So, O'Neill, you will have to wait until I have finished off this cowardly Tok'ra this time, then I will attend to you. Of course, you are aware that I have to punish you for your insolence, are you not?" "I don't think so."
"You dared to flee and abduct my slave, of course you have to be punished. Later you are going to be questioned. I will give you the right to choose which one of you is going to be the one." Ba'al stepped along the line of prisoners, took Carter's chin. "Maybe you will choose the woman?" He stepped on, gazing down at Jonas. "Or this one, I do not think he will resist as much as you did. He is no warrior." Now how did Ba'al know that, Jack wondered. They had never been in a similar situation with Jonas before, so Jack couldn't know how Jonas would react to what was about to come. Most certainly he didn't want to find out. "You have the choice, O'Neill. I will give you some time to think about it."
He signalled his Jaffa and the four of them were marched out.

 
The cell looked exactly like the one in the other fortress. Yellow walls, gravity device, two benches, four lights, one door, which was above their heads and out of reach. "Power failure would be nice now," Jack mumbled as he struggled to get to his feet. The Jaffa had turned the gravity switch rather fast, so both of them had fallen hard on the floor. "Where are Teal'c and the rest?" "They must have been delayed, held back. They should be here by now," Sam said.
The Jaffa had marched them to their cells, shoving Jonas and Sanchez in one cell, him and Carter into another one, further down the hallway. "Yeah, should be. But are not. Hope they won't blow the fortress up while we are still in here. Although ..." "Colonel?"
Jack sat slumped on one of the benches. "What?"
"Although what?"
"Uh, forget it," Jack said wearily and closed his eyes.
"Colonel?"
"Hm?"
"When he asks you to choose one of us, let him take me."
"What?" Jack opened his eyes.
"He said he would ask you to choose one of us to be questioned. Take me."
"No."
"Colonel, please, you've been through this, you can't ..."
Wearily Jack glanced at Carter. "There is no other choice," he said softly.
"But he would do the same to you all over again."
"And that's exactly why I have to do this." His voice sounded raw, harsh. He tried to shoot Carter a CO's glance. "This is an order, Carter, when he asks, then it's me. Subject closed." He closed his eyes again, shutting her out.

 
They heard footsteps above their heads. Sam looked up to the door. The two Jaffa had appeared. Sam threw a glance to the Colonel who had got up. Nearly imperceptibly he shook his head, negating her question to attack them. He knew it would be to no avail. The gravity was switched, both of them fell hard to the floor, and the Jaffa used the moment to grab Jack.
 
Wrong turn, Jack thought when they marched him along another hallway than expected. Where were they going? Where was he going, was the question, he thought one moment later. Obviously not to Ba'al's normal room of pleasure and enjoyment. They marched him down a stairwell. Another staircase, and another, and another. Hell, they were obviously on their way to the dungeon, to a torture chamber in the basement. He couldn't remember having seen one on the plans of the fortress, but any fortress had one, and he supposed Ba'al's was no different. The hallways were no longer regal hallways, but small and dark corridors. The air was damp, light was scarce. They stopped and one of the Jaffa opened a door to the left. Welcome to pleasure chamber number two, Jack thought. The room was small, but certainly big enough for its purpose, whatever that was, the light shone red. There was nothing in there. Cold stone floor, cold stone walls. The dungeon. So now what? They shoved him in.
"Now what?" He asked loudly when they left.
One of them turned. "Our Lord Ba'al will arrive any minute."
Great. Ba'al must kill Stevenson/Kanan first, then he would be the next. Busy snake. How long was the waiting list? Wearily Jack examined his new cell. Not that he expected any weapon or escape route, it was his soldier's instinct. Get to know your surroundings. Just in case.
 
He didn't even have time to settle down. The door opened again, in came the two Jaffa, then Ba'al. The goons took a place on each side of the door, Ba'al came nearer.
"So, O'Neill, now I have time for you. I would not have expected to see you again. But I am glad you chose to come back. We were not finished last time." "I had enough, thank you."
"But you have not experienced even half of it. This time you will have no chance to flee. I will teach you not to resist me as long as you did last time. Those who resisted first make the best slaves later, once they are broken." "Go to hell," Jack spat.
"I will show you what hell is."
"Been there already," Jack muttered under his breath. Yeah, been to hell and back. There were some things one really should only do once in a lifetime. Ba'al signalled his Jaffa, one of the Jaffa gripped his arms from behind, while the other came nearer, carrying something, a big mug which smelled of ... Jack wasn't certain, but thought he could smell the acid. He wouldn't force him to drink the acid, would he? "You will drink this now," Ba'al said.
"No chance." Wrong answer, Jack thought. But Ba'al didn't seem to be impressed anyway. Last time the snakehead had been eager on getting answers, this time he didn't even ask questions. "I seem to understand that the Tau'r i have a protective attitude towards their fellow beings," Ba'al said slowly. "I even have seen stupid Tau'ri letting get themselves killed for others." And that's something the likes of you will never understand, Jack thought. That's exactly what got lost with their magic box. Humanity. "If you do not drink this, I will get the female."
Jack stopped struggling. The female? Carter?
"So, are you going to drink this now? I want an answer!"
Defiantly Jack stared at Ba'al.
"What is the answer? Shall I get the female?"
"I ... I'll drink," Jack mumbled.
"Good. But first you will undress."
"What?"
"Take your clothes off! Now!" One look gave the order to the two Jaffa who saw to it that he ended up naked within seconds, his clothes landing in a heap on the floor. Jack recognized a bad situation when he saw one, and he knew he was in deep shit now. But he had known that all along, hadn't he?
 
The liquid burnt its way down his throat. Acid and molten iron together. Heat exploded in his body. His throat, his stomach tried to constrict, expell it, but couldn't. He tried to breathe, and couldn't. His heart raced, felt as if it would explode anytime soon. His vision blurred, he felt the beating of his heart in his head, everywhere, his whole body throbbed, convulsed, shivered, spasmed. Pain. Everywhere there was pain. Jack didn't realize the Jaffa had let him go.
Impassively they watched him writhing on the floor, curling up, shivering, moaning, whimpering, as they had seen so many prisoners before. Only the strongest survived this ordeal, if Ba'al let them, and they knew, their Lord would be occupied for several hours now. "Give him some more," Ba'al ordered, after the Tau'ri had apparently got through the first wave of pain. They had no problem forcing another mug of the liquid into the human's throat.
Too weak to resist, dazed, his whole body on fire, Jack felt more liquid fire run down his throat, he retched, tried to breathe, gulped for oxygen, but his chest was tight, dizziness overwhelmed him. He lost any sense of time. His whole universe centred on the molten lava coursing through his body. His very being was pain, nothing else was left of him, his life, all his life seemed to have aimed at this agony, singled down to it. When he became aware of his surroundings again, he found himself curled up on the floor, shivering in hot fever, trembling in cold chills. It felt as if acid or fire, or both, were circulating through his blood vessels. He tasted blood in his mouth, opened his eyes, felt tears in his eyes, on his face.
He couldn't make out what was happening to him. Remembered having drunk molten lava. Every breath felt as if the air burnt it's way into his lungs. Every single nerve in his body seemed to tingle and spasm. Booted feet stepped up in front of his eyes.
His eyes followed the boots, the legs upwards, and there was Ba'al towering above him.
Ba'al opened and closed his mouth, he seemed to talk. Jack could only hear sounds of him talking, was unable to understand a word, a drug-induced haze numbing his mind. Still he seemed strangely aware of his surroundings, once he had opened his eyes. He was lying on the cold stone floor, naked, the cold sending chills through his bones, while at the same time he felt as if a fire would burn him up from the inside. He had curled up in a foetal position. Wished to escape this nightmare, wished it would end ... end ...end. It took Jack some time to grasp the sense of Ba'al's words.
"Are you finally ready?" Ba'al asked.
Ready? Ready for what?
Ba'al touched him. His boot touched Jack's knee. He didn't hit, just nudged him.
Jack screamed.
Waves of pain ran through him, when his knee exploded. His whole body convulsed in an electric shock. Jack gasped for air, his arm instinctively shooting to his knee, to protect it, nurse it. He touched it, and screamed, bit his lip in an attempt to stop screaming, was unable to contain it. "Maybe you want to know what you just drank so readily," Ba'al said, when Jack was finally able to comprehend words through his painfilled haze. "This is Shak'Ra, the Essence of Ra. It is a combination of the tal'vak acid, - you remember the acid, do you not? - with powerful drugs. This is a very old recipe. Very effective and educational. It sets your nerves on fire and enhances pain. Even a simple touch of my hand will give you pain." He touched him again, to prove his words, and it sent Jack screaming again. "Anything more than a simple touch will wish you to die. But," he waited some time, so his prisoner could comprehend his words, "this drug not only heightens your sensation so you are better able to feel pain, it also prevents unconsciousness for the first day. Your only way out would be to die. But I will not let you die. Not now." Not now? So maybe ... later?
"Have you any idea how it would feel if I let the acid drop on you now? Or if I inflict a simple injury such as a broken bone on you?" No, and he didn't want to know.
"But we will save this for later," Ba'al continued. "I told you, I do not want to kill you just yet. Now I will only punish you for fleeing and abducting my slave. I need nothing more but my hands for this." Only punish? Jack's mind focused on the word, only punish. Insane. Either Ba'al was insane, or he himself. Well, no doubt he would be soon. "Go to hell," Jack mumbled sluggishly, not capable of forming comprehensible words.
"When I will kill you this time, it will be final, you will not get time in the sarcophagus again." Good. This was a promise. Hopefully the snakehead was going to keep his word.
Then his world exploded into pain.

 
Nothing more than his hands, the words kept repeating themselves in Jack's mind. Nothing but hands, nothing but hands. Hands that touched, hands that set his body on fire, hands that gave pain, sent waves of shocks through his nerves, until he screamed and screamed. Nothing but hands. How was it possible to inflict so much pain only with bare hands? Jack was unable to form any words, or he would have begged, begged Ba'al to end this. He wasn't even able to form any thoughts, dazed and numb, his mind kept repeating the words "nothing but hands" over and over again. Had Ba'al asked him questions now, he wouldn't have been able to answer, hell, he wouldn't even comprehend the question, but he would have told him anything, he would have sold his soul, just to get the snakehead to end this.
 
Jack didn't know how much time had passed when he finally felt the pain receding slightly, or when he gained awareness of his surroundings and opened his eyes again. It could have been one hour, 10 hours or even 24, and actually it didn't matter. His world had shrunk to painfilled agony, nothing else existed, nothing had ever existed before, and nothing would exist later. His universe was agony. Bare hands had touched his naked form over and over again. At first Ba'al had only touched him, nothing but a mere touch of hands had sent him screaming. He had touched him all over his body, everywhere. Jack had drawn up his knees, to protect his vulnerable parts, lest Ba'al could touch them. But as any touch would send him screaming, Ba'al convinced him easily to uncurl, threatening with acid, to let him touch wherever he pleased. Jack had complied, because the small part of him that realized what was being done to him also knew that far worse could be done. So he had let Ba'al touch. Touch and squeeze. That bastard had touched and squeezed alright. And the painfilled bundle that was Jack had screamed. But he didn't stay at touching, touching didn't suffice the slimy snakehead. He had torn and twisted his limbs. Later he had kneaded and pinched, prodded and poked, and scratched his pointy fingernails along sensitive parts of his body, along his arms, his thighs, his chest and his back. It had felt as if his members would be sliced open with a dagger down to the bone. Only his hands, nothing but his hands. Fingernails had become daggers, touch had become fire.
There had been eerie moments when the tiny awareness of himself that still existed seemed to float above his body. Then he was at once screaming and writhing in pain, and at the same time he was dispassionately watching the naked, sweaty form of Jack O'Neill, lying on the floor, being touched by the Goa'uld. Then he was seeing the slimy snakehead, all content with himself, enjoying the pleasure and entertainment he was finding in torturing prisoners or slaves. He saw Ba'al revel in his ministrations, revel in seeing a human form writhing in agony and being completely at his mercy, and he was even aware of Ba'al feeling happy with himself at being able to inflict pain without the need of daggers or acid. These weird out-of-his-body experiences always ended abruptly. Ba'al seemed to realize when he drifted, tried to shut himself off and whenever he became aware of it he drew him back, sent him back into the fiery hell his body had become. He never lost consciousness. Just as Ba'al had said, he was aware of what was happening to him the whole time. There were only moments which were so agonizing that his mind seemed to blank out, when his body thrashed in agony but his mind seemed to be cut off. Those were the moments Ba'al stopped touching, to let him recover. There was one moment when an all clear Jack wondered how Ba'al could know the difference between the states in which Jack was drifting, shutting himself off, trying to hide and those states in which his mind blanked out and nearly shut down. Stupid Jack. The bastard had the experience. Had certainly experienced in the past, had tortured and killed enough slaves to know when he had to stop and when he could go on.
 
Jack's eyes searched the booted feet, didn't find them. He was lying on his right side. He tried to move his head, pain shot through him. He closed his eyes, waited for the pain to recede. When he opened his eyes again, he looked around the room. It was empty. Apparently Ba'al was giving him a break.
Part of the game. Give the prisoner time to recover, then continue. Any minute the door could open and Ba'al would step inside. He felt drained. His body hurt, throbbed with pain, was burning.
That moment the door opened and Ba'al entered.
"I see you are with me again, Tau'ri." The booted feet stepped nearer.
Evidently the short respite was over. Instictively Jack curled up. "Snaky bastard," he muttered, "go to hell." Ba'al crouched besides Jack, his hand hanging losely on his knee, only millimetres away from touching Jack. "You are insolent. I thought you would have learnt by now what pain ..." Jack drew his knees higher to his body, and with one movement he let his feet impact on Ba'al's knees. Ba'al fell back, stumbled but quickly got up his feet.
Had Jack been in better shape, he might have done some damage to Ba'al, he would have thrown himself on him, but in his current state he was no match. No human had ever been a match to a Goa'uld. He couldn't injure Ba'al, only make him mad, which could be good or bad, depending on how controlled Ba'al was right now. Before Jack could even think about another move, exhausted and weak as he was, the door had opened again and the two Jaffa were right besides him, not touching him, as Ba'al's handsignal stopped them. "I know what you want to reach, Tau'ri. But I will not kill you now. Instead you will now drink some more Shak'Ra. The drug is still racing through your blood, if you drink now another cup, it will double your sensations." "The hell I will."
It didn't take the two Jaffa much to force his mouth open and empty the mug into his throat. Just one touch was needed to convince him it was wiser to comply, and everything started all over again. "Stubborn Tau'ri," Ba'al said, when Jack was finally able to make out his words. "One should expect you to be able to learn, apparently I was mistaken. You try to challenge me with your stubborn resistance. It seems to take you much longer to learn than others before you. But there is no doubt about it, even you will cease to resist and defy me sooner or later. As you are asking for more, you will get it." Ba'al went a few paces away, and when he came back, Jack recognized immediately what he held in his right hand. Pain-stick. "I gather you have already become acquainted with this. I had it modified, so it serves even better my purpose." Jack felt his heart clutching, he tried to shrink back. Couldn't move, had no control over his trembling body. His eyes were fixed on the device, which was all too familiar to him. "I see you appreciate my punishment. It will make you a better slave, once you give up to resist." With that he touched Jack with the pain-stick, and the contact alone sent waves of pain through his body, before he even switched it on. That was the moment when Jack definitively lost it.

 
When he opened his eyes the next time it was nearly dark around him. For a long time he just lay there, unable to form a thought, to comprehend where he was and what had happened to him. Then he became aware of himself, as he was lying naked on the rough stone floor. He felt infinitely drained and exhausted and his whole body throbbed with pain. Then a name appeared in his mind: Ba'al.
Insane snakehead forcing him to drink molten lava.
He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. His sluggish mind still remembered Ba'al saying one couldn't fall unconscious during the first day. Or maybe Ba'al was wrong and at one time his pain-stick setting had been several levels too high. Even in a normal state, without the drug, the pain-stick made him scream, he had experienced it often enough. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the agony it gave him under the influence of the drug. He didn't know how long or how often Ba'al had used the device on him, everywhere on his body, even the most vulnerable and sensitive parts. He seemed to remember that there had been one moment when his body was on the verge of shutting down, when suddenly all sensation had ceased, when he was still conscious, but blackness had started to encroach his mind and he had felt nothing anymore. At that moment his mind had known he was going to die. He had died often enough before, he knew how it felt to die. His body had relaxed, no longer convulsing, gratefully welcoming what was to come. Ba'al had also recognized what was happening. He had stopped at that moment, not wanting to release his prisoner yet.
 
Jack drifted in and out of consciousness without any idea about how much time passed by. It didn't matter, as long as Ba'al didn't return, as long as he didn't continue. Nothing mattered. The pain slowly receded to a more tolerable level, tolerable in comparison to the agony that he had experienced before. His nerves were still on fire with remembered pain, he was still shivering and trembling, but this time he was able to move. He was alone in the room, lying in his own dirt, as he realized now. He felt cold, cold from the stone-floor he was lying on. The molten lava in his veins seemed to have calmed down. Groaning he managed slowly to sit up. Took a deep breath to master the dizziness and when the world stopped turning around him, he started checking his body for injuries. His body felt as if it had been sliced and ripped open at several spots. To judge by sensations, his arms and legs and his chest should be torn open down to the bone, his whole skin should have been peeled off. In short, he felt as if he had been put through the mill. Yet when he scrutinized his body, his skin was intact with the exception of a couple of scratches, not even burn-marks from the pain-stick were to be seen. The only injuries he could find were where he had drawn blood with his fingernails. His palms showed bloody halfmoons, which went deep into his flesh, likewise looked his thighs, where he had dug his fingernails in to control a pain that couldn't be controlled. His lower lip was deeply chewed and torn, and he tasted dried blood in his mouth.
 
He flinched when the door suddenly opened. It was the two Jaffa. They entered and came over to him, one of them carrying two buckets, the other a mug. "Drink this," the mug was held in front of him.
"No. I've had enough." Jack croaked.
"This is water," the Jaffa said and pushed the mug in Jack's trembling hands.
Jack looked at it warily, it looked like water, smelled neutral. And anyway, if they wanted him to drink something he should better not, they had no problem forcing him. He tried to lift his hands to his mouth, but they wouldn't, just trembled, and nearly spilled the water. One of the Jaffa took the mug from him, held it to his mouth, let him drink. He drank with big gulps, only then becoming aware of how thirsty he was.
When the Jaffa withdrew the mug, he looked up at him.
The Jaffa understood and shook his head. "You will get more water later. This is enough for now." The other one came nearer now. "You are dirty." With that he emptied one of his buckets of water on Jack. Jack recoiled when the icy cold water hit him. It was not only cold, but as the drug had not worn off it sent waves of pain through him. The second bucket of water followed the first, then the Jaffa threw him a rag. "Clean and dry yourself. Then you will put your clothes on." The bundle of clothes they had taken off him earlier landed besides him on the floor. Jack slowly followed their order. The rag didn't seem particularly clean, but it was dry. Both of them stood there, watching him as he cautiously dried his body. He felt hyper. Any simple touch set his nerve endings on fire, drying his skin felt as if he would tear it off, felt as if he would rub salt in open flesh. His hands trembled. He felt exhausted as never before, spent and weary. His sense of time also seemed distorted. He seemed to move very slowly, his hands picking up one garment after the other, cautiously putting them on, trying not to increase the pain. All the while the Jaffa stood there unmoving, patiently waiting for him to finish.
"Come," one of them finally said, when he had his clothes on, shivering slightly in his black T-shirt, for the jacket had been taken off him before. When they marched him upstairs, they seemed unnaturally lenient towards him. Though each of them had grasped one of his arms, making certain he didn't get any stupid ideas, it wasn't the crushing grip they had used on him earlier, actually they more supported than restrained him, even gave him time to catch his breath instead of just dragging him along like a rag doll. They walked him down the hallway and stopped in front of an octagonal opening, Carter's cell. Carter was staring up to them. One of them reoriented the gravity and she fell hard to the floor. Apparently she hadn't yet learnt to be prepared. The Jaffa shoved him in, and waited long enough for Jack to lie down before the gravity slowly reoriented again, giving him time to slide to the floor, not letting him abruptly fall down.
 
"Colonel? Are you okay?" Sam got up from the floor, where she had fallen down when the gravity had switched again and got to Jack. "I'm fine," Jack mumbled automatically, his voice hoarse.
"Colonel, what happened? Are you hurt?" The Colonel looked absolutely exhausted, was deadly pale, the lines in his face deeply drawn. Sam worriedly touched his arm. Jack flinched and backed away from her, out of her reach. His breathing got ragged as he felt the pain shoot through him. "Don't touch," he ordered hoarsely, and slowly sank to the floor. "Just don't touch." "Colonel," Sam watched him, as he was lying down, curling up, closing his eyes, shutting her out. It took Jack a couple of minutes to get control back. He was shivering of the cold, but at the same time he still burnt up inside. He still could feel Carter's touch burning on his arm, right besides the grip of the Jaffa. When he finally opened his eyes again, Sam was sitting besides him, not touching him, but scrutinizing him, worry in her eyes. "Colonel," she finally said softly. "What happened? You were gone for a very long time."
"How long?"
"I don't know, they've taken my watch, but it must have been more than a whole day, at least one and a half, maybe nearly two." Jack closed his eyes. One and a half or maybe even two days? Something must have gone awfully wrong. "No sign of Teal'c or SG-3?" Sam shook her head. "No, Sir, and I don't understand it."
"Hope they'll turn up," Jack mumbled and let his eyes fall shut again. "Have to sleep."

 
Sam sat down on the bench, knees drawn to her chest. She had taken her jacket off and put it on the shivering form of her CO, who was lying on the floor, sleeping. His ragged breathing had slowed down, and finally he had fallen asleep. She felt as if she should be watching over him, not certain to protect him from what. Some time later she remembered what he needed to be protected from, nightmares. He had slept peacefully for some time, when his breathing changed, and he started tossing around. At first she couldn't understand what he was mumbling, until she finally recognized once again the "don't touch, don't touch." She got up and went over to him. Crouching down besides him, careful not to touch him. "Colonel," she said softly. "Nobody's touching you, you're safe here, nobody wants to touch you." "Don't touch, don't touch, don't touch."
"Shhh, nobody is going to touch you, you're safe here."
"Safe?"
"Yeah, you're safe, nobody is going to touch you. Just go back to sleep. You're exhausted." He calmed down again, falling back to sleep. She went back to her bench, sitting there, watching over him, dozing, wondering what had been done to him, wondering what had happened to Teal'c and SG-3, who should have arrived there long ago.
 
When Sam woke up, the Colonel was still curled up on the floor. But he was awake, his brown eyes watching her. "Hey, Sir, are you alright?"
"Hm. Peachy."
"I don't really believe that. You look terrible."
"Been worse," he muttered. "He ... he hasn't taken anybody else in the meantime?" Jack suddenly asked. "Ba'al? No." Since the Colonel had been brought back, she had forgotten Ba'al's threat that he wanted to question one of them. "Sir, you can't let him take you again." Cautiously Jack moved, tried to sit up, winced when pain shot through him. He had forgotten that particular prospect of his near future. Maybe ending up in a sarcophagus wouldn't be that bad right now, he thought wearily. Magic box taking the pain away. "Carter, don't argue." "Sir, please."
"Carter."
Sam winced when she saw his expression harden. It told her that there was no way of talking him out of this. By now she knew him well enough to know when it was possible to argue even when it bordered on insubordination and when she better accepted his orders. "Yes, Sir," she replied softly.
"Good." He settled back, closing his eyes. He was sitting there, trying to block out the lingering pain, trying not to think about the prospect of meeting this insane snakehead again. He didn't dare to think about it, because with every fibre of his body he knew that he didn't want to go through any of Ba'al's entertaining games again, and had he allowed himself to think, he would have to acknowledge that he wouldn't be able go through with what had to be done. Not long afterwards the two Jaffa appeared above them.
"Colonel."
"Yeah. I know," Jack whispered, lying down to be prepared for the switch of gravity.

 
They took him with them, leaving Carter behind.
Jack felt nothing, his whole being concentrated on just walking, on setting one foot in front of the other, leaning into the support of the two goons. They went right back to Ba'al's well-known room of entertainment. They stopped in the outer room of it, some kind of guard's room. Unexpectedly they offered him another mug of water, this time he was able to drink alone and he drank greedily. He was still feeling hot inside, as if he had a fever. Then the doors to the gravity-web room were opened. With wobbly knees and a queasy feeling in his stomach Jack let himself be led inside. Ba'al obviously had been busy. Did this guy sleep at all? Stevenson/Kanan was once again being questioned, and looked as if he was well beyond answering even the question of what his name was. Ba'al got up when they entered. "O'Neill," he came nearer. "I see you have taken no harm with my punishment, even though I have never before been compelled to give any Tau'ri that much Shak'Ra." Ba'al stopped in front of him, scrutinizing him. "This is the beauty of Shak'Ra, you don't even need a sarcophagus. Except of your raw throat and stomach there are no injuries to heal, and no one dies through Shak'Ra." "Great trip," Jack rasped. "Really."
Ba'al watched him for some seconds.
"And not over yet. Shak'Ra has irreversible affects on the nerve-endings of unblended Tau'ri. Should I choose not to kill you, you will experience times in which your body will remember the pain. Nothing can be done against this." Great, Jack thought. Remembered pain. That was something new to cherish. If the snakehead chose not to kill him. "So, have you decided who it is to be for me to question?" Ba'al then asked. "Did you choose the female?" "Take me," Jack said tonelessly, trying to suppress the quaver in his voice.
"You? This is your decision?" Ba'al asked thoughtful, staring at him. "Why?"
"Why what?" First Carter tried to argue, now he even had to convince Ba'al to torture him again? And where were Teal'c and SG-3? "I would have thought you would gladly choose somebody else. Or do you long for my sarcophagus? I know you are still in pain. But let me assure you, the sarcophagus would not remove the Shak'Ra induced pain from your body. Shak'Ra can only be absorbed by a Goa'uld." Nifty little invention, that drug. Not that he really longed to get into the magic box again, but right now he wouldn't have minded being painfree. "Why should I not take the female? Or the one who is not a warrior? He is of no use. Would you not like to watch somebody else being questioned?" No. No he wouldn't like to see Carter being tortured. Or Sanchez. Or Jonas. He didn't want to see anybody tortured. It made him sick. And it should make anybody sick. "No. You told me to choose and I chose myself," Jack said. Incomprehensible as it might seem, until now the Goa'uld still hadn't grasped the concept of compassion, of how far a human could go to save another one. But when Ba'al had threatened him with getting Carter to get him to drink the drug, Jack had known that at least this snakehead was close to discovering this, or maybe even had discovered it. He didn't want to have to watch any of them going through what was going to come. Neither did he himself want to go through it, still this was preferable to any other option. "Good. Then it is you," Ba'al decided. "But once we begin, it will be too late to change your mind." Ba'al went back to his bench, took a dagger from it. Pensively he played with a dagger in his hand. "You remember the dagger and the acid? Or would you prefer Shak'Ra?" Jack flinched.
"I see." Ba'al said. He winked the Jaffa to march him nearer.
"First you may watch while I kill Kanan. I have already killed him ... how many times?" he watched his prisoner, who hang at the spider-webbed panel helpless like a fly sticking on a fly-paper. "Ten times, twenty times? Maybe you will enjoy this as much as I do. I might even allow you a turn in killing him, after all it was Kanan that brought you here the first time. Would you like to kill him with the daggers?" Yeah, give me a dagger, could be an attractive suggestion, at least when it came to the snake. Jack would have even jumped to do it were the circumstances differently. Though hitting the host wouldn't do it anyway. Better throwing a dagger at Ba'al. Ba'al scrutinized O'Neill. "No, I see, you prefer the acid. I seem to remember that you loved the acid. It made you even tell me his name, Kanan's name." He walked a few paces towards the panel, Stevenson had opened his eyes but was unresponsive. "He betrayed you, Kanan, you are aware of this fact, are you not?" Stevenson didn't react. "He was most eager to tell me your name, seems O'Neill with two ls is no great friend of the Tok'ra. That's where we even have similarities. I think I will let him kill you with the acid first. Maybe this will even convince you to tell me the secrets of the Tau'ri. Tau'ri betraying the Tok'ra and the Tok'ra betraying the Tau'ri, not much of an alliance." Ba'al contemplated the bottle of yellow acid in his hand, then he slowly turned it and let the drop get caught by gravity. Jack watched the innocently tiny drop of acid flying towards the helpless victim caught in the spider web. Stevenson's blue eyes seemed unlikely big as they followed the drop. He opened and closed his mouth, but made no sound except for his ragged breathing. Then the acid hit his chest.
Jack flinched.
Stevenson screamed.
"Tell me what I want to know and I will end this," Ba'al repeated for the umpteenth time. "I do not understand this stubbornness." "I don't know anything," Stevenson groaned wearily.
"I am asking the Tok'ra inside you. The coward who fled so he would not get caught. Then he blended with you, you were not sick when he entered you. So you know what this Tok'ra knows. What is your mission here?" Jack could see that Ba'al was pissed. He had no way of knowing how many times Stevenson had already been killed and put in the sarcophagus. His ripped and blood-stained clothes were telling enough to assume it had been several times. Must be a frustrating experience for this snakehead who mistook himself for a God. Jack closed his eyes when Ba'al pointed the spout of the bottle again on Stevenson.
Unfortunately it was impossible to close one's ears as easily as one's eyes. Jack had no way of avoiding to hear Stevenson dying.
 
"So," Ba'al turned to Jack, while two of his goons dragged off Stevenson, undoubtedly on the way to be revived yet again. "It is your turn once more, O'Neill. I hope you have learnt your lesson in the meantime." With that the two Jaffa still holding him marched him on the platform and five seconds later Jack found himself pulled by the gravity to the web. He landed hard in the metallic grid, hard and painful, much more painful than it had been before. He knew, whatever Ba'al had planned for him now, would get worse because of the residual effect of the drug in his system. Of course, he also knew that Ba'al knew this. "O'Neill, why did you come to this outpost this time? To rescue the Tok'ra?"
Jack had closed his eyes. He tried to breathe deeply, still the blackness threatened to engulf him. The voice, the smell of the acid, the familiar feeling of the painful crushing to the grid. Gravity had pulled him towards it, no way to resist, resistance was futile. Now he felt the familiar pulling of gravity at him, and behind his back was a deep abyss waiting, in which he would be allowed to drop anytime. Breathe, Jack, breathe, he thought. Ba'al is only at the beginning of his entertainment. A long way to go. Jack knew he was on his way to losing it. He knew with absolute certainty that he couldn't go through this again. Not after what he had been through right before. What would he give away this time? Last time it had only been Kanan's name, he had been spared the humiliation of the final breakdown, of delivering the woman to Ba'al's torture. He took a deep breath. There was no choice, he just had to go through with it. "You've been there before, you can do it," a small voice whispered inside him. He opened his eyes when he heard the door open again. The Jaffa were escorting Carter in. Great. Would Ba'al only force her to watch what was going to be done to him, or would he even use her to put pressure on him? Had he finally grasped the concept of compassion?
 
Sam felt the crushing grip of the Jaffa on her arms. Not long after the Colonel had been taken, they had returned to get her and marched her into Ba'al's room. She stopped dead when she saw what was happening. She felt helpless, shocked at the sight of the Colonel, defenceless and vulnerable, hanging at the grid. After whatever had been done to him in the last 24 or more hours, he lived the nightmare again, a nightmare he had been through before, nobody knew how many times. How had he been able to agree to this mission at all?
She hadn't asked when the General had told them that the complete team of SG-1 would embark on the mission. Still she was certain that once again a particular string had been pulled, the same one she herself had pulled when she tried to get his consent to accept the Tok'ra. As before Jack O'Neill hadn't been able to say no. It always seemed to be him who drew the short straw. But how in God's name had he been able to decide to let Ba'al torture him again? She should have reasoned with him, talked him out of it. Of course, she knew Jack O'Neill's ways of thinking. Even now, when it was destroying him, he still had to protect his team, with his blood, his pain and his sanity, and if it came to this, with his life. She knew he considered this to be his right and his duty as the commanding officer and under no circumstances would he allow a member of his team to interfere. Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 
"So," Ba'al said, toying with one of the daggers he had chosen from his box of toys. "Why did you come back?" He studied the grey-haired Tau'ri-prisoner, the one who had resisted more than he had ever expected. Jack watched Ba'al weighing the dagger in his hands. Jack knew what was going to happen any second now. Ba'al would leave it to the gravity to point the dagger at him, then he would let go. Gravity would drive the dagger deep into his body, which was enough pain in itself. In addition to this there would be the effect of the drug. "To get Kanan, of course," Jack answered, his voice hoarse. "Why ask if you already know it?" "So if you came here to get the Tok'ra, this leaves still the question why he came back here. And what was his mission when he came here the first time." "I thought you questioned him. Hasn't he told you yet? You should ask him, how should I know?" "Ah, your impudence, O'Neill. You are asking for it, are you not?" Ba'al shook his head.
"Yeah, we talked about that one before," Jack retorted. The words slipped out of his mouth before Jack was even aware of what he was saying. Stupid. He should have learnt by now that it was wiser to think first and talk later. But he was certain he was going to get a lesson on this particular subject soon. "I thought I had taught you a lesson yesterday." Ba'al let the gravity pull the point of the dagger at Jack. The Goa'uld clearly enjoyed watching his prisoner who was aware of what was going to happen to him. He took his time until he finally let go of the dagger. "Arrrgh." Jack had tried to brace himself. He knew what he had to expect. Still he wasn't able to hold back a cry of pain when gravity drove the dagger deep into his right shoulder. He closed his eyes. Pain shot to the tips of his fingers, raced through his whole body. He felt the drug-enhanced effect of the pain. He tried to fight the waves of pain that threatened to engulf him. Felt the warm blood soaking his T-shirt. Pain and despair. He wasn't ready to go through this again, his state of mind was still too precarious from his last ordeal to be able to face this once more. He was tired of fighting, tired to wait once again for the welcome moment of blackness when Ba'al finally decided to kill him, when the pain vanished and with it his life. Ba'al removed another dagger from his box and scrutinized his victim. Without giving Jack time to prepare for the next hit, Ba'al let the dagger point at Jack and released it. "Arrgh." Jack felt his teeth draw blood from his already torn lip. Dazed he stared at his right shoulder where the second dagger had hit not far away from the first one, in an unexpected deviation from the routine. "So, what was Kanan's mission when he came here the first time?"
"Ask him," Jack mumbled.
"The daggers are still not able to convince you to cooperate," Ba'al observed. He removed another dagger from the box and scrutinized his victim. Jack's eyes were fixed on the third dagger. He wasn't certain anymore where Ba'al would aim this one. "I think there is another question you might be able to answer instead," Ba'al suddenly said while he sat down on the bench. "Where is the female?" "What female?" Jack asked. It was like living through a bad movie. "Groundhog day". Trapped in the time loop forever and ever. Only he would have preferred the loop not to be this living hell, in the hands of an insane snakehead. Moreover this time he had to put up with Carter being forced to watch this, not a pleasant thought either. Not to think of the possibility that Ba'al could consider torturing Carter to get them to reveal the truth. He would have prefered elusive Daniel trying to talk him through this in his cell. Though Carter certainly would be more helpful when it came to fighting against the Goa'uld. "The one that disappeared together with you during the attack," Ba'al said. He clearly wasn't satisfied with the response and behaviour of his prisoner. "Where is my slave? Kanan does not know, he still has not found her. Therefore it is you I have to ask the question. Maybe you do not know why Kanan searched her, but you do know where she is." "I don't know," Jack answered weakly. "She didn't come with me, I fled alone."
"I know you took her with you. Where is she?"
Ba'al weighed the jagged dagger in his hand. Then he let it get caught by gravity. "Where is she? I will not repeat this question. I want to hear an answer." Jack stared at the dagger that would hit him any second now. "I don't know."
"No," Ba'al suddenly exclaimed. He pulled the dagger back and laid it on the tabletop. "You do not know? Or do you not want to answer? Apparently my daggers are not convincing enough. However, I am certain the acid will help your memory as it did the last time." Ba'al made a show of removing the small bottle of acid from it's place. He removed and regarded it, put it down, took the other bottle, which neutralised the acid and scrutinized it. That one was put back on its place, before he finally grasped the acid again. "You remember these bottles, O'Neill?"

 
The acid. Burning once again through his flesh, finding its way to his bloodstream, spreading through his body. Burning him. Jack's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the bottle. His heart raced. Panic gripped him. He couldn't recall anymore how often Ba'al had already killed him with the acid. Hadn't he emptied the whole bottle on him last time he killed him? Getting killed by the acid was much worse than the daggers. A dagger in the heart was faster. But then, killing him quickly didn't seemed to be the purpose of this. And Ba'al's supply of acid seemed to be endless. Ba'al was ready to squeeze a drop of the yellow liquid.
Only seconds were left. Jack couldn't breathe anymore. His chest was tight. No air anymore. Blackness threatened to overwhelm him. He knew this was it. "Don't," he moaned softly without being aware of it.
 
Sam closed her eyes. She'd never heard Jack O'Neill begging. Not like this. This wasn't fair. Blood was already soaking his T-shirt from where the daggers had hit him. Now the acid would again burn its way through his flesh. How had he been able to go through this countless times? How had he been able to come back? She sensed his despair. They always had known that even the Colonel had his breaking point. There was only so much one man could be put through. She didn't want to witness Jack O'Neill being broken. Sam presumed living through the same traumatic event again had thrown the Colonel back to the first time he had been in Ba'al's hands. His anguished eyes were fixed on the bottle of acid in Ba'al's hands. It was quite clear he wasn't in the here and now. She tried to catch the Colonel's brown eyes. Tried to will him to look at her. She saw his misery, when his gaze imperceptibly shifted at her.The same moment she felt the grasp of the Jaffa who crushed her arms tighten. "Don't think of it," one of them whispered harshly.
She closed her mouth. She wasn't certain if the Colonel was really aware of her presence but tried to let him know that he was not alone this time. Teal'c and SG-3 were somewhere out there. She knew they would come sooner or later and tried to communicate this to him. "Tell me what I want to know and I will kill you - one last time!" Ba'al thundered. "You will kill no one anymore," a voice suddenly thundered in his back and then hell broke lose.
 
Teal'c was in rage, Sam could tell. A couple of staff weapon blasts and her two jailers lay crumbled on the floor, before anyone had realised what was happening. At the same time Major Coburn, right behind Teal'c shot the other two Jaffa still at attention besides Ba'al. Someone of SG-3 handed Sam a sideweapon.
While Teal'c and SG-3 engaged Ba'al, Sam ran for the gravity device.
Jonas was at her side now. Apparently SG-3 had got Sanchez and Jonas before they arrived here. "Jonas, get the Colonel as soon as I turn it off. I don't think he'll be able to stay on his feet." She waited for Jonas the get ready, near enough, but outside the field of gravity. Then Sam touched the device and the gravity field crumbled. Jack had his eyes on the fight between Teal'c, Coburn and Ba'al. He wasn't all too certain if this was real or if he had finally lost it and was hallucinating. The gravity stopped pulling at him and Jack suddenly wasn't crushed to the panel anymore. His knees gave way. Someone catched him and eased his fall as he collapsed to the floor. Jack opened his eyes. No hallucination. Jonas held him. His whole left side was throbbing with pain, and Jack had to breathe deeply to gain at least some control. Around him there was pandemonium. Another detail of Jaffa just entered the room, several Jaffa were already lying on the floor, dead or unconscious, he couldn't be certain. Teal'c seemed to be in an unforgiving mood today.
Teal'c, Coburn and two marines tried to get hold of Ba'al, who was elusive, as any Goa'uld, whenever they attacked one. But then, those snakeheads had thousand of years of practice in defending their miserable lives. Jonas tried to drag Jack to a quiet corner, out of harm's way, but Jack resisted.
"Colonel, you are injured," Jonas protested.
"Really?" Jack clenched his teeth. "Help me up," he ordered roughly.
Concentrating on struggling to his wobbly knees, he registered the cry of pain with delay. He looked up. Ba'al had grabbed Carter, left arm around her neck, dagger pointing at her throat. "Stand back," Ba'al shouted. "Or she will die."
"Bastard, slimy bastard," Jack mumbled. He was crouching to Ba'al's left side, with the Goa'uld concentrating on Teal'c and Coburn in front of him. Ba'al took slow steps backwards, dragging a choking Carter with him.
Positioning himself as an ideal aim.
Without even thinking Jack grabbed the handle of one dagger in his shoulder and pulled.
"Aaaargh." Intense pain let him cry out when the blade came out. Suppressing the pain, fighting the dizziness, he tried to grip the handle, slippery from his blood. He took a deep breath, blocked the pain and concentrated. With one quick movement he aimed at Ba'al and threw the dagger back at its rightful owner. Even with the left his aim was perfect. The dagger hit Ba'al's left upper arm. It caught the Goa'uld in a moment of surprise. His grip on Carter slipped.
Jack saw Carter charging Ba'al and slipping away.
Before Jack's determination could slip and within the blink of an eye, Jack grasped the second dagger, which had been the first to hit him and which was much deeper inside his shoulder. He clenched his teeth and pulled. Pain shot through his whole right side. Ba'al had turned slightly to his left. Jack took aim and threw the second dagger back at Ba'al. It hit Ba'al's left forearm. "Insolent Tau'ri," Ba'al shouted. He tried to lunge at the Colonel, but Teal'c blocked him. Then Jack spotted it on the floor. Ba'al must have lost it when Teal'c and SG-3 had attacked. It had fallen from the platform, rolled on in his direction when the gravity had pulled it. Jack grabbed the small bottle of acid with his left hand. With one quick motion, disregarding the throbbing pain in his right side, where the dagger wounds soaked his uniform, he got on his feet. He pushed a Marine out of his way to get nearer to Ba'al. He aimed for Ba'al's eyes. Then he squirted a liberal amount of the yellow acid right into Ba'al's face, right in his eyes.
 
This got even a Goa'uld. Ba'al screamed, clutched his hands on his eyes where the acid burnt its way through sensitive tissue. This gave Teal'c enough time. His staff weapon exploded twice on Ba'al's head from short distance. Jack saw Teal'c grabbing his zat and before anyone could react, the Jaffa zatted Ba'al three times. The same moment the fortress trembled with two explosions.
"We've got to move out!" Coburn shouted. He signalled Jonas to grab the Colonel, who was on his knees staring at the spot where Ba'al had disappeared. "Get Kanan," Sam called, "he must be in the sarcophagus."
She saw Coburn ordering two of his men to get the Tok'ra, while Teal'c fighted off another detail of Jaffa. Jack struggled to his feet. He was dazed and just followed Jonas' lead when the Kelownan started dragging him on his left side towards the door. Coburn had taken point, while two of his men guarded Jonas and the Colonel.
 
They were running along the corridor, when the two SG-3 members appeared. One of them had slung Stevenson/Kanan on his shoulders in a fireman's carry. The Tok'ra seemed unconscious and left a trail of blood on the floor. "How is he?" Carter asked.
"Not healed yet, but alive," Captain Sanchez reported. "Don't know if he'll make it. Don't think it's good to move him right now." "No choice," Coburn said and set them running again. "Move on, we've to get out. Those two explosions were premature." They ran on with Coburn leading the way. No time to ask if he really knew the way out, as the long hallways seemed to be endless, twisting and turning, crossing other hallways, opening to big rooms that were waiting to be finished but now never would be. Twice they encountered Jaffa who were charging them, shooting their staff weapons on them, but got shot themselves. Behind them a series of smaller explosions started and they felt the fortress tremble beneath their feet. "Come on, hurry," Coburn was waiting for them in the entrance, had cleared the outside, was waiting for Jonas and the Colonel. "Hurry up, run! Take cover!" Sanchez had replaced Jonas on the Colonel's left side. Coburn signalled one of his men to lead on. Then he lifted the Colonel's right arm. Jack groaned.
"Sorry, Colonel, we don't have any time to lose." Coburn lifted Jack's right arm over his shoulder, disregarding Jack's scream of pain. Together they ran for safety.
 
For a seemingly endless time they were just lying there, while a string of explosions made the fortress tremble, until it ended it one final mighty blast. Coburn had led them to an overhanging cliff below the fortress which protected them from the worst. Clouds of dust moved up in the air, came down to settle over everything which had rained down before. Jack just lay where Coburn had pushed him down, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.
Coughing and sneezing they waited for the dust to settle. Then Coburn got up. "Everybody okay?" He looked around the dust covered SG-Teams. "Colonel?" "Yeah," Jack confirmed hoarsely.
"What about the Tok'ra?"
"Still alive," Kim reported. "But barely so."
"What took you so long?" Sam asked.
"Got held up," Coburn coughed. "First we got encircled by half his Jaffa, that must have been right after they had captured you. Was a bit difficult to escape. Then we walked right upon this Tok'ra traitor and had to neutralise him. Took longer than expected." "What Tok'ra traitor?" Sam asked.
"This informant who passed the news on to the Tok'ra. His name was Tardeen. He was a Tok'ra but Ba'al had known that all along, he had tortured him and forced him to set the trap." "It was a trap for the Tok'ra?"
"Yep, for the Tok'ra. They didn't expect the Tok'ra to run to the Tau'ri for help." Coburn snorted. "Which leaves the question if they suspected it," Jack croaked.
"Who? The Tok'ra?" Sam enquired. "Colonel, you are not implying that the Tok'ra suspected it all along?" "Of course I am. They just needed somebody stupid enough to do the dirty work, that way uncovering the trap." Jack closed his eyes in an effort to control the pain. "And we were stupid enough." "I agree with the Colonel," Coburn said before Sam could protest. "Actually Tardeen had drawn the same conclusion when we ... asked him." "I just don't believe it," Sam said softly. "I don't believe my father would do it."
"He's also Selmac," Coburn said. "Maybe he's sometimes overruled." Coburn went a few steps out. "We better leave now," he then ordered.
 
It certainly hadn't done any good to Kanan to be moved, Sam thought. After they had finally left the perimeter, Teal'c had taken him and they had split. Teal'c, Coburn and Lieutenant Kim had hurried along, with the rest following at a slower pace. They marched fast and in silence. From time to time Sam scrutinized the Colonel.
Ever since they had left the site he had been awfully quiet and withdrawn. He communicated in hand signals and rasped short harsh orders. Jack O'Neill was pale and she could tell he was in pain. The lines on his face were sharply drawn. His right arm was hanging at his side. Sam was familiar with this side of the Colonel. Focused on getting them home, without regard to his own well-being. As they didn't know how many Jaffa had escaped their fate and could even have started tracking them down, they had to hurry and to watch out. So the faster they got to the Stargate the better and Sam knew the Colonel didn't like it a bit that they had to spend one more night on the planet. They stopped when they had finally reached the end of the plain. In front of them now were the hills, with the short but steep ascent. Sam sprang to the chance. "Sir, I need to have a look at this," Sam had a medikit in her hands which she had taken from Coburn's supplies. "Not now, Carter," his voice was rough. Took a step back, trying to avoid being touched. Once again Sam wondered what Ba'al might have done to him. "Now is exactly the moment," Sam said. "You're still losing blood. Give it five minutes, Sir." Jack O'Neill's whole right side was bloodsoaked. Coburn had given him his BDU jacket, as Jack had had only his ripped and bloodstained T-shirt on. Someone had done a quick first aid job on him and slapped an emergency bandage on his shoulder before they had left the fortress. Coburn dragging him on that side hadn't done any good either. The bandage was wet and red with blood. Sam didn't need to tell her CO that it had been stupid to pull out the jagged daggers the way he had done it, aggravating his injury when they had come out. Though actually, given the effect it had had on Ba'al, she was grateful for it. "Sit down."
"Carter, it's me who is giving the orders around here."
"Not in this case, Sir. So, sit down, Colonel."
"No," Jack replied. "Here and now. You can do it as well while I'm standing." He didn't add that his legs might not want to carry him any further if he sat down now, especially since the hills in front of them looked right like the Rocky Mountains to him. "Ouch. Easy, Major," he winced when she gently opened the bloodsoaked jacket and peeled it off. "Your ribs, Colonel?" Sam asked surprised. She hadn't realized that he had suffered more injuries. "Cracked or broken?" "Two cracked, probably," he admitted grudgingly.
"What is this?" Sam suddenly asked. She had turned her attention to his upper arm. The sleeve of his black T-shirt was torn, and gently she lifted it off. "You were hit by a staff weapon blast," she suddenly realised, staring at the blistered burn marks, which was charred around the edges. "In the fortress, when we ran, it's only grazed, I think."
"Janet won't like this. You should have told me right away. You know the sooner they are treated the better." "Carter," he commanded. "We didn't have time, and we had more important things at hand."
Sam sighed. She knew him well enough. With all the adrenalin in his blood he certainly hadn't even been aware of his injuries. "Any other injuries I should know of?"
"Don't think so."
Sam worked quickly and efficiently on his shoulder and arm. Janet had trained her on how to treat staff weapon wounds which had a tendency to cause nasty infections. So she spread a liberal amount of antibiotics on it before she bandaged it. Still she knew this would going to be bad. The sooner they reached the Stargate the better. "Anything against the pain?" Sam finally asked, after she had helped him in the uniform jacket again. "No, let's get on as fast as we can."

 
When Sam had finished treating him, they took the small path which would led them to the ridge of the hill. Now Jack really became aware of the nasty staff weapon graze. It had only grazed him, but the searing burn hadn't done any good in his current state. But as his injuries burnt anyway, one more didn't make that much difference. He had been running on adrenaline only, focused on reaching the Stargate. Unfortunately it would be at least noon on the next day before they could reach it. He knew an uncomfortable night would be waiting for him. One thought was comforting him though: this time Ba'al was definitely dead. This had been the last time that slimy bastard of a snakehead had had a chance to play with daggers and acid. His sarcophagus, his damn gravity devices, everything had been blown to pieces. He concentrated once again on the task at hand. Stay on your feet, get up the hill, follow the ridge. The ascent was steep and he had let Carter take point. Jack had refused to be helped by Jonas who was close behind him, touching still sent a tingling sensation through his nerves. It seemed to him as if he needed to stop and catch his breath after every five steps. He knew Carter was watching him worriedly. After an eternity they reached the ridge and he could once more concentrate on his feet. That was familiar. He had done that before. Block out everything, just walk. Walk until the daylight vanished or somebody tells you it's time for night camp, then fall down. Until then - just walk!
 
Dusk was already setting when they finally reached the place where SG-3 had already prepared their night camp. They had lost half their equipment, Jack and Sam hadn't been able to retrieve their equipment, wherever Ba'al's Jaffa had stored it, there had been no time to find it. "Colonel," Major Coburn already waited for them. He exchanged a glance with Sam, who was nodding slightly, confirming Coburn's worries about the Colonel's condition. "Major."
"A short time ago we had contact with Lewis at the Stargate. It's still quiet there."
"Good, hopefully it will stay that way."
"What about Stevenson?" Sam asked.
"The Tok'ra is severely injured," Coburn said. "We need to get him to the SGC as soon as possible. The sarcophagus just had time to revive him, not to heal him. He has nasty wounds from this acid all over his body. It ate it's way all through him and spread with the blood. Kim, our medic, is uncertain if he will survive. The symbiote seems to have been affected too." "Was he conscious?"
"Shortly yes."
"Who?" Jack asked. "The snake or Stevenson?"
"Stevenson actually," Coburn answered. "He wasn't really coherent, but seemed to have recognized us."
 
Jack was grateful that they had reached their camp for this night. He felt hot, and weak and the pain had steadily increased in the last couple of hours. He wasn't even aware of his team surrounding him and forcing him down on the ground, where a sleeping bag was already waiting for him. He gulped down half a canteen of water which was given to him.
"Sir, you're running a temperature here." Sam noticed after she had started checking him out once again. Jack didn't even realize that Sam was talking with the medic. Finally they pressed him a couple of pills in his hand. "Take these," Sam ordered. Jack was too exhausted and too much in pain to resist. He didn't know what she was giving him, and he didn't even consider to refuse them. He just took them, lay back and closed his eyes, throwing his left arm over his head while they were once again treating his wounds. "Try to sleep, Sir," Sam finally said. "Call if you need something."

 
Sam felt relief when dawn finally came up and that dreadful night was over. She hadn't closed her eyes for one minute that night and judging by the looks of everybody else, they had neither. The only one who was obviously completely out of it was Stevenson/Kanan, but this was to be expected, he was deeply unconscious. Nothing would have woken him. Everybody else had had no choice but to suffer with the Colonel. After he had swallowed the painkillers they had given him, he had calmed down for some time. But less than twenty minutes later, when the painkillers in all probability had taken effect, he had got restless. He started running a high temperature, was thrashing about, shivering in chills and sweating at the same time. Sam had touched his arm, tried to calm him down, her touch had sent him screaming. Then, after an endless time he had calmed down, had moaned and groaned and all the time he mumbled, "don't touch, don't touch," over and over again, and after they had tried a second time they had refrained from touching him. It seemed to have taken hours until he had finally calmed down. Sam had been sitting at his side the whole night, feeling helpless.
Teal'c had had no idea either, what could have been done to O'Neill, though he had mentioned a variety of drugs Goa'uld experimented with on prisoners. So Ba'al could have drugged him. Great. They had neither any idea, what could have been given to him, nor had they any means to help him in the middle of nowhere. All they could do was offer him some water from time to time and suffer with him through it.
 
It hadn't even starting dawning when they already began to break camp. They had rigged up a stretcher for Stevenson/Kanan before the night had fallen, and in the morning Coburn decided to have them build another one for the Colonel. When they finally left, Coburn took point, Sanchez and Kim started off with Stevenson/Kanan on their stretcher, Teal'c and Jonas followed with the Colonel, Sam guarding their six. The Colonel had been semi-conscious when they had packed up their gear, and he was clearly in no state to walk to the Stargate. Without even asking they had packed him on the stretcher, trying to be as cautious as possible. At noon Coburn called for a break. They had been marching through the forest for several hours now, Coburn and Sam alternating with Kim and Jonas respectively carrying the stretchers. Sam gulped some water of her canteen, when she saw weary brown eyes watching her. "Colonel." Instinctively she reached out to touch him but stopped short of his arm. "Some water?" "Yes," he whispered nearly inaudibly.
Cautiously Sam lifted his head, felt the heat of the fever radiating from him, and let him drink. "How are you feeling, Sir?"
"Hot," he mumbled. "Very hot. Burning."
"And the pain?"
"Tolerable. Better ... than before. Where are we?"
"Still a couple of hours to the Stargate, Sir."
"I should ... walk." Weakly he raised his head.
"No, you don't." Sam said. "You'll stay put, Sir."

 
All of them were bone-deep weary when they reached the Stargate late that afternoon. Lewis, who had been guarding the Stargate, had already dialled up Earth when they got near and Sam didn't want to think about what would have happened if Jaffa had been waiting there for them. Dr Fraiser and her medical team were already waiting when the ragged and tattered teams stumbled out of the Stargate in the SGC. Stevenson/Kanan and the Colonel were each lifted on a gurney. "Infirmary, stat!" the Doctor was shouting after a first look on both of them. "Janet," Sam kept the doctor back.
"What is it?" Janet quickly scrutinized her, seeing no obvious injury.
"The Colonel."
"What about the Colonel?"
"We gave him some painkillers last night and ... and they caused pain instead of calming it. Something is wrong with him." "Okay, thank you," Janet said. "And you will come to the infirmary right away, okay?"
Sam nodded, felt the hands of a medic checking her out.
"Everybody to the infirmary," she heard Janet ordering, before the Doctor followed O'Neill and Kanan.
 
Sam looked up when she heard the footsteps. She was sitting on her bed in the infirmary, too exhausted to move, too weary to think, and she knew if Janet found her that way, she would give her a sedative to force her to sleep. It was already late in the evening, several hours after they had come back and Janet Fraiser looked dog-tired and exhausted. "How is he?" Sam asked before Janet could even say anything.
Janet sighed. "I don't know. Physically, where his injuries are concerned, he will be all right. Otherwise ..." Automatically Janet started checking her out. "Sam, can you tell me what happened?" she finally asked gently. "What did Ba'al do to him?" Sam drew her knees to her chest. Janet had asked this question before. "Janet, I don't know what he did to him." "Teal'c said you were there when they got in."
"Yes, I was there when they got in, but that was the last time. Ba'al had taken him before. He ... he had said he would punish the Colonel, for fleeing and abducting the girl. I've got no idea what happened or what was done to him. He was brought back in my cell after an endless time, I guess he was gone at least one and a half days, nearly two maybe, and he was ..." Sam swallowed. "Janet, I've never seen him like that. He was dazed, confused, out of it, but there was no visible injury. I couldn't see one." "So he was put in the sarcophagus."
"I don't know," Sam said. "I don't think so. When he was brought back his clothes had no holes, no blood-stains. But he was in pain, and he wouldn't let me touch him. He just curled up on the floor." "Did he say anything?"
"He didn't say much, his usual 'I'm fine', and he was not really coherent. He just mumbled 'don't touch me' over and over again." "If he had been in the sarcophagus, he couldn't have been in pain."
"I really don't think he was put in the sarcophagus. Not that time. There was blood on his lips," Sam suddenly said, "as if ... as if he had bitten himself." "Like when you are in pain?" Janet asked softly.
"Yes, like that."
"What happened later?"
"I don't know. They took him first. Ba'al ... Ba'al had given him the choice," she said hoarsely. "What choice?"
"When he captured the four of us, he told the Colonel that it would be up to him to choose which one of us would be questioned and tortured later." Janet drew a sharp breath.
"When they brought me in, he was already ... hanging on the gravity web and Ba'al threw his daggers, threatened with the acid and then Teal'c came in." Sam was choking. "I ... I had asked him to choose me, but he wouldn't. I don't know what he did to him before, but the Colonel let himself ... be tortured again. I don't know how he could do it, I didn't want him to do it." Tears were streaming down her face. "Shhh," Janet took her, hugged her and tried to soothe her.
"We found some unknown substance in his bloodwork," Janet finally said when Sam had calmed down. "What substance?" Sam wiped her face with her arm, brushing the tears away.
"I don't know what it is. But when you gave him the painkillers last night, they must have interacted with whatever that substance is. Instead of killing the pain the opposite happened." "Oh my god."
"Yeah. This can happen with certain drugs. Ba'al must have given him a drug. I compared the substance from his blood with that acid from last time, and I think it must be part of it. My conclusion is that Ba'al has a drug which creates pain or maybe it enhances pain and as long as this substance isn't cleared out of him, I can't give him any medication." "But ... the staff weapon burn and the dagger wounds ..."
"Yes. We had to treat them." Janet said softly.
"Without, oh my god, Janet, you ... you treated him without painkillers, without sedatives?" "I had no choice, Sam. And what help are painkillers when they increase the pain instead of taking them away?" Sam clenched her hands, trying to get rid of the cruel picture she imagined. "How is he now?" "Still in pain, the fever hasn't broken yet, but better. Sam, you have to sleep now. No argument."
 
Janet Fraiser waited until Sam closed her eyes and fell asleep. Then she returned to the Colonel's room. Both the Colonel and Stevenson/Kanan had seperate rooms each, to give them some privacy. The Colonel was connected to all kinds of machines and she had been forced to put restraints on him, in case he thrashed about in his painfilled haze and tore tubes or IV's loose. She saw the small movement of his head when he heard her steps.
"Colonel, you should try to sleep," she said softly.
Brown eyes locked onto hers. His face was grey and he looked weary, exhausted and drained. "Can't," he answered hoarsely. "Has the pain got worse?" Janet asked and checked his vitals.
"No ... same." His eyes fell shut.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, as much as I want to, but I can't give you anything against the pain yet." "Hm."
Janet knew he drifted, tried to shut himself off the pain that must torment him. She couldn't help but admire him for his courage and stamina. Wearily she slumped into a chair, trying to block out the cruel images that kept popping up in her head. When the Stargate had thrown out the exhausted teams along with the two stretchers, she had already been alerted and her medics were standing by in the Stargate room. She hadn't been prepared for what was to follow, for having to treat the Colonel without any anaesthetic, without so much as an aspirin. While she had treated him she had wished he would fall unconscious. Normally he should have lost consciousness when she had cleaned the staff weapon wound without any painkiller. Anybody would fall unconscious. He had not. Apparently his chemistry was completely messed up, by what, she couldn't fathom. It wasn't the first time she had seen him in pain, nor the first time she had to submit him to a painful procedure. It was also not the first time she heard him yelping while she treated him. But nothing before could be compared to what she had to do to him that day. Even under normal circumstances the treatment of staff weapon burns was extremely painful, but that day it must have been hell for him. Even a normal touch of her hand had sent him on the edge, cleaning and treating the wound had been infinitely worse. Moreover the two dagger wounds showed extensive tissue damage, which she had stitched up and at times she had caught his brown eyes watching her working on him. They had had no choice but to restrain him while they worked on him. Somebody had given him something to bite on. It had been a very long two hours. It had been torture, no more, no less.
 
She was roused when the Colonel got restless again. Getting up she quickly checked his vitals. Until now he had held steady. He had started mumbling, throwing his head from side to side and it took Janet some time until she recognized what he said. "Don't touch, don't touch." Weakly his arms struggled in the loosely bound, padded restraints. "Nobody will touch you, Colonel," Janet softly said.
"Hurts ... don't touch ... don't ..." He yelped, and that moment Janet recognized this as some kind of flashback. His heartbeat increased. "Colonel, you are safe, nobody will touch you. No touch."
"No touch. Hurts," he groaned.
"Touch hurts?" Janet asked.
"Everything ... hurts." His fists clenched and unclenched. Then suddenly the fit was over and he calmed down. Janet saw him relax slightly. "Nobody will touch you," she repeated softly. "I know it hurts. Why does touch hurt?" She asked, trying to come up with a solution, wanting to get him to talk, wanting to get an explanation but not really expecting one. "Shak'Ra," he mumbled. "Shak'Ra."
"Shak'Ra?" Janet repeated, not certain if she had made out the word correctly. "Shak'Ra hurts?" "Touch hurts. Shak'Ra burns. Sets nerves on fire."
"We'll get it out of you, Colonel," Janet promised. "Just hold out a little bit longer." She waited another couple of minutes, then she nearly ran out of the room to get to Teal'c.
 
The Jaffa hadn't been hurt, but she had ordered him to kel'no'reem anyway. She hurried over to his room. Teal'c sat in meditation, surrounded by candles. "Teal'c." Janet knew he heard her.
"DoctorFraiser. Is something wrong with O'Neill?" Teal'c asked after a moment.
"No, Teal'c, no change, but I got something out of him. I need to know what Shak'Ra means." "Shak'Ra? Did O'Neill say Shak'Ra?"
"Yes, he said 'Shak'Ra burns'." Teal'c was clearly upset. "Teal'c, what does this mean?" Teal'c was on his feet now. "Shak'Ra means 'Essence of Ra'. It is a powerful drug that creates pain in itself and increases sensation. It is even unbearable for the Goa'uld when used on them. It is said that Ra created it to punish unlawful SystemLords." Janet felt her blood draining from her face. "Ba'al must have used it on the Colonel," she said. "That's why touching hurts. Teal'c, I need to know what components this drug is composed of. We need to get it out of him as fast as possible." "I will search for it right away," Teal'c said. "But I have heard that there always remains something in the body when given to humans. A symbiote can clear it out of the system, but without symbiote there remains a residue." "Could the Tok'Ra help us there?"
"We should ask."

 
In the small hours of the night Doctor Fraiser finally went back to the Colonel. The Tok'ra had answered promptly to their emergency call. Maybe they were aware of the fact that they really owed the SGC and Jack O'Neill something, though Janet rather suspected that they were more eager to learn more about Kanan's fate than anything else. Whatever the reason was, after Janet had described the situation, Jacob had delivered a vial with an antidote, which would help a Tau'ri, no matter what else had been given to him in the meantime. "Colonel," Janet checked the Colonel's vitals. He was still restless and in pain. She just hoped that the antidote would help and not aggravate his condition. "Hm."
"Colonel, are you with me?" Janet watched his pale, drawn face. She refrained from touching him. It took some time until Jack O'Neill dazedly opened one bleary eye, then the other one. "I've got something that will help clear the drug out of your system, much faster than we could do. I will administer it now, but it will be painful. Do you understand?" "Yeah," he breathed.
"It will take a bit of time, but when it's over, I'll give you the sedatives, okay?"
"Do it," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
Slowly Janet emptied the syringe into one of the IV-lines.
The effect was immediate.
"Arrghh." The Colonel started convulsing, shivering and trembling. His heartrate increased, the temperature shot up. Groaning and moaning he clenched and unclenched his hands, tried to curl up and fought against the restraints. Jacob had warned her. Janet thought she was prepared, and still she wasn't.
As she watched him, she grasped his left hand. He responded immediately and clutched her hand in a vicelike grip, which made her yelp softly. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned to throw the intruder out. She wanted to give the Colonel the privacy he needed to suffer and struggle through this. Nobody was to see this, even if it were the General. It was Teal'c. The big Jaffa stepped up behind her. "DoctorFraiser, it causes tremendous pain now, but it will help O'Neill." "I just hope so," Janet whispered.
"Do you require assistance?" the Jaffa asked when he saw her wincing at a new attack on her hand. "Could you ...?"
Teal'c gently opened the Colonel's grip on Janet's hand.
"I will stay here with him, if you do not want to watch it. I have seen this before."
Janet shook her head. "I have to stay, if he needs me ..."
Teal'c just nodded. Then he took the Colonel's hand, and let his own be crushed to give his friend something to focus on. Janet just sat there, watching and waiting, always one eye on the monitor to check the Colonel's vitals. All the while the Colonel clung to Teal's hand. His face wet with sweat and tears, he banged his head on the cushions, and rode out wave after wave of pain, and Janet was relieved the Jaffa was there. Then, after a seemingly endless time, it suddenly was over. From one moment to the next, Jack O'Neill calmed down. "It is finished, DoctorFraiser. You can give him the sedatives now." Carefully the Jaffa withdrew his hand from the Colonel's. Blood dripped on the white sheets.
 
There was no pain, when Jack gained awareness. No pain. So he had a few seconds left and then the lid of the sarcophagus would open again. Painlessness came only with the sarcophagus. Savour the moment, Jack thought. He had learnt that much, as well as he had learnt not to fight dying anymore. Now he even welcomed the blackness when it finally swallowed him and all pain ended. Death had become his friend, which didn't seem all that strange, considering what he had been through in his past. Now, as life had come back to him he'd soon be marched back to his cell ... and it would begin all over again. Maybe Daniel would be back with him. Daniel. How could he convince Daniel to end this? What had his friend become if he could stand by and watch as he was slowly ripped of his soul? Apparently ascending didn't include moral superiority. Or maybe it was morally superior not to interfere ... "Colonel," a soft voice said nearby. "Open your eyes, you're in the infirmary."
Doc's voice? He must be hallucinating. Without doubt also an effect of too much exposure to the sarcopaghus ... He had no idea how many times he had been in the box by now but he realized his sanity was slipping. "Open your eyes," the voice repeated gently.
There was a soft touch on his left arm. A touch ... another reality, another life. Touching hurts. The touch on his arm didn't hurt. "Doc?" he mumbled and reluctantly followed the order, still expecting to see the bright lights of the sarcophagus and two big Jaffa waiting to haul him out. No bright lights. Instead a grey ceiling. Beeping sounds. And yup, he smelled it. Definitively the infirmary. Weakly he took in his surroundings. The lights were turned down, colourful tubes and wires were connected to his body. He was hooked up to the usual machines and IV-lines ended in his left arm. Doctor Fraiser was standing besides his bed, smiling gently.
"Doc," he croaked.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fuzzy," he offered after a few seconds, confusion in his eyes, his mind too numb and sluggish to come up with anything else. "No pain?"
"No pain."
"Good. This is good. We got the drug nearly cleared out of your system."
"Drug? What drug? Did you ..."
"Shak'Ra," Janet said softly. "The drug Ba'al has given to you."
"Uh," he closed his eyes. "How do you know about it?"
"Fortunately I got you to tell me the name of it in the first night we had you back. Maybe you don't remember it. You should have told Sam right away about it. We asked the Tok'Ra what we should do." "Not again."
"I'm sorry, Colonel. We had no choice. Fortunately they could help us. I don't think you would have preferred me to tend to your wounds again without painkillers." "Ba'al would have liked doing it."
"Yeah, I can imagine."
"So ... the drug is gone?"
"Nearly."
"Nearly? What is that ... supposed to mean?"
"The Tok'ra told us that only a symbiote can completely absorb it. As you don't have one, there is a residue in your body. The drug affects the nerve ends, and as a result you will experience a tingling at times." "Great. I seem to remember Ba'al told me the same." He looked around. "How long?"
"You came back five days ago."
"Five days?" He licked his dry lips while his mind tried to comprehend what she had said.
Without asking she offered him some water and helped him drink. "Five days," she confirmed.
"I've put you under for three days after I could safely give you sedatives. Your team is fine, Colonel," she anticipated his question, "Teal'c is doing his kel'no'reem right now, and I've just ordered Sam to get some sleep before she topples over. Everybody is back at the SGC." "Everybody?" Jack asked.
"Stevenson, too, though his condition is severe."
"Don't try to sit up," Fraiser said, before Jack was even aware of what he was doing. Gently she pressed her hand on his left shoulder, to keep him down on the bed. "You still have two ribs cracked, two deep dagger wounds at your right shoulder and an infected staff weapon graze on your right arm, added to this you were dehydrated and exhausted, not to mention the drug, which also injured your throat and stomach. You're going to stay here for a while." "Great. My favourite place," he muttered weakly.
"Thought so." She gave him a quick examination. "You're really doing great, Colonel. Now just go back to sleep." Before he could so much as protest, she fed more sedatives into his IV.
 
Janet watched the Colonel's eyes fall shut as the sedatives did their work. She knew how he normally hated this. This time he had been in no position to argue with her about it, and she believed that for once he might even appreciate being knocked out. So she had done what she had thought would be the best after the drug had been gone and kept him 3 days sedated to get him through the worst of it, not the least being the painful treatment of the staff weapon wound on his arm. Three days in restful oblivion, without any nightmares or flashbacks. After all he had been through, she just wished she could heal his psychological trauma as easily as the physical. The nightmares had promptly returned when she had diminished the flow of sedatives to let him wake up. After she had sent Sam off to bed a couple of hours ago she had been sitting at his bedside waiting for him to regain consciousness, lightly touching his left arm whenever he had become restless. She agreed with his still worn-out team that he shouldn't be left alone. She wondered what she was going to do this time to spare him McKenzie. After all what Sam had told her, she knew that this time he had been close to breakdown and basically she knew there was no way to spare him the treatment.
 
Slowly Jack gained awareness. For some time he had drifted in and out of consciousness. For once he enjoyed the painfree numbness of his body thanks to Doc Fraiser's happy juice. He had come to several times before, only shortly, always a team member at his bedside, exchanging a couple of words, then he had fallen asleep again. Jack opened his eyes. Carter was slumped on the chair, apparently dozing. He lifted his left arm. There were still IV's connected to him, but no restraints. He remembered the restraints, remembered Fraiser treating his wounds. He remembered even having heard her mumbling something about torturing him. It had been painful alright, still it had been bearable in comparison to what he had experienced before. Or what had waited for him later, when Fraiser had given him the antidote. Then there was the still comforting thought that the slimy snakehead was in hell now.
"Hey Colonel."
"Carter."
"How are you doing?"
"Fine," he answered as usual. "Really, Carter. Doc's happy juice."
"You shouldn't have done this, Sir," Sam softly said.
"What?"
"Hiding that he tortured you and letting yourself be taken by Ba'al again," Sam answered. "Oh, that." Jack closed his eyes. When he opened them again he looked at her. "Did you really expect me to decide which one of my team I would like to see tortured? Choose you?" "Under the circumstances, yes."
Jack slowly shook his head. "No, under no circumstances."
"But ..."
"No buts, Sam. It was the only possible decision. What about Stevenson?" he asked, changing the subject before she could protest. "He's going to die," Sam said. "Apparently Ba'al has also tortured Kanan, he's severely wounded, even worse than the host. You remember that device with which Apophis had been tortured?" He nodded, and she didn't need to mention that also Jolinar had been tortured with it. "Kanan can't heal himself and he can't heal the host, so we asked the Tok'ra." "And?"
"They won't help Kanan," she stated. "They just refused to help him. He didn't behave as a Tok'ra but rather as a Goa'uld." "So they are going to let him die and with him the host? I thought they didn't want to lose any more of their kind." "Not behaving as a Tok'ra is reason enough for them. If they behave like Goa'uld, they are no Tok'ra anymore, they can't allow this to spread." Janet came in. "Colonel, I see you're awake again. How are you doing?"
"Fine."
"Let me have a look." Janet checked him out, quickly but thoroughly.
"Colonel," she then said hesitantly, "Kanan is conscious and responsive right now, he would like to talk to you." "To me?" Jack asked incredulously. "He didn't talk to me while he was inside my head, why now?" "There is not much time," Janet said quietly. "He's been badly tortured, repeatedly."
"He was revived and healed in the sarcophagus every time, how can this be so bad?" Jack asked. "I don't think Ba'al tortured Kanan the last time." "I talked with the Tok'ra," Janet answered. "Apparently the Goa'uld can use this device in a way which can't be properly healed in a sarcophagus, at least not repeatedly." "Why didn't he bug out this time?"
"Maybe he can tell you," Janet finally said slowly. "Colonel, Kanan said he would be willing to die so at least his host can be saved. These last days the symbiote has concentrated on healing the host, though he's actually too weak for it. He would like to see you first." "Then let's go there," Jack tried to sit up.
"Easy, Sir, not so fast," Janet ordered and pushed him gently back. "You are certainly not going to walk there."
 
Jack had no choice but let himself be pushed in a wheelchair to where Kanan was waiting in an isolation room. It was the first time she let him up at all, but he wouldn't have admitted the dizziness he felt. Stevenson was connected to all kinds of tubes and wires. Machines were beeping, his body covered in bandages. He didn't react when they entered. Janet wheeled Jack to the bed. "He's conscious but very weak," Janet said softly."There is not much time. Call me when you're finished." Jack waited until everybody had left the room.
"So, I'm here," Jack finally said.
Stevenson opened his eyes, they were bloodshot, glowed, and it was Kanan who spoke. "O'Neill," he said hoarsely, trying to catch his breath. "Where is ... the woman?" "She's safe."
"You ... rescued her?" His eyes searched Jack's.
"Yes."
"Safe place?"
"Yes, she's in safety, no harm was done to her."
"Thank ... you, O'Neill. I ... am ... sorry." The body convulsed and Stevensen coughed, blood appeared on his lips. "Not ... my intention ... to harm ... you, O'Neill. Learnt ... from you." Another fit of coughing sent the machines into alarm. Stevenson's hand searched to touch Jack's who finally put his left hand on Stevenson's arm. "Sorry," Kanan breathed.
"Why?" Jack asked. "Why did you flee? Leave me there?"
"No ... choice. Loved her ... Protect ... the woman ... the Tok'ra ... and you."
"Me?" Jack snorted. "Great protection, tortured by Ba'al. Guess I was your last priority."
"You ... live ...because of me." A coughing fit set the machines on alarm.
"Yeah, but I didn't ask for it. And anyway I was tortured because of you, and not only once, but twice. I even came back for you." Jack retorted angrily to the dying man - or rather Tok'ra snake - when the coughing subsided. How could he be angry at a dying man? A dying snake, that was. Still he couldn't help it. "You used me, just like a Goa'uld." The glowing of the eyes grew weaker. "Forgive ... me, O'Neill," Kanan breathed weekly. "No harm ... intended. No one ... left behind." Jack felt Kanan's weakening stare. Then he softly squeezed Stevenson's hand. Stevenson suddenly relaxed, the glowing subsided, the eyes closed and the body started seizing. Then Fraiser was there, Jack was pulled away. Stevenson's hand slipped from his.
"He's dying, Stevenson is dying, Kanan, too."
The body convulsed again, the machines beeped wildly. Then from one minute to the next all machines got back to normal. "Kanan is dead," Janet noticed. "Stevenson is weak, but alive."

 
It was noon of the next day when Janet went to check on O'Neill. He had been withdrawn since the day before, since he had met Kanan, refusing to see anybody, even his team. When she entered the room he was lying on his back, unmoving, staring at the ceiling. Janet was certain he would know every single hole and crack by now. "Colonel."
"Doc." His gaze shifted to her.
Janet carried a tray. "The nurse told me you didn't want to eat."
"Yeah, what's wrong about that? Hate that stuff anyway. Give me a pizza."
"Colonel, you are recuperating, I can't give you any solid food right now, and the sooner you eat this semi-solid food, the sooner you'll get something real to eat. You need to eat, and you're going to do it now." She pushed a spoon in his left, his right arm still in no condition to be used. Jack knew when Fraiser was in this mood it was better to comply. She could get really nasty if she wanted to and she had all kinds of unpleasant devices to convince him. "If you say so." She watched him as he slowly started eating.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, when she saw him wincing. She knew his throat as well as his stomach must still be sore. "No, it's okay." He slowly took spoon after spoon of the awful stuff and when he had finished eating under the Doctor's observant eyes, he was grateful she accepted the only half-emptied bowl back. "Did he put you in the sarcophagus this time?" Janet suddenly asked, as still nobody had been able to answer her this question. "Nope. He said, this time it would be final if he killed me."
"And?" Janet enquired softly, uncertain if she should go on.
"And, what?"
"Did it scare you?"
Jack closed his eyes. "There comes the moment when the thought of death doesn't scare you anymore. When you would actually beg for it." "Did you?"
He shot her a glance.
Janet saw he was indecisive if he should shut her out or not.
"Don't think I was able to say anything coherent at that moment when I had wanted to," he finally let on. "And Ba'al wouldn't have cared anyway. He loved his handiwork." "His handiwork? He used his hands? He himself?"
"At first, later he thought the painstick would serve him better."
Janet gulped and felt sick. "Colonel, I'm sorry I had to add to this when we treated you. We had no choice." "Piece of cake," Jack mumbled. "Really," he said when he saw she wouldn't believe him. "How's Stevenson?" Jack finally asked to change the subject. "Better. Jacob Carter was here and used the healing device on him. It can't do what the sarcophagus could have done, still it's better than nothing." "Yeah, the magic box can work wonders. Was he conscious?"
"No, he's in a coma, and that's good for him. It will be a long recovery. He'll have a hard time of coping with what has been done to him." She watched the Colonel who had gone back to scrutinizing the ceiling. "The Tok'ra would like to know what Kanan said." "What? Why?"
"He was one of theirs, even if he didn't behave properly at the end."
"He didn't want to leave her behind," he said in a flat voice. "That's ironic, isn't it? You pull the right strings to get me accept a symbiote ... and the snake abducts me because it left someone behind. I'm really getting too old for this crap." "You will have to take it easy for a couple of weeks anyway, Colonel," Janet said, uncertain if it was already the right moment for this. "What?"
"Colonel, it will take at least another six weeks before I will declare you fit for light duty, no 'gatetravel for at least three months." "Why?"
"Because you need time to cope with what has happened."
"Nothing has happened what I haven't experienced before."
"Yes, I know that you've been tortured before," Janet said.
Jack flinched.
"Colonel, you've been tortured twice within less than six months," she said bluntly. "First you were killed over and over again, then you were submitted to excruciating pain. I think this clearly needs some time and effort to heal." She saw him closing his eyes, now definitvely trying to shut her out. "Are you going to hand me over to McKenzie?" he finally asked, staring at the ceiling. "Jack, you know as well as I do that there is no way around this," Janet said softly. "Even if we wanted to we can't spare you a psychiatrist. Talking with a friend alone, given you would do it at all, and Daniel is not here anyway, won't do it this time. You know the rules." Jack threw his left arm over his face, disregarding the tubes that were still connected to him. "I talked with the General. He agreed to my proposal not to have McKenzie into this but to try to get someone else." "A shrink is a shrink. Didn't help me before."
"Have you ever seriously tried?" Janet asked and didn't wait for the answer, because she knew what it would be. "There is a specialist." "A specialist in what? Asking stupid questions?"
"A specialist in treating torture victims," Janet said gently and decided to ignore his flinching. "The General gives you the choice," Janet continued, before the Colonel could protest. "It's either McKenzie or Dr. Sanders, if you want to go through the 'gate again." "Where?" he finally asked softly.
"Where what?"
He stared at the ceiling. "You ... are you going to send me to mental health?" he asked eventually. "What? No," Janet said when she finally understood his fear. "No, of course not. You will be on light duty and will see Dr. Sanders regularly. You have to work through this. I'm sorry, Colonel. But you know we have no choice."
 
xxxxxxxxx

 
Several days later Janet finally released him from the infirmary. She was rather reluctant to do so and had only agreed because the Colonel had grown impatient in the last days and had started upsetting her whole infirmary. Physically there were no compelling reasons to keep him there, but of course the physical side was not the problem. The problem was that one certain Colonel was as tight-lipped as ever when it came to talking about his experiences and what had been done to him. Janet had pieced together a pretty clear picture of what had happened to him this time - as clear as she could get it without the Colonel really talking about it - and she didn't like it. Given what he had been through in the past and his normal ways of coping with his experiences she feared that rather sooner than later he could reach a breaking-point. Even with Dr Sanders credentials she wasn't certain if the psychiatrist could achieve what others had failed to achieve before. "Your wounds are healing nicely, Colonel," Janet said when she gave him a final exam, gently probing the knife wounds at his shoulder and replacing the dressings. "But you still have to be careful with the staff weapon burn." "Good, so I can go now?"
"Not so fast, Colonel." Janet watched him, as he fidgeted restlessly on the exam table. "These wounds which I can see are healing nicely. It's a different story with those I can't see." "I'm fine, Doc."
"No, you're not, Colonel. I don't like it when you're trying to fool me. You can do that with other people, not with me, okay?" He gave her a glare but Janet just stared back. "Night after night you have terrible nightmares. Every night you wake up, sweat-drenched and screaming." Jack glared at her. "I'm used to having nightmares."
"I know," Janet said softly. She knew when he was in this mood, it was difficult to get through to him. "This is really serious, Colonel," Janet said. "I know you have a long record in burying traumatic experiences. But I don't think this is going to work this time. I just hope you won't try with Dr Sanders what you usually do with McKenzie." "McKenzie doesn't know anything."
"No, but believe me, Dr Sanders does. I just hope that you won't let it destroy you and that for once you'll trust us enough to let us help you before it is too late." "Can I go home now?"
"Yes," Janet sighed, observing the Colonel as he took the meds she had prescribed him. She knew he wouldn't take any of the sleeping pills she had given him. "I have arranged for somebody to drive you home." She saw him scowling. "You know where to find me when you need help or somebody to talk to, okay? Day or night." Janet watched the Colonel leaving the infirmary, shoulders slumped, muttering something like 'I've known how to drive a car since I was a kid'.
 
'You have to work through this,' Doc Fraiser's words still echoed in his mind. Yeah. And if pigs could fly ... Since Doc Fraiser had slowly cut down on his meds Jack woke night after night, screaming, his heart racing, sweat-drenched and shivering violently. He had always thought he had had his share of terrible nightmares. But if his nightmares had been bad before, now they seemed to have taken another evil twist and they were worse than ever before. His nightmares were now so vivid, so real, that when he finally got out of them, fiery pain still raced along his nerves and for hours he was just lying in his bed, trembling, drained and exhausted, waiting for the pain and the terror to subside. Jack was certain that the new quality of his nightmares had to do with Ba'al's drug. It had definitely messed with his nerves. He hadn't mentioned this to Janet, suspecting that she was only waiting for a reason to keep him in the infirmary. He knew she had been reluctant to release him and let him go home. She had tried to talk him into letting Teal'c stay over, but he wouldn't have it. He finally agreed to having her and Carter check on him in the mornings. But only because he feared Doctor Fraiser could change her mind otherwise. Why couldn't they give a man his privacy? It was bad enough that in a couple of days Dr Sanders would start poking holes into his mind and try to get all out of him. And how could she be different from any other shrink? A shrink was a shrink. He had only agreed to seeing her because he knew he had no choice if he wanted to go through the 'gate again. Of course, cooperation was an entirely different issue.

 
'You have an unfortunate inheritance, O'Neill. I will dig it out. With the help of Shak'Ra I will uncover what is left of Kanan in your head.' Hands behind his back, grinning wolfishly, Ba'al was pacing in front of him. 'No, please, don't,' Jack moaned. Several drops of acid had already burnt their way through his skin and flesh. 'Please?' 'I will get from you all I want. I do not understand your stubborn resistance, O'Neill,' Ba'al commented. 'You despise the Tok'ra as much as I do. You might as well give me access to Kanan.' Weakly Jack tried to shake his head. 'I don't know anything.' He saw Ba'al taking the mug from one of the Jaffa. 'Daniel, please, help me,' he pleaded softly while Ba'al came nearer. Jack tried to turn away his face, in vain. He felt Ba'al's hand on his chin, compelling Jack to face the snakehead. Where was Daniel? Why didn't he help him?
'But you do, O'Neill," Ba'al's eyes glowed. "You know more than you are aware of and I will help you to remember. Are you not curious to know what is left of him? All the information he carried, you cannot consider wasting it.' With that the Goa'uld forced liquid fire down his throat. Jack cringed, tried to resist, but to no avail. He was paralysed, unable to move, completely at the mercy of Ba'al. Ba'al held him in an iron grip while more and more of the molten lava ran down his throat. Jack gasped for air. He was suffocating.
Pain exploded inside him and then Jack screamed.
Struggling, Jack awoke, trying to catch his breath, entangled in his sweat-soaked bedsheets once again. For some time he just lay there, dazed, attempting to sort nightmare from reality, trying to find out where he was. Still trembling he disengaged himself from the sheets and got up. It had been one week since Doc Fraiser had let him go home. Since then night after night his dreams got worse. Every night Ba'al tortured him and the torture got more and more intense, the pain more and more agonizing. Ba'al never gave him the escape of death. And nobody ever came for his rescue. He had thought that a couple of days in the quiet and peaceful environment of Minnesota could help him. However, Doc Fraiser wouldn't permit him the refuge of his cabin. Adamantly she had insisted that he should start his treatment first. As if any shrink had ever helped him. Didn't he have enough experience himself in the question of what helped him and what didn't? Jack soaked his head under the cold water tap. He let the cold water run over him until it became painful. Pain to fight another pain. Ice-cold water to still his quavering nerves. With a towel over his shoulders he went downstairs. His fridge was unfortunately a beer-free zone, Doc and her watchdog Carter saw to this. He had no choice but to open one of the healthy bottles of orange juice, which they both distributed freely around his house. He slumped down in his armchair, as he did every night after he had escaped his nightmares. Sometimes he managed to fall into a fitful doze in front of his TV. He was just about to grab the TV remote, when his eyes fell on the pictures which were lying on the table. In an effort to keep himself busy he had started sorting through drawers and had come upon the pictures. He took them off the table. These were the last pictures which had been made of them as a team. His team. Before Daniel had disappeared - ascended, gone to the higher realms of existence, where helping a friend apparently was no longer a concern. Jack tried to swallow the bitterness which threatened to overwhelm him whenever he thought of Daniel now. Instead he tried to conjure the images of a better time. A couple of weeks before Daniel had ascended, Janet had invited them over to her cabin. It had been a wonderful weekend, they had so much fun at the quiet and peaceful place, even though there were no lake and no fish. Cassie had taken the pictures, loads of pictures in fact. She had got a new camera at her birthday only shortly before and the whole weekend she had been running around with it. Jack's eyes were fixed on a picture which showed him in front of the cabin, playing with the dog. Then he got up. Didn't he still have her spare key for the cabin? When they had left, Daniel - trust on Daniel to forget something - had left a couple of his precious books behind, and Jack had gone back to get them. Janet hadn't said anything about her own cabin which was just a 5 hours drive away. She had just said that Minnesota was absolutely out of question. Without any further thought Jack went upstairs, grabbed a couple of t-shirts and other garments from his wardrobe and threw them in his duffel bag. In the bathroom he gathered the necessary items and packed them, shoved all of Doc Fraisers prescriptions in one plastic bag and threw them on top of everything else into his bag. Without a look at his watch, which showed exactly 3 in the night, he left.

 
Sam was late that morning. It was one of those mornings in which everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. First her hair had been standing up stubbornly, then she couldn't find her keys. When she finally left, she was nearly half an hour late. Still, she first drove to the Colonel's house as she had done the last 10 days alternately with Janet. She knew the Colonel had only gruffily accepted their "motherhenning" - as he usually called it - since he knew he had no choice. She arrived and knocked at the door - she didn't want to ring the bell, as she didn't want to wake him up in case he was asleep. So far he never had been. When he didn't open, she let herself in. Everything was quiet. Normally he was somewhere around, with dark eyes and a grey face from another sleepless nightmarish night. Where was he this morning? She didn't dare to hope that for once he would be sleeping. She was right, his bed was empty, bedsheets and blankets a tangled mess lying on the floor. His wardrobe was opened. She had a look in the bathroom, which was empty, and at once she discovered what was missing. Sam went downstairs to have a look around.
"Janet, I think we have a problem." Sam knew she had no choice but to call the SGC. She wished the Colonel had at least taken Teal'c with him. "Something wrong with the Colonel?" Janet asked.
Sam sighed. "He's not here, his car is gone, he must have left in the night. I think he must have taken some clothes, his meds, his toothbrush. Doesn't look like a short trip around the block." "Damn," Janet breathed. "Any idea where he has gone? His cabin? Last weekend I absolutely forbid him to go there before he has started his treatment with Dr. Sanders." "I know," Sam said. "I don't think he's gone there. There are a couple of pictures lying around here, Cassie's pictures from the weekend we spent at your cabin with the whole team." "Oh boy, this could be possible, he still has the set of spare keys," Janet said. "We have to get him back." "Janet, maybe a couple of days away from here in a cabin would do him some good." "Not alone in his current state. Psychologically he's a wreck right now," Janet said bluntly. "Janet ..."
"I'm sorry, Sam, but that's how things are."
"Is it really that bad? Aside from his nightmares ..."
"Sam, believe me, his emotional condition is critical and he's never been that close to a breakdown. If McKenzie had a say in this he would have sent him to the Academy Hospital right away instead of letting him go home. I just hope he decides to let himself be helped by Dr Sanders." "Do you think she can help him?"
"She's got a lot of experience working with torture victims, so yes, I think she could help him, he just has to let her. But first we have to get him back." "Okay, Janet, I got it. Look, tell Teal'c to get ready and we'll get him back."

 
"O'Neill will not like this," Teal'c remarked, when they were slowly approaching Janet's cabin. It had been past 10 when they had finally left the SGC, leaving a worried Doctor Fraiser and an angry General Hammond behind. Sam was certain that the General's anger was less due to the Colonel not following orders but genuine worry for his well-being. With Teal'c not exactly a master of smalltalk, it had been a long five hours, and Sam had enough time to worry about the Colonel's condition. "No, he won't like it," Sam said. "I just hope we can convince him to come back with us. And he should be happy it's not Janet coming to get him. I don't know what she would do with him." They had taken a short break at noon and now it should only take 30 minutes to reach the cabin - provided Sam found the way without getting lost as had happened to her before. "There's his car," Sam said softly when she pulled her car into the gravel parking lot near the cabin.
 
"What are you doing here?" They hadn't yet set a foot on the doorstep of the cabin, when an angry Colonel appeared in the door. Sam stepped back. Anger was radiating out of his very being. "Colonel, nice to see you are well," she said. "Doctor Fraiser and the General are worried." "Tell them, no reason to be worried," Jack said. "Good-bye."
"I'm sorry, Colonel," Sam said and meant it. "I am under orders to bring you back. Janet was serious when she didn't want you off to your cabin on your own." "Have your handcuffs ready, Carter?"
"Colonel, please." Sam glanced at Teal'c. "You know ..."
"Okay, okay," defeated Jack raised his hands and cut her off. He knew he didn't have a chance. "Tomorrow, okay? Let's stay here overnight. Spend a quiet evening here." "Okay," Sam decided. "Tomorrow is soon enough. I'll call Janet and tell her."
Later they were sitting outside. Jack was sipping a beer, he was certain it was the only one he would get for a long time, and for the time being he felt at ease. He still thought it could help him to spend some time in a cabin, on his own, without any outside pressure, without anybody around him who wanted to get him to spill his guts. Still, he had been glad to see Carter and Teal'c. This time he had friends who didn't allow him to cut himself off and dig a hole to hide inside. "You know, last time we were here, Daniel was still around," Sam suddenly said.
"Now, apparently, he isn't," Jack said.
"Colonel?" Sam stared at him, surprised to hear the edge in his voice.
Jack stared down at his hands that were playing restlessly around with the bottle. He hadn't told them about Daniel, he had only mentioned it to Janet and he knew Janet had considered it a hallucination. Jack got up. Sam knew of course that it used to be Daniel who got the Colonel to talk. "Colonel," Sam hestitated. "Daniel is not here. But you know that if you need somebody to talk to we're here for you. If you don't want to go through with the shrink ..." "I know, Carter", Jack said wearily, turning around. "But I have to work through this on my own." "You know where to find us if need be."

 
'You will drink this now, and then I will touch you,' Ba'al signalled the guard to hand him the cup with Shak'Ra. 'I will only touch you with my hands. But as you have had three cups of it before, you will beg me to end your life.' Ba'al handed him the cup. 'The more you drink, the better the result. Now drink this.' 'Fuck you, snakehead!' Even after the endless hours Ba'al had already touched him, the long hours he had been lying only half conscious, in a feverish haze on the floor in the dungeon, Jack was bold enough to throw the cup back at Ba'al, fully aware of what was to follow. Instantly the guards were over him, forced his mouth open, poured Shak'Ra into his throat. An endless stream of liquid fire was burning its way down his throat, before they let him drop and writhe on the floor. Acid burnt its way through his blood vessel and then, once again, he lost it. Writhing on the floor, Jack tried to escape those hands, those searing hands that peeled away his skin, ripped his flesh open. He screamed and screamed. Yes, he would have begged the snakehead to end his life. If only he could form words. If only ... He screamed when he was violently shaken.
"Colonel, wake up."
Sam and Teal'c were both standing at the Colonel's bed. The blood-curdling screams that had woken Sam were frightening. Many a time, on missions or in the infirmary, they had witnessed his nightmares. But she had never heard any screams like this from him, screams which spoke of utmost pain and anguish. Teal'c grabbed the shoulder of the struggling body - and instantly let go when Jack O'Neill yelped as if in pain. "O'Neill, you have to wake up." "Colonel, this is a dream. Colonel! Wake up!"
They saw him moving, softly moaning he threw his head from side to side. His fists clenched and unclenched, then his eyes opened. "Carter? What are you doing here? You have to get away or he will take you ..." Wildly Jack glanced around him. "Carter." Jack O'Neill stopped, when he finally registered his surroundings. "Where ... where are we? What happened?" he asked exhausted, still trembling. "Janet's cabin, Sir," Sam said. "You had a nightmare." She saw his drawn face, recognized embarrassment mixed in the horror of which his eyes still spoke. "Uhhh," weakly Jack sat up, still feeling the pain racing along his nerves.
Sam wanted to touch him, but when he flinched, she stopped her hand. "Do you need anything?" she asked instead. "Some water maybe?" When the Colonel nodded, Sam went to the kitchen, drawing Teal'c with him, as she wanted to give the Colonel some moments of privacy. She knew how he detested these kinds of scenes. Even though they were used to his nightmares, he always hated it when he had to be brought out of one by them. When Sam came back with a glass of water, the Colonel was still sitting on the bed, arms around his knees, hunched over, his head on his knees, not moving, but still slightly shivering. Sam reached out to hand him the glass. "Drink this," she said. "Noooo!" Without looking up, Jack lashed out, hit the glass out of Sam's hand. It shattered on the floor. Sam jumped back, not knowing what was happening, but fully aware that sometimes it was dangerous to get near Jack O'Neill when he had been brought out of a nightmare. Instead of fighting, Jack O'Neill jumped up from the bed. Before anyone could react, he was at the door, opened it, and barefoot, in his sweat-drenched t-shirt and boxer shorts he disappeared in the darkness of the night. "Colonel," Sam stared at the open door.
"What happened?" Teal'c came back when he heard the noise.
"I just wanted to give him the water and he panicked, or whatever." She went to the door. "Teal'c, we have to follow him. Maybe it was a flashback, maybe I triggered a memory. He must be disoriented." "I will get him back."

 
"O'Neill!"
Jack kept on running. The Jaffa were chasing him through the woods. He wasn't certain how he had been able to escape from the fortress. He just knew he was being hunted, and he knew they were fast, fast and strong. He had to reach the Stargate! If they caught him, he wouldn't stand a chance against them. But he was determined not to go back into Ba'al's torture chambers. He was determined not to drink another cup of liquid fire. It seemed as if they had been hunting him for hours. Hours he had been running and running, but he wasn't even certain if this was the right way to the Stargate. He should try to find a place to hide out, maybe in the light of the day he could find his way. He was gasping for air, completely exhausted and his blood was pounding in his head. He knew he couldn't go much further. Every now and then he missed his footing and nearly fell. He was special ops trained. He had learnt to beat the odds, to go on even beyond endurance. But even with his training there was a limit. He had reached this limit now.
He tripped over a root and stumbled.
Then they were over him.
Jack O'Neill struggled, tried to resist, wanted to make it as hard as possible for them to get hold of him. He lashed out, bit a hand that tried to grip his arm, hit an eye. As a human he was never a match for any Jaffa. But in his current desperate state he was a dangerous opponent. Teal'c didn't want to hurt him. He tried to pin the Colonel down, but it wasn't as easy as he would have wished. In blind rage and despair Jack O'Neill fought for his very life and sanity. At the long last Teal'c gained the upper hand. The defeated human still resisted weakly, but Teal'c felt how his determination was slipping. "Please," Jack sobbed when finally Teal'c had him pinned on the ground. "Please, kill me, don't take me back to him. I can't go on like this." "O'Neill, you are safe. Nobody wants to take you back to Ba'al," Teal'c said solemnly. Deep inside the Jaffa was shaken. In his long years as Prime of Aphopis he had seen the Goa'uld commit many atrocities, he himself had been forced to torture prisoners, and more than once Apophis had ordered him to use Shak'ra on unlucky guests in Apophis' dungeons. In contrast to the rest of the team, he had a fairly good idea of what O'Neill had gone and still went through. Still, it was disquieting to see this warrior reduced to a quivering bundle. The human had stopped his struggle. Teal'c still didn't loosen his grip, not knowing if O'Neill would try to escape again. He just shifted his weight off the exhausted man. For a long time they were lying on the ground, unmoving. Teal'c waiting for a reaction, not knowing how to go on, not knowing if Jack O'Neill had come out of his nightmare. "O'Neill, MajorCarter is waiting at the cabin. General Hammond has sent us." He finally said, when it seemed as if O'Neill relaxed a bit. "General Hammond?"
"Yes, he wants us to bring you back. We are here to take you home."
"This is a trick."
"No, O'Neill, it is I, Teal'c. I do not play tricks on you."
"Teal'c?" Reality set slowly in.
"Yes, it is I. Come back with me to the cabin."

 
"What's happened?" Jack looked around him. It was dark and apparently they were in the middle of the woods. "MajorCarter thinks you had a flashback. You had a nightmare, and when she wanted to give you a glass of water you fled." "Oh, crap." Jack closed his eyes. He felt drawn and tired, and stones, roots and and dead branches were picking him uncomfortably in his back. "A glass of water?" "MajorCarter thought she must have triggered a bad memory."
"What ... what did she say?" Jack enquired.
"She said, 'drink this', I think. Then you thrashed about and fled."
"Uhhh, yeah," he whispered. "Bad memory." Jack closed his eyes. Very bad memory. How far was he that even such a simple sentence sent him running? "Let go, Teal'c." Weakly Jack freed his arms, sat up and looked around him. "Where are we?" "In the forest. It is at least half an hour back to DoctorFraiser's cabin."
"This is great," Jack mumbled. "Then let's go back." Jack got up. "Aaaargh," he looked down at his dirty, bloody feet. "No shoes?" "I do not think you put them on, O'Neill."
"Even better."

 
They made their way slowly back. As Jack had been running away blindly and Teal'c had followed him, it took them some time to find the right way to the cabin in the darkness of the night. Teal'c took point and kept an eye on Jack O'Neill. "Did you ... did you often have to make them drink it twice?" Jack suddenly asked.
"I do not understand your question, O'Neill."
"Shak'Ra," Jack forced himself to say. "Did Apophis order you often to have somebody drink it twice?" Teal'c shortly closed his eyes. Now he understood what had happened. O'Neill seldom asked him about his past, and he never asked about the dark sides of it. "Most human prisoners did not survive the first time. But there were a few who had to drink it twice, yes. Apophis seldom did it when he wanted to keep them as slaves," he continued. "Otherwise they ended as quivering wrecks?"
"Yes. Some did." Yes, Teal'c had seen what became of humans whom he had forced to go through this torture twice. Drinking Shak'Ra once was bad enough, but having to drink the drug a second time while the drug was still circling in the blood enhanced the effects manyfold. Most prisoners had lost their sanity, though not all of them. "But you will not, my friend," he said. "Well, right now it looks like it's heading that way. Running away when somebody hands you a glass of water is not really sane." "You have to give it time, O'Neill. You are strong. Stronger than any human I have met before." Jack threw the Jaffa a glance. Teal'c had never been a man of many words. "Wish you were right," Jack whispered.
 
Sam was waiting in the door when she finally heard them approaching. In the meantime, at 3.30 in the morning, she had called Janet to ask her about the differences between nightmares and flashbacks and what they could do. Of course, Janet had not exactly been happy to hear her report. Sam knew that Janet wondered if she had made a big mistake when she had let the Colonel go home, if she had let friendship interfere with duty. "Hey Colonel," Sam said, taking in his torn and muddy appearance.
"Hey yourself," Jack mumbled.
"Had a nice walk?"
"Yeah, perfect, only forgot to put on my shoes."
"I can see that," Sam said. "Get cleaned up first and then I'll have a look at your feet, okay?" "Giving orders, Carter?"
"Medical orders, Sir."
"Took a lesson or two from Doc, did you?" Jack asked, while Teal'c pushed him towards the bathroom. "Just as a precaution," Sam said. She opened Janet's First Aid Kit. Always rely on a Doctor to be well equipped, she thought, while she prepared the necessary things. Silently she worked on his feet when he returned from his shower, admitting that Janet had been right and wondering if Jack O'Neill would find a way out of his private hell.
 
Aimlessly Jack stared into the dark night sky. He had no choice, or had he? If he wanted to go on with his life, move on, continue to work, he needed help. Jack put his head in his hands. It had been ten days since his trip to Janet's cabin. Since then he tried to avoid sleeping. He had spent the first three nights after coming back sitting on his roof, staring into the night sky. In the morning after the third night Doctor Fraiser had caught him, completely exhausted and overtired. Doc had threatened to haul him back to the infirmary, if he didn't sleep, stat. Complying with her orders he had fallen into his bed and slept, only to be tortured by Ba'al once again. This time it had been Janet who had brought him out of his nightmare, out of his living hell. He was grateful she had stayed, even though he wouldn't have admitted it. She had tried to talk him through the aftermath. It was the first time he had been close to talking, to spill everything on her, to drown her in his pain, to reveal his living hell to somebody who kept asking him to talk. He hadn't done it. Not to Janet, who anyway must have a pretty good idea about his ordeal.
As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't go on like this. Compared to Iraq, this time the aftermath of his ordeal had a new and different quality. In comparison to this, Iraq had been a piece of cake. He was about to let this destroy his life. He really was about to end up as a nutcase with the prospect of a permanent room at the funny farm and a weekly visit by McKenzie. So was there any other option? No, he had to admit, this time there wasn't.
He hated to acknowledge that Doc Fraiser had been right. For once he had no choice. Maybe he should take a chance with Dr Sanders. He had seen her twice so far. She was as petite as Fraiser was and equally stubborn. In contrast to McKenzie with her he had the immediate feeling that this woman was aware of what she was demanding of him, what it would cost him, and even what he was going through right now. She had taken a no-nonsense approach when he had gone to see her the first time. With her hands on a thick file on her desk she had greeted him. 'I've read your file,' she had said, scrutinizing him. 'With all your traumatic experiences I'm surprised you got've this far, given that you were never willing to cooperate with any professional. Clamming up, shutting everybody else out,' she tapped on his file and Jack was certain she had studied everything related to Iraq quite thoroughly. 'No doubt that even you will reach a dead end sooner or later.' She really was different, no shrink before had jumped at him like this. No touchy-feely we-need-to-talk-about-this, just the plain facts right into his face. 'I just never understood how it could help me to recount things over and over again.'
'Yeah, I know it's hard to understand. Especially since most patients choose to hide the worst, the most hurting and most damaging that had been done to them.' Jack wasn't certain what she had seen in his eyes. Shock? Fear?
'Colonel, I won't force you to talk about these things,' she had continued softly. 'It's up to you to decide how far you can trust me. I know there are experiences which are so painful, so traumatic that your mind tries to bury them as deep as possible and consciously you'd never think about them again, let alone reveal them to anybody. But they lurk deep inside you, and they'll haunt you in your nightmares.' And right she was. They haunted him in his nightmares. Though that part of it wouldn't be that difficult to guess, as his file must have a big red "nightmares every night since he's back" stamp on it anyway. 'Face your demons and let me help you do it, talk about the acid and the drug.'
No tiptoeing around the ugly truth. She had watched him as he flinched and no doubt paled. 'I'm certain you're dreaming of it, let's pull it in the open and fight it. Don't let it destroy you and your life, Colonel. You can fight it.' 'Can I?'
'Yes, you can. And I'm here to help you. Whenever you need help, whenever you want to talk, call me, okay?' She had given him her card with her numbers. 'Even at 4 in the morning, should need be.' Jack still wasn't certain what he had read in her green eyes. Fleetingly he had wondered how this small and frail-looking woman who looked as if she were in her late thirties or early forties would react to his story, but then, maybe she had heard worse. In any case, she had read his file, so she knew what she dealt with. Maybe he should try her. After all he had nothing to loose. Decision taken, Jack sighed and got up. It was time to go to bed. A perfectly normal act any normal person did every evening without thinking about it. He, however, was terrified just with the thought of it.
 
'Help me, Daniel, please help me,' Jack whispered his whole body trembling. 'Oh my god, please, make him stop, Daniel, please, you have to end this.' Jack banged his head on the grid while the acid ate its way through his skin. Where was Daniel? Jack was certain, he was nearby, lurking somewhere, invisible. Why didn't he help him? Why didn't he end this? What did he have to do to get his friend to help him? Two more drops, Jack decided wearily, then he would talk. Then he would tell the snakehead everything he wanted to know. Two more drops he could take. Ba'al had been dropping acid on him for hours, or so it seemed. Time dragged along, Jack knew he couldn't think clearly any more, he knew he had lost track of time. With every drop he had hoped Ba'al would kill him, give him at least the short respite of the sarcophagus, before he continued. But instead Ba'al just went on and on, letting the acid burn through his whole body. By now he even had difficulties to find undamaged parts of skin. Maybe for once the Goa'uld had been serious when he had threatened him to kill him permanently. Which would be okay. It just shouldn't take that long. 'Daniel, please, if you ever ...'
Jack cried out when the next drop hit him. Once again on his chest, which by now was an open mass of raw, blistering and bloody flesh. One more and he would talk. 'Daniel, please, you have to ...' Jack screamed, when the final drop hit him, hit him at his most vulnerable parts, which had been spared before. Pain exploded and then blinding white lights swallowed him.
 
"I'm here, Jack." A quiet voice suddenly reached his mind. "I'm here, Jack, it's over."
He was in a limbo. He didn't feel anything anymore, seemed to be cut off from his body. He remembered this state and relaxed. He had reached it before, shortly before dying, long past the moment from which you could return to life. It was a blessed state, a state in which all pain had left, and only peaceful tranquility waited before the black nothingness engulfed the mind. His mind anticipated the blackness. "Jack, I'm here," the voice said again. "Stay with me, Jack."
The blackness faded away. Unattainable. A voice had called him. Daniel's voice. "Daniel?" "Yes, Jack, I'm here," Daniel repeated.
Sensation returned. Jack felt touched. He cringed, because touching hurt, touching had to hurt on his raw flesh. Daniel's touch didn't hurt.
Daniel was there. Daniel was back.
Daniel had drawn him back.
"Help me, please," Jack whispered sobbingly. "I can't go on like this. I'll tell him, I'll tell him everything. The acid is eating me away. Please, you have to end this. Please?" "Hush, no need to tell him anything." Daniel drew him into his arms. "There is no acid, Jack." Daniel was hugging him, holding him, gently rocking him, and his soft touch melted away the fire. Jack finally opened his eyes. "You are not alone, Jack, I'm here."
"Then do something," Jack whispered desperately.
Daniel was still wearing his white pullover and trousers. He was there, besides him. Jack gripped his arms, clinged to him like a drowning man. "Daniel, you have to end this, Daniel, please. Please help me. If you ever were my friend ... Don't stand there just watching. I can't go on like this. Help me, help me leave this behind. It's my only way out." "No, Jack. It's over, Jack, it's over," Daniel repeated over and over again, trying to reach and calm his desperate friend's mind. He realized that Jack was on the verge of slipping away, Jack was close to dying, and only because he himself had stood back far too long. The only reason why Jack didn't kick him into his ass right now was his nearly being beyond life. "Ba'al is dead, you were there, you saw him die. He can't reach you any more. It's over. He's dead." "The acid ..."
"No acid, Jack, there is no acid and no Ba'al. Just you and me. You are no longer in Ba'al's hands. You're back on Earth." Gently Daniel took Jack's hand and laid it on his chest. "Feel your skin, Jack, it's undamaged. No acid. And no hallucination," Daniel anticipated his next thought. "I'm really here, and everything is over." It seemed to take hours for Jack's terrified mind and trembling body to calm down, hours of softly murmered reassurances, hours of just being there until Jack finally relaxed in Daniel's arms. Daniel was back and Ba'al was gone. Daniel had finally helped him and ended this.
"You're really here?" Jack loosened his grip on Daniel's arm. Daniel felt so real.
"Yes, I'm here for you, Jack. Ba'al won't reach you anymore, not ever."
"Hope so," Jack mumbled. "Can't go through it again."
"I know," Daniel whispered.
"Should have come earlier, it was nearly too late."
"I'm aware of that," Daniel murmured. "I'm very sorry for this, there's no excuse for failing you earlier. You should have kicked my ass." "Tried to. But there was no ass to kick."
"Yeah, comes with being ascended."
"And why now?"
"Doesn't matter anymore," Daniel just said. "I ... I can't explain it right now."
"Thanks," Jack said hoarsely, feeling tears in his eyes, accepting that Daniel really had ended this. "Thank you, my friend," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Jack," Daniel whispered. "I'm very, very sorry because I didn't help you. No excuse for it." "You're here, finally," Jack rasped and fell in a deep, exhausted sleep.

 
Janet Fraiser looked at her watch, for the third time within 5 minutes. Jack O'Neill had been scheduled for an exam this morning and usually he was on time. Last week he had started his treatment with Dr Lilian Sanders. Now it depended on her, if she was able to get through to him, and on the Colonel, if he was willing to let her help him. She wished that for once he would cooperate. "Yeah, when hell freezes over," Janet mumbled. Stubborn as a mule he was and always had been. She knew he was on the verge of breaking. Lilian had confirmed it after she had met him the first time. Janet was used to McKenzie's negative attitude towards the Colonel. The two of them were just hopeless. On the other hand she had been surprised to hear Lilian Sanders' positive assessment. She had been certain that she could get the Colonel to work with her, and Janet had no idea where she had got that conclusion from. Now Jack O'Neill was half an hour late and she had already called base security twice but he hadn't signed in yet. Janet dialed another number. "Sam? Have you heard anything from Colonel O'Neill? You were over at his house yesterday evening, weren't you?" "Yes, shortly past 9, everything was okay. Actually he was sitting on the roof watching stars." As he always was since he had got back. "He was scheduled for an exam this morning," Janet looked at her watch. "Nearly an hour ago." "Did you try to call him?"
"Yes, twice already, but it's just his answering machine. I hope he hasn't gone off to another cabin, trying to escape Dr Sanders, or his nightmares." "I don't think he would. You want me to check it out?"

 
Quietly Sam entered the house, when nobody reacted to her knocking at the door. After a short look around, she went upstairs. She opened the bedroom door and stared at the bed. The welcome sight of a sleeping Colonel greeted her. "Janet, this is Sam. I'm at the Colonel's house."
"Is he there?"
"Yeah, he's sleeping," Sam said.
"Sleeping? Did you check?"
"Yes, I took his pulse, strong and even. I think he's deeply asleep." He hadn't even moved when she had searched for his pulse. "Did he ... did he take too many sleeping pills? Are you certain he's only sleeping?"
"Janet, I'm not a doctor, but to me he looks like a man fast asleep. I was in the bathroom and couldn't see any sleeping pills anywhere." "What happened then?"
"I've got no idea. I just can tell you he's sleeping peacefully, and I really wouldn't want to wake him up now." "No, of course not. Just stay there, in case ...," She didn't finish her sentence, but Sam understood anyway. "I'll come over as soon as I'm finished here."
 
Sam opened the door when Janet arrived.
"How is he?" Janet asked.
"Still the same. Haven't heard a sound."
Janet hurried upstairs.
Jack O'Neill was lying on his left side, sleeping. His face was relaxed in his sleep, the lines of pain and fatigue that had lined his face for far too long were gone. Janet took his pulse, it was strong and even, as Sam had said. "Colonel?" Gently Janet nudged his shoulder. "Hmmm." Drowsily Jack rolled on his back and opened an eye. He just wanted to sleep, nothing else. Why didn't Daniel let him sleep, when he finally was able to? Jack tried to focus on the figure standing there. "Daniel?" he mumbled. "Let me sleep."
"Colonel, are you okay?" Janet asked.
"Doc?"
"Yes."
"Let me sleep," Jack muttered.
"Just wanted to make certain that everthing is okay, Sir."
"Just fine. Just want to sleep." Jack let his eyes slid close, curled up on his right side and shortly thereafter he was once again fast asleep. He slept for more than 48 hours, never left alone in his house. The members of his team took turns watching over him, to be there in case he needed help. When he finally woke up and went downstairs, Janet was there. "Hey, Sir." It was early in the morning, the first daylight just seeped in. Janet had dozed on his sofa but was instantly awake when she heard footsteps on the staircase. "Doc, what are you doing here?" Jack was on his way to the kitchen and stopped when he discovered her. "Don't you have a bed at home?" "Just wanted to make certain that everything is okay."
"It is," he simply said.
"Finished sleeping?"
"Yep."
"No bad dreams?"
"No."
Janet got up and put the blanket aside when no further explanation was coming forward. "Ready for breakfast?" He followed her into the kitchen and watched her as she silently prepared the breakfast.
"You look much better this morning," she said when they were sitting at the table. She watched him eating ravenously as if he hadn't eaten anything for one week. "It was about time, too. I couldn't have ignored your lack of sleep much longer." "Which reminds me of the appointment, Doc," Jack said. "Sorry I missed it."
"By two days. That's what a good night's sleep can do."
"Two days?"
"Yep, it's Saturday, the appointment was on Thursday. You slept for at least 48 hours. Just what you needed." She glanced at him thoughtfully. "Any explanation?" "Daniel was there," he said after staring into his coffee for a long time.
Only too well she remembered him telling her about Daniel's presence and refusal to help him while he was tortured the first time by Ba'al. "Did he help you?" she asked quietly. "Yes, this time he did," Jack replied softly.

 
"Morning, Colonel."
Jack looked up from his bowl of Fruit Loops in the SGC cafeteria. "Carter. Ready for your mission?"
"Yep. And I'm certain Jonas is already in the Stargate Room, can't expect to see P3X 777."
"Yeah, I'm certain. His first time to see moving plants. I prefer stationary trees."
"Didn't know you liked any trees at all."
"Oh, I do, I do. I just don't see why we should go to planets with trees everywhere."
Sam smiled. "So you don't mind that you're going to miss this mission, do you?"
"Well, not that one," Jack shrugged, trying to cover how badly he missed his real work and his team. "See you."
With a look at his watch Jack finished his bowl and left, too.
Since Daniel had ended his nightmare, Jack had found a modicum of peace. For the first five days his sleep had been completely undisturbed, and he had slept 12 or 14 hours without even waking up once. He had also settled into a routine with seeing Dr. Sanders who stuck to her no-nonsense approach. She gave him a hard time. Blunt, unrelenting, never accepting hedging or evasive answers, yet sympathetic and kind, she gently coaxed him into talking. He remembered his sessions with McKenzie after his first encounter with Ba'al and how easily he had been able to fool the shrink. This time it was different. As Janet Fraiser had said, Dr Lilian Sanders knew what she was dealing with. There were moments, when her questions were so accurate and precise that he wondered if she had ever been captured and questioned by an enemy herself. He never felt at ease when he went to the Academy Hospital to see her, and when he left her one and a half hour later, he felt exhausted and worn out like after a very bad dream. It had felt like a reward when she had finally given her okay to let him go back on light duty. Since then he spent his mornings in the SGC, delving into the paperwork that had been piling up on his desk for a couple of weeks and went to see her in the afternoon. "Hi Doc," Jack entered Doctor Fraiser's office. "Dr Sanders already here?"
"Colonel, good morning, I just got a call that she's on her way down."
After having talked about the Stargate for weeks, Sanders had asked if she could come and see it. As she had been cleared to treat him, there was no reason not to show her the Stargate in action. Jack took the lift to the tenth floor to meet her. "Dr Sanders."
"Colonel." She stepped out of the lift and looked around.
"This way," Jack led her to the other lift.
"Further down?"
"Yep. Sublevel 28." They stepped inside the cabin. "Now you're about to see the most secret facility on Earth." It was the first time he saw her in uniform. During her sessions she wore neither uniform nor white coat. 'Bad experience' she had explained, when he had asked her and he could easily imagine what she had meant with this. Automatically Jack scrutinized her Air Force Dress Uniform from her Major strips down to her campaign strips. Two Purple Hearts, one Silver Star. She had certainly seen more action than ol' McKenzie. The lift doors opened with a 'pling'.
"When you're finished, might we move on?"
Lost in summing up her military career he looked up apologetically. "Sorry." He stepped out of the lift. "This way. I'm certain Jonas will kill me if we don't hurry up. He can hardly wait to see the moving trees of P3X 777." "Moving trees? Really moving? As in walking? How do they do that?"
"You sound like Jonas," Jack remarked.
"Probably because I haven't been out there and seen what you have seen there?"
"Probably, yes. Here we are." They entered the control room.
"Chevron 3, locked," Sgt. Davis reported that moment.
He watched her as she discovered the spinning Stargate.
"Wow, this is incredible." Lilian Sanders stared at big ring and observed as the rest of the Chevrons locked and finally the wormhole established. She knew that Jack O'Neill had been the first one to step through it, without knowing what would be waiting for him on the other side, without knowing if he would come back. She admitted readily that she was fascinated by this man. When Janet Fraiser had given her his heavy file, she had warned her that the contents were ugly. Lilian Sanders agreed, even with her experience she seldom had had patients whose file listed such an accumulation of nasty run-ins with enemies, cruelties and the repeated horror of torture. Not to mention the death of his own son. It was beyond her comprehension how he had been able to go back to Ba'al's fortress a second time. In any case, he was her first patient who had been repeatedly tortured to death only to be revived again and she hadn't even started to comprehend what long-lasting damage this could have done to his psyche. Still, when she watched him as now two members of his team stepped onto the ramp, she could clearly see that he wished nothing more but to be down there at their side. "SG-10, you have a go," General Hammond announced, and SG-10, together with Carter and Jonas disappeared in the blue rippling of the event horizon. "This is really ... extraordinary," Lilian Sanders said, when the wormhole dissolved.
"Yeah, it is," Jack admitted softly.
Jack showed her around, didn't forget to show her the MALP recording of the moving plants and trees, then he took her to Fraiser's office, having no doubts about what subject the two doctors would talk.
 
Screaming and struggling Jack woke up. Ba'al had been back in his nightmare. Again. Jack felt his twitching and burning nerves. Since Daniel had been there three weeks ago, his nightmares had been less frequent, less violent. There had been even nights without any bad dreams at all. This was the first time Ba'al had been back, in all his glory and with mugs full of Shak'Ra. For some time he just lay in his bed, motionless, feeling his spasming nerves, trying to control the pain and his breathing. Trying to get a grip on himself. He had hoped to be over the worst, and now despair threatened to overwhelm him as he really couldn't stand the thought that the ordeal would continue. In the week after Daniel's appearance he had agreed to see Sanders on a daily basis. Much to his own surprise he had even started to talk about Shak'Ra in the last couple of days - actually on the day after Sanders had come to see the SGC. This part of it certainly belonged to one of those things which fell into the worst and most damaging category of things she had mentioned, and Jack wasn't sure how much he really would tell her. She didn't rush him, gave him his time and had warned him that talking about it could bring his nightmares back. Worn out he finally sat up and turned the lights on. On his nightstand still lay her card, his hand still trembling he took it, stared at it, then he took the phone and dialed her number. After the fifth ringing, she answered, sounding sleepish, abruptly woken. "Yes?"
Jack hesitated. "It's Jack O'Neill," he finally said hoarsely.
"Colonel," instantly she sounded wide awake. "Do you need help? Shall I come over?"
"I ... I don't know."
"Did you have a nightmare?"
"Yeah."
"Give me 25 minutes and I'll be there, okay?" Her voice had taken a reassuring note, and Jack realized that she had noticed his panic. It took her less than 25 minutes to arrive, by that time it was 4 in the morning. He let her in. "Colonel." She scrutinized him, took in his ashen and drained appearance, his slight trembling, his still wet hair and the towel around his shoulders. "Sorry for waking you."
"That's okay, no problem." She ran a hand through her short tousled hair and followed him into his living room. Without a word she took the remote and switched the TV off. "Sit down," she said. "You look as if you'll fall down otherwise. Are you in pain?" "It's bearable," he answered with a rough
"That's not the question," she replied. "I'd like to know what you're feeling."
"Why?"
She suppressed a sigh. "Just humour me."
"Hot and chilly at the same time and it's running along my nerves, tingling sensation, fiery pain. Is that enough?" He ended up packed on his sofa, a blanket around him. A short time later she came back from his kitchen, a hot mug in her hands. "For you," she said when she handed it over. Of course she knew about his "drink this" flashback. Apparently she wasn't keen on chasing him through the streets in the middle of the night. "What's that?" he sniffed at the mug.
"Herbal tea, good for your nerves. Give it a try."
Still not convinced, but not in the mood to fight over it, Jack drank the hot brew.
"Was it the acid or Shak'Ra?" she asked once he had emptied his mug.
Jack closed his eyes and put his left arm over his face. It was still too close to him. Why had he called her? He didn't really want to go back there. He didn't really want to talk and most certainly he didn't want to answer inquisitive questions. "Both," he finally said hoarsely. "But he never used both of them on you at the same time, did he?"
"Nope. Though I wonder why, should have a nice effect for him."
"What effect did it have on you?"
"Burnt through me, inside and outside," Jack eventually said, still feeling the pain that raced along his nerves. Nervously he changed position, uncomfortable with her questions. Dr Sanders was observing him as he moved restlessly, like a cornered animal, desperate to find a way out. She knew, she had to be careful. If she chose the wrong words now, she would send him running. She was moving in her chair. "Colonel, may I touch you?" Automatically he recoiled. His head spun around, his dark eyes searched hers, expressing mistrust and fear. She was watching him, hoping she hadn't misjudged the situation. Patiently she waited for his permission. "Okay," he said reluctantly, bracing himself for the pain that came with touching. Glad she had won his trust, Lilian Sanders reached out. Gently she took his arm and saw him wincing. She let her fingers run lightly along his skin, and when he didn't react with a scream of pain her grip got harder. "Does this hurt?" Her fingers danced on his skin, squeezing and pinching and her fingernails scratching a bit. "No," he said, surprised not to feel his flesh sliced open to the bones. "It's still tingling like before. No pain." She let go of his arm. "I think what happened, and not for the first time, is that your nerves remember the pain. This nightmare was less caused by your subconscious mind but rather by the after-effect of the drug in your system." "Uh yeah," Jack said wearily, well remembering Ba'al's words.
"The drug had an immediate and direct effect on your nerves, especially the nerve-endings, then you were submitted to such extreme pain, that it got chiselled in their memory. Every now and then you will experience some kind of flashback. Your brain tries to come up with an explanation and the result is a nightmare such as this." "What can I do against it?"
"Not very much, I'm afraid. You have to give it time to fade. Months, maybe even years. Knowing what's happening helps. Just keep in mind what it is and don't panic when it happens. I could talk with Dr Fraiser, she could give you something against the pain." "No need."
"Yeah, I expected you to say that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Colonel, remember, I read your file."
"I don't think I could forget that," he mumbled sleepily. "Doc, did you put anything into that tea?" "Only herbs, Colonel, only herbs. I know you don't like taking pills. Try to sleep, if you can. I'll be here." She watched him as his eyes fell shut. Then she slipped her shoes off and put her feet on the chair. She was prepared to watch over him for the rest of the night, as she had done before with various other patients who had been too scared to go to sleep.
 
"How are you feeling, Colonel?"
The pre-mission exam Doc Fraiser was submitting him to seemed to take endless. The whole morning she had prodded and probed, sticked him full of needles, put him to this test and that test, and some of them she seemed to have invented especially for this occasion. Jack slowly grew impatient. After weeks of light duty and regular sessions Dr Sanders had finally given her okay to let him go back to active duty, provided Dr Fraiser declared him fit for duty, too. Of course, this didn't mean he was released from his therapy sessions right away, Sanders had previsioned another two months of two sessions every week and most naturally he didn't have a say in this. However, he didn't mind that much, since for the first time in his life he had to admit that he found the sessions with a shrink helpful. Of course, he'd never admit this to anybody. Jack knew that neither Sanders nor Fraiser would declare him fit for duty were they not convinced he really was ready to go back to work. So he was finally scheduled for his first mission since his return, a short trip to planet P4X whatever, one of those "he's back from the dead, let's send SG-1 on an easy, uncomplicated planet"-mission. Jack always had been hating them and the sooner they got started, the sooner they could get back to real work. "Fine, Doctor, you've asked that before." Jack glared at the syringe Janet Fraiser was holding in her hand. "Actually you've asked this three times already." Janet sighed. "I'm just concerned." She watched him, as he sat there, restlessly, impatient. He was definitely back to his old self, though she could see the lines in his face, deeper drawn than before. "Today I got Dr. Sanders' latest report. She's most pleased with your cooperation." "What's wrong with that? It's you who's always asked me to cooperate." "Well, for one there's your well-known distrust and contempt regarding psychiatrists. I'm really glad to hear it worked out for you this time." Janet still couldn't believe that part of it, Jack O'Neill fully cooperating with a psychiatrist. Before Sanders had told him that she would let him go back to active duty, Janet had been at her office and they had had a long talk about the Colonel. They had agreed that Sanders should continue her sessions for a couple of weeks and try to enhance his coping abilities especially with regard to flashbacks and bouts of remembered pain. Jack shrugged lightly, trying to cover that nothing about this had been easy for him. Dr. Sanders' stubborn insistence and remarkable patience, and apparently enough experience in dealing with similar cases, had helped him not to run away from her. He appreciated her straight-forward approach and her deep understanding of the situation. And of course there had been the knowledge that this was the only way that would lead him back to active duty. "She's ... different," he just said in way of explanation. Actually he thought that it was not only Dr. Sanders who had helped him, but Daniel's appearance. Probably both of them. "And there are no more nightmares?" Janet asked.
"Not more than the usual. Really, Doc," he said.
"Flashbacks?"
"No," he growled.
"Remembered pain?"
Jack scowled. Of course, she had received a report on this incident. "Only once, but not severe," he replied truthfully. "You know that this can happen anytime again, anytime and anywhere."
"Yeah, I know."
"I'm certain you won't take the pills I prescribed you for this case, but nevertheless I recommend you to keep them on you. It's a physical reaction, just don't panic when it happens." "Easier said than done," he mumbled.
"I'm aware of that. That's why I'm going to explain it to your team, so they know what they're dealing with should this happen offworld." "You won't!" Jack glared at the Doctor but Janet didn't seem to be impressed.
"Afraid you're going to loose your hard-assed Colonel image?" Janet shook her head. "They have to know, Colonel, and that's not open to discussion. Be happy that you're back to active duty in such a short time." "This is short?"
"Yes, given what you've been through, it's short."
"Well then, if you say so, I'm happy."
"Hey," Janet admonished him quietly. "You're back to active duty less than four months after you came back, and you worked hard to get there." Janet watched him thoughtfully. She still saw the dark shadows in his eyes and since his first encounter with Ba'al his hair had grown much more silvery than before. "You know, you really had me worried this time." His eyes met hers. "Yeah, I know." Slowly he put his t-shirt back on. "Thank you," he said softly. "For what?"
Awkwardly he shrugged. "For not handing me over to McKenzie and instead bringing in Dr. Sanders." "I'm glad she could help you."
"Yeah, me too."
"Colonel, Cassie wants to spend the weekend at the cabin, she asked me to invite you and SG-1." "I'm allowed to go off to a cabin now?"
"Of course, when you can go through the Stargate to another planet you can also go to a cabin." "I'll be there, and I'll tell the others. So, can I go now?"
"Yes, Colonel, back to duty."
Janet watched him leaving with his long-legged stride, never looking back.