Winter of the Heart - Sequel to Screams in the Silence
Chapter One - Freezing
by Flatkatsi
The restaurant was noisy and crowded, and it was only because they were regulars that they had been found a table, attracting the glare of the people waiting at the door. The evening had started pleasantly enough. The idea was, after all, a good one - a chance to unwind and relax after the events of the last few weeks. They had certainly relaxed, or at least half of the team had, after the first bottle of wine. Daniel had relaxed to the point where any inhibitions he may have had about their capture by Rast'ur had been totally lost.
Jack exchanged looks with Teal'c. Neither of them showed any sign of inebriation. Teal'c because, as usual he had restricted his fluid intake to water, and Jack, well, Jack wasn't sure why. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying. He would have given anything not to have to listen to Daniel's current topic of conversation.
"You were just lying there in this pool of blood, Jack. Staring straight at me." His words were slurred. "I wanted to close your eyes, but they wouldn't let me go to you."
"That's enough, Daniel." Jack glanced around the crowded room. The level of noise had covered their conversation, but Daniel's voice was rising as he became more upset.
"You were choking, bleed."
"Stop it, Daniel." Jack finally managed to get the attention of his friend. "We shouldn't talk about this here."
Sam decided to take an interest in the proceedings, looking up from her glass. "The Colonel's right, Daniel. This isn't the place." She lowered her eyes again. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
Daniel sat back with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "No, it was a great idea. Go out, act like everything's normal." Sam reached over and touched his arm. He shook it off with a grimace. "But it isn't normal, is it Jack?"
"Daniel." Jack's tone should have been warning enough, but the archaeologist was oblivious.
"You don't get it, do you? We need to talk about it. We need to tell you what it felt like to see you die." He started, looked around as if checking to see if anyone heard, and lowered his voice. "You may be able to forget what happened, but we can't. We aren't as good at forgetting things as you are."
"I believe that you should cease, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's deep voice cut across Daniel's words.
Daniel turned angrily to the other man. "Why? Because Jack doesn't want to talk about it?" He turned back, lifting his hands in disgust. The look on Jack's face stopped his words.
Jack didn't speak loudly. He didn't have to. The coldness in his voice was enough.
"Forget? I'm not likely to do that, am I Daniel?" He paused, staring into the other man's eyes. "Well, am I? Answer me Daniel. Am I?"
The reply came as a mumble, as Daniel dropped his eyes from his friend's furious glare.
"No."
"Exactly. Just because I don't talk about it doesn't mean that I can forget. The fact that, unlike you, I don't want to bare my soul in a public place obviously hasn't occurred to you." He rose, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket and leaned forward, his voice still low. "Why don't you let Teal'c and Carter take you home."
"What about you, sir?"
Jack dropped some notes onto the table.
"Me, Carter? I don't know. All I know is that the last thing I want to do right now is talk." He could see the concern on her face, so he continued, more gently. "Don't worry about me, Carter. You get Daniel home."
"I will accompany you, O'Neill." Teal'c pushed his chair back and began to stand.
"No. Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I don't feel like company right now, and I need you to drive these two home. I'll see you all on Monday, and if Daniel sobers up enough to remember anything, tell him not to worry."
"If you are sure, O'Neill."
"I'm sure, T." He stopped, knowing that regardless of what he said now his team would worry about him. "I'll go have another couple of drinks, unwind a bit before I head home. I'll be fine."
*********************
The smoke in the bar aggravated his throat, but he could put up with a little discomfort. That was all it was - discomfort. Not that solid pain he had lived with for weeks, that awful feeling he still woke up to some nights.
He held up the glass in front of him, and stared into its amber liquid.
Daniel just didn't get it. He had told them what had happened. Told them and the General. All those sordid details he had kept secret until the confrontation with the snake on Thor's ship. They had been horrified to hear the particulars of that lovely little mission.
He had told them the details. He didn't need to talk about how he felt when he had seen them lying dead. They didn't need to know what emotions had run through his head while he buried their bodies. He didn't want to hear Daniel's outpouring of feelings. He knew what it was like to watch a friend die, and he didn't want to be reminded of it.
It was finished, over with.
Nothing else needed to be said.
Jack raised the glass and swallowed its contents down in one gulp, savouring the warmth as it washed down his throat, clearing away the smoke.
The sudden shout was shrill in the almost empty room.
"Everyone. Hands where we can see them."
Jack placed his glass down slowly, and turned.
"Don't move!" The heavy set man pulled the sawn off shotgun towards the movement, pointing it squarely at Jack's chest.
Jack froze.
"When my friend here has finished, he's going to ask you for your wallets. I don't want any arguments."
His companion walked around the bar, pushing the bartender aside to open the cash register and remove the bills. His eyes darted anxiously between the other robber and the few patrons.
Jack watched carefully as the two men worked the room, making each person lie on the floor after they relieved them of their valuables. Only one customer objected, a young man obviously too drunk to realise his danger. The pistol barrel swiftly cut his brief moment of heroism short and he slumped unconscious to the floor, the woman with him crouching next to him, crying silently.
The thinner, sandy haired man held his pistol in steady hands, despite his obvious nervousness. As he came closer Jack could see that it was a Glock, a nice weapon in anyone's language.
"Your turn. Get your wallet out." The pistol wavered slightly as the man gestured. "Slow and steady."
Jack reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling it back slightly as he did so.
"Stop." The man stepped closer and raised the barrel of his gun up, pushing Jack's collar aside. "Come look at this."
"What?" The other man strode over. "Shit! What happened to him?"
Jack felt their eyes fix on his neck, taking in the ridge of scarring that ringed it.
"Pretty impressive. Fight?" The older man's voice had a note of genuine curiosity.
"No." Jack finished getting his wallet out, and held it out.
"Don't want to talk about it? A man with a scar like that has to be either fucking tough or fucking stupid. Which one are you?"
"Neither. Just take the money." Jack kept his voice calm, feeling the frightened eyes of the other people on him.
With a sudden sideways swipe the shotgun stuck Jack across the chest, rocking him back into the bar.
"I'm the one giving the orders around here. I'll take your money when I feel like it. Now answer me. Which are you - stupid or tough?" The man's voice was as calm as Jack's.
Jack straightened up, and stood silently holding out his wallet.
The other man gave a short laugh. "That answers your question. Tough guy here had a run in with the wrong end of one of these and lost." He transferred his gun to his left hand and reached into the waistband of his trousers with the other, pulling out a long, wicked looking knife. His friend watched smiling, as he stood in front of Jack, holding the knife up.
Yeas'r's face leered down at him. Jack watched as, with slow deliberate movements, he raised a large knife and held it before his eyes. Then he lowered it, holding Jack's gaze all the while.
The blade was cold against Jack's throat. Everything seemed to slow down. The sound of his friends faded into the distance, his heartbeat all that he could hear.
He moved.
This time his arms were free. This time he wasn't kneeling. This time his team wasn't watching.
His rigid hand slammed into the bridge of the heavy man's nose, crushing the bone and killing him instantly, his shotgun dropping to the floor. The knife was already in his hands and slicing upwards as the pistol fired from point blank range. He felt the thump of the bullet hit his shoulder, pushing him back.
He didn't fall.
Jack looked down at the two men on the floor, stooped, and picked his wallet up from beside the man with the knife sticking out of his chest, eyes open and staring.
Open and staring.
That reminded him of something. He gave it some thought for a moment and then gave up. Shaking his head to clear it, he put the wallet back into his pocket and walked to the entrance, bright drops of blood falling as he left the building.
The darkness swallowed him up.
********************
The police arrived, within minutes of the bartender's call, to find one victim with a fractured cheekbone and two dead robbers.
There was no sign of their killer.
A trail of blood confirmed that he had been injured, how badly none of the eye witnesses could say - they had been too busy keeping their heads down to take much in. The trail petered out when it reached the far side of the parking lot, lost on the rain soaked pavement.
Finding him would have to wait until morning.
********************
Jack pulled his jacket around himself, shivering in the cool predawn air. The breeze blew in through the broken windows, bringing with it the sound of distant traffic and soft wails of sirens. He sat, cross-legged, concentrating. He knew exactly where he was, knew exactly what he had done, what he had left behind him.
The same sort of thing that he always left behind him.
Death.
There was nothing complicated about it.
Killing was never complicated.
He let his mind empty of all emotion, breathing slowly and evenly.
He shut his eyes.
The blood continued to drip.
*********************
"Oh my god!" Daniel moaned into his cupped hands. "Tell me that I didn't say what I think I said."
"Indeed you did, Daniel Jackson."
Daniel raised his head slightly and opened one eye, trying to see if Teal'c was joking. He didn't look like he was joking. He looked even more solemn than usual.
Daniel dropped his head back onto the cushion, and moaned again.
"He was angry, wasn't he?"
"Indeed."
"I think I'll go throw up now."
"Good."
Teal'c was still standing in his living room when Daniel left the bathroom, collapsing on to the lounge chair once more. He shut his eyes, trying to still the dizziness that threatened to take over all. His memories of the evening were blurred and indistinct, but he remembered the important parts.
He remembered Jack's eyes.
**********************
Jack was sitting in the same position when the light filtered through the holes in the dirty glass. The drip of the collected rain falling from the gutters of the old building became hypnotic. It counterbalanced the sound of his heart as it pattered away in his chest.
It was calming to just sit. For a moment it was just him and the rain. No one to intrude on his thoughts, just calm, sweet solitude.
It was good to be alone.
No questions. No stares. No explanations. No need to be aware of his surroundings. Just a little time for Jack O'Neill to sit quietly and let the world tend to itself.
"Hey, buddy."
He hadn't heard the man approach, something that happened so rarely that it made the soldier within him jump. He reacted instinctively, untwisting and lashing out with his leg, taking the figure looming over him to the ground. His hands were already poised when he pulled back, staring down at the figure in a blue uniform.
He lowered his hands and moved until his back rested against the grimy wall, watching impassively as the cop drew his gun with trembling hands.
He had been so close.
Too close.
**********************
Lou Ferretti was in the gym when the call came for him to go to General Hammond's office. His immediate thoughts were a panicked revision of everything that he had done over the last few days, almost like the many times he had been called to the principal's office in high school. There wasn't anything that he could think of. The off world missions that SG-2 had been on lately had been unremarkable, he had duly written his reports, even submitted them in good time for a change.
No - for once in his life, he was safe from the wrath of his superiors.
He knocked on the General's door with a light heart and a cheery smile.
"Come in, Major, and shut the door."
Lou felt his smile fade at the sight of Hammond's grim face.
"I've got a delicate assignment for you, Major. I just received a phone call. Colonel O'Neill has been arrested for assaulting a police office. I'd like you to go down and sort it out."
"Sure, sir. I'll get down there straight away. Do you have any other details?" It wasn't the first time that Lou had bailed Jack out of jail, but that had been back in their wild youth. Not that their more mature years had turned out to be any less wild, but these days they didn't normally involve the local law, just assorted aliens.
"No, I don't. Apparently he was only picked up a short time ago, and I was called as soon as they ran his ID through the computer." Hammond put down the pen that he was holding, and frowned. "You go back further with the Colonel than anyone else on this base, even further than Doctor Jackson. Find out as much as you can, but mainly, just get him out of there and back here as soon as possible. We'll deal with the fallout later."
The General had one last thing to say before Lou left.
"Oh, and Major - I know that I can rely on you to be discrete."
********************
Lou followed his escort through into the back of the holding cells, passing the large communal ones, filled with the usual assorted dregs, and on towards the one or two single cells.
The burly policeman pulled keys from his belt and placed on in the lock, turning it.
"I'm glad to see the back of your friend. I don't know what his problem is, all I know is that the cop that arrested him told us not to go near him and then went home sick. He's lucky, the paperwork didn't get filled out before we ran his ID." He threw open the door, revealing Jack O'Neill lying on the narrow cot, a thin blanket pulled tight around him. "You can take him. I've been told by higher ups to get rid of him, no questions asked."
"Thanks." Lou was relieved to hear that no charges had been laid against his friend; it certainly made things a lots easier - for the Air Force, if not for Jack. God help him when the General got hold of him.
"Hey, Jack, ready to go?" He moved into the small space, watched curiously by the cop at the door,
Jack sat up, bringing the blanket up with him and holding it tightly at his neck.
"Lou?" His voice sounded uncertain, hesitant.
"Yeah, Jack. It's me. The General sent me to come get you." He glanced over to where the policeman stood listening. Explanations could wait. "Let's get out of here." He saw how his friend held on to the blanket, remembering the terrible scar, and as Jack stood, turned to the policeman. "Can we keep the blanket? I'll see that it's returned."
"Sure, why not."
Jack seemed okay, thought Ferretti, a little unsteady on his feet, but that was only to be expected if he'd been on a bender the night before. The two men made it to the car without any problems, and Lou waited until Jack was settled into the passenger seat before speaking.
"Damnit, Jack not this again. Man, when you go and get plastered like this I should be there too. I thought that we agreed on that the last time."
The last time had been back when the Stargate was first reactivated. Jack had been a changed man when they got back from Abydos, much more at peace with himself, as if the events on the planet had brought him some measure of salvation. Lou had been shocked when an almost paralytic Jack O'Neill had woken him up in the early hours of the next morning. It had taken a cold shower and several cups of coffee to find out the cause.
Sara had left him.
That was when Lou had made his friend promise that if he ever felt the need to get that drunk again, Lou could come along for the ride.
It looked like that promise had been forgotten.
Jack stayed silent as they drove, staring out the window, refusing to answer any of Lou's questions. By the time they reached the base, Ferretti had given up in frustration, his normally good humour worn thin by the emotionless mask on the face of his friend.
Christ, Jack could be a stubborn bastard at times, and this was obviously one of them. When he was in this sort of mood there was no budging him.
Lou just hoped that the General would cut Jack some slack, considering what he had been through in the last few weeks. He had watched the Colonel struggling with the frustration of not being able to speak, and, along with everyone else at the base, had wondered what the future held for him. The sound of his voice when he beamed back from Thor's ship had been music to everyone's ears. Ferretti didn't know many of the details of what had happened on the planet, but it had all seemed to be resolved to everyone's satisfaction, things seemed to have got back to normal.
So what was up with Jack? What had set him off?
As they pulled into the base parking lot, Lou made one more attempt to get some sort of response from Jack. He jumped out, hurrying to avoid the cold rain still pouring down, and moved around to the passenger side door.
"Come on, Jack. Maybe if you keep the blanket over your head the General won't know you're back. You may be able to avoid him."
He was shocked when Jack responded to his joking with a weak smile.
"I doubt it, Lou. I think that I better face the music." Jack pulled the threadbare blanket across his shoulders. "May as well go get it over with."
********************
Jack knew that his silence had concerned Ferretti on the drive up the mountain, but he had needed the time to think. From the minute that he had come back to himself in the abandoned building to when they pulled into the parking lot, he had done nothing but think.
And worry.
He was aware of a coldness running through him, seeping into his bones and making him shiver. It was a coldness that had been with him since Rast'ur's body had fallen to the hard floor of Thor's ship, since he had felt the bones break, and heard the snap of the snake's neck. He had been able to ignore it, keep in the background, until the incident in the bar.
Now the coldness had become a frost, burying his heart in ice.
He was terrified of what would happen to the people around him if the ice cracked.
********************
General Hammond was resting his eyes when the knock sounded on his office door. He had spent the morning trying not to worry about his errant 2IC, but had found it impossible to concentrate on his work, his mind constantly returning to Colonel O'Neill. Finally he had given up, leaned back in his chair, and shut his eyes, trying to will away the headache he felt forming. At the sound of the knock, he opened his eyes, and saw the man in question leaning against the door jam.
"Colonel O'Neill. I see that Major Ferretti was successful."
"Yes, sir, you could say that." The smile with which O'Neill replied didn't quite reach his eyes.
Hammond took in the unkempt appearance of the man standing in front of him, the unshaven face, tired eyes, wrinkled trousers, and the dirty green blanket, and sighed. O'Neill looked like he had spent rough night out on the town.
Not what he expected from the 2IC of his base.
"Come in, Colonel, and close the door."
He waited until the door was closed, and gestured for Jack to sit.
"I'm disappointed, Colonel. I've given you plenty of leeway over the years, I've defended you, and your actions to everyone from the President on down, but I don't know how long I can keep covering for you." He paused and rubbed a hand across his face. "God, Jack. I know that you've had a hard time of it lately, and I'll take that into consideration, but you better have a damned good explanation for this fiasco. Assaulting a police officer! What the hell happened? Are they laying charges?"
He waited for his answer.
**********************
Jack felt like he was watching everything from a distance, as if he was totally divorced from the proceedings. He could hear the General's words, see his suppressed anger, but just could not find the energy to respond to it. He knew that he needed to give his superior an explanation.
It took all his energy to summon up a few words.
"No, sir, they aren't laying charges."
The General was waiting, he knew that. He could see the look of annoyance growing. Somehow, it just didn't seem important.
"Well, Colonel? I'm waiting."
So am I, thought Jack. So am I. I don't know what for, but I do know that it won't be pretty.
He concentrated as hard as he could to hold it in, but he could feel the force growing.
He saw the dead bodies of his team, lying in the hot sun. He saw his son, lying on the carpet. He saw Frank falling, reached out to grab him. Reached out to stop him, reached out to stop them all from dying.
He couldn't hold them all. There were too many, but he tried.
Then he saw the knife in his hand, felt the gun he held to his head.
He should have fired it, but he had been too much of a coward.
It would have changed everything. How many deaths had he caused since that day?
He felt the despair as if he was still there, still digging that cursed hole. It ate away at him and took him captive. Took the best parts of who he was and ground them into the dirty earth.
What remained of him was cold and heartless. It was the part that delighted in the sound of a neck snapping, of a knife tearing into flesh.
Jack shuddered, holding hard to what little good remained.
Blood dripped.
********************
General Hammond waited for an answer. As the silence lengthened his eyes narrowed as he watched Colonel O'Neill. The other man's gaze seemed unfocused, as if drunk.
He had just about had enough of this. He was one short angry breath away from having the Colonel escorted to the brig to sleep it off.
Then O'Neill shuddered, his whole body shaking.
And Hammond saw something drop out from under the blanket and join a dark pool spreading across his carpet.
"God, Jack, what have you done to yourself this time?" He sprang out of his seat as he spoke, rounding the desk, and ripping aside the green cloth.
"Christ, Jack!" O'Neill's upper body on one side was almost completely covered in thick, dried blood, an almost impossible amount, some still slowly seeping from what looked like a bullet hole in his shoulder.
The General grabbed the phone with shaking hands, barking orders, before placing his hand on the wound, pressing as hard as he could. All the while he felt Jack's eyes on him, as if desperate for something to hold on to.
When the Colonel spoke, it was to say the last thing that General Hammond expected.
"I think I need to make an appointment to see Doctor MacKenzie."
************************
Chapter One - Freezing
by Flatkatsi
The restaurant was noisy and crowded, and it was only because they were regulars that they had been found a table, attracting the glare of the people waiting at the door. The evening had started pleasantly enough. The idea was, after all, a good one - a chance to unwind and relax after the events of the last few weeks. They had certainly relaxed, or at least half of the team had, after the first bottle of wine. Daniel had relaxed to the point where any inhibitions he may have had about their capture by Rast'ur had been totally lost.
Jack exchanged looks with Teal'c. Neither of them showed any sign of inebriation. Teal'c because, as usual he had restricted his fluid intake to water, and Jack, well, Jack wasn't sure why. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying. He would have given anything not to have to listen to Daniel's current topic of conversation.
"You were just lying there in this pool of blood, Jack. Staring straight at me." His words were slurred. "I wanted to close your eyes, but they wouldn't let me go to you."
"That's enough, Daniel." Jack glanced around the crowded room. The level of noise had covered their conversation, but Daniel's voice was rising as he became more upset.
"You were choking, bleed."
"Stop it, Daniel." Jack finally managed to get the attention of his friend. "We shouldn't talk about this here."
Sam decided to take an interest in the proceedings, looking up from her glass. "The Colonel's right, Daniel. This isn't the place." She lowered her eyes again. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
Daniel sat back with a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "No, it was a great idea. Go out, act like everything's normal." Sam reached over and touched his arm. He shook it off with a grimace. "But it isn't normal, is it Jack?"
"Daniel." Jack's tone should have been warning enough, but the archaeologist was oblivious.
"You don't get it, do you? We need to talk about it. We need to tell you what it felt like to see you die." He started, looked around as if checking to see if anyone heard, and lowered his voice. "You may be able to forget what happened, but we can't. We aren't as good at forgetting things as you are."
"I believe that you should cease, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's deep voice cut across Daniel's words.
Daniel turned angrily to the other man. "Why? Because Jack doesn't want to talk about it?" He turned back, lifting his hands in disgust. The look on Jack's face stopped his words.
Jack didn't speak loudly. He didn't have to. The coldness in his voice was enough.
"Forget? I'm not likely to do that, am I Daniel?" He paused, staring into the other man's eyes. "Well, am I? Answer me Daniel. Am I?"
The reply came as a mumble, as Daniel dropped his eyes from his friend's furious glare.
"No."
"Exactly. Just because I don't talk about it doesn't mean that I can forget. The fact that, unlike you, I don't want to bare my soul in a public place obviously hasn't occurred to you." He rose, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket and leaned forward, his voice still low. "Why don't you let Teal'c and Carter take you home."
"What about you, sir?"
Jack dropped some notes onto the table.
"Me, Carter? I don't know. All I know is that the last thing I want to do right now is talk." He could see the concern on her face, so he continued, more gently. "Don't worry about me, Carter. You get Daniel home."
"I will accompany you, O'Neill." Teal'c pushed his chair back and began to stand.
"No. Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I don't feel like company right now, and I need you to drive these two home. I'll see you all on Monday, and if Daniel sobers up enough to remember anything, tell him not to worry."
"If you are sure, O'Neill."
"I'm sure, T." He stopped, knowing that regardless of what he said now his team would worry about him. "I'll go have another couple of drinks, unwind a bit before I head home. I'll be fine."
*********************
The smoke in the bar aggravated his throat, but he could put up with a little discomfort. That was all it was - discomfort. Not that solid pain he had lived with for weeks, that awful feeling he still woke up to some nights.
He held up the glass in front of him, and stared into its amber liquid.
Daniel just didn't get it. He had told them what had happened. Told them and the General. All those sordid details he had kept secret until the confrontation with the snake on Thor's ship. They had been horrified to hear the particulars of that lovely little mission.
He had told them the details. He didn't need to talk about how he felt when he had seen them lying dead. They didn't need to know what emotions had run through his head while he buried their bodies. He didn't want to hear Daniel's outpouring of feelings. He knew what it was like to watch a friend die, and he didn't want to be reminded of it.
It was finished, over with.
Nothing else needed to be said.
Jack raised the glass and swallowed its contents down in one gulp, savouring the warmth as it washed down his throat, clearing away the smoke.
The sudden shout was shrill in the almost empty room.
"Everyone. Hands where we can see them."
Jack placed his glass down slowly, and turned.
"Don't move!" The heavy set man pulled the sawn off shotgun towards the movement, pointing it squarely at Jack's chest.
Jack froze.
"When my friend here has finished, he's going to ask you for your wallets. I don't want any arguments."
His companion walked around the bar, pushing the bartender aside to open the cash register and remove the bills. His eyes darted anxiously between the other robber and the few patrons.
Jack watched carefully as the two men worked the room, making each person lie on the floor after they relieved them of their valuables. Only one customer objected, a young man obviously too drunk to realise his danger. The pistol barrel swiftly cut his brief moment of heroism short and he slumped unconscious to the floor, the woman with him crouching next to him, crying silently.
The thinner, sandy haired man held his pistol in steady hands, despite his obvious nervousness. As he came closer Jack could see that it was a Glock, a nice weapon in anyone's language.
"Your turn. Get your wallet out." The pistol wavered slightly as the man gestured. "Slow and steady."
Jack reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling it back slightly as he did so.
"Stop." The man stepped closer and raised the barrel of his gun up, pushing Jack's collar aside. "Come look at this."
"What?" The other man strode over. "Shit! What happened to him?"
Jack felt their eyes fix on his neck, taking in the ridge of scarring that ringed it.
"Pretty impressive. Fight?" The older man's voice had a note of genuine curiosity.
"No." Jack finished getting his wallet out, and held it out.
"Don't want to talk about it? A man with a scar like that has to be either fucking tough or fucking stupid. Which one are you?"
"Neither. Just take the money." Jack kept his voice calm, feeling the frightened eyes of the other people on him.
With a sudden sideways swipe the shotgun stuck Jack across the chest, rocking him back into the bar.
"I'm the one giving the orders around here. I'll take your money when I feel like it. Now answer me. Which are you - stupid or tough?" The man's voice was as calm as Jack's.
Jack straightened up, and stood silently holding out his wallet.
The other man gave a short laugh. "That answers your question. Tough guy here had a run in with the wrong end of one of these and lost." He transferred his gun to his left hand and reached into the waistband of his trousers with the other, pulling out a long, wicked looking knife. His friend watched smiling, as he stood in front of Jack, holding the knife up.
Yeas'r's face leered down at him. Jack watched as, with slow deliberate movements, he raised a large knife and held it before his eyes. Then he lowered it, holding Jack's gaze all the while.
The blade was cold against Jack's throat. Everything seemed to slow down. The sound of his friends faded into the distance, his heartbeat all that he could hear.
He moved.
This time his arms were free. This time he wasn't kneeling. This time his team wasn't watching.
His rigid hand slammed into the bridge of the heavy man's nose, crushing the bone and killing him instantly, his shotgun dropping to the floor. The knife was already in his hands and slicing upwards as the pistol fired from point blank range. He felt the thump of the bullet hit his shoulder, pushing him back.
He didn't fall.
Jack looked down at the two men on the floor, stooped, and picked his wallet up from beside the man with the knife sticking out of his chest, eyes open and staring.
Open and staring.
That reminded him of something. He gave it some thought for a moment and then gave up. Shaking his head to clear it, he put the wallet back into his pocket and walked to the entrance, bright drops of blood falling as he left the building.
The darkness swallowed him up.
********************
The police arrived, within minutes of the bartender's call, to find one victim with a fractured cheekbone and two dead robbers.
There was no sign of their killer.
A trail of blood confirmed that he had been injured, how badly none of the eye witnesses could say - they had been too busy keeping their heads down to take much in. The trail petered out when it reached the far side of the parking lot, lost on the rain soaked pavement.
Finding him would have to wait until morning.
********************
Jack pulled his jacket around himself, shivering in the cool predawn air. The breeze blew in through the broken windows, bringing with it the sound of distant traffic and soft wails of sirens. He sat, cross-legged, concentrating. He knew exactly where he was, knew exactly what he had done, what he had left behind him.
The same sort of thing that he always left behind him.
Death.
There was nothing complicated about it.
Killing was never complicated.
He let his mind empty of all emotion, breathing slowly and evenly.
He shut his eyes.
The blood continued to drip.
*********************
"Oh my god!" Daniel moaned into his cupped hands. "Tell me that I didn't say what I think I said."
"Indeed you did, Daniel Jackson."
Daniel raised his head slightly and opened one eye, trying to see if Teal'c was joking. He didn't look like he was joking. He looked even more solemn than usual.
Daniel dropped his head back onto the cushion, and moaned again.
"He was angry, wasn't he?"
"Indeed."
"I think I'll go throw up now."
"Good."
Teal'c was still standing in his living room when Daniel left the bathroom, collapsing on to the lounge chair once more. He shut his eyes, trying to still the dizziness that threatened to take over all. His memories of the evening were blurred and indistinct, but he remembered the important parts.
He remembered Jack's eyes.
**********************
Jack was sitting in the same position when the light filtered through the holes in the dirty glass. The drip of the collected rain falling from the gutters of the old building became hypnotic. It counterbalanced the sound of his heart as it pattered away in his chest.
It was calming to just sit. For a moment it was just him and the rain. No one to intrude on his thoughts, just calm, sweet solitude.
It was good to be alone.
No questions. No stares. No explanations. No need to be aware of his surroundings. Just a little time for Jack O'Neill to sit quietly and let the world tend to itself.
"Hey, buddy."
He hadn't heard the man approach, something that happened so rarely that it made the soldier within him jump. He reacted instinctively, untwisting and lashing out with his leg, taking the figure looming over him to the ground. His hands were already poised when he pulled back, staring down at the figure in a blue uniform.
He lowered his hands and moved until his back rested against the grimy wall, watching impassively as the cop drew his gun with trembling hands.
He had been so close.
Too close.
**********************
Lou Ferretti was in the gym when the call came for him to go to General Hammond's office. His immediate thoughts were a panicked revision of everything that he had done over the last few days, almost like the many times he had been called to the principal's office in high school. There wasn't anything that he could think of. The off world missions that SG-2 had been on lately had been unremarkable, he had duly written his reports, even submitted them in good time for a change.
No - for once in his life, he was safe from the wrath of his superiors.
He knocked on the General's door with a light heart and a cheery smile.
"Come in, Major, and shut the door."
Lou felt his smile fade at the sight of Hammond's grim face.
"I've got a delicate assignment for you, Major. I just received a phone call. Colonel O'Neill has been arrested for assaulting a police office. I'd like you to go down and sort it out."
"Sure, sir. I'll get down there straight away. Do you have any other details?" It wasn't the first time that Lou had bailed Jack out of jail, but that had been back in their wild youth. Not that their more mature years had turned out to be any less wild, but these days they didn't normally involve the local law, just assorted aliens.
"No, I don't. Apparently he was only picked up a short time ago, and I was called as soon as they ran his ID through the computer." Hammond put down the pen that he was holding, and frowned. "You go back further with the Colonel than anyone else on this base, even further than Doctor Jackson. Find out as much as you can, but mainly, just get him out of there and back here as soon as possible. We'll deal with the fallout later."
The General had one last thing to say before Lou left.
"Oh, and Major - I know that I can rely on you to be discrete."
********************
Lou followed his escort through into the back of the holding cells, passing the large communal ones, filled with the usual assorted dregs, and on towards the one or two single cells.
The burly policeman pulled keys from his belt and placed on in the lock, turning it.
"I'm glad to see the back of your friend. I don't know what his problem is, all I know is that the cop that arrested him told us not to go near him and then went home sick. He's lucky, the paperwork didn't get filled out before we ran his ID." He threw open the door, revealing Jack O'Neill lying on the narrow cot, a thin blanket pulled tight around him. "You can take him. I've been told by higher ups to get rid of him, no questions asked."
"Thanks." Lou was relieved to hear that no charges had been laid against his friend; it certainly made things a lots easier - for the Air Force, if not for Jack. God help him when the General got hold of him.
"Hey, Jack, ready to go?" He moved into the small space, watched curiously by the cop at the door,
Jack sat up, bringing the blanket up with him and holding it tightly at his neck.
"Lou?" His voice sounded uncertain, hesitant.
"Yeah, Jack. It's me. The General sent me to come get you." He glanced over to where the policeman stood listening. Explanations could wait. "Let's get out of here." He saw how his friend held on to the blanket, remembering the terrible scar, and as Jack stood, turned to the policeman. "Can we keep the blanket? I'll see that it's returned."
"Sure, why not."
Jack seemed okay, thought Ferretti, a little unsteady on his feet, but that was only to be expected if he'd been on a bender the night before. The two men made it to the car without any problems, and Lou waited until Jack was settled into the passenger seat before speaking.
"Damnit, Jack not this again. Man, when you go and get plastered like this I should be there too. I thought that we agreed on that the last time."
The last time had been back when the Stargate was first reactivated. Jack had been a changed man when they got back from Abydos, much more at peace with himself, as if the events on the planet had brought him some measure of salvation. Lou had been shocked when an almost paralytic Jack O'Neill had woken him up in the early hours of the next morning. It had taken a cold shower and several cups of coffee to find out the cause.
Sara had left him.
That was when Lou had made his friend promise that if he ever felt the need to get that drunk again, Lou could come along for the ride.
It looked like that promise had been forgotten.
Jack stayed silent as they drove, staring out the window, refusing to answer any of Lou's questions. By the time they reached the base, Ferretti had given up in frustration, his normally good humour worn thin by the emotionless mask on the face of his friend.
Christ, Jack could be a stubborn bastard at times, and this was obviously one of them. When he was in this sort of mood there was no budging him.
Lou just hoped that the General would cut Jack some slack, considering what he had been through in the last few weeks. He had watched the Colonel struggling with the frustration of not being able to speak, and, along with everyone else at the base, had wondered what the future held for him. The sound of his voice when he beamed back from Thor's ship had been music to everyone's ears. Ferretti didn't know many of the details of what had happened on the planet, but it had all seemed to be resolved to everyone's satisfaction, things seemed to have got back to normal.
So what was up with Jack? What had set him off?
As they pulled into the base parking lot, Lou made one more attempt to get some sort of response from Jack. He jumped out, hurrying to avoid the cold rain still pouring down, and moved around to the passenger side door.
"Come on, Jack. Maybe if you keep the blanket over your head the General won't know you're back. You may be able to avoid him."
He was shocked when Jack responded to his joking with a weak smile.
"I doubt it, Lou. I think that I better face the music." Jack pulled the threadbare blanket across his shoulders. "May as well go get it over with."
********************
Jack knew that his silence had concerned Ferretti on the drive up the mountain, but he had needed the time to think. From the minute that he had come back to himself in the abandoned building to when they pulled into the parking lot, he had done nothing but think.
And worry.
He was aware of a coldness running through him, seeping into his bones and making him shiver. It was a coldness that had been with him since Rast'ur's body had fallen to the hard floor of Thor's ship, since he had felt the bones break, and heard the snap of the snake's neck. He had been able to ignore it, keep in the background, until the incident in the bar.
Now the coldness had become a frost, burying his heart in ice.
He was terrified of what would happen to the people around him if the ice cracked.
********************
General Hammond was resting his eyes when the knock sounded on his office door. He had spent the morning trying not to worry about his errant 2IC, but had found it impossible to concentrate on his work, his mind constantly returning to Colonel O'Neill. Finally he had given up, leaned back in his chair, and shut his eyes, trying to will away the headache he felt forming. At the sound of the knock, he opened his eyes, and saw the man in question leaning against the door jam.
"Colonel O'Neill. I see that Major Ferretti was successful."
"Yes, sir, you could say that." The smile with which O'Neill replied didn't quite reach his eyes.
Hammond took in the unkempt appearance of the man standing in front of him, the unshaven face, tired eyes, wrinkled trousers, and the dirty green blanket, and sighed. O'Neill looked like he had spent rough night out on the town.
Not what he expected from the 2IC of his base.
"Come in, Colonel, and close the door."
He waited until the door was closed, and gestured for Jack to sit.
"I'm disappointed, Colonel. I've given you plenty of leeway over the years, I've defended you, and your actions to everyone from the President on down, but I don't know how long I can keep covering for you." He paused and rubbed a hand across his face. "God, Jack. I know that you've had a hard time of it lately, and I'll take that into consideration, but you better have a damned good explanation for this fiasco. Assaulting a police officer! What the hell happened? Are they laying charges?"
He waited for his answer.
**********************
Jack felt like he was watching everything from a distance, as if he was totally divorced from the proceedings. He could hear the General's words, see his suppressed anger, but just could not find the energy to respond to it. He knew that he needed to give his superior an explanation.
It took all his energy to summon up a few words.
"No, sir, they aren't laying charges."
The General was waiting, he knew that. He could see the look of annoyance growing. Somehow, it just didn't seem important.
"Well, Colonel? I'm waiting."
So am I, thought Jack. So am I. I don't know what for, but I do know that it won't be pretty.
He concentrated as hard as he could to hold it in, but he could feel the force growing.
He saw the dead bodies of his team, lying in the hot sun. He saw his son, lying on the carpet. He saw Frank falling, reached out to grab him. Reached out to stop him, reached out to stop them all from dying.
He couldn't hold them all. There were too many, but he tried.
Then he saw the knife in his hand, felt the gun he held to his head.
He should have fired it, but he had been too much of a coward.
It would have changed everything. How many deaths had he caused since that day?
He felt the despair as if he was still there, still digging that cursed hole. It ate away at him and took him captive. Took the best parts of who he was and ground them into the dirty earth.
What remained of him was cold and heartless. It was the part that delighted in the sound of a neck snapping, of a knife tearing into flesh.
Jack shuddered, holding hard to what little good remained.
Blood dripped.
********************
General Hammond waited for an answer. As the silence lengthened his eyes narrowed as he watched Colonel O'Neill. The other man's gaze seemed unfocused, as if drunk.
He had just about had enough of this. He was one short angry breath away from having the Colonel escorted to the brig to sleep it off.
Then O'Neill shuddered, his whole body shaking.
And Hammond saw something drop out from under the blanket and join a dark pool spreading across his carpet.
"God, Jack, what have you done to yourself this time?" He sprang out of his seat as he spoke, rounding the desk, and ripping aside the green cloth.
"Christ, Jack!" O'Neill's upper body on one side was almost completely covered in thick, dried blood, an almost impossible amount, some still slowly seeping from what looked like a bullet hole in his shoulder.
The General grabbed the phone with shaking hands, barking orders, before placing his hand on the wound, pressing as hard as he could. All the while he felt Jack's eyes on him, as if desperate for something to hold on to.
When the Colonel spoke, it was to say the last thing that General Hammond expected.
"I think I need to make an appointment to see Doctor MacKenzie."
************************