Title:"Al-Maghfira" (Arabic for "Forgiveness")
Rating: PG-ish?
Disclaimer: I own the DVD's, but don't own the show or its characters. I just borrow them for fanfic.
Summary: A "fill-in-the-blanks" Season 7 finale ficlet. My take on the scenes with Jack and the imam. Jack discusses penance and forgiveness.
This is something I came up with recently after watching the Season 7 finale again. A lot of people disliked and disagreed with the scene involving Jack and the imam, but I actually liked it. Imam Gohar being there didn't necessarily mean that Jack is going to convert to Islam. In my opinion: Jack knows that he has done some bad things, and considers himself too "dirty" to be accepted by any God. At the end of his life, all he wants is penance for his sins. But that's just my take on that scene.
Hopefully this does an OK job explaining my thoughts (and Jack's and Gohar's) about the scene.
Al-Maghfira
(Forgiveness)
Dr. Sunny Macer was exhausted and upset. She gently placed another thin hospital-issue pillow behind Jack's head and tucked the starched sheets tighter around his frail form. "The medication I just gave you will help take some of the edge off of the muscle tremors," she said quietly. "I've given you something for the pain... but there isn't much more I can do for you. The CJD is in a very advanced stage." Jack said nothing. His face betrayed no emotion.
"The tremors and seizures are going to increase, and the muscle weakness is going to spread. You'll probably experience severe headaches, nausea, and nerve pain. You know that this pathogen and its effects are unpredictable, so I can't predict how... how long it will be," she finished lamely.
A silent, stoic nod.
Dr. Macer bit her lip. "If you'd like, I can give you some morphine." She met his gaze. "A large dose will induce a coma."
Jack nodded in understanding, then shook his head. "No. No morphine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The doctor sighed, a heavy sigh full of defeat, regret, and sadness. "All right."
She smoothed a wrinkle in the clear adhesive tape that secured the IV line in his upper left arm; an awkward location, but one of the few accessible veins that she had been able to locate. The line had been placed above a large, dark tattoo of the Virgin of Guadalupe – the Blessed Virgin who couldn't protect him, she thought.
There was a quiet tap on the door, and a nurse poked her head into the small room. "Agent Bauer, there's someone here to see you. Do you want me to send him in?"
"Yes, please."
The door opened further, and a tall dark-haired man walked slowly into the room. He was dressed in traditional Islamic clothing and wore a knitted kufi skullcap. Dr. Macer wasn't sure which surprised her more; the fact that the man was there at all, or that Jack seemed to recognize him.
"I'll leave you two alone," she said, maneuvering around the man towards the door. "Jack, the call button is on the cord dangling over your bed rail. Call me if you need anything." She slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Jack turned his attention to the man standing in the doorway. "Thank you for coming."
Imam Muhtadi al-Gohar smiled faintly as he crossed the room and came to stand next to the bed. "I was surprised to hear from you, Mr. Bauer."
Jack curled his violently spasming hand into a fist and tried to conceal it beneath the covers. "I-I'm dying."
Gohar nodded. "I know."
Jack shook his head slightly, and his next words were said so softly that Gohar had to lean down to hear him. Even then, he was unsure if Jack was talking to him or to himself. "I've made so many mistakes... I always thought I would have time to correct them."
Gohar sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at him. "You do. The time is right now."
He took Jack's trembling hand in his. "Ina li-lahi wa ina ilaihi raji'un," he said quietly in Arabic. "We all belong to Allah, and to Him we will return."
Jack struggled to speak clearly. "No," he finally managed to stammer, shaking his head vehemently. "You... you don't know... what I've done. You saw my Senate hearings on TV yesterday morning. What they said…that wasn't all." He looked first at his tattoo, and then at Gohar. "What would God or Allah want with... someone like me? I'm too... dirty." The last word was something between a growl and a choked sob.
This was not the man that had stood so defiantly in front of the US Senate the previous morning. This man was frail, lost amid a tangle of blankets, tubes, wires, and hospital machinery. He was broken, hurting, and helpless.
Gohar watched out of the corner of his eye as Jack tried to keep from breaking down. O Allah, Your holy Qur'an promises us that the sick and those who visit them are showered in mercy, and that seventy thousand of Your angels send prayers upon them from morning until evening. There is no strength or power but in You.
"I see before me a man, Mr. Bauer, with all of his flaws and all of his goodness. Not a dirty man, not an evil man. Simply a man." He bent his head to meet Jack's gaze.
With effort, Jack nodded. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely.
Over the next two hours, Gohar listened as Jack shared the shame and regret of the things that he had been made to do. As Jack spoke, struggling to get the words out amidst tears and the muscle tremors, Gohar prayed silently for the broken, hurting man.
He watched the blinking numbers and lines on the monitors rise and fall as Jack's violent tremors gradually increased. The dark-haired woman (Dr. Sunny Macer, he noted, reading her name badge) slipped into the room with a syringe, attached it to the port on Jack's IV line, and slowly emptied its contents into the tubing.
Sunny Macer stood next to the bed for several moments, watching Jack and the monitors, before leaving the room as quickly and quietly as she had come.
Gohar didn't ask, didn't want to know.
As-salaam alaikum, wa Rahmatu'llahi, wa Barakatuhu, he prayed. May peace be upon you, and the Mercy of Allah, and all His blessings.
Baraka'llah, wa Hasbuka'llah, wa Yarhamuka'llah. May Allah bless you, suffice you, and have mercy upon you.
A'meen.
-Fin-