All He Wanted

SUMMARY: All Frank Cromwell wanted was forgiveness; instead he died. Jack is having trouble dealing with his own actions over the past few days and Janet is determined to help him. Jack/Janet FRIENDSHIP. No ship.

RATING: T+

SPOILERS: A Matter of Time

Jack O'Neill lay in the soft covers and comfortable protection of the infirmary bed. The soft beeps of different monitors surrounded him. He was safe. The connection to the black hole was severed. He should be glad, or at least relieved. SG-1 had saved the planet, again; however, rather than dwelling on the billions of lives saved, Jack thought only of those lost. Henry Boyd and his team were dead. Jack felt responsible for that. In a lot of ways, though, the loss of Hank paled in comparison to the loss of Frank Cromwell.

Terror emanated from the colonel's eyes as he clung desperately to Jack's tactical vest. With his whole being, Cromwell cried for assistance from the man who was once one of his most trusted friends. Jack looked at him for a moment. He thought of the four months of brutal torture he had endured and of the hopelessness that comes when one believes there is no way home. He thought of the months of painful physical therapy his injuries had required to heal. He thought of the sinking feeling in his gut when he watched Cromwell and the rest of his team leave him in the hot, Iraqi sand to die. Caught up in his thoughts, Jack O'Neill did not immediately reach out to save Cromwell. Eventually, his morals intervened. He knew he could not watch a man die when he could prevent it. To Jack's horror, this decision came too late. Just as he reached out for Cromwell, the other colonel lost his battle with the black hole's gravitational pull. He was ripped off Jack's vest and pulled through the gate. Jack's knowledge of astronomy, coupled with Carter's lectures, told him all too well the fate facing the other colonel. Frank would be torn apart by the gravity waves. And Jack's hesitation was to blame.

"Hey, Colonel. How are you feeling?" The professionally cheerful voice of Dr. Frasier pulled Jack from thoughts. The petite doctor looked at him with concern when he did not immediately respond with a sarcastic remark about the infirmary. "Colonel?" She tried again.

"I'm fine, Doc." Jack lied in a monotone voice, "Just a little tired."

Janet nodded, though her skepticism was obvious. After a few moments of silence, she spoke. "Sir, are you ok?"

"Considering the circumstances," he responded. His eyebrows raised slightly as he continued, trying to make the conversation light, "I was almost blown up."

Janet spared him a smile before responding. "You were, Sir. But that's not what I meant. You said that you knew Colonel Cromwell. Were you two friends?"

When Jack did not respond, Janet spoke again. "Sir, forgive me for prying, but your health – both physical and emotional – is my concern."

Jack nodded slowly. "We used to be… but he hasn't been my friend for a long time."

"I see." She looked at him and he saw hope flicker across her eyes as she added, "Anything you want to talk about?"

"No."

Janet sighed. She was expecting that answer, but it never hurt to ask. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know, ok?"

Jack nodded and watched her head back toward her office. He decided he would attempt to sleep, but visions of Iraq and Cromwell's pleading face plagued his dreams. Several times, he woke in a cold sweat, grateful that Janet was not making rounds. Finally, he managed to settle into a relatively restful, dreamless sleep.

He awoke to Janet changing the bandage on his neck.

"Sorry, sir." She said when she realized she had woken him.

" 's ok." He said groggily. His head was killing him. "Aspirin?" He asked hopefully.

Janet smiled a bit. "Of course. I would imagine you would have quite the headache after what you've been through."

Jack just grunted in agreement as she handed him a paper cup with two pills and a glass of water. "When am I getting outta here?" He asked once he took the medication.

"Probably tomorrow. I just want to keep an eye on your injuries for one more day. You are the only person in history to be that close to an exploding bomb and live to talk about it. Naturally, I need to monitor your condition."

"Naturally…" Jack said with a hint of sarcasm and pure irritation.

"Sir, I know you hate the infirmary, but you'll just need to trust my expertise on this."

"When have I ever not trusted your expertise, Doc?" he said and flashed her what he hoped was a charming smile. Though she smiled back, he knew that she knew his heart wasn't in it.

"Well, frankly I wish that you would trust me with whatever it is that happened between you and Colonel Cromwell. I know it's bothering you, Sir."

Jack looked up and was careful to make eye contact with her. He wanted to be sure she got the point this time. "Doc, I do not want to talk about Cromwell."

Janet nodded. His tough demeanor would cause a civilian to shrink away and never consider the subject again, but to Frasier, he was nothing more than one more military man to get through to. She had treated everyone from sergeants to generals, and her will power always prevailed. She knew that if Jack didn't talk to someone, the situation would just get worse.

Janet watched from her office later that day as SG-1 sat around Jack's bed. She noted that Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel were laughing, while Jack just smiled a bit. Eventually, Daniel and Teal'c left, leaving Sam and Jack to converse quietly. Janet fleetingly considered how cute the two officers would look together, and then scolded herself. She knew it was against regulations, and had witnessed nothing more than a deep respect and friendship between the two. Still, she knew that deep friendships, truly deep friendships, led to more. She forced herself to stop considering the situation and return to her paperwork when Sam rose, gave her CO's arm a reassuring squeeze, and left the infirmary.

Jack was glad for the quiet. He loved his team, but he was exhausted and not in the mood to talk too much as it was. His eyes began to close and his mind began to drift. Soon, he was asleep.

Enemy fire came from everywhere. Captain Jack O'Neill looked to his friend and commanding officer Major Frank Cromwell. He and the rest of Jack's team were some distance away from O'Neill. A retreat had been ordered. Jack turned away from the battle and prepared to make a dash for his team. He felt a sudden, white-hot pain in his shoulder and the desert around him swam for a moment as he fell, hard, onto the sun-baked sand. He looked up at Cromwell's last location expecting to see him running towards him. Expecting to see his rescue coming. Instead, he saw his team members' backs as they retreated without him. His heart sank as he realized he had been left behind. Before he could really assess the situation, unconsciousness claimed him. He came to in a cold cell. His arms were chained above his head. An Iraqi guard approached him with a battery and some cables…

Jack bolted awake. A thin coating of sweat covered his face and arms. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. Gradually, he became aware of someone speaking to him.

"Colonel? It's ok… shhh… it's ok. You were dreaming."

Jack looked in the direction of the soothing voice and saw Dr. Frasier looking at him with concern. Jack's heart rate slowed as he soaked up the reassuring words. For a moment, he had been positive that he was back in Iraq. He took a deep, steadying breath and gladly accepted the glass of water the Doctor handed to him.

"Thank you." He said, handing her the now empty glass.

"Sir, I know that you don't want to, but you need to talk about this. If not to me, then to the general or Dr. McKinsey. Even someone on your team, if you want. I don't care who, but you need to get whatever's bothering you off your chest."

Jack sighed. "I hate shrinks." Jack said.

"I know." She said quietly.

"And I will not burden my team or bother the General with my petty problems."

Janet nodded. She knew that there were skeletons in Jack's closet that no one should ever have to face and that Jack was most likely embarrassed to let anyone know exactly what he had been through in his lifetime.

"What about me, Sir?" Janet asked cautiously.

Jack sighed. "You've read my personnel file, right?"

Janet nodded. "I have. I must admit, it's filled with lots of blanks though."

"I know. One of those blanks is Frank Cromwell, Doc. He was my CO during my special ops excursions in Iraq. I assume that you know I spent four months in an Iraqi prison?"

Janet nodded. She had read the medical reports from that incident. When they first found him, they doubted he would live. She shuddered to imagine what those four months must have been like for Jack. On his return, he had electrical burns over 20 percent of his body, severe scar tissue from what looked like multiple, shallow knife wounds, desert pneumonia, and even some acid burns on his chest and legs. In addition, he was addicted to a stimulant that the guards gave him continuously to keep him conscious for the torture sessions.

"Doc, Frank Cromwell is… or, was… the reason for those four months. The team was ambushed and I took a hit. Frank assumed I was dead and pulled the rest of the team out. He didn't notice me watching them take off."

Janet could not mask her shock. It must have been so difficult for O'Neill to round a corner and unexpectedly see the man responsible for one of the worst times of his life. She was silent. She didn't know what to say.

"His rope broke." Jack said, apparently continue the conversation, though Janet was confused.

"The rope he was on snapped… while we were planting the bomb near the gate." Jack clarified. "He grabbed onto my vest and I could of grabbed him… saved him. But instead, I hesitated. I thought about those four months and… and now he's dead. He's dead."

Jack spoke the last few words so quietly Janet could barely hear them. For a moment, she remained silent. She still had no idea what to say. Jack O'Neill was one of the most selfless people she had ever met. She could not picture him doing nothing to save someone… even someone who would not save him. But, she understood why he did.

"Sir… that was a natural reaction." The response even sounded lame to her.

"Not for me." He said quietly.

"Sir, I… anyone would hesitate in that situation. Anyone. You are not superman, Colonel. You're still just a human: an amazing human, a loyal human, but a human none the less."

"All he wanted was forgiveness." He said as his voice cracked a little.

For the first time in her years of service to the Air Force, Janet honestly had no idea what to do for her patient. She looked at his chocolate eyes and did not see the spark that was usually there; instead, she saw remorse and guilt, as his years of assassinations and black ops sins flooded back to him. She saw hollowness. For the first time since meeting Jack O'Neill, she saw defeat.

"Colonel, it's going to be ok." She said with the utmost confidence. Despite the way she knew he felt now, she also knew that the statement was true. There was always a solution to these things, and Janet Frasier would find this solution if it killed her.

At the sound of her words and the look of determination on her face, Jack could not help but smile a little. He had friends who cared about him here. Friends that would not leave him behind. In that moment, Jack knew he would be alright… it would just take some time.

When Janet left to check on her other patients, Jack sighed. He could never undo what he had done to Cromwell, just like Cromwell could not undo what he had done to Jack. For the first time since Iraq, Jack thought of Cromwell not with bitterness and hatred, but with sympathy and understanding. In that moment, he found it possible to truly forgive the Colonel for leaving him behind. "I forgive you, Frank." He said quietly, "And I hope that you can forgive me, too. I'm sorry."

The lights in the infirmary dimmed and Jack shifted his position slightly to get comfortable. He drifted off to sleep was pleasantly surprised at the lack of nightmares. He had made peace with something, somewhere.

FINISHED.

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