A short one tonight everyone. I'm sorry, I was really tired. Thank you to my reviewers. It's especially nice to receive reviews from those who have followed me and faithfully reviewed as well as new people. I love hearing from all of you!
Reach, grab, pull. That's all he was focusing on. He refused to look up, to see how far he'd gotten. All he knew was that he had to keep going, he had to reach the top, his team needed him.
The agony was indescribable – so bad that the only way he could continue was to tuck it into a part of his mind that he closed off to everything else. Reach, grab, pull - reach, grab, pull. He developed a rhythm that kept him focused and kept him moving.
After a while the rhythm became almost hypnotic and the pain seemed to subside a bit. His mind then began to wander, moving from one scene to the next. He started thinking about his time in the Gulf when his parachute hadn't opened. Similar, but hot, not cold.
"Wonder which is worse", he thought through the fog that surrounded his brain. "Which do I hate more – freezing my balls off or turning into a dried out husk? Hmmm – right now O'Neill, a desert sounds mighty fine so I'll have to say I'd prefer to be hot." He laughed softly to himself. "Why couldn't you get in trouble in Hawaii or something Jack? No – you always pick the worst places. Got to plan this better next time."
Reach, grab, pull – he was getting closer but he still refused to look at where he was. By now the pain had almost disappeared. It was a great relief but somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this was not a good thing. Pain was your body's way of telling you to get help. No pain meant the body was starting to shut down. Probably dying, he thought – but the fog had gotten thicker and he felt detached. It's not like he wanted to die – just that he really couldn't care one way or the other.
"Hey maybe I'll get to see you Charlie", he muttered. Then the thought came quickly – nah, with his luck God wouldn't let him see his son. He didn't deserve to after what he'd done. That did bring a pang, but not nearly as bad as it usually did.
Reach, grab, ….. uh oh! Whatever he'd grabbed pulled loose from the side of the hill and he began to slip down.
"Aaaargh! Damn. Okay that hurt!" So, there was still pain – probably a good thing. The sudden and quick drop – fortunately only a few inches – brought him back to the present.
"Not good O'Neill – much better not to know what's going on." He gasped to himself. He was getting weaker. He felt dizzy and spots kept swimming in front of his eyes, even when they were closed. It was becoming harder and harder to breath, which made mountain climbing damn difficult.
He stopped and this time looked up. God, he'd only come a short way. The bright moon was illuminating the side of the hill and he saw that he had a long way to go before he reached the top.
"I can't", he cried to himself – or maybe to God. "I can't do it anymore. Enough already. How much more do you want me to do? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He was sobbing, his face buried into the side of the mountain. The pain, trying to do the impossible, to atone was getting too much. His soul was heavy, too heavy.
He lay there quietly, his body shivering with cold and pain, his face wet with blood and with tears. Maybe now was the time to give up. Maybe this was one too many things to ask of him.
He looked up, taking one last look around. This earth was still beautiful, he thought. He still loved it but he couldn't do anymore. Now was the time to say goodbye. Avoiding thinking about his friends, he laid his head down, closed his eyes, and slept, hopefully never to awaken.
"So, you guys are friend of Major O'Neill are ya?" the one called Hall asked as he finished his last bite of turkey dinner.
"It's Colonel O'Neill", answered Carter, "and yes, we're friends."
"Oh, too bad. You're probably feeling real sad now that he's dead."
Sam didn't even blink at Hall when he said this. She didn't look at her teammates either but could tell what they were thinking. They all knew Jack and knew that he was alive and that he'd never give up.
"You are a fool Aaron Hall. You do not know O'Neill." Teal'c answered for them all. Yeah, you go Teal'c, she thought.
"You're callin' me a fool? Look who are the ones tied up here. And you're wrong, I know O'Neill real well. Didn't he ever mention me?"
"No, Jack tends not to talk about meaningless things." You go too Daniel! She was proud of her team.
Hall just laughed. "You all think you're so smart don't you. Well, go ahead and insult me – it won't do you any good." He got up and walked to the window. Pulling the curtains aside he looked out for a moment.
"Looks like it may be starting to cloud over. Snow'll be here before long."
"How long do you think we will be trapped here?", asked Copeland.
"No more than a couple of days. We can use O'Neill's truck to get out. I'm sure it's a four wheel drive if I know him. He always said he wanted to buy one when he got out. He told us he liked to go into the mountains and go fishin. I bet he wishes he hadn't bought that truck now!"
"You're a pig Hall. Jack O'Neill is ten times the man you'll ever be." Daniel couldn't hold on to his temper any longer. He was worried about his friend. If Jack had been okay he would have done something by now.
"Really. You think so do you. He must've never told you about his time in Iraq. Hey, we have some time and you guys are a captive audience", he laughed to himself. Doug grinned as well but the others, including Copeland, all looked disgusted.
"We really don't want to hear anything you have to say. Why don't you just talk to your criminal friends and leave us alone."
"Nah, what would be the fun of that? Hey Copeland, make some coffee. I'll get thirsty telling my little tale of Jackie Boy."
"Come on Aaron – leave them alone. What difference does it make? They don't want to hear it and frankly neither do I."
"Shut up Copeland! Keep your God-damned mouth closed. This isn't your operation any more and I don't have to listen to your sniveling. Just make the coffee."
Bob looked apologetically at the three captives and made his way to the kitchen. Sam knew he wouldn't be any help to them.
"So, back to my story. Let me see? When did I first meet good ole Major – yeah, yeah, I know he's a Colonel but he was major when I knew him. I guess it was the day they brought him to the prison. I'd been there for a coupla weeks – wasn't a bad gig actually. It got me outta the fighting and if you knew how to work it right the guards didn't treat you too bad. That was something O'Neill never learned."
"We do not wish to listen to your lies Aaron Hall. Please desist." Teal'c gave him the Jaffa death glare but unfortunately it lacked sufficient power tonight to do what it intended. Hall was still standing.
"You 'desist' you freak or I'll gag you. Now, to continue from where I was so rudely interrupted – O'Neill was brought in a couple of weeks after me. They brought him in on a stretcher cause he'd been hurt – shot I think. He was unconscious, although that quickly changed", he smirked. "We all watched it from the courtyard where we'd been taken for our 'afternoon stroll'. They threw a bucket of cold water over him and brought him around. He was the most senior officer they'd captured and they wanted information from him."
"They did not know Jack." Daniel had a faint grin on his face. Jack facing his enemies was kinda like the 'irresistible force meeting the immovable object."
"No, they didn't know Jack. But you know what, I think they were glad, in the long run, that he wouldn't talk. Gave them a lot more fun."
The silence in the room could have been cut with a knife. The three teammates didn't even want to contemplate what he was saying. They'd known, from what Frank had said, that Jack was tortured but they'd all avoided thinking about it since they'd been at the cabin.
"Jack ever describe Iraqi torture techniques? No. Too bad. They were quite interesting. He should know better than most. Yeah – I remember him screaming pretty loud. It was very irritating, made it hard to sleep. I bet you thought O'Neill was brave – that he wouldn't make a noise. Stiff upper lip and all that. Sorry to disappoint. He screamed and cried like a baby. We all heard it. Just ask O'Reilly if you don't believe me."
"We wouldn't care. Bravery has nothing to do with being silent when you're tortured. That's just something out of Hollywood." Sam spoke calmly although inside her gut was churning. She knew what she said was true but still, the thought of the Colonel being in that much pain was horrific.
"Why, aren't you the little supportive woman. You screwing the Colonel? You look like his type."
"Screw yourself Hall!" she answered calmly
"Not nearly as much fun Captain. Maybe you'd like to join me."
"Enough Aaron. Leave her alone."
Hall laughed again and decided to get on with his story – although the woman did hold some possibilities.
"So the Iraqis tortured Jacko for a few days. I think their favorite was the electric wires – or maybe it was the whips."
"Stop it! For God sakes, what is wrong with you? Just shut the hell up." Copeland was standing up, looking wild.
Hall stood up and faced him. "Don't you tell me to shut up."
"Why not? Are you going to kill me too? Then you won't get your money will you? Just shut up. None of us want to listen to your lies." He sat back down, looking exhausted at his outburst.
Hall stood staring at him for a moment longer. He so wanted to kill this man but he was right – first he wanted his money, then he'd kill him. He turned back and looked at the three people tied to their chairs. He still wanted to have some fun.
"Good old Bob doesn't want to hear about prison life. Well then, let me just tell you this. Jack O'Neill screwed with me in prison but I got him back good. I made sure the guards screwed with him plenty. It wasn't enough though. He got out and was honored as a bloody hero – I was dishonorably discharged and got squat. I had the last laugh though. When I pushed him over the edge of that hill I watched him bounce all the way down. If he's not dead he's wishing he was."
"You know, I've often felt the Air Force does a number of stupid things", Daniel looked up at the man speaking, "but in this case I think they got it just right. Jack is a hero – and you – well a dishonorable discharge wasn't nearly enough."
"On Chulak they would have emasculated him for betraying a comrade." Teal'c added.
"Chulak's sounding pretty good about now Murray." Sam spoke up.
"Yes, Captain. I think you would like some of the other things they do to people such as this one."
"Yeah – I bet I would."
"SHUT UP!" Hall screamed. Beiman was laughing, enjoying the show. He loved to see Hall get his own back – as long as he wasn't involved. "You think this is funny? Maybe I should take you all out and look at O'Neill's body, then you wouldn't be laughing. How about you sweetheart, wanna come and take a look? Then we'll see if you laugh at me."
He walked over to Sam and started to untie her bonds. Maybe this would be the chance she needed. She just wished it had been Teal'c she'd chosen however. He'd have a better chance.
Once she was untied he grabbed her arm and lifted her from the chair. Her arms and hands throbbed as the circulation returned. Right now she couldn't have done anything with them anyway.
"Come on – let's go see." He started dragging her to the door.
"Aren't ya gonna let her put her coat and boots on?" Beiman asked.
That stopped him. What was he thinking? They'd made him so mad with their taunting that he'd almost done something stupid. Turning around he pushed Sam into the big chair.
"You sit there and don't move. I don't want to hear anything from any of you. Beiman, you watch em. I'm gonna go get some shut eye for a while. Call me if anything comes up."
"Okay but don't be gone too long. I'm tired too and want to get some sleep."
"Hey, I drove so deal with it." Turning he walked into what had been Jack's room and closed the door behind him.
"So, it's just us now I guess." Beiman smiled at the three prisoners. Unlike Hall he was able to maintain his temper, rarely allowing himself to get angry. Most people thought he was a pretty nice guy, quiet, friendly. What they didn't know was that underneath that placid exterior was the heart of a socio-path.
Copeland looked over and wondered how he could have been so mistaken about anyone as he had been about Beiman. He had worked with the man for 4 years and had always liked him. Although they hadn't socialized outside of work they'd often chatted at lunchtime or when on breaks. When things had first started happening Copeland had needed to talk to someone and he had chosen Beiman. It was the worst – or maybe the second worst – decision of his life.
"So big guy, what's with the tattoo thing on your head. Were you part of a gang or something."
"Yes he was. A really, really bad gang. They killed lots of people – still are." Daniel hoped to frighten 'Doug'.
"Really? Cool. Did you kill anyone?"
"Many."
"Wow. Good for you. Is that why you got the tattoo?"
"I was given this to show that I was in service to my - to the 'gang leader'."
"What was the gang? Anyone I know?"
"It was Apophis."
"The apoffis gang? Never heard of it but they sure do a cool tattoo. So, how come you left it?"
"O'Neill saved me and showed me the way to freedom."
"Really? He must be one of those crusader types. I bet he was a good guy. Too bad we had to kill him." He grinned. The others realized, with this, that Beiman was probably the more frightening of the two men. They sat quietly although Sam looked for an opportunity to do something. Unfortunately, she was too far away from him to do anything effective.
Beiman sat back in his chair and just looked off into space. None of them were fooled that he wasn't totally aware of what was going on.
"Do you think the Colonel is okay Sam?", Daniel asked very quietly.
"No, I expect he's hurt otherwise he'd have been here before now. But I know he's alive and he's coming. I know he would never leave us."
"Yeah, you're right. What was I thinking – it's Jack O'Neill – he never gives up."
The man who never gave up had given up - or almost had. There was still a spark inside him, one teeny, tiny spark of 'Jack O'Neillness' that refused to just lie there and die.
"Damn, damn, damn - can't even die in peace", he gasped out to himself. As much as he wanted to just rest he knew he couldn't'. It went against his very nature.
Okay flyboy – reach, grasp, pull. He started again up the hill.
The one good – or maybe bad – he couldn't tell anymore – thing was that he had started to feel his legs again. Okay, they were still numb and pretty useless as far as helping him move but at least he wasn't totally paralyzed. He figured it must have been some kind of 'shock' from the fall, or maybe he'd moved something back in place through his crawling. Whatever it was it gave him a small feeling of relief. Of course, the bad news was that now they hurt like hell along with everything else.
He was afraid to try and catalogue his wounds but decided he'd better figure out what exactly was wrong with him before reaching the top. Anyway, it gave him something to do to pass the time.
"Okay, your life is really pathetic Jack when all you have to do for amusement is count the number of wounds you've accumulated.
"Reach, grab, pull – broken ribs – at least three, more bruised and maybe cracked.
"Reach, grab, pull – internal injuries – punctured lung
"Reach, grab, pull – more internal injuries – maybe kidney – hopefully not liver.
"Reach, grab, pull – one helluva lot of bruises – on top of bruises.
"Reach, grab, pull – cuts, scrapes – arms, face, legs – definitely hands (crap, they hurt every time he pulled himself forward)
"Reach, grab pull – something wrong with back, hips and/or legs – cracked spine? Dislocated vertebrae, broken pelvis?
"Reach, grab, pull – concussion – hopefully not cracked skull
"Reach, grab, pull – beginnings of frostbite and hypothermia
"Reach, grab, pull – probably lots more but I don't want to know.
"Reach, grab, pull – and I stink!
Although the catalogue was large and very depressing, it had kept his mind occupied for a while. When he looked up this time he was heartened to see he'd made a fair bit of progress.
He had to stop however, and catch his breath – as difficult as that was. He was extremely worried that his lung – or lungs – would collapse before he made it and he'd die of suffocation. As it was, he knew he wasn't getting enough oxygen into his system. He was starting to feel slightly punchy.
He started again, knowing that to rest too long was to rest forever. His team was counting on him. How, he didn't know, but somehow he could feel them urging him on. If it hadn't been for that he would probably still be at the bottom of the hill, dying.
By the time he made it to the top he was sobbing in short, gasping breaths.
"Oh God, oh God", he repeated to himself. He didn't know if he could keep going. The pain was so bad. Someone, help me please! He slowly turned his head but there was nothing – only the light from the cabin ahead.
Incoming clouds were slowly covering the moon. That was probably a good thing, he decided. If anyone looked out now he'd be a clear target against the white snow.
Maybe if he just rested for a minute? He was so sleepy and was starting to feel warmer. The freezing cold of a few minutes ago was making way for a tingly warmth that was spreading its way through his body. Somebody up there must have heard him and was helping him. He closed his eyes and rested his body against the warm, soft snow.
"Daddy. Come on Daddy, wake up. It's time to get up." He heard Charlie's voice as if through a haze. He must have been up late last night, he thought. Was it Saturday? Had he promised to go somewhere with Charlie? He was having trouble waking up but his son's voice kept calling to him.
"Okay Charlie", he whispered, "I'm coming. I'll be there in a minute. Just let me sleep a little."
"No Dad. You have to wake up now. Come on."
"Why? Don't ya love me Charlie? Can't you let me sleep in? I musta been up late."
"Yes, I love you Dad. That's why I can't let you sleep. You have to get up NOW!"
He growned and slowly opened his eyes. Expecting to see his bedroom he was started to see nothing but white if front of him. Trying to shake his head he felt a shooting pain and felt the dampness under his cheek.
"Wha' th – hell!" he muttered. Again he tried to move, managing to lift his head. What he saw – the moonlight, the cottage, all brought it back to him. He was dying, in the cold and his team had been captured.
"Charlie!" he called. It had only been a dream. A wave of despair crossed over him. It wasn't real. He let his face fall back onto the snowy ground.
"Dad – I'm real. I love you but you have to stay awake."
He looked up quickly but everything was the same – except it wasn't. This time he'd not only heard his son, he'd felt his presence. Even better, he'd felt his son's love. He sobbed again, softly, but this time, not in despair but in relief. Charlie still loved him – he hadn't lost that. Maybe one day he'd also be forgiven.
With a surge of hope, and a will to go on, Jack began to pull himself forward.
