A Slow Melding - Part 7
There was noise and turmoil, and he knew he had to go because it was his one opportunity, but for a brief second he hesitated to flee. Perhaps he should find some way to finally end it here, given the chance – regain some control over his life at least at the end of it. If he did run he was going to have to face what had happened, what he had become. There were no needle tracks or shards of broken glass within his veins, but they might have well have been there. Greed and hunger warred inside him and he stopped in his tracks, peering around the open door of his cell. Maybe it wasn't too late. Could he do this?
Should he?
A breath of wind pushed at him, making him take that first step – back to freedom and another form of imprisonment as soul destroying as that he left behind.
Slight movement was enough to warn him of a Jaffa's approach and he pounced, decision taken from him by the urgent demand for revenge. One of those things was growing inside him, just waiting to grab someone's life and crush it underfoot. All the years of training deserted him and with no finesse, his fists smashed into his enemy until the Jaffa lay silent upon the cold stone floor. Pausing he began to reach down, to pull the snakelet from its nest and squeeze the juices out of it until it died, but he stopped his actions before they had even begun. There was no time. And so he ran, interrupting his flight only to tug the lone human who shared his captivity along after him.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Nothing worked. Nothing was - right. Not one single thing. Behind the obvious, hiding within the shaking and the sweats and the constant nausea, something else hid. Something that lurked ready – waiting for him to acknowledge it.
It was feeding on him, taking from his flesh, from his bones, from his blood and marrow, and asking that it be refilled so it might feed again.
And he wanted to. He wanted to help it feed. He ached for it. Prayed for it.
Begged for it.
All he was, was need.
This was what he had dreaded.
People came and went, wiping him down, talking to him with soft, quiet words he could easily ignore. They knew what he needed. They could give it to him so effortlessly, but they refused.
After a time he stopped asking.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
It was cliched, but he really had no idea at all how long he'd been in the infirmary. It might have been days or weeks, or even months, but one thing he did know was he wasn't getting out any time soon. Fraiser had that determined look on her face, clearly showing it was pointless arguing. And truth be told, he didn't want to.
He was tired and he hurt all over.
So he lay, thinking how he came to this sorry state and wishing he could regain enough of himself to tell everyone to just get the hell out of his face and leave him alone.
Slowly, lit by the memories of torture and degradation, a spark flared deep inside him. It was fed with the sound of the Goa'uld's gloating and his own cries until it became intertwined so much he couldn't tell where the memories ended and the angry present began. But the memories were incomplete – huge holes gaping as deeply as the shaft he had fallen into when the web released him, and his mind circled around, searching to fill the gaps.
There was one overriding memory.
The bastard had taken him, used him, and then discarded him like a piece of worthless trash. Not Ba'al – Kanan. All the talk of coming to understand each other had been just so much bullshit. Kanan had only thought of himself, of getting what he wanted. Love – ha – it wasn't love he'd felt for Shallan – it was nothing but pure, unadulterated lust. How could a parasite be capable of such a human emotion as love? They just took the humanity from their hosts and twisted it to suit their own egotistical purposes. Jack laughed, hearing the slightly maniacal timbre in his own voice. Yes, Kanan wanted to get his rocks off with Shallan and he'd used Jack to do it. He had merely been a means to an end – a convenient dupe.
Twisting on the narrow infirmary bed, Jack held back the words he so wanted to shout. Just once more, just once – the SGC could get a sarcophagus from somewhere if they tried hard enough. Once was all it would take, and then he would beat this and be out of here and home where he could… What? What would he do? Find something else to substitute for the sarcophagus? Alcohol or perhaps even worse? No, it was best he stay right where he was. He could ride it out.
He'd done it before – done that whole strapped to the bed thing.
And old betrayal from years ago filled his mind with anger again. Faces he'd hoped to forget forever swirled past, overlaid with new ones.
Betrayal.
Kanan.
Freya.
She was the one he had done it for.
He drew his knees up, pressing them into his stomach as he lay on his side, the sheets wrapping his legs like a shroud.
They were all the same. Goa'uld. Tok'ra. Just snakes no matter what the name. Just fucking snakes!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
A dull click told Jack the door of his small private room had opened, but he didn't bother looking beyond the images flashing across his vision to see who entered. Knives and blood and a terrible sense of helplessness had far too much of his attention to give even a tiny scrap to the nurse or doctor come to tend to his most basic functions. He knew a line of saliva ran down from the corner of his mouth but he hadn't tried to wipe it away, the slight pull on his skin another trigger for the hallucinations that inhabited almost every moment both waking and sleeping. Whoever it was could deal with it as well as the other far more repulsive signs of what he now suffered.
"Jack." Footsteps approached, slow at first, then rapid, as if running to get to him. "We were so afraid. I thought you were lost forever, but then the news came and I needed to see for myself that you were safe."
He ignored the words. The voice was part of his nightmares, a cornerstone on which the most terrible memories of betrayal were built. He had never expected, nor wanted, to ever hear it again, except during his worst delusions.
"Jack?"
With a savage movement born of fury he looked at her. She was standing beside the bed, her pale face fittingly inhuman in the subdued light of the SGC night. Reaching out a hand, she took one of his and held it in a grip he was too weak to break.
He did what he could. "Get away from me, you bitch!" Spit hit her chest, staining the grey tunic.
Flinching back, she took her hand from his. "Please … I …"
Whatever she wanted to say, he didn't want to hear. Shaking his head from side to side in an effort to summon up the words he needed, he let every moment of helplessness he had lived and relived since his kidnapping by Kanan burn through them. "Don't ask me for anything. You've taken enough already."
She appeared stunned, giving him a confused look as if she didn't understand. Not fooled for a moment, he continued, "What? Didn't you get enough data from your experiments? 'Subject appeared both physically and emotionally distressed.' Was that what this is all about? Human emotions? See how far one of we weak Tau'ri could be pushed before we cracked? Or was it just a game you were playing for some sick purpose all your own?" He muttered, not caring whether she heard or not, "I let down my guard because of you – because I trusted you. I thought you were different, but you're worse than the Goa'uld. At least they don't pretend to be anything other than what they are."
The snake made tears appear in her host's eyes. The drops slowly moving down her cheeks caused flashes of acid and agony. Jack embraced the moment, wishing for another death, hoping this rescue was an illusion and that he would die enough to be put into a sarcophagus so the void he felt inside could fill with power and completeness.
The quiet sobs were a distraction. The host was hunched over, clutching her arms around herself, the very picture of grief. It was amazing how easily appearances could deceive, Jack thought. She seemed so human, standing there, but she was so much more – a parasite hidden within controlling her every move, her every thought.
He closed his eyes, opening them again almost immediately, so he could watch her. Nothing was real. There was no truth, no honesty, no caring.
No love.
It was all an illusion – an evil trick.
"What Kanan did was unforgivable …" The snake's echoing tones punched a rift through him and the last remnant of her humanity ran out. Jack could see the stain turning her tears into rivers of blackness that reached out to bait him and suck him in.
This time he wasn't going to be trapped.
Fury incandescent inside him, Jack lifted his head, pulling at the restraints that bound his limbs to the bed.
"Go away! I don't want to ever see you again." Just the thought of what they had shared made his skin crawl, the memory of her flesh touching his making him swallow to hold back the bile. He struggled fiercely, trying to get to her, to hit her and break her just as he had been broken. But he couldn't, even now, despite what had happened, he couldn't do that to her. So he slumped back, his words no longer shouted. Instead they were desperately urgent. "Fuck off. The sight of you makes me sick."
He was already retching as she fled the room.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
TBC