AN: Okay gang, we are heading back into the debrief hearing. Jack is being…. well, Jack. So, warnings for language and implied situations.
In reading past chapters to ensure some continuity, I have spotted errors and typos. Those are all mine - apologies about them. I'll get them fixed one of these days.
***SG1***SG1***
Sliding into the chair he had spent the better part of two days sitting, Jack nodded in greeting to the other two men in the room. He didn't envy them their positions. But then again, he didn't exactly feel sorry for them either. In fact, right now, he just wanted it over.
"Jack," Albert Nelson said, returning the nod. Glancing toward his counterpart, he silently asked him if he was ready. Seeing his agreement, he started the recording.
"Let's start back when they took Major Carter. What happened after that?"
"Usual," Jack breathed out loudly, a hand gesture accompanying it. "I said something about their mothers, they slammed a gun into the back of my head and kicked the shit out my ribs and kidneys." The statement caused several eyebrows to raise. "What? You expected something else?"
Reading the slightly defiant, slightly angry mask of brittle indifference on O'Neill's face, a shared look confirmed to each other that it was going to be a long morning. Clearing his throat, Tom French tried again. "How long before you realized that Major Carter had not been taken to the same place as Major Hitch?"
Sighing, Jack traced the grain in the table. "Not sure," he grunted. "Took a little nap when they hit me," a hand raised toward the back of his neck. "They were hauling Carter out, next thing I know, they're kicking me." Silence fell for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Must of got tired cause they pulled me up and shoved that damn needle in my neck before pushing me out the door. We went down a couple hallways and stopped in front of a door. One of them wrapped his arm around my throat and jabbed the gun in my kidney while another one undid my hands. Before I knew it, they'd shoved me in the room and locked the door."
French glanced at Nelson at the tight, pained expression on O'Neill's face.
"Carter was screaming." The hushed voice echoed loudly. "She was... He was...," Jack shook his head, gesturing vaguely. "The others saw me and started mouthing off." His fingers curled into the palms of his hands. "I had to get to Carter." He tried to focus on the feeling of his nails cutting into his palms to escape the echoes in his head. Taunts, bones breaking and flesh hitting flesh intermingled with Sam's screams, pleas and cries created a never ending horrific symphony of sounds in his mind.
"Colonel O'Neill?"
The call snapped O'Neill's head up and made him realize he had zoned out. Shifting, he nodded to indicate he was back with them.
"You killed the men," Nelson said, careful to leave all judgement from his voice.
"Yes," Jack breathed, looking down at this hands and rubbing absentmindedly at the indentions in his palm. "After," another gesture, "I figured out how to get Carter loose. She fought me, wasn't sure what was going to happen." Dropping his hand, he added, "I pulled some clothes off the other guys for her while she tried to clean up as much as she could." Wincing, he added, "She was out of it, bleeding."
Nodding French shifted his paper. "She told us," he reminded him. "You promised her something."
Frowning, Jack settled his face into stone as bile pulled at his throat. "She wanted me to kill her. Said that she couldn't go through that again. I told her that we'd get out of there, alive."
"You told her you'd stop anyone from raping her again." A jerky nod confirmed the statement. "There was only one way to guarantee that."
The harsh truth of the words hung in the air. Kill them or her.
Feeling his teeth grind together, Jack worked to ease the pressure in his jaw. Breathing out through his nose, he raised an expectant eye toward Nelson and waited.
***SG1***SG1***
Pushing the tray along the lunch line, Daniel randomly picked up some fruit for Sam to eat. Absently, he noted that the room was fairly empty due the lateness of the hour. Sam had seemed especially high strung this morning when he had arrived a little after seven and he had waited until Teal'c had come in after eight before he left to get her something to eat. Her uneasiness fed into the churning in his own gut. He had felt unsettled since waking up and it had not gotten any better when he found that Jack had already left the infirmary by the time he had gotten there.
Frowning at the selection, he finally decided on some bran flakes. Setting the bowl on the tray, he picked it up and moved it to the counter with the beverages. Putting a glass of orange juice on the tray, he reached for a travel cup. Flipping the lever, he frowned when nothing came from the pot. Shifting to the other one, he bit back an explicative when nothing more than a trickle came from that one. Turning to catch someone's attention to bring more coffee, his hip jostled the tray, sending the orange juice into the rest of the food. Biting back a curse, he felt a wave of anger pass through him. The feeling intensified when the tray slipped from one hand, clattering back to the metal slide bars. Snapping out a curse, he sent the tray flying down the rails. The sound of clattering dishes brought all other sounds in the room to a halt.
Daniel closed his eyes against the sudden tears in his eyes and let his head fall to his chest. Grief was a bitch that sometimes hit you when you least expected it.
"Doctor Jackson."
Daniel nodded to General Hammond's soft greeting.
"Come on, son. Let's go for a walk," the General said, gesturing for someone to come clean up the mess while gently taking the younger man's arm.
Escorting him to his lab, Hammond waited while Daniel slumped onto the desk chair and rubbed his hands over his face. "General, I'm..." Daniel stopped when Hammond waived him off.
"I've been waiting for it to hit you," he explained, easing his frame onto a stool at the high center counter. "You've been so busy trying to take care of everybody else, you haven't let yourself deal with anything."
"I just feel so useless," Daniel breathed, his brow creasing. "You know?" he asked glancing toward the older man before diverting his attention away from him.
"Oh yeah," Hammond chuckled. "Probably more than you ever dreamed." A curious glance made him continue. "Son, every time a team leaves through that gate to face god knows what on the other side, I feel useless." Seeing the objection on Daniel's face, he held up a hand to stop him. "But then I have to remember that being here, keeping the home fire burning so to speak, is just as important, just in a different way."
"We rely on that," Daniel said quietly, settling his glasses on his face. "When we're out there, facing god knows what," he said dryly, pulling a smile from the older man at the use of his own words. "It helps to know that when it all goes to hell, there's somebody back here rooting for us; that won't give up until we're back."
Cocking his head, George let Daniel's words echo away. Smiling he watched as the meaning of them hit the speaker.
Daniel dropped his head for a moment before looking up. "And we teach what we most need to learn," he murmured, feeling tendrils of emotional calm seep into him.
Chuckling, Hammond gained his feet. "Sometimes it helps to remind ourselves." Moving to the doorway, he said, "Along with chucking a dish or two occasionally." Looking fondly at the younger man, he added, "Take some time here." He gestured to the room. "Get settled. I'll have someone take Major Carter some breakfast."
***SG1***SG1***
"Come on," Jack snarled, his hand slapping the table. "What the hell did you expect me to do? Say hey, come on over, have a seat, let's chat? The bastard was too fucking close and she was freaking out."
"You said he was trying to move the bodies."
"Yeah, well, saved him some work," Jack snipped, averting his eyes.
Pinning O'Neill with his gaze, French narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell didn't they just shoot you and be done it?"
Feeling the anger drain from him at the sudden question, Jack shook his head slowly. "Damned if I know," he said softly, haunted eyes raised to meet those of the Pentagon officer.
The quiet confession calmed the tension. Shifting, Nelson looked at the pen in his hand. "You wanted them to."
"Yes. No," Jack stuttered, countering himself immediately. Running his hands over his face, he dropped them. "I don't know what I wanted. All I knew is that I had to get Carter the hell out of there, find SG10 and get all of us home."
"You where there two days?"
"I guess," Jack breathed. "It's a little fuzzy. They... uh... brought us some food and water, but other than that, left us alone. Fraiser thinks it was spiked with whatever it was they injected us with."
"So how'd you get out?" Nelson asked, scanning the report in front of him.
Shifting, Jack placed his hands flat on the table. "One of the guards, young guy," a frown passed over Jack's face, "left me an opening when he brought the food." Shrugging, he added, "I took it."
"What about Major Carter?" Colonel French asked, scanning for any notation of her in the report. "I don't see what she was doing." The stillness of Jack's body told him he had hit a nerve.
"What I told her," Jack said flatly.
"Which was?" French pressed. The tick of Jack's jaw caused him to run the scenario through his head. After a moment, he said, "You used her as a decoy. To draw the guards attention away from you." A wince told him that he had deduced it correctly. "I see," he said, making a notation.
"And she was okay with this, given everything that had happened?" Nelson asked, skepticism tinging his words. Watching as Jack averted his face while searching for how to respond, he frowned.
"Major Carter is one of if not the best officer I have ever served with," Jack finally stated, his voice firm, his eyes locking with the Colonel.
"Still, that was asking a lot of her," Nelson countered, pushing.
Squaring, Jack's eyes narrowed. "And your point?"
***SG1***SG1***
Coming up behind the woman reading a chart at the nurse's desk, Major Paul Davis cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Doctor Rogers? TIffany Rogers?"
Turning, the chestnut haired woman glanced briefly at the two SF standing behind the officer who had spoken her name before settling on him. "Something I can do for you," running over over his nameplate, "Major Davis?"
"The Chief of Staff would like to speak with you ma'am."
Somehow she knew he was not speaking of the hospital chief of staff. "May I ask why?" she said, her shoulders straightening.
"If you would just come with me, ma'am," Paul urged, gesturing for her to proceed him.
"I'm afraid I will need a few minutes. My patients..."
"That has already been taken care of Doctor," Major Davis assured her.
Eyeing the men, Tiffany pursed her lips. "Am I under arrest?"
"No, ma'am," Davis replied. "But I really must insist," he pressed. Seeing her hesitancy, he added, his voice low but urgent. "Doctor, it is a matter of national security. Please," he said again, stepping aside for her to move.
Reading the sincere expression on the younger man's face, Rogers ceded. "After you," she said.
***SG1***SG1***
AN2: As I cannot respond individually to guest reviews, let me just send a special thank you to each of you who have taken the time to acknowledge this story and to send me your thoughts. I appreciate you taking the time.
