Chapter 2 - The Shock of the Truth

"What did you say?" Sam asked tonelessly. Fraiser felt like a police officer. As though she'd just told her friend that her father or her husband had died. The blank look of disbelief on Sam's face was indescribable. Janet swallowed hard. It was hard enough to say once, let alone twice.

"I think Colonel O'Neill is suffering from PTSD," she repeated, choosing different words. Sam nearly fainted, but not entirely from shock. From disbelief more than anything else. How could her CO, a man of such a strong mind, have a nervous breakdown? How could something like that happen? To him, of all people! No - that had to be wrong. There was no way it could be true. No way.

"I don't believe you," Sam said flatly. "You're wrong."

"Yes," Fraiser agreed readily, "I may very well be. I'm not a psychologist. I could be absolutely wrong. I'm not saying I know, but he's showing the perfect signs of early PTSD. He's very cut-off and withdrawn. He's not said more than two words since being back, but that doesn't really mean anything just yet. The signs could be a result of something else. They're also signs of trauma and shock. The blank stare and the withdrawal, seclusion. Text book symptoms of shock."

"You see," Sam pointed at the doctor, as though she was guilty of a crime or had sprouted a second head, "you're wrong. He's.no. Nothing like that has happened. You're wrong."

"Ok, Sam," Janet tried to calm her friend. Sam was working herself up about something Janet wasn't even certain about. She probably was wrong. She hoped she was. "It's all right. I was just surmising. I probably am wrong. Like I said, this is isn't my area of expertise. Dr. Mackenzie would be a better person to talk to. He knows what he's talking about."

"Then get him in here. Get him to look at the Colonel and see if you're right. Get Mackenzie here."

"It's a little more difficult than that actually, Sam. Dr. Mackenzie is away in Washington at the moment, at a conference."

"Well then get him back here. This is more important. He needs to be here. Get him back here, Janet."

"Calm down Sam, please," Fraiser begged. "I know that this is a hard thing to understand; I'm finding it hard as well, but you need to stay together. Colonel O'Neill doesn't need everyone around him to go insane with worry. He needs everyone to stay calm and help him recover. That includes you, Sam. Ok?"

Sam nodded, controlling her urgency. "Yes," she replied, nodding. "Ok. I'm sorry for going overboard. I didn't mean to."

"It's all right. I understand."

"Can you do anything to see if you're right? To see if he has had a.to see if you're right?"

"It will all really depend on what happens when Colonel O'Neill wakes up. Now I'm really not sure when that will happen, but when he does I'll do all the regular tests to make sure he's ok physically. Let's focus on that for now. Once he's awake and coherent and we know how close to the truth my little theory is, I'll have Dr. Mackenzie back here within a day. He'll be able to flick all the psychological buttons and switches and tell us what's going on. Then we'll know."

Sam nodded again. That was all she could do. She wasn't comfortable with having to wait so long for a verdict, lacking a better word in her mind, but she knew it wasn't that long. It would have to do. "Ok," she said, and then went to see her Colonel.

Jack's face was bruised, his eyes still swollen. The horrible dark contusions marked around his face like a messy Morse code made him barely recognizable. The murky shades of purple and blue, smudged together, made him look like an artists canvas gone wrong. The bandages seemed to glow in their cleanliness - the sheets a close second. The bloodstains were gone now, but Sam remembered where they'd been. The Major sunk into a plastic chair beside the lifeless body of her Colonel and wondered how long he'd be that way. Motionless. Inert. Non-responsive, and a million other words that meant the same thing. Dr. Fraiser had done everything she could, as always, and failed to disappoint. She always worked miracles. At least Sam thought so. Hoped so. Carter sat up in her chair and took a long moment to look at her CO. To tell him everything would be ok, with her eyes. Something told her it wouldn't matter - that it wouldn't do anything - but she tried. It may not do any good, Sam thought, but it can't do any harm.

@

The next day came too fast for Jack. His body decided to wake up before he was ready to, and he felt angry about it, although he couldn't quite understand where the anger came from. Almost instantaneous with his eyes opening, Dr. Fraiser was by his side, firing questions at him like burning bullets. Bullets he couldn't dodge. Did he feel ok? Was there any pain? Did he need painkillers? Could he hear her? Did he understand her? Could he respond? Could you go away! He wanted to scream. Leave me alone! I don't want to talk to anyone. Go away!

//'Spend all your time waiting

For that second chance

For a break that would make it okay'//

"Colonel?" I'm not going to answer. Go away! Just leave me alone! I don't want to answer any questions. I've got nothing to say. Go away.

"It's Dr. Fraiser, Colonel. Can you answer me?" No, I can't, so go away. Stop talking to me. I'm not answering anything. I'm not going to say anything.

//'There's always some reason
To feel not good enough

And it's hard at the end of the day'//

"All right, Sir. Maybe you just don't want to talk now, huh?" Fraiser smiled gently, trying to be calm and friendly. "That's ok, maybe later." No, not later. Not at all. Go away. I don't have anything to say. Go away! Shut up!

//'I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins'//

"Well, Sam was here before, so I'm sure she'll be back in a minute. Maybe you can talk to her?" Dr. Fraiser continued to try to coax words out of the silent Colonel, but he remained oblivious to her efforts. NO! SHUT UP! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!

//'Let me be empty
Oh and weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight'//

"Oh look, here she is now," Janet smiled at Sam as she approached.

"Colonel," Carter breathed happily, "we were so worried, Sir. I'm so glad you're ok."

Yeah, Jack thought bitterly, I'm 'ok'. So go away and leave me alone. I don't want to talk to any of you. "Colonel?" Sam pursued, turning her eyes to the doctor.

Janet indicated with her head that she and Sam go away from the Colonel and have a talk.

"Why isn't he saying anything, Janet?" Sam asked immediately, when she closed the door to her friend's office.

"It's another sign of PTSD," Fraiser replied.

"What is that? I've heard that before but I can't remember what it stands for."

"PTSD is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's usually caused by a traumatic event, like torture or near loss of life. That's why I think Colonel O'Neill is suffering from it. He's showing perfect signs."

"But I thought that sort of thing took a while to set in. I thought it wasn't sudden."

"Yes, you're right. Usually it isn't. Usually there would be some signs of it beforehand, but because he's been in the traumatic environment before now, I think the signs may have been noticeable there. Now he's here, his mental strength has given in and allowed him to succumb to it."

"That doesn't sound much like Colonel O'Neill," Sam stated the obvious.

Fraiser nodded. "That's the thing with PTSD," she said, "it usually strikes people who are thought of as less susceptible to that sort of thing. Often, soldiers who've fought in wars are victims, because of the things they've seen. Their mind eventually breaks."

"It still doesn't sound like Colonel O'Neill to me."

"No, it doesn't. I think some pretty awful things happened to him in the last four months."

"So we talk to him about it. Ask him to talk about it, get it off his chest. That'll help, right?" Sam asked hopefully.

Janet's expression was slightly less positive. "Another thing - usually someone who is suffering PTSD will not talk about their experiences. War veterans are perfect examples again. Very few of them are willing to talk about what they saw. What they went through. If I'm right, and Colonel O'Neill did have some horrible times during the last four months, it's not likely he will talk about it. In fact, it's more likely he'll completely avoid anything at all that reminds him of it, as a defence mechanism."

"Are you saying he's going to ignore me, because I was there with him?" Sam asked, tentative and uneasy about the response. What if he would never speak to her again because she reminded him of being on P4C 237?

"I don't know about that," Fraiser answered earnestly. "He may go for a complete defence against the planet itself, or just the 'bad' parts. I really don't know that though. That's up to him."

"But it'll probably happen that way, won't it?"

"Personally, I don't believe it will. But, once again, I have no authority over what Colonel O'Neill is going to do. I can't predict anything like that."

Sam nodded. There was so much to take in, it made her head hurt. The beating of her heart throbbed endlessly inside her head, pounding like a drum. "Should I leave him for today?" she asked eventually.

"It mightn't be a bad idea," Fraiser replied, being honest with her friend. "I don't think you should take it personally though, Sam. I don't really think anyone should crowd him just yet. Time may be crucial, or indifferent, but I think we need to consider it."

"It's ok," Sam said. "I understand it must be hard. I might come back tomorrow."

"Good idea," Janet agreed. "And maybe let Daniel and Teal'c know that too?"

"Sure."

Sam smiled and left, giving her CO a brief survey with her eyes on her way out of the Infirmary. Something horrible must have happened to make him this way, Sam thought. Something really horrible.

//'In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the angels
May you find some comfort here'//

@

The next few days were uneventful. Dr. Fraiser tried her best to rouse some form of awareness from the ever- silent Colonel, but quickly found herself getting nowhere.

"General, Dr. Mackenzie is the expert," Janet pleaded on the third day. "He really needs to be here."

"I understand that, doctor," Hammond responded, "but he is away on an important conference."

"I know that, Sir, but this really is - "

"It will be finished in a day or so, doctor," the General interrupted. "You will have to wait."

"Yes, Sir," Fraiser conceded almost sulkily and left his office. It was going to be a long 'day or so'; that was for sure.

"Doctor," Daniel called out as he caught a glimpse of Fraiser passing him by in the hallway.

"Dr. Jackson," Janet acknowledged. "What can I do for you?"

"How's Jack doing? I haven't been in there. Sam told me what you said though." "His condition hasn't changed, I'm afraid."

"Do you think it would be all right if I went in today and tried to talk to him?" The whole idea that his friend was suffering from something like a nervous breakdown was really getting to the archaeologist.

"I suppose you can try," the doctor thought aloud, "but do remember that he's rather fragile. Don't push too hard. I understand it's frustrating, believe me, I've been trying to make him talk for three days, but forcing him won't make matters any better. Don't get yourself into a bad temper either, that won't help."

"Ok, thanks," Daniel smiled and set off for the Infirmary. It wasn't going to be easy, he knew, but he had to try. His friend had always been there to help him; it was hardly fair that he not return the same concern. Daniel wasn't doing it for that reason alone, though. Jack O'Neill was suffering from something Daniel knew he couldn't understand, but just because Jack had always been there in the past, didn't mean Jackson felt obligated to do the same. He was worried. Everyone was.

In the Infirmary, in his silent reverie, Jack tried to find peace. Comfort. He could close his eyes to shut out the people around him, but he couldn't do it without being bombarded with horrifying memories of P4C 237. They flashed by him, like angry photos being snapped in front of his eyes. Endless, repetitious images. Painful in their innocence. They were just images, right? Pictures. Scenes. Reminders. But they were reminders of everything. Everything no one else got to see when he was in that little room. Everything he wanted to forget. Everything no one else could feel. Understand. No one could. No one ever would. Jack wasn't so sure he did. He was sure he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't ever want to see or do anything that remotely reminded him of P4C 237. Never. It all hurt so bad. The ache sunk deep, pinched at his heart. Stuck a skewer through his brain. None of it would ever go away. Ever.

//'So tired of the straight line

And everywhere you turn

There's vultures and thieves at your back'//

Every little thing seemed to remind him of something. Some of the things were so small it was incredible, but they still hurt. Still made a memory of something else photograph itself back into Jack's head. Why was it all so close? So real? Why did it all keep coming back? What had all that military training been for, if something like this could still happen? Why hadn't he been prepared?

//'And the storm keeps on twisting

You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack'//

Daniel made his way quietly into the Infirmary. Jack didn't appear to notice. His eyes were closed. As soon as the bed Daniel sat on, creaked, Jack's eyes flung open and instantly found his friend. Daniel made a mental note: his friends' eyes were so wide, almost wild in fear before he knew who it was. Jackson had never seen that in his friends' eyes before. "It's ok," the archaeologist smiled, "just me."

//'It don't make no difference

Escaping one last time

It's easier to believe'//

Jack turned away when he saw his friend. Why were they bothering? He didn't need to talk to anyone about what happened. It would never leave him alone. He'd never forget - if that's what they were worried about. Why couldn't they see that he didn't need to talk about anything? It would all live with him forever. Forever was a long time for something to stay, but these pictures - these memories - would never fade. They didn't want to. At every chance they got, they flashed by him again, as if to remind him they were still around. They were like a crazed murderer, who shot their dead victim one more time, just to make sure they were dead.

//'In this sweet madness, oh
This glorious sadness

That brings me to my knees'//

Daniel was at a loss for what to say. Now that he was here, and he'd seen that look of almost terror in his friend's eyes, he had no idea what to do. What could he say? 'Hey Jack, how you doing?' Hardly seemed fitting, considering the circumstances.

What could he do? There was such an uncomfortable feel to the picture. Daniel found himself fidgeting. Taking his watch off and putting it back on upside down. Finding a million and one different ways to make pictures with his fingers. Pulling everything out of his pockets and putting it all back in again. Minutes dragged by. Empty, silent minutes. The Infirmary was almost empty aside from Daniel and Jack. Another patient with a broken leg was further along the close line of beds, but he was asleep. Surely an hour had passed by? Two? Twenty minutes?! Daniel thought incredulously as he checked the time. How is that possible? It feels like I've been here for hours!

"Umm.I know Dr. Fraiser has been talking to you a lot this week," Daniel said suddenly, sliding off the bed he sat on and beginning to pace a little along the small space between that bed and Jack's. "I also know you haven't exactly been keeping her entertained. Which is a shame, I mean this place is pretty dead, huh?"

Daniel tried to lighten the mood, but was unsuccessful. "Yeah.well I guess I can't do the doctor speech, seeing as you've probably already heard it. The speech makes sense though, you know? Just because I'm not going to say it, doesn't mean I don't think it's true. Talking about it will help."

Jack clenched his teeth and stopped himself from yelling at his friend. Why did they all insist that talking about it would help? Why did everyone always say that talking would help? What was it about talking that seemed so great? Why would it help? How? If one more person came in and told him that talking about it all would help, Jack knew he'd scream. They have no idea what they're talking about. 'Talking' will NOT help!

"You've always been willing to help when someone else has a problem, Jack,"

Daniel finally said what he was feeling. "Why won't you let us help you?" "Because I don't need help!"

Daniel was initially taken aback. They were the first words Jack had spoken since assuring his friends he was fine upon his arrival home and Daniel hadn't been there then. All those days before. God, why is he so angry? Jackson thought. His eyes are so angry. No - that's not anger. The initial mistake of believing it was anger shining so brightly in Jack's eyes could have been made by anyone. However, Daniel had corrected his mistake quickly. He realised that it was not anger in his friends' eyes at all. The anger was a perfect cover up for the truth. Pain was in Jack's eyes, not anger.

"I don't believe that," Daniel stated. "I don't believe it at all. You don't either, do you?"

"Go away, Daniel," Jack hissed, never looking at his friend.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Jack? Why are you making yourself suffer? You know you don't have to. You know we're all here because we care. I don't care if you've heard all this a million times before, you can hear it again, because it's true. If you can't see that, then you're blind."

"You're right, Daniel, I have heard it a million times. I don't want to hear it again."

"Because you know it's true or because you don't want to believe it?" Daniel came back quickly with his own thoughts. Perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so brutally honest, but he knew with Jack there was no use being anything else. There was no other way.

"Go away, Daniel," Jack repeated.

"All right, Jack. I'll go. Just remember, we're all trying to help," Jackson reminded his friend and then left him alone. Time would help, wouldn't it?

//'In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room

And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the angels

May you find some comfort here'//