Part 2 - Beneath the Surface
Jack lay awake that evening, in his quarters for the first time in what seemed like forever to him.
//'Lie awake at night, but dream
Of the places you once were
Haunting you night and day
While you try not to remember
And in the darkness, still
A hope to once you held
Your home and friends are there
To lead you through this Hell'//
It was refreshing, to finally be out of the Infirmary, free from interruptions, able to sleep in the quiet of his own quarters. Yet, at the same time, it was incredibly lonely. Being alone was something Jack had gotten used to on P4C 237 and even long before that, but now, alone didn't seem as welcoming as the thought of it had before. The solitude he'd sought while the bustling Infirmary surrounded him was essentially to be rid of prying eyes. Now they were gone, there was nothing. He had gone from one extreme to the other, and it was a somewhat radical change. Jack sighed. He almost couldn't stand being alone; there was nothing to distract him from his memories. They flashed by him, the blackness of his quarters making the memories feel like lightning on a stormy night. Only this lightning wasn't just flashing by Jack, it was striking him.
***
The searing flesh sent a repugnant, unbearable stench through the room as Lopbell went to fire up another hot poker. Shackled up like a convict, Jack breathed deep to try and overcome the literally burning pain on the last place the poker had met his chest. He didn't need to look to know there was blood flowing quite freely over his back, where Lopbell had begun the torture, over two hours before. Jack's skin had barely had a week and a half to heal from the whipping, before it was burned off again by this new form of torture.
The poker alone, crackling within the fire, sent chills through Jack's body, if it were possible. Red, roaring pain, charged like a bull up and down his veins, as though his blood was burning within him. Sweltering from the fire and the pain, his face was covered in perspiration and he could feel it trickling down his neck and back, along with his blood. Lopbell brought back the newly heated poker, and held it level with O'Neill's right shoulder.
"Where did the other one go?" the king's first prime demanded flatly for the millionth time.
Jack struggled, but raised his head to see Lopbell's unattractive face. "How many times," he began, his voice trembling, "do I have to tell you.that I don't know what you're talking about."
Lopbell cocked his head and smiled. He enjoyed every minute of making this man suffer. Some might say sadistic, but he chose to look at it as a just punishment someone had to be the enforcer of and if that person was him, then why shouldn't he enjoy every moment of it?
Lopbell grabbed the poker's handle with two hands, and thrust it forward, hitting Jack's shoulder viciously, pushing his whole body back at the shock of the contact. His own voice echoed through his head as he screamed in horrific pain as the burning hot poker seared away his flesh and made the blood-flow begin from another wound.
***
The shocking sound of his own scream in his head made Jack wake up very suddenly. He shot bolt upright in his bed, noticing that his face was wet with a cold sweat; his breathing was very fast and erratic, along with his heart. He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his accelerated heartbeat. Then there was a small knock on his door. "Colonel, are you in there?" It was Carter.
Jack shook his head, knowing she couldn't see. He didn't feel up to talking to anyone right now, least of all the person outside his door. Don't say anything, don't say anything, he told himself mentally, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't pretend to not be in his quarters. He couldn't lie. "Colonel, it's Major Carter. Can I talk to you, please?" Sam persisted, hoping she wasn't just talking to the door.
Jack didn't bother to say anything in reply, but got off his bed and opened the door, to see Sam standing in front of him. He noticed her taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what she had to say. "Can I come in, Sir?" Sam asked, keeping the formality noticeable. She watched her CO step aside and flick the light switch to create some light within the dark room as she entered. She sat down when silently offered a seat and tried to find the right words to begin with.
"Colonel, I want to apologise again, for today," Sam said and waited for her Colonel's input. He sat on his bed, looking at his hands, not saying a word. Is he listening to me? There's something wrong. "Colonel? Are you all right?"
Jack lifted his eyes and saw the concern written all over Sam's face. Looking away, Jack answered: "Yeah."
"I know I've already apologised, Sir, but I thought it was necessary to come here and say it again. I feel as though I've crossed a line I shouldn't have been anywhere near. I hope that hasn't destroyed our friendship, Colonel, because that would be awful." Sam watched the man sitting before her. His eyes were focussed on his hands. He didn't look up at her at all, even after nearly five minutes of silence. This isn't right, Sam decided, something's definitely wrong. "Colonel, are you sure you're ok? You don't seem like yourself."
Jack slowly looked up, this time raising his head with his eyes. His face answered Sam's question, but he didn't speak. Somehow, he couldn't. The shocking memories, still in his mind, rendered him unwilling to communicate. Just the memories made him feel weak. Made him feel insecure. "What is it, Sir?" Sam begged. She desperately wanted to help, but didn't know how.
"I can't, Carter," Jack answered. "I can't."
"You can't what? What is it? Please, let me help, Jack," Sam used her CO's name apprehensively, but felt she needed to, so she could properly convey her desire to help. The use of his name accentuated her need to help him in any way possible.
"You can't help," Jack said honestly. "You can't."
"Can I try? Will you let me try?"
//'Cry out to those who listen
They are the ones who care
Their help has long been waiting
The many crosses that you bare
Hold yourself together
Hardship lasts long years
They will be there to witness
Though you will cry no tears'//
"Please don't, Sam."
"Don't what? Don't care? Don't want to help? I can't do that. I want to help you."
"Don't. Just - just go, please."
Sam sighed, chewing her bottom lip to stop herself saying things she would only regret later. Don't be an idiot, Sam. Don't stuff things up. Just go and leave him alone. If he doesn't want to talk about things, then he doesn't have to. Just leave him alone. Alone wouldn't help him, Sam knew that, but her conscience kept telling her to respect his wishes and leave him alone. Sam wanted to stamp her foot; her own thoughts made her so mad! But she respected the wishes of her Colonel and left his quarters, closing the door behind her.
Jack tried to knock sense into himself, but it didn't work. The images in his mind were going to haunt him for a long time, he knew that, but he also knew he couldn't let them take so much control of him. The memories, forever locked in his mind, would take time for him to get used to. He knew the healing process was a long one - hell, he'd still barely gotten over Charlie's death - but he needed to control this. He still wished sometimes that he was dead, but he wasn't. He was alive, and he needed to deal with his memories.
Jack's memories still haunted him, even now. Memories from years past, not just the months he spent on P4C 237. Those particular memories were still fresh in his mind, reminding him how painful the experience was and how scarred he was from it. Not only physically, but mentally scarred. The kind of scars that never faded.
That night didn't involve any sleeping for Jack, but the next day couldn't have come quicker.
@
The next morning, Kayla requested another session with Jack, only this time not involving any kind of hypnotism. Initially, Jack was uncomfortable with the idea; it didn't sound too inviting, having to sit down and talk about his problems without there being some form of a barrier between him and his memories.
Kayla explained that, this time, it would only be the two of them. If Jack was comfortable with Janet or Sam being there - or anyone else for that matter - that was fine too, but otherwise, it was just patient and doctor. Kayla also explained that if, at any time, Jack wanted to stop, or take a break, that was completely his choice. She would not interfere, or stop him. Basically, the whole thing was on Jack's terms, which had some form of appeal, but not quite enough to get him interested. The whole idea seemed a bit dicey to him; he wasn't overly keen on any of it.
In spite of his general feelings of ambiguity towards this new idea, Jack overcame his initial reactions and agreed to try it out. For the first session, he preferred it to be just him and Kayla, rather than having onlookers. They made it harder for him to talk, knowing they were there listening, shocked at what they heard. Kayla was probably just as shocked by what she heard, but being a psychologist, she maintained a collected, unaffected appearance, making it easier for Jack to talk without discomfort.
"Ok, Colonel, I'd like to tell you some of the things we're going to do today," Kayla said, keeping her voice soft and calming. Her voice was an important factor; the key to how much Jack chose to tell her. If she sounded threatening in any way, it would create unease and make the whole process almost impossible. "First of all, as I mentioned, if at any time you wish to stop, or take a break, or anything at all, you're in control. If you want to stop, then by all means, say so and we will. Also, I will be setting a scene for you, before you begin. Don't be threatened by that, it's only a brief thing, basically to get you started, rather than just saying, 'ok then, start talking'. Well then, along with all the other things I told you earlier, are you happy to begin?"
Still more than just a little apprehensive, Jack nodded. "Yeah, ok," he agreed.
"Ok, please close you eyes to being with," Kayla smiled briefly before shifting her chair closer to Jack. He closed his eyes reluctantly. He didn't like not being able to see what was around him.
"Imagine you are inside that little room you have mentioned before. Describe it for me, as though you're there."
A perfect, clear image of the torture chamber slowly materialized in Jack's mind, as though he were back there again. Briefly, he wondered if he was. Maybe all this time he'd thought he was back at the SGC, he was really still on P4C 237. He chased the irrelevant thoughts away from his mind; he didn't need any distractions. "It's small and dark," Jack recalled vividly. "There are two windows. They're both always covered with some kind of cloth, that's why it's so dark. The walls are all the same, but it's hard to tell what the room itself is made from. It looks like stone. The ground is dirt and rocks - uncomfortable. It's always cold, outside the room and inside. It's a really cold planet all the time, that's what I was told."
"So you had contact with some people then?"
"Yes."
"Who were they?"
"Only one other person. Azyalae. She was the doctor that treated me. She treats all the injured people in her village. She stayed up all night."
"When?"
"When I was really bad. She stayed awake, waiting for me to wake up."
"When were you with her? Where was she stationed so that she wasn't found?"
"She was in a barn. She had friends who worked in closely with the king. He knew there was a doctor around, somewhere, but whenever he ordered a search to find her, Azyalae's friends would let her know and she'd move until the search was over. She'll probably never be found."
"How long were you with her?"
"Sometimes a few days, sometimes only a few hours."
"Who came to get you after your time was up?"
"The king's guards. They all knew Azyalae, apart from the ones that - the ones who - the ones I saw everyday. The guards would come and take me back to the chamber."
"The guards you saw everyday. They were the ones who followed this king?"
"They believed in him. They thought he was the best king the planet had ever seen."
"Did everyone believe in this man?" "Not everyone. The slaves, the women who worked endless days in the fields - they didn't. Only the ones who got to do the fun jobs liked him."
"Fun jobs? What were they? Were there many of those jobs?"
"None that I could see."
"What were they?"
"Torture."
"That was considered fun?"
"By the ones who did it, yes."
"How?"
"How do you think?"
Kayla sighed. She had gone a bit too far asking that so bluntly, but it was important for Jack to actually speak about what happened to him, hearing his own words. He needed to talk about his surroundings, and the people who had tortured him. As much as he would hate it, he needed to do it. "I'm sorry, Colonel," Kayla said, "but if this is going to help you at all, you really do need to answer the questions I ask you. Unfortunately, that doesn't include answering them with another question, though. I know I said you can stop this at any time, and you still can, but you are doing very well."
Jack nodded. He knew he didn't need to be so sharp in responding, but the question seemed unimportant, as well as just plain dumb. When he thought about it clearly, he found that the question probably did have some relevance; he just couldn't see it when it was asked. "Sorry," he apologised earnestly.
"It's all right," Kayla smiled. "Close your eyes again, and we shall pretend to ask that question for the first time, again."
Jack did as he was asked and waited for Kayla to repeat the question. "You were telling me how it was obvious the people torturing you were having fun."
"By their faces."
"Their faces. What was it about their faces that told you they were having fun?"
"They smiled. Laughed. They laughed in my face while they beat me."
"Why do you think they did that?"
"To make me angry."
"Did it make you angry?"
"No."
"Why not?"
At this, Jack paused. He almost didn't want to answer. "Colonel? Why not?" Kayla pursued a response. It seemed a simple enough question on brief inspection. However, it was beneath the surface that the true pain was buried.
Jack swallowed. "Because - because I was too weak to be angry."
@
"Kayla?" Janet said as she peeked her head around the door, left slightly ajar.
"Janet," Kayla replied, smiling wearily, "come in."
"How did it go? The new approach with Colonel O'Neill?" Janet asked as she entered the room, noticing how tired her friend looked.
"All right," Kayla said dejectedly.
"You don't sound convinced. Did something go wrong?"
"No, no. Nothing like that."
Janet sat down on the bed, next to her friend. "Then what's up? Did something happen?" she asked. Her friend's quiet, disconsolate mood was a very noticeable thing when her usual demeanour was bright and happy.
"Not really," Kayla sighed, "and that's the problem."
"You might have to elaborate for me a little bit there."
"The idea of this new approach for was Colonel O'Neill to explore better ways of releasing his inner thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately, I still don't think he is open enough to different ideas. He is still trapping his feelings away, keeping them hidden. His defences are well structured though, I must say that."
"So what did you actually talk about? I know you can't tell me directly, but just basically?"
"I asked questions and he answered them. Granted, he did answer them all better than just a simple yes/no or maybe, but he left it fairly simple. He didn't go into detail, and he didn't offer information without being asked a question. I decided this way was better for him, now, so that he could open up at his own pace. He could just talk about something, without being under hypnosis or anything else. I hoped that would happen, but it didn't."
"You're disappointed in yourself, aren't you?" Janet stated, rather than asked; she knew her friend well. Even though they'd not seen each other for so long, neither of them had changed that much.
"Oh, Janet, you know me too well," Kayla smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. I've treated a lot of people who are shut away. People who've closed themselves off. This man is closed. He's closed himself away - taken himself away and put a new person there for us to see. I know I don't know him well, but I know this isn't the person he used to be.
This horrible thing - he's let it change him. He's closed off his memory, or at least he's trying to. I know none of us can possibly imagine what it must have been like, and there is no way I'd try and pretend I could, but I do know that people have recovered before. People have been subjected to phenomenal amounts of pain and suffering, but still managed to pull their lives back. People weaker than Colonel O'Neill have done that. Of course, some people - some strong people - have allowed themselves to lose. They've not had the mental strength to cope with the recurring nightmares or the endless memories.
I know it's a hard thing to understand. It's hard to understand something you've never been through yourself, believe me, I've tried. I don't now, and I never will, pretend to know what it would be like.
But, as a psychologist, I have to try to comprehend the enormity of the situation. In doing that, I need for my patient to learn to trust me - it's the only way it will work. For me to do my job and be of any help at all, my patients need to trust me. Once that trust is established, I also try to gain their respect, and possibly become their friend to some degree. Then, the entire job becomes a whole lot easier for me and my patient. If they are ok talking to me, they will slowly allow their pain to be released, and then the process is truly valuable. So far, with Colonel O'Neill, I think I've gained his trust to a point, his respect seemed to come without question, but that's all. I don't think I will ever be close to being his friend, and I'm not so sure he will be comfortable opening up to me any time soon, either. I'm feeling very gloomy at the moment, perhaps I'm not the best person to be around."
"I don't think I've ever seen you this troubled before," Janet said concernedly. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Kayla sighed again. This was really beginning to get to her in a way she'd never experienced before.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're doing your best, and that's all you can do. Don't stress too much, Kayla. Colonel O'Neill has made me wonder if I'm doing the right thing sometimes too, and I'm usually wrong when I do. He doesn't mean to, he probably thinks you're a really nice person. I'm sure it's nothing personal. He's a very solitary person at times. Give him time, he'll come around." Kayla smiled half-heartedly as Janet stood up.
"Thanks for listening, Janet," she said. "I know I was just venting, but it's nice to have someone there to listen sometimes."
"No problem, you know I'll always listen to you. That's what friends are for, huh?" Janet smiled, nudging her friend's shoulder before she left.
"Yeah," Kayla murmured after Janet was gone, "that's what friends are for."
Jack lay awake that evening, in his quarters for the first time in what seemed like forever to him.
//'Lie awake at night, but dream
Of the places you once were
Haunting you night and day
While you try not to remember
And in the darkness, still
A hope to once you held
Your home and friends are there
To lead you through this Hell'//
It was refreshing, to finally be out of the Infirmary, free from interruptions, able to sleep in the quiet of his own quarters. Yet, at the same time, it was incredibly lonely. Being alone was something Jack had gotten used to on P4C 237 and even long before that, but now, alone didn't seem as welcoming as the thought of it had before. The solitude he'd sought while the bustling Infirmary surrounded him was essentially to be rid of prying eyes. Now they were gone, there was nothing. He had gone from one extreme to the other, and it was a somewhat radical change. Jack sighed. He almost couldn't stand being alone; there was nothing to distract him from his memories. They flashed by him, the blackness of his quarters making the memories feel like lightning on a stormy night. Only this lightning wasn't just flashing by Jack, it was striking him.
***
The searing flesh sent a repugnant, unbearable stench through the room as Lopbell went to fire up another hot poker. Shackled up like a convict, Jack breathed deep to try and overcome the literally burning pain on the last place the poker had met his chest. He didn't need to look to know there was blood flowing quite freely over his back, where Lopbell had begun the torture, over two hours before. Jack's skin had barely had a week and a half to heal from the whipping, before it was burned off again by this new form of torture.
The poker alone, crackling within the fire, sent chills through Jack's body, if it were possible. Red, roaring pain, charged like a bull up and down his veins, as though his blood was burning within him. Sweltering from the fire and the pain, his face was covered in perspiration and he could feel it trickling down his neck and back, along with his blood. Lopbell brought back the newly heated poker, and held it level with O'Neill's right shoulder.
"Where did the other one go?" the king's first prime demanded flatly for the millionth time.
Jack struggled, but raised his head to see Lopbell's unattractive face. "How many times," he began, his voice trembling, "do I have to tell you.that I don't know what you're talking about."
Lopbell cocked his head and smiled. He enjoyed every minute of making this man suffer. Some might say sadistic, but he chose to look at it as a just punishment someone had to be the enforcer of and if that person was him, then why shouldn't he enjoy every moment of it?
Lopbell grabbed the poker's handle with two hands, and thrust it forward, hitting Jack's shoulder viciously, pushing his whole body back at the shock of the contact. His own voice echoed through his head as he screamed in horrific pain as the burning hot poker seared away his flesh and made the blood-flow begin from another wound.
***
The shocking sound of his own scream in his head made Jack wake up very suddenly. He shot bolt upright in his bed, noticing that his face was wet with a cold sweat; his breathing was very fast and erratic, along with his heart. He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his accelerated heartbeat. Then there was a small knock on his door. "Colonel, are you in there?" It was Carter.
Jack shook his head, knowing she couldn't see. He didn't feel up to talking to anyone right now, least of all the person outside his door. Don't say anything, don't say anything, he told himself mentally, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't pretend to not be in his quarters. He couldn't lie. "Colonel, it's Major Carter. Can I talk to you, please?" Sam persisted, hoping she wasn't just talking to the door.
Jack didn't bother to say anything in reply, but got off his bed and opened the door, to see Sam standing in front of him. He noticed her taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what she had to say. "Can I come in, Sir?" Sam asked, keeping the formality noticeable. She watched her CO step aside and flick the light switch to create some light within the dark room as she entered. She sat down when silently offered a seat and tried to find the right words to begin with.
"Colonel, I want to apologise again, for today," Sam said and waited for her Colonel's input. He sat on his bed, looking at his hands, not saying a word. Is he listening to me? There's something wrong. "Colonel? Are you all right?"
Jack lifted his eyes and saw the concern written all over Sam's face. Looking away, Jack answered: "Yeah."
"I know I've already apologised, Sir, but I thought it was necessary to come here and say it again. I feel as though I've crossed a line I shouldn't have been anywhere near. I hope that hasn't destroyed our friendship, Colonel, because that would be awful." Sam watched the man sitting before her. His eyes were focussed on his hands. He didn't look up at her at all, even after nearly five minutes of silence. This isn't right, Sam decided, something's definitely wrong. "Colonel, are you sure you're ok? You don't seem like yourself."
Jack slowly looked up, this time raising his head with his eyes. His face answered Sam's question, but he didn't speak. Somehow, he couldn't. The shocking memories, still in his mind, rendered him unwilling to communicate. Just the memories made him feel weak. Made him feel insecure. "What is it, Sir?" Sam begged. She desperately wanted to help, but didn't know how.
"I can't, Carter," Jack answered. "I can't."
"You can't what? What is it? Please, let me help, Jack," Sam used her CO's name apprehensively, but felt she needed to, so she could properly convey her desire to help. The use of his name accentuated her need to help him in any way possible.
"You can't help," Jack said honestly. "You can't."
"Can I try? Will you let me try?"
//'Cry out to those who listen
They are the ones who care
Their help has long been waiting
The many crosses that you bare
Hold yourself together
Hardship lasts long years
They will be there to witness
Though you will cry no tears'//
"Please don't, Sam."
"Don't what? Don't care? Don't want to help? I can't do that. I want to help you."
"Don't. Just - just go, please."
Sam sighed, chewing her bottom lip to stop herself saying things she would only regret later. Don't be an idiot, Sam. Don't stuff things up. Just go and leave him alone. If he doesn't want to talk about things, then he doesn't have to. Just leave him alone. Alone wouldn't help him, Sam knew that, but her conscience kept telling her to respect his wishes and leave him alone. Sam wanted to stamp her foot; her own thoughts made her so mad! But she respected the wishes of her Colonel and left his quarters, closing the door behind her.
Jack tried to knock sense into himself, but it didn't work. The images in his mind were going to haunt him for a long time, he knew that, but he also knew he couldn't let them take so much control of him. The memories, forever locked in his mind, would take time for him to get used to. He knew the healing process was a long one - hell, he'd still barely gotten over Charlie's death - but he needed to control this. He still wished sometimes that he was dead, but he wasn't. He was alive, and he needed to deal with his memories.
Jack's memories still haunted him, even now. Memories from years past, not just the months he spent on P4C 237. Those particular memories were still fresh in his mind, reminding him how painful the experience was and how scarred he was from it. Not only physically, but mentally scarred. The kind of scars that never faded.
That night didn't involve any sleeping for Jack, but the next day couldn't have come quicker.
@
The next morning, Kayla requested another session with Jack, only this time not involving any kind of hypnotism. Initially, Jack was uncomfortable with the idea; it didn't sound too inviting, having to sit down and talk about his problems without there being some form of a barrier between him and his memories.
Kayla explained that, this time, it would only be the two of them. If Jack was comfortable with Janet or Sam being there - or anyone else for that matter - that was fine too, but otherwise, it was just patient and doctor. Kayla also explained that if, at any time, Jack wanted to stop, or take a break, that was completely his choice. She would not interfere, or stop him. Basically, the whole thing was on Jack's terms, which had some form of appeal, but not quite enough to get him interested. The whole idea seemed a bit dicey to him; he wasn't overly keen on any of it.
In spite of his general feelings of ambiguity towards this new idea, Jack overcame his initial reactions and agreed to try it out. For the first session, he preferred it to be just him and Kayla, rather than having onlookers. They made it harder for him to talk, knowing they were there listening, shocked at what they heard. Kayla was probably just as shocked by what she heard, but being a psychologist, she maintained a collected, unaffected appearance, making it easier for Jack to talk without discomfort.
"Ok, Colonel, I'd like to tell you some of the things we're going to do today," Kayla said, keeping her voice soft and calming. Her voice was an important factor; the key to how much Jack chose to tell her. If she sounded threatening in any way, it would create unease and make the whole process almost impossible. "First of all, as I mentioned, if at any time you wish to stop, or take a break, or anything at all, you're in control. If you want to stop, then by all means, say so and we will. Also, I will be setting a scene for you, before you begin. Don't be threatened by that, it's only a brief thing, basically to get you started, rather than just saying, 'ok then, start talking'. Well then, along with all the other things I told you earlier, are you happy to begin?"
Still more than just a little apprehensive, Jack nodded. "Yeah, ok," he agreed.
"Ok, please close you eyes to being with," Kayla smiled briefly before shifting her chair closer to Jack. He closed his eyes reluctantly. He didn't like not being able to see what was around him.
"Imagine you are inside that little room you have mentioned before. Describe it for me, as though you're there."
A perfect, clear image of the torture chamber slowly materialized in Jack's mind, as though he were back there again. Briefly, he wondered if he was. Maybe all this time he'd thought he was back at the SGC, he was really still on P4C 237. He chased the irrelevant thoughts away from his mind; he didn't need any distractions. "It's small and dark," Jack recalled vividly. "There are two windows. They're both always covered with some kind of cloth, that's why it's so dark. The walls are all the same, but it's hard to tell what the room itself is made from. It looks like stone. The ground is dirt and rocks - uncomfortable. It's always cold, outside the room and inside. It's a really cold planet all the time, that's what I was told."
"So you had contact with some people then?"
"Yes."
"Who were they?"
"Only one other person. Azyalae. She was the doctor that treated me. She treats all the injured people in her village. She stayed up all night."
"When?"
"When I was really bad. She stayed awake, waiting for me to wake up."
"When were you with her? Where was she stationed so that she wasn't found?"
"She was in a barn. She had friends who worked in closely with the king. He knew there was a doctor around, somewhere, but whenever he ordered a search to find her, Azyalae's friends would let her know and she'd move until the search was over. She'll probably never be found."
"How long were you with her?"
"Sometimes a few days, sometimes only a few hours."
"Who came to get you after your time was up?"
"The king's guards. They all knew Azyalae, apart from the ones that - the ones who - the ones I saw everyday. The guards would come and take me back to the chamber."
"The guards you saw everyday. They were the ones who followed this king?"
"They believed in him. They thought he was the best king the planet had ever seen."
"Did everyone believe in this man?" "Not everyone. The slaves, the women who worked endless days in the fields - they didn't. Only the ones who got to do the fun jobs liked him."
"Fun jobs? What were they? Were there many of those jobs?"
"None that I could see."
"What were they?"
"Torture."
"That was considered fun?"
"By the ones who did it, yes."
"How?"
"How do you think?"
Kayla sighed. She had gone a bit too far asking that so bluntly, but it was important for Jack to actually speak about what happened to him, hearing his own words. He needed to talk about his surroundings, and the people who had tortured him. As much as he would hate it, he needed to do it. "I'm sorry, Colonel," Kayla said, "but if this is going to help you at all, you really do need to answer the questions I ask you. Unfortunately, that doesn't include answering them with another question, though. I know I said you can stop this at any time, and you still can, but you are doing very well."
Jack nodded. He knew he didn't need to be so sharp in responding, but the question seemed unimportant, as well as just plain dumb. When he thought about it clearly, he found that the question probably did have some relevance; he just couldn't see it when it was asked. "Sorry," he apologised earnestly.
"It's all right," Kayla smiled. "Close your eyes again, and we shall pretend to ask that question for the first time, again."
Jack did as he was asked and waited for Kayla to repeat the question. "You were telling me how it was obvious the people torturing you were having fun."
"By their faces."
"Their faces. What was it about their faces that told you they were having fun?"
"They smiled. Laughed. They laughed in my face while they beat me."
"Why do you think they did that?"
"To make me angry."
"Did it make you angry?"
"No."
"Why not?"
At this, Jack paused. He almost didn't want to answer. "Colonel? Why not?" Kayla pursued a response. It seemed a simple enough question on brief inspection. However, it was beneath the surface that the true pain was buried.
Jack swallowed. "Because - because I was too weak to be angry."
@
"Kayla?" Janet said as she peeked her head around the door, left slightly ajar.
"Janet," Kayla replied, smiling wearily, "come in."
"How did it go? The new approach with Colonel O'Neill?" Janet asked as she entered the room, noticing how tired her friend looked.
"All right," Kayla said dejectedly.
"You don't sound convinced. Did something go wrong?"
"No, no. Nothing like that."
Janet sat down on the bed, next to her friend. "Then what's up? Did something happen?" she asked. Her friend's quiet, disconsolate mood was a very noticeable thing when her usual demeanour was bright and happy.
"Not really," Kayla sighed, "and that's the problem."
"You might have to elaborate for me a little bit there."
"The idea of this new approach for was Colonel O'Neill to explore better ways of releasing his inner thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately, I still don't think he is open enough to different ideas. He is still trapping his feelings away, keeping them hidden. His defences are well structured though, I must say that."
"So what did you actually talk about? I know you can't tell me directly, but just basically?"
"I asked questions and he answered them. Granted, he did answer them all better than just a simple yes/no or maybe, but he left it fairly simple. He didn't go into detail, and he didn't offer information without being asked a question. I decided this way was better for him, now, so that he could open up at his own pace. He could just talk about something, without being under hypnosis or anything else. I hoped that would happen, but it didn't."
"You're disappointed in yourself, aren't you?" Janet stated, rather than asked; she knew her friend well. Even though they'd not seen each other for so long, neither of them had changed that much.
"Oh, Janet, you know me too well," Kayla smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. I've treated a lot of people who are shut away. People who've closed themselves off. This man is closed. He's closed himself away - taken himself away and put a new person there for us to see. I know I don't know him well, but I know this isn't the person he used to be.
This horrible thing - he's let it change him. He's closed off his memory, or at least he's trying to. I know none of us can possibly imagine what it must have been like, and there is no way I'd try and pretend I could, but I do know that people have recovered before. People have been subjected to phenomenal amounts of pain and suffering, but still managed to pull their lives back. People weaker than Colonel O'Neill have done that. Of course, some people - some strong people - have allowed themselves to lose. They've not had the mental strength to cope with the recurring nightmares or the endless memories.
I know it's a hard thing to understand. It's hard to understand something you've never been through yourself, believe me, I've tried. I don't now, and I never will, pretend to know what it would be like.
But, as a psychologist, I have to try to comprehend the enormity of the situation. In doing that, I need for my patient to learn to trust me - it's the only way it will work. For me to do my job and be of any help at all, my patients need to trust me. Once that trust is established, I also try to gain their respect, and possibly become their friend to some degree. Then, the entire job becomes a whole lot easier for me and my patient. If they are ok talking to me, they will slowly allow their pain to be released, and then the process is truly valuable. So far, with Colonel O'Neill, I think I've gained his trust to a point, his respect seemed to come without question, but that's all. I don't think I will ever be close to being his friend, and I'm not so sure he will be comfortable opening up to me any time soon, either. I'm feeling very gloomy at the moment, perhaps I'm not the best person to be around."
"I don't think I've ever seen you this troubled before," Janet said concernedly. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Kayla sighed again. This was really beginning to get to her in a way she'd never experienced before.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're doing your best, and that's all you can do. Don't stress too much, Kayla. Colonel O'Neill has made me wonder if I'm doing the right thing sometimes too, and I'm usually wrong when I do. He doesn't mean to, he probably thinks you're a really nice person. I'm sure it's nothing personal. He's a very solitary person at times. Give him time, he'll come around." Kayla smiled half-heartedly as Janet stood up.
"Thanks for listening, Janet," she said. "I know I was just venting, but it's nice to have someone there to listen sometimes."
"No problem, you know I'll always listen to you. That's what friends are for, huh?" Janet smiled, nudging her friend's shoulder before she left.
"Yeah," Kayla murmured after Janet was gone, "that's what friends are for."
