Author's Note: Here you go. For giving me seven reviews, I think, here's the next chapter. You know, I think I should say that more often. It got your attention this time! Enjoy and please R/R. I mean it, you now my punishment! ;)
Summary: Jack's newest cell leads to more complications. How can he keep sane if they keep pushing?
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Paradise
Chapter Six:
Which witch is which?
**Unknown**
Jack had no idea how long he had slept, but he knew that he didn't get into a deep enough sleep to be able to talk to Janet. Though he had only spoken to her a few times, he felt as if a little of the Colonel O'Neill she was fighting hard to revive was rubbing off on him.
In that reality, he may have never had any survival training or been captured by any opposing force, but, somehow, he knew that the other- the real- Jack O'Neill had. He knew that he had to remain strong and talk little. Not to mention ignore what they said; what was going on around him. Otherwise, he knew they would get to him; confuse him and make him think the way they wanted him to.
Sitting up, Jack could still see nothing in his pitch-black room. It was too dark to see anything, not even the door he knew had been used only twice in his presence. With that in mind, he thought of George. He had seemed nice enough, but also mind-washed. Mind-washed to believe something Jack could clearly see wasn't true.
In that moment, the door opened again, this time allowing some but little light in, as if it was late afternoon. Someone's shadow entered the doorway, blocking the small amount of light Jack had been getting.
Looking up at the unnamed figure, he found that it was extremely familiar. It was the same, bald figure of George. He stood at his full height and looked down on Jack as if it was completely natural.
Moving in closer towards Jack, he could see that he no longer wore his IC uniform but, rather, the black, intimidating uniform of a Police officer. The color of the uniform seemed to cause his head to float once the door closed and the two were again draped in the complete darkness Jack was beginning to become accustom to.
"Good mourning, Jack," George greeted him. For a moment, Jack was confused. The last time George entered and said good mourning, it had been extremely bright, and this time it wasn't but he still had said good mourning.
Trying to ignore that- ignore what he was told to keep from going insane- he said in a sarcastic tone, "I thought you were going home, George. What happened? And what's with the new outfit?" Jack asked, deciding to keep his cool and ask the obvious questions.
George just looked at him, his demeanor calm, collected, and completely oblivious to everything else in the world. "Now, Jack, we went through this yesterday. I'm not a patient here, you are. And I am truly a Police officer, you know that. As for going home, I do that every day, and then I come back, just like any other working person."
Jack creased his brow yet again. That was not what they talked about the other day. And he had not been wearing the Police uniform, but an IC one. Sighing, Jack asked, "Then what was all that talk about understanding what you did wrong and that you got to go home from this place? Or about helping me?"
George, too, sighed and took a seat on the same chair used the pervious day. "I told you yesterday that I want to help you get better, we all do. That's why you're here. You're confused and afraid, but we're going to help you and make you better. Make you understand what you did and why it was wrong."
Jack, not caring about that and knowing that he was twisting the words of the pervious day, asked, "And what did I do? I didn't steal, I didn't kill, I didn't-"
"It's time for dinner," George cut him off, his deep voice overpowering Jack's but not showing a slight emotion. "I bet you're hungry." From behind him, George pulled out a nicely sized box, about fifteen centimeters by fifteen centimeters and about five centimeters deep.
Opening it, George pulled out an egg and set the box aside. Pushing his finger through the soft-shell, he managed to put a hole through the egg, enough to see the yellow insides. With ease and seemingly some experience, he brought the hole to his mouth and dumped the liquid into his mouth and down his throat.
At that moment, Jack realized just how hungry he really was. His stomach lurched as George swallowed and the saliva in his mouth nearly doubled. George, finally looking at Jack since he had started his mission, said, "Would you like one?"
Jack was about to jump up and grab the egg from his outstretched hand but caught himself. As Jack recalled, he had said that it was dinner and pouched eggs were a breakfast food, not a dinner meal.
"Oh, come on. I know you'd like it," George said, moving his hand in an attempt to sway Jack to take it. When Jack didn't, he shrugged and said, "Fine by me," before eating it in front of Jack.
"Well, would you look at the time. I must be going," George said in perfect sync with the opening door. The same three men walked in just as George got up to leave. But, before he did, he turned and said, "I guess we'll have to wait until breakfast." With that, he left Jack to struggle against the injection.
Jack's mind was confused and hazed between his hunger and the drugs. He wanted out but knew that he would get it. Not unless he could keep control and use his mind properly. He needed to think… to get out of that place. He needed…
At the moment, the drugs had taken effect and Jack was unconscious before the three men had left the room.
**Infirmary, Monday at 2342 Hours**
It had been four hours and no one, not even Jack, had woken up. And that was making Janet worry. She had found that every two hours equaled a day in their "dream" world. And that was why she was fearful for Jack.
The last time she had spoken to him, he mentioned something about being sedated. If that was true, then whoever had done it could be keeping him sedated but not quite unconscious enough to make him wake up in her reality.
Watching her good friends, her expression grim. Looking at each monitor individually; taking in their heart rate, breathing, brainwaves. Once she got to Daniel, she found all of the obvious signs he was beginning to wake.
Moving closer to him, she watched his eyes flicker open- blinking a few times before they were adjusted to the lightening. His head turned and took in everything around him. Janet, remembering what happened during their last encounter, put two restraining hands on him the minute she saw his eyes widen. At that moment, she knew he had figured out where he was and she was worried that he would freak out again.
"It's ok, Daniel," she cooed to him as he struggled to move away from her hands. But, after only a second or so of fighting against her, Daniel calmed and took a deep breath. He wanted to know what drew Jack to that place: to the "dream".
Calming himself, Daniel allowed his gaze to set on Janet. Looking into her eyes, he could see caring and a gentle nature just as she could see his fear and bravado at the shear notion that he was back in the too real "dream".
As he settled back into his bed, he tried to adjust to the painful tubes connected to his body. At the same time, he watched her closely- taking in every detail about her that he could. She was very much like his Janet- her counterpart. In too many ways for his liking.
Seeing her lips move, Daniel strained his ears to hear what her soft voice was trying to say. "Daniel, is that you? Or… not?"
Taking a moment to process and comprehend what she was asking him, he shook his head and stuttered out, "M-my name is-is Daniel." Janet nodded, understanding that the fear in his voice meant he wasn't her Daniel.
"Ok, Daniel," Janet said, moving her hands slowly away from him, weary of the fact he could still try to escape. Seeing that he had relaxed to her presence, she ran a hand through his mangled hair and inquired, "Do you know what happened to Jack O'Neill?"
Daniel looked up at the caring Doctor before turning his head slowly to the side. His eyes searching over the few beds, his eyes finally rested upon Jack O'Neill, his long time friend and co-worked.
For a minute, his eyes lingered on Jack, watching his chest moving in a rhythmic pattern. Looking him over, he saw that he had an identical outfit along with several similar tubes connected to his chest and abdomen.
Looking back at Janet, he said, "J-Jack w-was taken, uh, away."
"By whom?"
"The Police. That's w-what I heard from Sam," Daniel explained, his stutter not so defined.
"The Police? What did he do?" Janet asked, trying hard to ignore the unavoidable stutter the best linguist she'd even met now had.
"Talked… about things… he s-shouldn't h-have," Daniel explained. "He'll b-be back… in f-five d-days. T-they always do."
"Who's they, Daniel?" Janet pushed, but Daniel turned his head away. When she asked him again, he merely shook his head for he didn't have an answer. "Daniel? Daniel, look at me." With her plea, Daniel looked back at her; his eyes watering with newly formed tears. "It's ok, Daniel," Janet said in a soothing voice as she rubbed his upper arm. "It's ok."
"He w-will come back, right?"
Janet sighed as she looked into his blue eyes. Seeing the flicker of dread and hope caused by the internal battle he was ragging inside, Janet knew she could say nothing to destroy his hope. But, then again, she knew nothing of what he was talking about.
Using her unoccupied hand, she reached up and ran her hand back through his sandy brown hair. Then, in a voice more sure than she felt, she told him, "I'm sure he will." With her words of hope, Daniel seemed to relax slightly. Janet watched as his eyes closed and she knew he had fallen back into his coma-like sleep.
**Unknown**
When Jack awoke, he found himself, not in the same black room he had been in when he had last been awake, but in an extremely bright and padded room. It was as if he were in some kind of psychiatric facility. He had been to one and had to operate on a patient who had disabled their chip. He had cried out that it was what THEY had used to control his mind but he wouldn't let them get to him. Then, Jack had thought the man mentally unstable, but reliving the past few- what? Days? Hours? Minutes?- he had begun to seriously reevaluate some things.
Looking around, he noted that the walls where padded in white pads, most likely to make sure he didn't 'hurt himself in a violent attempt at harming himself or others'. He could also just make out where the door was hidden to him- where he knew that at any moment George would walk through and begin talking to him.
Waiting a minute, he expected George to come through, but he didn't. This completely through off Jack, probably what they wanted. To get him so used to something and then do something different. Like the change in setting.
As Jack went to stand up, he found that it was practically impossible with his hands somehow bond behind his back. Looking down at himself, he found that he had a jacket of sorts on and his arms were behind his back being kept there by some kind of restraint.
For once, Jack managed to see what he was actually wearing. Though he knew the jacket was, at least, the newest of his clothing, he could then see that he was in white cotton pants and had no shoes or socks on- something he was pretty sure went the same for back in the other cell.
As Jack struggled to get himself in a sitting position, only accomplished when he managed to get up close to the wall and use it as leverage, he heard someone walking through the halls. Smiling, Jack had a feeling it was George. And when the door opened, Jack opened his mouth to say…
But he quickly shut it when he realized it wasn't George. It was a woman, who had short red hair and wore the strangest nurse's uniform Jack had ever seen. It was one that he had seen in museums from fifty or so years ago.
Stepping inside and allowing the door to close behind her, the nurse slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out another needle. Jack brow creased, he only got injection to go to bed. At least that's what he had thought.
Doing what Jack had seen the giant man do two times already, she tapped the glass and prepared the shot for him. Jack watched her like a hawk through his tired and drug weary eyes, red rings forming around them from the lack of true sleep. At first, the nurse acted as if she didn't even know he was there and made Jack feel as if he could get up and leave- that is, if he could get up.
"Good mourning. So, are you going to be a good boy and let me inject you now? Or do I have to get Henry and James in here to help?" The nurse asked, her voice making it sound like she was talking to an infant or animal.
Jack looked at her thoughtfully for a minute. Either way, he was getting the drug, it didn't matter how. Sighing, Jack just sat there and prepared himself for another jab in his already stinging arm.
The nurse took his silence for a go-a-head to do it herself. Stepping forward, she bent down and brought the injection to his arm. Just before the needle pierced the skin, Jack asked, "What's this for, anyway?"
The nurse stopped at looked at him as if he was an idiot. "You know, silly." When it was evident he didn't 'know', she said, "It's to keep you calm, of course. That way you don't have any more of those violent outburst."
"Is that why I'm here? 'Violent outbursts'?" Jack asked the nurse, trying to learn about where he was and why.
The nurse shook her head and said, "You should know that. Why are you asking so many questions, today, anyway? I think I'll just have to tell Dr. Hammond." With that, the nurse pushed the needle into Jack's arm, making his wince at the unexpected movement. "There you go. The Doctor will be with you in a moment."
Once she was done with her job, the nurse stood and walked toward the door. When it opened, it was fairly light outside- just lighter than the first time he had seen outside his other cell door. With the nurse's remark and the lighting outside, Jack figured it to be late morning.
Leaning awkwardly back against the padded wall, Jack tried to digest all the information he had been collecting. It was a lot, but it was all useful. The only problem was his mind was too tired and that was directly when the drug decided to kick in and begin to work.
The room seemed like it was distorting and his vision was entirely blurred. Closing his eyes only helped to stop the dizziness but, eventually, he had to open his eyes and that only seemed to make it worse.
At that moment, the door opened yet again and someone walked in. Because of Jack's distorted vision, it was almost impossible for him to identify whom. The only thing he could really tell was that he wore some kind of lab coat like what Janet wore in his dream.
"Good afternoon, Jack. How are you feeling?" The voice was unmistakable and Jack knew who it was right away, it was George. Dr. George Hammond, he now knew.
With the drugs in his system, Jack found it nearly impossible understand most of what was going on but he forced himself to listen and think it all through. Shaking his head, he said, "The nurse… said it was mourning… not afternoon."
"What nurse, Jack? You don't have nurses come in here anymore. Just Henry and James to give you the shot, every afternoon and at night," George told him, sitting down next to Jack on the nicely padded floors.
"No," Jack moaned as he tried his hardest to shake his head back and forth.
"Yes, Jack. After we moved you here a year ago, no more nurse come in."
"A year? No, yesterday… in dark room… not here," Jack informed George.
"Yesterday? No, I don't think so, Jack. Remember, we found you in a dark room after you had killed Mr. Thomson. Then you came here, two years ago. Last year, you had a violent break down and we were forced to put you in here," the so-called Doctor informed Jack while he merely shook his head.
"No, I never hurt anyone. I don't… know why I'm here," Jack complained to the only person who would listen… but not believe.
"I afraid it is true, Jack. The longer you refuse to believe it, the harder it will be to get better. All it takes, is to say you did it," George told him, his hand patting his should as his voice was soothing and compassionate.
"No," Jack moaned again. "I didn't do it. I didn't do it." Jack was having a harder and harder time figuring out what was going on around him. It wasn't just the context of the words, but the deeper meanings. He knew he hadn't been in that facility for two years- he had been living with Sam. Right? But it was just like the other dreams, what was real? And what wasn't? Was it his dream of Janet? Or his life with Sam? Or his life in the hospital as a murderer?
George sighed, seeing that he would get nowhere in that manner. "Perhaps you should think about it, Jack. Try to remember what happened, I know you can. Tell me what happened that day."
Jack looked at him, his mind almost wanting to believe, to make it all easier. But he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out everything and hoping to wake up somewhere else, anywhere else.
When he opened his eyes, he was still in the padded white room, with George sitting next to him. Thinking back, Jack tried to remember if he had ever done anything like that. He could remember the dark room he had occupied the last time he was conscious- at least, he thought so. It was dark, there were no doors except where everyone entered, but once it closed it seemed to disappear.
Thinking back father, Jack remembered… he remembered nothing. He couldn't think past the dark room. Shaking his head again, Jack told George, "I can't remember…" pausing only a second when George's expression seemed to change and think that he believed, he added in a hash tone, "Because it never happened."
Jack's voice had been considerably raised and echoed in the tiny, silent room. George looked at him and said, "Alright, Jack. If you want to believe that, that's find. But sooner or later, you'll be made to understand. I'm just trying to help you, make yourself understand instead."
George stood and headed for the door. Knocking on the padding, the door swung opened- this time to reveal no light. "Good night, Jack," George called before the same three men walked in with a large shot Jack had grown too accustom to seeing.
Finally having enough light to look at them, Jack saw that they were all about the same height and weight, which was about a head or so taller than Jack and a good two something pounds. The two that always grabbed Jack and held him down were both quiet muscular while the third was muscular enough but as much as his companions.
As Jack continued to watch them, he found that all of them were white males in about their mid-thirties. The two holding him both had dark brown hair while the third had blonde hair and blue eyes. The man with the shot, he also seemed to have a much lighter complexion than the other two.
Finally, the shot was inserted into Jack's skin and he could no longer take in anything about the three men. As Jack laid on the padded carpet, he seemed to take a few more minutes to fall completely to sleep. And, in that time, he watched as the three men watched him until his eyes turned back into his sockets and his eyelids closed, leaving him at their mercy.
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Anyone as confused as Jack is? I know I felt that way trying to write this! It was fun but hard.
Anyway, my real question is, anybody know what the real reality is? I don't know, there are just so many! But, please R/R and tell me whatever you want about anything.