Winter of the Heart

Chapter Two - Thawing

by Flatkatsi

"What's going on?" Daniel Jackson strode angrily towards his waiting team members. His head was still pounding, hours after waking up. His mouth was all furry, and, overall he felt just generally nasty. He had planned a day in bed, building up his energy and courage for the apology he knew that he needed to make to Jack. The phone call to come into the base had been unexpected and unwelcome.

"It's the Colonel. As far as we can tell, he's been injured somehow. Janet's with him now."

"What? How?" Daniel started towards the infirmary doors, only to be stopped by Teal'c's firm grip.

"He's not in the infirmary, Daniel." Sam's voice sounded a little lost, as if unsure of her words. "He's in the OR."

"Why? What happened?"

"That's what I would like to know, Doctor Jackson." The General strode towards them from the direction of the elevators. "Colonel O'Neill has a gunshot wound to the shoulder that appears to be several hours old. Do you have any idea what he was doing last night?"

The three of them exchanged confused looks.

"The Colonel was with us, sir, at least at the beginning of the evening. He left after we ate."

"Where did he go, Major?"

Daniel shifted uncomfortably.

"He informed us he was going to have a few more drinks, General Hammond. We are unsure as to where he went after that." Teal'c answered.

"He was upset, General," said Daniel, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "We had words." He saw the speculation in the General's face, and watched as the older man dismissed it as unimportant.

"So you have no idea where he went?"

"No, sir."

The General frowned. "Colonel O'Neill was arrested early this morning, apparently after assaulting a police officer."

"Assaulting a police officer? Jack?"

"Doctor Jackson, I have my second in command currently in the operating theatre having his shoulder stitched back together after bleeding all over my office. I want to know what happened. If you don't know, then I want you to find out."

Daniel looked at the General and saw his own shock reflected in his CO's eyes.

Sam touched his arm. "Yes, sir. We'll do our best."

"I shall remain here, Major Carter." Teal'c seemed to straighten even further, his stance one of a guard on duty, his eyes on the doors of the operating theatre.

Sam led Daniel down the hallway to her office, quickly pouring him a cup of strong coffee.

He gulped at the hot liquid, hoping it would clear his brain enough to make sense of the situation. Somewhere between leaving them and the base, Jack had managed to get himself not only shot, but arrested. He had to admit - only Jack could get himself into this sort of situation.

The first step was obviously to contact the Police Department, see if they could shed some light on the subject. It seemed inconceivable that they hadn't known something was wrong when Jack had been in the jail.

He reached for the phone.

Jack lay quietly, listening to the movement around him. He had woken several minutes ago, but was content to stay silent. He could hear the soft sounds of voices, whispering near him, easily recognisable, the familiar machines humming in counterpoint to the murmurs.

"They can't question him yet. I won't allow it." The Doc's voice was firm.

"I understand that, Doctor Fraiser, but he killed two people. They will need to speak to him as soon as possible, and I expect you to cooperate." The General's voice was just as firm.

At the General's words, Jack's mind flashed back to the events after he left his team. He remembered them clearly, and a part of him still sought enjoyment in the memory.

"Sir, he almost bled out. I still can't understand why he isn't dead, given the extent of his injury. I need to have some answers before I can even think of letting him wake up."

He cracked one eye open, watching the two figures through his lashes. The Doc looked angry, Hammond tired. He waited for a moment longer before speaking.

"Doc."

He watched her start of surprise with a tiny amount of satisfaction. She hurried towards the bed, the General following in her wake.

"Sir. You shouldn't be awake for hours yet." She grabbed his chart, her eyes scanning it rapidly.

"How are you feeling, son?" Hammond leaned over to look him in the eyes.

How was he feeling? He searched within himself for the answer, and came up with the same one he had decided on back in the General's office.

Dangerous.

"A bit tired, but otherwise okay, thank you, sir."

"I don't understand this." Janet interrupted the two men, her voice puzzled. "It's as if you weren't given any sedative at all, but I've checked the chart. There is something very odd here."

"Odd in what way, Doctor?"

"The Colonel's readings are completed wrong for someone recovering from major surgery, sir. I can't explain it."

"What surgery, Doc?"

Janet looked at the Colonel in surprise.

"You had a gunshot wound, sir. In the shoulder. Don't you remember?"

Jack thought for a moment before answering.

"No, don't remember that at all."

"What do you remember, Colonel?" Hammond's voice was wary, as if reluctant to ask.

"I remember the bar, if that's what you mean, sir. I'm happy to speak to the police. I killed those men in self defence." He saw the others exchange glances at his unemotional tone.

Janet shook her head. "I don't want you to do that until we've worked out what's going on here, Colonel. By all rights, you shouldn't have been able to walk with an injury as extensive as yours, and yet you managed to not only ignore it for hours, but conceal it."

"It probably had something to do with the amount of alcohol I drank, Doc." Jack couldn't help but grimace at the memory.

"You were drunk when you killed those men?" Jack looked up sharply at the General's tone, and caught the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

"No, sir. I wasn't. I knew exactly what I was doing. In fact, I wanted to be drunk. I went there to get drunk, but it didn't matter how much I drank, I stayed sober." He held up his hand to forestall the Doctor's interjection. "And before you say it - I can tell if I'm drunk or not, and I was stone cold sober."

Janet nodded. "If that's the case, Colonel, then it adds a piece to the puzzle. I'll have to run some more tests, but I think I may have the answer."

"Care to let us in on it, Doctor Fraiser."

"I think it may have something to do with the Asgard. I can't see that there is any other explanation." She turned and scanned the monitors before continuing. "With your permission, General, I'd like to attempt to contact them, and speak with the medic that treated the Colonel."

"Certainly, Doctor. Is there any risk to Colonel O'Neill?"

"No, sir. I don't think so, but I'd like to confirm that first. For the moment I want to keep him here in the infirmary. He is recovering from a serious injury, even if he doesn't seem to realise it."

Jack listened to the conversation dispassionately. As far as he was concerned, the fact that he had been shot, and he couldn't even remember it, was yet another symptom of his problem.

A problem he was getting more concerned about by the hour.

Daniel walked as quietly as he could up to Jack's bed. His friend was curled up on his good side, facing the wall, and looked to be asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Daniel turned to go.

"Yes, Daniel?"

He just about leapt out of his shoes at Jack's voice. The other man turned over, slowly and careful, trailing cords and tubes with him.

"Sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I wasn't asleep."

Daniel hesitated for a minute before launching into his prepared speech.

"I apologise for the way I acted the other night, and for what I said. I didn't mean to imply you were hurting any less than the rest of us." He could see no reaction on his friend's face, so he carried on. "I know you handle things differently to me, Jack, and I shouldn't have expected you to do otherwise."

Jack still hadn't reacted, but Daniel could feel the cold gaze of his eyes, just as he had in the restaurant.

Finally the other man spoke.

"Yes, I do react differently. You go out and get drunk and maudlin. I go out and kill people. Obviously we both have to work on our communication skills."

Daniel took a step back, reeling at the words.

"But that was self defence, Jack. It wasn't like you wanted to kill them."

The answer hung in the silence.

"Didn't I, Daniel? You sure of that?"

Jack turned to face the wall again, dismissal clear in his pose.

Daniel left the infirmary, still trying to work out the implication of Jack's words. His own call to the police had been the clue needed to piece the events of the evening together, the question of the missing man from the bar finally answered. He knew they wanted to talk to Jack to confirm the eyewitness accounts, and Jack would probably have to give evidence at the inquest, but there shouldn't be any other repercussions from the incident.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Daniel hurried off. He needed to talk to the General.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

It surprised Jack to find that he actually welcomed the sound of MacKenzie's voice. He carefully twisted around, feeling only a slight pull from the many stitches in his shoulder. There was no pain, despite the Doc's decision not to administer any medication until she had spoken with the Asgard.

"The General tells me you asked to see me." MacKenzie pulled up a chair and sat, settling his white coat around him like a cloak.

Jack tried to ignore the feeling of irritation he had at the sight of the doctor's slightly smug expression.

"Yes, I did." He stopped. He may have asked to speak to the man, but it didn't make doing so any easier. He looked around. "Can you shut the door?"

He waited until the Doctor did so and returned to his seat, before speaking again.

"I have a bit of a problem that I would like to discuss with you."

"I must admit to being surprised to receive your request, Colonel. In fact, I was so surprised that I cleared my appointments, so I'm free for as long as you need me."

Jack was amazed at the sincerity in MacKenzie's voice. He had never liked the man, but he did acknowledge the doctor's desire to do the best for his patients. Admittedly, sometimes his best wasn't that good, as witnessed by his treatment of Daniel, but overall he was an excellent psychiatrist.

Just not someone Jack could feel comfortable talking to.

But he had to talk to someone.

He was beginning to even scare himself.

"I suppose General Hammond has told you about last night?"

"Yes, he has. You know you would have been ordered to speak to me about it?"

"Oh yes, I'm well aware of that." Jack couldn't help raising his eyes at the comment. "Of course I know that. I killed two civilians and walked off. I expected the Air Force to have an issue with it."

"Is that what you want to talk to me about, Colonel? The fact that you left the scene?"

Jack shut his eyes and settled back into the pillow. He had to put his concerns into words, stop hiding behind silence.

"It wasn't that I walked away. It was the reason why I walked away that worries me."

"And why was that, Colonel?"

"Because I was scared of what I might do."

He could sense the doctor waiting for him to speak, using that shrink trick of letting the silence lengthen until the patient had to fill it.

It worked, but only because he let it.

"I enjoyed killing them. I didn't even consider disarming them. I killed them without even thinking, and I loved every second of it. I wanted to keep killing." He snapped his eyes open and impaled MacKenzie on them. "I knew if I didn't leave there then I would keep on killing, just to experience the pleasure it gave me."

"But you did leave. You killed because you had to, and when you had the chance to kill again, you stopped yourself. You didn't kill the policeman who arrested you. You didn't act on your impulse. Why do you think that was?"

Jack grimaced again. This was exactly why he hated talking to MacKenzie. The obvious techniques, the clichéd phrases and questions.

"You really want to know? Because I spent the whole of that night reminding myself how it felt to kill. I filled myself with the memories of death. I sated myself with it, until I could take no more. Believe me, Doctor, you don't want to know how many memories that involved."

MacKenzie's eyes widened, and Jack just caught the involuntary little glance he made towards the closed door, as if checking his escape route was clear. He saw the man stiffen before bringing his gaze back to concentrate on his patient. Jack felt a reluctant admiration.

"How long have you had these feelings, Colonel?"

Jack knew the answer to that question without needing to think about it.

"Since I killed Rast'ur."

"Did you enjoy killing Rast'ur?"

Jack couldn't help himself. He remembered the pleasure he had experienced as he snapped the snake's neck, and knew his lips had turned up in a feral grin.

"Oh, yeah."

"Why do you think you enjoyed the Goa'uld's death?"

"Why? Because he killed my team. He killed them, and he made me bury them. He enjoyed it. He wanted to make me suffer." He spoke without thinking, caught up in the memories. "I saw them dead, and knew that I hadn't saved them. It was my job to save them, to get them out of there, and I failed them. Then, he did it again. And I couldn't stop him, again. He told them. He told them what had happened, and they knew. They knew that I had failed them, just like I've failed so many others over the years. So I did the one thing that I knew I could do well. I killed him." He swallowed hard, shutting his eyes again. "And I enjoyed it."

"You feel guilty because you thought your team had died?"

Jack kept his eyes closed and his voice low.

"Yes, of course I do."

"You weren't angry because Rast'ur had your throat cut? Because he had you killed?"

Jack gave the doctor a puzzled look.

"No. Why would I be angry about that?"

"Most people would be."

"It's a hazard of my profession, Doctor."

"Having your throat cut?"

"No - being killed."

"So to sum up - you killed Rast'ur because he killed your team and gloated about it. You enjoyed killing him. You feel guilty because you enjoyed killing him. Is that correct?"

Jack thought for a second before replying. When he did, it was with reluctance.

"I suppose that about sums it up."

"Do you see where I'm going with this, Colonel?"

"Unfortunately I do."

"When you killed the two men in the bar, what triggered your actions?"

"One of them held a knife up to my face."

MacKenzie allowed himself a small smile.

"Who were you really killing last night, Colonel O'Neill?"

"Rast'ur." The answer came out hard and cold.

"Exactly, Colonel. I don't think you need to feel guilty about enjoying killing the Goa'uld. Anybody who has been through what you have would feel the same. Do you agree?"

Jack nodded. MacKenzie was right.

"As to your guilt about failing the team - you didn't fail them, did you? You rescued them, and got them home. You did your job, under very trying circumstances, I might add. With injuries that would have had most people barely able to walk." He stopped and spoke firmly, pulling Jack's eyes to meet his. "Colonel O'Neill, we may not see eye to eye, but I have never had anything but respect for you. You are the most honourable man I know. You are the last person that would fail his team."

The response came out slowly, as if dragged from the bottom of a pit.

"Thanks, Doctor."

MacKenzie smiled.

"You are very welcome, Colonel. Now I'll leave you to get some rest and think over what we have discussed. I'll make an appointment for you to see me as soon as you are released. We have more to talk about."

"Okay."

Jack managed to smile as the doctor left the room, before falling back to the bed, suddenly exhausted.

He had a lot to think over.

Doctor MacKenzie headed straight for General Hammond's office. He knew General was waiting for his report on the Colonel's state of mind. MacKenzie would put his mind at ease. The Colonel was fine, his little crisis of conscience easily cured with a few more sessions.

The Air Force would have their killer back, just as deadly as ever, able to do his job without hesitation.

Hammond wasn't the only one he took orders from.

Now he just needed to live with himself.

When it came, the answer surprised Janet with its simplicity. The Asgard had been most apologetic; explaining that the sedative they had administered to the Colonel had been slightly stronger than required for human physiology. It had acted like a mild anaesthetic, numbing the Colonel's normal reactions to pain and stimulants. It had saved his life when O'Neill was shot. Unfortunately there was a down side - the sedative would wear off soon, and Janet was uncertain what effects it would leave.

She had the Colonel attached to every monitor in the infirmary's wide repertoire, and was watching him like a hawk. At the moment he was laying quietly, his normal impatience with being in the infirmary nowhere in evidence. He seemed to be thinking, his face pensive.

When it happened, it happened suddenly.

The monitors rang out in frantic counterpoint to the Colonel's cry. "Oh crap!"

"Colonel?" Janet hurried to his side, noting the rapid heart rate.

"It hurts, Doc." He clutched at his shoulder, pressing the bandages hard into the skin, his face becoming pale.

"Is it just your shoulder, Colonel?"

"My head feels like it's about to explode."

Janet studied the readings. This wasn't completely unexpected, in fact it seemed to be closely following one of the scenarios she had planned for. She grabbed the prepared medications, injecting them into the IV running into the Colonel's arm. Within a couple of minutes the readings returned to normal, and he shut his eyes with a sigh of relief.

"What just happened, Doc?" His voice was still a little tremulous, but his face was already regaining its colour.

She couldn't help smiling.

"That, Colonel O'Neill, was the combined result of a gunshot wound and far too much alcohol. Don't worry, I've given you some good old fashioned Earth drugs."

She could see him fighting to stay awake.

"God! I'll never drink again!" Jack moaned softly, and closed his eyes.

"I doubt that, Colonel, I doubt that" Janet muttered as she sat back down, watching the sleeping man.

"Ready to go, kids?" Jack sat impatiently in the passenger seat of Daniel's car, his long fingers drumming on his lap.

He couldn't wait to get home, only his injured shoulder preventing him from shifting into the driver's seat and leaving without them. He watched out the open window as his team walked slowly towards the vehicle.

"Can we go now?"

He saw Carter exchange a grin with Daniel and knew he had sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care. He was out of the infirmary and on his way home.

His last session with MacKenzie had confirmed his own conclusion.

He wasn't crazy. He had just been a little unwell. As the Doctor pointed out it had been only to be expected under the circumstances.

Everything was back to normal now.

His hand reached up, of its own volition, and rubbed at the scar on his neck.

Deep down inside Jack O'Neill the ice grew thicker.

The End