Part 8

This time Jack O'Neill couldn't say he was bored. He hadn't had any time to be bored. The physiotherapy necessary to bring his damaged left arm back to normal strength left him tired and he found he was barely able to crawl back into bed before falling asleep. Janet had reassured him that his fatigue was normal, given the extent of his injuries.

The wounds on his legs had healed well, but Janet was refusing to let him put any undue stress on his abused and strained knees. At least he had the cast off his broken leg and was able to get around using a wheelchair. Even that had been a victory, his burnt right hand stopping him from gripping anything for quite a while.

And hadn't that just been peachy! Look Ma, no hands. Talk about embarrassing. He was only thankful that he had been in a drugged haze for most of the time.

"Ready, Jack?"

He sat up as Daniel walked into the room, pushing the wheelchair ahead of him.

"As ever." He winced as the burns on his side pulled when he twisted. Ironically, they had been the most insidious injury, refusing to heal and causing him pain every time he moved. The four crosses were still livid against his too pale skin, a vivid reminder of his ordeal in the dungeon.

"Okay?" Daniel steadied him, helping him into the chair. After he was settled, Jack felt the weight of Daniel's hand on his shoulder and a tight squeeze before he let go.

Jack had noticed Daniel's tendency to touch him, something that the younger man had never done before except when necessary. Finally Jack had broached the subject, careful to make it clear that he didn't mind.

That was when he found out about the nightmares.

It had taken some work to get the truth out of his friend, and when he did it hadn't been surprising. He was more surprised that he had not experienced any nightmares himself, but he hadn't, his sleep at first drug assisted, and now deep with the bone tired weariness that his recovery was bringing.

Daniel's apology for leaving him in the cave had come as an even greater shock. There was nothing to apologise for.

"You're sorry?" He knew that he was still experiencing the occasional moment of confusion, especially just after taking the medication the Doc was insisting he continue until the burns and his chest wounds were completely healed, but he really had trouble following Daniel's convoluted reasoning.

"I almost got you killed, Jack. I left you there and wandered off. I should have stayed with you until rescue came."

"There could have been an exit just a short way up the tunnel. You had to go look."

"But there wasn't."

"You didn't know that, and if you had decided to stay until rescue came, we'd probably still be waiting. You're the only one that could have found that door, Daniel. You are the only one to even know such a door was a possibility. Hell - the damned Inquisitor didn't even know it was there until you left it open."

He could have bitten off his tongue when he saw Daniel's reaction to his words. The younger man had visibly flinched as if hit.

Jack had kept his voice firm and no nonsense. "You had a head injury, Daniel. You weren't thinking straight. And even if you had been, you did the right thing looking for an escape route. If you hadn't found the tunnels in the first place we would both be dead now, and the only thing Ferretti and the others would have rescued would have been two bodies. Sure, you left the door open, but what would have happened if you hadn't? Would you have managed to tell the others where it was? I doubt I could have held out much longer, in fact I think I had pretty well given up by the time Yleek showed up. You don't have a thing to apologise for. I should be thanking you, because without you, I'd be dead."

"I should have been able to explain things to them. I should have made them listen." Daniel's voice had been miserable. "It's my job, and I couldn't even manage that."

"Oh for crying out loud, Daniel!" Jack's outraged tone finally brought Daniel's head up from its slumped position. "No one could have talked their way out of there, not even you. Those people were fanatics. You couldn't expect to just waltz in, tell them their beliefs were wrong, and have them accept it. They were prepared to die for their beliefs, you can't expect rational argument to win against that." He had reached out then and shaken Daniel's arm gently. "You don't need to apologise. You kept us alive."

"I almost didn't, Jack. I keep remembering how I felt when I got back and found you gone. I lost you."

"What am I, some sort of puppy or something?" Daniel had smiled slightly at that. "You didn't lose me. I lost myself. If I had been thinking straight I wouldn't have wandered off, but I wasn't and I did, and it all worked out in the end. We're back, we're home, and we'll recover and go back out and do it all over again if we have to, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather do that with than you, Carter and Teal'c."

Jack had been shocked by Daniel's response to his words. He hadn't said anything, just turned away slightly for a brief moment. He had been smiling when he turned back.

Things had gone back to normal after that talk. His team had kept Jack company whenever possible. Now he was a little more mobile, he had taken to meeting them for lunch whenever he could. His lack of appetite hadn't been helped by the infirmary food, so the Doc had given grudging permission for him to make the trip to the Mess Hall, as long as he was helped. She had made it clear that she didn't want any more damage done to his healing hand, and that he had to be pushed. Jack had reluctantly agreed, hating the thought of being wheeled through the SGC halls, but acknowledging the necessity.

There were more people than usual in the Mess Hall when they finally got there, meaning that several diners had to move their seats to make room for the wheelchair to get through the small gap between the tables. By the time he arrived at the table where Teal'c and Carter were sitting, Jack had worked himself into a foul mood.

He didn't give them time to speak before snapping at them. "Why couldn't you have picked a table closer to the door?" He busied himself manoeuvring the chair into position, keeping his head down.

"This is our usual table, O'Neill. There were fewer people here when we arrived and we did not anticipate there would be a problem."

Jack acknowledged Teal'c's words with a grunt.

"Can I get you a coffee, sir?"

"Yes please, Carter. Unless of course you would all rather watch me trying to balance one on the arm of my chair while moving."

Jack regretted his words the moment he said them. There was no reason to be snapping at his team like this. He couldn't even blame his enforced stay in the infirmary, for once he wasn't bored.

He sat, hemmed in by the uncomfortable silence, as his team busied themselves trying to think of something to say that wouldn't result in getting their heads bitten off.

He didn't seem to be able to keep a hold on his temper, keep it reined in, and even he acknowledged that an angry Jack O'Neill was a dangerous Jack O'Neill.

Jack fiddled with the edge of his shirt as he forced himself to say the words. "Sorry, kids. I guess I'm not feeling very social today." He looked up in time to catch the concerned glances being exchanged by his companions.

"I'll get that coffee, sir." He acknowledged Carter's words with a nod and watched as she moved towards the serving counter, smiling greetings at several people as she did so. She collected the coffee and began to return, but was, to Jack's irritation, stopped by some of the members of SG-10. She rested his coffee on the table at which they were sitting, chatting to Lieutenant Jarlic as she did so. Jack felt a surge of anger at her actions. By the time Carter got back, his drink would be barely warm. He hated cold coffee, she knew that.

Teal'c and Daniel seemed oblivious to the whole thing. They had begun a desultory conversation between themselves, totally ignoring Carter.

Jack clenched his fist under the cover of the table top, feeling the pain as his left arm tensed in sympathy. He felt his pulse begin to race, and tried to take steady calming breaths.

Shit! He was losing it here.

With an abrupt motion he pushed himself away from the table and began turning the wheelchair. He had to get out, before he did something he would regret.

"Jack? What's wrong?"

He spat out the answer. "Nothing, Daniel. I'm just tired of waiting for my coffee. I'll see you later." He started across the room, finding it almost impossible to manoeuvre the chair with one hand.

"Allow me to help, O'Neill." Two large hands gripped the handles and began pushing, giving him no chance to argue.

Jack saw Carter's startled stare as they left the room, and felt the anger leave him as quickly as it had appeared.

"Take me to my quarters, please Teal'c."

There was a pause before the reply came. "Should you not return to the infirmary?"

"I want a bit of privacy for a while, without people disturbing me all the time. I'd like you to take me to my quarters." Jack could feel the anger rising again, but he pushed it ruthlessly down, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

"Very well, O'Neill."

It didn't take long to reach his quarters, but it seemed interminable to Jack. He managed to return the greetings of the personnel they passed in the corridors, keeping up a semblance of good humour, but by the time Teal'c was opening the door, he was almost shaking with tension.

He knew that his dismissal of Teal'c with an order to come and get him in an hour was rude and abrupt, but he didn't care. As he shut the door, he saw the small signs of hurt that he would have been one of the few to recognise in the Jaffa, and for a moment he hesitated, almost reopening the door. Instead he turned away.

By the time Jack was lying on the bed, he was trembling, not all of it a reaction to the effort and pain it took him to walk a few steps. He shut his eyes, relishing the solitude, even if he knew it could not last.

He had no idea why he was so angry. It was as if there was a huge pool of despair inside him, too deep to be explored. The anger was irrational, but it was there none the less. He had already done the obligatory sessions with McKenzie, sessions that resulted in a mutual agreement that Jack did not need to see the psychiatrist again. Both men had parted breathing heartfelt thanks.

Jack hadn't been conscious for most of the torture - hell, he hadn't even known everything that had been done to him until he woke up in the SGC. It seemed almost unreal now, like someone else's dream. He had no issues with what had happened. He accepted it, and moved on.

He stretched down and carefully rubbed the healing brands. They itched constantly, sending little messages of pain through his nerves at the most inconvenient times. He tugged at his shirt, fumbling to pull it from his waistband, then sat up a little and peered at the scars, twisting his torso around. Four crosses. The word ironic kept coming to mind whenever he thought of them. The symbol of redemption burnt into his flesh by a fanatic.

Jack pulled the drawer of his bedside table open, groping around the interior without looking. Finally his hand found the small box stuck up into the back corner and pulled it out. The faded black velvet had a sheen of dust upon it, and he rubbed it on the sheet before resting it on his chest and opening the lid. Nestled in white satin was a gold cross, delicate cross-hatched etching marking each arm. He pulled it out, and held it up, letting the thin chain dangle through his fingers.

His father had worn this until the day he had been taken to hospital, the nurses handing it to Jack with an explanation that no jewellery was permitted. He had stuffed it in his pocket, wanting to argue, but for once knowing that it wasn't the time. He remembered the thin brittle fingers clutching his, hearing the high, strained voice telling him to wear it when he was gone.

That it would protect him and keep him safe.

That he should give it to his own son.

He had kept it safe, not able to wear it on missions in the Middle East, but feeling closer to the memory of his father just knowing that it was there.

A single shot on a bright, blue summer day had shattered his belief in its protection.

Jack clenched his hand, his eyes shut tightly against the memory.

He hadn't thrown the cross away. It had been intertwined so completely with his father's life that to throw it away was inconceivable. Instead, Jack had shut it away, almost as if in punishment. He had occasionally taken it out, never opening the box again, just as a reminder of the fickleness of life, fate, whatever you wanted to call it. He had found it forgotten in his jacket pocket when he changed back into his uniform after he had been recalled to duty. The drawer in his newly assigned quarters had been as convenient a place to keep it as any. There it had stayed locked in the dark.

Now he was the one being punished. He would bear these crosses for life, and there was no way that he could hide them away. They would be there whenever he looked, as much a part of him as this gold cross had been a part of his father.

Choice had been taken from him, punished for his act of rebellion against his father's religion. He returned the cross to its container.

The soft knock at his door made him jerk in surprise, knocking the velvet box off his chest and onto the bed.

"Jack? You in there?" Jack recognised the voice as Lou Ferretti's. Lou had visited him in the infirmary when he and his team had returned from the planet, but Jack could only remember the hushed tones, none of what was said. He didn't think he had been capable of saying anything. Later he found out that SG-2 were on an extended off world mission and weren't expected back for some time.

They were obviously back now.

"Yeah. Come in." Jack struggled to pull himself upright on the bed, as the door was pushed open and the short, sandy haired man entered the room. He groped for the box as he did so, unable to find it in the tangle of sheets and blankets.

"Teal'c told me you were here, hiding out. Did I wake you?"

"No." Jack gestured to the chair. "Sit down." He rested his back against the wall. "How was the mission?"

Lou leaned forward, his gaze appraising. "Fine. In fact, boring. You know how it is. Tests, walking, tents, more tests. What about you?"

Jack noticed where he was looking and tugged his shirt down, hiding the brands. The position he was in was putting too much strain on his left shoulder and he grimaced, unable to hide his discomfort.

"You okay?" Lou had obviously noticed.

For a second Jack thought of lying, and then he thought better of it. There was no point trying to hide anything from Ferretti. Lou had been there. He had seen what Yleek had done to him. Hell - he probably knew the details better than Jack did himself; he had seen Jack's injuries in glorious technicolour.

"No. Give me a hand to lie down." Jack took the offered arm, letting Lou steady him as he moved back down to lie full length on the bed again. He gave a grunt as he relaxed into the mattress. "That's better."

"So, Jack, how are you?" Lou returned to his original question.

"Sore, but I'm okay."

"Really? That's not what I've heard."

Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He stared straight into Ferretti's eyes, willing him to get up and go. He just managed to grate out a question. "Who've you been talking to? Daniel? Carter?" He began to swing his legs off the bed, ready to leave. There was a soft thump as the small black box fell to the floor, its lid coming open as it did so.

Lou bent to pick it up, the cross falling out. He straightened, holding the necklace gently in his hand, waited for a moment, and then spoke.

"Jack, can I ask you a question?"

Jack answered with a nod.

"Jack, I know you're angry, but..." He kept his eyes down, staring at the cross.

Jack cut Ferretti's words short. "Damn right I am." To his surprise, Jack found himself giving an honest answer again, his voice raised almost to a shout. "I'm furious."

"Why?"

It was a simple question, but he didn't have an answer for Lou, any more than he had for himself. "That's just it. I don't know."

Lou looked up, his usually smiling face utterly serious. "I think I do. For the same reason that I was."

"Sorry, Lou. You've lost me." Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache was forming and he could tell it would be a brutal one. He wasn't in the mood for riddles.

"You're angry that what was done to you was done in the name of God."

Jack lowered his hand and glared at the other man. "Why the hell should I be angry about that? I don't care whose name it was done in."

"Don't you?" Ferretti held the cross out, dangling from its chain. "Maybe you should put this away again then."

Jack took the necklace and clenched his fist around it, holding it tightly.

Was it as simple as that?

"Jack." Lou interrupted his thoughts and he dragged his gaze away from his hand to meet the eyes of the other man. "They say God works in mysterious ways. These ways weren't mysterious, they were pure evil. There was nothing of God in what Yleek did. But I do believe that it was God that sent us there, to end the evil done in His name. Who knows how many people we saved from being tortured in the future. You have every right to be angry. But don't blame God. Blame the man that used his name." He pointed to the brands still visible through the slightly open shirt. "Don't see them as a mark of evil, see them as a reminder of what you did, of the freedom your ordeal brought to so many people, perhaps in time, to the whole planet."

"That's easy for you to say..."

Lou interrupted Jack's angry retort. "No it isn't. It isn't easy at all. I saw what they did to you. Do you think it was easy to stay there and help them? But I did, because it was the right thing to do. It wasn't easy, but it was right."

Jack shut his eyes, keeping the memories of Yleek's words in tight. "He said I was damned. That my soul was stained. Perhaps he was right."

He had done so many things that he was ashamed of over the years, caused so much pain to so many people. He opened his hand. The cross shone in the light.

"You know he wasn't. In your heart you know that. That's why you were angry. You took his lies into your heart, knowing them to be false."

Jack looked up in surprise. "Getting poetic in your old age, Ferretti?"

Lou smiled back "I've had a lot more time to think about this than you have." He stood up. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time I got you back to the infirmary, before the Doc comes baying for blood." At Jack's nod he leaned forward, taking the weight of the taller man as he pulled him upright. "Come on, Colonel Sir, your carriage awaits."

Jack smiled the first genuine smile since they had set foot on that planet. "I'll just be a minute, there's something I need to do." He opened the clasp of the chain and placed it around his neck, closing it and tucking the cross into the front of his shirt.

He smiled. Pater Yleek had been right after all.

His soul had been redeemed.

The End