Darkness Hides the Hunter – Part Eight
"Well, Doctor?" General Hammond sat forward in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on the polished surface of his desk. "Were the samples SG-8 brought back of any help?"
Janet Fraiser nodded, opening the file she was holding as she leaned back, resting herself more comfortably on the padded cushion of the visitor's chair. "Yes, sir. SG-8 collected samples from the cavern Colonel O'Neill fell into, and retrieved his uniform from the campsite. They also tried to capture one of the creatures from the cave, but they weren't successful."
"Is that a problem?" The General interrupted, "Should I send a team to make another attempt."
"No, sir. I don't think it will be necessary." Janet pointed at the pages of data in front of her. "I have everything I need here." She rubbed her hand over the back of her neck, before straightening. When she spoke it was in the crisp tone she used when presenting a report. "The lab results confirm my suspicions that the Colonel's condition is a direct result of his contact with the flying creatures. His blood work shows signs of something similar, but not identical, to bat lyssavirus – a rabies like infection found in bats in Australia. It's contracted through contact with saliva, especially if it gets into the eyes, nose or mouth or into scratches on the hands. Unfortunately, given what Colonel O'Neill told his team about the creature clinging to his face, and the scratches on his hands and scalp, it appears that the virus had plenty of opportunities to take hold."
"And the treatment?"
"That's just it, sir." The doctor's hand came up again, but she stopped it before it made contact, instead concentrating her gaze on the General. "Normally I would administer the rabies vaccine, but this is an off world virus. The symptoms are dissimilar and I'm not sure the vaccine will work, so I'm reluctant to try it except as a last resort."
"What do you suggest then, Doctor?"
Hammond could see the tiredness he felt reflected in the Doctor Fraiser's face, as she paused, once again looking down at the report as if drawing inspiration from it.
"I'd like to run some tests using variations of the rabies vaccine, sir, before trying them on the Colonel. At the moment his physical condition seems stable, although he does appear to be in some discomfort, whether it's from his fractured shoulder, or from the virus itself, it's hard to say." She smiled ruefully. "And he certainly isn't telling."
The General shifted uncomfortably. "What about his mental state?"
Janet sighed. "The periods of normality are getting longer." She stopped, finally looking up into his eyes. "But it's very hard to tell what his mental state is, sir. The only time he speaks is when the other personality surfaces, and then I wish he wouldn't." She visibly shuddered.
Hammond thought for a moment. "Is the virus contagious, as we first feared?"
"No, sir. Not if normal protection against contact with bodily fluids is taken. There is certainly nothing physical to prevent anyone visiting the Colonel. But.." She paused once again, "...I don't feel that it would be in Colonel O'Neill's or his team's best interests to have them exposed to the alternate personality, especially after their experience on the planet. I also recommend that he be kept in isolation to minimise his contact with other members of the SGC"
Hammond nodded his agreement. "I agree, but it wasn't his team I had in mind, Doctor." He stood, waiting for the woman to get to her feet, and then gestured her ahead of him. "I'll go see him now. It's about time I found out exactly what we are dealing with here – and I don't mean the virus."
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"I realised that we haven't been introduced. I'm General Hammond. I'm in command of this facility."
His suspicion that it was the other personality in control was confirmed as soon as the dark eyes opened. There was no surprise in them. It was obvious that the other man had been aware of his presence from the very moment George entered the room. He looked up to the observation window and nodded at the watching doctor, getting an answering nod in return.
He waited, then continued. "And you are?"
"Jack." The voice was dry from disuse.
"That's it? Just Jack?"
"That's all you'll ever need to know." This time the distain was obvious.
Hammond watched as a small bead of sweat rolled slowly down the man's face to soak into the pillow.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Only that I'm in the hands of the enemy." Another drop began to make its way along the same path as the first. "There's no point in this. I'm not going to tell you anything."
Hammond leaned in and spoke softly. "Well that's where you're wrong, son. You see, I happen to know exactly who you are, and somewhere inside, I think that you know too."
"I don't know what sort of mind game you're trying to play, but it isn't going to work." The Colonel looked like he was going to speak again when his face suddenly twisted, and he gave a low cry.
"Doctor?" Hammond turned to the window, only to find the woman had already gone. He wasn't surprised when, a very short few seconds later, the door to the isolation room opened, and she entered. He stepped back to allow her better access to her patient.
She gave the monitors a puzzled look as she placed a hand on the Colonel's forehead, ignoring the shake he gave to try and toss it off.
"His temperature is up." She turned her eyes to the supine man. "How are you feeling, sir?"
The answer was ground out. "Fine. Now leave me the hell alone."
"It's obvious that you aren't okay, and it would help if you told me if you're in any pain," Janet replied in an exasperated tone.
"You're the doctor. You tell me."
Hammond could see the anger rising in the other man, the telltale signs of tension as the deceptively lanky body tensed like a coiled spring. "Now, Jack." The general pushed forward, putting himself between the Doctor and the Colonel.
"I just want you to..."
He felt the hard stab into his throat before the sentence was completed, the blood rushing to his head as he struggled for air.
He could hear his own gasps and over it, coldly spoken words, each one firmly and clearly emphasised.
"...To. Go. Away."
He reeled back, clutching at his throat, sucking gulps of air into his lungs. Hands lead him a few steps and he felt the familiar shape of a chair behind his knees and sat, still panting and attempting to work out what had just happened.
A moan of pain finally pulled his attention to the nearby bed. Two guards were trying to hold the thrashing form of his second. One of his hands was free of its restraint and the SF guards were struggling to hold it, despite the Colonel's injury. George could see the pain the other man was in as the guards put pressure on him, holding him down.
"Hold him still," Doctor Fraiser ordered. She held a needle high, waiting, and leapt in as soon as an opportunity allowed, pressing it home.
Hammond stood, shaking off the hands of the nurse next to him, and watched as Jack finally slumped into a drug-induced sleep.
He rubbed a hand across his throat and swallowed a few times before speaking. "Would someone care to explain what just happened?' He looked at the thick straps anchoring the man to his bed. "How in God's name did he get loose?"
Janet disposed of the needle and hurried over, sitting him down again. "Let me look at that, sir." Her gentle hands started examining the aching spot on his throat where Jack had hit him. "Are you having any difficulty breathing?"
"No, it's just a bit sore." He shook his head. "I'm surprised. I don't doubt that he struck to kill."
"I want you to have an x-ray though, General. Just to be on the safe side." She gestured to the nurse that had helped him.
"Wait." Hammond held up a hand. "How is Colonel O'Neill?"
Even as his words hit the air, she was already moving towards the bed. Bending forward she gave a small gasp of astonishment before she turned and held up Colonel O'Neill's right hand. "He dislocated his thumb, sir."
Hammond stared at the misshapen thumb, grimacing. Although he had heard that technique could be used for escaping from handcuffs and other bonds, he had never seen it used before. No wonder Jack's blow to his throat had been weak.
George allowed himself to be led off as Janet's staff reattached the straps. He shook his head. Even sick and hurting, Jack had almost managed to escape.
The sheer willpower and determination of the man was amazing.
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He woke slowly, his head filled with images. Dreams.
Not dreams!
His eyes snapped open, and he struggled to sit up, turning his head, searching.
"Jack...Jack...calm down."
Daniel's voice came from across the room, but he couldn't see him, he couldn't lift his head high enough. Something was across his throat.
He still struggled, straining against whatever was holding him down, but there was no give in the thick band around his neck.
"Sir. Try to relax." Janet's voice, bringing with a rush of warmth through his veins.
He saw his hand stab out. Saw the General fall.
Oh god!
Not dreams.
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The three members of SG-1 met, without their leader, in Daniel's office five days after their return to the SGC. The ritual of making coffee completed, they each sat in thought, sipping the strong brew.
Sam finally broke the silence, putting her mug down on the edge of the cluttered desk and sighing deeply.
"It is good news."
Daniel cupped both hands around the oversized mug that he had claimed as his own years before, and stared at the surface of the liquid.
"Yes. It is." He couldn't raise the energy to pretend to be enthusiastic. The General had been only bruised by Jack's attack. He was already out of the infirmary and back in his office, sipping a homemade honey laced concoction that he swore would be better for his throat than any of Janet's medicine. It was good news, but it wasn't enough. Daniel wanted someone to come tell them that Jack had woken up in his right mind, all traces of the fever and vomiting that now wracked his body completely gone. Daniel wanted a Jack that wasn't confused, and when he wasn't asleep, a Jack that didn't spit evil words at them.
Daniel wanted his Jack back.
Janet had warned them all that the symptoms were settling into a more recognisable pattern now. Encephalitis. She was confident that a cure was just around the corner, but, Daniel thought, it better not be too far around the corner, because Janet had then proceeded to tell them just how seriously ill Jack was.
Daniel lifted his head from his perusal of the coffee as Teal'c stood. The big man paced the few short steps to the closed office door and stood there, an uncharacteristic frown of uncertainty on his face.
"I need to be with O'Neill." There was a questioning note in the words, as if Teal'c was unsure of exactly what he was saying.
It was Sam who answered, her quick mind understanding well before Daniel could drag his tired brain into logical thought processes.
"I know, but Janet is right. We can't do anything, and we should try and rest."
"So why aren't we resting?" Daniel gave a quick laugh, unable to keep the cynicism from his voice.
Teal'c turned back, sat down again, and picked up his discarded mug.
"I need to be with O'Neill."
Daniel looked down at his coffee.
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He felt like he had run the marathon.
Twice.
His muscles aches, his bones ached, hell – even his face ached. And the headache – least said about that the better.
"Doc?"
Was that his voice? What had happened to it? Had he died and been reincarnated as a strip of sandpaper?
"Colonel?"
Not the doc, but she was coming. He'd recognise those footsteps anywhere.
He wrenched his eyes open, catching a quick glimpse of the familiar figure, before slamming them shut again.
Crap! When had the infirmary got aircraft landing lights installed? His stomach rolled, and Jack knew that if Janet shone that damn penlight of hers into his eyes, he'd throw up all over her.
"Don't try to open your eyes again, sir, until I've had the infirmary lights turned down."
Maybe she was telepathic?
Jack could just pick out the softly spoken orders to a nurse, before the Doc's voice came closer, as if she was leaning over him.
"I know it's hard, Colonel, but I want you to try and stay awake for me. Can you do that?"
He nodded, the movement setting off the percussion band in his head, and he couldn't help the low groan. A hand gently squeezed his arm.
"Stay still, and open your eyes very slowly. Don't rush it."
The word 'rush' definitely wasn't in his vocabulary at the moment. He opened his eyelids a fraction of an inch at a time.
The lights were turned down, but even so, he winched at the brightness.
"Do you know where you are, Colonel?"
He could answer that one.
"Infirmary."
Janet smiled down at him. "Yes, sir. Now, I'll give you something to help with the headache in a minute, but first there are some visitors who want to see you."
"Hey, Jack." That was Daniel. He must know about the headache too, because he was almost whispering.
"Sir." Carter, standing next to Daniel.
And the third one of the trio. Teal'c, his taller form behind the others. "It is good to see you awake, O'Neill."
"Okay?" Already he felt the tug of sleep.
"We're fine, sir. We're on stand down until you get better."
Get better? He must have been sick.
That was odd. He didn't remember.
Jack felt the slight pull as the IV was adjusted, and knew Janet had made good on her promise.
He snuggled his head into the pillow, sighing in contentment as the headache drifted away. He heard the sound of quiet footsteps leaving as he fell back asleep again.
TBC
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