DARK EMBRACE CHAPTER EIGHT

For the first two weeks Jack recoiled at any touch. It was not their normal Colonel who usually was there for a gentle touch to reassure others. His silence was more than from the wired jaws. C J has watched as the silver haired warrior had flinched at Major Carter's voice. There was also his unconscious touching of his neck, a hand resting over the wounds as if to protect his scared neck. Once, Jack had been a figure held in awe and respect but now he was battered and bruised, physically and emotionally and the entire SCG suffered from his diminished presence, his restored health anxiously awaited.

Daniel and Sam hoped their good-natured teasing would bring their CO out of the shadows. It did or for appearance sake it seemed that it had that effect on him. But the lingering ghosts were there: the same gray shadows they had seen after Cromwell died, after the reporter was run over, when he had pretended to go bad so he could expose an NID covert group, the signs that Jack had paid some big price again, another dent in his armor, another windmill or dragon tilted at could not be dismissed. Even after the bruising had disappeared dark circles remained under his eyes, from lack of sleep, pain and the some unspoken torture. They were not aware of Jack's frequent dreams wherein he was again making passionate love to Camazotz in the guise of Sam, allowing her to feast off his blood, and she would feed him hers.

By week four he ran out of painkillers, a prescription that should have lasted at least two more, gone. Jack had done the strapped down to a bed, screaming thing and wasn't going to do it again. There would be no more painkillers, he would just have to add these new nightmares to his collection and move on. True to his personality, the wounded animal crawled off alone to suffer and heal. A weekend at the Minnesota cabin and the throes of withdrawal were handled alone while sitting on the dock staring at the pond that had no pesky fish. Jack spent the time exposing himself to the elements to cleanse away the traces of the Goa'uld. Other time was spent curled in a ball damning that snakehead bitch for tainting those special images of the cornflower blue eyes, golden silk spun hair and succulent peach lips of a specific Air Force officer that he cared too much for; desired too much; denied himself of. The throes of withdrawal purged Jack's unnatural lust for Camazotz along with his bodies craving for the painkillers; at least he prayed it had.

Upon his return to the SGC Hammond found Jack busy work, planning missions, reviewing new candidates from the Academy, and other administrative duties assigned to the Second in Command of the SGC. If he didn't get himself court marshaled or killed Jack, was Hammond's most likely successor and it was times like this when both were reminded of that fact. During this time the rest of his team chose other endeavors. Carter had spent her down time working on a book, Daniel was off overseeing several digs on various planets, and Teal'c was with his son Rey'ac All distancing themselves from Jack, waiting for the signal, a smile, a touch from him to declare his completed recovery.

By week six Jack had been finally able to disassociate Carter's voice with the nightmares of Camazotz and was anxious to return to full duty and O'Malley's for a celebratory steak once his jaw was unwired. Milk shakes, protein drinks, food supplements, and beer had been a steady and mostly healthy diet for as many weeks and now the thought of a bowl of oatmeal was elevated to a level reserved for pheasant under glass. He had lost weight and had moved from lanky to gaunt. Jack had remained under the close scrutiny of Janet and CJ for any signs of a melt down. Janet hoped that it wasn't going to happen and that the Colonel had once again beaten it. CJ was impressed but not convinced. Hammond was waiting for the other combat boot to drop.

Hammond watched the boot hit the deck when Jack had erupted on a nurse for delivering the news that surgery for the removal of the wires in his jaw had been delayed for a day. The temper, that was usually restrained, was freed in jaw clenched rapid-fire profanity causing the nurse to flee in teary-eyed fear. Jack had knocked the files off his desk and then turned the heavy desk over before he had stalked out of the SGC. As he drove off he had nearly run over a SF in his speedy getaway. It was time Hammond knew to make an unscheduled visit to his 2IC at home.

The sky was a sable blanket spattered with twinkling stars, stars which had worlds orbiting them, which had star gates on them, that had Goa'ulds occupying and enslaving the inhabitants. Their job was out there. But for this moment he was only concerned with Earth's sole moon, which was full and seemed to illuminate the roof of Jack's house as he pulled his personal car into the driveway.

Hammond climbed the ladder and spotted Jack sitting on the deck his back against the railing, a full bottle of Irish whiskey in his left hand and his 9mm Beretta in the other, both arms across his knees which were pulled up against his chest

"Jack?' George asked sitting down in the one chair at the telescope.

"Can't decide which one I want more." Jack held up each as if to show them for inspection, his voice languid, without hope, spoken through his clamped teeth.

"What did you leave out of your report?"

Jack cocked his head and tried to look innocent. It wasn't going to work; he shook his head knowing that the Hammond had been on to him since they had brought him back out of retirement after Apophis had invaded the SGC.

"She seduced me, used me." It was a pained whisper. "Made me think it was someone else." A jagged breath and he continued. "She wanted to make me her First Prime." He scrubbed the hand holding the sidearm through his gray hair, then held the cool black metal to his temple.

"Go on."

"Said I would always be hers, she'd tasted me, drank away my strength and resolve," Jack paused, barely ready to accept the truth of his next sentence. "It was different from Iraq. Part of me was ready to give in to her, wanted to."

"She was killing you Jack, bleeding you to death."

Jack rubbed the heel of his right hand into his eye, still clutching the sidearm. "I turned the staff weapon on her. I never saw the kids. The bitch used three kids as a shield. I killed! Jesus! I murdered two of them." His anger, disgust, and bottomless quilt could barely be contained behind his wired jaws.

Hammond reseated himself to Jack's left and took the bottle from him.

"We bombed and strafed innocent villages full of women and children in 'Nam. All because someone back in Saigon thought there might be VC there or they needed to up the body count for the stateside network news." Hammond took a deep swig. "You tried not to think about it, denied it was happening. The only difference Jack is you saw the faces. I did it with a push of a button, detached impersonal, until you saw the carnage you created with a bomb or missile you didn't accept responsibility, you were arrogantly indifferent." The General up ended the bottle again. "Then one day I was in a village and held the mutilated bodies of two little girls about the same age as my grand daughters. Killed by our bombs, the bombs I was dropping. They were someone's grand daughters and our bombs had . . . ." Hammond could say no more. No description was necessary.

Jack slipped the safety back on the Beretta and set it down on the deck. Hammond sighed and shared the moonlight with his 2IC. The bottle and the Beretta ignored as each man pondered their personally perceived horrors. Hammond's simple admission had been the down payment on the purchase price for a silver haired Colonel's soul.

EPILOGUE I

The interloper and her minion were gone. The silver haired stranger, who had stepped through the shimmering circle of water, had caused it by his heroic escape from her clutches; He had seen and heard it all. She had panicked, knowing the stranger represented other off worlders that would not submit so easily, who could and would bring about her destruction.

The planet was his again, and he had a thirst that needed to be quenched. Taking to wing he flew through the night to seek his prey. The village elder stood waiting for him in the central square, alone and illuminated by the moonlight.

Ivanyn, as his forefathers had done centuries before, bared his throat and submitted to the precise bite. It was the way of their world, a gesture of good faith between the two species; one would submit, the other would only take as needed when other prey could not be found. Once again Ivanyn and his people would rebuild the herd of cattle that the Opyr would feed on.

He released the young man from his embrace when he was just sated. It was good that his people could again be free to walk the nights. Perhaps if the silver haired warrior ever returned he would have to thank him, he would know him instantly by the scent and taste of his blood. But would the warrior understand? He turned and bowed to the villager, in silent thanks. His eyes glowed red as he melted into the darkness alive and free again.

Epilogue II

The need to escape was a set back, but one easily recovered from, it was perhaps the impetus she had needed to begin her return among the System Lords. She had to reclaim her rightful standing and no longer be exiled to the backwater planets. And he had been the one she had waited for.

As her ship traveled in hyperspace Camazotz stretched out languidly on her throne, waiting to feed. Her faithful Jaffa knelt in front of her and offered his neck to his Queen. She sank her fangs into his throat and drank her fill. The Jaffa blood, while hot and fresh could not compare to the taste of the silver haired Tauri. Oh, yes she knew of him, O'Neill, killer of Ra and as he had told her of her ancient enemy Hathor. There would come a day, soon when she would reclaim him, he would stand at her side and see their children being implanted in her new

Jaffa army. Already, she could feel a new generation gestating with in her.

Now, she would have to find a new base of operations from which she could send out her Jaffa to gather their brothers to her. Once brought to her she would have their symbiotes destroyed and replaced with her offspring. Camazotz would reserve the strongest for O'Neill. Her hosts' body throbbed with the recalled sensation of their merged bodies, his mastery of the fragile wanton human body and the pleasure he had given it.

He would always be hers. He had drunk of her blood; never would he lose the hunger for its taste. O'Neill would one day come to her, to be hers again, his mouth anxious to taste all of her. It was only a matter of time till he was again in her dark embrace.

Finis

SEQUEL IS CRIMSON MADNESS NOW BEING WRITTEN!