Part Six
Jack slowly rose up out of the dullness, feeling an ache in his chest and a darkness in his mind that made him wonder if it might not have been better to stay in the limbo he had strived so hard to leave. Gradually the familiar smells and sounds of the infirmary proved to him that he wasn't dead at all, that somehow they had brought him back despite the vivid memory he had of his heart being wrenched from his body.
It was extremely strange, when he had been so positive he had died.
Unless, of course, this was some sort of hell – a punishment for annoying the medical staff so much. Maybe God had a very warped sense of humor.
Testing the boundaries of his delusion, he tried moving, quickly finding it wasn't a good idea at all if the pain shooting up his arm was anything to go by.
"Colonel?"
So the delusion came with a sound track.
He opened his eyes, finding Doctor Fraiser six inches from his face, her penlight at the ready.
He instinctively shut his eyes, only to have the lids pulled up and the light shone in them anyway. His protest died in his throat, stifled by a hard obstruction.
"You're intubated, sir. Try to relax."
Relax? All he knew was confusion. How could he relax when he had no idea what was going on?
The Doc bent closer, and began speaking slowly, as if to a child. For once he didn't mind; as it was he found it hard to pull the meaning of each word from his mind before the next one arrived.
"Your team is safe. You're back at the SGC."
Damn, but she was getting good at this. Way too much practice.
"You have some serious injuries, and you need to stay as calm and still as possible."
What sort of injuries? He remembered being laid out on that accused altar while pieces were carved from him. He remembered…not a lot more actually….except. He raised a hand, seeing it swathed in heavy bandages, and groped at his chest, searching for the hole he knew had to be there.
Another hand gripped his own and he found it surprisingly impossible to stop it from pushing his back down.
"One of the injuries was to your chest, Colonel. You have a deep stab wound very close to your heart."
He nodded his understanding. That explained the ache in his chest. The rest must have been a very realistic nightmare. He settled back into the bed, feeling the seductive call of the drugs coursing through his system, and drifted back to sleep.
xoxoxoxoxo
"So as soon as we left the planet, the energy drain stopped." Daniel's voice ground to a halt, and Jack opened his eyes to look quizzically at his friend. "Sorry, I thought you might have fallen asleep again."
He shook his head, not blaming the other man for thinking that. It seemed that all he had done over the past few days was sleep. The Doc had explained that his tiredness was because he had had, to all intents and purposes, most of the symptoms of a massive heart attack, and his body was still recovering.
"From what I can work out, sir, the High Priest was using converted Goa'uld technology to drain this energy from his victims. I wish I could have got a look at the machine." Carter paused, and reddened slightly. "Sorry."
"That's okay, Captain." He summoned up a smile. "I understand that it was the scientist in you speaking."
"It is good to see you recovering so quickly, O'Neill. We were concerned that your injuries were permanent." Teal'c ignored the horrified looks his two teammates cast in his direction, continuing. "The damage caused by heart failure could have meant your retirement."
"True, T. Now I just have to pass the medical board."
Jack thought about what the Doc had told him. It wouldn't be quite as easy as he made out, but there was no way he was going to let his team worry about him. It had been a very close call, and he was in for an extended sick leave before he got back to active duty. Fortunately, the damage wasn't permanent, however nothing was certain yet. Despite his attempt to conceal his concern, going by their reaction to his words, the others must have picked up on it.
"I'm sure you'll be fine, sir."
"Yes, Jack. You just need to rest up, and then we'll help you get back in shape, no problem."
Jack lifted an eyebrow. "No problem, Doctor Jackson? This is from the man who can barely drag himself from bed before noon?"
Jack lay back, enjoying just listening to his team's banter as Daniel protested his lack of zeal when it came to exercise. He closed his eyes, and didn't even notice when they tiptoed from the room.
xoxoxoxoxo
The voice was low and soft – a seductive whisper that pulled him gently from his dreams.
"Colonel."
She bent, touching him, sweeping her hands across his chest, circling the gapping hole, her fingers light.
"Lie still."
Her black hair shone, her unlined face smiled, and her eyes sparkled with life. He did as she asked, lying still, too tired, far too tired to move, but knowing that he should.
He should stop her. This wasn't right.
So he captured her hands in his, and felt the wetness of fresh blood. And as he let them go, he saw the skin peeling back from them until all that remained was raw flesh and the smell of putrefaction.
His throat seized and he yanked himself back, huddled against the bedrail.
"Colonel? Sir?" Nurse Coglin stopped, one hand holding the wet sponge, the other a bowl of water. "I'm sorry. I tried to wake you."
Jack slowed his frantic breathing, and forced himself to relax, sliding back down the bed. "It's okay."
"I just need to clean the area around your chest and stomach wounds, sir, before changing the dressings. I won't be too much longer."
He nodded, and watched as the pretty, young nurse carefully wiped her sponge against his skin.
Doing as she was ordered to do. Doing it happily.
He shivered.
"Sorry, Colonel, I'll get some warmer water."
"No, it's okay. It's fine." He shut his eyes, trying to forget.
xoxoxoxoxo
Jack sat in the booth at the back of the coffee shop wishing that it wasn't so damned hot. Outside the sun baked the pavement, and people hurried to get back into the air-conditioned buildings. He turned the mug in his hands, almost tempted to get a cold drink instead, but knowing that he needed the caffeine. Weeks of leave, combined with a self imposed exercise routine that he was sure would have Doctor Fraiser furious if she ever found out, had left him here, suddenly, unexpectedly, and completely, exhausted. He had barely made it into the shop, slumping into the seat, his grocery buying forgotten.
The coffee felt sour on his tongue, but he swallowed, savouring the kick, watching the thick, black beverage swirl around as he put the cup back on the table.
"Jack?"
He had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, confirmed when he lifted his head to meet the startled eyes of his ex-wife.
"Sara." She stared down at him, her floral print dress tightly hugging her curves, her blond hair falling softly around her face. She didn't look a day older than the last time he had seen her. "Sit down." He gestured to the empty seat across from him, and she slid into it, her gaze still fixed on his face.
"God, Jack, what happened?" She brushed her hair back with her left hand, hooking it behind her ear.
He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the waitress, but it was only a short reprieve before Sara's attention was once again turned to him. She reached out, gently tracing the scars on his face.
"Don't tell me it was a training accident."
"Okay." He dropped his eyes, sipping the now lukewarm coffee.
"You're not going to tell me what happened, are you." He could hear the tone of resignation in her voice.
"I finally lost my boyish looks, huh?" The cuts were a reminder of his ordeal that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. Not that he'd done that much lately, even shaving carried out mainly by memory now.
Sara smiled back at him, the fondness in her eyes outweighing the forced brightness. "You never had boyish looks, Jack. You always looked like a bit of a rogue, that's what attracted me to you."
He laughed, and waited as the waitress put Sara's coffee down, before continuing. "The plastic surgeon says they should fade and be pretty well gone in a few months."
"That's good." As he opened his mouth to comment she hurried on, smiling again. "Not that I'm worried about you regaining the boyish looks you never had in the first place."
Jack grinned and they lapsed into a companionable silence as Sara drank.
"Are there any others?"
The question puzzled him, until Jack saw that she was looking at his hands, long scars running down each finger in a pattern. He realised for the first time just how much they looked like deliberate tattoos.
He had never been good at lying to her, so he didn't try. He rolled up one sleeve and wordlessly held out his arm for inspection. "Yes. A lot." He didn't bother to tell her that they were probably going to fade faster than the scars on his face. Eventually he'd be left with only a few of the deeper cuts to remind him of just one more time when he almost died.
It was as if Sara had read his mind, her next words spoken quietly, but with a fierce emotion. "It's never going to end, is it Jack? There'll always be just one more mission, one more time when you have to put the world to rights, and eventually there'll come a time when the scars don't fade, when you don't come home." She put her mug down, her hand shaking, coffee spilling across the green cloth, and stood. "I'm sorry Jack, but I'm glad. Glad I don't have to wait for that knock on the door that tells me you're not coming back. I know it's selfish, but I just can't help it." He followed her up, and put a hand out to stop her, but she pulled away. "I hated not knowing where you were, what you were doing, and I hated not being able to say 'how was work, honey' like a normal wife." She stopped, hesitated then swallowed, her voice suddenly breaking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He stepped closer, pleased to see she didn't back away, and held his arms out. She moved into them, and they hugged briefly, and memories of an earlier, far happier time flittering through his head. He bent, breathing in the familiar smell of her shampoo then straightened.
"That's okay, Sara. You didn't say anything I didn't already know."
"I would say 'look after yourself' but it seems very unlikely." She smiled and he smiled back. "Goodbye, Jack."
He watched her as she left the shop. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, and walked to the register, paying for the two drinks, the decision already made as to what to do next.
Yes, it would be good to have an afternoon with his team.
His team. They didn't have issues with his life; they didn't have to wait for him to get home.
Because they went with him.
He could catch up on all the base gossip he was missing. He'd have to be up to speed for when he got back to work in a week or so. Maybe they'd even discuss their last mission. There was still a bit of butt kicking to do and some redefining of the terms friendly and harmless.
Blinking in the bright sunshine, he turned towards his truck. The shopping could wait. As he turned the key in the ignition he took his cell from his pocket.
"Hi, Daniel. Want to get together at my place? Give Carter and Teal'c a call, tell them I'll provide the beer and pizzas." He smiled at the answer, and disconnected, pulling out from the curb.
The End
Assignment:
Time frame: Seasons 1-3
Pairings: None
Fic should be based on: Aztec rituals and archeological findings. As per a recent Time magazine: One ritual is to stake an enemy warrior down on an alter and sacrifice him, eating his organs and limbs afterwards, in order to assimilate his strength. One of the artifacts is called the "flayed lord" where evidently a religious leader or warrior is flayed to release his inner strength.
Restrictions: No Asgard, no ship, very team centered, no "supermen" (or superwoman).
Notes: Preferably team centered, where each member has their "job". No "rabbits out of the hat". Off-world culture that the team meet would be interesting, and maybe Daniel (or Jack) have to deal with a female who is interested in him (probably for the wrong reasons).
Author Note: I did some research (I actually had three fairly weighty books on the Aztecs in my garage ) and found that there were various rituals involving flaying of victims, including one where a maiden was sacrificed in this way during harvest time. The cutting out and eating of a victim's heart is essential to the Aztec rituals, but it was very difficult to incorporate this into a fic and not kill off a major character. I hope my solution worked.