A Scream in the Dark
Part 2 of the Origins Sequence
Sequel to 'The Monument'
By Gumnut
Dec 2003
It was an argument that woke him. A loud one.
"With all due respect, sir, I don't care what any politician has to say on the subject. You do this, you'll be cutting his throat."
"Major, I'm aware of-"
"No, General, I don't think you are. I have worked with him for over seven years now, sir, please grant me the courtesy of acknowledging my familiarity with the man."
"Familiarity with who? Is this something I should know about, Carter?" His throat grated, but his words were intelligible.
Two heads whipped around in concert. "Colonel!"
He was lying on his side, propped between several secure pillows, and the two antagonists were conveniently in his direct line of sight. His body felt kinda fuzzy, the legacy of Janet's ministrations and a cocktail of drugs, no doubt. The only problem was that he couldn't even remember how he had managed to end up here this time.
Carter crouched down beside the bed so he didn't have to turn his head to look up at her. Hammond stood silently behind her. "How are you feeling, sir?"
"A little confused, Carter, how did I end up here? Last I remember it was Daniel who needed a visit to the infirmary, not me." He suddenly remembered the staff blast that had shot up the length of his arm. Uh, that could be a reason, O'Neill. "Uh, my arm?"
"Sir, do you remember the fight in front of the stargate?"
Her blue eyes spoke of quiet worry. A fight? He forced his doped up memory to focus, walking himself back through events. He hit upon it. He had surrendered to the guards. Walked right up to them and spat on their boots. They hadn't liked that much at all.
They had dragged him and Daniel to the stargate, intending, as he had hoped, to transport them to secure facilities. His plan....
His plan had been to play sicker than he was and take them by surprise. He had known Carter and Teal'c were in position, he only had to free himself and Daniel. And it had worked. He remembered that distinctly.
So how did he end up here?
Carter was waiting. She held the buzzer in her hand, signalling for Janet.
"The fight. Daniel....where is Daniel?" The sudden realisation that half of SG-1 was not in the room brought on a measure of worry, if not panic. "Teal'c?" He attempted to move, to peer around the room looking for his teammates, but a sudden tightening pain in the muscles of his upper back and shoulders gripped him, and he gasped.
Oh, god.
He closed his eyes against the pain, and hands held him down, preventing him from moving. When he finally opened his eyes, he came face to face with a concerned General Hammond. The worry on his CO's face spoke volumes.
"Sir, please don't move." Another, smaller, hand touched his, and his eyes found it, resting gently on his outstretched fingers. He looked up at Carter, seeing the concern in her eyes. Something had happened.
"Carter, what is it? Daniel? Where is Daniel?" His questioning was becoming more urgent, but if he didn't get an answer soon, regardless of whatever was wrong with him, he would climb out of bed and find out for himself.
Carter opened her mouth to answer him, but another voice beat her to it.
"Daniel, is fine, Colonel, so don't even think of moving from where you are." The sound of her heels on concrete accompanied the Doctor into the room. She appeared in his line of sight holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. "In fact, if you even think of blinking an eye without first consulting me I'll clap you in irons." She flicked an eye in Hammond's direction as if to confirm her authority before turning back to her patient. The arched frown on her face was designed to intimidate, and it worked....sorta.
He blinked.
Her mouth twitched.
He winked.
She frowned.
He waggled his eyebrows at her.
It was too much, and she smiled. "Damn it, Colonel."
"Yes, Doc?"
"You are incorrigible."
***********
Sam stood in the background watching the byplay. The Colonel's eyes sparkled with humour even though they were dulled with fatigue. He was himself, he was whole.
He had survived again.
The sight of his body spinning as it fell haunted her, but she set it aside with every other image she had of him cheating death. It came with the territory, it came with serving with Jack O'Neill.
She ignored the memory of her mad dash across the clearing, the dust that had clung to her throat, his body still, face down on the ground. The last few Jaffa had fallen to Teal'c, his staff spinning in the afternoon light, his expression, thunder in the clear sky.
She had heard the wormhole explode into existence as she reached her commanding officer. He had drawn no breath, his heart shocked into silence.
So she fought for his life.
She gave him air.
She gave him circulation.
She cracked three of his ribs.
She screamed his name.
He couldn't leave her like this.
There had to be a next time.
And Teal'c was there, and they were running. She grabbed Daniel, dragging the staggering man up the steps and through the event horizon. The world of dust became the concrete walls of the SGC, and the Colonel was in Janet's hands.
The Doctor had saved him, continuing her fight for first his life, and then his recovery over the long days and nights of repeated infections and close calls. She won. Jack O'Neill had survived. Again.
There would be a next time.
It wrenched her heart, but the smile on his weary face was worth it.
**********
General George Hammond waited. He had to. He knew Jack wasn't going to like it, and he had no wish to put any further strain on the injured man.
He didn't like it himself, but his opinion mattered little in the scheme of things. Others, higher up others, had the say. He fought, but they refused to listen. They knew best.
They knew shit all.
His fist crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, the words on the page warping under the strain. He had to force himself to relax, to straighten out the pristine white into a resemblance of neatness.
Major Carter was right, but he had no choice.
Only Jack's choice.
He stood outside the Colonel's room in the infirmary. It was dark, the form on the bed only shadows, but something told Hammond those shadows were not asleep.
He was right.
"General?"
Despite his supposition, he still jumped. "Colonel."
Movement, and a reading lamp flicked on. Jack was still in heavy bandages all down his right side, and moved awkwardly, his eyes blinking in the sudden light. "What can I do for you, sir?"
Hammond waved him down as he struggled to sit up. "At ease, Jack, for goodness sake." He grabbed a chair, pulling it to the side of the bed, and sat down. He almost managed to dislodge a pile of papers stacked haphazardly on the nightstand. "Keeping yourself occupied?"
"I suppose you could call it that. Paperwork does not wait for anyone." Jack squirmed, attempting to get comfortable. Hammond reached over and pulled a pillow into place, only glancing at the alien text lying on top of the pile. Paperwork, Jack? He almost questioned, but that was not the reason he was here.
"Jack, I have something for you."
A piercing brown gaze stared at him. "I'm not going to like it am I."
Hammond sighed. "No, I don't think you will." George matched the gaze with one of his own, attempting to convey his own dislike of what he was about to do.
There was silence for a moment, before Jack broke their line of communication by looking away into the dark. "Okay, sir, lay it on me."
He held out the piece of paper. Jack took it, his eyes scanning the page.
The only reaction was a brief swallow, before those eyes once again caught his. "Who's behind it?"
"It's a presidential order, Jack."
"I can see that, sir, the seal tends to give it away. What I want to know is who is really behind it." Anger was stirring behind those eyes.
"I have no proof."
The eyes narrowed. "Who, sir?"
"My guess would be our old friend."
"Kinsey."
"None other."
The paper was screwed up into a ball and thrown across the room where it hit a tray of instruments, causing a clatter in the dark, before it bounced and rolled under a cabinet. "Damnit! I should've seen it coming."
"You still have a choice, Jack."
"What choice? To retire? We both know that I am not the retiring type. Been there, done that, got bored with the T-shirt and traded it in for a uniform." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up its already scruffy appearance. "Besides I have other responsibilities." He paused as realisation dawned. "That's the angle, isn't it?"
Hammond sighed again. "It is the opinion of our superiors that Ambassador Jack O'Neill is too an important person to risk in the field. Your relationship with the Asgard, and the other races of the Alliance, is unique. Too unique to risk a stray staff weapon blast from ending it. It was close this time, Jack - again - and you are just too integral."
Jack looked away, his face carved in stone. "I think I'd like to be alone, sir."
Hammond knew when to back away. Jack would handle this by himself, as he did everything else. Hammond could only be there when he called for help.
In the meantime, though, he was determined to ferret out the details behind this order, and hunt down the culprit. He had his own means of defending the members of his team.
At the door he paused, turning, the light of the hallway backlighting him. "Good night, General O'Neill."
There was no answer.
*********
Jack edged himself back down into the bed, his arm, shoulder, and back complaining all the way. With the light switched off he was free to wince, swearing under his breath. The General was right, it had been too close. The ache in his ribs just the beginning of the proof.
But goddamnit, he did not want to be grounded. One day, yes, it was inevitable, but not today.
He was most effective in the field, gun in his hand, adrenalin in his blood, orders on his lips - not stuck behind some paperwork covered desk, the only battle involving a tangled paperclip chain.
The other choice? Retirement. How could he serve Earth in that capacity? Would they even let him retire considering his 'importance'?
Damnit, why couldn't they just leave things they way they are? He was happy with his team. He was effective, they were effective, and together they made a difference.
There had to be a way out of this order. He had to speak to someone. But who?
His mind spun in endless circles for several hours, hunting for solutions, combing through scenarios, and in the end it was only the fatigue brought on by his injuries that forced him to sleep.
And in that sleep he dreamed of stars.
The stars of a General.
**********
"O'Neill."
Huh?
"O'Neill."
He struggled to awareness. The room was dark.
"O'Neill!"
The whisper was urgent, and it had him struggling to sit up in bed. A quick glance at the clock's glowing numbers told him that it was still early morning.
But someone was calling his name. He flicked on the lamp.
"O'Neill! Please hear me!"
There was urgency in the voice, a fear, and it was familiar.
"Thor?"
"O'Neill, I need your help."
"Where are you?" There was no-one in the room. Then it clicked.
The amulet.
Fumbling under his shirt with his good hand, he tapped his chest twice. His sign of office appeared beneath his fingertips. It glowed blue as Thor's voice echoed in the room.
"O'Neill, I have little time, and what I must relay, extremely important." The urgency in Thor's voice chilled O'Neill. Something was up, and it didn't sound good.
"Go ahead." O'Neill fumbled with the papers beside his bed, grabbing a pen and something to scribble on.
"I have been captured." There was a soft groan. "You must go to this planet, O'Neill." He spouted off a series of seven numbers. "You must save the young ones. You must help the-" There was a shout and the sound of a scuffle. Thor said no more. Only one sound came from the amulet.
The sound of an Asgard screaming.
***********
FIN.
Part 2 of the Origins Sequence
Sequel to 'The Monument'
By Gumnut
Dec 2003
It was an argument that woke him. A loud one.
"With all due respect, sir, I don't care what any politician has to say on the subject. You do this, you'll be cutting his throat."
"Major, I'm aware of-"
"No, General, I don't think you are. I have worked with him for over seven years now, sir, please grant me the courtesy of acknowledging my familiarity with the man."
"Familiarity with who? Is this something I should know about, Carter?" His throat grated, but his words were intelligible.
Two heads whipped around in concert. "Colonel!"
He was lying on his side, propped between several secure pillows, and the two antagonists were conveniently in his direct line of sight. His body felt kinda fuzzy, the legacy of Janet's ministrations and a cocktail of drugs, no doubt. The only problem was that he couldn't even remember how he had managed to end up here this time.
Carter crouched down beside the bed so he didn't have to turn his head to look up at her. Hammond stood silently behind her. "How are you feeling, sir?"
"A little confused, Carter, how did I end up here? Last I remember it was Daniel who needed a visit to the infirmary, not me." He suddenly remembered the staff blast that had shot up the length of his arm. Uh, that could be a reason, O'Neill. "Uh, my arm?"
"Sir, do you remember the fight in front of the stargate?"
Her blue eyes spoke of quiet worry. A fight? He forced his doped up memory to focus, walking himself back through events. He hit upon it. He had surrendered to the guards. Walked right up to them and spat on their boots. They hadn't liked that much at all.
They had dragged him and Daniel to the stargate, intending, as he had hoped, to transport them to secure facilities. His plan....
His plan had been to play sicker than he was and take them by surprise. He had known Carter and Teal'c were in position, he only had to free himself and Daniel. And it had worked. He remembered that distinctly.
So how did he end up here?
Carter was waiting. She held the buzzer in her hand, signalling for Janet.
"The fight. Daniel....where is Daniel?" The sudden realisation that half of SG-1 was not in the room brought on a measure of worry, if not panic. "Teal'c?" He attempted to move, to peer around the room looking for his teammates, but a sudden tightening pain in the muscles of his upper back and shoulders gripped him, and he gasped.
Oh, god.
He closed his eyes against the pain, and hands held him down, preventing him from moving. When he finally opened his eyes, he came face to face with a concerned General Hammond. The worry on his CO's face spoke volumes.
"Sir, please don't move." Another, smaller, hand touched his, and his eyes found it, resting gently on his outstretched fingers. He looked up at Carter, seeing the concern in her eyes. Something had happened.
"Carter, what is it? Daniel? Where is Daniel?" His questioning was becoming more urgent, but if he didn't get an answer soon, regardless of whatever was wrong with him, he would climb out of bed and find out for himself.
Carter opened her mouth to answer him, but another voice beat her to it.
"Daniel, is fine, Colonel, so don't even think of moving from where you are." The sound of her heels on concrete accompanied the Doctor into the room. She appeared in his line of sight holding a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. "In fact, if you even think of blinking an eye without first consulting me I'll clap you in irons." She flicked an eye in Hammond's direction as if to confirm her authority before turning back to her patient. The arched frown on her face was designed to intimidate, and it worked....sorta.
He blinked.
Her mouth twitched.
He winked.
She frowned.
He waggled his eyebrows at her.
It was too much, and she smiled. "Damn it, Colonel."
"Yes, Doc?"
"You are incorrigible."
***********
Sam stood in the background watching the byplay. The Colonel's eyes sparkled with humour even though they were dulled with fatigue. He was himself, he was whole.
He had survived again.
The sight of his body spinning as it fell haunted her, but she set it aside with every other image she had of him cheating death. It came with the territory, it came with serving with Jack O'Neill.
She ignored the memory of her mad dash across the clearing, the dust that had clung to her throat, his body still, face down on the ground. The last few Jaffa had fallen to Teal'c, his staff spinning in the afternoon light, his expression, thunder in the clear sky.
She had heard the wormhole explode into existence as she reached her commanding officer. He had drawn no breath, his heart shocked into silence.
So she fought for his life.
She gave him air.
She gave him circulation.
She cracked three of his ribs.
She screamed his name.
He couldn't leave her like this.
There had to be a next time.
And Teal'c was there, and they were running. She grabbed Daniel, dragging the staggering man up the steps and through the event horizon. The world of dust became the concrete walls of the SGC, and the Colonel was in Janet's hands.
The Doctor had saved him, continuing her fight for first his life, and then his recovery over the long days and nights of repeated infections and close calls. She won. Jack O'Neill had survived. Again.
There would be a next time.
It wrenched her heart, but the smile on his weary face was worth it.
**********
General George Hammond waited. He had to. He knew Jack wasn't going to like it, and he had no wish to put any further strain on the injured man.
He didn't like it himself, but his opinion mattered little in the scheme of things. Others, higher up others, had the say. He fought, but they refused to listen. They knew best.
They knew shit all.
His fist crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, the words on the page warping under the strain. He had to force himself to relax, to straighten out the pristine white into a resemblance of neatness.
Major Carter was right, but he had no choice.
Only Jack's choice.
He stood outside the Colonel's room in the infirmary. It was dark, the form on the bed only shadows, but something told Hammond those shadows were not asleep.
He was right.
"General?"
Despite his supposition, he still jumped. "Colonel."
Movement, and a reading lamp flicked on. Jack was still in heavy bandages all down his right side, and moved awkwardly, his eyes blinking in the sudden light. "What can I do for you, sir?"
Hammond waved him down as he struggled to sit up. "At ease, Jack, for goodness sake." He grabbed a chair, pulling it to the side of the bed, and sat down. He almost managed to dislodge a pile of papers stacked haphazardly on the nightstand. "Keeping yourself occupied?"
"I suppose you could call it that. Paperwork does not wait for anyone." Jack squirmed, attempting to get comfortable. Hammond reached over and pulled a pillow into place, only glancing at the alien text lying on top of the pile. Paperwork, Jack? He almost questioned, but that was not the reason he was here.
"Jack, I have something for you."
A piercing brown gaze stared at him. "I'm not going to like it am I."
Hammond sighed. "No, I don't think you will." George matched the gaze with one of his own, attempting to convey his own dislike of what he was about to do.
There was silence for a moment, before Jack broke their line of communication by looking away into the dark. "Okay, sir, lay it on me."
He held out the piece of paper. Jack took it, his eyes scanning the page.
The only reaction was a brief swallow, before those eyes once again caught his. "Who's behind it?"
"It's a presidential order, Jack."
"I can see that, sir, the seal tends to give it away. What I want to know is who is really behind it." Anger was stirring behind those eyes.
"I have no proof."
The eyes narrowed. "Who, sir?"
"My guess would be our old friend."
"Kinsey."
"None other."
The paper was screwed up into a ball and thrown across the room where it hit a tray of instruments, causing a clatter in the dark, before it bounced and rolled under a cabinet. "Damnit! I should've seen it coming."
"You still have a choice, Jack."
"What choice? To retire? We both know that I am not the retiring type. Been there, done that, got bored with the T-shirt and traded it in for a uniform." He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up its already scruffy appearance. "Besides I have other responsibilities." He paused as realisation dawned. "That's the angle, isn't it?"
Hammond sighed again. "It is the opinion of our superiors that Ambassador Jack O'Neill is too an important person to risk in the field. Your relationship with the Asgard, and the other races of the Alliance, is unique. Too unique to risk a stray staff weapon blast from ending it. It was close this time, Jack - again - and you are just too integral."
Jack looked away, his face carved in stone. "I think I'd like to be alone, sir."
Hammond knew when to back away. Jack would handle this by himself, as he did everything else. Hammond could only be there when he called for help.
In the meantime, though, he was determined to ferret out the details behind this order, and hunt down the culprit. He had his own means of defending the members of his team.
At the door he paused, turning, the light of the hallway backlighting him. "Good night, General O'Neill."
There was no answer.
*********
Jack edged himself back down into the bed, his arm, shoulder, and back complaining all the way. With the light switched off he was free to wince, swearing under his breath. The General was right, it had been too close. The ache in his ribs just the beginning of the proof.
But goddamnit, he did not want to be grounded. One day, yes, it was inevitable, but not today.
He was most effective in the field, gun in his hand, adrenalin in his blood, orders on his lips - not stuck behind some paperwork covered desk, the only battle involving a tangled paperclip chain.
The other choice? Retirement. How could he serve Earth in that capacity? Would they even let him retire considering his 'importance'?
Damnit, why couldn't they just leave things they way they are? He was happy with his team. He was effective, they were effective, and together they made a difference.
There had to be a way out of this order. He had to speak to someone. But who?
His mind spun in endless circles for several hours, hunting for solutions, combing through scenarios, and in the end it was only the fatigue brought on by his injuries that forced him to sleep.
And in that sleep he dreamed of stars.
The stars of a General.
**********
"O'Neill."
Huh?
"O'Neill."
He struggled to awareness. The room was dark.
"O'Neill!"
The whisper was urgent, and it had him struggling to sit up in bed. A quick glance at the clock's glowing numbers told him that it was still early morning.
But someone was calling his name. He flicked on the lamp.
"O'Neill! Please hear me!"
There was urgency in the voice, a fear, and it was familiar.
"Thor?"
"O'Neill, I need your help."
"Where are you?" There was no-one in the room. Then it clicked.
The amulet.
Fumbling under his shirt with his good hand, he tapped his chest twice. His sign of office appeared beneath his fingertips. It glowed blue as Thor's voice echoed in the room.
"O'Neill, I have little time, and what I must relay, extremely important." The urgency in Thor's voice chilled O'Neill. Something was up, and it didn't sound good.
"Go ahead." O'Neill fumbled with the papers beside his bed, grabbing a pen and something to scribble on.
"I have been captured." There was a soft groan. "You must go to this planet, O'Neill." He spouted off a series of seven numbers. "You must save the young ones. You must help the-" There was a shout and the sound of a scuffle. Thor said no more. Only one sound came from the amulet.
The sound of an Asgard screaming.
***********
FIN.
