I'd like to make it clear that although this story involves incidents in Iraq, I have no affiliations with any political group or any other concerned in that country whatsoever and anything contained in these pages is purely fictional, coming entirely from my imagination. I mean no disrespect to any organisation or people herein.
Thank you all for your reviews…keep 'em comin' guys - pretty please!
Petra – good point which I forgot to mention. Daniel being a good friend decided to burn the midnight oil at the SGC so that Sam could keep Jack company. lol!
Title: Unity.
Author: LetitiaRichards.
Previously:
Sam accepted his excuse for now, he said he hadn't realised how important the Colonel and Daniel were until the President called him. Kelly never let on that the President had threatened him with a court-martial because of his stupidity. Sam battened down her own feelings and emotions on the subject because she really needed to know what their latest information was, which was sketchy to say the least.
Chapter 12
Jack wasn't sure how much time had passed since Daniel had been taken away. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness, or slept or whatever; he couldn't be certain, only that time had passed and the air was hot and parched; just like his throat.
He looked around for some water, and spotted a container just inside the door. He pulled himself along the floor and grasped it eagerly. The water was stale and tepid, but it was all there was and he embraced it as it slid down his gullet to ease the dryness there. He tipped a little into his hand and swiped it over his hot face, saving a little for the back of his neck, revelling in the feel of it against his fevered flesh.
Forcing himself to his feet, he shuffled awkwardly to the 'facilities' – a battered pail in the corner of the room – and relieved himself. He then limped away, picking up the container of water and hobbled back to his previous position where he could see the door clearly. Sliding down the wall again to sit propped against it, he waited and waited. Stayed there for an eternity until they returned his friend; worrying about what they were doing to him.
Time dragged by slowly, each tortuous minute seemed like an hour, each hour passed like a day. Jack sat there, sweating with fever; shivering with sudden chills; dozing a little in between re-living the nightmare of captivity, and all the time he was tormented by images of Daniel suffering god only knew what. Well, he had a pretty good idea of what, but refused to go there. Self-recriminations assaulted him; he should have seen Daniel safely onto that helicopter; he should have insisted that Daniel go home; he should have made him stay at home in the first place.
He jerked awake. Whether it was yet another nightmare image, or the fever, or pain he'd felt as he'd twitched awake, he wasn't sure what had woken him. Moments later however the door opened and Hassim and his goons entered the cell.
The Arab took a moment to study his prey and silently nodded to the guards before he turned and left.
Jack suddenly found himself on his feet and hauled from the room, dragged behind the retreating figure of Hassim. Dizziness assailed him, but he wasn't given much choice; dragged along in a dazed and pain-wracked movement, he almost passed out, but clung tenaciously to his consciousness.
A minute or two later he was pushed into a chair and his wrists tied to the arms. His legs were yanked upwards, causing him to cry out in pain when his wounded leg was man-handled roughly. He was quickly divested of his boots and socks, and his ruined pants leg was ripped open to expose the bloody wounds. His ankles were tied securely to the top of a sturdy bench in front of him.
To the side of the room stood a small furnace with a hot iron within it's white hot embers.
Jack knew what was coming and couldn't help the shiver of repugnance that betrayed his body's reaction.
One of the men donned a thick glove and pulled the hot rod from the fire and hovered over him. Then there was excruciating agony in his leg and his awareness fled.
How long he was out, he didn't know, but the first thing he registered was Hassim bending over him with a satisfied smirk. The pain was intense and the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, making him want to heave. His eyes rolled back into his head as he slipped into unconsciousness. When he came round again and he could fix his blurry vision enough to see, he glanced down to see that they had cauterized his wounds.
But now he was awake he knew they weren't finished with him yet.
"Tell me Colonel O'Neill, what it is this Stargate that you are hiding from the world below that mountain!" Hassim demanded.
Jack remained silent, glaring defiantly up at the man; venom and determinations spitting from his dark hooded eyes. He had nothing to say and prayed that he wouldn't break, no matter what they did to him.
If Hassim was asking him these questions, he mused, then that meant Daniel hadn't broken under interrogation either. He crowed a silent victory in honour of his friend's strength, allowing a smile of satisfaction to grace his lips.
Hassim was incensed and struck the smile from his face in anger.
"I will have my answers O'Neill, either from you or Dr. Jackson."
"You'll get nothing from either of us," he rasped, "I'm not telling you squat, and neither will Daniel."
Jack screamed in pain when the reheated iron burned into the soles of his feet. Sweat popped out on his brow and his breath quickened in response.
"I will continue to ask the questions Colonel, and you will eventually tell me the answers."
"Never!" Jack spat breathlessly.
Again they used the white hot poker against the tender soles of his feet.
Again and again they burned him until Jack was incoherent and babbling, though he never broke under the strain. Merely muttering his name, rank and number, much to the chagrin of his interrogator, and praying for oblivion to take him.
After a number of hours, Hassim gave up and ordered his men to return him to his cell. He had gained nothing.
OoOoOoOoO
After several days of fruitless searching, and interrogation of the prisoners, Sam was growing ever more restless. They had to find them soon. The longer they left Jack and Daniel in the hands of the terrorists the more likely Jack would suffer a greater set back in his mental well-being. General Hammond had finally revealed to her, on her insistence, that Jack was under extreme stress due to whatever the ex-prisoners had burdened him with; that was the real reason he was returning before his allotted time. Now Sam was deeply concerned that Jack would break under the strain.
She knew about the nightmares Jack suffered from time to time when on their missions. No-one would dream of mentioning anything to him though, each agreeing that it would be in Jack's best interest if they ignored his distress, knowing he was a very private man.
She was desperate for some clue as to where they were hiding her team-mates; her friends; in particular the love of her life.
OoOoOoOoO
Jack could barely walk on his blistered feet. His fever was high, and he was only dimly aware that they were half carrying him towards that room again. The room where they had repeatedly tortured him for information.
On entering he was dropped to the floor, where he lay sprawled in an undignified heap, too weak to help himself. A startled incensed cry caught him unawares and he turned his head towards it.
"Daniel?" he whispered through swollen cracked and bleeding lips, recognising the sound of his voice. His eyes unable to focus properly onto his friend. "Tha' you? Ya 'kay?"
"Oh God, Jack..." Daniel struggled against his bonds, desperate to get to his friend. How could Jack ask him that when he was relatively untouched by comparison and Jack looked so bad?
"You bastards!" he spat, cursing them in Arabic for what they had done to his friend.
Daniel looked back at Jack, quivering and moaning, writhing on the floor in agony as a boot connected with already broken ribs. Some days they burned him, sometimes they beat him, but he never gave in.
"Silence!" Hassim shouted. "Tell me the answers to my questions Dr. Jackson or your friend will suffer the consequences."
"Don't tell him an'thin' Dan'l!" Jack gasped through gritted teeth.
"Jack..."
"No!" Jack yelled with as much force as much as he could muster. "No Danny!" he whispered, shaking his head.
Daniel felt helpless. He was tied to the chair by his wrists and ankles and could only watch as the goons battered his friend, while he refused to answer the persistent questions.
He turned away unwilling to see the damage they were inflicting.
Jack cried out in constant agony, and Daniel tried to shut out the noise of his pain, but Hassim slapped him hard across the cheek, rattling his teeth, and ordering him to open his eyes and to keep them fixed on his friend's suffering. Daniel did so, praying that Jack would forgive him for keeping silent, when he could stop this from happening.
When Jack slipped into oblivion, they stopped their assault and left the two friends alone in the room, hoping that when Jack awoke they would talk. Daniel wasn't going to fall for it though. Jack had taught him well. These people were no better than the Goa'uld in Daniel's eyes. Worse in fact because they had no demon snake in their heads urging them towards the dark side. These were humans and there was no end to the insanities that man could inflict on man.
Daniel took stock of Jack's visible injuries. The leg wound was swollen and an ugly burn scarred the flesh; the bandage he'd applied days ago was missing. He knew about the broken ribs; he'd definitely heard them snap. Jack's face was badly bruised and swollen too, his eyes both blackened and puffy. If Jack could see anything out of them it would have been a miracle. His bare arms bore signs of abuse too, and a couple of oddly crooked fingers were swollen and held stiffly, obviously broken too, Daniel thought sadly. There were rough gouges of bloodied skin where the ropes had eroded the flesh from his wrists and ankles, where they'd held him down. He guessed that they considered him too far gone to attempt an escape in his condition.
They were wrong.
TBC
