Firstly, I want to thank you for your reviews. I really appreciate them.
Secondly, a reply to Zoser. 'Forward in time'? No. Remember two things - that this is AU and does not necessarily have to follow the same timeline as the show, and also, that there were more than one Alpha Site. Which one Jack gated to will become clear. "How can you heal yourself?" Why not? I know many writers of fanfiction have gone down the road that you can only use the Ancient ability to heal others, but I haven't. The Ancient woman in Frozen may have been intending to heal herself but died before she was able to - who's to say. Also, again - this is AU.
O'Neill Interrupted – an interlude. Part 5
"You're asking me?" Jack couldn't help laughing, despite his predicament. "Maybe they smelled your BO and left in a hurry. I could understand that."
The irony of being questioned about the deserted Alpha site hadn't escaped him, especially the fact that the first human voice he had heard for so long was that of a First Prime asking him questions he couldn't answer. It wasn't much better for the Jaffa, however - the first person from the SGC they capture and it has to be someone who's been out of the loop for months.
"You will not find things so amusing when my Master questions you." The Jaffa stared down at him and smiled grimly.
"And he would be…?" Jack waved a hand in the air, feigning disinterest. "I know we've met before, but we didn't really get a chance to sit and chat."
The man didn't answer, merely giving the two Jaffa standing to either side of Jack a short nod of command. They stooped, grabbing him by the arms, and hauled him upright. He was unable to conceal a grimace as the sudden move sent his head spinning, but he straightened, endeavouring to appear as dignified as possible.
The walk out into the open was carried out in silence, the presence of the large and ominously silent warrior stalking along behind them, enough to convince Jack that any attempt to escape would be futile.
They ringed into the middle of a large room, its plain walls giving no clue as to its location. Frog-marched to the doors, Jack gave an involuntary gasp of surprise when they carried on straight out into the open air, a long, narrow walkway stretching out across a void so deep the bottom could not be seen. Vertigo had him staggering, only the grip of the two Jaffa keeping him on his feet as the vast fires burning in the depths glowed beneath him.
"Come." The command was terse and the Jaffa wasted no time following their commander's directions. Fierce wind tugged at Jack's hair, blowing its now non-regulation strands across his eyes. He gave a quick shake, trying to dislodge it, but only succeeding in making the Jaffa tighten their already death-like grip on his arms.
So now he was dizzy, aching all over – probably from the big honking explosion when they caught him, about to have both his arms fall off from lack of circulation, beginning to feel rather distant and other-worldly, with, all the while, spiky little points of hair ends brushing across his eyeballs.
He raised his eyes to the heavens, ignoring the fact they were covered with swirling orange and red clouds, and implored God to give him a break.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Jack prowled the confines of the tiny cell, his gaze nervously flittering to the door at every turn of direction. This wasn't quite the break he had prayed for.
Despite his earlier bravado, Jack remembered perfectly well who Herak was. And which Goa'uld he served.
Anubis – now big cheese of the snake pantheon.
It had been at least a week, by his rather imperfect method of calculation, that he'd been just sitting here, twiddling his thumbs, with the occasional and all too infrequent delivery of food and water the only break in the monotony. On one hand he was glad to have been left alone here for so long, but on the other, he was so bored he was almost looking forward to being tortured.
He finally stopped his obsessive pacing, sitting down on the floor in the corner furthest from the door, with his back against the wall. He tucked his knees up and rested his chin on them.
The distant feeling had grown, creeping up on him as each day passed, until sometimes he wondered if he was in the cell at all, or if it was just one of the dreams. The thing that scared him the most was that when he thought of his friends and colleagues back home, their faces were indistinct and he had to concentrate to remember the most basic of details about them. His life before the cell was fading away, replaced by images and ideas that were totally alien. Sometimes he found himself mumbling unintelligible gibberish, English replaced by Ancient. The process seemed different from the last time, less hurried – more leisurely – but it was a force that could not be halted, inexorably changing him.
If Anubis waited much longer, all he'd have left to question was a raving lunatic.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Something was going on. The gap between meals was longer and when they did come the servers literally threw the meagre rations through the door and slammed it shut again, leaving Jack to scramble around, trying to scrape what he could up from the floor. Occasionally he heard shouts, angry voices and the sound of marching feet, but there was still no sign that he was of any interest to anyone except the very bad cook.
He would have thought, after so many months of being alone, that this non-existence, this limbo of a waiting room, would be easy to bear. He was being fed and watered and was inside, in relative comfort compared to Harry's moon. But that wasn't the case. The constant anticipation, and he had to admit it, fear, of what was to happen next, were slowly shattering his nerves and doing more to break him than the worst physical torture. He knew it was happening, but, as he wrestled with the changes going on in his mind, he could spare no extra energy to stopping the ever increasing depression he was falling into.
Instead of pacing, he now spent most of his time curled up on the simple mattress that was a poor substitute for a proper bed, lost in a world of dreams and delusions. The faces of his team mixed in with others, familiar yet out of place – Colonel Mitchell with Carter in the F-302, Dixon shooting at Jaffa. The last scene was the one that convinced Jack it was all just a product of his warped imagination, because both Daniel and Jonas were there, and Daniel sure didn't look glowy.
Everything was moving along without him. Even in his own dreams he wasn't needed.
He had been forgotten.
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The jolt from the staff blast had Jack doubled over in pain, clutching at his belly as if to stop his insides from cascading out onto the cell floor. He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, and breathed in short, panting gasps, trying to understand what was happening to him. He lifted his hands reluctantly, almost afraid to look.
His stomach was unmarked, with no sign of the wound he knew had been there just a few minutes ago.
It was getting too hard to keep everything straight in his mind.
It wasn't working anymore.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
When they did come to get him, Jack was not prepared. He had to be physically wrenched from the cocoon of blankets he had created for himself, and carried bodily through the corridors. His legs seemed unable to take his weight, stiff and sore as if he had been frozen in one position for a very long time. His hair hung lankly, almost reaching his shoulders, and he felt a full beard hot and uncomfortable on his face.
How long had he been there?
As his mind woke, he tried to take some control of the situation, finally getting his feet underneath him instead of dragging behind, and took the next few steps on his own. The Jaffa holding him eased their grip slightly and slowed a little, as if acknowledging his efforts, or at least the fact they didn't have to carry as much of his weight.
It was a surprisingly quick journey – two or three turns of the corridor and they were in front of doors that looked more important than the others they had passed, if only by their size. A squish of motion, they parted, and he was dumped unceremoniously at the foot of a large throne.
Jack's dignity had deserted him along with his energy. He didn't make an effort to defiantly stand, instead staying on all fours, his head hanging. He did manage to raise a hand and give a rather dismissive wave of greeting to the Goa'uld he just knew had to be watching him.
"Colonel O'Neill. I apologise for not welcoming you earlier to my home, but I have been somewhat busy."
Jack raised his head and gave the black cloaked figure a smile. "Haud forsit." His voice rasped dryly in his throat from long disuse.
"Good, I am glad it was no problem. I hope our relationship will now continue on a more pleasant footing."
"Spero sic quoque. Magas victulus exsisto bono."
Anubis nodded, the cowl slipping a little from his face, revealing a dark void. "The question of food will depend on just how cooperative you are now we have a chance to talk." He paused, standing, his robes rippling around his feet as he strode towards Jack. He bent, taking Jack's chin in a firm grip and raised it, pulling it painfully up until O'Neill met his gaze, his neck bent at an awkward angle. "Why are you speaking in Ancient?"
Several things flashed through Jack's mind in the next moment. He hadn't every realised he was speaking in anything other than English until Anubis had mentioned it, but it was hardly surprising. What was surprising was that the Goa'uld had not only recognised the language, but appeared to understand it.
Jack made a conscious effort and managed to make the switch back to his native tongue. "Ancient? Moi? Not likely. School boy Latin – the product of a Catholic upbringing. Just messing with you a little." He grinned his best shit-eating grin. "It worked."
His chin was dropped, and he thankfully lowered his head again. The Goa'uld was silent, and Jack finally looked up, to find the horror-movie visage pointed directly at him.
"I think you will soon find little to joke about, O'Neill. I have questions I want answers to – answers I am sure you can provide."
Jack felt a strange relief at being back on familiar ground. Torture. He could do torture. It was mind games he had a problem with right now. What little mind he had left wasn't in any condition for games.
"Herak will prepare you. Do not be concerned – I have matters to attend to, but I shall return."
"Ophero non volito mehi." Jack gave himself a mental kick, annoyed at his slip back into Ancient.
Anubis paused in his steps and turned back. "This is interesting, but it can wait. As you say, I will not hurry on your account. I intend to take my time with you, O'Neill." He spun and exited the room, his entourage of hangers-on hurrying to follow, leaving only a grimly smiling First Prime.
"Oh, goody."
It seemed Ancient did not lend itself to sarcasm.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
TBC