Chapter 3: Revealed

Jack found himself feeling marginally better as he rested his head on his folded arms and blocked out Jonas' account of the cheerful natives of Farlor, eager to trade useful resources and befriend the newcomers. At that moment, the dark void of nothing was much more peaceful than letting his mind wander to that dreaded moment with Torran.

Almost unthinkably, he was having an identity crisis.

The darkness of sleep had nearly taken over completely, before a sharp nudge to his arm jolted him back to reality. He opened his eyes, grunting unhappily at Sam, the owner of the intruding elbow. However, he quickly reminded himself where he was when he noticed the rest of the team and General Hammond gazing at him strangely.

Oh yeah… debriefing…

"Colonel?" Hammond sounded torn between concern and irritation.

"Um… sorry, sir," he mumbled, eyeing the worried faces around him. "I'm fine…"

His companions looked doubtful. He rubbed his forehead, turning back to the commander of the SGC, "I just haven't been sleeping too well and…"

He trailed off at the General's expression of weary tolerance.

"Infirmary?" Jack guessed.

Hammond nodded slowly, gesturing for the door.

He was once again watching the gate spin in the darkened gateroom, this time from behind the thick glass of the control room window. He moved with purpose, marching down the steps to the corridor and through to the opened blast door. The gate finished its sequence and flared into watery, blue life. He hung by the doorway – there was still no clear idea of where the gate was linked to – the unfamiliar surge of fear rising within him.

As before, each step (laboured now) towards the gate only served to increase the sickening sensation. As before, just as he felt he couldn't take it anymore, he plunged through the vertical wall of water.

Jack immediately pulled away from the hand on his shoulder, slipping to the ground with an ungraceful thud and rolled across the floor. His vision tumbling and unfocused, he barked in surprise. Darting to his feet, he lunged for the nearest weapon he could find and spun on the figures nearby.

Jack swallowed in sudden regret.

It was Janet, and a very surprised orderly.

He was still in the infirmary. His mind reminded him – Dr. Frasier had taken a bloodwork to examine causes of his sleep loss. Almost exhausted, he'd fallen asleep on the infirmary bed and into that damn dream again. Janet tore him out of it by touching his shoulder, and still entangled in the sinking fear of the dream, fallen off the bed and then grabbed at…

He looked at his hand.

Jack saw a scalpel. A dribble of crimson. He'd grabbed it awkwardly, and sliced a small gash into the base of his thumb.

He was numbly aware of Janet shouting for SFs, and then calling Hammond on the internal phone. Setting the scalpel aside. Jack simply grabbed a cloth and pressed it against his hand, stemming the blood. A lot of people above him thought he was a little off in the deep end. Now they'd think he was really crazy.

"Well, sir, he hasn't given any explanation," Janet recounted. "He just seemed to go wild for a second or so, pulling a scalpel on Smithson and me. He snapped out of it very quickly, but I still think it's a concern."

Hammond watched his best officer warily. As with his team observations, it was obvious that the Colonel sitting tensely on the edge of an infirmary bed was not himself lately. This incident only served as proof that something strange was happening. He couldn't just get away with an irritated 'I'm fine, stop asking' with this. His dejected lack of response since then also helped Hammond's case.

"Do you know what's causing it?" he questioned the chief medical officer.

"Nothing showed up from a physical exam or the bloodwork," she sighed uneasily. "My guess would be that it's something to do with Einar."

"The Innarim?"

"Yes, the Colonel did share a physical body with him for a prolonged period of time. I would've considered it strange for there to be no change in him at all, psychologically speaking. The rest of SG-1 did comment on Colonel O'Neill being more open and upbeat than usual for a month or so after he was separated from Einar," Janet looked over her notes. "Over that time, I took regular CAT scans of the Colonel. The extra 10 percent of his brain that was active in order to hold Einar slipped back into dormancy within a couple of months. Since the obvious change in attitude lasted only so long as the extra 10 percent of his brain was still active suggested to me that an effects on his mind would be temporary, or else too subtle to be very clear-cut."

"This seems far from subtle, Doctor," Hammond commented.

"I know, sir. From the look of it, his exposure to Einar may have left a subconscious effect. It may even be affecting his mental stability. I suggest that he's treated with caution from now on, until we determine exactly what's happened."

Sam nodded to the guards outside the secure base quarters before knocking and entering the dull concrete room. Jack was perched on the bed, playing idly with a yo-yo with one hand and resting his head on the other. She hadn't really been too surprised at Jack's situation – for a while he'd been shaken and it was clear as day to anyone who knew him well that he was hiding something. She had a vague idea, however. She knew more than he expected.

"So…nothing's wrong, sir," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of insubordination.

Jack frowned, recognising his own words from their brief talk before the mission to Farlor. He let it drop.

"Just don't say I told you so," he grumbled. "Mini-Napoleon has me penned in here because she thinks I'm a head-case."

"She doesn't think you're…"

"I was asleep – she startled me. I was having some kind of dream," Jack cut in, flailing the yo-yo and frowning as the string tangled itself together. "No big deal."

"Sir," Sam paused, collecting her thoughts. "I think it might be a big deal. I know that you and Einar shared everything completely back on Wotan's mothership."

Jack sat straight up, his expression dropping to shock before morphing into simmering anger. He leant back into the pillow, eyes never leaving hers.

"That damn, hyperactive furball! I told him to keep his mouth shut!"

"He didn't tell me, sir," Sam assured, raising her hands defensively. "I worked it out. He just confirmed it."

"So…" she shifted awkwardly. "Does it have anything to do with that?"

Jack had considered it before. He had always suspected it was due to sharing everything with Einar, but he just couldn't reason it to himself. By sharing everything, it had meant that nothing could be hidden and neither of them could deceive the other. That might be because Einar had nothing to do with the dreams, and it was just something wrong with him. Yet, it could be caused by Einar – something Einar didn't even know about either. Something Einar didn't know wouldn't have been transferred to him.

"I don't know."

Sam sighed. She knew how he'd receive her advice.

"I think you should tell General Hammond and Janet about it officially. The sharing and these dreams…"

"Carter, this isn't the first time I've falsified a mission report!" he whispered urgently. "Hammond wouldn't have much choice – he'll probably have to have me court-marshalled, or least force me to get a transfer or retire."

"Sir, you know procedures as well as I do – if they certify you mentally unfit for duty because they don't know all the facts…." She left the sentence unfinished. "Colonel, Janet has to know all the facts to have a best shot at figuring out what's really wrong with you."

Jack frowned, looked away, and then scowled. His lack of retort told her one thing – he knew she was right.

"Colonel, do you have ANY conception of how much of a SECURITY RISK this makes Einar?" Hammond barked.

Sam was glad she was standing to the side and slightly behind Jack rather than standing in his boots. Her CO was attempting to stay as cool and composed as ever when faced with trouble.

"Yes, sir."

"Then why did you fail to mention this to me, either verbally on in an official written report?"

"I knew what would happen to him, sir. It just wasn't right."

"Colonel, I know you're not an expert at following orders, but as an Air Force Officer, you obey and enforce the rules! You don't presume the right to make them!"

"General, letting him be turned into a virtual prisoner of the SGC hardly seemed like a suitable 'thank you' present for doing so much to help me, and to help us. No matter how annoying he was, we wouldn't have the new staff weapons without him for a start."

"Thank you, Colonel, I do have countless reports on the Hakonan staff research and field tests," Hammond sat as his desk heavily. "Report back to the infirmary and let Dr. Frasier know what the situation is."

Well, sorry for the long delay. University can distract your attention quite a bit. However, I have been thinking about where to take the story, and possible situations to include, so I have still be working on it, technically. Let's hope my motivation keeps up! Thanks to the reviewers, as ever. In particular, those you who read and commented on the prequel to this story too. You're all great!

Well, enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!