Shadows of Fear – Part 2

The full impact of what he was seeing suddenly hit the colonel and all his bravado left him. His heart pounding, he pushed his chair backwards, the sheer horror of the sight in front of him causing all rational thought to momentarily flee from his brain. He could do nothing more than stagger up as the figure came towards him, its hand outstretched, a Goa'uld snake writhing in the ghostly fist, hissing and screeching.

"God!"

Jack wasn't sure if the word was a prayer or exclamation, but uttering it broke him out of his stunned state. He stopped moving and stood his ground, straightening and quickly looking around the room for any other threat, before once again facing his friend.

"Charlie?" Intellectually the colonel knew there was no way this could really be Kawalsky, but he couldn't help speaking the name anyway.

Kawalsky paused only two feet from him and now he was out in the light Jack could see every familiar line of his face, even the slightly quirky smile Charlie had been so ready to give. It was all there for Jack to recognise, right down to the tiny scar on his top lip that you had to know where to look to see.

It was Kawalsky – and yet it couldn't be.

Kawalsky had never smelt of foulness and rot, had never dripped gore on the carpet of Jack's office, and had never, never once in all the years Jack had known him, had his smile morph into such a malevolent leer of anticipation that Jack could do nothing more in the face of it than hope and pray that what he saw wasn't real and that he had gone mad.

It wasn't real.

He was over-tired.

It wasn't there.

Wrenching his eyes away for a second, he grabbed at the paper knife on his desk, holding it up, only to find he was once again alone. His gaze searched the room, feverously hunting but almost hoping he would find no evidence of his visitor. When he was sure the room was empty of anyone but himself he groped his way to the spot where Kalwalsky had stood and crouched, checking the carpet for any sign of moisture, his brain finally kicking into gear.

The whole experience had lasted only a minute or two at the most. He was sure the apparition hadn't been an actual physical presence, but he couldn't rule out some sort of holographic projection.

But why? What point would there be in that, and why Kawalsky?

None of this made sense.

He leaned against the desk, his eyes still searching the carpet for any evidence that would stop the rapidly growing conviction that the whole thing was a hallucination.

Although Kawalsky's death had been horrifically brutal he felt no guilt at having given the order. Charlie had been dead already, killed by the damned snake that had invaded his body and taken over his mind. What little that had possibly been left of his friend at the last had undoubtedly applauded Jack's actions. There was no way the man Jack had fought side by side with would have blamed him for what he had to do.

And that was even if Jack believed in ghosts.

Which he didn't.

He shook his head, ran a hand over his face to wipe away the thin sheen of sweat, and pushed away from the desk.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Anyway, I wanted to check with you before I suggested it to the general. . ."

Major Carter stopped in mid-sentence as the colonel approached them. She stepped to one side of the corridor in anticipation of his stopping to talk, but instead he continued on towards the elevator without speaking.

"Jack?" Daniel looked as if he was going to follow their teammate, but she put out a hand to stop him, the one glimpse she caught of the colonel's face showing it to be unnaturally pale, almost sickly. Her CO was never pleasant company when he was ill, and past experience had proven it was better to give him space.

"He didn't look good." Daniel's words confirmed her own opinion and she nodded her head in agreement.

"He's probably heading for the locker room. How about we give him a few minutes and then go see if we can help."

"Did he say anything to you about not feeling well?"

"No. Nothing." Sam began walking, thinking back over the last few days. "Maybe he was already coming down with something before we left on the last mission."

They paused at the elevator, Daniel reaching out to press the button. "Are you suggesting. . .?"

Sam quickly shook her head. "No. Of course not." She didn't know what she was suggesting – that it could explain his actions on PX4-612? "I'm wrong. I'm sure he would have said something before we left if that were the case."

"Yeah – if he knew he was sick. What if he didn't?"

The doors opened and they stepped in and stood in silence as the car descended to Level 25, briefly greeting a technician who got on at Level 20 and off again at 22. It wasn't until they were at the locker room door that Sam spoke again.

"You should go in first."

"Okay." Daniel didn't wait, pushing open the door and entering. He was back out almost immediately. "He isn't in there."

"Where then? The infirmary?"

"I doubt it. I can't see Jack going there by choice. How about the cafeteria or his quarters?"

Sam hesitated. "Maybe we should just leave it. If the colonel wanted to talk to us he would have stopped back when he passed us." She thought about it for a moment. "You could give him a call tonight, see how he is."

Daniel gave a snort of amusement. "And expect him to tell me? Okay, what about we see if he's in the cafeteria and if he isn't we just leave it. We're probably just overreacting. If he's got one of his headaches he wouldn't want to talk to us anyway."

"And we can have some lunch, then it wouldn't be too obvious we've been looking for him."

Having come to an agreement they turned back to the elevators.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

General Hammond looked up from the report he was reading as a firm knock sounded on his half open door. Smiling when he saw his 2IC standing there, he waved him in.

"Come on in, Colonel. What can I do for you?"

"Mind if I close the door, sir?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all. Is there a problem? Take a seat."

O'Neill turned from the now shut door and walked the few steps to the visitor's chair, falling into it with less than his usual grace. He paused a moment to run a hand over his face before speaking and Hammond was shocked by his worried expression.

When he did speak, his voice was tentative. "Yes, sir, there's a problem."

"Go on."

"I'm requesting leave, two weeks if possible."

"Two weeks?" George was surprised. The last time Jack had asked for leave was over a year ago, unless you counted the many times he had been home recovering from injury. "I don't think that will be possible. There's several important missions planned, plus a meeting with the funding committee, as you're aware." He saw the frown on the other man's face deepen and continued. "Is there a reason you need to take leave right away? Can it wait at least until after the mission on Wednesday to P5X-398?"

O'Neill slumped forward in the chair, his shoulders hunched and his eyes fixed on his tightly clasped hands. "I don't think I'm in any fit state to be leading the team right now, sir."

Hammond never thought he had heard less likely words come out of Jack O'Neill's mouth. One thing Jack was supremely confident in was his ability to lead.

"Why, son? If you aren't well you should be in the infirmary talking to Doctor Fraiser, not here with me."

"I'm just tired, sir. Nothing a few days off won't cure."

Watching Jack's hands unclasp and begin twisting and winding, his fingers moving in intricate patterns, the general thought not so much about what O'Neill was saying as what he wasn't. He waited a few minutes hoping for more explanation, but seeing he wasn't going to get any decided to take the bull by the horns.

"Cut the crap, Colonel." His words weren't loud, but they held a note of authority that had his 2IC stiffening in his seat. "What's going on? And don't try to spin me any cock and bull story about being tired – it just won't wash."

"You're not going to believe it, sir." O'Neill met his gaze briefly before once again fixing his attention on his hands and launching into an explanation.

Several minutes later he stared in stunned disbelief at the colonel. "You should have sounded the intruder alert. What were you thinking? We could have an alien loose on the base."

O'Neill looked sick, as if the thought had just now occurred to him, which Hammond found hard to swallow – he knew O'Neill would have considered the possibility even if he had obviously dismissed it.. "I was thinking I was losing it, General. Still am."

George let his sympathy show, just briefly, as he stood and came around the desk to grip Jack lightly on the shoulder. "I doubt it, Jack." Then his voice hardened. "So let's get this show on the road. I'll order the base searched completely for a possible intruder. You get yourself to the infirmary and have Janet give you a full check up."

"I'd rather help with the search, sir."

Hammond smiled grimly. "I'm sure you would, Colonel." He was reaching for the phone when O'Neill spoke again, coming to his feet.

"What are you going to tell them, sir?"

"That you spotted an intruder in your quarters. No specifics."

He received the smallest of smiles and a nod of thanks for his tact. "There is a possibility it was a projection of some sort."

Glad to see O'Neill appeared to be thinking a little more clearly, George nodded. "I'll speak to Major Carter and see if there is some test which can be done to check that. Now, get to the infirmary."

Already giving orders into the phone, he looked up as the colonel opened the door, worriedly watching the man walk across the Briefing Room as he spoke. Jack hadn't looked well. George hadn't missed the evidence of sweat on his face despite O'Neill having made an attempt to remove it, and his skin had been pale, without its usual healthy tan.

He could only hope they did find some sign of an intruder. Troubling though it would be, it was a lot less disturbing than the other possibility – that Jack had imagined the whole episode.

TBC