This is another pretty intense chapter and deals with the serious issue of rape. There is absolutely nothing graphic but it is a mature subject matter so please take note.
The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he hurt. Every part of him – from the top to the toes – ached like a toothache. He tried to roll over, to relieve some of the soreness, but it only brought more agony. It also made him realize that he'd turned into a solid piece of wood over night. Yup – stiff as the proverbial board, that was Jack O'Neill.
"Aaagh", he let out a groan. If he could only find one comfortable position!
"Jack – are you okay." That voice always made him feel better, although right now he wished it was accompanied by a nice big syringe full of morphine. Oh yeah, that would definitely be sweet.
"Aaagh", he repeated. That summed up how he felt perfectly. He could feel movement and then a soft breath tickled his face. He managed to pry his eyes open a teeny bit and sure enough, there was the woman of his dreams looking down at him. Now, if he only had the energy to do anything about it it would be wonderful.
"Jack, tell me, what's wrong." She was getting worried that he'd been seriously hurt and no one had noticed. It could be Antarctica all over again, with hidden internal injuries.
"M'okay. Just hurts." He groaned again.
"Are you sure? Here, let me look." She reached out with her hands and lowered the blankets.
"AAAAHHHH!" he yelled as she pressed on his bruised ribs.
"JACK!" She sat back – frightened.
"No – your hands are cold!" That'd woken him up. When he heard nothing but dead silence he looked up to see a very pissed off Sam.
"Don't ever scare me like that again! I thought I'd killed you!" She hissed.
"Hey – you just about did. How would you like someone's ice cold hands on you first thing in the morning?"
"Morning? It's afternoon Jack."
"Oh? I thought I'd slept longer than that."
She laughed. "You did – it's tomorrow. I mean, you were hurt yesterday – you slept almost 24 hours."
"I did? No wonder I'm so stiff." He tried to sit up and stretch but the muscles didn't like it one little bit.
"Stiff and bruised. Come on Jack, tell me, are you seriously hurt anywhere? You know I need to know."
"Yeah, I know." He settled back down and gave it serious thought, mentally giving himself a once-over.
"I don't think so Carter. I think I'm just pretty bruised up. I may have a couple of cracked ribs but they're in place so as long as I don't do anymore fighting I should be fine."
She let out a deep sigh and relaxed. If he had been seriously hurt defending her she would never have forgiven herself.
"Gettin' to be kind of a habit", he said forlornly. "I think I've been flat on my back most of the time since we've arrived! I gotta say I'm getting real tired of this!"
She could sympathize with him – she knew how difficult he found it to stay still. He was a highly energetic person and this enforced rest must be killing him. Oh well, it was better than the alternative. With all that had happened he could be dead.
"Carter." His voice drifted softly to her followed by his hand caressing her cheek. "How are you doing?" Her face was terribly black and blue on one side and purple marks circled her neck. All in all she looked awful.
"I'm okay Sir." She said, slipping back into military formality. "Like you I'm just bruised. It should go away in a few days." He looked searchingly at her, recognizing that she was right; the physical wounds would heal. It was the emotional ones he worried about.
"How are you otherwise?", he asked gently.
"Otherwise Sir? I'm just fine." She pushed her self up and went and got him a bowl of water – anything to avoid looking at him. As she approached he reached out and grasped her free hand.
"Sam, you don't have to hide from me. I know this was traumatic and it's going to take time to deal with it. I'm here to help you so please, don't shut me out."
"Sir", she laughed. "There's nothing wrong, really. I'm fine. And anyway, if there were something wrong you'd be the last person I'd talk to about it." She stood up abruptly and walked away, leaving him shocked and hurt.
What in the world had brought that on, he wondered? Did she indeed blame him for leaving her when he went hunting? She had said not but maybe she'd had time to think about it and was angry at him?
He closed his eyes, exhausted and in pain, but much more deeply affected by the emotional hurt just inflicted on him. He only wanted to help her.
As Sam walked away she knew she had hurt him – what she said was cruel and unfair but she couldn't seem to stop herself. She was angry, furiously angry and that anger had exploded all over Jack.
When he'd been asleep, or had first woken up, all she could think about was whether or not he was hurt. When it seemed as if he was okay the anger had built. Although she knew it was irrational, she was livid over the fact that again he'd had to save her. She was tough, she was a soldier, she shouldn't have to rely on a man!
Although she knew it was not uncommon for women in the military to deal with sexual assault or even rape, this was the closest she'd ever come. Well, except for that one time in the early days of SG1 when Turgan had captured her. But even then she'd managed to save herself, she'd managed to fight her way out of it.
This time, however, she'd been at the mercy of a stronger man intent on molesting her and there was nothing she could do about it. It had taken Jack coming to her rescue. That was maddening, although certainly not his fault, but then he'd had the gall to say 'he understood' what she was going through. There was no way in hell he could understand. He'd never had to deal with anything like this. Even when captured and faced with torture or death he'd never had to face such a primitive and violent violation – and been unable to resist.
No, she was angry and had every right to be. It was arrogant and selfish of him to assume he knew what was best, what would make her feel better. Right now she wanted nothing to do with any man – especially not Jack O'Neill!
Jack slept most of the rest of the day, only waking up occasionally to drink or have a small bite to eat. Strangely it was Maru who usually brought it. He saw Sam wondering just outside the cave but she didn't come to see him, at least not while he was awake.
He wished he could figure out exactly what was making her so mad. He wanted her to scream and rant and kick him if that's what it took – anything but the silent treatment. The strange thing was it really wasn't like Sam. She was usually pretty open – and brave – about confronting him. It's what had made her a great 2IC for all these years, and was one of the things that he found attractive about her.
That night Sam came to bed but carefully stayed as far away from him as she could, her back turned to him. At one point he tried to reach out and simply touch her hand but she jerked it away. He was really starting to worry.
Although he still wondered if she was angry because she thought he'd left her to the mercies of that pervert, he was starting to wonder if this was more a delayed reaction to the attempted rape. In many ways that worried him more than anything.
The next morning started out the same with Sam staying away from him as much as possible. When he finally decided he had to stand – he really needed the facilities and some fresh air – he was again shocked that she didn't rush to help him.
As he stumbled – no one could call it a walk – out of the cave it was Drobe who came and gave him an arm. He was pretty sure that Sam was keeping an eye on him but every time he glanced up she was looking elsewhere.
"Okay fine, Samantha", he muttered under his breath. "If that's the way you want it – you can have it." For the rest of the day he totally ignored her. Instead he began to spend some time with the children.
He hadn't really paid much attention to them since he'd been here although they were always scurrying around. They were amazingly hairy for children so he'd thought of them more as small adults. Today, however, he quickly came to realize that they were pretty much like children everywhere (okay, but a lot uglier!). He started out with some simple juggling although couldn't continue long as his abused muscles protested. He tried to teach them a few simple games but again, he wasn't able to do much.
As he looked around the cave he realized these kids needed some toys. Hey, that would give him something with which to occupy his time as he recuperated. Maybe he could get S – okay, maybe Drobe, to get him a knife and some wood! In the meantime there had to be something?
As he looked around he caught site of the unused fire-pit that had been Boobu's – it was still empty and he had a moment's feeling of regret. He hobbled over, knelt down, and picked up a few pieces of 'charcoal' from the burnt wood. Walking over to the back of the cave he began to draw pictures. He was surprised but he had seen little evidence of any kind of art other than the jewelry the people wore.
He started by drawing simple stick people and couldn't believe how mesmerized the children were. Soon, he had them drawing pictures of their own. He began to draw pictures of the tribe's people – pointing to them one by one and then trying to draw a simple rendition that exaggerated one of their features. Soon, he had the children giggling hysterically and they drew funnier and funnier pictures.
One of the boys drew a picture of Jack with lots of marks and bruises – and with a big Chewi biting his butt! Oh yeah, kids were the same everywhere!
Jack began to get into the drawing himself. He'd always liked to draw and doodle; he got most of his practice during briefings. With a grin he decided to sketch the whole Simpson family. He just wished he had some colors! Hey – great idea, he decided. Maybe tomorrow he'd see if he could make some using some of the natural elements around here.
He finally began to get tired, and mothers were beginning to call their kids for supper. He smiled, realizing more and more how certain things never changed. The one thing he knew he wouldn't see, however, was Moms telling their kids to wash their hands, or checking behind their ears for dirt. They'd be more likely to check for clean spots!
Jack returned to his fire and sat. No, the truth was he collapsed. It had been a pretty good day although part of his mind was always on Sam. He'd kept an eye or her all day. She'd either kept to herself, but in viewing distance of the cave, or she'd spent it with the women. Not once had she approached him.
This was getting ridiculous, thought Jack. He decided it was about time to figure this whole thing out.
They finished supper, neither one speaking to the other. Sam stood up to go outside for one last time. It would be getting dark soon and she needed one more breath of fresh air.
As she walked out she didn't notice Jack push himself stiffly to his feet and follow her.
She looked up at the stars and took a deep breath. It was so beautiful here. Why did it all have to get spoiled, she wondered. For one day things had been wonderful – now it was all destroyed.
"Sam?" Jack's voice penetrated her dark thoughts. What was he doing here? Didn't he get it – she didn't want to see him.
"Sam, talk to me."
"Why?" She turned and faced him, anger flowing out of her every pore.
"Tell me what's wrong. What did I do that's made you so angry?"
"Nothing. You didn't do anything. I just want to be left alone."
"But why? Come on, talk to me Sam. Everything was great and now you've turned on me. And don't tell me you're not angry with me – I think it's pretty obvious."
"Well aren't you the smart one Colonel O'Neill. Whoops – no, I take that back – no one can accuse Jack O'Neill of being smart. Macho, yes – funny, oh yeah – but smart – nope – not Colonel O'Neill."
He stood there stunned, unbelieving. Did she really think that of him? Oh, he knew he liked to play the idiot and he never claimed to be good at all the science stuff that Carter liked, but he didn't think she had really believed his act. He wasn't stupid. Hell, you didn't fly planes in the Air Force or make Colonel by being stupid. An ass? Oh yeah, there were plenty of those in the Air Force – but not stupid people – at least not at his rank.
He was trying to figure out what to say in response when she continued.
"But I guess you don't need to be smart to fight guys like good ole' Igor. No, you need strength – good old manly strength. That way you could prove to the tribe that you could look after your little woman. She's your property and you'll keep her even if it means killing another man."
"Hey!" He was starting to feel angry himself. What she was saying was so unfair. He hadn't set out to kill anyone but he'd had no choice but to save Carter and in the end he hadn't even had to kill the man. He was about to retaliate, to defend himself, when he stopped. He knew where this anger was coming from and he couldn't or shouldn't take it personally. He'd been there. He cringed when he thought back to some of the things he'd said to Sara on his return from Iraq. He spewed all kinds of angry, hateful things at her , and yet she'd stuck by him and simply loved him. That's what he had to do for Sam until she could work through this.
Her anger was a reaction – a natural one – to what had happened to her and she was lashing out at the person nearest to her – and a male. Taking a deep breath he tried to calm things down.
"Sam, look, I know you're feeling pretty raw right now but it will get better. What you went through is terrible and you have a right to feel pissed but please know that I'm here for you and I understand what you're going through. I- "
"How dare you!" she practically screamed at him. He stumbled back, the almost physical force of her anger causing him to move away from her. "How dare you", she repeated.
"How dare I?" he asked, a question in his voice.
"Yes! How dare you say you understand, that you know what I'm going through. You don't have any idea. You've spent your whole life in the macho man's Air Force. You've relied on your strength and your courage and your God-damned sarcasm to save your ass your whole career. You have no idea what it is to feel completely helpless – to know that a man is looking at you with hate and with lust at the same time. Do you have any idea what it's like to have a man pawing at you and you know you're about to be violated and there's nothing you can do about it? Do you have any idea Jack? Can you truly say you understand what I went through? Your words are meaningless so please, just leave me alone." She turned her back completely on him, her arms wrapped around her chest.
Jack stood there, not moving, not breathing. He knew where this was coming from, truly he did. He couldn't hold it against her – she was speaking from raw emotion and saying things she would normally never say. Still, it hurt. It hurt horribly. Her comments about his lack of intelligence and that she saw him as nothing more than a typical military macho man without substance cut him to the quick. With a blinding flash of light he realized, at that moment, that he was nothing more than an object of desire to her. There was nothing behind her care for him – no respect at least. They didn't have enough to build anything serious on so he should cut his losses and do what she said and just leave.
As he went to turn away though he stopped. No – even if she didn't feel that way about him – he did still love her and he couldn't leave her like this. He had to help, in whatever way he could – even if it hurt him in the process.
Taking a deep breath he turned back and did something he thought he would never, ever do in his entire life.
"You're wrong. I do understand." She didn't say anything, didn't even move. Maybe he should just give up? No, he'd give it one more shot.
"Do you really think I don't know what it is to feel truly helpless, to have no way out? I was a POW Sam – for four months. I was completely at the mercy of vicious men. My – sarcasm – did nothing; in fact it probably made it worse. My machismo? Well, I can tell you that that's beaten out of you real fast. No, I know what it's like to not be in control, to not be able to defend yourself so see, I do understand." He hoped that was enough.
She moved, just enough to let him know she was listening. Finally she spoke, but not the words he wanted to hear.
"I know Sir. I know you went through hell and I'm sorry – it must have been awful and I don't want to belittle what you went through but ….. it's not the same. I've been captured before too Sir – captured and tortured. It's awful and terrifying – but it's still not the same. This time it wasn't just my life that was in danger – if felt like my soul was in danger of being destroyed. If he had finished what he'd started I don't think I could have survived. I would have wanted to die and that's not something I've ever felt before." She turned to face him. "Don't you see Sir? I have never felt so frightened, so powerless – so ashamed as I did then and I wasn't able to stop him. You were the one who had to save me." Turning away again she spoke softly. "And that's not something you can understand."
There was silence as she waited for him to leave. She needed him to go – she couldn't take his pity, his sympathy any longer.
"You're wrong", he repeated, so softly she could barely hear. "When I say I understand Sam I really do. Are you truly so innocent as not to know that it's not just women who find themselves in the position you were in yesterday? Do you really not know what goes on in prison camps? You say you would have wanted to die – well I can tell you – I did want to die. So, you see, I do know what you're talking about. I do know what it feels like – but in my case there was no last minute reprieve."
This time it was Sam who was stunned. She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Did the Colonel mean he had been -? No, surely that's not right. He didn't ever give the appearance of someone who'd been through that. He must mean something else. She turned to look at him but by this time he wouldn't look at her. He looked extremely white and she noticed he was shaking.
"Jack", she said softly, uncertainly. She reached out but stepped away.
"So don't think you're the only one who's ever been through this. Just be grateful he was stopped in time. You wouldn't want to have to live with any more memories. You will heal Sam – or at least you'll be able to deal with those memories. Just don't be so quick to turn away anyone who wants to help you – and don't be so quick to judge." With that he turned and walked away.
He couldn't return to the cave, not just yet. He had just let out a whole room full of memories that had been buried for a long, long time. Right at this moment he didn't quite know how he was going to cope.
Never – right from the time he'd been rescued in Iraq – through all the therapy and hospitalizations and counseling – had he ever spoken to anyone about what had happened. Oh, he knew the doctors knew – the physical symptoms were obvious – but they'd never forced him to talk about it. He'd wondered about that for a long time until he'd realized he was too valuable to the Air Force. They didn't want to lose him so they hadn't forced him to deal with what had happened. It had all been allowed to be buried and ignored.
He'd sometimes wondered if Sara knew, or at least whether she'd suspected, but she'd never said anything. It had taken him months before he'd been able to resume anywhere near normal relations with her but he'd blamed that on his weakness and recuperation. In fact, his 'inability' had been more emotional than physical.
The memories sometimes came out in nightmares, usually after especially traumatic events, but again, no one pushed him on it. He had enough other things in his background that no one suspected that particular trauma. Janet Frasier probably knew more about his medical history than anyone and even she didn't know.
Well, now one person knew – and she happened to be the one person he would never, ever have wanted to know.
He too had felt ashamed and angry and 'powerless – although rationally he knew there was no reason for shame. It hadn't been his fault – he was the victim and had been totally powerless to resist. He knew it wasn't his fault, knew it was an extreme act of violence and control – it just didn't make him feel better to recognize that. As he walked down the trail he jammed his toe into the side of the hill, the physical pain giving him a short reprieve from the emotional pain.
Damn! Why did this have to happen just as everything was going well. He was suddenly so exhausted he couldn't take another step. Leaning against the side of the hill he slowly lowered himself to the ground, burying his head in his hands.
Sam continued to stand still, trying to figure out what had just happened. She did know that the anger had left her as suddenly as it had come. She just felt – drained – and oh God, guilty. She remembered what she'd said to the Colonel, and how he'd looked. How could she have lashed out at him like that? The worst part was she didn't even think of him that way.
She knew he wasn't stupid. In fact, he was far from stupid. In many ways he was brilliant. Okay, so he couldn't explain wormhole physics – so that put him in league with about 99.999% of the entire earth. She knew she could never have fallen in love with a stupid man – and he was also about as far away from your typical macho idiot as you could find. She'd rarely worked with an officer who was so completely lacking in sexism. He valued people for who they were and didn't treat women any different from men – as long as they pulled their weight. She'd known this about the Colonel almost from the beginning – and it was one of the reasons she'd fallen for him.
God – when she thought again of all she'd said to him. She knew she desperately needed to apologize – she also knew it would be difficult. As far as the other was concerned – well, she was trying to avoid dealing with it.
Again she knew she'd been unfair. Heck, more than unfair, she'd been hateful to him when all he'd tried to do was help. On top of that he'd confessed what she was certain was a very closely held secret, just to help her. She knew what an intensely private man he was, and what that must have cost him. Somehow she had to let him know how sorry she was.
Turning quickly she followed him down the trail. She hoped he hadn't gone far as it was beginning to get dark. It didn't take long before she spotted him sitting, leaning against the side of a hill, his head held in his hands. He looked the classic figure of despair.
She walked up quietly, although she knew he knew she was there. She slowly lowered herself to the ground beside him, sitting close but not touching.
"I'm sorry Jack." she spoke softly, calmly. He didn't respond at all.
"I'm so sorry", she repeated. "I don't know what was wrong with me. I was just filled with anger and for some reason it all spilled out on you. You have to believe me Jack, I didn't mean any of the things I said. I just – for some reason – I wanted to hurt someone to make my pain go away. Please, say you'll forgive me?" She waited for him to speak. Finally, after what seemed forever, he lowered his hands. In the growing darkness of twilight she could see what looked like tears on his face.
"It's okay", he replied, equally as softly. "I really do understand." He laughed, a very hollow sound. "Been there, done that. I said some pretty horrible things to Sara. Can't believe she stuck with me."
"She probably realized you really didn't mean them."
"Yeah, I hope so."
"And I hope you know I didn't really mean what I said." When he didn't answer she could feel her heart beat in fear. God, he wasn't going to forgive her.
"It's okay Sam. Let's just forget it okay?"
"No Jack, I don't think we can. I think we need to talk."
"Talk? I think we've both done enough of that. Maybe we should just head back."
"Jack please. You offered to help me – well now I'm returning the favor. You shared something with -"
He jerked away abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this Carter."
"Why not?" she asked, trying to stay calm.
"I only told you so you would believe me – I didn't mean for this to be a counseling session."
"So, it's not true?"
"What?"
"You're saying you only said that so I would believe you – does that mean it's not true?"
He stared at her and then closed his eyes. "It's true."
A hand reached out and took his. He wanted to pull away but this time she wouldn't let him.
"Please! Can't you tell me?"
"Why Carter? Why do you need to know? Do you want all the gory details, is that it?"
"No, and I don't think I need to know but I do think you need to tell me."
He laughed softly. "I've gotten by a lot of years without telling anyone Major. I don't see why I should change that now. What's done is done. There's nothing I can do about it so it's best to leave it alone."
"Jack – if you truly don't want to talk about it I'll understand. Can you just tell me one thing?" she asked pleadingly.
He turned and faced her directly. "What?"
"Did you get over it?" she asked.
"Over it?"
"Yeah. Right now I feel so – so destroyed and I feel like I'll never get over it. Do you still think about it? Do you have nightmares, flashbacks? Are you over it?"
"I don't know what to say Sam. Of course you learn to live with it. Over it? Well, I guess it's like everything else bad in life, you stick it in a closet and – you deal with it."
"And you don't think it would help to talk about it? Maybe getting it out of that closet would make it easier to deal with."
He closed his eyes, wondering if she was right. A week ago – heck a couple of hours ago he would have said an absolute no to the thought of talking about it. Right now, however, it had unsheathed its horrible, dirty claws and was threatening to take him down with it and consume him. He figured that he and Sam weren't going anywhere now, after all that had happened. Maybe it was time to bring it out in the open.
"I'd been there for a couple of months. There were a few of us although our numbers dwindled. Some died, some were taken away and I never found out what happened to them. Most of the time we were simply ignored. We were thrown in tiny little cells, often not even big enough to even lie out in completely. The food and water were awful – I think I lost about 40 pounds! We were taken occasionally and interrogated. As the senior officer present I got most of the questioning. Sometimes that's all it was – just questions. Other times they'd use other 'methods' to try and extract information."
He was speaking slowly, carefully, his mind having transported him back to those horrible months.
"They loved to use these rubber clubs although I think their preferred method was electricity. It took me a long time after I'd returned from Iraq to even look at a car battery."
God – she hadn't had any idea how bad it had been for him. And, she suspected, there was worse to come.
"There was this one guard there – Amal was his name. He was the only one who seemed to show me any kindness. He'd help me after I'd been beaten, sometimes bringing extra food or bandages. I began to think of him as my only friend in that place." He snorted "Boy, was I wrong."
"One day, about nine or ten weeks in, Amal came to my cell with a couple of other guards. One of them was a real sadist - he'd been responsible for a lot of the interrogation. Anyway, Amal told me to come with them. They escorted me down this hall to a small room." Here he stopped, finding it almost impossible to continue. Sam could see the sheen of sweat on his face, even in the moonlight.
"What happened?" she asked gently.
"They took me into the room. God Sam, I can't. Please – let's just go back – I can't do this!" She reached over and leaned against him, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.
"It's okay my love. I'm here. You don't need to worry about anything. If you don't want to talk you don't have to. Just know that no matter what it won't change how I feel about you."
Her words were comforting, although he wished she'd spell out exactly how she did feel about him! However, there was that 'my love' – that was a good sign.
He took a deep breath – knowing he might as well continue. Maybe this would help.
"All that was in the room was a table." He stopped again. Suddenly, she knew what he was going to say – and she didn't know if she could bear to listen. Why had she started this? She hugged him tighter.
"You know the most horrible part of the whole thing?" he asked. "It was Amal – the man I thought of as my friend. He turned out to be the one behind the whole thing. For some reason he'd 'taken a liking' to me – and decided to act on it. He had the others hold me down and then – well, you really don't need those details. By the time they were all finished I was in pretty bad shape. They took me back to my cell and left me there. I wanted to die."
Her tears were flowing at his words. How had this man born so much? How could he have picked up the pieces of his life after that? She realized again, how much courage Jack O'Neill truly possessed.
"What got you through it?" she asked in a small voice.
"That? I guess I didn't have any choice. I could have killed myself but I refused to give the bastards that satisfaction. No – I just did. It was when I got home to Sara that I began to heal. She just – loved me." He felt a little uncomfortable talking about Sara to Sam – but at the same time he still loved his ex-wife for all she had done for him. He was no longer 'in-love' with her, but she would always be an important part of his life.
"And that's what you were offering me and I threw it back in your face. I'm so sorry Jack."
"Hey – it's okay. As I told you, I said some pretty awful things to Sara."
"So, what happened to the men who attacked you?" She wasn't sure he'd finished his story and she knew he needed to.
"Oh, they were around for the rest of my time there. They – there was once more, just before I was rescued. When the marines arrived there was a battle and Amal was killed. I was in really rough shape – had to be taken out on a stretcher – but I'll never forget seeing his body lying there." By this time Sam could tell that Jack's emotions were skating a fine line. She could hear the sob in his voice and prayed that getting him to talk was a good thing. She again hugged him and this time reached up and kissed his neck and then his cheek.
"Thank you", she whispered. He suddenly returned her hug, fiercely and leaned into her neck with his face. It took her a moment but she suddenly realized he was crying – and not gently – he was sobbing loudly and from the depths of his soul. Years of anguish and hurt were being released.
For the longest time she simply held him and rocked him gently as he let out the emotions of so many years. As he finally calmed down and the crying stopped she rested her cheek against his – their tears mixing together.
"I love you Jack", she whispered. "I love you."