AN: Thank you isabel for your encouraging feedback. You made my day, too (smile). And this story has nothing to do with the furry creature sitting (okay sleeping) in my living room.
SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1-SG1
Oscar - Year Two
By Neiths Arrow
Warning: This chapter is a little dark.
:-x
Year Two - Secrets
The lone occupant of the darkened room contemplated his past deeds as a Special Forces operative. He was sickened by the similarities between the death of the reporter Armand and his own experience with the assassination of various undesirables throughout his career. By returning to duty in the Air Force, he though he had left the blackness of those years behind. Never once had he performed his 'duty' on American soil. It would somehow sully the purity of his motives. He had thought he was fighting for the good guys. Now, the disillusioned airman had his doubts.
A 'mrrr!' and slight stirring on his lap let him know he had been lost in thought once again, so he resumed stroking the soft fur. Jack O'Neill didn't speak and quickly lost consciousness of the fact that he was stroking the stray cat that had once again snuck into his home. Jack ran through each mission to determine if he could identify the operative. He knew there were some sick bastards within Black Ops who would stop at nothing to experience the joy of killing once again. Those dangerous wolves in thin clothing of civility were rarely on home soil. It seemed the higher ups didn't want such sickness in their midst, so they were kept overseas.
Oscar enjoyed the human's distraction. It was only when he sat in darkness that the human groomed his fur. It reminded the young feline of when his mother used to lick his fur with her proportionally large tongue. Though the humans didn't appear to use their tongues for washing, their long-toed paws did well for that purpose. Oscar pushed his head into the conforming paw and basked in the attention. He soon fell asleep.
The cat was startled awake when the human grabbed a handful of his fur suddenly. In retaliation and self-defense, Oscar wrapped his unsheathed front claws around the human's arm and bit down until he was released. He bounded out of the dark cave to the safety of the outdoors.
Jack stared down at the puncture wounds and claw marks on his arm as he washed the blood away distractedly. He mind was on another time – other blood. He was still pondering what had caused him to clench his body in a rigor of remembrance. The cold, soulless eyes that had haunted him ever since the mission in the early 90's came back into his waking memory. He had been so horrified by the actions of the assassin that he had given up his career in Black Ops and moved back to team Special Ops missions.
Back then, O'Neill had begun to see a hint of those soulless eyes looking back at him from the mirror each morning after his solo missions. It scared him enough to make him quit because it had felt obscene to have such evil lurking inside him while touching his innocent son. Sara may never have learned of his past deeds, but she was aware of the shift in his attitude when her husband left the dangerous work.
Back in the present, the Airman noted that it was surprisingly easy to revert back to his past behavior. Black Jack, as he was known back then, planned his revenge.
:-x
Oscar had stayed away from the Human's den for almost a week. The memory of the attack was still fresh in his mind. But the memory of the easy food and companionable warmth drew him back. He watched from a tree branch while the tall one stealthily entered the rear sliding glass door in the middle of the night. The door was left partially opened in invitation, so the silent cat slinked into the home. He jumped on the back of the couch to sit near the fellow warrior. He could sense the human's satisfaction over a well-executed hunt and kill. Oscar understood this feeling well. Both killers hid in the silent comfort of darkness while waiting for the sanity of daylight.