[Updated 29/08/2017]

Chapter Nine: RAW Truths in Remembrances

The Colonel's world blurred and clear conception faded away like the setting sun over the horizon. At that point, the memories began. Flashbacks Jack O'Neill could not control, only submit to as it reeled in his dreams.

[Year One]

With the team newly formed, I knew we would struggle to get proper footing, figuratively speaking. Teal'c was a former First Prime to Apophis. Daniel lost his wife to the same Goa'uld. Sam, she was fresh off the block in terms of Gate travel – in the military she was a Captain eager to prove herself. Then there was me, not a stranger to what was out there in the Universe, recently divorced, and still mourning the death of my son.

Details, which failed to calm my nerves or my concern.

Sam went missing in the dead of night, probably sold as a slave to the opposing Mongol chief. Whom I had heard did not treat his women so nicely.

'How dare he take a member of my team?' I thought then.

Wasn't the world past this barbaric behaviour – America was, but some countries still considered their women as slaves, nothing more than possessions.

And I loathed it.

I should have been more protective, regardless of her encouragement that she was okay. I should have insisted, checked up on her during the celebration. However, we had tread upon another man's territory and culture, and due to the valuable medical supplies this Shavadia could provide, the team had to obey and follow their rules. Obviously, Daniel's 'study' reasoning also had won the argument. That, and frankly, the beauty of a blue dress Sam had to wear.

It had definitely solidified our stay.

When the four of us stood in the tent negotiating with Turgen, I realized the significance of Sam's worth in the team, her worth to me as her C.O. I was willing to increase the price until we got her back safe and sound, but the filth of a man refused to surrender, and I offered him my Beretta instead. He was firstly a warrior thirsty for action, for power, he would take it without hesitation and so he did.

We had achieved our objective – Sam was safe and within my care . . . SG1's care.

The sudden tension built up through the day had dissipated as the distance grew between the camp and us. That night we all sat around the fire, the Captain confessing how glad she was to see us and I just couldn't resist teasing her. Her smile was so . . . infectious. Yes, her smile was contagious . . . as were her blues eyes, youthful glow, and confidence. Until she decided, she would fight for the women's freedom – for both tribes offensive and defensive.

Oy! She was a brave one and I couldn't help but back her up, especially when she challenged the man who had bought her. I was suddenly proud of her and I could understand why she had joined Stargate Command – a brave firecracker only wanting my approval. I was her hero.

A hero . . . in some way, it felt good to know, but I also knew not to encourage it. I was a Colonel, she a Captain – I had to make sure that we stayed within those ranks.

Once again, tension wrapped around my emotions; her safety was on the line, again. She assured she would be okay, and strangely enough, I believed her. Then knives got involved and my heart raced like rapid M60 fire. I wasn't ready to explain to her next of kin that I had allowed her to fight till the death for somebody's freedom.

I gripped my weapon, wincing, angry that I couldn't use it.

She fought like an intelligent fighter and her victory came as no surprise. Dang! She earned another level of respect from me and I earned a whopping smile in return.

I won't lie; her behaviour caused more harm than good in our first year. Some days it was appealing and on some, it was not.

And, I couldn't ignore the fact that she was growing on me.

[Year Two]

I was pinned against the wall. As if the message in the bottle had decided, I was the perfect donkey to pin its tail on. I was a living breathing pincushion and it hurt. Not a little bit, not like a mosquito bite, no, it hurt worse than a damn bullet. It hurt worse than a heartache, worse than life itself.

I couldn't decide if death was the only thing that could save me or the submission to the odd sensation it had injected into my body upon impact.

In that moment, I could barely make out the audience watching me. They were too stunned to realize what the stupid ball with arrows had done. It was a massive threat, and as such, I treated it, when Teal'c approached. I wanted to kill it (with a vengeance). Whatever it was, it needed to go, take its horrendous pain with it.

T took off like a cheetah after its prey, and then my audience came to, scrambling about like headless chickens.

I shouted and screamed bloody murder; sweat and tears streamed down my face as I hung like a wounded piñata. Ironic, one pole had already opened a gap in this delicate Minnesotan, what was a few more?

The S.G.C. chickens filtered into the Gate Room, with Sam leading them. By then, I was too angry to notice her concern, too numb to be thankful, 'cause I knew. I knew they couldn't help me. Frankly, I didn't want their help. Teal'c was the one I had requested, not them. This was a brutal attack and I needed him to be ruthless as well.

"Where's Teal'c?" I growled furiously, while Fraser and Sam offered comfort.

'No comfort needed here . . .' I shouted within, but they were oblivious as to what was really happening, regardless of their assessments.

They could not know the pole was hot as hell and with this tremendous heat, came more pain that was excruciating. Heck, I could not understand it either, and fear encompassed my mind and filtered into my emotions.

Everything within me fought an unknown incident, trying hard to comprehend what it was rejecting. I channelled this bombarding confusion, pain, and fear into the Jaffa's name, shouting now with more vigour and urgency. I wanted it to stop. I begged it to stop.

It did not . . . for a long while – it felt like hours as it gradually consumed my will, emotions and lastly, my mind. My body did not matter; it was the first to go. I felt numb – a half-dead soldier, a puppet on a string, struggling to obey its master, hating every bit of it.

Events twisted and turned, warped into a blur, as if I was looking through a grimy window. This clouded my mind as it drifted in a thick blanket crushing down on my strategic thoughts. Nothing could out manoeuvre it; nothing could release its hold on me.

Except for what followed next . . .

I felt a gentle touch on my knee and a soft hand in mine. The mention of my rank pierced through, like light reaching its way beyond the unknown. The familiar voice came again, slivering through my emotions and mind. It felt so good, I wanted to cry, sob like a woman who just gave birth to a beautiful baby.

Sam's voice was like honey while she explained something to me. She was asking for my surrender, to entrust my life to her. During the contest, during my stubbornness, I knew she would find a way and she had, irrespective of the undercurrent of doubt I heard in her voice. I trusted her, wanted her to be correct, needed her to save me, 'cause I couldn't fight anymore.

I squeezed her hand yielding my life to her, not because it was an insane request, which should have been termed as asinine, but due to the artefact's influence. It wanted what she had requested.

In the end, I had survived the strange and ferocious impaling and I had discovered the strength of those surrounding me, especially that of Sam Carter.

Ah, nuts! I was in trouble.

[Year Three]

"We just want you to go AWAY!" I shouted with cold anger.

Hathor toppled over the railing and fell into the freezing pit below. Finally, she was dead, gone with the wind, pushing up daisies.

I watched for a while, confounded that it had actually happened.

Hathor was dead! Revenge best served cold and she was feeling it all right. It was sweet bliss until I remembered why I had done it. I had fought off the beast, tearing her away from my 2IC and had defeated the snakehead, for the last time.

A victory I would gladly share at the end of this puzzling mission.

To my right, Carter lay on the floor barely moving. I knelt down beside her and jerked her upright, checking that she was alright, 'cause I sure wasn't. The one minute I had a snake in my head and the next I was fine. It was disconcerting, a freaking wonder I was still Jack O'Neill.

Perplexed blues eyes examined me. "Sir, what happened?" She asked confused.

Relief flooded my insides as I embraced her, holding on as tightly as I could. I was alive, she was alive, – we were alive. Breathing, we were breathing.

"Hathor…is….ha…gone." I swallowed deeply as bile rose in the back of my throat.

Secretly, I was thankful that I was shaking involuntarily. It hid my real fear; being someone, I clearly did not want to be – a nasty snakehead. Fearful I would be fighting against my team and not with them. Concerned, I wouldn't be able to back them up. Instead, I would be killing good, faithful soldiers. I would rather die myself than let that happen.

"What about you?" She whispered breathless.

I quickly informed her: "I'm…cold…a little…chilly. But….I'm me. I'm me."

The lingering nauseating feeling slowly vanished. With Carter in my arms, I knew I was myself. I was Jack O'Neill, weak and vulnerable, and I was thankful she was the person seeing me like this.

In that precious moment, we were both each other's security, albeit a few minutes.

[Year Four]

Metal sliding against metal reverberated behind me as the Gate shield slid tightly shut. Carter stood in front of me on the ramp, scowling at me, whilst the faint sound of a body hitting the shield echoed in my ears.

Behind her, stood the rest of my team, Siler and General Hammond, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of Carter. Hammond said something in the background and I agreed all the while staring into her blue eyes, which briefly flitted between the 'Gate and mine.

Disappointment flooded my insides.

For the first time, it silenced me, silenced my 2IC, Teal'c and Daniel. There was nothing left to say and it engulfed the space we were standing in.

Everyone knew our mission had failed – we had failed to acquire the technology the Eurodans so freely offered us. Everything had been a mess, and my team split in opinions – not what I had wanted when we returned from missions, especially with Carter looking at me the way she did. She had stood by me through the whole thing loyal as a dove. However, I had turned her into a serpent by commanding her to follow my orders.

I had let her down, let myself down.

A rock formed in the pit of my stomach. Her gaze penetrated through my military veneer; ensnared between begging for forgiveness and explaining myself. Yet nothing came and neither did she say anything.

If I understood this correctly, she was stunned and at a loss for words. As was I, and I disliked it. I always had something to say whether it was a joke or a provocation.

"We'll debrief in one hour." Hammond said.

"Yes, Sir." I replied.

Carter's eyes stayed on me as the soldiers gradually left the room. It tore through me, slicing like a sharp double-edged sword and I let it, because I deserved it. I surrendered to every unspoken word and every raw filled emotion, allowing it to tear to pieces the thoughts concerning the mission, thoughts concerning what was developing between us.

Once I zoned back to reality, her boots echoed down the ramp, her back turned towards me, even as the image of her gaze plagued my conscience. It was no surprise when guilt clawed at me. I had shown her a side of me that would haunt her, 'cause the consequences of my decision would definitely stay with me for a long time. So would her shock.

It would plague my dreams forever.

[Year Five]

I heard Carter's terrified voice, her tussle on a gurney, and then muffled voices. I burst through the door to find two doctors standing over her. The Major was desperately trying to get away, however couldn't, as her hands were cuffed to the bed's railing. The one Doctor had a big honking needle in his hand, and then I knew, if I were a fraction too late, she would have been done with, gone forever.

She would have been a miserable loss to me, and a painful memory to those at the S.G.C.

Fear tore at me in that moment and I did the first thing that came to mind. I shouted with gun raised in aggression, "Hold on! Drop it! Drop it, right now! Don't even fool around! Put it down!" I shoved my gun against the nearest doctor and shoved him and his co-worker in Harry's direction.

I briefly noted how he pinned them against the wall, and then looked at Carter, "Are you alright?"

She was breathless from the wrestle, but like a good soldier she answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Very dramatic thank you."

"You bet." I said, comforted that she was out of harm's way.

Her gaze drifted from mine in the direction of the Doctors then back to me, "Keys to the cuffs are in his pocket."

Harry grabbed them, threw it over and I un-cuffed her hands, a reassured smile gracing my lips as I did so. It was indeed a huge relief to know the Major would be by my side once more.

Later, laying in the infirmary, the repercussions of my actions hit me like those two bullets – one hit my vest saving me as I did Carter, but the other one wounded my arm mirroring the escape of the Goa'uld.

I admit, I was dramatic, over the top bad ass, which was Carter's fault or rather the now snakehead, Conrad, that drew it out of me. Again, I was in a situation where I had to place her well-being over the apprehension of said rat.

For crying out loud! Concern rippled through me like ocean waves from the get-go, going as far as to involve Harry Maybourne – the slickest serpentine and spook the N.I.D had ever created. Even Frank Simmons, Harry's recruit was in the mix. That's how far I went to rescue Carter. How much I had allowed the concern to drive and compel me to fulfil the goal.

Gazing at her where she now stood across from me, understanding struck me at how desperate I really was; how far I went, arranging a SWAT team to be on standby before we infiltrated the deserted Hospital. All to rescue her, which was funny, 'cause I was the one carried out on a stretcher.Carter walked out unscathed, happy as can be, although a little shaken by what had happened, but her old self – beautiful, intelligent, and vibrant.

However thankful she was for the rescue, she bottom-lined it for us. The outcome was dangerous – an enemy had escaped and it was my fault for placing her life before the mission.

Those weren't her exact words, but my thoughts and what I had seen in her eyes. Whenever her safety was involved, I just could not win. There were consequences, and when I look back at all the things I had done for her sake as well as for the team, I would not change a thing.

She was without a doubt worth it! SG1 was worth it!

(Truthfully, I would've gone way past my morals to rescue her.)

[Year Six]

"So, set the timer for five minutes."

I placed my left hand over my right and showed three minutes instead. I could see Carter's recoiling expression. She disagreed with my decision. In fact, I could sense her need to disobey it.

She stared at my hand. "That's cutting it awfully close, Sir." Then she gazed into my eyes, her tone of voice and piercing eyes relaying her disapproval.

I breathed in, kept my stern expression, drilling her with my eyes and sternly said, "I know that, Major."

She gave the Replicator beside her a fake smile. "Thank you." She supplied.

"You won't leave without me?" He said.

"No," Her smile faded during Fifth's innocent reply and her gaze shortly fell in guilt, but then quickly recuperated, explaining to him what he should do.

That was the last time we saw the Replicator, as we bee lined it out of there for the Ship.

Three minutes later, the time dilation field activated, and we were safely in space; however, my decision haunted me. I sat for a while thinking and rethinking what I had done. What I had asked Carter to do. In my mind's eye, these human-form Replicators posed a more dangerous threat than their bug counterparts did.

I had done the right thing. We had done the right thing. If not, the consequences of our actions, my actions would have been life threatening. Earth and the Milky Way would never be the same again.

Jonas disagreed, accusing that we had used their humanity against them. 'They weren't!' My mind screamed. They were a threat, and threats like these we neutralized.

I stared at Jonas, angry, "His what?" My expression dark.

"Jonas is right. It's exactly what we did." Carter agreed.

I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

I side glanced to the left, where she was sitting at the communication's station. She refused to look me in the eye. Therefore, I justified my order, whilst scowling at her. "He wasn't human." My gaze turned to Jonas as I continued, "Get that through your heads."

"You could have fooled me."

Carter's voice was so soft and bitter. It stung my ears and I turned my full attention on her. Her blue eyes stared at the console, but I could see her anger. It was personal, which made it even more uncomfortable for me to address her.

"We all know what would have happened if those things had gotten out."

Her jaw was set as she fought hard to avoid eye contact. I carried on regardless, addressing Jonas, "Who's gonna stop them? We did the right thing."

My serious tone had suddenly disappeared, tired and let down by their convictions.

"I hope you're right, Sir." Jonas' sad tone came through barely audible, as did Carter's, "So do I."

Was I really the villain in this story? Did I really have to defend . . . hell, justify my decision? Carter, of all people should have understood that what we saw and experienced was nothing more than robots. They were Reese – the Replicator who had thrown Daniel against a wall for proving that she was not human. Carter was there, agreed to shut her down, now she defended one.

Was I missing something? From experience, from the Asgard's mistakes, she should have known better. Now why could I understand this mess and be the only voice of reason?

This time round, I supported my order, however . . .

I was saddened that Carter would second-guess my authority, my credibility as her C.O. and friend. I guess, after Daniel's ascension and my part in it, she still secretly blamed me.

So, was I naïve to think that after six years, she would understand how I operated and thought? That, what I had done then, and now, was for the greater good. No, this time I did not feel guilty nor would I hold it against her. We have the right to have a difference in opinion. I just hope it won't come back to haunt us.

Truthfully, I had been cruelly stung, making a way for uncertainty to enter into my mind, my heart.

Was she still important to me?

Her thoughts were.

I suppose I had solved my own doubt then.

[Year Seven]

We were at it again, the Major AWOL, and me, desperately lagging behind.

It had turned into a race with her in the lead, the Kull warrior second and Teal'c and I bringing up the rear. I struggled to comprehend the predicament – uncertain that she was still alive and that what we were hunting was another dead body. How could I think like that, for crying out loud? Honestly, we had to stop doing this. We really had to stop rescuing one another.

Nonetheless, I kept going, driven by what was chasing her. It wasn't a thief, nor the Jaffa we normally encountered, but a drone soldier, the same warrior, we, as a unit, failed to defeat a mere month ago. They were super Goa'ulds. Monsters in battle suits, ruthless and inhumane – it sent my heart beating like an unrestrained vehicle.

What would happen at the end of this pursuit?

Would the prototype weapon created by the Major for said warrior actually work?

What if I found a dead Sam Carter?

My pulse thrummed as a drummer boy's drum in my ears.

I had to find out if what my heart was shouting was indeed truthful or what my mind thought was incorrect. I refused to accept the latter, 'cause it would suffocate me; squeeze the life from my body.

I allowed anger, anguish, and fear to fuel my emotions, allowed it to burst through my soul like the adrenaline coursing through my system, determined not to surrender. I was resolute to prove my thoughts wrong, 'as she was a resourceful soldier.

She would survive.

I was certain of it.

My heart was spot on, as usual, justified as the assailant fell down in the dirt after two shots. Man, it felt good, as tension and fear fell away like severed restraints.

I looked upon her as she huddled behind the boulder. Her expression set on the fallen warrior.

"Is it?" She asked tiresomely, not bothered to complete her question as she looked up at me.

"Yeah, he's dead . . ." I assured.

Her gaze faltered as she briefly nodded. I regarded her for a few seconds, grateful that she was alive, before asking the Jaffa. "Right Teal'c, he's dead?" Teal'c kicked the soldier, and then curtly nodded.

"Yeah, he's dead." I said in her direction.

Carter nodded her approval, turned her back on the dead soldier, and leaned against the boulder,. Compassion surged within me in that moment. "You wanna get up?" I gently questioned.

She shook her head, "I just need to rest for a minute." I looked at her as she tried to catch her breath. She was exhausted.

I sat down beside her, noting her far off expression. I couldn't imagine what she had gone through, what she had suffered in order to survive. She had fought till the end, despite her injuries, despite her exhaustion. I couldn't help but think whom she had done it for, her father, Pete, the team?

I pushed the thoughts aside and did the only thing I knew I could – comfort her, let her know she was fine. "C'mere." My arm curled around her and she melted into my side, resting her head on my shoulder.

For how long we sat in that position, I didn't know, but I wouldn't let go until the medics arrived. She deserved every bit of security and reassurance I could give her. Heck, she needed it just as much I did.

[Two weeks ago]

Carter stood before me, eyes glistening as she fought back tears. Her effort faded though, for they slowly fell from her blue eyes and gently trickled down her cheeks. Her strength to compose herself, failed miserably. She not only cried for Janet's death, but for the idea that I could have died as well.

I allowed her gratefulness for my life to sink in deep, yearning to embrace her, yearning to comfort and protect her from what she was suffering. I've been there before, knew how it felt to lose someone.

Her sorrow pulled me in and I woefully submitted. I did not stop from approaching her, nor did I counter the compassion and heartache consuming me. It gradually revealed on my face, as I opened my heart to her, to her loss, to our loss of a friend.

We both stood inches away, gazing at one another.

Her expression revealed what was in her heart, not caring that she was vulnerable. While I took in every detail, and seared it into my mind and heart, I myself neither cared that I was vulnerable.

I gave her what we both wanted with one word, "C'mere." And with one action.

I pulled her close, wrapping my arms around her. She accepted the embrace and held on tightly as if it were a dream. As if she tried to convince herself, it was not her imagination playing tricks with her.

Turning my face into her neck, I confirmed it was true, that I was sincere and real, for my care for her had never been pretend. Since our first year, it was and would always be the raw truth – Samantha Carter had crawled her way into my heart and would remain there forever.

Colonel Jack O'Neill woke up with a brook of tears flowing down his cheeks.

Embarrassed, he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand, and then followed the action with his fingertips. They stayed there on the bridge of his nose, as he tried to fight through the haze in his mind. Next, he pressed his palms against his eyes, treating them as he did a soldier, commanding them to stall, forcing them to stop leaking.

Jack's heart had other plans though, overtaking his actions and nibbling at his emotions like a caterpillar a leaf, as he ached for the love and care he had deprived himself of for years.

O'Neill suddenly stilled and surrendered to the pining, his body shaking as it consumed every fibre of his being. His tough exterior which consisted of boldness, confidence, and resigned demeanour crumbled in that moment, for what he had hidden inside burst through his shell, softly seeping through the cracks.

He had not wept like this since the death of his son, someone whom he still dearly loved.

A soft moan slipped through his lips as the memories flooded his mind.

What I wouldn't give to go back and change things, just to say I love you once more. To change what had happened that day.

Flitting back to the memories of Sam Carter, a sorrow filled groan reverberated in his chest.

Arms enveloped him from behind. The warmth of the embrace was intoxicating, comforting, and supportive. He leaned into it, revelling in the way it made him feel, absorbing it as if he was a sponge.

He had missed this.

Jack turned in the embrace, eyes meeting those of Protector's. He was lost, confused and her gaze seemed to draw him in like a magnet. He was swimming in something incredible he argued, justifying his action as he leaned in.

Protector anticipated his advance, placing her hand on his lips.

"My heart is not yours to have." Her words dripped with rejection and so did her standing up.

"You comforted me!" Jack chided. "What did you expect?" His eyes narrowed with the question.

Sympathy washed over her as she observed him. He sat on the bed, clearly tormented by the remembrances in his dreams.

"I expected nothing. I only did what I would do for anyone in pain." She sighed. "I had not realized the extent of your emotional state."

"Yeah," He chuckled under his breath. "Neither did I." His hands covered his face, hiding the shame bubbling within. Clearly, he had made a fool of himself.

"I do not blame you, Jack O'Neill. You hide your feelings very well. It was a battle to extract the proper memories, yet, once you opened your heart, they gushed like a fountain." His hands fell away, gawking. The woman continued, "Truthfully, no one will ever ignite the same kind of passion as Sara O'Neill did. Nevertheless, from the memories chosen, you do feel a great deal for this woman."

"You put me through hell!" Jack gave her a dark look not hiding how he truly felt about the intrusion.

"I merely followed what was already there, which clearly revealed doubt, truth, and fear."

"That's invasion of my privacy!" Jack stood from the bed, stepping towards her in a demanding fashion. "You have no right!" He spat.

In response, she backed away through the open door and disappeared from view, leaving behind a livid soldier.

He turned a darker shade of red, thinking, how dare you? Who gave you permission to poke your nose into my business? Without hesitation, O'Neill followed suit, his boots echoing loudly on the wooden floor. As he exited through the door, the world instantly faded to black and morphed into a misty forest.

"Dammit!" The Colonel exclaimed, frustration slowly simmering within him.