Here's the next chapter. A warning – this chapter contains some torture (not too graphic) and nudity – also not graphic. Sorry folks – it fits where I'm going with the story.
As requested, this chapter is longer. I hope you enjoy and thank you to those who have reviewed – please send more!
"Sir", she cried. She saw him go down as something hit him in the back. She watched as the helicopter hovered for a couple of seconds and then headed out so as not to be in the line of enemy fire.
Keeping as low as possible she ran towards his position. By this time a number of Iraqi soldiers were standing surrounding him. One moved up and kicked him in the side.
God – if she only had a weapon, she would have shot the bastard! What kind of person kicks a wounded man?
The Iraqis hadn't appeared to notice her as yet – whether it was because they were focused on Jack or because she wasn't visible to them she didn't know. She didn't want to take any chances though. If she got captured too it would reduce their chances of escape – at least for a long time. From what she could remember, she thought that Jack had been a prisoner for a number of months.
She crouched down by the body of a dead soldier trying to take cover.
"I'm sorry, soldier", she whispered. She reached out softly and touched his cold face.
She continued to watch as two of the Iraqi soldiers grabbed Jack's arms and hauled him up. Still unconscious, one of the soldiers hoisted him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. They then turned and headed back in the direction in which they had come.
All of this could only have taken a few minutes but time had seemed to stand still. Sam continued to follow the Iraqis – not sure of what she should do – but sure that she couldn't leave Jack.
They eventually came to a jeep and all piled in – Jack still hanging half over the back of one of the soldiers. They had tied his hands together and he was still unconscious. Sam could see the dark, and spreading stain on his upper back.
What to do now, she thought? At that precise moment she tripped over something lying in the path and did a glorious face-plant with an accompanying, and very loud, "oooomph"! The Iraqis didn't even look her way. Obviously they couldn't see or hear her. That was a relief.
"Okay – that seems to be that", she thought. They must not know I'm here. She then continued (although still carefully) to the jeep and, just as it was taking off, grabbed onto the rear and hauled herself up on the bumper, hanging on for dear life. Still, the Iraqis paid her no attention.
They traveled through the desert for what seemed like hours. It began to grow dark and still they drove on. A few times she could see Jack move and one time heard him groan but he never seemed to truly regain consciousness. She continued to hang on tightly, becoming more and more tired as they bumped over the uneven desert ground.
Finally, just as the sun was setting, they drove up to a gray building surrounded by high wire fencing and patrolled by at least a dozen guards.
The driver of the jeep stopped at the checkpoint, motioned back to where Jack lay, spoke loudly and laughed. The guard laughed as well and waved the jeep on through. When they arrived at the front of the building the soldiers jumped out. Two of them again grabbed Jack and, draping his arms over their shoulders, dragged him through the doors and inside.
Sam continued to follow, hoping that Jack was okay. The one thing that gave her hope was that she knew he had survived this the first time out, and also, she didn't think it was in the alien's plans for him to die at this point. Still, she hated the thought that he was hurt – and was worried about what would happen next.
She never knew any of the details of Jack's time in Iraq. She had always known it must have been bad. She had seen his anger and unforgiving attitude to Cromwell, a man who at one time had been his best friend. Knowing Jack, it would have taken something terrible to wipe away years of friendship like that. Also, she had heard stories from other airmen and officers about the horrible conditions in Iraqi prisons. The very fact that Jack refused to talk about is was evidence of how bad it must have been for him. The worse the situation, the harder or more painful the event, the less Jack would talk about it. Something like a stubbed toe or a paper cut and you'd hear about it for days. If it were torture or true pain or agony you never heard a thing from him. It was as if he intentionally locked those memories away and refused to bring them out into the open.
Jack was quickly taken by the soldiers into what was obviously some kind of crude infirmary. The doctor or medic in the room motioned to a gurney where Jack was dropped, with no consideration of his wound, onto his stomach.
The medic slowly made his way over to the unconscious man and poked at him – finally feeling his neck for a pulse. When it was clear that the American was still alive, he reached over and grabbed a scalpel. Sam thought for a moment that the Iraqi was going to hurt Jack but soon realized he was simply cutting away his shirt to get to the wound.
Once his shirt had been cut off, it was quickly revealed that Jack had been shot just under the right shoulder blade. The Iraqi doctor began by cleaning the wound and then took a probe and searched for the bullet. Jack began to move as if regaining consciousness. Rather than giving him something for the pain – or to knock him out – the medic simply shouted and the guards came up to the gurney and held the General down. The Iraqi doctor continued to probe to find the bullet.
By this time, Jack had regained consciousness and was trying to move away from the incredible agony in his back. Not completely aware as of yet, he didn't know what was happening, except that the pain was terrible. He started to feel nauseous and soon began to vomit. As he was lying face down on the gurney there was a danger of him suffocating so one of the guards simply grabbed his hair and pulled his head away from the bed so that he could throw up over the floor.
Finally, the doctor shouted something – obviously he had discovered the bullet. He picked up a different instrument from the tray by his side and inserted it into the wound. Jack, by this time, had stopped vomiting although he continued to have dry heaves and had begun to shake uncontrollably. At further words from the medic the soldiers held him even tighter, trying to keep him from moving too much. The doctor continued to move the instrument until finally, with a grunt, he pulled it, and the bullet, out.
Jack let out a soft whimper and continued to shake. The soldiers let him go and he attempted to curl up on his side. The doctor spoke sharply and one of the Iraqis grabbed him and held him down again. The doctor then took what must have been some kind of antiseptic and poured it over the wound. Jack immediately cried out and then went limp as he fell unconscious.
Sam herself was trembling, watching the incredible sadism of this Iraqi doctor who hadn't even given Jack a painkiller. It was like something out of the Middle Ages she thought.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. She was pretty sure the Iraqis weren't aware of her presence but it still seemed wise to be cautious. She didn't know who she was speaking to at this point – the aliens, who she hoped could hear her, or the Iraqis who she hoped couldn't.
"Please, stop this", she cried, this time hoping the aliens would hear. "You know he is a good man. Why are you doing this? Hasn't he been through enough?"
Not surprisingly, there was no answer and no alien appeared. It was very obvious that she meant nothing to the aliens and they certainly weren't about to respond to her.
At that moment she looked back towards where Jack lay on the table. The doctor had bandaged the wound and then motioned to the soldiers to take him away. They carried him out of the room and Sam followed.
They continued down the hall until they came to a cell with a metal door. Opening the door they took Jack over the to the small cot in the corner and roughly dropped him on it, thankfully throwing his jacket on top of him. Laughing, they then exited, locking the door behind them.
They weren't even going to watch him to make sure he was okay, she thought. He could die here and they didn't even care. In some ways it was surprising they had even given him the minimal amount of medical aid they had.
She went over to the cot and carefully sat down. She tried to make Jack as comfortable as possible and carefully put his jacket on him – watching to not disturb the bandages. She sat with his head resting in her lap and held one of his hands tightly. She tried resting beside him, as tears ran down her face.
"Oh Jack, how do you get into these situations? You are such a good and decent man, why can't someone, somewhere give you a break? You deserve some peace and happiness in life."
As she sat there, in the dark of the Iraqi night, she thought about all that Jack O'Neill meant to her and to the many people he had helped and saved. She thought of Teal'c – the Jaffa who had left his 'false God' to follow Jack. She thought of Daniel who looked up to Jack as an older brother. She thought of Cassie who adored her Uncle Jack – and thought of him, in many ways, as a surrogate father. There were so many others, so many of the men and women in the Air Force who looked to him as a role model and as a hero.
"If anyone is listening up there", she murmured, "now would be the time to help him."
The silence continued. Eventually, Sam leaned over and began to doze. It was interesting, she thought. She felt like she had been awake for days and yet felt no hunger or thirst. She did, however, feel so tired, so very tired.
She slept.
Commodo non operor is. Commodo , permissum suus vado.
Ego diligo suus. Ego diligo suus. Non vulnero suus
Sam woke up suddenly, hearing words she couldn't understand. At first completely confused as to where she was or what was happening, she quickly realized that it was Jack who was speaking.
Damn it, she thought. He's speaking Ancient. Obviously he had received a download. Did this mean the same thing was going to happen as before? Well, one thing at a time, she told herself. There's nothing we can do if that's the case. Right now I just have to see if I can help him.
Jack was clearly burning up with fever and was delirious. He kept muttering in Ancient – Although she caught a few words she had learned through Daniel, she really had no idea what he was saying. She did catch her name a couple of times.
"Jack, Jack, wake up", she gently shook him. He continued to mutter, mostly in Ancient although some English words came through. She thought she heard Charlie's name as well as Frank and Daniel. His brain must be leaping back and forth across time, she thought.
"Jack, come on. Wake up."
Finally, she saw him slowly open his eyes. After a few moments he seemed to focus in on her. With a groan he tried to sit up.
"Stay still. You're hurt," she soothed. "It's okay, I'm here and I've got you."
"Carter? Est us vos?"
"I don't know what you are saying, Sir. I think you are speaking in Ancient."
"Huh, ,… Primoris?"
"You've been talking in your sleep and I think it's Ancient. Can you understand me Sir?"
Blinking, he looked up at her blearily. Finally, he seemed to gather some strength.
"Yes, I … can understand you, Carter." He seemed to be becoming more aware and thankfully still seemed to be able to speak and understand English. Maybe it would take longer for the download to take affect this time?
"What's happening? Where are we?"
"Don't you remember, Sir? We are in Iraq. The Iraqis captured you and brought you here. You've been wounded but they removed the bullet."
"Oh yeah. I'm definitely starting to remember that. Remind me to complain to my HMO when I return. I think they sent me to a lousy doctor!"
"You can say that again, Sir. Uh Sir?
"Yes, Carter?"
"Is this what happened the first time you were captured? Are things the same?"
"Uh yeah, for the most part. Of course, you weren't here the first time. And I'm sure I didn't speak Ancient back then either. Other than that, things are pretty much the same. I certainly remember the great medical treatment and cozy accommodations."
"Can you tell me what happens next? I know this must be difficult but maybe it'll help if we both know what to expect."
"I don't see how Carter. It's not like you can stop it or anything".
"Please Jack, what happens next?"
He lay there for a few minutes with his eyes closed. Finally lowering his arm he looked at Sam, his face white and glistening with fever-induced sweat, his eyes partially glazed.
"Well, the first time around they left me here for a few days. I was pretty sick and don't remember too much of it. Once I had started to feel better they took me to another room and, uh, asked me some questions."
"That's all they did – just ask you questions?"
"Well, they did a bit more than ask."
"Sir, please!"
"Okay Carter – what do you want to know. Do you want me to describe in detail what they did to me? Will it help you somehow to know how they hurt me? What good is that going to do Carter? You can't change anything – God, I can't change anything and at least the aliens seem to see me. Just let it go, okay. Let it go."
"Jack – I'm so sorry. I'm not trying to make it worse for you. I want to help and I don't know how. I don't know what I can do", she cried.
"Just being here helps, Sam. This time I'm not alone and you have no idea how that helps. Just please, stay close". For a few moments he lay there quietly, not saying anything until;
"I'm scared Sam, I'm scared. I don't want to go through this again. I almost didn't make it the first time. Just promise me one thing?"
"What is it Sir? You know if it's something I can do I will, I promise."
"When they come to get me, don't come along. Just stay here."
"What – no! I have to stay with you. I'm not leaving you Sir! Absolutely not!"
"Sam, please. I don't want you to see what they're going to do. Please, I don't think I can handle you knowing what they did – are going to do – to me. I could never tell anyone, at least not the details. I never even told Sara because I knew she couldn't live with it. Please Sam, please?"
"Jack, I'm a soldier. I know the kinds of things they can do. I'm not Sara. I don't need to be protected, but I do need to be there."
By this time Jack had clearly grown weaker and was in desperate need of rest. He was still agitated, however, and kept insisting that she not come with him. She finally told him not to worry but just sleep and she would be there when he woke up. As hard as he tried, he could no longer stay awake and drifted off, either to fall asleep or unconscious, Sam couldn't tell. Eventually, she too fell asleep.
The clanging of the door, as it was unlocked and opened, woke Sam up from a deep sleep. She looked over at Jack and was surprised to see that he not only looked somewhat better, it looked like he had a three or four day growth of beard.
What's going on, she wondered? Had they actually been asleep for that long or had time somehow sped up?
"Up American Dog! You will come with me."
Two Iraqi soldiers had entered the cell and were waiting for Jack to get up and follow them.
"Sir?"
"Just stay here Carter. Don't worry – if it's the same as last time I'll be back."
With that, Jack got up and walked over to the door. One of the soldiers grabbed him and twisted his arm up and behind his back.
"Ow – watch that. I'm hurt you know!"
At his words the soldier twisted his arm back farther until Jack grunted in pain.
"Ok aaay", he groaned "enough. I'm coming,"
The Iraqi pushed him out of the cell and the door closed with a clang.
Sam sank down to the cot – torn as to what to do. She didn't want him to be alone – but could tell that the thought of her witnessing his torture – and she was sure that was what was going to happen – disturbed him greatly. Well, he had said he would be back so this time she would listen to him and stay put. Next time …. well, that was a different matter.
The light in the cell got brighter from the tiny window at the top. It also grew much hotter as little air got in. For a while Sam sat and things were quiet. Suddenly, she heard an ear-shattering scream.
"Shit, oh no. Please let that not be the General!"
The screams continued for the next few minutes, at first increasing in volume and intensity. After a while, they grew fainter and farther apart. Eventually, they stopped. Sam sat with her head held between her hands, rocking as if to comfort herself.
"Jack,, oh Jack. Please be okay."
On leaving the cell with the two Bobsy twins – or Ali I and Ali 2 as he named them, Jack tried to maintain an air of insouciance – pretending he was relaxed and couldn't care less as to where they were heading. Inside, he was terrified because he knew exactly where they were heading
Down the long, familiar corridor they walked, Jack sweating and beginning to shake. Don't' let me disgrace myself, he thought. I got through it once, I can get through it again …. I hope.
At least Carter didn't come. He couldn't bear to have her witness his agony, his humiliation. It had almost broken him before – the only thing that kept him sane was that no one, other than the sadistic pigs who had done it to him, knew how low he had fallen.
Oh, he never succumbed and never game them any important information – he had at least been that strong. But, and this was a big but as far as he was concerned, he had broken down on numerous occasions and begged. There was only so much a human body could stand. Iraq and Baal – the two most shameful and humiliating moments in his life and both times he had begged to be put out of his misery, to have the pain and torture stop. He, big, courageous, bad-ass Jack O'Neill had cried like a baby. God, no, not again.
They finally entered The Room! The one where Jack knew his pain was about to begin. Shutting his eyes he hoped, he prayed that it would be different. He then heard a sound, a small cough and smelt that awful smell of cheap cigarettes – the smell he often imagined in his worst nightmares. Oh yes, he was back.
"So, welcome Major. We are so pleased to be able to offer you our warm, Iraqi hospitality. I hope my guards have treated you well?"
Jack stood and said nothing. It was him – the man that always accompanied that smell in those self-same nightmares. Abu Kareem al-Jameel ibn Nidh'aal. Daniel would be astounded to know how well Jack actually spoke Arabic – and how well he remembered the full name of the warden of the prison. The inmates referred to him as Kareem. To Jack he was simply the 'Sadistic Bastard'.
The Bastard made a small motion of his head and the guards again grabbed Jack and moved him closer to Kareem to where two rings with dangling straps were hanging from the ceiling. Kareem pushed a button and the rings lowered. They then forced the straps around each of Jack's wrists. He attempted to struggle, knowing it was useless, but not wanting to make it too easy for guards. Once his wrist restraints were secured Kareem pressed the button again and the rings lifted until Jack was hanging only an inch or so above the floor – just enough so that his toes would touch if he stretched his feet, but not enough to support him.
The pressure on his shoulders, arms and wrists was intense and the pain from his wound flared immediately. Jack was sure he could feel blood flowing from his back as the healing tissue was split open.
Once his arms were secure, the guards each grabbed a leg and proceeded to fasten his ankles to other rings in the floor. His legs were separated and splayed out, making the hanging position even more agonizing.
Jack began to have trouble getting a lung-full of air. He knew if he were left in the position too long he could suffocate.
"So, my American friend, now that we are a bit more comfortable let us begin. Tell me who you are and what you are doing here."
"Jonathan J. O'Neill, General, United States Air Force, 67523469" (He wondered if giving his present rank, rather than the rank of Major as he had been when captured the first time, would make any difference to the scenario).
"No, no, no, Major. Let's not be so formal. I want to know who you really are and why you are here. You are a dirty spy sent to infiltrate our fair country. Tell me truthfully, why are you here."
"Jonathan J. O'Neill, General, United States Air Force, 67523469" (Okay – so the General thing didn't work, but damned if he was going to play along – the scenario didn't seem like it could be changed, at least by him).
"Jonathan, Jonathan – if that's your real name. You are forcing me to do something I really don't want to do. I don't want to hurt you but you are forcing me. It is wrong for you to lie."
At that, Kareem motioned to one of the soldiers who walked over to the cabinet in one corner of the room and brought out a large, square box and some cords.
Jack knew what was coming – had, in fact, known since he had arrived at this place. He took as deep a breath as he could, closed his eyes and thought of Sam.
The guards moved up to Jack and proceeded to cut his clothes off.
Oh yeah, he remembered this part. There's nothing quite so 'vulnerable' as hanging naked in front of sadistic men just waiting to torture you.
Bobsy twin – Ali I - began to place clips in the most tender places on his body. Yup, remembered that one. Inside, his heart was beating so fast he was surprised everyone in the room couldn't hear or see it.
As soon as all the clips were in place, Kareem began attaching the wires, doing it carefully and methodically as if he were creating a piece of art. Maybe that's what this was, to him, thought Jack. Yup – Sadistic Bastard all right!
Finally, although too soon for Jack, he was finished. Kareem stepped back and took a look at his victim.
"There Jonathan, now we are ready. One more time, who are you and why are you here?"
Okay, here goes, thought O'Neill.
"Jonathan J. O'Neill, General, United States Air Force, 67523469
Kareem nodded to his guard who flipped a switch.
The torture began.
