A/N's: so, did you guys like Abdul Radzir? Makes you wonder how he got to know Major Jek... well... thanks for all the reviews and favs, and on with the story.
General Hammond sat behind his desk and absently stirred his coffee. He'd requested copies of some post-mission reports and Colonel Bayfield had gathered a couple and had them delivered to the SGC.
On his desk lay the report from the mentioned mission to Tyberia; the one where he'd guessed O'Neill got captured. He hated to dig into his Second's past this way, but he figured as his Commanding Officer who'd just authorized a solo mission to the area he needed to know every single detail in order to make the right decision when needed.
And Good Lord, he hoped that he wouldn't need the information on hand. He'd prayed for the safety of his 2IC since the man had left the base, cursing him for his determination to do this on his own, cursing himself even more for allowing the man to do so. On the other hand, Hammond couldn't help but feel proud, pleased and impressed knowing it took more than a normal dose of responsibility and guts to do what O'Neill was doing. He could only guess whether he would have the strength and willpower to do the same thing if he'd been in O'Neill's shoes.
He reluctantly opened the dossier. He took the first part in his hands, leaning backwards in his chair and started reading. There had been two teams operating in the area. The first team was under the command of Major Conners. The team had orders to move in, then search for a contact in trouble, rescue him and bring him home. The other team, led by Major O'Neill, had a supporting role; gathering information plus planning the escape route through the mountains up North.
Conners and his men were able to free the contact. They followed the escape route set up by O'Neill's team. Meanwhile, O'Neill and his men stayed behind as a decoy for the Elite troops that were on their tail.
O'Neill led the enemy to the East, allowing Conners to bring the contact to safety. He would have succeeded if they hadn't run into a second group of men coming home unexpectedly from a trip to Iraq. The second group managed to contact the Elite forces in pursuit and together they were able to surround O'Neill and his team.
The other team members' reports of what happened next were a little vague. The best the General could make out of it was that O'Neill had distracted the enemy with grenades; smoke grenades and gunfire, allowing his men to fan out to the Northwest and escape. He'd convinced them he would catch up with them, but a couple of hours later they'd finally realized he hadn't made it.
They'd contacted the base and were ordered to get back to Turkey. From there Special Forces would reassess the situation and come up with a rescue plan. That's where the reports ended, without details about what had happened to O'Neill, or the way they'd planned to get him out.
Hammond sipped his coffee, thinking about what he'd read. O'Neill had already told him he'd made it out on his own. His fist clenched and he bit on his lip. Why in heaven's name had the Forces not sent a team back in? Conners could have gone back? Shaking his head in disbelief he realized he knew the answer. The constant hostilities in the area plus the successful withdrawal of the contact made no further loss of men necessary. O'Neill was considered an unfortunate but necessary casualty, mission accomplished, file closed.
They hadn't counted on a stubborn man like Jack O'Neill, Hammond thought grimly. He scanned the remaining papers in the file and found a short note about O'Neill's escape. It mentioned his imprisonment for eight days plus his three-days trekking through the mountains back to safety.
Taking out the medical report Hammond sat back in his chair again. Turning the pages he soon found out what the Tyberian Elite forces were capable of. The report mentioned the sleep deprivation, the malnutrition, the dehydration; it briefly mentioned the casual beatings plus the breaking of the bones of the subject's arm. It was documented in a very matter-of-fact style, showed no emotion or compassion whatsoever, nor did it give any information about what had really happened, what the real damage had been, not only physically, but mentally as well.
General Hammond cursed. His imagination and years of experience told him all he needed to know. Another bad experience for the record, he thought. It was yet another case of the Air Force abandoning one of its own, for the sake of the greater good. One he was sure O'Neill would want to forget, but Hammond knew it would probably still haunt him during the long, dark hours of lonely nights. Just like Iraq…
Damn.
Now O'Neill was going back to that area, which would certainly bring back some painful memories, along with the frustration of being left behind, with nobody to back him up. He could even better understand the determination the man had shown now. How could O'Neill leave somebody else behind, in a place he knew painfully well? How could the man let that happen to somebody he considered as his friend? It would have been too distressing; to live with the knowledge that he'd abandoned a friend the same way the Air Force had abandoned him years ago. Hammond knew his Second well enough to realize that O'Neill wouldn't let it happen to somebody he didn't know, much less an old friend.
Hammond hit the table with his fist. That damned Colonel Bayfield. He'd known exactly what he'd come to ask. He had known O'Neill wouldn't be able to turn him down.
If only O'Neill could succeed in his mission to free this team. It would give the man some satisfaction, some self-esteem, some control over the past. The General sighed heavily. God help them if something went wrong…
Hammond closed the file and vowed to do everything within his power to help his Second, to have him return home safely. No way on Earth was he going to be the next in line to have left this man behind somewhere on the planet, or in the whole damned galaxy for that matter.
It was five o'clock in the early morning. Abdul Radzir briefly touched the sleeping American's shoulder. "Jek," he urged, his voice low. "It is time to wake up now."
O'Neill immediately opened his eyes, scanned his surroundings and faced his driver. "Morning…" he said in the same low voice. "Where are we?"
"Reaching the Tyberian border soon. We've passed a surveillance post a few miles ago. I do not think they saw us, I stopped the jeep behind the hills until they were out of sight."
Jack took in the nervousness in the man's features. He was obviously scared of the Tyberians. The tension in the never-ending battle between the civilians and the Elite forces must be reaching its limits, he thought grimly. "Okay, I can hike from here. Thanks for driving me."
Abdul Radzir parked the car. "You do have a map?" Detecting the American's slight nod, he wondered how the man planned to get out. "Do you want me to pick you up?"
O'Neill shook his head. "No. I've arranged for transportation back home. Thanks for the offer, though." He leaned backwards to gather his gear and stepped out of the vehicle.
"Be careful, Major Jek. It is very dangerous…" Radzir still couldn't understand why the American had to go to Tyberia. He was just glad the American hadn't asked him to join him on his trip.
Jack gave his contact a brief salute, secured the straps of his backpack and with one last hand waving up in the air; he turned and walked towards the border.
He never looked back, but heard the jeep start up and drive off.
Jack took in the scene in front of him. It was a mountainous landscape with only sparse vegetation. Due to the nearness of the equator the temperatures could rise very high here, making it difficult for most plant life to survive.
O'Neill had traveled through this area before. He knew what to expect. He knew where to look for places to hide and to set up his camp. He'd been here on more than one occasion with his team and the last time, he'd crossed the mountains alone, suffering from a compound fracture of his arm along with the negative side effects of the kind treatment the personnel of 'hotel Ockeloen' inflicted. It wasn't a memory he cherished and he shivered involuntarily.
Forget it, O'Neill. You've got a job to do.
He kept his compass within reach to plan his route and started his hike into the mountains. If he pushed on, he could reach the camp early Saturday morning.
Colonel O'Neill hiked all day making good progress despite the rough terrain. He only stopped briefly for rest, water and a bite to eat. He carefully scanned the area, watching for any possible troops, but they weren't anywhere near him and it seemed safe for him to continue.
Darkness fell early. O'Neill was already looking for a good place to spend the night and soon found one, under some protruding rocks. He took his backpack off, rolled out his sleeping bag and started digging a hole, approximately one yard wide and more than half a yard deep. He opened his backpack to gather a container and placed it on the bottom. Jack carefully placed a piece of plastic over the gap, with stones on the edges to keep it from moving. One stone in the middle made the plastic funnel downwards.
Satisfied this would gain him extra fresh drinking water by the morning, he took out a MRE and heated it. He decided to go to sleep soon after, so he would be able to get an early start in the morning.