Jack listened carefully as Carter went over the minutia of the rescue mission even though he pretty much already knew how it went down and the part he was really curious about – what happened on base while he was away – was the part the General was already familiar with, or was as familiar with as Carter was going to let him be. Soon, they backed up to the two week trip to pick from Earth to Astarte's planet, but Jack didn't find any of that interesting either. Instead, he fiddled with a pen and wondered how long it would take the General to get around to asking him to fill in the details of what had happened to him while he was Astarte's prisoner.
The question, though, never came. Soon enough, the General was dismissing SG-1, Carter and her dad were hugging goodbye and Jack found himself sitting, unsurely, back in his seat waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Son," the General said quietly while the rest of the team was saying goodbye to Jacob, "I thought you might like some privacy to do the rest of your debriefing."
"Oh," well, that made sense. "Yes, sir."
"Doctor Fraiser is going to want to see you now. But we can talk after that."
"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd prefer to write my report."
The General looked a little taken aback by Jack's request but he didn't let it faze him. "Fine."
"I'll have it on your desk by morning."
"There's no rush."
"Thank you, sir." But Jack would have the report finished, nonetheless. He knew what had happened to him was going to open a big can of worms and, while he wasn't anxious to deal with the fallout, he wasn't interested in delaying the inevitable any longer than necessary, either.
"You can head on to the infirmary now, Jack."
Jack nodded and pushed himself up out of the chair. He stopped to shake hands with Jacob. "Thanks," he said, though it didn't seem like enough.
"You're welcome. I'd say 'anytime' but..."
Jack mustered up a chuckle even as his stomach turned. "Yeah."
He left Carter with her dad, the guys trailed him to the infirmary.
"Welcome back, Colonel O'Neill," Doctor Fraiser said gently, as she directed him to take a seat on the edge of one of the beds. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, mostly."
"You look like you've lost some weight."
"Yeah," he said uneasily. He could tell he'd lost some weight. He'd lost some appetite, too.
"How're you feeling?" She asked as she strapped on a blood pressure cuff.
"Pretty good, really."
"Anything in particular I should be looking for?"
"After two weeks?" He asked with a shrug of one shoulder. "Who knows?"
"Were you drugged?"
"To the hilt."
"Do you know what with?"
"Sokar's blood, some other stuff," he tried to say it matter of factly because he knew Daniel and Teal'c were listening in. And, despite everything, he didn't want to appear weak in front of them, in front of the doc.
"I'll take some blood, of course, but it's probably out of your system by now."
"Yeah," he agreed. "I feel normal." It wasn't such a lie.
After that she drew the curtain around the bed to afford him a little privacy. She asked him to remove his clothing and she produced a pair of scrubs for him – long the preferred uniform for the infirmary – and left him to get changed. When she returned it was to look him over for bumps, bruises and other evidence of mistreatment. She frowned when she saw the way his ribs were visible and the way his collar bones protruded, but she didn't say anything, she just scribbled notes down into his chart. Finally, after she was satisfied, she delivered the blow, "I'm going to keep you. At least overnight."
"Aw, c'mon, doc-"
She held up a forestalling hand. "You're dehydrated, Colonel. You need IV fluids. And I'm going to take the opportunity to hang some nutritional supplements as well after hearing about your diet on the planet. I haven't seen your blood work yet, but I can already venture a guess as to what I'll see.
He sighed, resigned. "Yeah, okay."
By the time he was waiting to be shown to a private room, Carter had appeared for her post-mission check-up and Daniel and Teal'c were standing around waiting, presumably to be invited to his bedside. Not that they'd ever needed an invitation before, but after the two week journey and his admittedly surly attitude, it would likely take an invitation to get them to come over. The question was, did he want the company?
He dallied long enough that, eventually, they all filed out of the infirmary, all with looks in his direction, Carter's almost wistful, and he was alone. Blissfully alone for the first time since he'd been in his cell on Astarte's planet, unless he counted the medical personnel but they were very good at blending into the background until they were needed or necessary.
He wasn't pleased about being kept in the infirmary overnight - he'd have much preferred to go home. But in any event, he had a report to write. He summoned an orderly and made a request for a laptop – a request he's pretty sure he'd never made before – and then, once it arrived, settled in to try to write a detached version of what had happened to him on the planet.
Wanting to be detached or not, though, as he wrote, he could feel all the emotions bubble back up inside him as he described what he went through in as much detail as he could – he didn't want to have to revisit this once he'd turned in his report. He gave as much information as he could remember about the exact memories and hallucinations he'd had including the ones he didn't really understand, like the one where he couldn't protect Carter from Hanson. And even as he wrote he knew that MacKenzie was going to have a field day with the things he was putting down on the page.
It took him almost three hours, but finally, he was done. He stared at the computer screen, the words harmless enough but vile still. He set the laptop away from him with more force than was probably necessary and closed the lid with a slap that probably didn't do the machine any favors.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
After a month away and a night in her own bed, it felt good to be back in her lab, not that she was having any luck concentrating on anything, not knowing that at any moment Daniel and Teal'c would be coming by to collect her to go to the infirmary to check on the colonel. They'd decided to go together – safety in numbers and all that.
He'd been downright churlish to Daniel, quiet to Teal'c... strange to Sam. Their conversations aboard the tel'tak had stuck with her and left her feeling off balance and unsure where she stood with him. It didn't help that she was already feeling off kilter because of Edora and the undercover mission. If they were different people she'd think they should talk about it all, but Jack O'Neill wasn't a talker and neither, really, was she. She was bad at talking – she never knew the right thing to say. He didn't particularly like to talk, though he always seemed to know the right thing to say, even if it was the thing to say to bring the whole thing down around them all. The man certainly had a way with words.
"You ready?" Daniel's voice preceded his head into her lab by a matter of microseconds.
She wasn't, not really, but the trepidation in her friend's voice said he needed her with him as much as she needed to see the colonel for herself so she pushed herself back from the lab table and stood up off her stool. "Have you seen him yet today?" She asked unnecessarily.
Daniel shook his head. "I wanted to give him some time."
"For what?"
"Alone?"
Sam harumphed. "I wonder if that's really the best thing for him."
"It's not like he's been thrilled to be cooped up with us for the last couple of weeks."
She shrugged. Thrilled, he hadn't been, that was for sure. She thought back to their last conversation on the ship, the night she'd felt like she bared her soul to him when she'd been too tired to hide from him and had admitted how exhausted she was. He'd clearly been tired, too, but she'd reached a point that night where, as badly as she felt for him, and as much as she knew he'd been through hell, she couldn't make it all about him.
She wondered if, when she saw him in the infirmary, if she'd still be at that point. Had she reached a breaking point of her own?
When they reached the colonel's private infirmary room there was a momentary, comedic shuffle over who would walk in first. Ultimately it was Teal'c who shot them both an unamused glance then stepped first through the door. Sam's eyes immediately locked on the colonel who looked better rested than he had in a good long while and she hoped he'd finally been able to get some rest but also figured that he hadn't been given much choice as Janet likely would have had him sedated for his health.
"O'Neill," Teal'c greeted the man in the infirmary bed who scowled at, Sam guessed, their intrusion into his otherwise quiet space.
The colonel made a show of looking around each of them. "You didn't happen to smuggle in coffee, did you?"
"Jack, you know we can't-"
He sighed, "Yes, Daniel, I know."
Sam wondered at the lightness in the colonel's voice and wondered how much of it was for show. His eyes, though they didn't look as tired, still looked just as guarded as they had on the ship. Eyes that had always been open and telling were shuttered and it left her feeling off kilter.
She was looking at the lines around his mouth when she felt his eyes on her. She met his gaze and the urge to instantly flit her eyes away was strong, but she held there, waited to see what he wanted, what he'd reveal, but his eyes finally slipped away from hers leaving behind a feeling of bereftness that she was becoming all too familiar with.
"Are you feeling better?" Daniel asked.
"Better than what?"
"Better than you have been?" Daniel answered a little defensively.
"I got some sleep," the colonel answered noncommittally.
"That's good, sir."
He grunted and shrugged one shoulder but he caught her eye once more and gave her an intense sort of look that made her feel like he was saying something to her. Just to her.
Daniel shifted nervously from one foot to the other; it was clear he wasn't sure what to say and the colonel didn't appear to be anxious to help him out. Teal'c, never known for his conversational skills, stood quietly by the bedside, his hands clasped behind his back, looking content to just be in the company of his teammates. Sam, on the other hand, was wracked with nerves.
The look the colonel had shot her had been laden with something, she just wasn't sure what. She'd felt it down deep inside herself. It felt familiar, whatever it was. It felt, a little, like that night on the tel'tak when they were alone and he'd reached out and grabbed her. It had felt like the heavy weight of his hand on her arm, burning.
She cleared her throat which drew all eyes to her and she suddenly wished she hadn't. She fumbled for something to say. "How long will you have to stay, sir?"
He considered her carefully. She could see a caustic look flit across his face but he discarded it quickly and she was glad. His answer was measured. "Haven't said."
"Oh."
As far as conversations went, it wasn't going well. But it sure felt like he was speaking volumes in some silent communication with her. When it became clear that he wasn't going to engage in idle chit-chat, Daniel gave him a half smile and made an excuse about some artifacts and made a quick escape, Teal'c trailing along behind him. Sam wondered, briefly, why she hadn't used the opportunity to escape as well.
Until he said her name. "Carter."
"Yes, sir?"
"Did you go home last night?"
She knew what he was asking. Did she go home and get some rest? She did go home. She even went to bed. But sleep had been elusive and she'd racked up little more than a couple of broken hours. But she answered the question as asked exactly. "Yes, sir."
His eyes searched hers, "Are you still tired?"
She thought they both knew he wasn't asking about her need for sleep. She tilted her head as she considered how to answer. Whether or not to answer at all. Figured, in the end, what harm was there in a little more honesty at this point? "Yes, sir."
He nodded once. Then, he leaned back against the pillows and heaved a sigh that made her chest ache. "Me too."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Jack swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He'd be damned if he was going to have a conversation with the base shrink while on his back in an infirmary bed. It was bad enough he was doing it in the infirmary at all. He'd had a couple of chairs brought in and arranged himself in one of them, the IV lines draped carefully down the side of the chair.
He only had to wait a few minutes before a knock preceded Doctor MacKenzie into the room. Jack took a deep breath and tried not to let his hatred for the man bubble up inside him like a living thing. He tried to remember that he didn't really hate MacKenzie, he hated what the man represented, he hated what the man did, he hated the reasons he had to see him. He didn't know MacKenzie. Not really. He'd had only a couple run ins with him over the last few years, but the last one with Daniel and the schizophrenia had left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Colonel O'Neill," the doctor said as he entered.
"Doctor MacKenzie," Jack said with a curt nod.
MacKenzie dropped into the second chair, crossed his legs, and set a clipboard down on his lap. "Welcome home."
"I've been home for three days."
"That you have."
"And sometime during that three days it was decided that I'm not fit for active duty until you say I am," Jack said acerbically.
MacKenzie nodded slowly. "Doctor Fraiser is afraid that you have some lasting psychological damage after what happened to you on P3R-289."
"No offense, but it's nothing I can't handle on my own, doc."
"This wasn't your first experience with the drug you were given," MacKenzie's eyes dropped to his clipboard, "the Blood of Sokar, was it?"
"No."
"What does the drug do, Colonel?"
"Memories," Jack said and then shuddered involuntarily. "It makes you relive your memories."
"The first time, what memories did you relive?"
"You mean the first time when I didn't have to see a shrink before going back to active duty?"
"Yes," the doctor said evenly, even though Jack was trying to get a rise out of him.
"The death of my son."
"And this time?"
"That. And more."
"It went on for much longer this time, didn't it?"
"Yes," Jack said, begrudgingly.
"You were stranded for a month. For how long were you subjected to the drug?"
"The whole time, I think."
"You think?"
"It was pretty hard to keep track of time," Jack spit. It had felt like so much longer than a month.
"Did anything else happen to you?"
Jack hesitated. He really didn't want to talk about the sex, he didn't want to talk about the bathing, he didn't want to talk about any of the stuff that was going to make him have to talk about anything of a sexual nature with the psychiatrist. He'd been down that road once before after Iraq and while he would admit that it had been helpful enough at the time, it had been damned hard and he wouldn't have done it at all if he hadn't had a wife at home. And besides, what had happened to him this time was completely different. He could deal with it. He'd been drugged, he couldn't help what he'd done. It wasn't any different than what had happened with Kynthia, right?
"There were other drugs," Jack finally decided on.
"With other uses." MacKenzie deduced.
"Yeah."
"Were you tortured?"
"I was given a drug to make me relive my worst memories and to hallucinate new hells I never imagined. What would you call that?"
"Were you beaten?"
"No."
"Starved?"
"No."
"Deprived of sleep?"
"No."
"I'd like you tell me about the memories. The hallucinations."
Jack scoffed.
"It's not negotiable, Colonel. It's the price of active duty."
He'd known it was coming. He'd known it since the moment Fraiser had told him that MacKenzie was coming up. He was going to have to spill his guts if he wanted the gate back. The question was, how badly did he want the gate? After the mission, after what he'd been through, maybe not. He could honestly say he didn't really want much of anything. Except his couch and a stiff drink. He felt like he'd done a pretty damn good job of holding things together since he'd gotten back to base, but it was time to go home and give some deep thought to the man who'd had those thoughts, to the man who had left that planet.
After everything he'd been through in the past month, after everything he'd seen, he wasn't fit to lead a team anymore. He wasn't strong, he wasn't capable, he wasn't clear-headed – he was a mess. He was a shadow of the man he'd managed to become after his son's death. A shadow of the man he'd managed to become after living through all those things the first time. But living through them all in the span of a month, over and over again, living with the conjurings of his mind, it was all too much. Much more than he could bear.
"Well, doc," Jack said, "we can make this real easy."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"I'm not going to need the therapy. I'm just going to need retirement papers."