Chapter 4

He left just as dawn broke. He placed the pillow with the blanket neatly folded in the corner. At least he and Seth could pretend this way that he wasn't spending his nights in the stall with Bess as his only companion. Another two days had gone by in relative bliss. Well, what would pass as peace in his world that was driven by trying his best not to go mad with the incessant whispers that permeated his world. His shivered as a ghostly hand caressed his face, telling him to listen. That once he gave everything off himself he'll feel better. That he was the chosen one.

But a stubborn part of him held on despite the entreaty happening inside his head. And then there was the boy. A clear voice that seemed to keep him functioning, enough that he could fool himself that he wasn't losing his mind. Sometimes, just out of the corner of his eye he can now see the boy. Brown eyes would look up at him in concern, brown hair long and drifting into eyes that had seen too much. He itched to reach out and just make everything better. But what would be the use? He would hug a ghost and if the voice was right…well, for crying out loud, he'll be hugging himself wouldn't he. And that would be the moment when he finally would just step over the line and give in and let the voices take him. Why fight it then when he clearly was nuts.

He hadn't seen Marcus since the incident at the park. He didn't like it but what could he do? He wasn't about to go and look for the man, search out trouble for himself. But he was careful when he wasn't at Seth's place. It was automatic. He scanned the crowds, took note of those that had an interest in him. Could see the weak points in the open spaces he liked but it gave him a chance to lose himself in the mess of people around him. Exit points and ways to lose himself were mechanically calculated, a route map in his head that he knew would get him to safety.

So, he was prepared when the familiar step of many feet echoed off the walls and the Jackal guards started to move into the market square when he was buying himself another fried bread. He was already moving to one of his exit points as a staff weapon whined and someone screamed. He was outside the cordon that had been setup less than five minutes later, lying on the roof of a house and looking down. Careful not to show any outline to those who might look up. An old canvas was pulled and scrunched over his body, hiding him from view if any of the death gliders were to make a show but he didn't think it would be the case. But still, he had learned to be careful. He did what he could to minimise risk instinctually now.

The people in the square were all bunched into one place and forced to sit. Anubis' First Prime strode into the square, the golden tattoo on his forehead blinding in the mid-afternoon sun and the memories the man conjured up inside his head wasn't pleasant. Fear made his mouth dry and clenched his insides into a wobbly mess but he was proud of himself in that he at least didn't completely lose it. Yet, he still hunkered further down under the canvas, hiding his face into his hands. Maybe he could pretend that He'rak wasn't here. Pretend he didn't know what this was about.

That their mistake has finally been realised and they had come looking for their wayward prisoner. The one who they weren't supposed to let go. And only meant one thing.

Anubis was back.

He shuddered at the thought. Stayed rigid and didn't make a sound, even while the voices down in the square were loud and his face was plastered on a long-range communication device. The grey ball floating in the sky, showing his face from various angles. Even here, on what was essentially his wanted poster he had no name.

He could have laughed at the irony of it all. Instead, he swallowed a sob and watched as the globe descended and the footsteps receded. People got up from where they had been seated, going on about their business. He takes it in, realises that this is just another common occurrence in the lives of these people.

He wondered if any of them would report him the moment they laid eyes on him.

Well…just…Crap

He slowly got up from under the canvas, moved off the roof carefully to make sure that he was alone when he dropped down in the alley.

"You need to leave."

He could feel the small body next to him as his footsteps echoed alone down the passage.

"I know."

"Maybe Seth can help."

He almost looked down at the feeling of the body next to him; a frown settled on his face.

"Why?"

A hand slipped into his. Small fingers closed around his own, tugging at his hand. He watched as his arm was pulled into a direction he had not intended to go. The fingers tightened when he tried to pull back.

"I told you. Seth is a friend."

"So you say. Do I know him?"

The tugging was incessant and he finally allowed himself to be pulled by …himself. He squashed down the whispers inside his head that told him how screwed he was right at the moment. The voice was silent. Didn't answer his question. He managed to avoid two smaller Jaffa patrols and safely made it back to Seth's place. He hid in the stall, silent under the small straw cave he had carved out in the corner where it would be hard to see. Less than ten minutes later a patrol made their rounds. Their heavy boots sounded dull inside the stall, the straw absorbing some of the terror-inducing thread of their shoes. One Jaffa complained loudly when he stepped on one of Bess' little surprises that he hadn't cleaned out yet and they left soon after.

"Breathe…"

The boy nudged him and he finally remembered to take in oxygen. He stayed in his hidey-hole even though it was claustrophobic and dark. The straw rustled now and again with the feet of insects scurrying around. His head nodded and he jerked awake.

He didn't want to sleep just yet. Not now.

But the stress and the dark and the whispers all vied for attention and he finally relented. His head drooped down, his body relaxed and then he was away and then the dreams came.

This time it wasn't the house by the lake with the angel.

This time he dreamed of hell.

They were lined up against the wall, their eyes darting from him to the Jaffa standing behind him. He met each gaze, silently apologising to each of them for putting their lives in danger and desperately searching for a way to protect them.

But he couldn't.

He knew what was coming. Even as these thoughts rebelliously entered his mind the Jaffa behind him laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. Despite the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back, he still tried to move away from his kneeling position in front of the two men and woman.

He didn't want to relive this again. Didn't want to see his friends die again.

Not again.

The whine and light thudded as the staff weapon in one of the guards' hands opened and he jerked despite the fact that he knew with absolute certainty what was about to happen. He gave the team before him one last deploring look and then despite the instruction from the guard behind him – he closed his eyes.

The bottom end of the staff weapon connected solidly at the spot just above his liver. His eyes opened wide as white hot agony sliced through his body.

"Kell shak kree."

The command was brutal and loud in the room, echoing off the walls as he tried not to sob as the agony continued to ride his body through waves of pain. He lowered his head, bit his lip and thought of all the things he'd do to the Jaffa standing behind him when he got free.

Fingers clawed into hair and jerked his head up. Three pairs of eyes met his own. They were resigned to their fate. He could see it in the square of the shoulders. In the fear and courage and terror that was evident all at once in their souls. He wondered if this time it'd be different.

The fingers in his hair tightened, holding his head firmly in place when the rhythmic footsteps came from the corridor. His hands cramped into tight fists. His stomach clenched and his breathing increased.

His presence filled the room.

It was malevolent. Suffocating. Making it almost impossible to breathe. He thought about all the previous times this had happened. About all the smart ass remarks he had made.

About the pleading.

Anubis stepped into view, his cape swirling around him like a dark shadow. Alive. Writhing.

"And here we are again, O'Neill."

He couldn't help himself. "How long has it been? I swear we had this little gathering just a short while ago."

Anubis gave a sinister chuckle that raised all the hairs on the back of his neck. The half-ascended man turned sideways, throwing a glance at his team standing against the wall.

"Do you like seeing them die?"

He didn't know how to reply to that. His muscles contracted and the Jaffa behind him tightened his grip on Jack's shoulder warningly. He concentrated on letting the tension go, willing his muscles to relax.

"You can try standing there while your Jaffa practises their shooting skills."

Anubis tilted his head. As usual, his mouth had run away from him but his fear for his friends was suffocating and paralysing.

And he really, really didn't want to see the next bit of the current situation play itself out again. Anubis read his mind. He gave a little wave of his hand. Even though he knew it was coming, he still jerked at the sound of the staff weapon.

Jack watched as Carter, Daniel and Teal'c died.

Anubis indicated with his hand to an acolyte. A device was put in his hand and he went down on his haunches in front of Jack. A black clad hand reached out and gripped Jack's jaw, turning his head so that he had no choice but to stare into the swirling mask in front of him.

"How many times, O'Neill? Because I can do this for a very, very long time before your friends' bodies will become too damaged to be revived."

His eyes shifted from Anubis' towards where his teams' bodies lay. He swallowed as the memories of all the previous executions started to overlap. Bile churned in his throat, threatening to overspill as the images continued to assault his mind.

"You can save them from dying again, O'Neill. I will send their bodies back to your SG command to be buried. They will never know about the bargain you made."

He swallows the bile.

"Alive."

He swallows again and turns his full attention on Anubis, he says, "You send them back alive."

Anubis seemed to contemplate his request; his fingers still bruise-gripping tight on Jack's jaw. Jack waited, his gaze never leaving the half-ascended man in front of him.

"Very well. They will be returned. Alive."

Then Anubis shifted his hand and gave Jack a small pat on his face. He stood up and away. He pressed something on the device. It starts to unfold, a bright light escaping as it seems to expand and shrink all at once.

Jack watched with fascination and dread as the Ancient device changed shape before his eyes. It almost seemed…alive. Carter would have a field-day trying to understand the scientific workings behind it. Daniel would love to read the symbols. Teal'c, well he would tell them all how he had not encountered technology like this before.

He felt his restraints fall away. He brought his hands around and immediately started rubbing his wrists.

Anubis was standing to one side, watching him intently. Jack swallowed his fear, glanced one last time at his teams' bodies and then rose and stepped towards the device.

"Are you sad?"

A hand was in his hair. Combing wayward strings away from his forehead. It was soothing. He leaned into it, taking what comfort he could from it.

"Sometimes," he whispers.

"Why?"

"I think I lost something …important." He finally manages to whisper. A fleeting image of faces faded from his memory. The angel among them.

"If it's important…then you need to remember."

He opens his eyes in the dark. His straw cave had a decidedly sweaty smell to it. He wrinkles his nose and shifts in his nest. But yet despite the feeling of being walled in, he still doesn't exit. The little body settled against his, head on his shoulder.

"Everyone's gone to bed. The Jaffa won't be back until maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. You don't have to stay here."

He sighs. "I know. But it's safe."

The boy's face scrunches up. "Do you really believe that?"

He thought about lying. But what use was it when the voice knew him inside out. "No."

"Outside you have a blanket. And a pillow. That was nice."

That was true. It took courage though to wiggle his way out. He paused often, listening but it was quiet and dark and the only sound really was the distant thread of the familiar Jaffa patrols. His pillow and blanket were somehow in the corner again and on top of the pile sat a covered plate. He removed the top plate and feasted on fruit and bread. His stomach full, he carefully placed the plates on a low bench set into the stall wall and then wiggled himself into the blanket and put his head on the pillow.

He was alone again, only left with his thoughts and Bess.

He didn't mind it at all.

Until the whispers came back with a vengeance, filling his head with images and words and it…was…too…much.

He took a ragged breath. He couldn't cry anymore…it didn't make a difference in any case.

He closed his eyes and his reality shifted from the stall and Bess and then he wasn't in the present anymore and his world consisted of nothing more than fleeting dreamscapes of terror and hurt. And too much grief.

He was standing in some sort of basin, the mountains around him were hazy and dark blue in the distance. Dust swirled in eddies around him, the wind was soft, caressing and warm. Nothing but empty desert as far as he can see. No scrub brush or tufts of grass poking out of the hard packed sand. There were no chitter of animals.

He was utterly alone. For a moment he felt terror at the thought that he was going to die here. Where no one is going to know. But that feeling changed when the wind shifted and then he heard the whispers. It was everywhere, riding a crescendo towards all consuming sound, that permeated his being until he couldn't hear himself.

"Hear us…can you hear us…chosen one."

He spun his body into a full circle, searching the empty landscape for the source of the noise. Something else besides dust swirled around him. Ghostly hands flirted over his hands and face. Tucked at his hair.

"Is he the one?...Yes…yes…His blood is diluted…No…he will be the one…chosen one..."

The voices drifted over each other and it was hard to follow. He cupped hands over his ears, hunched down in a desperate attempt for some semblance of sanity. Somehow he knew that this wasn't real but yet in another sense it was. His reality shifted from this basin to the outside world and back, flashing in a staccato that had him retch.

He wasn't surprised when nothing came up. It never does.

The first brief touch into his thoughts was as violating as the first time they've entered his mind. Then all at once they were there, inside him. Showing him their memories. Their fears. Their hatred. Taking what they wanted from his own memories.

Showing him Charlie's death. Twisting it. Changing it.

Then the boy turned up. Standing next to him on that dusty desert floor. Hand tucked into his, brown eyes looking up at him.

"We need to go."

He nodded and started walking. The distant mountains seemed too far but somehow he knew that it was important.

The whispers didn't like the boy.

He gasped as his reality reasserted itself and he was back in the stall. Back in the city. Back lying on straw under a blanket, his head pillowed. And he was alone again.

Grief flowed over him then. A sadness he couldn't quantify. He pulled the blanket up and over his shoulder. Nestled in and then silent tears started to flow. He wiped at them, drawing one dragged breath after another until the tears stopped. It was always like this, when the reality shift happened. He had learned in prison to cry silently. To not draw any attention to his plight.

Anubis wanted to know how many times he went to that place. Somehow he knew enough to deny the half-ascended being that knowledge. So, he cried in silence and lied his ass off when he was queried by the guards.

Sometimes the boy was there where he returned from that basin. It helped.

Bess was moving quietly, snorting in the darkness. Thunder rumbled in the distance and he thought he could smell rain in the air. He shivered briefly in the cooling night air and then rose and touched Bess' nose, revelling in the warmth of her breath against his hand as she nudged him. He laid his head against her neck, finding comfort in the presence of the animal.

She snorted again, stepping away when the sounds of a passing patrol sounded harsh in the stillness of the stable. He shrank back against her, eyes straining against the dark and waiting until the footsteps faded away before he relaxed again.

Thunder rolled again; this time closer. A ghostly hand curled around his bicep. Whispers sounded in his ears.

Not again. Please, not so soon after…

Lightning flashed and almost immediately the thunder boomed overhead. Bess reared onto her back legs, her nostrils wide, and her eyes rolling in fright. He had no time to react as the hooves came down, one of them slicing towards his head.

It felt like being struck by a two by four. He had enough presence of mind to roll towards the wall as nausea and dizziness competed with the agony of his head. He thought he could smell the acrid smell of wood burning. Heard Bess as she kicked against the boards of her stall. Felt a rib break when she inadvertently stepped on him in her panic. He heard voices in the haziness that was his mind, noise and smells and fear all vying for attention.

There was the squeak of Bess' stall door opening and the thundering hooves as she escaped.

The world seesawed in and out, black and white competing for space in eyes that struggled to see. Someone was kneeling beside him, hand on his shoulder. He squinted in a desperate attempt to see. The world righted itself for a brief moment and then it flipped on its side again.

He was familiar with what came next. It never lasts but for now it was enough. Almost sighed in thankfulness when all his aches and pains and anguish faded away and then he welcomed the darkness that oblivion brought and sank into her arms with a smile on his face.