"I did what they told me," Jack told her, looking down in shame. "I didn't stand up to them but let them torture me ande ra – assault me. It was my fault."

Kisamor looked at Jack with compassion, and no little anger on his behalf. His head was bent which fortunately allowed the older woman time to reign in her feelings. Jack needed her to be calm and steady, not ready to rip out the throats of three, already dead men.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jack," she told him softly. That caused his head to rise in surprise.

"What?"

She smiled at him and laid her hand over his clenched ones. "You were tortured and hurt, and your life was in constant danger. What part of that is your fault?"

"I should have fought back," he said angrily.

"How? What should you have done?"

"I don't know," he cried, running his hand through his hair. "But I should have done something!"

"You have told me that you were a soldier, a man of "action" I believe you said. You have fought and won many battles. You have saved yourself and others many times. So, if there was a way out, what was it? What did you not do that you should have, or could have done?"

He looked at her in both anger and despair. She was forcing him to think, to get beyond his guilt and he didn't like it. His guilt and shame had become a shell, an armor behind which he protected himself. He closed his eyes an took a deep breath, knowing that Kisamor was going to push him on this.

He could have just gotten up and walked away, but somehow knew that was the coward's way out. She had helped him, and he'd better get off his ass and stop wallowing.

"So, what should you have done?" she asked again.

He swallowed and thought to his time held captive. He tried to think back without the fear and anguish and look at the situation objectively. He had tried everything to get free, to release his bonds, to fight back, but had been unable to do anything. His captors had been smart and obviously accustomed to holding people captive.

And then he thought about whether he should have resisted them. He felt a terrible sense of shame that he hadn't, at least not for the last days and hours with them. At first, he'd tried – he had forgotten that. He had tried his usual sarcasm, his irreverence and at times his courage in simply standing up to them.

All that those things had gotten him was more, and worse pain.

The more cooperative he'd been – while it hadn't stopped the torment – somehow took the 'fun' out of it for his tormentors. He was pretty sure that it had shortened some of the sessions. He thought back briefly – it was too painful to remember in full – to when they'd tortured the woman. Her cries, her begging, her attempts to flee had excited them and they had done more and more to draw out their torture of her.

He had done the right thing by cooperating, at least until he had been able to escape.

"So – ?," Kisamor started to speak, but he lifted his head and interrupted her.

"Nothing," he said softly. "There was nothing I could have done. I did what I had to, to survive and make it through – everything." He gave her a crooked grin. "I wasn't – I wasn't a coward," he said, feeling a small bit of relief.

She looked at him in surprise. "You thought you were a coward?", she exclaimed. "Jack O'Neill, sometimes you are a fool. You are one of the bravest men I have ever met. What you went through – most people would not have survived and would not be here, sitting in my house. Instead, you not only survived, but you have also gone on to help so many others. You are not only a man of courage, but you are a man of integrity and valor. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of – you must believe that!"

He felt his face and neck burn with embarrassment at her words, never feeling comfortable with praise. At the same time, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Kisamor still had her hand on his, and it was as if something had passed from her to him – something good, and kind and healing.

"They made me beg them to rape me," he suddenly blurted out. It was the first time he'd admitted that, to anyone, including himself and he still felt a burning sense of shame for what he'd had to say to the men.

He saw Kisamor's jaw clench, and a flash of anger come from her eyes – but he knew it was not directed at him, but rather at his captors.

"It was just more of their torture, Jack," she said calmly, even though her expression was still fierce. "You did not believe it, nor want it, but you did want to survive – so what you said and did was only that – the will to survive. Be proud of yourself for that. I do not think many did survive those three."

He hadn't thought of it that way. All he had felt was the shame of going along with three cruel and evil men. But what he had done, was to be smart and – strategic. He had wanted to survive so had done what he had to do. It was something they had all been taught in training in the Air Force, and something he'd done in the past – but it had never been anything quite so hard or so soul-damaging. He had been about to say "soul-destroying" but realized, perhaps for the first time, that his soul wasn't destroyed, but had just been severely wounded.

He gave Kisamor a crooked grin. "You're a smart lady," he told her.

"I know," she said. "That is why you must listen to me. Now, I want you to do something for me."

He nodded. At this moment he knew he would do practically anything for the woman in front of him. Magnus had been right. She was something very special.

"This is going to be very difficult, but I want you to close your eyes, and make yourself remember the worst things you had to suffer at their hands. Run through everything – in detail. It will be hard, Jack O'Neill, but I will be here with you the whole time."

"I don't – I can't," he said, starting to sweat. He also knew his hands were shaking.

"You can and you must. It is the way towards healing. Trust me. I am here."

He finally nodded and closed his eyes. He could feel his stomach churn, and worried that he might actually be sick, which would be completely humiliating.

"Start Jack," Kisamor's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He set his mind back to the moment he'd been captured by Leron, Alid and Donar. Even saying their names was difficult.

Suddenly he felt Kisamor place her hands gently on each side of his head. The touch was warm and soothing.

"Remember, Jack," she said.

And he did. He forced himself to remember and to speak every detail. He remembered what the men did and said, how they looked, he told his actions and reactions. He described their camp, the rouncies, the weather – every single thing he could remember.

As his mind concentrated on the details, it was as if the pain and shame started to fade. They were still there, but muted, in the background.

Anytime he began to describe a particularly horrible memory his heart rate would increase. Then, he would feel Kisamor's hands hold him more tightly and the pain and fear would dissipate.

He had no idea how long he sat there, remembering and describing his time in captivity but eventually he grew tired. At that moment, Kisamor's hands fell, and he opened his eyes. He looked at the older woman, to see her looking as exhausted as he felt.

"That was good, Jack," she said with a small smile. "I know how difficult that must have been, but it will help."

He nodded, not quite believing her, but willing to trust. "I'm sorry," he said, "you look tired. That must have been difficult to listen to." he said.

"Do not worry about me. I am here to help you. You are the one who bears the pain. I take joy in being able to help, even though there were moments I thought about digging those men up and killing them again," she said fiercly.

Jack grinned at her for that and couldn't help but lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," was all he said.

Kisamor looked embarrassed, but pleased, but then just gave him a gentle swat. "That was a long session, and I'm afraid you are tired. You must have some tea, and then go home and rest. We will continue tomorrow."

"I don't need anything to drink," he told her, still not really liking the tea. "I'm fine."

"You must," she said simply, then she smiled. "You will offend me if you do not."

He chuckled and nodded, knowing that he could not do that to this woman. He didn't know why drinking her tea was so important to her, but for all she did, he could stand a bit of the tepid dishwater.

"How far did you get," she suddenly asked.

"Just the first day," he told her. "I tried to remember – everything that had happened."

"You did well. We will go through all your time in captivity over the coming days."

"Do we really need to?" he asked, not sure he wanted to go through more of that.

"Yes, we must. Now, drink your tea and go home. You need to rest, and so do I."

As he walked back to Ethan's he thought about his session today with Kisamor. He didn't know what it was all about and wasn't sure it was helping – but he was willing to continue if she was. He couldn't imagine having to listen to all he had confided, but he was grateful to her. Maybe it would make a difference.

That night, Jack had the best sleep he'd had since being on Varid. He suffered no nightmares and, in fact, had a lovely dream.

He and Sam were fishing together at his cabin in Minnesota. It was – magical and even remembering it made him happy. In his dream, they'd gone from fishing to kissing – something even better. From there things had progressed to his bed, where things – at least in his dream – grew quite hot and heavy. Unfortunately, he woke up before reaching the climax – both literally and figuratively. But as he'd woken up, cursing slightly at the timing – he'd noticed his body and was surprised – hell no, shocked. For the first time since his capture, his body was showing some response.

Not completely – not fully, but there had been a physical reaction. He didn't know whether to be happy, or even more frustrated. It was probably a one-time thing. But it did give him a tiny sliver of hope.

He just wished he'd been able to finish the damn dream.

Of course, the next day he saw Sam and immediately grew horribly embarrassed as he thought back to his nighttime fantasy. He didn't know why – it's not as if he hadn't had hot dreams in the past. But for some reason, dreaming about Sam made him very uncomfortable.

She looked at him quizzically when he stammered and turned red when she wished him 'good morning'.

"Colonel?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

He hadn't heard her call him that for a while, so looked at her in surprise. But then, all he could see was Sam in that bikini she'd worn in his dream. It had been – teeny – and amazing and then he thought about having taken off that bikini, in his dream of course. It was -

"Colonel?" she laughed. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah – fine Carter, just fine. I guess I – I didn't sleep – uh."

"Insomnia again?" she asked worriedly.

"No – no, just – dreams."

"Darn, more nightmares?"

He licked his lips and shook his head. "No, I was dreaming of my cabin. It was – nice – but it ended suddenly. I wanted it to keep going, at least for a bit."

"I understand," she nodded, of course not understanding at all. "I have some of those dreams too. What were you doing at your cabin? Did it end just before you caught the fish?" she smiled.

He looked at her in shock, unable to speak. "Uh – yeah, sort of. I was -not doing – I mean, nothing – uh much. I think I have to – I'll be – talk to you later, Carter. I have – uh something to – uh do."

She watched as he walked off and shook her head. Sometimes Jack O'Neill confused her. She wondered what the hell that had been about.

As Jack walked away, he groaned, He couldn't have handled that any worse. Then he started to grin, and then to chuckle. He and Sam had always used 'fishing' as a bit of a euphemism. Now it really was a euphemism, at least for him. He chuckled again. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to have the same dream tonight, and it would end with him catching the fish. He could only hope.

His sessions with Kisamor continued. She now wanted him to go every day, which was interfering with his work. When he'd tried to convince her that he didn't have time, she'd made him promise to talk to Ethan about it.

Of course, Ethan had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to go to see Kisamor when she wanted him. "I can look after the stores just fine, Jack," the older man had told him. "We have Samantha and now other employees. You are invaluable but taking a few days or even weeks to get better is the best thing you can do. So, no trying to get out of it!"

He'd rolled his eyes but had eventually agreed. He tried to get up and do some work early in the morning, before leaving for the healer's place, but he was finding it hard. Ironically, the reason was that he was sleeping better than he had in months. It was as if his body had been surviving on adrenaline, and now was relaxing. He found himself yawning all the time – not because he was suffering insomnia, but because his body was finally able to rest.

"You're looking more relaxed," Magrit told him one day. "I was worried about you."

He looked at her in surprise. "Really?

She grinned. "Are you asking if I believe you look more relaxed or whether I was really worried about you?"

He chuckled. "Both, I guess."

"Well, yes to both. I am glad for your sake that things are getting better. And I know Samantha is as well!" She gave him a cheeky look but was gone before he could reply.

He shook his head, still confused about everything, and especially about Sam. He was feeling better, much better. He was more relaxed and the constant memories from his captivity were starting to quiet down. He would even go for hours without thinking about it. The shame and anger were also receding, although were not gone completely.

He admitted to himself that whatever Kisamor was doing – or having him do, really was working. He'd almost gotten to the last bit of his time with his captors – reliving every single second of his time with them. It was as if, by remembering and talking about it, his mind was erasing the pain and putting it in a box somewhere where it no longer tormented him.

He could still recall the details, but they no longer brought the same amount of agony that they had. It was as if he could think of things, remember them – but they had no power to hurt him. The relief was amazing.

Perhaps the best thing of all was that he was able to sleep – and to continue to have pleasant and relaxing dreams. Sometimes the dreams were of his friends here, or his friends on Earth. Mostly, however, they were about Sam at his cabin – those were the best.

But he still could never catch the damn fish.