"No. No, no, no. NO! Please, not again."
"Sir. Sir – you're okay, Colonel. You're safe. You're at the SGC."
He slowly opened his eyes, although it took a moment for him to realize where he was. He could see the blurry face of Nurse – what was her name – looking down at him, concern written on her face.
"Uh – what happened? What's wrong," he asked, feeling totally bewildered.
"You were having a nightmare, Sir," Nurse Lykin said gently. She reached out and helped to rearrange his badly messed blankets. "Can I get you something? Would you like something to help you sleep?"
Jack shook his head. The problem wasn't that he couldn't sleep, it was that every time he did, he felt like he was back on Ba'al's torture web.
"No, that's okay. Um – maybe a drink?"
"Of course. Would you like me to get you some juice, or tea?" she asked. "I don't think you should have coffee."
"Water's fine, Nurse, thank you." He reached out for the glass on his hospital table, but then quickly dropped his hand. It was shaking badly, and he felt both embarrassed and ashamed.
"Here, let me," she said calmly. "It's always hard to wake up from a nightmare. Here you go, Sir," she held out the glass of water with a straw. He was able to grasp the cup, but the nurse continued to hold onto it as well, which was good since he would probably have ended up with most of the water in his lap.
"Thanks," he said, quietly, when he was done. "What time is it?"
"Hmm," the nurse looked at her watch. "It's 3:20 am, Colonel."
"Oh." Well, at least he'd gotten a couple of hours of sleep since the last time he woke up. It appeared as if two hours was about the limit of his ability to sleep before being woken up by a nightmare.
"You're sure you don't want anything to help you sleep, Colonel? I'm worried you're not getting enough rest."
Jack sighed and rested his arm over his eyes. He hated taking drugs, but maybe for once it would be worth it. He desperately needed to sleep. He felt as if he was growing weaker and less able to cope as each hour went by.
"I guess," he finally told her. Hopefully the pill would knock him out and he'd get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Janet had warned him about the possibility of withdrawal. He knew that was a likelihood, after he'd seen what Daniel had been through. He wondered if it made any difference that he had died before going into the damn sarcophagus, unlike Daniel, who had gone in while healthy.
Well, he'd just have to wait and see, he realized. Janet told him that it would take 24 to 48 hours before he began to detox from the thing – if he was, in fact, going to deal with withdrawal.
He heartily hoped not. Just dealing with the memories was bad enough.
He thought for a moment of Daniel and felt a confusing combination of gratitude and affection with an underlining feeling of anger and frustration towards his friend.
He was angry that Daniel had so readily chosen ascension and had left him, Jack, with the loss of one of his closest friends. And then there was the remaining anger for leaving him to suffer repeated torture and death at the hands of B – his least favorite Goa'uld.
He knew that it was Daniel, in the end, who had given the idea to his teammates of how they could rescue him. He was grateful for that and also that Daniel had come to say goodbye to him in the Infirmary.
In the end, he realized his emotions were all over the place. He was a mess, and he didn't know what to do to pull himself back.
"Here you go, Sir," Nurse Lykin walked into the room carrying a couple of pills in a little paper cup. She handed them to him and then held up his water glass so that he could swallow them. Okay little pills, he said to himself, do your thing and send me to la la land.
"Good. Now you just lie back and close your eyes, Sir. Those will take a few minutes, but then you should have a good night's sleep."
He quietly thanked the nurse and closed his eyes, praying for oblivion.