Colonel Jack O'Neill

"Sir..."

Hammond overrides my diatribe as I snap my mouth shut.

"Colonel, all I can do is try," his voice expresses his exasperation at me, but I'm relieved that I haven't totally blown it with him.

"That's all I'm asking here, Sir."

My relief must have shown, his face softens as he changes the subject just a tad.

"Jack..."

'Great my first name, he's gonna ask isn't he. '

"...Are you sure that you're not... well, doing this out of guilt."

'Good question. Am I? Maybe, but then again the numbers look real good.'

"At first, Sir, but after working at it for a while I realized that it's doable, very doable. You know as well as I do that we've lost too many good people to injury. If you're not 100% battle fit you're out, that's the military's way, and it needs to change, at least in regards to the SGC. I want to retain those who can't meet those standards but aren't so disabled that they need help to get around. We need personnel. We're always shorthanded off world, and with this program, we can free up people by putting in our proven but battle damaged group. Please Sir, it's not just Lt. Van Sickle I'm talking about here, it's all the others that have been, or will be, let go because of physical injury. They're not brain dead and its what's in their heads we need, Sir."

"You have thought this through haven't you?"

General Hammond studies me thoughtfully as he leans back into his chair.

"And you're thinking about the Mirror Site too?"

'Damn, he's good, I hadn't even mentioned that yet. '

"Damn right, Sir!" I grinned at him unashamedly. "We now have the perfect site, because it's unknown to the Goa'uld, AND the Tok'ra, and isn't listed on the Abydos Cartouche or the Ancients' list. Daniel's prelim indicated no habitation in centuries, but the cut tunnels appear sound and look to be easily converted. Right now you and SG-1 are the only ones who know about this world, it's perfect." Knowing how important this step is I can hardly breath, excited that I may be able to insure the security of Earth and provide a better future for a certain someone.

"Okay, I'll take it on up the line. Leave me a copy of your stats, but only on the retention of injured personnel. Once I have them hooked on that, and it's working smoothly. I'll put forward the Mirror Site. Meanwhile I want you and SG-1 to recruit a few of your 'battle damaged' to help you do a detailed survey and map out a conversion plan of this 'perfect planet.' This can be your test case, it will certainly come in handy when I try to talk the Chiefs of Staff into it."

He smiles at me and I grin like a fool back at him, he's the best CO I've ever had and one of the best friends too. I stand and give him my sincerest parade ground salute; George goes a little red in the face at that.

"Colonel, get the hell out of my office, dismissed." He makes flustered shooing motions at me and I happily leave.

Dr Janet Fraiser

"Colonel, isn't he a little inexperienced for what you have in mind?"

To say that I wasn't surprised to see Colonel O'Neill would be a lie, true he had been here quite a bit when the topic of conversation was a certain patient here. However, if he is the patient he usually has to be pulled in kicking and screaming if he's conscious at all. The only time he willingly comes near me, Major Dr Janet Fraiser, CMO of the SGC, is to slurp up free dinners in my home and visit my daughter, Cassandra. Come to think of it, I wouldn't change that for the world.

This is the first that I've heard about changing the fitness standards to retain personnel for non-combat duty, to help keep the knowledge and experience here, where it's needed. Lt. Van Sickle was injured on his first off world mission, his experience is pretty nil, but the Colonel's guilt has been evident in regards to this young man.

'Is his judgment impaired? '

"Uh, yeah, you have me there. But Janet..."

'Oh, oh, it's the first name thing, he's as bad as the general, and he's going to make this personal. '

"For crying out loud! He's talented. Have you seen his test scores? He's top notch, we'll need command talent. Oy! I cringe when I think what he could have become if he hadn't been injured. This is chancy, I know that, but I think he's worth it. What do you say, can he physically take it?"

'Darn!'

He is so good at begging I really hate it when he does it, thankfully that's not often. With those sometimes luminous dark amber eyes just pleadingly boring into me, it's times like this that I understand why he drives Sam crazy. I can understand his agony over the lieutenant, but he doesn't fit the criteria as he described it to me

"Sir, what I say won't change the guide lines you set up for this project, he has no experience."

He cares too much sometimes and I really hate to dash his hopes, always trying to do the impossible, although he seems to be quite good at achieving it

"Yet."

Saying that he smirks boldly at me. Just what is he up to? No good, I bet! But then, that's when he's at his very best, isn't it.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I have to ask.

"Yet, Sir?"

'Darn, here I am encouraging him. '

"Hammond's given me the go ahead to recruit a few of the invalided-out for a project I'm doing off world. I get the kid into that -- instant experience."

He dramatically spreads his arms wide with a flourish, grinning, his eyes sparkling at his own cleverness. I can't help but smile at him; he hardly ever gets this expressive about anything.

This is very close to his heart, how can I refuse him?

Darn it, I can't and live with myself, besides Lt. Van Sickle should be able to handle it physically. So why not?

"Sir, I don't know, he's only just gotten out of the infirmary less than two weeks ago. His one eye has perfect sight, thanks to getting Jacob to him, and his hand has miraculously shown some improvement and the last two fingers of this right hand have developed some muscle control. Of course, the hand may never improve beyond that, but there's hope."

Watching his expression as I speak, I can see he is intently listening, his face unreadable as he focuses on my words. I have no idea what he is thinking. Well that's normal for him. I resume...

"Sir, I don't see any real problem with him going off world if you don't tax him physically, he'll tire easily. No long hikes even without 55-pound packs. He's still recovering."

Finished, I wait for his response. He still has that poker face in place. I wait; he must be reviewing the options. I detect a slight movement at the corner of his mouth.

'Ah, what did I say? Here it comes. '

A thoughtful look builds across his lean face and he begins to speak.

"He'll be doing a lot of walking, the terrain is a lot like the hallways of the SGC, minus the elevators. Kinda a gofer job. Can he do that?"

That's the colonel; he'll put no one at risk if he can help it.

He is very serious and earnest with this question; he wants my honest opinion, as if he's accept anything but.

"Not at the moment, but in a couple of weeks he probably will be able to handle that level of physical exertion easily. I know that's not the answer you'd like to hear, Sir, but that's the way it is."

He appears to be tossing options around in that head of his again.

"Sir, I have to ask this... but, are you doing this out of guilt?"

Holding my breath I wait for the explosion, it never comes, stunning me.

"Some. All I can see is what might have been, but I'm currently in a position to offer him a chance to make it after all. I think that he can be a real asset to the SGC, albeit in a rear area position. I'm not going to enable him Janet, but damn it. He deserves this chance. He's got too much potential to toss out cold like this. Would it help if I wait a couple of weeks? Will that do? I want to make this the best chance possible for the kid."

He is sincere about the guilt and way too smart to give in to his feelings to write this boy's ticket for him; and much too honorable to even think it.

"Yes, that would be fine Sir. In fact if you could get him back here I could get him started on a fitness regimen to bring him in line with the physical requirements you outlined."

His relief is actually visible for a split second, before he controls his reactions. It's good to see him striving for this young man and if it will help him ease his conscience too, all the better.

"Thanks, Janet. I'm sure Eric will thank you too, if he survives your 'fitness regimen.' "

He chuckles, tossing me a cocky salute, and swaggers out of my infirmary.

He's happy as a clam. Who'd have thought it?

Colonel Jack O'Neill

Carter's lab is my current destination. Getting the ball rolling on this is vitally important; the SGC is too vulnerable, irreplaceable. We need backup, a bolthole. A place that only we know about. The Alpha Site is known by some of our allies and probably our enemies too. This sounds so 'NID,' but we need secrecy and PBX 123 looks to fit the bill.

Hastily I nearly skid through the door; I stop and check out the room. Every time I come in here she's changed it, I could be back in only five minutes and it will have changed. Never knowing what I can touch is nerve racking, I could blow something sky high, not that that has even happened. But, you've heard about first times. At least she's here, who am I'm kidding? She's always here, usually. I shake my head and step further into the room.

"Carter?"

'Damn, that looks so... precision-like. '

She has this little bobble pushed right up under a light-magnifier and her eye is practically touching her side of it. If I startle her, I could put her eye out. Sooo not going there!

Hugging my arms close to my body, I try to still my legs, sweeping my eyes around the press of equipment to check for clearances. Don't want to knock over anything ya know.

"Sir?"

She didn't even move. Did she actually speak? She must have, unless I'm hearing things. I watch as she manipulates the little bobble thingy. I open my mouth.

"Uh, do you have a few minutes?"

Hesitant, I see she's still not looking up. Her world is that little bobble.

"Sure, Sir, just a second."

'Great, that means in about five hours, she'll come up for air and remember I'm here. '

Rolling my eyes impatiently, I drop my gaze to study the floor; I concentrate on keeping my feet from wandering.

"Sir?"

'Whoa! Here I am staring at the floor like it was my navel, that's not fair, that must have been... well, a second. '

"Yes, I'm... Uh..."

Needing a distraction, I scratch at my ear. Damn, she's flustered me now.

'I'm a colonel damn it! ' Stiffening my back, I start to speak up like one.

"You remember me talking about the Mirror Site?"

"Sir, you didn't," she practically squeaks out.

'Didn't? Didn't what? '

What the hell did I touch?

My eyes dart covertly around me checking for smoke. I know for certain that my heated face shows my confusion, but I ask anyway.

"Didn't what?" I dumbly ask her.

All of my attention has narrowed to her; all I can see or hear is Sam. I desperately shake myself loose of my fascination. Thank God, this only happens in low-threat situations like this. Well, except for that one time, but we were about to die. At other times, like this, when safe and secure my body takes over, pushing my brain into the dark, reacting to her.

'Whoa, rein in those unused hormones. '

"You got permission to start the Mirror Site. That 'didn't,' Sir."

'Oooh, that 'didn't.' '

"Uh, no, not yet. But I do have Hammond's blessings for a pilot project using invalided personnel to do a comprehensive survey of our chosen planet." I smile timidly, but proudly, at her as I await her reaction.

Not expecting the squeal, I damn near 'ducked and covered.' Seeing my reaction, she gives me a sheepish grin before speaking.

"Sorry, Sir. That's great, when do we start?"

Cupping my hand behind my ear, I mouth 'Eah.' That squeal almost deafened me. She nearly repeated what she said before she figured out that I was pulling her leg. She gave me a lopsided smile and kinda dropped her nose at me. Can't sue a guy for trying.

"Two weeks. Do you have anyone to suggest to be on the survey team?" Nearly vibrating with enthusiasm, I eagerly anticipate her reply.

"Not off hand, but I'll check around, I'm sure that I can find a few bodies for you."

She gives me a little apologetic look quickly replaced with an encouraging smile; she's sugaring her negative with a little future hope, just for me.

Sigh, that's my major. 'Stop that! '

Mindful of the gadgets, I start to slide towards the door; I still have people to see.

"Thanks Carter, I'll keep in touch, bye."

***

Stopping off at Daniel's office is more of a reminder visit; I had already recruited him to my cause, as I used him to sound out the whole idea before seeing Hammond.

Next, I talked to Teal'c, I knew he would be less likely to have suggestions for personnel, but he always comes up with some insightful views into every problem.

My office is where I end up with an armload of personnel files sent over by Fraiser, her contribution to the groundwork being laid for my little project. And, of course, being in my office means that I find a few things that need doing.

You never know who various department heads might know, they could provide that perfect person to fit into this project, I start e-mailing inquires with this hope in mind. One thing leads to another and a couple of hours pass while I tend to the business of running the SGC. If I didn't have a lot of say on who gets into the SGC and what they do I would never leave this office and neither would the man who backs me on my choice of personnel assignments, Hammond.

He and I both like going home. Well, at least for few hours every night. I get an added bonus, time to run a team off world.

Only Hammond and I know about my efficient organization of the base and I want to keep it that way. Someone might find out just how well I can run this place and that would put paid to my rep as a dumb, but tough as nails kinda guy. My carefully cultivated rep helps deter notions of promotion. I love that it says 'colonel' on my uniform. Yep!

So, I'm delayed just long enough by clerical circumstance that I hit the rush hour traffic in Colorado Springs. Getting from the Mountain to the Academy to recruit the kid will take time. I swear every car in the state is funneled into these two main north-south routes at the base of the Front Range. It's times like this that I'm glad I drive a very large and intimidating truck. The A/C comes in handy too. Ya think!

Stopping at the first security point, I want to find out where Lt. Van Sickle is; I'm requested to pull out of line while they locate him, which they do very quickly. Knowing who I am, the kids at the gate get me back on the road promptly and one even rides with me to insure that I get there, with one of his buddies following behind in a security jeep. This may sound like overkill, but this is a training facility, so overkill is SOP around the Academy, everyone gets to participate.

Once securely parked outside the dormitory where Van Sickle is billeted, I lose my escort. At the dorm's entrance, I'm challenged. Which isn't really surprising, considering that I'm not wearing a uniform or BDU's, just civvies. Once they see my ID, they escort me to the correct door. My second escort disappears around the corner as I knock. The door opens and I'm greeted by a young man with a head of bright red hair and a heavily freckled face.

"Looking for someone?"

Freckles is dressed in Air Force Blues. Although his nameplate says Roy, he doesn't offer his name as he looks me up and down disdainfully. Although I'm out of uniform, I should radiate flyer, but his reaction screams 'unwanted civilian and/or official snoop.' My second surprise is that I'm getting 'flyer' vibes from him. He's a fellow aviator.

"Yes, Lt. Van Sickle, is he here?" Jingling my keys I answer him and wave an arm towards the door he's holding partially closed.

"Sure, come on in. I'll pry him out of the bathroom for you."

He seems to have decided that I'm not here to rob him, he steps back to let me in and waves me to the chair at the nearest of the two desk/bed combos that are dorm standard. There's a door across the room, must be the bathroom. Freckles proves my premise by pressing his body to the door whispering into the crack between door and jamb. Letting the books around the room hold my attention, I ignore what he is doing and before I know it, he is suddenly standing expectantly before me again.

"He'll be right out."

The kid is polite, but he gives off a powerful 'don't mess with me' attitude.

He offers no other information verbally, but his body language says his doesn't trust me being here and he's letting me know that he'll be right here to keep an eye on me.

Tough.

Freckles confuses me. Not his attitude, that's is who he is. But, the mistrust is something else, like he's had frequent run-ins with unsavory people lately, making him assume the worst right away of any strangers. Too many strangers.

The bathroom door opens, a young man in dark blue slacks, black shoes, a white T-shirt and a white towel being vigorously rubbed across his obscured head emerges. The towel drops to reveal, a fairly normal face, the right side looks a little red and puffy. It's the right eye that really weirds me out, probably because its green is darker than the other. In addition, the hair on that side is just fuzz contrasting sharply with his otherwise longish dark hair.

My eyes follow the dropping trowel then switches to the empty hand. Two fingers, bound by tape are all I can see there and knowing there are no others I feel an uneasiness crawl over me.

That glass eye is a little spooky; this is the first time I've seen it.

He looks better, Jacob had given him another treatment about ten days after saving his right eye, and I just hadn't seen the kid since he left the SGC. I kept touch through others.

"Colonel O'Neill!"

My name seemed shocked out of Lt. Eric Van Sickle's mouth just a little too loudly; the effect on Lt. Roy is more profound, causing him to come to full standing attention from a slouched sit, a fleeting relieved look crosses his face.

Now I know what Roy's problem is. He's been guarding Eric. Just what kind of visitors has the kid been subjected to, to create this kind of behavior in his roommate?

"At ease, Lt. Roy, Lt. Van Sickle."

I don't rise and I don't salute back. For crying out loud, I'm in civvies, no need to stand on protocol.

"This is an informal visit. Lt. Roy, can you find something elsewhere to occupy you for awhile?"

"Yes Sir, Colonel Sir."

He still snaps to attention, salutes smartly and leaves... slowly, almost warningly, from the room. He's still suspicious.

Pausing until the door closes, I turn to study Van Sickle, to judge his state of mind; he gives me no clues. This puzzles me, we seemed to have connected somewhat back when I last visited him in the infirmary, and he had seemed ready to take life on and win. The kid's plans are a mystery to me, all I know is the he is due to be discharged from the Air Force in 45 days for disability, and that he has remained in all his courses, keeping up his grades, but is forbidden physical training.

"Sit down Lieutenant. I have something I want to discuss with you."

"Certainly Sir."

He sits on the other chair, clear across the room; he makes no attempt to drag it closer. So, I stand and drag mine to him. This seems to surprise him and... makes him uncomfortable?

"Been doing okay? Doc Fraiser says that you're exceeding expectations."

Striving for openness I smile and put on my friendly face.

"She sees what she wants, others have opened my eyes to reality."

That friendly face of mine is difficult to keep after that deadpan delivery in a hostilely tinted voice. His words confuse me; I need a little clarification.

"Reality? And that would be?" I ask.

"That I'll never amount to anything now, I'm damaged goods."

Now this is where I lose the smile and probably the rest of that friendly little mask to be replaced with my command face. My next words are without thought, a mistake I should not have made.

"Who the hell told you that?" I bark out.

"Does it matter to you, to anyone? It's true." He bites out in a defiant accusing tone. Catching a flash of anger in his eye, I notice the contrasting dull glassy glint of the other. I feel a chill run along my spine.

"What happened to your, 'I'll survive' attitude that you so proudly proclaimed to me only a few weeks ago?"

'And why the implied accusation in your voice? '

Has someone has been filling his head with nonsense? Shit, I hope so.

"Oh, I'll survive, a bare existence with no real future, but I'll survive. Just long enough to really hate myself."

His words are flippantly, firmly and flatly spoken, and the kid's face hardens as he tells the truth as he now believes it. That shocks me.

'He believes it. Crap. '

Shaking off my shock, I put metal in my voice as I continue.

"Kid, I came here to offer you a future, granted it's not as grand as the one stolen from you, but just as important, in defense..."

"No, you came to assuage your guilt..." He rose during his angry delivery, shouting me down. I matched his actions, all of them.

"Stop... Right... There... Sit, that's an order."

'Now I'm mad and I need to leave because I'm no good to him pissed. '

Attempting to strangle my anger, it is beyond me that my voice doesn't quiver with its volcanic force.

"I don't pretend to know what's changed your attitude, but I do know that the Air Force still 'owns' you for another 45 days, and I order you to report to Major Fraiser, at the SGC, tomorrow at 0900 sharp. If you are not there, I will personally come for you with a couple of SF's to drag you there. Once there you will do you utmost to comply with her 'suggestions.' Have I made myself clear airman?"

My persistent edging towards the door is killing the force of my words, but that is the least of my concerns; I have only the barest control of myself. I don't know what's the matter with me; I shouldn't be reacting like this.

It's not... me.

"Yes Sir, Colonel Sir."

***

The drive back to the Mountain doesn't happen. I drive home instead. Going home takes me back the same way I came, only a little further south of the Mountain. Driving aggressively, I power the big truck through the late afternoon rush traffic and I'm probably scaring the hell out of everyone in my path. Although, I'm a little dangerous right now, I'll crash the truck before I'll touch any of them; this is not their fault. It's a wonder I'm not getting pulled over, but I'm pissed. The kid I'd grown to like so much was not the one that I had just talked to. His attitude did seem familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I did know that it was not really him. He was projecting, only acting the way someone else expects him to act.

'Projecting.'

A psyche term, and believe me when I say I know a lot of them. It was my misfortune that I learned their meanings at the hands of a few uncaring professionals back after my first couple of times having the shit kicked out of me early in my career in Special Operations. They were a brutal bunch, only interested in what they could learn from my shattered psyche and patching me together just long enough to do the next assignment.

Sometimes I marvel that I ever survived them. 'Or, did I? '

I've got to turn this kid around, and shock treatment is the answer.

O'Neill Shock Treatment.

Fraiser is not going to want to go along with me on this, I'll have to be very careful to keep her and kid in the dark until it's too late for either of them to back out.

[see Chapter Two]