Lt. Eric Van Sickle

'Damn, why is my life so shitty? One stupid mistake and it fell apart.'

I'm staring at the door Colonel O'Neill had just backed through.

'Backed through.'

Like I was a threat to him... and maybe, I was.

My behavior was inexcusable; he was here to help. Lately, I've had a lot of help, not all of it good and that small amount of good help I did get I liked to think came from him. From the man I'd just insulted, a man I've learned to idolize.

'Shit!'

I drop my head into my hands and clench the fingers of my good hand brutally into my hair, imagining the pain I could cause by ripping it out by the roots.

And, damn! Thad acted like Colonel O'Neill was here to eat me or something. He's gotten just a little too protective; especially for someone I can't even tell what really happened to me. Although he's flying those attack choppers right now, he's on the Astronaut Track. He wants to go into space; he would flip to know that I'm already been to two alien worlds already.

Even though I've only known Thad for a couple of weeks, I feel like I've known him my entire life. Just thinking about him calms me.

Talking about myself to anyone,'unless ordered to,' is something I don't do, but I told Thad everything. At least everything that wasn't classified, and talking with him helped me a lot. Unlike the 'ordered to' confession that left me feeling dirty and defeated. That feeling is now a part of me and I've turned that crushing anger of failure back onto Colonel O'Neill without a second thought.

At first I was afraid of him, everyone was telling us to watch out for 'The Colonel.' That he would eat us alive, that no one was good enough for him and that it was impossible to be 'sufficient' let alone  'good' in the man's eyes. For a man with such impossibly high standards, he was so different with us on that first world. He saved our butts then and patiently explained everything, joking with us, calling us 'kids,' like he was our 'father.' He felt like a father too, something that I'm not too experienced with, though I do remember it.

And I miss it.

'Damn it, Dad! '

Well, it felt good to feel that again with this soldier, this 'Colonel' that was impossible to please. But Sgt. Holliran explained that he had been pleased with us, that we just didn't speak his language. The colonel is low-key, but he means every word he says. Holliran told us to pay attention when he speaks and I did after that. And, after my accident, I listened with a new understanding, he cared, he really cared. About me, not just about the soldier, but me.

Oh, yeah, he was upset that he'd lost a good airman. Lost someone he could see fitting into the future of the SGC, someone who could help him. However, he was also upset that he'd been the catalyst to the incident. He felt badly about that, more than I thought he should. That caused such conflicting feelings in me, which sent my thoughts back to my own father and what had happened between us. More like what hadn't happened, and to his untimely death. My father that showed me less love that this man who should have been no more than one instructor in a long line of easily forgotten instructors.

I too had come close to an untimely death; I'd survived only to find myself maimed hideously. And this instructor, Colonel O'Neill, had moved heaven and earth to rectify that for me, something my own father wouldn't have done.

That this man would do so much for me caused long unused feelings to stir in me. I felt for the colonel as I would for my father if I could and if he knew of these feelings, I'm sure he'd probably be embarrassed. No doubt he has children and doesn't need me. But just for a while there, I felt as if I was his son, I basked in his acceptance of my existence.  Stupid, really stupid. If my own father didn't want me, why would anyone else?That makes me mad, and that's what caused me to lash out at the colonel. All of those feelings of being unwanted and unloved are very close to the surface right now because of the mandatory counseling and things that I had buried have been drudged up to be placed in the harsh light of day. The absolute last place I wanted to have them ever again.

And it's tearing me apart.

Dr Daniel Jackson

Wanting to see how Jack's meeting with Lt. Van Sickle had gone, I decided to drop by his office. He'd been so up when he had come by earlier and being with a euphoric Jack is a rare experience not to be missed. I hastened my pace.

Finding my way down that little known short hall, I found his office locked. This had me puzzled. Where is Jack?

Checking with the topside Security Desk, they tell me he had checked out early in the afternoon to the Academy, but not back in.

Glancing at my watch, I found it was after 6:00 p.m. He couldn't still be at the Academy. No, he should be back by now. It's clear that he's not in the Mountain. A sudden thought strikes me cold.

Oh, goodness, no!

Something must have gone wrong. Could the Lieutenant have refused? No, that's just not possible, he's military; he might try, but that would be as far as it goes. And why would he? It's a great opportunity. Jack went to great lengths to procure this chance for him.

Something is wrong. If everything were going according to his plan he'd be here, I know Jack. He'd be here and be working on the smooth deployment of that plan. So, what kind of bump has he hit? The only way I'll find out is to find him.

Calling his cell I get his voicemail instead, and his answering machine when I try his home.

Okay, this is not good; he's never out of range of both phones. This just confirms that something has gone wrong because as 2IC of the SGC he has to be in touch. And Jack takes his responsibilities very seriously, despite appearances.

He's probably at home and, being the most stubborn man I know, he'll be up on the roof trying to figure out a way to flatten the bump he's just tripped over -- he never gives up. I'll drive by his home just to make sure he doesn't use too much force on that bump.

Fortunately, Jack lives fairly close to Cheyenne Mountain in a very small neighborhood surrounded by wild country. He says the house doesn't look isolated, but he can bail out the back of the house and disappear into the woods, 'it's a soldier thing.'

Janet says it's a 'former POW thing.'

A point of view I find rather ridiculous since Jack spends so much time being a prisoner of the Goa'uld and he doesn't exhibit any of the horrible things you hear manifesting in other POW's in similar situations.

It's not Jack, he's more interested in getting out and kicking their butts.

His truck is in the dark driveway of his house when I finally come within view of it. Parking in the driveway, I step out and study my friend's home. No lights are visible, and after knocking on the door, he doesn't appear. So, I go back to the driveway to gain access to that side of the house, and to where I will find the access ladder to his rooftop telescope platform.

Climbing the ladder, I find... no one.

Backing down the ladder to the ground, I continue around the house and still no lights show. Crossing the lawn to the back deck, I almost kill myself tripping over something in the dark. Sprawling face first onto damp turf, I'm thankful that Jack has one of the softest lawns I ever had the misfortune to land on.

"You okay there Daniel?"

Jack's voice is so clear and close in the darkness of his backyard I yelp.

"Daniel!"

Jack must have been sitting there in the dark and his voice rang with alarm. I can hear him scrabbling around on the deck and in my mind's eye I see him lose his footing on those dark steps in his haste to reach me. This thought concerns me; I don't want him to fall, especially since I know that a fall down those steps will not end on soft grass. And one of us face-first on the ground at a time is more than enough.

"Stay there, I'm okay, you just startled me. What are you sitting in the dark for?"

As I'm picking myself up off the ground, I hear a metal twang as the landscape lighting comes on, giving me just enough light to make out the sprinkler I'd stumbled over. Able to see a clear path, I start making my way to the deck steps.

"Hoping that you'd give up and go home."

All I can see is a darker silhouette in the murky light; he settles himself on the top step.

"And what kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

Not put off at all by his growled lack of welcome and because I want him to talk to me, I sit down on the bottom step and stretch out my legs along the riser, blocking his escape into the yard.

"Not much of one I guess. Sorry, I'm lousy company tonight."

Such words from him are a heartfelt apology, one that I accept. He scoots his knees in my direction and rests his head back against the banister. In the darkness, I can't read his expression. I can barely make out his form. In his own way he's telling me he wants to talk, just by staying where he is. That's why he turned on the landscape lights rather than the deck lights. When the subjects are deeply personal, he finds comfort in the darkness.

"And it shows. So, what's the problem?"

Even when he's willing, I'll still have to encourage him to talk.

"That's the problem. I don't know."

'Opening up so soon? That's a new record for him. ' Squinting up at him I see little and imagine him shrugging his shoulders, an apt movement to match his words and voice. Although I can't see him, I can hear him and he's fidgeting, another clear sign of his current state of mind.

"Maybe I can help Jack, but you'll have to give me a little more information. Forgot my crystal ball."

He chuckles a little at that; it makes me feel better about this. He's not completely stumped. I would bet on that.

"I talked to Lt. Van Sickle. It's about him. But it resonates something in me, something bad."

'Shit.'

"Ah, and that would be...?"

"Remember when Kennedy tried to take Teal'c and what they were going to do to him?"

Jack's voice hardens; he is remembering his struggle to keep Teal'c from being taken, as am I. Some subjects can get Jack mad at light speed and this is one of them. I answer him in a neutral tentative voice, hoping to calm him.

"Yes..."

"Early in my career, I got really torn up in a couple of missions. And out of some misguided concern for my well-being I was given to the head shrinkers... and they did to me what Kennedy wanted to do to Teal'c."

My stomach lurched at the bleakness in his voice; a bleakness that sparked a hot anger in me for the needless suffering my friend has endured over the years. And like a fool, I let my voice reveal my thoughts.

"No!"

The word rang with my shocked denial as I yelped it out, Jack's voice rose in volume, mistaking my meaning.

"Damn it, Daniel, yes! You thought I was bad when you first met me. Back then I was worse. I knew what a gun barrel tasted like way before... before Charlie... died."

He choked on his son's name, but continued.

"I'm positive that what they did to me... how they changed me, placed me on the path to what I almost did to Abydos."

He almost whispered out the last words. I could feel his emotional pain... and fear. His voice was telling me just how badly he'd been hurt. How scared of what he could have done. He's been sitting here in the dark remembering, not hiding from me. His pain gave rise to some of my own, he is my friend and I feel for him. This new information has me racking my mind for clues to how I can be of help. Only to wonder if his hopelessness, his hidden buried despair could be rooted that far back in his life. I'd always thought Charlie's death was the wellspring of Jack's lack of concern for his own survival.

"But you went back to your wife, and you had Charlie. You've always talked about that time of your life with fondness. I don't understand."

Jack hasn't spoken often of his married life, but there was always a contentment in those few words, which I'd never heard in his voice before.

"Eventually, I figured out the shrinks weren't interested in helping me, They only saw me as their chance to see how far a man could be pushed, so I learned to play their game and won. After a while, I was discharged from their care. That probably saved my life. But, I don't think I was sane then. Taking control of my life, I forced myself to act like I'd been before all that shit happened. With time, I got better and the act became natural. To the point where I didn't have to think about every move I made. I was okay until... you know."

Yes, I knew. Charlie and Abydos. His voice told me that he'd regained iron control of himself again. Thoughts of Charlie could still rip that control away, maybe it always would. Someday, I really hoped that he would be able to remember his son without such soul searing anguish.

"Okay... And just how is that connected to Eric Van Sickle?"

"Today, I saw how I was back then... in him."

Such a simple thing to say, but the implication was horrible.

"What do you mean?"

'And just what is it doing to you, my friend? '

"Someone's been messing with his head, he's not the same level headed 'get on with life' kid I last talked to a couple of weeks ago, that's what I mean."

He nearly spat out the last words, not angry with me, but with the situation.

"Who would do such a thing?"

"I don't know. I might even be barking up the wrong tree, but his roommate was protective of him. Simply because I was a stranger, he automatically assumed that I was there to cause problems. That tells me a lot, but not who or why."

His angry words of a moment ago have burned out; his voice now has a deflated edge. He's uncertain, not an easy state for Jack.

"We need to find out then."

"We? You mean me; I'll start asking around tomorrow. That's another reason why I was sitting in the dark, I was trying to figure out what to do."

His movements are sure as I hear him shift around above me, he's made up his mind, but I somehow needed to change it.

"Jack I think that I should do this for you."

The lack of sound from his direction tells me he's listening. Speaking quickly, I ruthlessly use this opportunity to convince him that it's okay for him to accept my help.

'Please Jack, listen to me. Friends help friends.' A little voice in my heard whispers, 'Yes, and he's been burned badly by his friends too. ' That whisper fuels my need to convince him that not all of his friends will. That I won't.

"It's a military thing and I'm a colonel. They have to answer my questions."

The man's not dumb, but sometimes he can't see the forest for the trees, I smile at my use of such an apt metaphor involving Jack's favorite off world greenery.

"That's my point, exactly."

Reaching out I shake his ankle and keeping my hand there hoping the physical contact will deepen his attention to my words. He needs to hear them if his mind is to make the jump onto my line of thinking.

"Excuse me?"

Those two words heavily drip with the old O'Neill sarcasm, telling me of his confusion over my statement. Feeling his gaze fall on my hand where I grasp his leg, physically asking him to stay and listen. He doesn't pull away. Maybe I'm getting through to him?

"You will ask official questions and they will give you official answers, not necessarily the truth. But if I ask, I'm asking unofficial questions that will get unofficial answers, which might be closer to the truth."

"And you'd do this?"

Such an incredulous tone he uses. Oh, Jack, why do you find it so difficult to believe friends do such things for each other? Although I do believe, he wouldn't have had this problem before Frank Cromwell left him behind.

"I am your friend."

'Not everyone will abandon you, Jack. '

"Yeah Danny, you are."

Dr Janet Fraiser

Lt. Van Sickle arrived at my office door in the Infirmary promptly at 9:00 a.m.; I invited him in to ask him a few questions about his health.

He seemed... well, off.

Where was the excitement?

He was polite and to the point, but I might as well been talking to a computer. No, that's not right, there would have been more reaction from the machine. I could not get past the silence, nor see more than a blank mask on his face. Unable to determine his emotional state informally, I shelved that task for later. As I could always talk to his counselor about that aspect of his health.

Colonel O'Neill's e-mail had been waiting for me when I arrived in the Infirmary at 7:30 a.m.

It told me when the lieutenant was to report to me.

That was, well... off too.

The colonel will usually come in person.

Sure, he uses his e-mail, probably a lot more than we give him credit for, but he usually tries to keep in personal contact with as many people as he can who work under him in the SGC. And that would be about everyone on base. I'm sure that he gets a better picture of the readiness of his command this way.

When it comes to medicine, I feel the same way. 'Hands on' is better.

This too will have to wait until later, for when I can speak to him face-to-face, seems the thing to do.

Making sure that the Lieutenant had been assigned on-base quarters I note its location.

Next, I outline my plan of physical conditioning; he is to walk for 15 minutes and rest for 15 minutes. After five repetitions, he is to take two hours off to eat and rest. Then repeat the first part before quitting for the day. I admonish him to eat properly, drink adequate liquids, sleep reasonable hours, and not to overtire himself. And telling him that if he has any problems at all, he's to return to me for reevaluation. In addition, he's to report to me every morning for the next two weeks until I release him for limited duty.

He doesn't ask what the limits are. He hasn't asked about anything. He sits there nodding in answer and looking at the floor a lot.

Does he even know what he's here for? Surely, the colonel told him what he has in mind.

This is all so puzzling.

I watch the young man leave, clutching his instructions in his hand.

His responses tomorrow morning will enable me to either increase the walking time or decrease it. I am sure that I'll increase it. Today is just my measuring stick, to confirm his state of current fitness. Over the next few days I'll increase his time and distance because I want him to improve rapidly and to do that I need to keep a close eye on his condition.

After the lieutenant leaves, I try to call the colonel, but his office machine answers suggesting that he can be reached via e-mail.

One of these days, he's going to have to get an aide, and then we will know where he is. Of course, that's exactly why he doesn't have one. He likes his freedom to roam the base and has taken the necessary steps to safeguard it. Can't say that I blame him.

Instead, I call Lt. Van Sickle's counselor, talking at length with him. The more I talk, the more concerned I become. His description of the lieutenant's state of mind is vastly different from what little I've seen. If what he says is true, I need to rethink my position on him going off world. I ask for a copy of lieutenant's chart, which the counselor offers to e-mail immediately.

Impatiently I wait for nearly three hours before it appears in my in-box and can begin reading. However, the more I read, the more concerned I become. What I read is just not possible.

This is the third thing today that has been... strangely off.

What would be the odds that all three of these off occurrences would center around Colonel O'Neill somehow? I certainly wouldn't bet against it.

Needing some clarity, I know just who might be able to provide it.

Lifting the phone, I dial.

"Hello, Dr MacKenzie...

Dr Daniel Jackson

Delayed in starting to track down what had been happening to Lt. Van Sickle for Jack, I finally escape the Mountain. Although, I didn't want to put off this investigation at all, sometimes 'shit happens,' as Jack is so fond of saying.

During the morning, I was trapped at the SGC, and watched vaguely amused as Jack did his utmost to avoid Janet and Eric.

Eric I could understand, but I really don't know why he was avoiding Janet.

As my thoughts have been centered on Jack all morning, I have just realized that he may be having paternal feelings towards the young lieutenant.

Many have seen how he reacts to children; they draw him in like a magnet. Few have realized that he gravitates towards young adults also. This little known phenomena can readily be seen when he gets involved in the SGC training programs. The trainers all seem to know that Jack is soft on the young kids in their charge. However, the kids who have heard about the 'bad assed impossible-to-please Colonel O'Neill' are stunned by his nurturing attitude towards them. Then, just as they start to relax around him, they discover that one foul up gets them up close and personal with the 'bad assed' part of Jack. Because, just like any dad, Jack yells them deaf when they screw up.

So it only follows that if he yells at the new recruits, he's yelled at Eric too.

Therefore, Jack must be afraid of what might happen if they met face-to-face. Just as he would have agonized over his son's reaction after dressing him down for some minor infraction of the rules.

Jack can face down a dozen Goa'uld each holding a mature symbiote looking for a host with him being the only possibility for light years. That's no sweat for him. However, put him in a personal emotional situation and he feels helpless.

It's all about control; he feels he has none in such a situation.

Since he can't command another person's feelings and believes he can't really influence them either, he avoids being placed in any position that forces him to deal with his or anyone else's. He is so wrong about that; he influences everyone around him. Not necessarily positively, but he provokes very strong feelings in the people around him.

I'd always wondered why situations rife with emotion leave Jack feeling powerless. But, after revealing his experience with those first military psychiatrists, I guess I now know why. How can he believe that others feel friendship, fondness or even love for him? He had been striped of his very will to live, believing the lies told to him, convincing him he was worthless, unwanted and not worthy of anyone's love. Only through shear will did he fight free of their deceit, but somewhere along the way, his trust of others disappeared. He had been taught that he could not trust anyone's emotional declarations. So strong is that distrust that only dogs and children are capable of breaking through it quickly. He only allows humans to breach his fortress walls after endless trials and tests, a nearly hopeless audition for his trust and friendship.

What they did to Jack is just one more reason I prefer to mistrust the military, I only trust Jack.

Now free of the Mountain and its more pressing claims on my time, I'm finally on the road to the Air Force Academy.Once I arrive, I have a simple plan, and that is to speak to anyone and everyone who knows Eric. Of course, the first person to start with will be Eric's most recent roommate.

For low security areas like this, I have no trouble getting onto the Academy grounds, my military ID is almost as good as Jack's.

Parking at the first security check, I get out and walk the rest of the way.

Planning to spend most of the day here doesn't bother me, as I always like to visit. I've actually been here a number of times, as a lecturer or accompanying Sam or Jack when they have business here.

Many of the department heads know me by sight, but many of the instructors do not, giving me a certain anonymity that Jack could never have here. Even in civilian dress, Jack screams officer. As a matter of fact, I've seen experienced sergeants salute him out of uniform, which is something they should know better than to do. Jack explained once, that by saluting him while he's out of uniform, they were compromising his personal security.

In a conflict zone, Jack would become an instant target. And Jack is already his own conflict zone in and of himself.

Jack had dug up information on Eric's roommate, one Lt. Thaddeus Sean Roy, a young man who is probably as Irish as Jack himself. Both share the tendency to reddish hair, though 'Thad,' as I find he is known as, has it in the extreme. I know which dorm he's in as well as his room number and his class schedule. According to an impressed Jack, he wants to be an astronaut and has a good chance of achieving that goal. Right now though, Thad is flying gun-platform helicopters; this also impressed Jack, the jet jockey. Lt. Roy is an introductory instructor on trainer helicopters. Jack says that it's almost unheard of for a cadet to be an instructor too.

Accordingly Jack proclaimed, 'The kid has talent.'

Lt. Roy also doesn't have the security clearance to know what Eric is being trained for. All he knows is that Eric is in Command Tract training destined for leadership.

Picking my place to encounter Thad, catching him just as he's leaving an aeronautics class, I fall in step with him and open a dialogue.

"Uh, hi, I understand that you're Lt. Van Sickle's roommate."

I'm nice and friendly. He is not.

He grabs my arm and jerks me to a stop.

"Leave him the hell alone. Haven't you tormented him enough?"

His ruddy freckled face is a fiery red, his angry eyes just slits; I can feel a bruise forming under his tightening grip. He is upset and I need to allay his misconception of my identity before he does more than unknowingly bruise me.

"Please, I'm not who you think I am. I'm a friend of Colonel O'Neill, he's worried about Eric."

Trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, I maintain eye contact with him, letting him read me as I try to look as innocent and sincere as possible.

He must like what he sees because he releases me, steps back, and looks a little dazed.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I..."

"No problem. Here let's sit."

Pointing out the bench alongside the walkway, I lead him in that direction.

"I'm the one, who should be sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Leaving plenty of room for the jumpy young man, I sit at one end of the bench.

"No, you shouldn't be the one to apologize, you just walked into something. I made the mistake and jumped to a conclusion."

He remains standing, sincerely apologetic. He fidgets much as Jack would in such an emotional situation.

"What did you mean about Eric being tormented?"

He shakes his head at my gesture for him to sit; his eyes dart everywhere, seeking to see everything. His feet are in constant motion, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Yet, I have the distinct feeling that this young man is not the kind to run, but would willingly meet trouble head on. Something has him spooked.

"It's a long story and I can't explain it here. Too many eyes and ears. And, please I'm not being paranoid, I've already been threatened, actually they threatened Eric if I didn't back off. I'm taking a chance just accepting your word for who you are. If you're a friend of Colonel O'Neill, you must be okay. But you could be just saying that to get to Eric."

"No, no I am a friend of Jack's... eh, Colonel O'Neill. If you can't talk here, just tell me where and when, because he needs to know what's going on. Eric is important to him; he just wants to help. Please."

Trying to keep my voice level and calm, I hope that he will reciprocate. However, I find myself glancing around, his behavior is catching.

"Okay, tomorrow is my off day, I'm free to go off base. Could you meet me tomorrow, outside the public library at 11:00 a.m.? I've got to go. They were watching me. So far today, I haven't seen them, but..."

"Then go, I'll be there."

Thad bolts away, up the curving walk; he stops at the top of the gentle incline and stares back. I've seen Jack do that, checking for hostiles on his back trail and I shudder that one so young already has developed that habit.

'Jack, what have you stumbled on to?'

[see Chapter Three]