General Hammond

Teal'c, as promised, has come to inform me that Colonel O'Neill is showing positive signs of improvement, he is not happy about the restraints being used, nor am I. Colonel O'Neill has a distinct hatred for them. When Dr Jackson was confined for schizophrenia O'Neill made his thoughts on restraints and psychobabble plain to all. If Dr Frasier thinks they are necessary, I will go with her judgement and Teal'c grudgingly agrees.

I have read all the reports pertinent to Colonel O'Neill's condition. At first, no progress was evident, but now ground is being gained. I have soothed the way of anyone working on this problem as much as possible.

I have just returned from visiting O'Neill myself; he has been on the dialysis machine for 24 hours. His restless movements, though alarming, I am told are a good sign. Dr Frasier and Captain Carter are unable to predict when O'Neill will awaken or what his condition will be when he does.

Dr. Jackson and Teal'c still speak of being unable to 'sense' his presence, that only his body is there in the Infirmary. I don't know what to make of that, but I have learned to heed both men. Nothing seems strange to me any longer after the last two years.

Captain Carter seems to be staying away from the Colonel, but I do know that she is working on trying to decipher the technology behind the mount of the 'lawnboard.' I hope that scientific curiosity is the reason behind her absence.

On the other hand, she may just be trying to stave off the inevitable rumors about her and O'Neill.

I know that there is something there, between them, but neither will allow anything to come of it.

I hope the Colonel recovers soon. Running the SGC alone is difficult. He does an excellent job in the limited time he has to do all of his work here as my 2IC. I don't know where he learned to do it so well, nowhere in his records is any kind of posting to explain it. His education records show he is qualified, but education does not necessarily equate to ability. Experience is important. He could have particular experience in one of those blacked-out sections of his record that even I don't have clearance for.

Teal'c

I have just returned from visiting CaptainCarter in her lab, she finds it difficult to be near O'Neill in his current state, seeing him apparently in pain, would be difficult to endure for any friend. She is not weak in her inability to watch over him, it raises the old pain she had endured during her Mother's long painful illness. I have no wish for her to be reminded of that and I am sure that O'Neill would not either.

So I take the time to keep her informed as to his condition as I do also GeneralHammond.

As to DanielJackson I forcibly removed him from O'Neill's room, took him to the Commissary and watched him while he ate. He was not in the least happy about my insistence. I then told him not to reappear for at least ten hours and that if anything happened I would personally come for him immediately.

GeneralHammond visited after midnight for a short time, I stood outside the door, as is my custom when he comes.

He did not appear as worried as before for which I am glad.

Having taken care of everyone, I will indulge myself, sitting upon the floor keeping my brother's face in view I meditate, not a full kelno'reem, but a light meditation. My hope is to detect my brother's soul, to give him a beacon to find his way home. That may sound 'silly,' a term O'Neill is fond of, but even with my newly acquired knowledge I feel that this might help.

There is no basis for this belief, but even if I cannot reach my brother, it does help me pass the remainder of the night.

At the edge of my awareness, I can feel the 'Mountain' awaken to the new day. Sounds increase my awareness of more life, even the increase in the light at the bottom of the room's door heralds the coming day and there is something else...

O'Neill!

My eyes snap open involuntarily. Quickly I search the room for the source of my alarm. I find nothing. What did I feel?

Standing I approach my brother. I lay a gentle hand upon his arm. Closing my eyes I feel, I feel... he is there! My brother has returned. Spinning on my heel, I quickly exit the room. I ask the first nurse I see to sit with O'Neill. My swift steps carry me to DanielJackson's room.

I promised that if there was a change that I would fetch him.

This is a change, a very good change.

Daniel

'What!'

Banging, someone's banging on my door, I pull the pillow over my head.

"Go away!" I shout, annoyed that anyone dare make this much noise this early. I roll onto my stomach and try to ignore it.

"DanielJackson!"

'Teal'c?' What's Teal'c here for... 'Jack!'

"Shit!" I shout and spring from the bed nearly tripping headlong in the dark. I fumble for the light switch and the door lock at the same time. Finally, I jerk it open as the light snaps on.

"It's Jack!" I ask Teal'c who pushes the door open further stepping close to me.

"I felt him."

Those three words rock my world.

Teal'c felt Jack. He made it back. The body in that room is not just a body anymore, but Jack. I feel my jaw working, but words escape me.

"You must come, now." Teal'c reaches out to drag me from the room.

"Wait, I need some clothes."

"Quickly then, we may have no time. We need to be there to greet him."

Teal'c is never impatient, but now he displays all the classic signs of it. I quickly struggle into pants and shirt, I pick up my boots and snag a set of socks and barefoot push him back into the hall and close the door behind me. We must make a sight hurrying through the halls and bursting in the Infirmary to surprise the nurse sitting with Jack.

I ignore her. Dropping my boots to the floor I head for Jack, Teal'c takes the time to politely thank her for watching Jack and asks that she find Dr Frasier and bring her here.

Quickly.

Pulling the bedside chair up to the edge of his bed I sit and lean across the bed toward him. My fingers gently touch his face, feeling the stubble that had grown since the nurses shaved him yesterday while I watched, fearful of them cutting him. A baseless fear, yet I felt it. Now I feel something else, Jack. Not as strong as I could hope for, but plainly there. I feel Teal'c step up to stand beside me, he reaches out to run the back of his index finger down Jack's near cheek as I still cup the far one.

We would make a strange sight frozen like this.

"I must inform GeneralHammond. I will return."

"I know you will. Hurry."

"Indeed."

Teal'c has been taking care of SG-1 for Jack, his insistence on my eating and sleeping, being delivered here, now to Jack's side all of his perceived responsibility to Jack. He's even been keeping the General and Sam informed of Jack's condition. I suspect that he will also stop to talk to Sam before actually returning. She has found it difficult to see Jack's struggle, too reminiscent of her Mother's struggle.

I slip my hand from Jack's face to grip his hand, willing my strength to him thought our physical contact. I watch his face, his eyes now move beneath closed lids, he still moves restlessly, though not as much I think.

"Jack you need to wake up." I softly tell him. I mumble and talk at him for what seems like forever, I get no response from him. I must have only been there for mere minutes before Janet arrives.

"Daniel, what's the problem here?" She is breathless, disheveled and rushed. Did the nurse root her from her bed, this early that is entirely possible?

"Jack's back." Her expression is priceless, a type of shocked disbelief, clearly she sees no change in her patient.

"Teal'c and I feel him. Touch him."

I wave her over.

She moves to the other side of the bed and picks up his hand holding it to her chest, as we've all seen her do many times. Shrugging her shoulders she asks with her eyes 'feel what.'

"Close your eyes, reach out and feel. Like meditation."

She does as I ask. She stands there for a number of minutes before she relaxes, going with it finally. Then, a wondrous expression spreads slowly across her face, shining eyes open forcing a tear to drop down her cheek, a gentle smile graces her face as she looks at Jack then to me.

"It's impossible," she exclaims.

"Yes, it is, but isn't it wonderful?" I answer smiling broadly.

Janet

The Colonel has 'returned' according to Teal'c and Daniel, even I felt him.

It is the most miraculous thing I had ever experienced, but he has not awakened. Sam, who arrived nearly on my heels was disappointed that he was not conscious, but Teal'c instructed her in how to feel the Colonel, that more than made up for his lack of consciousness.

The Colonel can be a prima donna sometimes, he'll make all of SG-1 and I wait on him, all day long.

How word got around the base is beyond me, people started dropping by to check on the Colonel, many I turned away. Colonel O'Neill is a very private person and intensely hates being viewed as weak. Being confined to the Infirmary is definitely weak in his estimation.

So very few are allowed to peek around the doorjamb to see him.

Siler and Ferretti are two.

Of course, the General I would never try to stop. He too is instructed in the technique on how to 'feel' the Colonel. His face is not as easy to catch the wonder on, but we who know him well can see it. As to the Colonel, he is totally unaware of being the center of attention. If he were, his outraged bellow would startle NORAD above us.

I am able to busy myself with tending to the Colonel and performing the necessary tests needed to monitor his condition. I change the screen pack in the dialysis machine. Sam grabbing it before I can even bag it properly and disappearing only long enough to run the spectral on it. The results are encouraging; the screens are hardly catching anymore nanites.

Sam and I agree that we still need to run the dialysis until we have 24 hours of totally negative result for contaminants.

The members of SG-1 drift in and out of the Infirmary quietly throughout the day, taking care of themselves for a change, knowing that soon they will need to care for the Colonel and must to be at their best to do so. I try to rest as much as possible, but anticipation keeps me up.

The day grinds on, our ardor cools. Daniel sits dozing over a book at the head of the Colonel's bed, Sam is beating on the keys of her laptop trying to get down everything she can about the whole mess, scientifically of course. Teal'c stands in his accustomed spot near the door, able to see everyone and all of the Colonel. I am in and out.

"Hmm."

The silence is shattered, everyone freezes, eyes swivel towards the man in the bed.

"Uh, mmm."

Daniel moves first to rest a hand on the Colonel's arm, I move next stopping at the head of the bed and begin to check my patient. He is still restrained. I lift an eyelid, and flick my light at a sluggish pupil, much better.

"Colonel. Colonel, can you hear me? If you can hear me please squeeze my hand."

I pick up his hand and lightly grip it in mine, no response. My eyes check the heart monitor against the wall; heartbeat is still too slow. I perform some alertness tests with negative results.

"Sorry, folks false alarm. Probably involuntary vocalization. Still a very good sign though. He could wake before the night is over."

I know that I have been up too long to stand vigil through the night and SG-1 should not try it either. I tell them that all but one will have to go. Teal'c wins the first watch, Sam the second and Daniel will have the last before the dawn of the next day.

I see the losers to the door, I nod to Teal'c and leave to eat and rest. I will need to be ready for the next day.

Jack

Screaming.

It's deafening.

Who's screaming?

My back arches away from a burning pain. My ears flinch at the sharp slap of leather against flesh.

I scream.

I scream and scream and scream.

Sweat burns my eyes as the hot sun backlights the blood vessels netted in my tightly closed eyelids. Pulses of red haze color the visible hot yellow fire of the sun as each stroke of searing leather connects with the shredded flesh of my back.

God, will it ever stop?

I sob, attempting to draw the superheated air into my starving lungs but I expel it before I can take a full breath, forced out by the thudding shock of yet another burning stroke of the leather, one which curls around my waist to burn across my lower belly.

More pain as I jerk downward against the metal manacles holding my arms spread out and above my head, my mangled wrists rival the pain from the endless strokes against my back.

Minor.

All this is minor. My anguish burns brighter than any of the pain these bastards can inflict. I can hide in that kind of pain. The death I'm responsible for here I cannot escape that.

Unable to endure it any longer I release my guilty pain with a sob; true tears burn across my sun blistered cheeks causing more 'minor' pain.

Through the open floodgate of emotion, my secret guilt flows forth. I cannot stop it. I cannot slow it. I am engulfed in a seething inferno of 'real' pain.

My cry is ripped from my very soul as I force open my eyes...

Daniel

Jack has been restless, flinching and uttering inarticulate sounds. He quiets down as morning approaches. It is shocking how fast things change, if I had not had a hand resting on his forearm, I would not have felt his shaking. He is sobbing, crying soundlessly.

Moving closer, I study his face. Tears are leaking from beneath his tightly clenched eyelids; he appears to be gasping for breath, as if panting in pain. He startles me as both hands suddenly jerk sharply against the restraints, his entire body jerks as his eyes snap open.

He screams.

My heart nearly stops at the sound, then to jerkily resume as the scream abruptly breaks off. Jack is left sobbing inconsolably, uncontrollably crying. I'm seeing him react in a way I would swear he is not capable of. So intent am I at his behavior that I don't heard the running feet of every person that heard Jack's scream. Two nurses, Janet and four SF's crowd in the room to stare as my friend writhes on the bed.

All the while Jack's eyes are wildly darting about the room from face to face, fear radiates off his body, his limbs jerking against the restraints, desperate to escape from something. I try to soothe him, but the arrival of so many people terrifies him into greater struggles.

Thank god Janet keeps her head; she begins to herd out the crowd, forcing them out into the hall.

She shuts the door and switches off the light that someone had turned on. The sudden darkness causes Jack to react as badly as the sudden bright light had. My hands are full trying to hold him down, a move that just incites Jack into a greater frenzy. Janet quickly moves to the bed and begins tightening the restraints; I am suddenly glad that she insisted on them. He is a very strong man and trained to kill without weapons, without thought. She averted a tragedy that Jack would not have been able to live with.

He could have been responsible for someone's death.

His guilt would have burned him alive.

"Janet..."

"Daniel." She gasps out while using all her strength to tighten the last of the restraints.

"I will never question one of you decisions again, but what the hell is happening?"

My glasses are barely hanging onto my face as the terrified movements beneath me buck me up and down; I'm nearly lying on Jack to keep him pinned to the bed. My voice is raised as I try to be heard over his grunts and sobs.

"I really don't know Daniel, keep you voice down, calm yourself. He's picking up on your agitation and increasing his own in response to it."

'Damn, how can I be so stupid. Jack's acting like a wild animal.'

"Talk quietly to him, touch him. But... Be... Calm..."

She sinks down onto her knees and starts to gently stroke his arm.

She's lowering her silhouette, to be less threatening. I mirror her actions, slipping down unto the floor. I quietly mutter to him. I remember that she can't sedate him, so we have to calm him the old fashioned way. I'm supposed to be good with words, now I have to prove it.

It feels like hours before his struggles slow his sobbing now hiccuping gasps. His wide, too dark eyes flit between Janet and I, as if trying to determine which is the greater threat. My own eyes are nearly at a level with his as I've worked myself up to stroking his arm with one hand and my other rests beneath his neck, kneading it gently, slowly.

My mouth is dry from the constant quiet words of comfort and nonsense I speak. I discovered that the tone is more important than the content, at one time I quietly and calmly recited the Egyptian Python of Gods in alphabetical order. It is clear that Jack consists of only emotions right now, those names alone should have caused him agitation. He has no comprehension of his surroundings, people or language.

I do hope this is temporary, just an effect of the nanites' weakening control. None of us could live with the fact of a living Jack that is not Jack. I for one have no idea how I could live with that.

How does one bury the living?

"He's asleep."

Janet's voice nearly causes me to jerk. What a disaster that would be, like waking a cranky baby.

"Janet, what's wrong with him," I quietly ask her. She screws up her face in thought before answering.

"We know that the nanites were bonding in areas of higher brain function, maybe the concentration is highest there, leaving lower function to clear out first, many emotional responses originate there. Memory is probably being affected too, he acted as if he were experiencing a very intense painful dream or flashback."

Her hands are busily petting Jack's forearm without thought during her explanation, she watches him with only momentary glances to me.

"Will this happen again?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Her eyes fully on me now, mine narrow as I realize...

"That's not an answer."

"It's the best one I have, we just have to wait and see. Will you be okay here alone? I need to get the screen pack checked, get Sam involved. What just happened was stressful to him, his blood pressure shot through the roof, if I can start sedating him I will. Only Sam can give me an indication if that's possible."

"Go, I'm be okay. If you see Teal'c send him in would you."

"Yes, I will."

I don't even notice Janet return with a nurse to change out the screen filter and leave again. I remain in the dim room absently stroking my now quiet friend's arm as his scream reverberates in my mind.

Jack

Bang!

My head snaps up and around, Sara forgotten. I'm flying to the backdoor; my feet not feeling the ground they used to push me faster towards that sound. Horror blossoms in the pit of my stomach. Only one thing makes that sound.

A gun.

There is only one gun here, in our bedroom, in our nightstand. In the drawer, that I keep locked. Where I keep...

My gun.

Flinging the bedroom door open, not knowing how I got so far so fast, I see nothing from my sudden motionless position just inside the doorway. I smell it, that unmistakable odor that is commonplace on any military base's shooting range. Sara often comments on it clinging to me on a daily basis, its smell as familiar as hers is to me. Maybe more so. It's...

Gunpowder. Cordite.

Then I see it, hanging in the air, that slight veil of white residue, the telltale exhalation of a firearm. Lazily it drifts through the room spreading out, dissipating, settling on every surface, marking the area with its sinister presence. I eagerly breathe it in as I had the foul smell before; neither leaves me with the cold dread that they should, as both are all too much of my being for that.

There, on the floor, my gun. It lies just past the foot of our bed; I take a few steps closer. A hand, palm up, fingers relaxed, motionless.

Charlie!

Oh my god. Charlie!

I'm suddenly kneeling over the body of my son. He too lies on the floor, at the foot of our bed. Charlie appears asleep; my hand goes to his chest to shake him awake. I feel a sticky wetness; I slowly bring my hand to my face to see what is smeared across my son's chest. The fingers spread before my face are red; a thick dripping red liberally coats my palm. Has Charlie been in the garage? Has he been painting his tree house again? No, this isn't paint. The smell, not gunpowder, not paint. It's as familiar as my own heartbeat, I've spilled more than my own fair share of it, my own and of others. Assignments. Its coppery smell/taste burns through my nasal passages. No, God...

It's blood.

Charlie's blood. It covers my son's small unmoving chest. It spreads across the floor. The knees of my pants are soaked in it. I snatch up his much beloved body and hug him to my chest. I will protect him with my life.

"Charlie, honey. Daddy's here. Wake up." I stroke his head, love swells in my heart.

If I think everything is okay, it's okay. Positive thinking, yes, that's right. Charlie's okay. Daddy's here, everything's all right. I rock him a bit and try to bounce him awake. His blood coats my arms, my chest. I leave it behind on his face as I cup his cheek with my hand.

"Charlie?"

Blood is filling the room, I hold Charlie up, his cold cheek rests against mine, but the blood rises, I can't stand, I'm frozen on my knees. I push Charlie higher to keep his face above the raising tide of blood. My own face is slowly being covered in it; I gasp for a breath only to have the thick sticky red clogs my throat, my mouth.

It clings to my nostrils. I can't breath in.

Using every atom of air left in my lungs, I scream.

'CHARLIE!"

Sam

I was able to give Janet good news about the nanite population, only another 24 more hours to make totally certain. The last screen showed no contaminants at all. They should all be gone. Running the dialysis machine another 24 hours is just our insurance. We both agree that if the Colonel suffers another episode a mild sedative can be risked, just to take the edge off of his panic.

It's been nearly twelve hours since his first disastrous awakening. Surely the next time he will be more coherent?

I hope so.

His bloodwork shows a marked decrease in the debris created when the nanites expire. Just how many are still bonded to his brain is anyone's guess. Janet believes that just a few can make a real difference in how his brain functions, that he'll probably have problems until all of them expire and detach.

I've spent the last four hours sitting here trying to determine just how long before the Colonel will be completely free of their influence.

My answers are: much longer than I like to think about...

"CHARLIE!"

'Holy Hannah!'

"Colonel?!"

I nearly fall across him in my haste to reach him. He's awake, struggling against the restraints. He hadn't moved a muscle for all the time I've been sitting with him.

Now he's all motion.

"Charlie! Where's Charlie?" He's speaking, actually shouting, but it's understandable.

"Colonel, calm down."

I place both hands on his arm to gently still it; he jerks it violently away only to be brought up short by the straps.

"What... what's this." His eyes look down his body as he bucks and jerks at the restraints. "What the fuck is this?!"

"Please Colonel, calm down." I try patting his shoulder, he looks at me, and there is no recognition in his eyes. He begs.

"Where's Charlie, who are you? Shit, the blood." His sudden switch from begging to fear is alarming. He's rubbing his hands hard against the sheets, as if scraping something off.

"Sir, everything is okay, you need to calm down."

"Okay! Nothing's okay. Charlie!" He struggles harder. "What the hell have you done with Charlie? CHARLIE! Please God, where are you!"

The Colonel's shouts bring Janet armed with a syringe, Teal'c on her heels. Teal'c muscles me aside to hold the Colonel's arm motionless, as Janet tries to position the needle.

"Hey, what are you doing. Fuck, leave me alone. CHARLIE! Charlie!" He struggles harder as Janet finds the vein she needs. At the sight of the needle, the Colonel's switches back to begging before shifting into fear on his last word.

"Please no, no drugs. Please I just want Charlie. No! Drugs! CHARLIE!" Plunging in the needle she depresses the plunger and injects the Colonel with a mild sedative.

"OWW, shit, what did you do that for? Who are you people?"

Janet and Teal'c release him and back away. The Colonel's fear of only a moment ago is now indignation at his treatment.

"DrFrasier. O'Neill does not know us."

"Yes, I hear that, it's probably temporary." Janet is mopping the sweat from her reddened face.

"Hello, O'Neill right here in the room. You know me but I don't know you. What have you done with Charlie?"

Yet another mood change, he's almost joking.

"We have done nothing to Charlie," Teal'c assures the confused man. He reaches out to rest a hand on the Colonel's shoulder.

"Please, is Charlie okay? Please tell me?" The Colonel whiningly begs.

"Charlie is the same as he was last week, nothing has changed." I gasp at Teal'c's words, this man cannot lie. It's not in him.

Teal'c has just told a very creative truth. Even Janet's face shows a glimmer of shock at his words; she quickly shuts down her emotions. The Colonel is not a stupid man and very astute at reading people, he can spot a liar faster than anyone I know.

I pray the sedative takes hold soon.

"I tried to keep the blood from him. Are you sure he's all right?" The Colonel's voice is child like, pleading for reassurance.

"I have told you the truth, do not fear." Teal'c begins to stroke the Colonel's arm, trying to give him that reassurance physically.

"He's not okay, that's why you have me strapped down. I hurt him. God I hurt him. So much blood."

Disbelief and horror echo through his words, causing us to feel the same emotions upon hearing them.

The Colonel's no longer shouting his struggles are weaker as he dissolves into soft sobs, tears glistening in his eyes. So much guilt and despair showing on his face, more emotion than I've ever seen him express. I'm uncomfortable just witnessing it, even knowing that it's not really him, just the fouled up chemical processes of a compromised brain.

"No, you are a good father, you are incapable of hurting your son." Teal'c admonishes the confused Colonel.

"No, I don't believe you. CHARLIE! Please. Charlie!"

Tears are running down his face, his sobs are soft utterings of his son's name. Teal'c is clearing confused as to how he can comfort the Colonel, awkwardly squeezing his shoulder.

We stand around in a kind of shock at the Colonel's outburst, so much pain. We knew about his son, but no one really understood that the Colonel blamed himself so deeply for what had happened, actually accusing himself of having an active role in harming his son. Bad enough to believe he had been careless, something never proven according to Daniel. Something I would never believe after knowing him for two years, the man is just too meticulous to forget to secure a weapon, even momentarily. That kind of discipline can't be instilled in just the time since Charlie's death, it's a discipline developed over a lifetime, his lifetime in the Air Force.

Always secure your weapon.

I think about how he will react when he realizes how he has exposed his deepest, darkest thoughts to all of us.

Will he be able to look any of us in face without seeing pity or disgust, according to his mood? Will he be able to work with us knowing what we all now know? Will he throw it all away again and retire. He is a strong man, but this seems to be something that he cannot surmount.

He is too intertwined in our lives, SG-1's lives, the SGC, to allow him to leave because of his feelings of guilt over his son's death. He nearly blew up a world last time, only Daniel diverted him. Now SG-1 will have to divert him, or die trying.

He is the glue that binds us together, no glue, no SG-1. No SG-1, probably no SGC and with no SGC, no Earth and with no Earth, no reason for life as we know it.

The Goa'uld win and that's just NOT an option.

Somehow, the Colonel must survive this.

For us all.

Daniel

Janet has kept Jack sedated for the last 48 hours, 24 hours ago he was disconnected from the dialysis machine.

His bloodwork barely showing any of the telltale chemicals that herald the demise of more detaching dead nanites. She is optimistic, but cautious, her reason for the sedation, keeping him calm, preventing damage from his physical struggles or soaring blood pressure, racing heartbeats or shouted out confessions of killing his son or anyone else for that matter.

Sam and I have discussed what had occurred when Jack woke up the second time and her fears of his possible inability to remain here now that his soul has been bared to our view. I agree he will find it difficult to remain.

My hand gently glides over the rough graze encircling Jack's now free wrist, gone are the restraints, not needed now that he is under the hated drugs. The damage he inflicted in his fight to break free of them is extensive, not dangerous, just very very visible. Wide bands of bruising cross his hips and chest, even his inner upper arms sport bruises from the chest strap. He's lost skin on both wrists and one ankle; he even broke a toe. Also, there is the intentional wound high on his chest for access of the dialysis machine.

Janet says he pulled quite a few muscles too. He'll be in physical pain.

That's good.

Well, not really, but he takes solace in physical pain to help mask out his emotional pain. It's his little crutch, if having it helps, that's okay with me. I'm just glad that Janet was able to prevent McKenzie from sticking his nose in this mess. That would be the last thing Jack needs. She was able to convince McKenzie that all of the outbursts were physically based, Sam backed her up and the General put his personal stamp on it. It certainly takes a lot to convince the man of the bald truth, it's a wonder I ever convinced him that I was under an alien influence when he had me locked up.

No, I should be fair; he did do as I asked.

My eyes wander over my friend. Why can't the man get a break? He gives everything he has to do the right thing every time. Yet when he relaxes just a little bit he gets hit by the most unfair of circumstances. He really does pay for any little bit of happiness he can grab for himself.

I catch a twitching rise of one leg.

'Maybe he's going to finally wake up.'

"Jack... Jack are you here?"

I slip my hand under his, his fingers begin to flex and just like a baby, he instinctively fastens unto my hand. I squeeze gently.

"Jack are you awake yet?"

I smile at the little petulant pursing of one side of his mouth; he's probably seen his son do that on school mornings. I feel sad that he lost such a miracle.

His eyelids begin to flutter softly, more reflections of his loss. I still feel surprise at how vulnerable and childlike my warrior friend can appear when ill or injured, that knowledge is precious to me, but the method by which I came by it I would readily forego. The fact that I know he'll left his knees a few more times and then bring his right hand to his face to cover his eyes before awakening is just too personal for anyone to know.

There, what did I say, there goes his hand.

"Jack..." I softly begin.

"Uh, uhh..."

"Here, let me get you some water." I already have the special cup and straw ready, I gently pry his hand from his face to curl it around the cup. His eyes are shut, I don't even know if he's opened them yet. I do the job of holding the cup, his hand around mine to give him the illusion that he doing the work. I guide the straw to bump against his lips, they part eagerly and he greedily begins sucking, a few strong pulls and I pull it back.

He groans a bit.

"Too fast, Jack. Slower. Okay?" I bump the straw against his lips again.

"Hmm"

I let his lips fasten back onto the straw. He sucks slower. He's still groggy from the sedative, that's why I'm getting no words out of him yet and why he so docile. He's usually pissed as hell waking up in the Infirmary; he sees it as some kind of personal failure to be here. When upset he's very vocal.

He pushes out with his hand, he's done. He makes some huffs, blows and coughs to clear his throat.

"You okay there Jack?"

Cough. Cough "Yeah." Cough "Kinda."

Now his eyes open, revealing them in that rare glorious glowing amber, only seen when he's being most open or caught unawares. I smile at him and he shyly smiles back looking confused.

"Huh, Daniel...Why am I here." Holding up a wrist, he studies it, before looking at me again. "And, how did his happen?" He slowly jerks his head towards the still upright arm.

"Well, it's a long story."

"How long?"

"Almost a week."

"What... Is..."

I speak quickly to quell his sudden panic.

"Everyone is okay, well... except for you. You don't remember anything?"

Lowering his arm tiredly to his side, he closes his eyes to think.

"P3R-336... big lawn... big pool... surfboards... I... I..."

"Yes, you..."

"I felt great and I paid for it didn't I?"

Darn, I had hoped that he wouldn't think that.

Guilt about what happened to him.

"I wouldn't say that. You're alive and in one piece."

"Barely. There were butterflies, really big ones."

His words are brighter, his memories are returning. Anything to distract him from his own accusations.

"We wondered about that, just how you encountered them. They stung you."

"They... stung me. Shit. I let them crawl all over me, I didn't feel anything."

His voice is disbelieving, he eyes close again, he's already starting to fade.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Scaring Teal'c."

He slowly raises a hand to scrub at his face, his words weary.

"The first time or the second time."

"The second time?"

His hand slips from his face, revealing dark penetrating eyes demanding answers.

"Then you just remember the first time, being zapped by the lawnboard mount."

"Yeah, that's right."

Impatience creeps into his rapidly roughening words.

I dominate the conversation, sketching out for him the sequence of events leading to his present awakening. I could see him struggling to focus, but he doggingly hangs in there insisting on knowing everything. So I fudge a little, actually a lot, he would get the whole story later, in person and in reports, knowing everything now isn't important.

His somewhat upbeat frame of mind erodes during my story, what I was going to say next would put him into a downward spiral.

"Jack, that planet, it was a graveyard."

"Yeah, a dead world, no life there. You now know what used to happen there, don't you?"

He's so tried that he missed my meaning. The man has a steel trap for a mind. I need to end this conversation.

"It was a graveyard, literally. A place to bury their dead, a cemetery. The boards were headstones."

Jack looks stunned; sadness slowly spreads across his face. If he were well, I would never have been privy to this very visible show of emotion. Bleakness shines from his shocked eyes, I hadn't expected this reaction. Was it the drugs or a side effect of his near poisoning?

"It was a cemetery?"

"Yes," I confirm softly, I grip his forearm in my distress. "I'm sorry."

"I liked the place, I thought it must have been a park. A place to visit, to enjoy, to have fun. Where families got together. Death was everywhere and I felt alive there, what does that say about me?" I watch the bright amber fade to black in his eyes.

"It says that you have a soul that appreciates beauty when you see it, even when it's only wrought for the dead's enjoyment. That you celebrated the life that was there by expressing your joy. You didn't know that it was a place only for the dead. In no way can this fact change the good you saw into something less, you are a gentle soul Jack, you can't always hide it."

His eyes slowly close, he relaxes into the pillows at his back, he was disconnecting. It is too much too soon. He will block it out, deny its existence.

Stroking my distressed friend, I speak mundane reassurances, lulling him to a hopefully healing sleep.

Jack

My team has stayed away.

For once.

I thought that I would never survive the humiliation I felt before I could escape the Infirmary to run and hide my shame from their eyes. I fled home and locked the door behind me; I shut the house tight. No light entered to illuminate my sorry soul. I plunked down an unopened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and sat down on the couch clutching an empty glass tumbler.

I could already feel the slow smoky burn slide down my throat.

Daniel let himself in three days later, I still sat there, bottle unopened, the glass in shards below the mantel. For three days, I mulled over all that I had discovered about P3R-336 and what it had done to me. I knew that Daniel was here to rehash what I had just reviewed.

I was not looking forward to it.

Sometime later, I woke up stretched out on the couch, covered with a blanket. Daniel was asleep in the armchair. I peered at my wristwatch; he arrived over 30 hours ago. I seemed to have lost a little time. Even if I slept for about eight to ten hours, that left a big chuck of time.

Did we talk that long?

I swallowed a few times, yep, my throat hurt. We must have talked for that long. Daniel didn't act surprised to find me the way he had, but I did surprise him with the fact that I allowed him to talk about my guilt and hiding my emotions. About why I felt that I couldn't enjoy anything. I know that we talked for a long, long time. It was an agonizing blur of painful words. I think I passed out or something. Glancing at the coffee table, I saw the bottle was still unopened.

Why did I pass out?

"How do you feel."

I hadn't even noticed him stirring. I don't miss things like that.

"Uh... confused. Did I pass out?"

"No, I convinced you to take one of Janet's little pills," checking his own watch he continued, "Oh... about 18 hours ago. Guess they're strong."

"No, they're not. I probably needed the sleep. I'm still a little groggy."

"Some food would help that..."

At Daniel's words, I start to get up.

"No, you stay there, I'll take care of it."

I relax back into the couch.

I listened to him banging around in my kitchen, a kitchen that he knew just as well as I did -- he was here often enough, nursemaiding this old soldier. Just when did I start referring to myself at 'old?'

I don't feel old, just beaten up a bit.

I know that Daniel and I covered a lot of emotional ground before I took my little nap. I really don't want to even think about it just now. I'll have to, but I need to eat first and it's about time that I see to some of the garbage in my upstairs attic.

If I had done that sooner I might have been able to save Frank, or at least clear the air with him. I know that I didn't kill him, but he was there because of me, if I had spoken to him sometime in those seven years, maybe, just maybe he would be alive right now.

That's a hard thing to live with, I know, I've been living with it for almost two months now.

I must have dozed off.

"Jack, wake up. Coffee."

I stretched before reaching out for the mug just to have it snatched from me, Daniel's grabs my arm and starts hauling me up to sit upright.

'He can get so aggressive when he goes into hausfrau mood. Jeez.'

"You want hot coffee all over that's the way to do it."

"Yes, mother." I playfully slap his hands off me and smile. I do feel better. He sees and smiles in return. I sip at the coffee. I catch sight of the plate of food.

"Hmmm... fat?"

"Yes, don't tell Janet and don't you dare have a heart attack either, that's the same as telling."

I actually laugh at that and he joins in. The meal is good, I was hungry, and Daniel seems pleased to see me eat.

He no doubt expected me to push my food around the plate and pretend to eat. That only happens when I'm really sick, not just... well, confused.

"Daniel... I need to talk."

"Good. With the lights on?"

"Uh... well..."

"How about I just pull the drapes?"

"Yeah, that would do."

'Just when did he figure out that I can't do this in the bright light of day?'

We talk through the morning, past lunch, only to break for a late lunch. We talk some more and actually wind up outside in the bright sun discussing the fact that I shouldn't be embarrassed that everyone knows that I blame myself for Charlie's death.

Daniel says that it's a common feeling for parents to feel after the loss of a child. That's when I ask since when was he a shrink.

He tells me ever since he's read every book he could find on the subject.

I think the shocked look on my face worried him a bit until I explained that no one had ever gone to that kind of trouble for me. He turned a bright shade of red telling me I was worth it and then I turned a bright shade of red telling him that he was a good friend.

We did a good job of one-upping and embarrassing ourselves for a while there.

I was right though. He is a good friend, how many people would go to the trouble to find out what someone who suffered a tragedy must be feeling and try to place themselves into those feelings. I know that I couldn't do that, which always bring me back to why he would want me as a friend. Full circle to my feelings of inadequacy, that Daniel accuses me of having.

I'm adequate, but I could be better.

I let him leave reluctantly, promising to call if I feel the need.

He's the best shrink I've ever had, If I had had one like him early in my military career I might not be as 'confused' as I am now. I'm less 'confused' than I was three days ago or even two months ago, I'm probably less confused now than at any time since Charlie's death.

Just thinking about Charlie the pain lances through me, but it doesn't cripple me as badly as it used to, maybe Daniel's right, maybe someday I'll be able to think about it and only feel sad and deprived, without the crippling, blinding pain I've known for so long.

I don't know.

Time will tell.

Jack

I've had a long talk with everyone and I'm exhausted.

Daniel insisted that I would feel better if I did this and he's right. I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet right now, but the crushing weight is gone. The feeling that I'm standing in a hole trying to see out is gone; it was easier than I thought it would be. I nearly ran before each conversation, but I bucked up and did it.

General Hammond was his usually understanding self, actually more so, he was the hardest.

I respect him; he gives me fatherly advice, and that's something I've never had before. I'm grateful for his understanding and support. I talked to him about how I felt and what I wanted to do about it and he said 'yes'.

It still surprised me, 'yes', just like that.

Maybe he argues with me to keep me on my toes?

Janet was easy and I talked to her at her home, before I returned to the Mountain. I thanked her and asked when she would reinstate me for active duty. She told me right after a physical, which in her opinion was just a formality.

Another surprise.

Don't I hate surprises? Maybe I should review that policy?

Of course Daniel was a foregone conclusion and he already knew what I wanted to do.

I needed to talk to Carter.

Carter would be difficult, Daniel told me that... well... before I regained control, my out of control actions brought up some ugly memories of her Mother's death.

I felt bad about that and he reminded me that I shouldn't feel that way, I had no control and I didn't act that way because I wanted to. Well, he's right, but I still feel bad about Carter feeling bad and I talked to her about that.

She seemed a little horrified that I knew all about it, which horrified me a little bit too. We soon found ourselves laughing about the whole thing, Daniel.

Only Daniel could create a problem where one really didn't exist. I did find that she felt bad about not being there for me and I told he that it was okay with me I wouldn't want to remind her of that tragedy even by accident. Besides, she saved my life, she was there for me in a big BIG way.

Also, that I just wished that I could have enjoyed the sensation of having a beautiful woman run her hands through my hair.

She turned a really cool shade of red.

Telling Carter about what I wanted to do would be the hardest on her, she possesses that piece of technology I need. I told her just what I wanted to do and surprise again. It didn't bother her, she was all for it. Anyway, she couldn't figure out how to open it up and she has this thing about the NID or Area 51 getting any technology via the gate.

So, do I.

The biggest surprise was Teal'c, that man is a bundle of surprises. He actually anticipated my request, and had prepared for it. We both had tears floating in our eyes, mine I can understand, I'm... confused. Teal'c, he's a rock, but right then, a marshmallow.

Got to love the guy.

So, here I stand geared up before the gate to face P3R-336.

I feel a little nervous. Ferretti and SG-2 are coming along for the ride, the General says that Ferretti insisted.

That's okay with me.

Teal'c stands behind me with the newly repaired 'lawnboard' leaning against him.

SG-2 has the socket tied to a FRED along with a large flat box I had delivered.

That's my surprise.

Carter and Daniel are here too, I see Janet standing with the General in the Control Room above. She registered a late minute complaint about my broken toe, she didn't like the idea of me walking nearly five miles on it, so I let her wrap it for me, she even laced up my boot.

Which is the first thing I'm going to redo on the other side of the Gate, it's too damn tight.

The Gate locks and we get the 'go' from the General and after a momentary disorientation, I'm alone on P3R-336. Twenty seconds later the rest start arriving, Teal'c, after securing the lawnboard to the FRED, glues himself to my side.

I think I scared him when I collapsed here.

I don't remember any of it, but I see something of it in his eyes, I'm glad I don't remember it.

We leisurely begin our hike to replace the lawnboard and socket in their original location, I had told the General that I didn't feel right desecrating a burial ground, even on a world that tried to snuff me out. He said 'yes,' and as before that was a surprise; he will have to falsify records in order for me to do this. I would be returning a piece of alien technology. Carter says that we could return for it in about 100 years and maybe be able to open up the casing, but she doubts that even then we could understand how it works.

The 'socket' would not be a loss to Earth, but maybe returning it will be a gain to our future relationship with the Ancients. That could be the General's reason, I don't feel that my sensibilities are reasoning enough for his okay of my plan.

Daniel would have lots to say about my dismissing my worth.

He talked a lot about my importance, to SG-1, the SGC, Earth and her allies.

I don't know how to take what he tells me; he makes me out to be some kind of hero.

I've done some things that could be kinda heroic...

Hey! I have an ego, just not that big of one.

He called me the glue of SG-1, I can kinda see that, I'm nothing without them. I just can't see them being nothing without me.

Hell, Ferretti or Makepeace are just as good; they could be that glue too.

Our walk is enjoyable, a little slow, the toe you know. I do limp, but it's not that bad. Even Teal'c tried to get me to ride on the FRED, jeez let the guy get misty eyed with ya just once and he thinks you're make of glass from then on.

I did get a little nervous when we spotted some butterflies, but they didn't come very close. Carter released her captive one then; it sadly limped after the colorful troop. I'm glad it survived, I don't blame it, and it was just doing what it was created for.

Even at our deliberate slow pace we did arrive at the hole SG-2 had left after removing the 'socket.' Our stroll took less than two hours.

Ferretti insists that I supervise, from afar.

He and SG-2 take the time to replace the socket properly, he shows me in his actions he believes in what I'm doing, I feel humbled by his and his men's support. Teal'c replaces the board in the socket. Daniel wants to help me down to the ground to activate the device. He backs off at my glare but not far, it is a little awkward getting down.

Who would think just a little toe could be such a problem?

I start to reach out with my finger to the depression...

"O'Neill, is that wise?"

Teal'c's clear baritone ends my motion towards the switch.

"I don't know. Hey, Carter, can I touch this thing without getting zapped?" I twist around to get her in my field of vision and wiggle the fingers on the hand I'm about to use so she can see them.

"Yes, sir, just don't touch the metal strip."

I smirk up at Teal'c and poke gingerly, swiftly, briefly even, at the correct depression. Snatching it back I covertly examine it for any injury and then lurch upright only to have Teal'c assist. His action brought back that day of sailing when he helped me up after my plunge off the dock, reminding me that I was instrumental in my own rescue by insisting that Teal'c learn as much as I could cram at him about Earth.

Our eyes lock.

"Thank you." I expose my feelings for him in my eyes, I hope he can see my respect and love for him there.

He doesn't answer me, just nods in that special way he has, and with that, I know I succeeded in passing my message to him.

"Lunch."

Someone shouts out behind us, we turn to join the others.

We all sit on the grass with a fine view of the 'pool' and eat. Someone went out of their way to prepare this spread. Fried chicken, potato salad, lots of cut up fresh vegetables and fruits, bottled water and specialty soft drinks and bottled teas. I make a joke about backpacking food like this on missions which gets a laugh, I am told that the cooks at the Commissary heard about us going back to P3R-336 for the afternoon and took it upon themselves to prepare the food.

I will have to remember to thank them.

Near the end of the meal, the rumblings began about my mysterious box. I let them know that that would be the last thing to attend to before walking back. I shouldn't have said anything; they hurriedly eat, clean up and pack.

The next thing I know Teal'c is standing before me with the box, I turn and he follows me to the edge of the pool, everyone trailing behind him.

I turn and clear my throat as I remove my hat, this is not a dumb bunch, and they all remove their hats and gave me their attention.

"We, in our zeal for knowledge, inadvertently desecrated a sacred place, not to us, but to a benevolent race we already have a respect for even before having contact with them. I am proud that we were able to repair most of the damage and prey that our good wishes will repair the rest. A moment of silence if you please."

I am proud to see them all bow their heads to honor the dead of a great race.

I join them in homage freely given.

"Thank you, I have one more thing to do before we leave, attention!"

That got their... ah... attention. I step up to Teal'c and remove a floral wreath from the box and in my best parade ground style I march to the edge of the pool and carefully kneel to place the wreath on the water, standing I salute, knowing that everyone behind me does the same. I observe another moment of silence, about face and...

"Dismissed."

I have to deal with a lot of admiration at my wreath idea on the way back to the gate. I find it a little embarrassing, just telling them that it felt right.

We're returning on the other side of the 'pool' completely walking around it. That felt right too. Even with less to carry the second leg of our journey takes almost as long as the first, too much food probably.

I'm not admitting to the toe pain at all.

I watch everyone return through the Stargate, only Teal'c and I remain, I had prearranged this with the General before going, he could find no reason to deny me this little indulgence. Anyway it's more for Teal'c than me.

Turning my head I look at the man in question who raises a remarkably vocal eyebrow, but speaks anyway.

"Contemplation."

"Got it in one Buddy."

I clap my Warrior Brother on the shoulder and focus my attention on the beauty around us.

With the Stargate at our backs we both look out over the pool and lose ourselves in the wondrous creation of an alien race. Over time, the landscape transforms as the shadows lengthen before the setting star to the west.

I eventually wind up sitting on the grass, I plan on staying until full night, I want to see the stars, no Earth human has seen the stars from here and I wanted to be the first. The long shadows are soon lost in the gloom of pre-night.

Teal'c points out drifting lights in the distance. 'Butterflies' or 'fireflies?' The dancing lights are just like watching satellites, only visible for a short time before full dark.

However, this world never sees full dark; the sky is draped with the most sublime gas nebula I have ever seen, in person or photograph. Surely the Ancients couldn't have planned this could they; this type of nebula doesn't exist long. It's long to us but the age of the buildings on this planet says that this sight would not have existed when they were built.

Did the Ancients have some way to predict it, or even create it?

We'll never know until we find them.

I find I have a renewed desire to see one of their main worlds. Just to experience the creations of such a great race, to know who and what they are would feel good.

Right now though, I'll settle for this view.

Stumbling upright, I stand shoulder to shoulder with Teal'c. Neither of us needs to crane our necks upward, the view is just as good straight ahead where the black water of the pool below us reflects the glowing stellar dust.

The very air aglow in reds, pinks, blues and violets of the excited particles light-seconds above us.

"Beautiful." My awe at the sight can be heard in my hushed words, I feel like I'm in church.

"Truly." Teal'c's single word more expressive than any dozen, but he continues, "Are you 'fine' O'Neill?"

"I'm better than 'fine' right now, I've started a new trend of being 'better than fine.' "

I believe it, really believe it and so does Teal'c.

"Than I am, again, content." His conviction is comforting.

"Good for you Buddy. Good for you."

THE END

BetaTested by CiGiK - Cape Town - South Africa - 27th April 2004