PART EIGHT "Reflections"
�You�re talking about removing Kinsey as President,� Karen concluded softly.
Jack looked up, startled by her blunt statement.
She smirked in his direction and sighed. �Political Science, though I never thought it would lead me in this direction.�
�Neither did I, Lieutenant Colonel,� Hammond interjected, taking in the stunned room with a troubled smile. �People, I�ve thought long and hard about this for nearly three months. I have been in direct communication with the Vice President for the last two weeks as the situation on P2Z-421 continued to deteriorate��
�The phone calls you mentioned, Sir?� Jack guessed, his thoughts drifting back to the enlightening if incomplete conversation they had shared in the General�s office.
�Yes. I spoke to Secretaries Atkins and Thayer on the phone yesterday afternoon��
�Isn�t Thomas Thayer Secretary of Homeland Security?� Daniel interrupted, hissing between his clenched teeth, as he straightened in his chair.
�Doctor Jackson?� The General nodded at the younger man�s obvious discomfort.
�I�m fine.�
Jack recognized the lie as clearly as the General. He empathized with Daniel in more ways than one. The implications of invoking the 25th amendment were exhausting to contemplate, even under the best of physical circumstances. Add the ramifications to all of their careers, hell their lives, and it was no wonder Daniel looked ready to slide under the table.
Clearly not convinced by the archeologist�s reply, Hammond pushed forward with a frown resting on his round features. �Thomas Thayer is the Secretary for Homeland Security. A department that has been against the SGC since its inception.�
�Secretary Thayer�s aversion to this program was the prime reason Kinsey appointed him�� Sam mumbled beneath her breath.
�Major?�
�Sorry, Sir,� she grimaced. Embarrassed, but unrepentant.
�I share your sentiments to be honest. We cannot count on Secretary Thayer�s support in this matter.�
Big surprise, Jack bit back the words. Useless comments had no place in the conversation. The fact that voicing them would ease the tension that currently stiffened his neck was immaterial. He cleared his throat, �What about Secretary Atkins?�
�The Secretary of Defense has never been a big supporter of the SGC, probably because we have always operated under our own mandates and taken our orders directly from the President. Effectively bypassing several rungs in the Chain of Command. �
�But the Secretary has always been aware and informed about SGC operations?� Karen questioned.
�Of course. This program could not be run within the confines of the US Air Force or receive funding without his knowledge, and in many cases approval. Still, the SGC has been known as a bit of a free agent for a long time now. The Summit last year expanded the circle of knowledge of the program. We gained a few enemies within the cabinet, hopefully more than a few allies.�
�Sir, do you think things will really progress that far?� Sam�s large blue eyes drifted from the General to Jack.
What do you know and when did you know it, she queried silently.
He shook his head and indicated Hammond with a subtle shift of his eyes. She nodded, temporarily satisfied as she shifted her attention back to their CO.
�I hope not, Major,� Hammond answered cryptically. �The Vice President has sent out some feelers over the last twenty-four hours. What happened on P2Z-421 has caused a bit of a stir among the Joint Chiefs and the pressure is on.� He sighed, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he considered the expectant room.
Jack fidgeted in his chair. Physically he needed to move. To pace through the turbulent thoughts that Hammond�s words had raised and to ease the dull throbbing pains in his back and legs. He kept his seat with reluctance, movement would only further disturb the already choking atmosphere of the room. Something to be avoided at all costs.
Emotionally, he felt shredded and scattered to the winds. Kinsey needed to pay for Sergeant Gray�s death and for endangering the lives of billions of people. Paranoia, greed, and a thirst for personal revenge against Hammond and himself for besting him more than once on even ground. These were the motivators for the President�s actions. Not his oft voiced, high minded desire to close the mythical Pandora�s Box and bottle up the demons therein. Kinsey was not, and never had been, as complex as he claimed, Jack mused in silent disgust. His teeth clenched and grated in his ear as he forced himself to relax into the padded chair. What would be the cost to all of them if they failed? What cost to Jonas if they didn�t try? Would the Kelownan unwillingly give up the SGC? His knowledge of the program was limited compared to the people now seated around the table, but his potential as a new host for Osiris was vast and terrifying to consider.
Hammond cleared his throat, drawing Jack�s thoughts mercifully outward. He surreptitiously studied the General from beneath half closed eyelids. A fresh sheen of sweat glinted off the older man�s bald head, and his blue eyes had grown dark with the conflicted emotions that lingered there. �President Kinsey, through threat and coercion has forced the SGC to go against its� mandates. As commander of this facility I have disregarded my own principles, thinking, hoping I was acting for the greater good of this planet.� His tongue clicked and he shook his head. �I was wrong. I refuse to let personal concerns cloud my decision making process any further, and I must apologize to the members of SG-1 and you Lieutenant Colonel Griffin, as Commander of SG-10, for my shortsightedness.�
Jack felt his jaw drop and he closed it with a snap. From across the table he heard Sam gasp, saving him from further embarrassment, as her words tumbled out.
�Sir, it wasn�t your fault, not any of it. P2Z-421 was just another planet. You had no way of knowing that Osiris had taken up residence or that he would be successful in kidnapping Colonel O�Neill.� A flash of fear skittered across her pale features and vanished as she swallowed hard. �The Pellans are a secretive people��
The General cut her off with a wave of his stubby hand. �Major, you know as well as I do that as Commander of this facility it is my responsibility to make the best decision possible, given the information at hand.� The sigh that followed his words seemed to come from his very soul. �Strictly speaking, I should not have risked the man power and resources of this command on a rescue attempt for Colonel O�Neill, but I did because I could not do otherwise.�
�Thank you, Sir,� Jack whispered. The sheer weight of the General�s words pushed him deeper into the cushioned chair. Hammond had endangered the lives of SG-1 and 10, and spent thousands of dollars on military equipment not knowing if he were alive or dead. It was a debt Jack could never repay. The knowledge that Kinsey would have let him rot, happy as hell that he were finally gone, only made the whole operation more complicated. When the dust finally settled would Hammond be able to keep his Command?
�But General, you did and we�re all grateful for it,� Daniel pointed out softly. �The question is where do we go from here?�
�Agreed, General.� Karen sat up straighter, her sharp blue eyes catching and holding Jack�s gaze. �What�s done is done, we can only go forward.�
Teal�c stood up, his looming presence filling the air with an undeniable energy. �We must formulate a plan of action to rescue JonasQuinn and remove Osiris as a threat to your world, permanently.�
Jack pushed away from the desk and stretched his arms carefully towards the ceiling. Papers lay scattered across the cluttered workspace. Notes and diagrams on what he could remember about P2Z-421 and more specifically, the Tower Cell.
He had approached the project with an air of detachment, knowing he couldn�t let his mind get too close to the horrors that resided within the high stone walls. In large part he had been successful, distancing his spirit, banishing the fear to the netherworld of memories.
But not completely.
He would bet his life on the accuracy of the tunnel diagrams. As a soldier he had been trained to count his steps, memorize every detail, even when blindfolded. Subconsciously, he had absorbed the layout of the ancient fortress. When he walked the slime coated passageways again, every dip and jut would be familiar.
Lowering his hands Jack pawed through the papers, until he found the crude rendering of the cell itself. The depiction was correct in basic detail. He was however, extremely relieved that the supply room had been out of colored pencils. What hadn�t made it to the page in staid black and white filled his mind�s eye with blinding techno color as he stared at the drawing. The bright, errant square of sunlight tracing its way across the filthy floor, split by the shadow of the bars. The grate was an unnecessary obstacle given the height of the window and the slickness of the stones. The walls themselves, made up of uneven blocks of gray and sickly brown, coated with fuzzy mold. He remembered the taste of the water that ran through the yellow and green plants, acidic and gritty. The floor sticky with his own fluids, urine and blood draining in putrid rivulets towards the grate in the floor�Shivering Jack tossed the drawing on the table. The paper hovered for a moment, before delicately settling into place on top of the diagram.
It was easy, too incredibly easy, to slip back into the horror. Shaking off the persistent images, he ran a hand through his hair and stood up. Being back in his office, without an escort, was a pleasant and welcome sensation. He felt normal again, though the stabbing pain in his back and the hitch in his side constantly reminded him that a full recovery was still a ways off. Still, he was functioning as part of the team. The level of apathy he had experienced early that morning outside Sam�s apartment had lessened, gradually overshadowed by the steadfast devotion to duty that had carried him forward for so long.
I can do this.
It�s my job.
Maybe my last?
Jack scrubbed wearily at his face and walked out into the busy halls of the SGC. Retirement, when did I start considering that as an option? He pushed the up button on the elevator. When it arrived he sidled to the back of the car and leaned against the wall, folding his arms. Probably when I figured out that dying wasn�t my only choice, he mused. A wry grin tugged at his lips as the car slowed and the doors opened to admit a new passenger.
�Jack?"
�Daniel,� he affirmed with a gesture at the crutch the younger man was leaning on. �I�m surprised Janet let you leave her sight.�
Daniel ducked, grimacing as the car resumed its climb. �It wasn�t easy.�
�I�ll bet.� Jack folded his arms. �Hurt much?�
�Yeah, yeah it does.�
�Sorry to hear.�
�You?�
The elevator stopped and Jack disembarked, not surprised when Daniel fell into step at his heel. �Yeah, some,� he admitted cautiously.
Daniel chuckled softly. �I�m not spying for Janet, you don�t need to get uptight.�
�Uptight?� Jack subconsciously slowed his pace when the younger man fell slightly behind. �I�m not,� he denied quietly. As they entered the commissary, he heard a derisive snort and knew Daniel wasn�t buying. �Okay, a little��
Drawing coffee from the closest urn, he snagged a tray and began pushing it down the runners. The choices were not appealing, despite the tantalizing aromas. Jack grabbed a plate of chicken with a side of green beans and mashed potatoes, and headed for his preferred corner table. Pleased and mildly annoyed when Daniel followed moments later.
�Join you?�
�Yeah, have a seat.�
The murmur of voices and the jarring clank of dishes filled the space between them. Jack chewed his food mechanically, not really tasting it.
What do you want Daniel? What can I say to you? What did Kinsey say to keep you quiet�?
�Jack��
�Daniel��
Jack grinned, dropping his fork into his potatoes. �Been a while since that happened,� he reflected.
�Yeah, it has.� The archeologist slowly stirred his pudding, his eyes riveted to the gleam of the overhead lights off of Jack�s discarded knife. �How are you doing Jack, really?�
He shuddered as the sound of the other shoe dropping reverberated across his bare nerves. �I�m okay.� It was the best he could offer and he hoped that it would be enough.
Wishful thinking.
�You don�t look okay,� Daniel denied in a low worried tone. �I�m sorry I wasn�t able to come and see you more often, but you know what happened there��
�I don�t need a nursemaid, Daniel. Janet and her med staff handled that just fine��
�How about a friend?�
He shrugged, the old barriers coming down. Trapping his emotions as effectively as the stone walls of the cell had imprisoned his body. �Whatever��
�I�m handling this badly�� Daniel mumbled as he took a bite of pudding. �I just wanted you to know��
�I get it, Daniel.� Jack picked up his fork and scooped up a mound of potatoes, cutting off further conversation by engulfing them in a wide, sloppy bite.
�That�s attractive.�
The potatoes exited in an explosive exhalation that coated both Daniel and the table. The younger man laughed aloud and wiped the gooey mess from his glasses as Jack spun around in his chair, his mouth agape. �For Christ sakes, Carter!�
She grinned innocently and set her tray down on the table. �Sir?�
Jack swallowed the urge to further vent his frustrations and handed Daniel a napkin. �So much for dinner,� he remarked sullenly as Sam seated herself to his left.
Her warm thigh brushed against his and he was instantly grateful for the concealing table. There was no denying his body�s reaction to her presence. Pleasant tingles coursed up his leg and across his groin as she shifted against him, reaching for the salt and pepper.
�Jack?�
�Huh?� A warm flush had risen in his cheeks. He looked up to find Daniel had risen and was standing to one side holding his tray.
�You want anything else while I�m up?�
�No thanks, Daniel.�
�You sure, how about some Jell-O?� He teased beneath his breath.
Jack�s eyebrows shot towards his hairline as the younger man drifted off chuckling softly.
�Nice,� Sam muttered as she took a bite of salad.
Feeling exposed Jack slouched in his chair, playing idly with the remains of his dinner. �Caught me off guard��
�I know the feeling��
What is that supposed to mean? He clamped his teeth on the question and sipped his coffee. �What do you think of Hammond�s plan?�
�I hope it works.�
�That�s it?�
�What else do you want me to say?� She chewed on her salad, her dark, blue eyes unreadable. �We�re all in trouble if it doesn�t��
Jack glanced over his shoulder. An eager young lieutenant he recognized from the last batch of recruits was currently accosting Daniel. The archeologist glanced their way and shrugged. Jack nodded, and turned back to Sam. Her gaze had shifted to the tall glass of blue jell-O on her tray. She poked it with her spoon, seemingly mesmerized by the shimmer as it jiggled.
�Hey,� he whispered.
She started, �What?�
�It�s okay to be scared by all this crap.�
�Are you?� she asked just as quietly.
�I�m too damn old and tired to be scared.�
�I think that scares me more than anything Kinsey could possibly do to us.�
The Tok�ra!
Jack growled an oath and tossed a wad of paper across his small office. It rebounded off the far wall and landed atop a stack of unread personnel files.
Why did everything have to come back to the God Damn snakes!
He knew the reason even as the thought formed and dissipated in his troubled mind. The UAV had been launched after he returned from dinner. The Jaffa guards stationed near the Stargate on P2Z-421 had taken pot shots at the small aircraft and missed, fortunately. But their good luck had ended there. Hammond�s original plan of action had flown out the proverbial window as the small craft did an ever widening sweep of the area. The pictures received during the 38 minute window were disheartening to say the least. Osiris was waiting for them. He had rallied an army of Pellan soldiers. Armed with a variety of weapons, ranging from Zats and staffs, to Pain Sticks and ordinary clubs and swords. A smattering of Jaffa warriors was overseeing the development of earthworks and the deployment of crude cannons. Placed with small groups at strategic locations the armaments effectively cut off the access to the city and the walled fortress within. Even if an assault force could safely exit the Gate, they would never reach their objective.
�Son of a bitch,� Jack hissed softly between clenched teeth. He reached for the drawing of the cell and stared long and hard. �You aren�t going to win, I don�t give a damn what it costs me, you aren�t going to win,� he vowed harshly into the suffocating silence.
After reviewing the depressing footage for nearly an hour it was Daniel who suggested the Tok�ra. When Jack asked him why their allies hadn�t gotten him out of the soup in the first place, he was told that the Tok�ra were on the run, again. Out of contact until the day after he returned to the SGC. Probably would have snaked me again anyway, had been his sullen reply. Sam had dropped her eyes to the floor and bit her lip, adding another measure of self loathing to his already overloaded plate. Hammond pulled them all back on track. Jack was sure the nonverbal interplay between himself and Sam was not lost on their CO, but the General chose to ignore it. Pointing out that Osiris would not be prepared for a cloaked Scoutship landing on the planet. A small strike force could get into the city and hopefully rescue Jonas before the Goa�uld�s troops could mobilize. At least that was the theory. His drawings of the citadel and the recollections of Daniel, Teal�c and Karen would provide a safe route into and out of the heavily guarded area. With a little luck�
Jack shook his head. The paper crinkled between his clenching fingers and he forced himself to relax. A little luck� That was a joke. Nothing even remotely resembling good fortune had characterized their collective experiences on the Pellan Homeworld. Why should Jonas� rescue be any different? The thoughts were cynical and useless and he tried to force them back into the haze of his subconscious. Memories of the cell and the pointlessness of his captivity growled and gnashed, driving his fears back to the forefront with nauseating speed. Jumping to his feet, Jack paced the confines of the cramped office, ignoring the spasms that raced up his legs and across his stiff neck.
He hadn�t asked about the mission itself, at least not formerly. General Hammond knew that he intended to go, whether Fraiser cleared him or not. There was no choice really, hadn�t been since the moment Karen told him that Jonas was trapped on the planet. Jack stopped walking and turned towards the wall behind his desk. A flat case was mounted there, in between a pair of bookshelves. His medals and ribbons were neatly arranged within against a field of black velvet.
Duty�
Honor�
Responsibility�
These had been his motivators for more years than memory would allow. The Awards, evidence that he had succeeded in action even if he had often failed in soul. He stared unblinking at the innocuous display. What did it mean really? Am I the sum of these ribbons? Can a man really be measured by what hangs on his walls?
Sweat trickled down his back as Jack rhythmically clenched and unclenched his trembling fingers. Those three words were too simple of an explanation for the emotions that surged within him. There was more, had to be more, to his actions.
He spun away, his whole body shaking. What did they do to me? When did I begin to openly question who I am and what I�ve done?
It was dangerous ground for a soldier. A slippery slope that defied the principle of Chain of Command, the one thing he could always fall back on. Over time he had learned to divide responsibility for personal failings. It wasn�t easy, but it was necessary. He led by example, or tried to.
When the three Eurondans died against the Iris he told Carter, �It wasn�t your fault, move on.� When Hano put Teal�c through Cor Ai for the murder of his father, he told the Jaffa that the past wasn�t his fault. That he himself had been ordered to do some �Pretty damn distasteful things,� in the line of duty. Apophis was to blame, even if Teal�c had pulled the trigger. When he shot Reece and Daniel had murmured acidly �You stupid son of a bitch,� he simply accepted it. There was no option, only duty to humanity and responsibility for the lives in his charge. When he ordered Sam to betray Fifth and trap the Replicators in an endless moment she had been angry. Hurt that he appeared not to care. He chose not to explain, to simply absorb the sense of guilt and betrayal. They would never know if Fifth was harmless, he wouldn�t take the chance, couldn�t afford the luxury of what if. So he sucked up their frustrations and divided his pain between the overfull emotional bank account in his subconscious, and the desperate need to protect all of humanity against a brutal enemy. Always he looked forward and tried to lay at least a small measure of guilt on the necessary rigidity of the military.
Jack drew a shaky breath and walked back to his chair. Things were different now. They had made it so. He slouched into his seat and picked up the slightly wrinkled drawing.
Questions.
In the cell he knew the Pellans were asking him things by the tone of their gibberish and the tilt of their bony heads, as they shook their clawed fists. They sputtered and growled in fury as he strove to understand and respond; and hissed in a near state of ecstasy as he writhed and moaned beneath their sadistic ministrations. There was no middle ground. Clearly the aliens never intended anything but a slow painful execution for him.
Futility.
They had defeated him in a way Baal and First had not.
�Bastards,� he murmured acidly as he stared at the black and white drawing.
The Pellans had undone twenty five years of special forces training and experience with four miserable weeks. They wanted nothing from him but pain.
Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed the clammy flesh on his arms as he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Tremors raced the length of his body and he rode them out, biting his lip as the tide of suppressed emotions rolled over him. A single whispered word, sounding brittle and desolate in the empty room, fell from his dry mouth. �Bastards�� His voice was a rasp, weak and unnatural, as it repeated over and over. Gradually dying beneath the pounding of his galloping pulse. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his shaking knees. Pressing his palms against his throbbing eye sockets, he choked on the sobs that clogged his throat, fighting for release. �Oh God�� Tears stung acid hot against his eyelids and he tore a chunk from his lip, savoring the tang of blood. �Oh�God�� They had defeated him, tore his soul asunder and left him to waste away in a mire of his own filth.
Forgotten.
The past. He reminded himself grimly, as he gulped mouthfuls of air to steady his shattered nerves. Despite everything they did, I�m still here!
Jack sat back and wiped his eyes with one pale arm. The moisture from his tears glinted in the fine hairs that coated his skin. He grimaced, and ran one finger over his ragged lip. The repercussions of his experiences with Baal and First melded with the rippling memories surrounding his imprisonment on P2Z-421.
He had never faced the experiences head on. Never allowed himself to feel the incredible grief and rage both of the creatures had evoked. Instead he had run, as fast and hard as he could.
The Pellans had caught him, physically and emotionally. They allowed him no creature comforts, save for a single miserable scrap of cloth. In their infinite ignorance they had given him vast amounts of stifling time for company. He spent it, in varying degrees of coherency. Seething against the injustice of it all, escaping into vague fantasies that temporarily minimized his physical pain, and thinking�too much�
Now I have to go back.
A thrill of panic sang across his raw nerves at the sharp rap of knuckles on metal. He swallowed hard and rose to his feet, as the knock came a second time. Grateful for the forced interruption of his twisted thoughts, Jack reached for the door handle and turned.
�Karen?�
�You busy?�
He ran a self conscious hand over his eyes and shrugged. �Uh, no, not right now��
�Talk a minute?� Her normally flowing tones were clipped, anxious, as she indicated his office with a tilt of her chin.
�Yeah, sure you betcha.�
Karen stepped past him and walked directly to the spare chair in the corner. �Christ, I�m tired.�
Jack shut the door, vaguely uneasy as he crossed to his own chair and sat down with a grunt. �I know the feeling.�
�Are you ready for this?�
�Huh?�
�Going back to P2Z-421?�
He picked up a felt tip pen and slowly turned it between his fingers, studying the long black shaft as it gleamed dully in the overhead light. Karen shifted in her seat and the creak of the chair startled him. The pen popped from his grasp and skittered across the concrete floor, coming to rest by one of her booted feet. �No,� he admitted softly. �Shows, huh?� Karen�s eyes wandered across his face, drawing his gaze from the floor. He looked into the earnest blue depths, pleased and fearful at the softness he discovered.
�Yeah, it does,� she murmured. �I know the Pellans gave you a rough time, I wish I could have visited a bit more, but��
�Seems like you had your share of fun��
She smirked as she shifted the weight of her injured arm. �Is that what we used to call it out there in the desert�?�
�Yeah.�
�Guess we�ve got a whole new definition now.�
He nodded, dropping his eyes back to the drawings and diagrams. �Here�s what I have so far. I need to bring it over to Hammond�s office��
�Jack��
�Huh?� He looked up, avoiding her probing gaze in favor of the clutter that covered the file cabinet to her right.
�It was worse than Iraq, wasn�t it?� She swallowed audibly. �Worse than whatever you went through a year and a half ago�with Baal, was it?�
�Baal,� he affirmed in a strained whisper. �Karen, I��
She put up a hand, �I know, Jack O�Neill doesn�t talk.� She looked about the office with a small, sad smile. �There�s nothing of you in here.�
�What?�
�I see the military, that�s it.� Karen shook her head, her voice soft, mystified. �There is nothing of the Jack I know. The guy who laughs like hell at the Simpsons, the man who just about goes postal over the hockey finals, the man who loves to fish, but never catches a damn thing�� She paused and pinned him with her sharp blue eyes. �Where is he?�
�This is my work, my life is separate�� he fumbled. Wondering why he was explaining himself to someone who should know him better, and equally cognoscente of the fact that she did, and was just as scared as he was by the change.
�No,� she denied gently. �It�s more than that. You�re not happy here anymore.�
�Happy?� Jack chuckled cynically. �How can you�?�
�I�m right, aren�t I?� she challenged, cutting him off mid sentence.
She was, how she knew was irrelevant. Jack ran a hand through his sweaty hair, amazed how easily she read him. They hadn�t been intimate for 20 years, except for one drunken New Year�s Eve the year Charlie died. Still, she could read him like no one else ever had, including his gentle wife. �Why are you bringing this up now?� he asked tiredly.
�I�m scared for you, Jack.�
�Afraid I�ll fall apart on you?� he bit out.
�Never,� Karen replied firmly, ignoring his blossoming ire. �You aren�t yourself, and if you live through this I�m afraid of what will come out on the other side.�
So am I. The words slammed against his clamped teeth and he coughed reflexively.
�You�re going to insist on leading this mission, aren�t you?�
�I have to.�
�Why?�
�Because��
She waited, her eyes demanding an explanation. When he was not forthcoming, she clicked her teeth in evident disgust. �Jack O�Neill, master of the understatement.�
�At your service,� he quipped automatically.
She frowned. �Why?�
�It�s my fault.� The admission tumbled out and he was forced to suppress the absurd desire to slap his own mouth.
�Oh, come on!� Karen exclaimed. �We are too damn old to play the blame game.� His gaze did not waver from hers, and her mouth gaped in surprise. �You are serious, aren�t you?�
He shrugged, allowing his eyes to wander from her pale face to the crowded desk.
�For Christ sakes, Jack! How can you let the Pellans do this to you?�
�Not them,� he pointed out, his voice deadly calm. �Him.�
�Osiris?�
�Yes.� Jack heaved a troubled sigh and leaned back in his chair. His stomach was tying itself in chilly knots, forcing a cold sweat to bead his hairline and run down his temples. �I should have remembered��
�You honestly think it would have made a difference?� Her hand came down with a forceful slap on her knee. �Given what General Hammond said today and from what I have been able to find out about Kinsey�s past history with the SGC, you in particular� How can you sit there and think it would have made one wit of difference�?�
�You would have known what you were up against!� he railed. �Even if Kinsey was able to force Hammond into moving forward, your team and mine would have known who they were facing. Maybe they could have eliminated the threat once and for all!�
�And maybe things would have turned out just as they did,� she reminded him sharply. �Jack, you can�t take responsibility for all of this, it will tear you apart�It already is��
He shook his head, clenching his fingers together to control the shaking in his hands. Karen�s chair squeaked, and he heard the rustle of fabric as she rose and crossed the short space between chair and desk. She slipped one hip up on the edge of the cluttered space and touched his shoulder with her free hand. �Please��
Jack flinched at her touch, but the hand remained. Warm and comforting as he kept his gaze riveted on his folded hands. �I was sitting here thinking before you came in�thinking about what happened there and what happened with Baal�other things. I can�t believe where I�ve been and what I�ve done�and what it�s come down to.� He drew a shaky breath and felt her grip tighten, one finger moving in slow soothing circles. �I�m so tired��
The hand remained and the pressure increased as he leaned subconsciously towards it. Drawing strength from its� warmth as he struggled to tame the fresh, raw emotions her questions had stirred.
�I know.�
Continued in Part Nine Conversations
For more information on the 25th Amendment go to:
The Constitution of the United States of America
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