PART TWO
"The Journey"
Something cool touched his skin, pulling his consciousness forward into the light. His eyes moved beneath their tender lids as he tried to understand the nature of the moisture that bathed his face.
Rain?
It rained all the time here. Sunlight was a fleeting thing that teased him with a small splintered square of warmth. He huddled in that space, crawling across the floor and up the wall as it moved. Stretching his fingers high above his head until it slid beyond his reach as the sun set.
But rain did not prod gently at the scabs that trailed down the side of his lacerated cheek. It did not wipe the clammy sweat from his forehead or rest cool and comforting on his throbbing skull.
The storms here were violent. They lashed the stones and chased around the square sided structure howling their fury. The rain came in dousing sheets. Often saturating his emaciated body with needle fine drops that bruised the skin with their force. How could so much moisture pour through such a small opening? A question that teased him as he hovered over the small dirty square of cloth they had thrown him. Keeping it as dry as possible until the rain passed. Experience warned him that chill winds always followed in the wake of the storm. He would wrap the cloth tightly around his hunched shoulders and seek the driest corner of his prison. Breathing raggedly into his icy hands he would rock and grumble his frustration.
They had come once, as he struggled to warm his nearly frostbitten flesh. He heard the clank of their approach and smelled the rotted stench of their breath even before the grate was thrust aside. Two of them had grabbed him and shaken him until his teeth nearly rattled free. Then they had thrown him into a puddle against one wall and left the cell taking the blanket with them. If he had had the strength he would have screamed his fury, cried his frustration into the muck that coated the floor. But he could only shiver in agony.
Now he never spoke a word.
It wasn�t rain, reason asserted from the back of his muzzy brain.
�Jack?�
His eyes flew open in surprise. Bright light assaulted his senses, and he blinked as tears welled and ran in salty trails down his cheeks.
A woman was leaning over him holding a washcloth. She dabbed gently at his cheek and adjusted the dressings that covered a spot just above his left eye. To his right he heard a stool roll sideways across the floor. He shifted his gaze marginally, unwilling to consider the possibilities of this latest delusion.
Jack?
Who?
He is you. We are him.
Reason pushed forward, forcing back the sputtering, anxious demon and its loud, demanding voice. Do not listen this is only a game, a trick. They will come again! You know that! It�s only the rain.
No!
Jack shook his head. The motion filled the air around him with pinpricks of brilliant light. His head was leaden, consumed with a throbbing ache that made even his teeth hurt. He rolled stiffly onto his side and felt something soft shoved against his bruised back. Swallowing hard, he licked his dry lips and studied the person sitting quietly on the stool by his bedside.
The Id hissed resentfully. Offering him a last warning volley of fear that sent shivers along his aching limbs before it retreated behind his emerging self. Daniel, his tired mind supplied the name as he watched the pensive figure studying him beneath half closed eyelids.
�Jack, can you hear me?�
Yes, are you really here? Where is here? Daniel, help me please? The plea tumbled silently through his mind, seeking voice. He licked his lips a second time and chanced a hesitant nod.
A wan smile lit Daniel�s face. He reached behind him and produced a cup. �Water?�
Jack did not answer. He watched the straw move towards his lips, saw the inviting swirl of the clear liquid as it sloshed�
The rain ran in rivulets down the walls. He placed his mouth firmly against the cracks, tasting the fuzz and slime. Nearly retching as the precious fluid ran in and around his lips�
The plastic straw slid between his teeth and he sucked carefully. The water was cool and clean, tasting faintly of chlorine. He swallowed it greedily. A low moan of frustration crawled up his throat but died unvoiced as Daniel pulled the glass away.
�Janet warned us all. Not too much at one time.� He apologized with a slight shake of his head. �How do you feel? Are you okay?�
Silly, pointless, words. How do you think I feel Daniel?
What does it matter, he isn�t really here! The inner voice screamed out. It rose up blotting out the muted, gray walls that surrounded them with an orange, pulsing fire of warning. This can�t be real! They have done this to us countless times don�t trust THEM!
�Daniel?� he murmured hoarsely. Please, speak to me!
�I�m right here, Jack.�
The sound of Daniel�s voice, close and calming. The Id grated it�s rage and withdrew. Jack latched onto the reassuring tones. �Where?� he managed after a long moment spent battling his confusion.
�You�re home, remember? You�re safe.�
�No�can�t be��
�Jack, you�re safe. No one is going to hurt you anymore.� Daniel�s hand came to rest on his shoulder.
Jack flinched and trembled beneath his touch. The solid pressure an odd counterpoint to the persistent images playing in his brain.
�We want to help you, Jack. Come back to us, let us help you.�
The aliens had never spoken to him in a language he could understand. How was it possible that the shades that populated this place could be so clear in their speech and intent? They sounded so sincere.
He gripped the sheets with rough fingers. They were clean and crisp beneath his touch. Was it real? He blinked and looked at Daniel again. The younger man had not shifted his gaze. He was quietly watching Jack, blue eyes dark behind his glasses. He kept one hand on Jack�s shoulder while the fingers of the other rubbed his jaw. �Do you hear me?� he repeated cautiously. �Do you understand where you are?�
�Infirmary?� The single hoarse word was more of a question than a statement. A means to force the shade to speak again to either confirm, or deny it's reality.
�Yes.� A smile touched Daniel�s somber face. �Yes, you are in the Infirmary, Jack.�
A deep sigh escaped his lips. Jack leaned back and saw Daniel reach hastily forward to remove the pillow that blocked his movement. He stretched carefully, wincing at the dulled pain in his back and legs. His eyelids were drifting closed again, drawing in the darkness. What would sleep bring? Would he wake up in the cell? The Id was chanting a steady, if somewhat muted warning at the back of his mind. Jack fought it gripping the sides of the bed with trembling fingers.
I will be here! I am here, Reason asserted firmly. For a moment the voice of fear fell silent and he slept.
His body was being rolled gently from side to side. A low groan issued from his dry lips as his stomach churned in protest. The movement stopped and then resumed slower than before. Hands smoothed the blankets into place and adjusted the IV tubing where it pulled against his skin. Words flitted back and forth over his body.
He couldn�t be bothered to focus on their meaning. It was hard enough to accept that he was out of the cell. His eyes moved restlessly beneath their lids, as he warred with the cautious Id that wished to protect him from disappointment and renewed agony.
Winning the struggle, Jack opened his eyes. The overhead lights had been muted with only a couple lamps left on over workstations. Monitors flickered, adding their intermittent glow. Beyond the closed door he could hear people walking the halls. The normal background hum of the SGC as personnel and equipment moved through the base. He felt secure, immersed in these sounds and sights. The Id was chattering incessantly now, but its voice was growing decidedly weaker. Still, he could not be sure and Jack found himself reaching for the odd comfort that its� warning brought.
Can I depend on what I see? Touch? Hear? Will it all disappear when I close my eyes again? With a stab of fear he blinked and then slowly closed his eyes to test the theory. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, but he forced himself to breathe through the anxiety for ten long seconds before he allowed himself to look. His eyes snapped open as a strangled gasp escaped his throat.
�Colonel? Are you in pain?�
Jack swung his gaze sharply to the left and winced as dizziness dimmed his vision. The nurse�s white uniform was an indistinct blur, capped by a shock of blond hair. �No,� he whispered raggedly.
In truth, he wasn�t.
But then it�s a dream, there shouldn�t be any pain. The Id reminded him almost smugly.
Jack swallowed. No I am here�in the Infirmary�He tried to infuse his inner affirmation with strength and clarity. Anything to drive back the persistent doubts that gnawed at him. I am Jack and I am safe, Reason asserted.
He could almost believe it was true.
The sudden blare of klaxons jolted him. Fresh, cold sweat bathed his back, as he trembled with shock. Beyond the door he heard the thunder of running feet and the clatter of equipment as the base went on high alert. Bright crimson light swept across the floor, glowing intermittently in the crack beneath the Infirmary door. The nurse stiffened beside him, automatically tuning her senses to listen to the intercom in the corner of the room. Words spilled forth, falling in a jumble around them both. Jack watched her face, it was easier than trying to sort out the compilation of sounds and words issuing from the speaker. She glanced down and offered him a pale smile of encouragement.
�It�s SG-7, Sir. They were under fire from a large squad of Jaffa, but they made it back with only minor injuries.� She patted his shoulder and moved towards the door. �I will be right back, okay?�
He did not reply. Out of habit he raised a weak hand and waved it dismissively. She paused uncertain in the doorway, then walked hurriedly out into the busy hall.
Her absence sent fresh tremors coursing through his battered frame. He looked around the dimly lit room. The equipment that hugged the walls was quietly humming to itself. He heard the burble and click of the IV pump. He could see the rhythms of his heartbeat on the monitor, the sound muted to a tolerable level. The steady beat was reassuring, a reminder that he did still exist. His eyes fell to the wires and tubes that crisscrossed his body before disappearing beneath the blankets to connect with his flesh. He let his gaze travel the length and breadth of himself before drifting to the computer screen across the room. A screensaver was painting long yellow lines in disjointed shapes across the black screen.
He blinked, trying to break away from the hypnotic display, but it drew him back. The lines formed lazy squiggles and loops and he followed them. Their bright glow seemed to draw muted browns and grays from the background and the screen took on a shiny appearance. He blinked more rapidly, trying to dispel the crazy mirage that held him transfixed. The walls around him blurred and morphed until he saw the uneven blocks of the cell marching higher and higher beyond his reach. The cool coil of IV tubing became slimy and eel like where it rested on his bare arm. He flinched and cried out in horror. Wrenching his arm, he tore the needle free. Droplets of fresh warm blood and fluid sprayed his face and spattered across the white sheets and onto the floor.
It was true! The Id, that had howled in fear and protest as he slowly succumbed to the idea of freedom, had been right!
Alarms shrieked as he dropped wide eyes to his trembling arm. Drops of blood welled one at a time from the hole left by the needle. They grew until they burst and ran slowly down to his wrist. A ruby trail followed the bend of one bone white finger until it coalesced at the tip and hung suspended on the ragged fingernail. A rush of air dislodged the droplet and it plummeted towards the floor. Impacting with a white nurse�s shoe it spread, discoloring the canvas to an incongruous, cheery pink.
�I told you he wasn�t to be left alone!� Janet snapped in controlled disgust.
The order drew Jack back to himself with a bone jarring thud. He coughed and sucked in a shaky breath as she bent over him. The blond nurse who had left him moments�hours�earlier was standing on his other side. Her gaze alternated between his rigid form and her fingers, which were twisting nervously as Janet bustled around them both.
�SG-1 couldn�t stay on base. You weren�t supposed to leave him for any reason, Lieutenant!� Janet growled out, her anger barely contained. �Do you think you can follow orders this time? Or do I need to chain you to his bedside?�
�Yes Ma�am�I mean, no Ma�am.� She swallowed hard. �I�ll stay put.�
Jack watched the exchange through bleary eyes. Janet�s heated words added weight to the idea that he was in the bed that felt so solid and soft beneath his aching body. Lieutenant�.Rush�was as real as the fresh needle that pricked his arm and the cool ache of the IV solution that flowed anew into his veins.
Janet ran a hand through her sweaty red hair and shook her head. �Charlotte, you need to think. Colonel O�Neill has just been through some of the worst trauma the human body can endure. You have enough training and experience to realize that he should not be left alone.�
Jack closed his eyes, shutting out the Lieutenant�s flushed face and Janet�s deep frown. But he fought the urge to sleep listening to their words despite the creeping exhaustion.
�I know that, Ma�am. I thought he would be okay. He seemed to be aware of what I was doing, where he was. I only wanted to help with SG-7. He seemed to understand that, waved at me when I went out the door.�
�He�s not himself, Charlotte. Just look for God�s sake!� Janet bit out. �I thought I could trust you��
�You can!� The younger woman protested. He could hear the sorrow and fear in her strained voice. �I would never knowingly endanger anyone on this base, certainly not Colonel O�Neill��
�Janet�� His voice was a faint whisper, coming from somewhere within the gray haze that clouded his mind. �It�s alright�not her fault.�
Why did it matter, they were only delusions of people he was familiar with?
He pushed the thought aside and cleared his throat. Opening his eyes was too tiring to even contemplate so he continued to stare at the lids as he added. �I knew where she was going��
Janet, judging by the location of the sound, sighed deeply and patted his arm. �With all due respect, Sir. You aren�t in any position to give orders. Certainly not to my medical staff who are responsible for your well being at the moment.�
Jack felt an impish grin tugging at the drawn skin around his lips. �Can�t stop me from trying, you know how much I hate being in here.� He didn�t know where the levity had come from and the truth was he would rather be in this soft bed than anywhere else in the known universe. His words seemed to produce the desired effect however. He heard the brush of Janet�s hair as she shook her head and he felt the movement of air across his body as she reached out to Charlotte Rush. They did not speak, but he could almost hear her gentle smile followed by a empathetic sigh.
The sharp click of Janet�s heels retreated from his bedside and faded as the door was closed. Jack slitted his eyes and saw Lieutenant Rush staring at the ceiling. A pair of tears trailed down over her flushed cheeks and hovered on her jaw line before splattering onto his arm and the sheets. He flinched and the sound of his movement drew her attention.
She blushed an even brighter crimson and sniffed as she drew an arm across her eyes. �I�m sorry, Sir, not very professional of me. I shouldn�t have left you alone. I deserved the reprimand.�
He couldn�t speak at first. The moisture from her tears burned into his skin, sending a thrill of welcome sensation across his nerves. Each passing moment was drawing him closer to an undeniable conclusion. Dare he hope that the Id was wrong?
Jack drew a deep breath and looked up at into the damp face of the lieutenant. She caught him staring and looked hurriedly away. Absorbing herself in the monitor at his bedside and in the array of medicines and instruments that filled a nearby tray. �It�s okay,� he managed softly.
She smiled and he let his eyes drift close.
Each time Jack opened his eyes he expected to be back in the cold isolation of the tower. The feel of the bed beneath his body and the murmur of machines and people were a pleasant surprise he did not wish to forget. Despite or perhaps because of their persistent presence, the Id had become angry and resentful.
He was giving up, giving in, too easily to the fantasy. Reality was the darkness. The feel of the rain as it bounced off the walls of the cell before impacting with the floor and his filthy skin with stunning force. Sustenance was a scrap of soggy bread wrapped around a chunk of undercooked meat. Hydration was a stream running down the moldy walls. The need to preserve himself and his sanity was paramount to the Id. The sharp inner voice could not accept that reality had changed for the better. Dare not acknowledge that it could and should meld back into his torn psyche and allow him the comfort of his altered surroundings.
The voice would not listen to the words, or the tones of fear and love that washed over him when his friends came to his bedside. The same voice stopped the memories of what had brought him to the horror of the tower in the first place. The Id tossed up a blank wall, as high and thick as the prison itself. For the latter, he was grateful, but disturbed.
He could not be Jack to himself, or anyone else, until he broke through that wall. He was certain of that knowledge. The assertion gave him strength to fight the bruised side of his mind. He demanded an explanation from the implacable Id and got only fear in response. Fear of disappearing into the void, as his self confidence grew.
Jack was reluctant to silence the voice entirely. It had served him in good stead, preserved him in some fashion until he could be rescued.
Could he accept this new state of being as reality? If he did, then the Id would be finally silenced. A state he welcomed and feared. The Jack that was reason, the Ego, would reemerge and dominate. The floodgates would open and he would remember�everything.
Or nothing?
What would he do if beyond the walls there were only more empty rooms?
He drifted in a state of limbo. He listened to the voices of his friends as they took their turns by his bedside. The warmth of their friendship washed over and through him in palpable waves. Jonas spoke quietly about nothing of consequence and patted him on the shoulder, afraid to get too close and risk rejection. Jack would hold himself quite still during his visits, grateful for the sentiment from the younger man he had gradually grown to trust. Daniel occasionally grabbed his arm and gave him a firm squeeze, a powerful reminder of the brotherhood that they had shared in another lifetime. Before the darkness that tinged his every waking thought. Teal�c simply stood or sat in silence. His presence undeniable, the very air charged with his fierce devotion. When things were still and quiet late at night, Sam came. She held his hand. There were no words, only her fingers entwined with his. Her breathing slow and even close by his ear.
As the days slowly passed and his strength returned, Jack�s mind began to clear. The Id no longer had control and had retired to merciful silence. Raising its strident voice only in his nightmares, which were surprisingly infrequent. He began to consider the possibility that he would survive the ordeal in the tower, without his memory. but emotionally intact. The disparity of that scenario was something he did not dwell on.
He lay in bed with his eyes closed most of the time, whether he slept or not. When the medical staff came to change his dressings or the sheets he dutifully complied. Cracking his lids long enough to submit to their ministrations before re-submerging himself into the darkness that had become a comforting haven.
Everything seemed to raise flashbacks of the tower. The color of the walls, the sound of orders being given over the intercom, the clank of equipment being moved. Completely dissimilar to where he had been, but close enough to send a thrill of panic across his raw nerves. What he did not see he could more easily ignore. So he slept and he drifted. Never letting any one thought coalesce to a coherent level in his mind.
Only the murmur of encouraging voices in his ear could draw his attention. They did not come frequently enough for his taste, however. As his health gradually improved there were long periods where he was left alone. The return of reason made it clear why the silences happened, but did not make them easier to bear. Keeping his eyelids firmly clamped shut was the only way he could prevent at least a portion of the flashbacks. He would hide behind the mottled crimson curtain, gasping softly at the images that replayed in surreal silence. His discomfiture would eventually draw someone�s attention and they would respond with a kind word and a hand on his shoulder. It didn�t matter who, only that the touch was gentle and fleeting on his trembling skin.
The arrival of Doctor McKenzie was an unwelcome intrusion into the world he had created for himself.
Jack had become content with the status quo. Denying his body�s now frequent demands to get up and get moving. It was easier to lie in bed and let the nurses massage his legs and arms in an effort to stave off blood clots. Far less taxing than the mere thought of beginning the physical therapy that would enable him to function with some semblance of normalcy. He wasn�t tired, God knew he had slept enough! But getting out of bed meant he had to face the stark gray walls of the Infirmary. The thought terrified him. Manifesting itself in waves of crippling fear that left him weak and breathless.
Dr. Robert McKenzie would not allow him to wallow.
The mere presence of the man infuriated Jack for reasons he was loathe to explore.
Leave me alone!
He wanted to shout his rage and frustration.
I�ve been through enough. I just want to be left alone!
The psychiatrist persisted, undeterred.
McKenzie came every day and sat quietly by his bedside. Jack could hear him breathing. Sometimes the scratch of his pen would fill the silence between them. The good doctor was not fooled by his feigned sleep, so Jack gave up and simply lay there with his eyes closed. Patiently waiting out the persistent psychiatrist.
Unfortunately, as his bruises and bones healed, Jack found his ability to outlast the doctor rapidly failing.
The modus operandi of the visits was always the same. The doctor would enter the Infirmary and speak quietly to the nurse on duty. He would come to the bedside and Jack would hear him release a long hissing sigh between his lips as he studied the chart on the table. He would clear his throat and greet Jack, �Colonel?� Then he would sit on the stool that was always present and he would wait.
Jack was never sure how long he sat there. It could have been the standard hour it could have been longer. As the days passed he began to think it was the whole afternoon. It was after a particularly harrowing night of dreams filled with flashes of bright red light and guttural almost drunken laughter that his resolve finally broke.
McKenzie came at the same time everyday, Jack�s internal senses had become attuned after the first few visits, though he had never checked a clock. At the appointed hour he put his back to the doorway in blatant protest. He heard Charlotte Rush�s low tones as she greeted him, then the doctor�s footsteps as he crossed the room to the side of the bed. The pages on the chart rustled, as he thumbed through it, followed shortly by the jarring squeak of the wheels on the stool. Jack bit his lip, wishing he had asked one of the nurses to get Siler to oil the damn thing. McKenzie settled into his usual place and cleared his throat. �Colonel?�
�Doc.� Jack acknowledged, secretly pleased by the sharp intake of breath from the startled man.
�You feel like talking today?�
�Not really. I�ve been accused of being rather dense, Doc. But I think you set a world�s record.�
�Oh?�
Jack could envision the curious lift of the doctor�s eyebrows as he shifted in his seat.
�How do you mean?� he prompted.
�You�ve been coming in here for how long? A week, a month?�
�Two weeks, Colonel,� he corrected quietly.
�What do you expect from me?� Jack rolled over slowly and studied the now orange and black tracery of blood vessels on the inside of his eyelids.
�It�s an interesting question, Colonel. Why do you think I�m here?�
Answer a question with a question, typical double talk. Jack shook his head. �I asked you first,� he pointed out.
�True, but I think you know the answer. Why don�t you tell me?�
Jack snorted derisively. �You expect me to spill my guts.�
�Really? What exactly does �spill your guts� mean, Colonel?�
�You want to know about everything that happened in that place don�t you?�
�Is this a bad thing?�
The unexpected response left Jack nonplussed. No, it wasn�t a bad thing at all, except for the fact that he couldn�t tell McKenzie what he did not know. �I guess not,� he admitted quietly.
�Colonel, I would like you to look at me.�
�Why?� he was surprised and angry at the tremor of fear in his voice.
�Why not?�
�I can hear you.�
�Yes, I can hear you as well. But that isn�t the point, is it?� McKenzie pressed.
Jack could hear him scribbling notes as he spoke. �Something important?� He was stalling for time and the doctor knew it, judging by the nearly inaudible click of his tongue.
�Possibly,� he paused. �Look at me, Colonel.�
�Is that an order?� The thought of opening his eyes and actually confronting McKenzie�s probing gaze had his guts twisted into nauseating knots. He swallowed audibly. His pulse was pounding heavily in his ears, filling the view behind his eyelids with pinpoints of light and a throbbing orange glow.
�Colonel?�
�What?� he snapped, clenching his teeth against a flurry of expletives.
�Open your eyes, look at me.�
�Why?�
�Beyond the fact that it�s just good manners to look at someone when they speak to you��
�I didn�t invite you in here!� Jack interrupted hotly.
�No, General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser did. However, that isn�t the point is it, Colonel?�
He knew where McKenzie was headed. On an instinctual level he could accept that the doctor was right. Actually looking someone, anyone, in the eye was something he hadn�t done since�
Jack shook his head violently and brought his hands to his face. He dug the heels into his eye sockets until the muscles ached and stars exploded across his vision.
In the cell he had looked at them. Flaming, emerald eyes, pupils so bright they seemed to bore straight through to the back of his skull. Staring the creatures full in the face, making eye contact, had been the one thing that he had done that truly unnerved them. Making beings that powerful angry had not been one of his better maneuvers. He had paid for his audacity with a clout to the head that erased all knowledge of who he was and why he was there.
Was that why he didn�t dare look at the doctor? Was he afraid of the rage that could befall him? It didn�t make sense, he argued with himself. McKenzie was the base psychiatrist, a man sworn to help people through emotional turmoil.
�Colonel, where are you?�
The soft query interrupted his mental meanderings. Jack released a long, slow breath between his lips. He was tempted to make a smart remark in response to the question, but the quip died unborn in his dry mouth. Where am I? Locked up inside here, afraid to come out into the light, terrified of the shadows. Which is the lesser of two evils? He lowered one hand and tapped the side of his pounding head with the other. �I�m in here, Doc.�
�Colonel, open your eyes.� McKenzie urged gently.
Jack turned stiffly on his side until he was facing the patient man. With a soft groan he sat up and ran a hand over the back of his neck, wincing at the pinpricks of pain that lingered. He brought his head up and took a calming breath, before opening his eyes.
McKenzie offered him a pale smile. �Thank you,� he said simply.
�Yeah, whatever.� He blinked against the glare of the desk light and forced himself to look the doctor in the eye. The other man nodded slightly his dark brown gaze meeting Jack�s without hesitation.
�Colonel?�
�What?� Jack dropped his eyes to the floor. Fighting the shudder that raced up his clammy back, he restlessly rubbed his hands together. �Satisfied?�
�It�s a start.�
�What�s next, juggling? I�m out of practice.�
�It was difficult, wasn�t it?� The doctor continued, ignoring his flippancy.
Jack swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. �Yeah, you noticed that, huh?�
�It�s my job,� McKenzie qualified with a shrug.
�I guess it is.�
�Why?�
�Why what?�
�Colonel, I know you. As a military commander it is part of your job to face people. Address them with confidence as you give orders. More than that, it is in your nature to be forthright and confrontational if the situation calls for it.�
�Your point?� Jack retorted, attempting to infuse his voice with a semblance of the man McKenzie claimed he was. It was a losing proposition.
�My point is simply this. You could not look me in the eye until today. Why?�
�I don�t know.� It was a lie that fell easily from his lips and landed with a telltale thud between them.
McKenzie wasn�t buying. He cleared his throat and shifted his seat. �I think you do, where were you just now?�
Jack struggled to deny the truth that wanted to tumble headlong from his cottony mouth. He didn�t want to tell McKenzie about the creatures that had no real faces, beings without recognizable form or substance. Their lanky forms as thin and flimsy as a summer curtain. What would the good doctor say if he told him about the eyes? The crystalline emeralds that glittered in the darkness setting his brain on fire every time they looked his way. Or the laughter that chased around inside his mind. Bouncing off the gray blank walls of memory, filling him with confusion and rage that ultimately would evolve into terror.
�Colonel, why was it so difficult?� McKenzie repeated calmly.
�Because.�
The doctor waited rolling his felt tip pen between his fingers.
Jack shook his head and slid restlessly off the bed.
McKenzie caught him as he swayed and sagged towards the floor. Dropping his notebook, he grabbed Jack�s arms and settled him back on the bed with a grunt. �I don�t think you are quite ready for a walk just yet,� he chastised.
Jack sat trembling on the bed rubbing the shivers from his bare arms. It was natural for him to pace when he needed to think. Movement helped him process his thoughts. The experiences on P2Z-421 had taken that from him.
He paused in shock as the register number of the planet flashed through his mind. It was a detail he would ordinarily have forgotten. Usually it was a convenient excuse to bug Carter in her lab under the guise of completing his mission report. She never bought it. Now, like a beacon, the numbers had risen from the depths of his brain. Jack rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. Remembering the planet designation could be a good start to remembering what had happened. On the other hand, it could release a flood of emotions that he could not hope to ride out. Events so terrifying that he had retreated to a place in his mind most sane people never discovered.
He had not forgotten the Id, or the confusing jumble of thoughts that characterized the first days, or was it weeks of his return to the SGC. The side of his mind that had risen to the challenge of protecting his fragile psyche from the alien�s manipulations, had only gone dormant. Occasionally, late at night he would hear its� anxious voice. It persisted in denying the reality of where he was. For the most part, the where and who of his world had become a non- issue. When he awoke from a particularly violent nightmare and lay panting in the semi darkness, the voice would speak. Whispering to him, urging him to look at the gray walls and see the mold and fungus growing in slippery bunches. The voice would twist the muted hum of the machines and the quiet words of the staff into the telltale clank and mutterings of his former captors. He would have to remind himself to breathe and forcefully shove the Id to the back of his troubled thoughts. Most days it was relatively easy to let reality reassert itself. Other days he would lay for what felt like hours, his legs moving restlessly until the sheets were tied in knots. The nurses would find him in a sweat soaked state and change the linen without comment. They would offer him a washcloth and basin, then draw the curtain while he wiped the remnants of the terrors from his shivering body.
Jack dropped his hands to his sides and slowly raised his eyes. McKenzie was watching him unobtrusively beneath half closed lids. �Are you alright, Colonel?� he asked softly.
�No,� Jack admitted bitterly. �If I were, you wouldn�t be here.�
�True enough. Why couldn�t you look at me?�
�Didn�t I already answer that?� he protested futilely.
�You said �because�. That�s not an answer.�
No, it wasn�t. Jack sighed in frustration. He didn�t want to answer any more questions. The doctor�s steady voice and quiet demeanor infuriated him. He struggled to understand why as he groped for an answer to placate the man and hopefully drive him from the room.
McKenzie retrieved his pen and notebook and sat back on the stool. He waited in silence, rolling the felt tip between his fingers.
Jack glared at his folded hands, squeezing them so tightly together that the joints began to ache with the pressure. He was speaking before he realized it. �Because you are like them! Waiting and watching me! Reacting the same whether I ignore you, answer you, yell and scream�cry� Nothing is different! No matter what I say you react the same, like them! If I looked them in the eye I would feel the bite of a thousand fire ants across my scalp. Pain so great I thought my head would explode! Because if I dared to protest, to fight back, they would beat me senseless for my efforts!�
The words that leapt from his throat were filled with rage so hot it shocked even himself. Unplanned and irrational, they spilled out filling the space between them. �I looked at them once, just once�and my whole world exploded when they laid a club across my skull!� He trailed into silence, amazed by the memory that had chosen to surface in the midst of his tirade.
�I see.�
�That�s it, you see!� Jack flung his hands apart and punched the air with one trembling fist. �You see? I wish you did! I wish I hadn�t�I wish to God I�� The words caught in his throat.
McKenzie did not speak. He chose to shift his seat slightly forward, leaning towards Jack without actually moving.
Jack�s arms fell to his sides. �Nothing,� he murmured into his chest.
He expected the doctor to protest in some fashion; a muttered word, a click of the tongue, an order a query. McKenzie did none of those things. To Jack�s utter shock he slowly stood up and pushed the stool back behind the head of the bed. �I�ll be back tomorrow, get some rest, Colonel.� He advised in a level tone before he turned on his heel and walked from the room.
Continued in Part Three Dreams
Part Three contains graphic sexual situations.
