Devolution

Author: Badgergater

Email: [email protected]

Season: 7

Episode: Evolution

Spoilers: Evolution, Abyss, Need

Category: Epilogue; drama, hurt/comfort

Rating: PG

Warnings: A couple of adult words

Pairing: None

Summary: The aftermath of that little trip to the tropics… picks up right at the end of the episode

Disclaimer: I don’t own SG-1. If I did, S7 wouldn’t have been so awful.

Author’s Note: With Jack light, so much was left out in S7...

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The rescue chopper was right on time.

Colonel Jack O’Neill watched as Daniel Jackson, Dr. Lee and his old buddy Burke all climbed aboard, the box containing the alien device firmly settled onto the floor of the big bird. Once the others were secure, Jack clambered on board last, wiping the sweat from his face.

He was sooo glad to be on his way outta there.

He hated jungles.

He’d much rather be somewhere cold and icy.

Jungles… heat and humidity and bugs, bugs and humidity and heat, and don’t forget the snakes, and those were the *good* things.

Sitting back in his seat as the chopper lifted off, O’Neill studied the ragged crew sitting around him. Burke was still chewing gum and wearing that stupid grin that set Jack’s teeth on edge. Even when they’d been teammates all those years ago, Burke had always had the ability to annoy Jack. When he got back, though, O’Neill would follow through and see the man got a better assignment. After the story Burke had revealed, he deserved it, Jack had to admit, if grudgingly. Hell, on that long-ago mission he’d probably saved Jack’s life, and in return, Burke had been rewarded with this dead-end assignment. Typical.

Turning to the men they’d come to rescue, it was obvious that Dr. Lee was in the best shape. He didn’t look much like a scientist at the moment, dirty, exhausted, covered with minor burns, bruises, welts, bug bites, and dehydrated of course. Daniel was in the same basic condition, which was more serious considering he was also suffering from a bullet wound in the leg. Jack had washed out the bullet hole with water from his canteen, smeared it with antibiotic cream, applied a makeshift bandage, and watched while Daniel downed antibiotics from their emergency medical kit. Wounds sustained in the jungle were always dangerous… lots of nasty little critters thrived in the hot, humid atmosphere, just waiting for some luckless injured mammal to prey upon.

The medics, of course, had improved on his improvised doctoring first thing when they arrived.

Daniel, fortunately, was going to be all right.

That left him with just two of his teammates to worry about, and, now that his objective here was accomplished, far too much time to do it.

While he’d been focused on rescuing Daniel and Dr. Lee, Jack hadn’t thought much about the mission Carter, Teal’c, Jacob and Bra’tac had gone on, to the home world of those slimy super soldier things. Shuddering at the recollection of the inhuman form they’d found under the black armor, the Colonel could only hope things had gone well.

He hated that his team, or half of his team, had gone off on a mission without him. They could get into too much trouble, out there in the universe. Hell, Daniel had almost gotten himself killed right here on his home planet.

Worry tightening a knot in his chest, Jack finally fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.

-------------

Jack finished typing up his report, reminding himself to find Hammond and fulfill his promise to Burke. Skimming quickly through the completed document, he initialed the bottom and threw it in his out tray, glad the chore was done.

Standing, he stretched cautiously, his back popping, carefully twisting his torso side to side, working the stiffness out of his back after far too much time spent sitting behind his desk. Filled with restless energy after so many sedentary hours, the Colonel needed something physical to do. Normally, he’d go find Teal’c and they’d head over to the gym where he would work off his worry with a few rounds with the big gloves. But Teal’c was one of the people he was worried about, so instead, he wandered through the SGC’s quiet halls and up to the control room. He was surprised to find the place almost deserted.

"Today a holiday or something? Christmas? Fourth of July? Groundhog Day? Or maybe there’s a meeting no one told me about?"

"No, Sir," the lone technician on duty told him.

"Then where is everyone?"

"Home, Sir. The day shift left hours ago."

In surprise, Jack looked at his watch, stunned to see it was nearly 2 a.m.

He ought to be tired. Hell, he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours in any of the last couple of days. Then again, being worried usually did fill him with restless energy, especially since there was nothing physical he could do to help. This whole situation left him feeling frustrated and out of sorts, very much out of the loop because he was stuck here while half his team was out there. "Call when they report in," he ordered the tech.

"Yes, Sir, Colonel."

Still in need of something to do to occupy his time and use up some energy, Jack headed for the cafeteria. It was empty, nothing there but one last pot of late night coffee simmering into sludge. He started to take a cup but felt jittery enough without it. He really didn’t need more caffeine.

Daniel. He could go visit Daniel, in the infirmary. That was it. Sure, Doc had ordered him out hours ago, but she would have gone home by now, too. Anyone else on duty, he could bluster his way past.

Focused on an objective now, he hurried through the halls.

The infirmary was quiet. Daniel and Dr. Lee were the only patients. Lee was snoring away in a bed near the door. SG-1’s archaeologist was in the bed at the far end of the room. He’d dozed off with his glasses still on, a book lying across his chest. With the dirt washed off his face, the bruises were far more visible, but on the whole, he looked damned good for someone who’d been in the hands of kidnappers less than 36 hours before.

Jack picked up the chair that sat beside the bed, swinging it around to sit facing the wrong way, folding his long arms over the back of the chair. "Hi, Daniel," he whispered.

"Mmmfff," was the only answer as the injured man settled his head more firmly down into the pillows.

"You really ought to take those things off when you sleep, you know," Jack whispered, reaching forward to pluck the glasses off Jackson’s face.

Daniel sighed with contentment, then frowned as his movement on the bed jarred his injured leg.

"Daniel…" Jack reached out a hand and poked the archaeologist on the upper arm. "Daniel…"

Jackson’s head snapped up, and he looked around in confusion. "Wha? Who?"

Jack dangled the offending glasses inches from Daniel’s nose. "You were about to roll over onto these…"

"Wasn’t," Jackson said, snatching the eyewear out of O’Neill’s hands. He knew how endangered they were, how endangered anything was, in Jack’s ever busy hands. Daniel put the glasses on, squinting across the room at the clock before sinking back down on the bed and closing his eyes. "Jack, it’s nearly 3 a.m. What are you doing here?"

O’Neill put on the injured air of an offended friend. "Gee, I thought you’d appreciate me sitting here and keeping you company."

"I was sleeping."

"Well, I wasn’t."

Daniel popped one eye open to study Jack apprehensively. Suddenly, he sat up straighter, a worried frown appearing on his face. "Sam? Teal’c? Did something happen?"

"Nothing. There’s no word yet."

The injured man relaxed. "Ah, so you’re worried."

Glasses now out of reach, the commander of SG-1 had picked up a styrofoam cup from the bedside tray, quietly shredding it, the tiny white bits falling to the floor like snowflakes. "Not really. Just…" he shrugged.

"You’re worried."

"Right. I’m worried." O’Neill stood, glancing around. "Just thought you might be, too."

"I probably would be except Janet gave me some stuff that would knock out an elephant." Daniel yawned. "You should get some sleep."

Jack didn’t meet his friend’s eyes, staring down at the last battered bits of the cup. "It’s hard to worry alone."

"Get some sleep, Jack."

"Daniel," that wheedling tone of voice was back, the one that said O’Neill wanted something.

"Jack, it’s three o’clock in the morning. I’m recuperating. You look like you haven’t slept…"

"I haven’t."

"Well, then, go try." Daniel let his eyes fall shut and ignored the theatrical sigh that indicated Jack’s feelings were hurt, but he was far too manly to mention it. "Good night, Jack."

"Yeah, good night Daniel." O’Neill headed for the door, stopping to peer back in before leaving, reluctantly.

---------------

He really did try to sleep.

Arriving back at his office, O’Neill took off his boots, setting them neatly at the end of the cot. He flipped off the light switch, and padded back across the floor to lie down on the bunk, telling himself to sleep.

Normally, that worked perfectly. After all, he had years and years of practice honing the soldiers’ ability to sleep when the opportunity presented itself.

This night, however, nothing happened.

He rolled over to lie on his left side, tucking his arm under the pillow only after he’d folded it over twice and pounded out the offending lumps.

Sleep eluded him.

He rolled over onto his right side, knees bent, right arm under his pillow.

His overtired brain roiled with images of what could have happened during the mission he’d missed. His teammates could even now be captured by Anubis, undergoing torture. Their ship could have been blown out of the sky. They could be trapped on the damn Gould’s base. They could be battling hordes of those unstoppable slime-soldiers.

They could be dead…

The ugly possibilities were endless.

He rolled over onto his back, hoping a change of position would help him change the direction of his thoughts, but they were firmly fixed on the path of worst case scenarios. Endless visions of all the disasters that could have befallen the four of them rolled through his imagination. With each successively uglier vision that scrolled across his consciousness, he felt the small headache he’d started the evening with swell and expand.

"Arrrgghhh," sitting up, clutching his temples with his hands, Jack rocked back and forth.

He really, really wanted the headache to go away. Stumbling across the room, he opened the bottom right desk drawer and pulled out the pills Doc had given him for his last migraine. Dry swallowing two of them, he returned to the cot and made himself lie down once more. The ticking of the clock echoed loudly in his ears as he lay, sleepless, for hours.

------------------

At 5:30 a.m., he was up, heading for the showers. The headache had retreated to a dull but constant shadow of itself by the time he was washed, shaved and dressed in fresh BDUs. Despite the fact that his skull was no longer throbbing, he elected to skip breakfast except for the coffee, which he craved. He filled his cup and was turning to head back to the sanctuary of his office when he heard her call.

"Colonel O’Neill. Just the person I was looking for."

Jack looked over at the tiny woman with the big voice and the even bigger attitude. Doctor Fraiser was glaring at him with one of those looks that meant he was in big trouble. "Doc?" he followed her toward a table, putting on his best, most innocent expression.

She sat down, her tray on the table before her, neatly unfolding her napkin before pouring milk onto her cereal, the healthy, sugarless bran flakes he avoided like the plague. "Colonel, I hear you were disturbing my patients last night," she started.

"Only one, Doc," he proclaimed, hoping to save himself.

"One is one too many, Sir," she raised her glance and took a good look at him, noting the tired lines around his eyes. Her voice softened. "Couldn’t sleep, Sir?"

"I was waiting for the others to get home." He didn’t need to say who the others were.

Fraiser nodded. "I understand, Colonel. But Daniel needed his rest…"

"I know," he said, contritely, still hoping to deflect her attention.

"And apparently, so do you." She waved her spoon at the empty space on the table. "No breakfast?"

"Not hungry."

"It’s the most important meal of the day," she noted brightly.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Yes, Mom."

"Really, Colonel, you should eat something." She studied him a moment longer as he rubbed a hand across the bridge of his nose. "Headache?" she asked, kindly.

He nodded.

"I could get you something."

"No, no, I’ll be fine."

She studied him once more, brow furrowing in concern. "I know you’re worried about them, but they’ll be fine. I’m sure."

"I should be out there with them," he muttered.

"You can’t be two places at the same time, Colonel. You brought Daniel and Dr. Lee home. And with that device we need." She reached across the table, patting his arm. "I prescribe a mid-morning nap, Sir. I take them myself when I’ve been up all night."

"Yeah, right," he mumbled.

How was he supposed to nap when he couldn’t sleep? Another hour of fruitless tossing and turning left him more annoyed than ever, with himself, with Doc, with his missing teammates, with the crummy cots the Air Force issued. You’d think as a Colonel he could get something decent to sleep on

Just at the point where he was contemplating the probabilities that he’d get court-martialed for ordering a sleep number bed and charging it to his Air Force credit card, he heard the gate activate.

O’Neill ran for the gateroom, arriving as the wheel of the giant alien artifact was still spinning. "Davis?" he shouted up at the gate technician.

"It’s SG-1’s code, Sir," the tech answered with a grin.

Jack took a deep breath, straightened his shirt, and carefully arranged his face in his best casual expression. No need to let the kids know he’d been worried about them, no need at all.

The General arrived just as the wormhole exploded outward like a giant water droplet.

Jack watched anxiously as the returnees stepped through the gate, Carter with her arm in a sling, but walking on her own two feet; Teal’c’s subtle cat-that-just-swallowed-the-canary grin; and Jacob smiling. He let the tension flow out of his shoulders, relaxing. They were back. Alive.

He never did get that lunch with Carter or anyone else. Doc kept the major in the infirmary, and, once Jacob cleared medical, Jack took the liberty of escorting the Tok’ra and the Jaffa to the lab where Tal’shak’s fancy box sat, silent.

Jacob stopped at the door, his face going pale as he put his hand to his forehead. "You’re sure that thing’s off?"

"Oh yeah, if it was on, you’d know it," said Daniel, who’d found a chair to sit on, propping his crutches against the wall as he massaged the aching muscles in his injured thigh.

"I can sense something…" Jacob was looking around distractedly. "Teal’c?"

"Without my symbiote, I no longer possess the ability to be aware of such things," the Jaffa replied.

"You’re sure it’s off?" Jacob demanded, looking over at Daniel once more.

"Absolutely. When it was on, it emitted a bright light. It was unmistakable."

"And you saw it work?"

"Oh, yeah. It re-animates dead tissue all right, " Daniel insisted.

"The whole night of the living dead walking zombie thing," Jack added. "Just like in the movies. Dead guy takes half a clip in the chest and just gets up and keeps on coming like a ghoulish Energizer Bunny."

Jacob approached the device uneasily, peering at it closely as he walked around the table where it stood. "I don’t know. I have this feeling," he shuddered. "Look, we’re going to have to study this thing in order to figure out how it created those super soldiers, which may mean turning it on. So I think we’d better move it offworld to one of the Tok’ra bases."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa," Jack objected. "Now just wait a minute here. *We* found it, on *our* planet, and *we* retrieved it, at considerable risk to life and limb of SGC personnel."

"And *we* went off to Anubis’s base to get the intel we needed to go with it," Jacob countered.

"Yes, and your *we* included half of *my* team," Jack retorted smugly. "Five from the SGC, one from the Tok’ra. I think that gives us first dibs on this thing."

"Jack, that isn’t the point. The point is, it’s not safe to turn this thing on here."

Daniel raised a hand in the air. "I’ll agree to that. Not only did the dead rise, but the living, okay, Raphael and his buddies were bad guys to start with, but they got *really* bad when that was turned on. Really, really bad," he emphasized.

"So okay, we send it off world, but that doesn’t mean we send it to the Tok’ra," Jack amended, suspicious of them as always.

"Where, then?" Jacob demanded. "We need facilities to test it."

"We need to protect it, too," O’Neill added.

"The Alpha Site has an extensive science lab set up. And a security contingent on hand," General Hammond walked into the room. "Major Carter has already suggested it as the preferred location to carry on testing the device." George looked around at all those present in the room. "Agreed?"

Jacob nodded, as did Teal’c, Daniel Jackson and, finally, reluctantly, O’Neill.

"Okay then, it’s going to the Alpha Site. I’ll have a security team deliver it," Hammond added.

"As soon as possible, George," Jacob Carter reminded. "There’s no time to waste if we’re going to find a way to stop Anubis’s new creation. As we saw, he has thousands of them."

"I’ll go along, Sir," O’Neill offered, "just to make sure it doesn’t get hijacked along the way," he was looking pointedly at the Tok’ra.

Hammond nodded. "Right. Get geared up then, Colonel. You’ll leave in half an hour."

**********

Exactly thirty minutes later, O’Neill and the members of SG-3 were standing at the base of the gateramp, waiting, Tal’shak’s device sitting on the bottom step.

The General had returned to the control room. Jack could see him standing behind the gate technician, and finally heard him give Sergeant Davis the order, "Dial it up."

Before Walter’s hand touched his keyboard, however, the gate sprang into life, the first chevron locking with a loud clank. "Unscheduled offworld activation!" Davis announced.

"Close the iris. Go to red alert," Hammond ordered. Grabbing the microphone, "Colonel..." he began.

"Got it, Sir. " Waving at SG-3, Jack shouted, "Back off!" worried that this could be Anubis coming after the device. Leaning down, O’Neill picked up the box, tucking it under his arm as he retreated to the back of the room behind shielding the newly arrived SF squads had just carried in.

As the SGC personnel waited, tension thick in the air, chevrons two, three, four, five and six encoded. "Seventh chevron, locked," Walter declared.

On edge, they waited as long moments passed slowly, weapons up and aimed at the gate.

Seconds ticked slowly past.

"Code coming through, Sir!" Davis’s voice suddenly broke the tense silence. "It’s SG-13."

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered with a sigh of relief. Turning to the men gathered in the gateroom below, "Stand down, people. It’s SG-13."

Jack watched as the wormhole fluttered, and a desert-camo BDU clad figure stepped out, looking around in surprise. The other three members of SG-13 came through just behind the first, and seconds later the wormhole flickered, snapped, and ceased to exist.

"Wow, nice reception committee," Colonel Dixon exclaimed, smiling. "Nice to see you, Jack. Is that my birthday present?" he looked at the box O’Neill was holding.

"Not hardly," Jack answered.

"Something special going on?"

"You’re home early."

"Well, that’s the Marines for you, flyboy. Better, faster, stronger," Dixon smirked.

O’Neill rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, jarhead."

"And your nightmares," Dixon laughed and headed out the door, waving his team to follow him. "Come on boys, it’s time to give the nurses a thrill…"

Jack shook his head and looked up at the control room. "Now that the *children* are home, can we go now, Sir?"

"Yes, Colonel. Dial it up, Sergeant."

The gate activated this time without incident. With a sigh of relief, Jack motioned SG-3 through the gate and followed behind, still carrying the alien device.

*************

Jack O’Neill personally delivered the alien box to the science lab on the Alpha Site, and followed up with a stern lecture to Major Griff and his team about the importance of protecting it. Done with his assigned tasks, he felt a strange reluctance to head back to the SGC. Maybe it was because, for the first time in days, he felt good. His headache had gone away at last, and even the normal back and knee aches he lived with every day seemed to have abated. Maybe it was just relief over his team all getting home, if not in perfect health, at least all alive. And getting out of that damn mountain always seemed to help, too. Fresh air, real sunlight, and a feeling of freedom improved his attitude a lot.

Deciding he could postpone the return trip to the SGC by staging a quick inspection of base security, O’Neill sent SG-3 home.

*********

When the tenth airman showed up in the infirmary in search of ‘something for a headache,’ Doctor Janet Fraiser knew something was wrong. By the time she’d requested Sergeant Siler check air quality and the ventilation system, the headache count was up to 30 and still rising. Virtually everyone on the base reported they’d been feeling great until a couple of hours ago when a headache had started, and that included herself.

Taking a moment to sit down behind her desk, Janet reviewed what she knew, her worry growing. Siler had reported no problems with the SGC’s air supply. She’d checked with the various labs on the base, and none were testing anything new or unusual. And while the complaints were nothing life threatening, something was definitely going on. Was it the first symptom of some virus that had come home with a team? But no teams had returned within the last 12 hours, other than SG-13, and they’d been to an oft-visited planet with a mining operation.

Puzzled but not yet alarmed, Janet called General Hammond and informed him of the situation. "All I can do is continue to watch for additional symptoms, Sir," she told him.

"Do we need to lock down the base?"

"I don’t believe so, General. These are just headaches."

"Keep me informed, Doctor."

"I will, Sir."

*************

Inspection completed, the Colonel really didn’t have a justifiable reason to stick around at the Alpha Site. Not really. Maybe he should go check up on Jacob and the other scientists, Jack decided. Yeah, somebody had to make sure the Tok’ra weren’t scheming to run off with that alien device that was so important. Having made his decision, O’Neill strode quickly across the compound and into the science lab.

The rather ordinary looking box was sitting in the middle of a lab table.

Jacob Carter sat on a chair a few feet away, staring thoughtfully at the quiescent device. He heard the Colonel enter but said nothing, waiting. Finally, without pulling his gaze away from the box he spoke. "So, Jack, you checking up on me?"

"More on your little Tok’ra buddy. Wouldn’t want our prize…thing... to disappear or anything."

"Jack, you know me better than that. I always have Earth’s best interests at heart."

"Oh, really?" Mistrust was plain in O’Neill’s voice, and sarcasm. "Yes, I know. The Tok’ra always take the side of us pitifully young humans."

"I’m human, too, Jack. "

"Are you? I mean, I’ve noticed, your little friend never talks to me. So when I hear your voice, I always sort of wonder, is it really you, or Seltzer pretending to be you?"

Jacob turned around to stare intently into the Colonel’s face. "I know you have little reason to trust the Tok’ra …"

"No reason," O’Neill corrected.

"But I’m not like…"

"Oh, yes, you are. You’ve got one of those snaky things in your head, and who knows what it’s telling you?"

Jacob was taken aback by the vehemence of the man’s words. He knew O’Neill didn’t trust the Tok’ra, and after the incident with Ka’nan, Lord knew the man had good reason. But they’d always worked well together. Sure, a bit of suspicion had reared its ugly head on rare occasions, but very rarely. And never without reason. "Jack, humans and Tok’ra have the same goal here. We’re all doomed if we don’t find a way to stop these new super soldiers."

"Yeah, right. So do you have any answers yet?"

"Jack, I’ve only been studying this device for a few hours. It could take a long time to come up with a weapon…"

"Like what, days?"

Jacob shook his head. "Days, more likely weeks; it could take months or years, or never."

"Oh, that’s helpful."

"Jack, I’m not working magic here. And frankly, I need help. I’ve asked for several Tok’ra scientists to join me, and we need Sam’s help, too."

"You better take better care of her this time then."

"What?"

"I let two of my team go with you on this last mission, and it was damn lucky either one of them made it home in one piece."

The steely set of O’Neill’s jaw and the vehemence in his voice surprised the Tok’ra. "Jack, Sam is my daughter," he reminded placatingly. "No one cares more about her than I do, and no one does more to protect her."

"*When* you’re in charge…"

"Selmak feels the same way I do."

"Really? Or do you just *think* he does?"

Jack stared up at O’Neill, suddenly uneasy. "Jack, I don’t know what your problem is tonight, but I really think you should just go on home and leave the science to us scientists. Get a good night’s sleep and maybe you’ll be less cranky in the morning."

"Maybe I should just take that thing back to Earth with me, then."

"I shouldn’t have to remind you that it’s here by General Hammond’s orders. And I heard your lecture to Griff’s team. No one is going to steal this device, *Colonel*," Jacob emphasized O’Neill’s rank. While he wasn’t a General anymore, technically at least, it wasn’t so long ago Jacob had been one, and he knew how to use the authority those stars provided.

Throwing a withering glare at the Tok’ra, Jack stalked out of the science building.

Night had fallen on the Alpha Site. The base was quiet, but he could hear a guard pacing his watch, and see a pair of SFs near the gate. Considering how little he’d slept last night, which was about zilch, he really ought to take Jacob’s advice. But it rankled, knowing the damn Tok’ra was probably right. He hated it when those sneaky, snaky things were right.

Sighing unhappily, but knowing it was the right thing to do, Jack ordered the gate crew to dial up Earth.

*****************

The minute he stepped out of the wormhole and into the SGC, he felt it, the first throbbing beat of his headache returning.

Crap.

Had he developed an allergy to the place?

Frowning at the nasty pounding in his head, Jack walked down the ramp, handed his P-90 and 9mm Beretta to the SF in charge, and headed for the infirmary to get his post mission clearance.

He was surprised to find Doctor Fraiser still there.

"Working late tonight, Doc?"

She was equally surprised to have him appear in her domain so late in the evening. "Colonel? What are you doing here?"

"I’ll be glad to go…" he turned toward the door.

"Not so fast, Sir. Didn’t you come back from the Alpha Site with the others this afternoon?"

"No. Stayed to check security."

"Right, then. Let’s get your tests done." Business like as always she took his vitals, frowning as she did so. "Colonel, are you feeling okay?"

"Fine," he answered automatically.

"Your pulse and blood pressure are a little elevated. Nothing to be worried about, but not normal." She looked closely at him, noting the fine little lines around his eyes. "Colonel…"

"Okay," he snapped at her. "I have a headache."

Hmmm. Her list of headache patients, which during the afternoon had included nearly everyone on the base, had abated. "When did it start?"

"When I took this job."

She rolled her eyes. "Colonel, I need a straight answer."

He reached a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. "When I came through the gate."

"On a scale of one to…"

"It’s only about a one, Doc."

"Suuure."

"Absolutely."

"You felt fine at the Alpha Site?"

"Yup."

"And the headache started after you came through the gate?"

"That’s happened before."

"I know, Colonel. But today, nearly everyone in the SGC reported headaches."

That piqued his interest, which normally didn’t extend to anything medical. "Something going around?"

"I don’t know. We haven’t had any teams come back today, except SG-13 coming back from the mining colony, and then SG-3 who was with you, and this started before they returned. I’ve looked into environmental factors and haven’t found anything."

"It’s probably from having a Tok’ra around the place."

"Actually, now that you mention it, Colonel, the problem started *after* you and Jacob and the others left. You didn’t notice anything unusual at the Alpha Site?"

"No, Doc, I told you. I felt fine," his voice rose in exasperation.

"Colonel, just relax."

He closed his eyes and reopened them, glaring openly at her. "Can’t I have something for this damn headache?"

"Yes, Sir."

All his tests came up clear, and except for the slight variation in his vitals, attributable to the headache, she could find nothing wrong with the Colonel either. Sighing, she closed the folder of test results and headed back to the exam room where he waited, the picture of annoyed impatience. He was sitting on the edge of a bed, feet swinging, crumpling paper from his chart into mangled spheres he was tossing at the wastepaper basket like they were basketballs. Poorly aimed basketballs, she decided from the amount of debris around the edges of his target. He looked all the world like an over-sized pouting six-year-old, she thought as she stepped back into the room.

"Colonel!"

He didn’t have the good grace to look contrite, just turned to her. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied with an exasperated sigh. "Please do."

Once in the locker room, with near record speed Jack shed his BDUs, showered and changed into his civvies. He signed out with an illegible scrawl and hurried to his truck. Gunning the engine, he pulled out of the parking lot, threw a half-assed return salute at the sentry at the gate, and drove home.

Once he reached his place, and tired as he was, he still couldn’t sleep. Doc’s pills had proven damn worthless, too. The headache hadn’t let up at all; if anything, it had racheted up a notch.

Or two.

Maybe even four.

He tried to make himself sleep, going to bed as usual, but finally, after hours of frustrated tossing and turning, he got up and prowled through the house, too tense to rest. Flipping through the TV channels showed only endless stupid infomercials, and in frustration, he tossed the remote at the screen with such force he heard it crack and fall to the floor in pieces.

"Shit!"

That did it.

Snatching his keys off the table, snaring his jacket from off the back of the chair where he’d tossed it when he came in, Jack stalked out into the darkness, climbed into his truck, and gunning the motor, drove off.

He drove aimlessly, not paying attention to where he was going. The streets were dark, mostly deserted. Once he was out on the open highway, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and watched the big Ford’s speedometer climb past 65 to 75 and 85, hovering around the 90 mark.

He didn’t know how long and how far he might have driven if he hadn’t finally noticed that the little orange warning light had come on, indicating the fuel tank was running low. Pulling off at the next exit, he found an all-night gas station that was still open. Jumping out of the truck, he removed the gas cap, cursing the slow speed with which the fuel pumped. Not waiting for it to fill completely, he put the hose back into place, recapped the tank, and headed into the store.

A young man was behind the counter, looking half asleep. Jack pulled the credit card out of his pocket and slapped it down on the counter.

"Pump one, right?" the kid asked.

"See anyone else out there?" he waved a hand at the otherwise deserted station. "Sheesh, they let a moron like you run this place…"

The kid’s face flushed red. "Mister, there’s no need to insult me…"

"Just hurry it up, would ya?" Scrawling his name on the slip, Jack snatched his card back and strode out of the store. "What the hell is wrong with kids these days?" he muttered under his breath. "Piss poor customer service…."

Back in the truck, he turned back toward Colorado Springs. The sun was just beginning to brighten the sky to the east. There were more cars on the road now as the sun rose and he neared town. Weaving easily in and out of the traffic, he pulled off the four lane and onto city streets, cutting through the edge of town to head out toward the base and its winding road up the mountain.

He ended up behind a Toyota that was crawling along at a speed so slow it shouldn’t be legal. Riding the guy’s bumper, hoping he’d get the message, Jack laid on the horn of the truck.

The Toyota driver obliviously just eased along.

"Idiot," O’Neill muttered. Rounding a curve, he pulled out and went around the small car, giving the driver a one-finger salute as he went by. So engrossed was he in his little gesture that he almost missed the car coming down the hill at him. Jack jerked the wheel savagely to the right, nearly taking the front bumper off the Toyota. "Damn fools."

Arriving at last at the gate to the Cheyenne Mountain complex, the Colonel tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited his turn to show his ID to the guards. By the time he reached the head of the line, he was fuming.

"Colonel O’Neill, Sir," the SF recognized him and smiled in greeting.

"About time, airman. You guys think you could get any slower if you tried?" he snapped.

The smile on the young man’s face froze. "Sorry, Colonel. We’ll try to do better, Sir."

"You damn well better." Stepping down hard on the gas, the truck lurched forward with squealing tires.

"He’s in one hell of a hurry," the SF said to his companion.

"Must be something important going on at the base this morning," the other answered.

*********

Brushing past the line at the check point, Jack flipped open his ID just long enough for the guard to clear him through and pushed his way into the elevator. It was already full of day shift staff reporting for duty in both NORAD and the SGC. Scowling, tapping his fingers against his pant leg, he waited impatiently while the elevator descended, wondering why it was so bleepin’ slow.

Reaching the SGC, Jack disembarked, hurrying to his office.

Sitting down in his chair, he looked around, suddenly wondering why he had been in such a rush to get here, to this cheerless, windowless, boring space. He hated his office. Nothing here but endless mounds of paperwork and four dreary gray walls closing in on him. Just thinking about the hours he wasted in this godforsaken place made his head pound with renewed strength.

Damn freakin’ headache.

Digging into the bottom drawer of his desk, he rummaged through its contents until he found those old migraine pills once again, dry swallowing a pair of them. Sitting back in his chair, he rubbed his hands over his face, massaging his temples.

Neither that nor the pills helped his headache one bit.

His head, in fact, felt more and more like it was going to explode any minute.

He needed to see blue sky and sunshine and breathe clean air, not this contaminated crap 23 stories underground.

Slapping his hands down on the desk in exasperation, he knew just where he needed to go to get away from this place and its stinking miasma of stale, sterile air. Keep an eye on the damn Tok’ra, too, make sure the alien thingy his team had worked so hard to obtain, had risked their lives to get, wouldn’t fall into the hands of those snakes.

Yeah, sure, they *said* they were Tok’ra, but what were they really? A snake was a snake. As he’d learned the hard way.

Taking a quick look at his watch, Jack remembered that a team of scientists was heading out this morning to work at the Alpha Site. If he hurried, he could probably get to the gateroom. Leaving his office door open in his haste, he sprinted down the hallway, personnel scattering in his wake as he bulled his way through the busy hallways. He felt the subtle vibration in the walls as the gate was being dialed up. Perfect, his timing was perfect.

The blue glow of the wormhole was visible as he came around the last corner and paused just outside the gateroom. Two FREDS were lined up on the ramp, nearly blocking it, while a group of half a dozen or more science geeks stood waiting behind them. A pair of SFs were watching rather languidly from the back wall.

Knowing what he needed to do, Jack charged into the gateroom, straight at Dr. Combs, who stood at the base of the ramp staring at him, mouth open. The Colonel shoved the man out of his way, ignoring the scientist's cry of pain as his arm impacted the railing with an audible crack.

Jack could hear shouting from the control room, what sounded like Hammond’s voice thundering "Colonel O’Neill what the hell do you think you’re…" but the last words were lost as he sprinted up the ramp, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the metal grating. Three long strides and he hit the event horizon, merging into the blue puddle.

He came out on the other side, awkwardly stumbling, catching his balance, slightly stunned at what he had just done, but like a jet on auto-pilot, he kept moving, not thinking, just doing.

The Tok’ra.

That device.

Behind him, he heard the slight sucking sound of other bodies emerging from the gate, shouts as they followed him, but he was already weaving in and out of the stacks of supplies in the compound, moving like a halfback dodging through the defense on his way to the goal line.

He heard someone shout "Stop him!" but he evaded a would-be tackler and reached his goal.

Jacob Carter looked up in stunned surprise as O’Neill raced in the door, snatched the device off the lab table, and wordlessly bolted out the back door.

The Tok’ra’s stunned "What…? Jack?" followed him out the door.

Still running, O’Neill clambered up the sandy dune and toward the trees. From the corner of his eye he saw his pursuers burst out of the door, someone ordering "Halt!" but he ignored the command.

He was almost in the woods now, just another fifty yards or so. Sure, he was older and had creaky knees and a less than perfect back, but no way they were going to catch him, not all geared up with 100 lbs. of kit like they were, he thought smugly.

They weren’t going to catch him.

The trees were only a dozen strides away when he heard the snap and whine of the first bullets whistling over his head.

He smiled.

They weren’t going to shoot him.

He was the legendary Colonel O’Neill. They wouldn’t…

Something punched him in the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. Without stopping, clinging to the box he carried, he hit and rolled, back up onto his feet without hardly missing a stride. Listing strongly to the left, blood running hot and thick down his arm to form tiny puddles in the dirt, he reached the shelter of the trees, and ran on and on.

He hadn’t run like this in years, not since his first knee surgery, so long ago he could hardly remember the sheer joy of pain-free movement. His shoulder throbbed, but the pounding in his head was gone, and in comparison, the little tear in his shoulder was nothing, nothing at all.

He thought he could run forever.

It took only a few minutes to outpace his pursuers, leaving them far behind.

Pausing at last, Jack O’Neill looked down at the wound in his shoulder, knowing it was odd that it didn’t really hurt, watching the gaudy red blood pump out slowly and trickle down his arm. He stared, fascinated, as each perfect bright drop slowly rolled across his skin.

**************

"What the hell just happened here people?" General Hammond demanded, staring down into the chaotic scene of the gateroom. A medic was helping Dr. Combs to his feet, while the other scientists milled around in confusion.

"I don’t know, Sir," said Davis the gate technician, as stunned as everyone around him.

"Send a radio message through to the Alpha Site," the General ordered.

"Yes, Sir, I’m in contact with them already, General, they’re asking what happened."

A harried looking SF stood before the MALP’s camera.

"What’s going on there?" Hammond demanded.

"Sir, Captain Williams and four SFs have gone in pursuit of Colonel O’Neill. That *was* Colonel O’Neill, Sir, wasn’t it?" the young soldier asked.

"As far as I know. Where is he now?"

"He’s taken off, General. After taking something from the science lab."

"What?"

"He ran into the lab, took that device he brought yesterday, and ran into the woods. I’ve heard gunfire, Sir."

"Well, go find out what happened."

"Sir, that would mean leaving the gate undefended," the young man answered.

"Right, son, I’ll…" just then, Hammond spotted Jacob Carter stepping up toward the MALP camera. "Jacob? What’s going on there?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, George. Jack just ran through here like an Olympic sprinter, grabbed up Tal’shak’s device, and ran…"

"What? Has he lost his mind?"

Jacob shrugged. "I don’t know. He didn’t say anything. The SFs ordered him to stop, but he kept running. They fired over his head, and finally the officer in charge of the detail fired. There’s blood. We’re putting together a pursuit team right now."

George Hammond stared, dumbstruck. What had happened to O’Neill? "Get Doctor Fraiser up here, now."

********

Within minutes, SG-3 had gone through the gate, and the three remaining members of SG-1 and Doctor Fraiser had gathered in the briefing room.

"What do we know, people?" Hammond demanded without preamble.

"Nothing, Sir," said Carter.

"I haven’t seen Jack since yesterday," Daniel noted.

"I have not spoken with O’Neill today," Teal’c added.

The General turned to the base’s Chief Medical Officer. "Doctor? Could this be related to our headaches yesterday?"

"Well, Sir, I suppose it could be. After all, Colonel O’Neill did report one when he returned last night."

"And you sent him home?"

"There was no reason to keep him, General. After all, the others reported their headaches clearing within a few hours yesterday."

Hammond was glaring at the diminutive physician. "So why did he just *run* through the gate, in civilian clothes no less, take the box you recovered in Central America, and run off with it?"

"Perhaps O’Neill discovered there was some danger connected to the device, putting the base at risk," Teal’c proposed.

"I don’t think so," Daniel was frowning at the tabletop in concentration. "I can’t imagine why. We had the box for days and it didn’t do anything, other than when Raphael turned it on."

"And it’s been off ever since?" Hammond asked.

"Yes," Jackson insisted. "Definitely."

Major Carter was looking slightly pale, her arm still in the sling, her forehead creased with thought. "You’re *sure* it was off Daniel?"

"Absolutely. It was unmistakable when it was on."

The Major was staring at the table.

"Sam?" Daniel asked softly.

She raised her eyes, the orbs huge and round. "What if that box was giving off some sort of energy?"

"Radiation?" Hammond asked.

"No, Sir…"

"Sam, it was off," Daniel insisted.

"JacobCarter stated that he sensed something unusual in the vicinity of the device," Teal’c reported.

"And there were all those headaches reported yesterday," the SGC physician recalled.

"Were there any other erratic behaviors reported?" Hammond asked.

"None, Sir," Janet answered, worried she’d missed something important. "Colonel O’Neill did have a headache. And his vitals *were* up a bit, but nothing that would have led anyone to suspect he’d do something like this."

"That device did do some pretty strange things to the men who kidnapped us," Daniel reminded.

Hammond was looking at each of the people in front of him. "But if it was caused by Tal’shak’s box, why wouldn’t all of us have been affected? Why only Colonel O’Neill?"

"I don’t know, Sir," Janet started slowly, her mind racing through the possibilities. Suddenly, an idea began to take shape. She looked over at the Major. "Sam, you said the device has properties similar to a sarcophagus?"

"That’s what Dad and I theorized," she answered.

"It did heal people. Sort of," Daniel added. "So, what?" he looked expectantly at the tiny physician.

"If it’s like a sarcophagus…"

"It would be addictive!" Sam had latched onto the same idea. "Sir," she turned to Hammond, "the headache symptoms experienced here yesterday could have been slight cases of sarcophagus addiction withdrawal. "

"That doesn’t make any sense," Daniel countered. "We should all have been affected."

"Unless it has a greater effect on those who have already been addicted." Teal’c postulated.

"I didn’t have anything more than a headache," the archaeologist argued, "and I was around that thing longer than Jack."

"Not that much. He brought it back here with you," Janet reminded. "And Daniel, you were taking medication for your injuries. That could have countered and hidden any withdrawal symptoms…"

"And yesterday, the Colonel carried that box through the gate," Hammond noted.

"He was *carrying* it?" Daniel asked.

"Yes. And Daniel, it was years ago when you had your… problems with the sarcophagus," Janet said. "Maybe the effect lessens over time. It was much more recently, less than a year ago, that the Colonel was exposed."

"So?" Hammond asked, looking around the table for suggestions.

"We need to get the Colonel away from that device. The sooner the better," Janet insisted.

******************

He felt… he felt… good. Very, very incredibly good.

He felt free, free of pain, free of worry, free of guilt, free of all the encumbrances of rank and duty and the military. He had the sudden urge to turn cartwheels or burst into song or whistle, for cryin’ out loud.

He felt young.

He felt strong.

He felt invincible.

He felt like he hadn’t felt since he couldn’t remember when, maybe ever in his whole life.

Good God, what a feeling!

Jack O’Neill laughed with pure joy.

Traveling on at a steady but now more sedate pace, O’Neill moved beyond the area SG teams had previously explored on the planet. Totally unconcerned about the possible dangers of being alone in unknown territory, he continued forward, oblivious to the gradual but steady increase in altitude. He was in a range of hills now, and if he had looked back, he could have seen, far below and behind him, the valley containing the Stargate and the Alpha Site. He could also have seen the search and rescue team gathering to pursue him.

****************

SG-3 had the lead on the search and rescue mission, with Teal’c as tracker, and volunteers from three other units joining the group. Both Daniel Jackson and Major Carter had also requested the assignment, but that was nixed by Dr. Fraiser due to their injuries. The ninth member of the group was the diminutive physician herself, insisting she was needed because no one knew what medical condition to expect when Colonel O’Neill was found.

The tracks weren’t hard to follow. O’Neill had uncharacteristically not bothered to try to conceal them. At the same time, it was obvious to the former First Prime that his team leader was moving at a very swift pace. "He is many hours ahead of us," Teal’c informed Colonel Reynolds.

"Hours? How can that be?"

"I believe O’Neill was running, here," the Chulakian pointed to the tracks.

"O’Neill, running, this far?" Reynolds was incredulous. "Okay, I’ve heard his knees cracking just when he gets up from a table in the cafeteria. There’s no way he could have run this far. Hell, Teal’c, we’re miles from the gate."

"Indeed, ColonelReynolds, it does not seem possible, but it is true."

"The device apparently affects humans like a sarcophagus," Fraiser reminded the others. "He wouldn’t be bothered by the pain."

***********

He had reached the end of the line.

Not that he couldn’t go on, he could have gone on and on forever, it felt like. But Jack had nonetheless come to the end of the road.

Quite literally.

The last steep hill he had effortlessly climbed had proven to be the edge of a cliff. The ground dropped away in a sheer fall of hundreds of feet down to a raging river. It reminded him of Earth’s Grand Canyon, only greener. With a sigh, he sank down on a ledge that overlooked the huge canyon, thinking he’d never in his life seen anything quite so astonishingly beautiful. He let his eyes drink in the scene. Finally, he dozed.

***********

Impatient as they were to carry on, the S&R party was forced to stop when darkness fell. They resumed the trail at first light, Teal’c’s normally impassive face showing the worry he felt for the man he called "brother."

"Teal’c, we will find him," Doctor Fraiser tried to be reassuring.

The former First Prime nodded in his regal way, the worry lines still evident around his eyes. "He is capable of traveling much faster than we are able to follow. I fear we will be unable to apprehend him."

She didn’t voice her worries, but Janet Fraiser was worried about the same.

*************

Bored with sitting and watching, Jack started throwing rocks. Too bad there wasn’t a pond for skipping stones, but tossing baseball sized rocks off the ledge, out into the clean air, hoping to see them splash into the river far below was pretty cool.

The day grew warmer and he didn’t stop to wonder that he wasn’t hungry or thirsty. He was hot, though, so he shed the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was all stiff and sticky with the rusty red blood on his left shoulder, though the shoulder felt fine now. Didn’t hurt at all, just itched where the blood was caked on it.

Lying down on the carpet of grass now, he stared up at the sky and watched the clouds glide overhead, trying to find some pattern in their shape. It had been a long time since he’d spent a carefree afternoon like this, he thought with a contented sigh.

And then the birds arrived.

Well, he called them birds, though whether the alien things were birds or bats or some other creature, he didn’t know or care. They had wings, and they flew, and they made noise, loud, grating, annoying noise. Not a ‘caw’ like a crow, but a high pitched whistle-like whine that set his teeth on edge.

Damn things.

They’d come soaring in on the thermals and circled several times before landing on a nearby rock, studying him with beady eyes as they screeched out their raucous calls.

Disrupting his pleasant contemplations.

Ruining his perfect day.

Making his head ache.

He felt his temper rising, felt his blood pressure rising, felt his annoyance build into rage. Forming a plan, he moved stealthily so as not to startle them, his hands reaching out until the long fingers clasped one of the pile of small rocks.

Still flat on the ground, he flung the first one with amazing speed and absolute precision. The bird didn’t even have time to squawk, it was dead before it fell to the ground.

He would have killed them all if he hadn’t run out of rocks, which just made him even more angry as the last of them escaped into the sky.

If only he’d had his P-90 he could have slaughtered every last one of them.

Furious at those that had escaped, he stalked over to the bodies of those he’d downed with his well aimed missiles. With his bare hands, he made sure each and every one was stone cold dead, snapping their necks like twigs.

Angry now, too angry to sit back down and enjoy the day, he stood on the edge of the cliff and roared out his frustration.

That’s where they found him, standing on the rock ledge, his face contorted with anger, a dozen bloodied dead bird-creatures lying on the rocks nearby.

He heard their approach, their whispered conversations, and smiled.

He would have a chance to vent his rage.

Jack felt his muscles twitch in anticipation.

He knew why they were here, he knew what they had come to steal.

And he would not let them have it.

"He is acting strangely," Teal’c whispered to the others as they crouched just below the crest of the hill, planning their moves to apprehend the Colonel.

"We know the device had strange effects on those men in South America," Doctor Fraiser explained.

"But the device was turned on then, right?" Reynolds asked, still keeping his voice low.

"Yes. But we’ve theorized that it may be giving off a residual energy…" she reminded him.

Captain Ellis of SG-3 had pulled a measuring device from his pocket, nodding in agreement. "I’m getting some low level energy readings of a kind I’ve never seen before, Doctor."

"So why aren’t we all acting weird?" Reynolds demanded.

"Because you haven’t spent extended amounts of time in a sarcophagus. As did Colonel O’Neill last year," Teal’c explained.

"Last *year*?" Reynolds was incredulous.

"The sarcophagus is extremely powerful, its effects are long-lasting," Teal’c added. "Tal’shak’s box we believe may be an even more powerful device."

"Are we in danger?" Reynolds was still worried.

"I don’t think so, Sir," Fraiser qualified her answer. "But we do need to be careful. And we have to get the Colonel away from that device."

Teal’c’s expression was grim. "I do not believe he will give it up willingly."

***************

The rescue team moved into position, forming a semi-circle around the Colonel’s position. Finally, when they were all in place, Teal’c stepped forward. "O’Neill," he called out softly, emerging from the trees into the open.

Jack spun to face the Jaffa, a feral grin on his face, his dark eyes clouded. Teal’c could see the excess energy flowing through the lean frame, the jittery hand movements, the eyes that would not fix on him, but slid past, darting back and forth erratically.

"Teal’c." There was no warmth in the greeting. A lesser man than the Chulakian would have shivered at the cold tone.

"I have come to take you back to Earth, O’Neill."

"Ah, nope. Nada. Non. Nix that. Ain’t goin’."

"You must, O’Neill. You are not well."

The man laughed. "Oh, that’s a good one, buddy. I’m not well? I’ve never felt so good in all my life. I’m perfect!"

"You are not, O’Neill. Your mind and body are being adversely affected by Tal’shak’s device."

The brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You just want it for yourself."

"I do not. It is needed to help the Tau’ri defeat the new super soldiers created by Anubis."

"Liar!" spat O’Neill.

"I do not lie." Teal’c kept his voice level and calm.

"What about them?" Jack waved a hand toward the trees. "If you’re not a liar, why did you bring them?"

"They are only here to help."

O’Neill laughed bitterly. "Right. Here to help you *steal* what is mine."

"It is not yours, O’Neill."

"Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"It was not lost. *You* stole it."

"Doesn’t matter. It’s mine now." Jack was standing next to the innocent looking square metal box, sounding all the world like a recalcitrant three-year old. "And *you* can’t have it."

"I do not want it."

"Trying to play word games with me, are you, Teal’c? Well, they won’t work. I know what you’re after, and you can’t have it!" O’Neill stepped belligerently forward, the look in his eyes one of rage.

"You must allow me to take the box…" Teal’c took a stride closer to his CO.

Jack lunged toward the Jaffa.

Reynolds stood, brought up his gun, and fired the zat.

The sparkling blue of discharging energy danced around the Colonel’s tall frame, his face contorting, his body writhing, the charge driving him to his knees, but he didn’t stay down. Even as Teal’c’s hands reached out to grasp Tal’shak’s box, O’Neill was diving at the bigger man, tackling him with a shout of rage that echoed across the clearing.

Reynolds, stunned, very nearly pulled the trigger on the zat a second time. Not knowing what would happen, fearing the worst, he tossed the weapon aside and drew his pistol. "Colonel O’Neill! Stop!"

Jack ignored the command. Wrestling Teal’c for possession of the alien box, the two of them rolled over and over in a tangle of arms and legs, ever closer to the cliff’s edge. Suddenly, O’Neill tore the box out of the Jaffa’s grasp.

"Halt!" Reynolds shouted once again, once more with no effect.

In fact, the Colonel seemed even more frantic, turning to run now, along the cliff’s edge.

Reynolds fired a pair of warning shots over O’Neill’s head but the man seemed totally unfazed.

With a muttered prayer for forgiveness, Reynolds’ brought the gunsight down, his finger squeezing the trigger a third time. The bullet took O’Neill in the shoulder, spinning him around, blood flying as he staggered and fell, still clutching the box. Crawling now, but still heading for the cliff’s edge, a terrifying wild-eyed look revealing what he was about to do.

"Stop him!" screamed Janet Fraiser.

Teal’c was too far away, Reynolds, too.

Janet dug hastily through her pack, tearing open the wrapping around the syringe as she ran for the downed man.

"O’Neill!" Teal’c’s shout drew Jack’s gaze toward the Jaffa.

"Stay away…"

Distracted by Teal’c, the Colonel didn’t hear the doctor’s approach. Too late, he sensed someone near him, but Doc’s aim was true, the needle stabbing through the cloth and on into the flesh of his thigh as she pushed the plunger, giving him the full dose.

"Nooooo!" he roared, swinging one fist at her, knocking her aside even as the tranquilizer hit his system.

Picking herself up off the ground, spitting blood from where his blow had split her lip, Fraiser saw his eyes glaze over, his movements grow clumsy and unsure and he slumped over.

She ran back to him, even as Reynolds took the box from his grasp.

"Get that thing away from here, Colonel," Doc ordered, getting down on her knees to tend to her patient.

"Yes, Ma’am." Reynolds handed it over to two of his men, then turned back to the downed officer.

Teal’c was kneeling at O’Neill’s side, beside the doctor who was already applying a dressing to the profusely bleeding shoulder wound.

Reynolds felt a momentary pang of regret. He hadn’t wanted to shoot the man, but there’d been no choice. The General’s orders had been clear, secure the box at all costs.

"Colonel?" Doc’s face went suddenly pale, her fingers probing at his wrist, then moving to his throat. "Damn, he’s going into shock. We could lose him here. Teal’c, get his feet elevated. Reynolds, that tree limb, over there, get it under his legs. Move!"

O’Neill’s pulse was weaker, his skin clammy, his breathing growing shallower even as she worked frantically to save him, trying to understand why he was crashing. "Damn you, Colonel, don’t you quit on me." He hadn’t lost enough blood to cause this, was it the tranquilizer on top of the zatting? There hadn’t been time to measure the dose, to consider what the effects of one thing in combination with the other might be, in addition to his already weakened condition. Had she, in trying to save him, killed him? "Colonel, hold on. I didn’t come all the way out here to lose you, Sir," but he wasn’t listening. She was losing him and she knew it.

His pulse was almost non-existent, his breathing, too.

Colonel O’Neill was seconds away from dying.

Suddenly, she knew the answer. Janet swung back to Reynolds. "Get the box back here!"

"What?"

"Tal’shak’s box. It’s got healing abilities."

"But he’s addicted."

"Addicted and alive I can deal with…"

Reynolds grabbed his radio. "Darnell, Gallagher, get that box back here on the double! Now!"

Janet heard the men running back toward them, even as she felt O’Neill respond. She held her breath as the Colonel’s pulse grew stronger, his breathing stabilized, and the heartbeat steadied into a regular rhythm.

She sat back on her heels, feeling drained... one problem solved, one left to deal with. "Let’s get him home."

*************

She’d been keeping the Colonel heavily sedated for the past three days, since the General had sent the alien device back to the Alpha Site. His shoulder wound, thanks to the effects of the box, was almost completely healed. Amazingly, she’d even been able to take the stitches out. Today, it was time to start backing off on the meds, letting him emerge from the drug-induced coma, and deal with the withdrawal symptoms.

Sighing, Janet walked up to the bed and placed a hand on the Colonel’s arm. The next 48 hours wouldn’t be pleasant for either one of them, or anyone else around the infirmary, but they were necessary. She’d learned that in her previous encounters with Goa’uld technology addiction. She knew O’Neill was strong, and that he would once again win in the end, but that the battle would take its toll on his already burdened psyche. "I’m sorry, Colonel," she whispered, and nodded at the orderly who fitted the leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. Once they were in place, she reached up and dialed down the dosage on his IV.

Within minutes, even before he opened his eyes, O’Neill began moving restlessly, aimless, disjointed movements.

"Colonel, can you hear me?" Fraiser asked.

"Hmmmm," the gray haired officer tried to answer, his jaw working, tongue licking dry lips, a slight sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead above the brown eyes that flickered but did not stay open.

"Colonel, this is Doctor Fraiser. You are in the SGC infirmary. Do you remember what happened?"

"What?"

"You were addicted to the effects of the alien device, Tal’shak’s box. Do you remember, Colonel?"

"Box?" he rasped, still fighting to lift the weighted eyelids.

"Yes, Colonel, the box was addictive. Like a sarcophagus."

At that, the brown eyes popped wide open, the hands lifting, hitting the end of the restraints with a jerk. He lifted his head in surprise, looking down his arms to see the padded cuffs. "Doc?" For a moment, she thought he looked both bewildered and hurt.

"I’m sorry about the restraints, Sir, but until the addictive effects of the alien device have worn off, those are General Hammond’s orders." She remembered Daniel and how violent he'd been, desperate to get back to the sarcophagus on Shyla's planet. And he didn't have a tenth of the deadly combat training and experience of the Colonel.

The silver-haired head dropped back onto the pillow. "What did I do?" he asked softly.

"You, ah, went through the Stargate to the Alpha Site, and took the device."

"Oh," his voice was soft. The eyes opened once more, fighting to focus on her face.

"That was three days ago. I’ve kept you sedated through the worst of the withdrawal period, but you’ll have to…"

"Release me, huh, Doc? Please. I won’t do anything, I promise," he was using his best Boy Scout look, the wheedling, pleading, appeal that worked most times, though rarely with her.

Even though she knew she was doing the right thing, it took all of her willpower to say no to him. She wanted to release him, she really did. She hated seeing the Colonel like this, and she knew how much he would hate this, and possibly her, when it was all over and done. Janet knew that under even the best of circumstances, he would have trouble coping with the restraints, keeping still wasn’t something he ever did willingly or well.

Standing firm, she took a step closer to the bed. "Colonel, I can’t…"

Without warning, his arm snapped out toward her. Only the short tether on the bindings saved her, his hand grasping empty air only inches from her arm as she jumped back. "Let me go!" instantly, the voice had turned from pleading to an angry roar. He pulled savagely against the restraints, kicking out with his feet, jerking his arms so hard she was afraid he’d hurt himself. "Untie me, damn it!"

"Sir, I can’t…"

"I’m ordering you…"

"No, Sir, General Hammond ordered this. I can’t release you."

The brown eyes flashed angrily. "You’ll be sorry! You’ll pay for this. All of you." He was still fighting, sweat popping out on his forehead, his eyes looking wild and out of control as he jerked and pulled on the bindings. Gone was the gentle man who played uncle to her daughter, or the quiet man who teased her, or even the grumpy one who complained when she kept him in the infirmary, replaced by someone who, quite frankly, scared her.

Despite her feelings, she kept her voice firm and controlled. "Colonel, please stop, you’ll only hurt yourself."

"Let…me…go!" he demanded, frantically, lifting his shoulders off the bed even as he struggled to reach for the buckles that held the cuffs in place.

Janet stood her ground and kept her voice even, though she was quaking inside. "Colonel, I don’t want to have to give you more sedatives, but if you don’t get yourself under control, I will," she told him, her voice steely.

His frantic writhing slowed as he fell back onto the sheets, exhausted. "Please, Doc," he pleaded. "Don’t leave me like this. Doc, it’s… it’s wrong."

"I’m sorry, Sir. Not until you’re through this."

"Doc…" his voice had dropped, softer now, no longer shouting and angry but sullen.

"Colonel, I’ll be here with you every step of the way, your team, too…"

"No!" His eyes closed, then opened again slowly as he stared up at the ceiling. "No. I don’t want them to see…"

"I understand, Sir, and that’s a request I can grant," she said kindly. "We’ll get through this together, Colonel, I promise."

Hour after hour, it went on with no change.

Sometime after midnight, when he was in one of his quiet periods and appeared to have dozed off, Janet took the opportunity to leave the room. Stepping into the corridor, she nearly tripped over a figure sprawled in a chair he had commandeered from somewhere. "Daniel?"

The archaeologist pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose, sitting up straighter. "How is he?"

"He’s quiet at the moment, but there’s no change yet." The physician smiled thinly. "You should go home and rest."

"I could sit with him for a while," Daniel offered.

Janet reached down and patted the young man’s arm. "I’m sorry. He asked that no one from his team see him like this, and you know in the end it *would* only make him feel worse."

"Why? God, I’ve been there, where he is. He sat with me, through the worst of it, even after I tried to kill him..." he let the sentence trail away.

"I know. But his pride is often all that stands between him and failure…"

"It stands between him and his friends, too."

"Yes, it does." She sighed. "Maybe tomorrow, he’ll be ready to let you in."

Daniel shook his head. "He doesn’t let anybody in, Janet."

He was right, of course. The Colonel had always fought his internal battles alone. "Just give him time. He’ll be all right." Or so she hoped.

"Will he?"

"He’s strong, Daniel."

"Even the strongest have their breaking points."

That wasn’t what she needed to hear, she thought tiredly, but it was the truth.

***************

He had been sleeping, but it hadn’t helped, not in the slightest. His head hurt, aching fiercely with a steady, throbbing beat that made even the thought of opening his eyes not in any plan for his immediate future. His whole body ached, come to think of it, like he’d had the worst case of flu ever.

Or maybe he’d just been run over by a bus.

A whole fleet of buses, big, huge, honkin’ overloaded, double-sized, triple-decker buses.

Jack tried to pull his hands up to cradle his aching skull, but for some reason, they weren’t working very well. They seemed abnormally heavy, and he could feel them shaking. Worst of all, he could only move them a little ways before they stopped, refusing to answer his commands. Stretching out his fingertips, he still couldn’t reach his temples, no matter how hard he tried.

"Colonel, relax, it’s okay," a soft, familiar voice spoke soothingly, and then a wet and cool cloth was applied to his forehead.

He turned his head toward the gentle touch. "Where?" he mumbled, licking his dry lips.

"You’re in the infirmary, Sir. It’s Nurse Lee. Would you like some water?"

"Yes."

A hand touched his chin, steadying the straw against his lips and he swallowed the liquid, savoring the feel of it cooling the raw tissues of his throat.

It was easier to talk now, now that his tongue didn’t feel like sandpaper and his throat like a desert. "What happened?"

"You don’t remember?"

He felt a momentary surge of panic, that he didn’t know something the nurse obviously thought he should know, but that just made the blood in his head thunder more loudly through his veins. Not wise. Relax, he told himself. "Don’t."

"It’s okay. You’ll remember when you’re feeling better."

He knew there was truth in that statement. "Hit my head?" he suggested hopefully.

"In a way, Sir."

That seemed odd. Either you hit your hit or you didn’t. He chanced an attempt at raising his eyelids, but the moment light touched his eyeballs, it felt like his whole brain spasmed. "Arrrgghhh." Once again, instinctually, his hands flew toward his head but were jerked roughly to a dead stop as if…

…Crap…

…As if he was tied…

Restrained.

Despite the pain he knew it would cause, he raised his head and shoulders and opened his eyes mere slits, but enough to look down toward his hands. Blinking against the glare of the too-bright lights, in the split second he could stand to keep his lids open, he saw the cuffs around his wrists.

He’d been put in restraints.

He closed his eyes and slumped back on the bed, exhausted by that one small effort. "What did I do?" he asked softly.

"Nothing bad, Sir."

"Right. Then why the…" he couldn’t think of the word, probably because his head was about to split in two, "why the… bracelets?"

"To make sure you didn’t harm yourself, Sir."

"Harm myself? Who did I hurt?" he must have done something awful to someone, to be treated like this.

"You hurt no one, Colonel."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Tell me what happened then."

"Doctor Fraiser will be back soon…"

"Tell me now." He had to know. He couldn’t remember, but he had to know, had to know if he’d hurt anyone, or if he’d done anything irredeemably stupid. Obviously, he’d done something or he wouldn’t be all trussed up like he’d been back when most of the base had been infected with that barbarian Neanderthal plague from the Land of Light. "Please," he added, softly.

"You went through the Stargate without authorization…"

He remembered doing that before, going to the coordinates Daniel had told them about, but that was a long time ago, years ago, years and years ago…

"…to the Alpha Site, where you took an alien device."

Oh crap. He remembered now. He’d wanted the box, no, actually, he had desperately needed the box for some inexplicable reason.

He heard more footsteps then, chanced another quick look to see that Doc was there now. The nurse must have pressed the call button. Fraiser looked tired and worn out, but she was smiling, which was always a good sign, because she never smiled when he was on the verge of dying. Which he felt like he was, considering the state of his head, and how weak and shaky and dysfunctional the rest of him felt.

"Colonel," Fraiser’s voice sounded pleased. "I’m glad you’re awake. Asking questions, are you, Sir? Lee has told you what happened."

"Not enough," he complained.

He heard her take a deep breath and then she told him the rest. "Talshak’s box produced a highly addictive reaction in you."

"Who else?" The black on the inside of his eyelids was comforting, he decided. And it meant he didn’t have to look into Doc’s eyes and see the pity he feared was there.

"Who else was addicted?" she repeated, her voice sounding odd, as if she didn’t want to answer.

"Who?" he was worried. "Daniel okay?"

"Daniel is fine. No one else was affected by the box, except for slight headaches."

"Huh?"

He heard her whisper something, then footsteps leaving, the nurse going out he hoped. Then a scraping sound, Doc pulling up a chair, he’d bet. "Colonel, you were affected because you were in close contact with the box…"

"But it was off…"

"Yes, it was off, so that no one was affected in the same way the men who kidnapped Daniel and Doctor Lee were. But there were residual emissions from the device which we didn’t discover until it was too late."

"Too late?"

"Too late to prevent it," she hesitated, "too late to prevent it from affecting you."

He lay still, aching all over, every muscle and bone and bit of tissue feeling like it had been hammered flat. "Why me?"

Doc sighed. "You were strongly affected, we believe, because you are the only person on base who was previously recently addicted to a sarcophagus."

"Recently?" despite his exhaustion, he knew his voice sounded skeptical.

"Yes, Sir. I know it was a year ago when," she stopped, knowing his reluctance to talk about such things, not wanting to reawaken the demons of what she knew was one of the most horrible experiences in his life full of events that would have long ago destroyed a weaker man.

"When I enjoyed Beachball’s hospitality…" he filled in, his voice whisper soft.

"Yes, Colonel."

He was quiet a long time, so long she would have thought he’d fallen asleep, except for the ragged tone to his breathing. "My shoulder hurts."

"You were shot."

"What?"

"Major Reynolds had to shoot you, in order to prevent you from escaping with the box. The one positive effect of that box, Sir, is that your wound healed in record time."

"Lovely."

"Colonel," she laid her hand on his arm now, where it felt warm and soothing and comforting. "You’re through the worst of it."

"Where’s the damn thing?"

"Off world. Back at the Alpha Site. Jacob and Sam rigged up some type of dampening field to absorb the emissions, so they could work safely on it."

"That’s good." He sighed. He didn’t want anyone feeling like he felt at the moment, about two steps lower than dead.

"You’ll be fine, Colonel."

The words spilled out before he could stop them, wistful and anxious. "I will?"

"You will," she sounded confident now. "You will."

………(The End)………