Views of the Abyss: Dr. MacKenzie

Author: BadgerGater

Email: [email protected]

Category: POV; Epilogue scene to S6 episode, Abyss; Part of my Views of the Abyss Series

Warnings: None

Pairing: None

Season: Six

Spoilers: Abyss and before

Rating: PG

Summary: After all that happened with Kanan and Ba'a'l, Jack has to pass one more test before going back to SG-1

Disclaimer: I don't own SG-1 and acknowledge the rights, privileges and power of those that do; I'm just borrowing the characters , and will faithfully return them.

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Frankly, I was surprised that he even agreed to see me. Of course, since I am the psychiatrist assigned to oversee the mental health of all participants in the Stargate program, Colonel Jack O'Neill had little choice in the matter. If he wanted to go back on active duty, O'Neill needed me to sign off on his medical report. He could, however, have requested another doctor, although honestly, I don't think he likes any medical professional, including all psychiatrists.

That's not uncommon among the general public, and even more common among military personnel, especially career military, and most especially combat career military.

I honestly wasn't expecting to accomplish much with a session with Colonel O'Neill, but it was required before he could go back on active duty. Knowing what had transpired, that he had accepted the implantation of a Tok'ra symbiote to save his life, was surprising. Only after I'd read the medical file Dr. Fraiser sent along did I see his reasoning. When informed of the opportunity to have a symbiote save his life, he had refused. Vehemently. And then he was asked to accept the symbiote to allow the Tok'ra to gain vital information the creature carried. Proposed to him as doing his duty, O'Neill had acquiesced.

That seemed to fit his profile. Colonel O'Neill has an exaggerated sense of duty and responsibility. Even for a career senior officer in the Air Force, O'Neill carries his responsibilities to the extreme.

I also knew, from Fraiser's report, that subsequent to the procedure, O'Neill had been taken over by the newly implanted symbiote, taken without his consent to a planet to rescue a female slave, then been wounded and abandoned by the Tok'ra when he/they were captured by a Goa'uld named Ba'al.

O'Neill had been revived in a sarcophagus, and was subjected to its use several times, often enough to become addicted to its narcotic-like effects. Following treatment for the chemical addiction, he'd been declared medically fit for duty by Dr. Fraiser. It was now up to me to decide if he could be declared mentally fit for a return to the SGC.

Quite honestly, I have always doubted the assignment of Colonel O'Neill to this post. Putting a man with his personal and military history into such a dangerous and sensitive, highly top secret position had never seemed sensible to me. However, that choice wasn't mine nor would it ever be. And while I couldn't certify him as insane or unfit, I'd always felt O'Neill and his belligerent, uncooperative attitude was just one miss-step away from disastrous consequences to his own mental health, and probably the physical safety of many others.

I know he is a courageous man. I know he holds the respect, even the admiration of many. In my professional judgment, however, I believe he is on very shaky emotional ground. These recent traumas, combined with the death of one of his teammates just a few months ago, could easily be too much.

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O'Neill walked into my office precisely at 1000 hours, looking fit, clean shaven and defensive.

Wordlessly, I let him come in and he took a chair across the desk from me. Unlike most who come into this office, he met my gaze, in fact, he all but glared at me, fixing me with a hostile 'I dare you' stare.

This was *not* going to be a pleasant session.

I said nothing.

He said nothing.

Playing a waiting game with Colonel O'Neill was not going to be constructive. "Colonel," I said in greeting.

"MacKenzie," he answered, with ill-disguised contempt.

I know the man doesn't like me, and he was reminding me.

I will grant Colonel O'Neill one thing. He does cut right to the chase. No prevarication. No beating around the bush. No games. No pretending.

"It's good to see you, Colonel." After all, it was all but several miracles that the man was still alive.

"I won't pretend the same, Doctor."

Okay. Ground rules established. I was still the bad guy, and he was still not forgiving me for our previous unsuccessful encounters… namely, Dr. Jackson infected by Machello's creatures and Mr. Teal'c after his capture and brainwashing by Apophis. To be honest, neither of those incidents had been among my finest hours.

"I understand, Colonel." I picked up my pen and wrote a few notes on his file in front of me. "Dr. Fraiser's medical report explains that you reluctantly accepted the Tok'ra symbiote."

"Reluctant. Yes, you could say that."

"And how would you say that?"

"I was too sick to know what the hell I was doing at the time."

"Who do you hold responsible?"

"I'm responsible for my own actions, Doctor."

"That's good, Colonel. And how do you feel about it?"

"About what?"

He does like to answer a question with a question, especially when the question strikes close to home. "About the implantation."

O'Neill grimaced. "I don't feel anything. I don't remember."

"Afterward, then."

"Afterwards, I was too busy trying to stay alive."

"And now?"

"Now it's over and done with. In the past."

"No remnants of the Tok'ra remain?"

"Doc Fraiser says it's gone."

"And what do you say?"

"The same."

"Gone physically. Yes. What about the memories it left in your mind?"

"There are none."

"Now, Colonel, we all know that implantation with a symbiote results in a blending of both consciousnesses…"

"We do? You've been blended?"

I frowned. "Colonel, you are attempting to obscure the issue…"

"Oh, really?"

I ignored his attempt at distraction. "Implantation results in a blending of two minds…"

"In this case it didn't." He stated flatly, glaring at me, defying me to prove otherwise.

"Both the Tok'ra and our own medical knowledge say that a blending does merge the minds."

"Well, this time it didn't."

"And why would that be?"

"I don't know. Ask Kanan. He might have the answers. He didn't share them with me."

"Because?"

"I don't know. Maybe because he didn't want to be blended with me any more than I wanted to be blended with him. Maybe he sensed my dislike of him and his snakey kind…"

"Dislike? Only dislike?"

O'Neill shrugged. "Dislike. Hostility. Abhorance. Hatred. Contempt. Chose whichever word you like. They're all true."

"So because of this Kanan didn't complete the blending?"

"I don't know. He didn't tell me what he was thinking."

"And you don't remember anything?"

"Nothing," he insisted.

Now that was a lie. I knew it and he knew it. I knew from Fraiser's report that he had at least known the Tok'ra's name, though it *was* possible that sometime during the transfer to the Tok'ra base or in their medical center, that he could have heard the name and remembered it.

This was not going well. I was getting nowhere, and we both knew it. "Colonel, since this unfortunate event, how do you feel about the Tok'ra?"

"They're Earth's allies. How *I* feel about them is unimportant."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Will you be able to work with them?"

"I've worked with them before."

"Will you trust them?"

"No." He added quickly, "And I didn't trust them before, either."

"How can you work with them if you don't trust them, Colonel?"

"The same way I work with you."

Touche', O'Neill. Clever man, when he wants to be. Hides his intelligence behind that façade of the dumb soldier routine. That's the way it is with a lot of these Special Ops types. They become so efficient at hiding the truth in their work, that they soon can't do otherwise, no matter the situation.

I stared at him assessingly.

He raised his chin and stared back.

"Do you think you are you ready to go back to work, Colonel?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that?"

"I know."

"You were addicted to the sarcophagus. What would happen if you came upon one on your next mission?"

He shrugged. "That's unlikely."

"But it could happen."

"I imagine so."

"And?"

"And if I could get my hands on it, I'd bring it back. It could save a lot of lives around here."

"You have no desire to use it yourself?"

"No."

Did I just see him shiver? "Sure of that, Colonel?"

"Absolutely."

I tapped my pencil against the desktop. "Colonel, I think you're in denial."

"Never been to Egypt."

"And I think there's more to this whole incident than you are telling me, or anyone else."

He said nothing.

"Anything you'd like to tell me, Colonel O'Neill?"

"No. Nothing you don't already know."

I stared at him once more, studying him intently. He sat, staring back at me. And that was the thing. He was still, perfectly still. O'Neill is *never* still. His hands are always moving, playing with something, his foot tapping or his fingers drumming. His stillness was unnerving.

He said nothing.

Finally, after several long moments, I sighed. Our time was up. "Good day, Colonel."

He all but jumped to his feet. "All done then, Doc, huh? Gee, time sure flies when you're having fun," and he turned and was gone.

********

I watched his hurried departure, then sat quietly at my desk, collecting my thoughts before starting to jot down notes. After just a few moments, my phone buzzed. "Lieutenant, I asked not to be disturbed."

"It's General Hammond, Sir."

"I'll call him back."

"He's on his way into your office, Colonel…."

She hadn't finished her sentence before my door opened and General George Hammond entered.

I stood. "Have a seat, General."

"No thanks, Doctor."

"What can I help you with, Sir?"

"What's your report on Colonel O'Neill?"

"I haven't had time to finish it."

"What's your recommendation going to be?"

"General, I don't think he should be returned to active duty just yet. Colonel O'Neill was put through several traumatic incidents back to back. Piled on top of the stressful events of the last year and more, I believe he is under extreme duress which could lead to disastrous consequences."

"Such as?"

"A complete breakdown. An attempted suicide. He's been on the verge of it before."

"Six years ago."

"Those issues are still unresolved, and with the current situation piling additional stresses on top of the previous instability…"

"You're saying he's unstable?" Hammond questioned.

"I'm saying I think the man needs some intensive therapy."

Hammond sighed. "I think it's safe to say that any one of us involved with this program could use a little therapy," he said the word with distaste. "However, the fact is, I need Colonel O'Neill, Doctor."

"General?"

"We are in the middle of a war here, Dr. MacKenzie, and Colonel O'Neill is on the front line."

"All the more reason to pull him back before the situation, and his condition, deteriorates."

"Colonel O'Neill has a job to do." Hammond insisted. "Doing that job is the best therapy we can offer him."

"I think it's unwise to send him back through the Stargate with so much unresolved hostility…."

"I think he needs to keep working. Channel his energy. Keep himself occupied."

I shook my head. "Sir, Colonel O'Neill is belligerent, uncooperative, hostile, defensive, secretive and unable or unwilling to talk about most of what occurred. He has *not* faced up to what happened to him, or its possible long-term consequences."

"So, acting like normal for him then." Hammond insisted. "Colonel O'Neill has a proven track record for bouncing back from difficult situations, for coming to terms with events in his own way."

"By burying them deep in his subconscious and refusing to deal with them."

"It works for him."

"It's unhealthy."

"It’s effective."

“General, with all due respect, you are letting your friendship for this officer color your judgement.”

“It’s my friendship with this officer that allows me to see a side of him he will never reveal to you, or any other medical professional,” Hammond countered.

I had the sudden feeling that the General knew something about O'Neill that I didn't, something important neither man would ever reveal. I sighed and, against my better judgment, signed the papers declaring Colonel Jack O'Neill fit for duty, handing them over to General Hammond. "Don't say I didn't warn you, General."

"I'll remember that, Doctor." Hammond turned on his heel and, without another word, left my office.

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