Three Sentinels

By BadgerGater

Summary: Missing Scene, The Sentinel; Jack’s POV: what happened between being zatted and showing up at the Sentinel; and the aftermath, of course

Season: Five

Spoilers: The Sentinel, Proving Ground, Beast of Burden

Rating: PG, Jack’s mouth

Warnings: none, really

Pairing: None

Disclaimer: I don’t own SG-1 or any part of them, much as I wish I did. This is as close as I can get to making ‘em mine.

Author’s Note: Okay, they give us Jack and Grogan obviously whumped and don’t even tell us, much less show us, how? Ack. So here’s a little more of the hurt, and some follow-up comfort.

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There are zats, and then, there are *zats.*

You know, if there was a Guiness Book of Universe Records Category for Human, Most Times Zatted, I think I’d win. Or, considering the category, more like lose.

Getting zatted is no fun, let me tell you.

To get back to my original point, yes, I did have one, not all zats are alike. Surprises you, huh? Well, nothing surprises me anymore, not since I joined the Stargate program and traveled to other worlds and discovered there are lots of nasty bad guys out there all determined to add a USAF Colonel to their trophy collection.

I mean, sometimes getting zatted just stings. Stings a lot, true, but it’s not much worse than getting shocked by that 12 year old string of Christmas lights. Stuns you a moment, and hurts like hell when it does, but it’s basically just your whole body going tingly, like pins and needles when your foot goes to sleep, you know? A minute or so and it’s over. Nasty, but believe me, I’ve been through worse.

And then there *is* worse. Hell, I don’t know, maybe the difference is in a fully charged zat versus one that’s been fired a couple of times and hasn’t recharged. Or maybe zats progressed from Model T’s to Porsches, and some Jaffa have the new models, and some the old. Or some have a top setting on ten versus five, or there’s a wide dispersal versus intensified tight beam effect. Maybe it has to do with how close you’re standing, or where you’re hit. Maybe it’s the temperature or the humidity or the latitude and longitude or what you had for breakfast. I don’t know and I don’t want to be the guinea pig to test out the theories.

I just know that there are times when one of those zats knocks you flat on your ass so hard and so fast you really don’t know what hit you, and your body shudders and quivers and it feels like all your muscles have been melted from the inside out. Your whole body goes into shock, your nerves vibrating like a human tuning fork. Let me tell you, that kind of zatting is *not* on my list of fun things to do while saving the universe.

Neither is waking up like this: on the floor, every nerve and muscle spasming painfully. The cells in your brain flickering on and off like a faulty neon sign, disoriented, your whole body sluggish and unresponsive.

Oh, yeah, just another fun day with SG-1.

So, there I was, zatted. Again. Damn.

While I lay there and quivered like shaken Jello, they went after Grogan. I suppose they figured the young guy was the dangerous one. Okay, that was fine with me, the distraction gave me a minute to try to reconnect my brain to my body and think of something to do beside lay there on the floor like a sodden pancake.

They were still ignoring me, so I strung them along. Play hurt, Jack. Moan and groan a little, convince ‘em you’re hurting. Well, that doesn’t take any acting, and no imagination whatsoever.

Hurt, yes; helpless, no.

I only had a minute or two as the Jaffa were busy demanding Marule help them, tell them about the Sentinel. Stubborn, gutsy little twerp. Standing up to a pissed off Jaffa with a staff weapon isn’t healthy or smart, but it *is* courageous. You go, Marule, keep the big guy occupied, I encouraged silently. Let them forget about me… while I cooked up a diversion and prayed that any second now Carter and Daniel were going to get that damn Sentinel doohickey to work.

With the zat’s effects slowly dissipating, I was regaining control, bit by bit, part by part, as I studied the situation. Too many Jaffa, too few good guys, but hey, what’s a Tau’ri to do? We’re pretty well used to being outnumbered out here in the big, honkin’ universe. So, quality over quantity, I always say. Glancing once more around the room, I noted the Jaffa were watching their boss toy with Marule. Only one had about half an eye on Grogan, and they’d seemed to have forgotten about me completely.

Dumb.

But then, Jaffa aren’t known for their smarts.

Then again, neither am I.

Hoping my legs were up to the task and not still in the jelly stage, I caught Grogan’s gaze. The kids’ eyes went wide, and he nodded imperceptibly, and it was time to go.

I spun into action, rolling left, grabbing for a Jaffa’s zat. I stunned the alien to my left, dropped and rolled back to my right, coming up on my creaky knees in one fluid, if painful, motion, the zat taking down a Jaffa about to shoot Grogan. Sweeping the weapon further to the right, I sought out Mr. Mouthy Head Honcho Jaffa. Damn, I couldn’t get an unobstructed shot. Too many damn Jaffa in the way, too many, way too many.

Even as I searched frantically for my target, I saw Grogan moving, on his feet despite his hands tied in front of him, swinging at one of Suarog’s men, but hampered by his bonds, or maybe the aftereffects of being stunned. He was a shade too slow. I winced as I saw a punch from a gloved Jaffa’s hand connect with the side of his head. Damn, that must have hurt, and I saw the kid stagger but he kept swinging.

Bossman Jaffa was suddenly in my sights, the guy who’d been doing all the talking, making all the threats and in general acting like an overdressed bully-- typical Jaffa, you know. My zat whined and spit blue energy at him even as I detected motion from the corner of my eye. Too late to evade the blow, I had just enough time to roll with the force of it so that the swinging staff weapon clubbed me a glancing blow on the side of my already aching head, rather than breaking my skull.

Everything went black as I hit the floor.

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

I really hate waking up like this.

The Goa’uld have no fashion sense. Chains just don’t go with BDUs. Guess Jaffa haven’t learned how to accessorize.

I was lying on my stomach and my arms were yanked roughly behind my back as I twisted, instinctively trying to break free. A gloved hand cuffed me on the side of the head, and I slumped as the darkness threatened to return again. I couldn’t resist as cold metal was snapped heavily around my wrists.

I thought that would be it, but I thought wrong.

A hand in my hair jerked my head up and then a second Jaffa was putting something around my neck. I surged upward, trying to evade it, to break their iron grip, but a knee slammed into the middle of my back, forcing me downward, my chin thumping painfully against the rough floor as the wind was knocked out of me.

Rough hands finished their task as I heard chain rattle and clink.

Lots of chain.

I knew I was not going to like this, I knew it.

“Get up!”

I didn’t have enough air to answer, much less obey.

A boot landed firmly in my ribs with a sickening crunch of cracking bone.

Why is it these Jaffa think a kick in the ribs can help a guy get upright, huh? Just let them try getting up when you can’t breathe to begin with.

“Get up,” I’m ordered again, “or I’ll shoot *him.*”

The gun was pointed at Marule.

Still fighting for air, knowing I was going to have to do this in stages, I pulled my knees up toward my chest with a groan, gasping at the effort, and getting no further.

Obviously, it wasn’t far enough for my Jaffa buddies. Another kick. As if that would help me get the rest of the way to my feet. Damn Jaffa have no sense at all. I could see the booted foot raised again, and even though I knew it was stupid, I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t give in without a fight. So okay, it wasn’t going to be much of a fight, but it would be something, token resistance, defiance, belligerence, all right, stupidity. But I did it anyway.

I had just enough slack in the chains to snatch the foot as it swung my way. My fingers grasped the alien’s ankle, jerked hard, and the big SOB hit the floor with a satisfying thud, landing on his sorry Jaffa ass.

He wasn’t amused. Neither were his cronies or Bossman Jaffa, and with fists and feet they all proceeded to show me just how highly unamused they were.

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

I don’t think I was out for very long because when I woke up they were just chaining up Grogan. I saw the heavy metal cuffs get locked around his wrists. A short chain ran from each of them to the ends of a heavy iron bar, about four feet long, which was wedged between his elbows and his back. That explained the weight on my own back, I realized. The final piece was another short length of thick links that ran from the middle of the iron bar, under his right arm and around to fasten to the front of the heavy leather collar buckled around his neck.

Efficient. Uncomfortable. Awkward.

Heavy, too.

Realizing I was awake, a Jaffa snagged the chain to my collar and pulled me upright. Cut off all my air in the process, but I didn’t see that he much cared. I staggered, trying to draw a breath and at the same time balance the unfamiliar heavy weight. Hard to do without adequate air, a still spinning head and about 700 lbs. of chains hanging off me. So, right, I exaggerated, about 699 lbs. of chains.

I fought for balance, and just as I was getting my legs set under me, Bossman Jaffa grabbed the chain and jerked me toward him like a dog on a leash. Somehow, I stumbled forward, managing to keep my feet, and glared in his face.

“That was foolish, Tau’ri, stubborn but foolish,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. Somehow, I got the feeling this guy was not going to be president of my fan club. “Now, you will tell me what you are doing here among the Latonnans.”

“We came for the night life but so far I’d have to say it’s been a disappointmen…”

Okay, now shoving is not nice. Guess my Jaffa buddy missed that lesson back in kindergarten, because his not so gentle push overbalanced me. Unable to move my arms to regain any semblance of balance, I stumbled and went down, hard, that damn iron bar smacking into the middle of my back as I hit the wall, elbows first.

Now that hurt.

Shit.

“Tell me why you are here.”

“For the nightli…” I insisted stubbornly, managing to get sort of upright, hunched over and listing to the left, but standing.

That time, he just reached out a foot and snagged mine and I landed on my butt on the floor in an ungainly heap, wrenching back, shoulders and elbows one more time. He screamed at me to get up, but between the awkward way I’d fallen, the weight of the chains unbalancing me, and the dizziness that had me on the verge of regurgitating my tasty MRE lunch right in his lap, I didn’t. Couldn’t.

Bossman Jaffa nodded at one of his henchmen, who reached down and hauled me upright by that dog collar again, adding a hearty shake for good measure.

My head felt like one of those bobbing head dolls.

Damn.

I am never gonna put a collar on another dog as long as I live, I vowed, eyes scrunched tightly closed against the vertigo.

When I could finally get my eyes to focus again, things had gone from worse to worst.

BigMouth Jaffa had this look on his face, the kind you *never* want to see on the face of the guy who’s got you tied up and at his mercy.

In his hand was something I’d seen before and never wanted to see again, a metal rod about a foot and a half long with a triple pronged end. Looks kind of like the devil's trident fork thingy. Feels that way, too, actually.

They don’t call it a pain stick for nothing.

Burrock had had one back on PX-something, that planet with the Unas slaves. You remember. Believe me, *I* remember. Pain like that is *not* something you soon forget. Blinding, raging, nerve shaking, skull shattering agony like someone shaving layers off your brain a millimeter at a time with a dull razor blade.

“Tell me what you know about the device.”

“You know, why don’t you tell your Lord Sweathog to go find his own…” I started, and didn’t finish, because Bossman smiled and jabbed that thing against the middle of my back, just close enough to my spine to induce the full effect.

Man, I thought we’d gotten the whole agonizing dose back with Burrock, but then again, that shock had been transmitted through ten feet of chain, the shackles, and my heavy leather boot. This time, there was nothing between me and the tip of that stungun thingy but my t-shirt.

I felt my skin roast, my nerve endings sizzle, my spinal cord knot and twist, and I swear I thought my brain was frying like an egg on a sidewalk in 130 degree heat.

I hollered, and fell to my knees, my legs buckling, unable to support myself as my whole body shuddered.

“No! Stop!” Grogan hollered, too, writhing, trying to pull away from the pair of Jaffa that were holding him. He’ll do, that kid.

Mr. Jaffa Asshole turned to Grogan. “Tell me what you know about the Sentinel or I’ll give him a double dose,” he said, pointing at me.

Grogan looked at me, an agonized, indecisive look on his face. “Sir?”

It was no use. I knew this Jaffa wasn’t going to be satisfied with the truth, so there was nothing the kid could do to stop what the guy with the supercharged cattle prod was going to do to me. Nothing I could do, either, except drag it out as long as I could stand it in hopes that somehow Carter, Greeves and Kershaw could manage to fix whatever the hell had been messed up with that snake killing device and get it working. Real soon. Like right now.

I shook my head at the kid.

He nodded, understanding what I wanted. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said, defiantly.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the Jaffa said, and zapped me again.

I hollered, cursed, gasped for air like a fish out of water, tried to blink away the flashes of light eating through my skull, and endured. There wasn’t a choice. I didn’t have the answers he wanted, and he wasn’t going to accept the truth, and the only option was to lay down and die, and that’s the one thing I can’t and won’t do.

So there you are.

And there I was, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

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

Somewhere along about the fourth zap with the pain stick, right about the point I was seriously beginning to doubt I’d ever be able to tap dance again, it stopped.

A Jaffa entered the room, bowed, and stood at attention.

“Report,” the big man ordered.

“Master, your presence is requested at the site of the Sentinel. Our forces have entered the structure where the device is hidden, just a short distance from the city.”

Bossman turned around on me with a triumphant smile. “Bring them.”

They ringed us to a clearing in the dark forest, a mound of what looked like broken off trees, branches and forest trash turning out to be the camouflaged exterior of The Sentinel’s lair. Still reeling, I was pushed into a dimly lit tunnel, forced to my knees just a few feet away from my team, Greeves, Kershaw and a bunch of glowing machines. I hit the ground with a thud, adding bruises on my knees to my growing list of damaged body parts.

“Colonel?” Carter looked worried.

Guess I didn’t look so good. Probably not, come to think of it.

“You know, now would be a good time,” my breath caught, sore ribs protesting the effort to speak, “to turn that thing on.”

“Lower the force field or your friends will be killed,” promised Bossman Jaffa.

I raised my face to make eye contact with Carter.

“Sir…,” the Major’s eyes were huge, worried, scared.

Shit, they didn’t have it working. Shit shit shit. “Don’t do it, Carter. That’s an order.”

“Jaffa!” bossman ordered.

The Jaffa standing behind me held the pain stick, and jammed it against the back of my neck.

Pain exploded in my head. It felt like my gray matter was leaking out my ears. “Arrrggghhhh…. God… Ugh… Blow it up. Don’t let them have it,” I snarled at Carter.

“Jaffa!”

The alien obeyed, tapping me again.

“Arrrrggghhhh… do it…” was all I could stammer past the snarling pain rocketing through me.

“Yes, Sir,” Carter answered

Greeves suddenly spoke up. “Wait! I can deactivate the force shield.” He walked toward a glowing blue tower. “I can do it from here.”

That traitorous son of a bitch, I thought, then caught Carter looking oddly at Teal’c. The big man inclined his head slightly, and the Major turned back to me, her gaze intent, her voice strong. “I’m gonna let Colonel Greeves take down the force field, Sir.”

Damn it. No. They’d be killed, or worse, turned into hosts. “Carter, I gave you a direct order.” Please don’t do it.

“Yes, Sir, I understand that,” she was staring intently at me. “I think it’s the right thing to do.” She was staring at me, trying to tell me something without saying anything, trying to get me to play along. I shuddered, tried to think, tried to force my fried brain cells to function, couldn’t, could do nothing but let her go ahead with whatever desperate plan she had in mind.

Trust Carter.

Greeves reached out and touched the blue-lit pillar. Bright light flared, noise erupted, a wave of… something, ice cold white light, like a cold breeze wafted over me.

“He’s gone,” said Carter.

“As are the Jaffa,” added Teal’c.

The Jaffa are gone. Me and Grogan, we’re still here, my team’s still there, behind the force field, but the damn Jaffa are gone.

Thank you, Carter, I offer silent thanks.

I watch as Carter gently closes Kershaw’s eyes.

Suddenly, Daniel is at my side.

Grogan is looking around wide-eyed. “W-what just happened?”

“The Sentinel was never damaged, Sir,” Carter informed me. “It just required a human component.”

Daniel nodded agreement as he unbuckled the collar from around my neck and knelt to work at the shackles on my wrists. “Man and machine working together to become a weapon.”

“The Sentinel was indeed a device of great power. It would be wise to ask the Lotonnans if we may study it further,” Teal’c suggested.

“Oh, I think I know what they’d say,” I muttered, still confused over what had just happened, but not confused enough to think that the Latonnans would soon be forgiving us.

For a moment, silence reigned.

“Got it,” Daniel said, and I felt the chains fall away from my wrists. I flexed my burning shoulders, muscles cramped by long uncomfortable hours, my ribs protesting, my back spasming and involuntarily I groaned as every bone, joint and muscle flared with pain.

Carter had stepped to my side as Daniel went to free Grogan. “Sir…”

“I’ll be all right, Carter,” I mumbled, still on my knees, hands resting on thighs, too tired to get down or up or anything. Teal’c stepped forward, and forcing a deep breath, I accepted his offered hand and pulled myself upright.

Surprised myself be being able to stay upright, if a little shakily.

Someone handed me a canteen, and I drank gratefully, then handed it to Grogan. “You okay, kid?”

“Yes, Sir,” he answered quickly. “Sir, I…”

“You did fine, kid,” I patted his shoulder. “Now let’s get the hell out of here,” I said, leaning against Teal’c, shuffling out of the Sentinel’s hiding place. Once outside, I felt the cool night air revive me a little, but the raging headache wasn’t lessening. I knew from experience it wouldn’t go away soon, and for just this once, I was looking forward to one of those big, heavy duty knock out pills I was confident Doc was going to give me. Soon.

We were finally able to raise SG-3 on the radio. Splitting up, Carter and Daniel went with them toward the city. Teal’c accompanied Grogan and me as we hobbled, okay I hobbled, Grogan walked, slowly back toward the gate, and home.

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

My feet hit the familiar metal grating of the SGC ramp and I stumbled, a hastily outflung arm catching Teal’c’s shoulders as I heard someone gasp. Damn, guess I should have wiped that blood off my forehead before heading home, but I’d forgotten.

Doc was there beside me in about two seconds flat, her ‘worried doctor’ look firmly in place. “Colonel?”

I tried to wave her away, stumbled, and gave it up as a lost cause, sliding to a seat on the ramp steps. Doc was not going to buy anything I said, anyway. I was obviously on my way to a stay in the infirmary, no matter how loudly I protested, which wasn’t going to be loud at all because anything above a whisper was making my head ring like a cracked bell.

I let my eyes fall shut, blocking out the too bright lights as my headache spiked.

“Colonel! Colonel O’Neill?” Now Doc sounded worried, too.

I re-opened the eyes, squinting. “Headache, Doc.” I muttered, shutting the lids one more time.

“Okay,” her hands were pulling my shirt collar open, and I felt the cold, smooth disc of her stethoscope touch my chest. “Where else are you hurt, Sir?” she asked, as her hand moved quickly to my wrist. I heard her gasp as she saw the marks left by the chains and the bruising that had already begun there.

“Pretty much all over,” I admitted without thinking.

“O’Neill was tortured with a pain stick by one of Suarog’s Jaffa,” Teal’c ratted on me.

“And he was beaten up by the Jaffa, when he wouldn’t let them chain him up,” Grogan added.

“You were chained up?” Doc asked, looking from Grogan to me to Teal’c.

“O’Neill and LieutenantGrogan were captured in the city,” Teal’c reported. Nodding at me, he added, “and O'Neill does not appear to be breathing properly.”

“That I noticed,” Doc muttered at me. “Ribs?”

“Yup. Sore.”

She gave me a searching glance.

I started to shrug, stopped as I had to gasp for breath past the stabbing pain in my side, and admitted. "Cracked rib I suppose."

“Colonel?” her question drew my gaze to hers, and she lifted that damn penlight toward my eyes.

I flinched and slammed my lids shut. “Damn it, Doc. Headache, remember?”

“The light makes it worse?”

“Much.”

She nodded, her hand patting me lightly on the arm, one of those reassuring little gestures Doc uses. “We’ll get you down to the infirmary and get you patched up, Sir.”

“Yeah. Fine. Let’s get it over with,” I answered, and tried to push myself to my feet. My body, however, had seemingly had enough, because instead of cooperating, my knees buckled and I found myself right back sitting on the steps. I grinned up at Doc, mumbled “Sorry,” and let the orderlies help me onto a stretcher.

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

Doc examined me in her usual thorough, gentle way, talking softly as she worked to keep me occupied. Somewhere a long time ago we’d reached the unspoken agreement that she needed to always tell me what she was doing. You never want to take an old Special Ops guy by surprise, believe me.

Having checked my blood pressure, temperature, and breathing, she rinsed the blood off my temple and gently probed around the damaged area. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches here, Colonel, but you are going to have some impressive bruises,” she assessed. “Take off your shirt for me, would you, Sir,” she asked.

I started to raise my arms, and couldn’t bite back the groan.

Her hand was quickly on my arm. “Wait. Colonel. I’ll take care of it.” She picked up a scissors and cut through the fabric of my shirt. As she pulled the material away, I heard her gasp. I imagine I had a few spectacular bruises forming all over my ribs, neck, torso, and even my elbows. Sweathog’s Jaffa had been pretty thorough.

“You should have seen the other guys,” I grinned crookedly at her.

She grinned back, but her eyes were grim, not humorous. “I’ll bet, Colonel.”

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

General Hammond came in about the time she was done.

I’d just laid back on the bed and closed my eyes, vainly hoping that nasty pain-stick induced headache was going to stop thundering through my head real soon.

“How is he, Doctor?” I heard the General ask quietly.

“Lucky, Sir,” she answered equally softly. “No concussion, though he has a bad headache, a cracked rib and nasty bruises on his neck, ribcage, back, knees, even his elbows and wrists. He’ll be sore for a few days, but fortunately, I think that’s all. He’s sleeping now…”

“No, I’m not,” I spoke up, forcing my heavy eyelids upwards. “Hi, General.”

“Colonel? Teal’c gave me a brief report before he returned to the planet. Sounds like the mission was a success.”

“In the big picture, yes, Sir.”

“Good work, Colonel.”

“I’ll pass that on to my team, Sir.”

He nodded. “How are you feeling, Jack?”

“A little worse for wear, General, but,” looking down at the darkening bruises forming on my ribs, “looks worse than it is.”

“I’ll bet,” he answered, disbelief obvious. “You get some rest, Jack. Your team is just mopping up and it looks like the Lotonnans may be willing to sign that treaty with us after all.”

“I doubt they’ll give us access to the Sentinel again, though.”

“Most likely not, Jack. But, it’s the best we can hope for. Greeves and Kershaw undid the harm they did.”

“Not all of it. Some of the Lotonnan people died because of us, General.”

“Not us, Colonel, the NID. You accomplished your mission.”

I shook my head. “Not me. It was Greeves who saved us, he sacrificed himself.” I was going to need some time to think through his actions. I’d pegged him as a traitor and a fool hoodwinked by the NID; maybe I’d been wrong, judged him too harshly, because in the end, he’d given his life to save the rest of us. Of course, he’d been a dead man anyway before I’d walked into his prison cell and offered him an out. Maybe it had just been a way out of prison, but I think maybe it had also been a way to atone for his actions. Maybe he’d been a better man than I’d judged him to be. Maybe he just couldn’t face going back to live out his life in a cell, and death had been preferable. I know even the bravest man can reach a point where life is unbearable and death seems the only solution. I know.

Really, right then, all that thinking was just too much for my aching head.

“Colonel?” Hammond was asking. “Are you all right?”

I rubbed a hand across my forehead, encountering the little butterfly bandages Doc had applied to the cut on my temple.

“Yes, Sir.” I will be. After all, no permanent damage had been done. The bruises would fade, the cuts would heal, the rib would knit, and it wouldn’t be long and I’d be back with my team doing what we do best, out there in the Universe.

Hammond’s voice sounded concerned. “I’m going to let you get back to sleep now, Jack. I’ll expect your report in a few days, once Dr. Fraiser releases you.” I heard his footsteps start for the door.

“Sir?”

“What, Jack?”

“The kid, the lieutenant, Grogan, did good.”

“I’ll expect the details in your report, Colonel.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, rest. That’s an order.”

Some orders are easier to obey than others, and that was one. Whatever Doc had given me pushed me off into lala land really fast, and I slept long and well, and, when I finally woke, it was a good way and a good place to wake, the way I like to wake up, comfortable and cared for and with the sounds of my team’s voices around me. I laid there, eyes still closed, just savoring the fact that no one was hitting me, kicking me, zatting me, zapping me with a pain stick or putting me in chains.

“Sam, I think he’s awake,” that was Daniel’s quiet voice.

“Janet said he would sleep for hours yet,” Sam disagreed.

“Dr. Fraiser stated that O’Neill needs his rest,” Teal’c advised. “Perhaps we should remain quiet, and let him sleep.”

“Right,” said Daniel.

The room went silent once more.

I snuggled down deeper into the covers and contentedly let sleep claim me again, knowing I was safe, with my own trio of sentinels keeping watch over me.

---FINIS---