Unnatural Choices

By Badgergater

Season: Six

Category: Drama, epilogue to episode Unnatural Selection

Summary: The events of Unnatural Selection leave Jack haunted by his past

(Picks up exactly at the end of the episode)

Warnings: None

Pairing: None

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of

SciFiChannel, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko

Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment

purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement

intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted

without the author's consent

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“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Jonas: You do realize what you did?

O'Neill: The right thing, Jonas.

Jonas: You used his humanity against him.

O'Neill: His *what*?

Carter: Jonas is right. It's exactly what we did.

O'Neill: He wasn't human. Get that through your heads.

Carter: He could have fooled me.

O'Neill: We all know what would have happened if those things had gotten out.

Who's gonna stop them? We did the right thing.

Jonas: I hope you're right Sir.

Carter: So do I.

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

O'Neill looked across at Carter. "There are casualties in war, Major. You know that. It's not our job to save the enemy, it's our job to save ourselves. Remember that."

"Sir..."

“No.” He cut off her protest, scrubbing a hand wearily across his face. The headache that had started when that freakin’ *thing* had stuck its hand into his head was back with a vengeance, hammering on the inside of his skull. "Major, we've all been awake for waaay too many hours. You and Jonas, get some rest."

"Someone needs to monitor ship's systems..." she objected.

"Teal'c can do that. He'll holler if he needs help. Now go." Jack saw her hesitate once more, and he raised his voice from suggestion to unmistakable command. "Go, Major. That's an order."

Carter stood, glaring once more at him with a mixture of anger and sadness. "Yes, Sir," she snapped, and left.

Jonas looked hesitantly back at the other two men, then quietly followed Carter out into the hallway.

The soft sounds of their footsteps quickly faded away. Quiet descended on the control room. The only noise was the low, dim rumble of the ship.

Jack sat, silent and still, staring blindly out into the sea of stars.

Teal'c watched his commander discretely. "You are upset, O'Neill."

"Yeah."

The alien nodded. "Our kind is rarely understood."

The comment snapped the Colonel's head around to stare at the Jaffa. "*Our*

kind? You're an alien and I'm a pitifully young Tau'ri."

"Neither of us is young, O'Neill."

"Well, you've got 60 years on me, big guy. Do you understand them?" he waved

a hand at the doorway where their two teammates had just exited.

"I do not, O'Neill. Like you, I am a warrior and I understand the hardships of the warrior's way. I know that a warrior lives first for his people, above the wishes of all others, even his own."

Jack nodded.

"You are angry."

"Damn straight. I'm tired of being the alien's cavalry. And then getting blamed because, hell, just because," the Colonel slumped back into the command chair. "I thought Carter was ready."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow in question.

O'Neill felt the need to explain. "For her own command. I thought she understood what it meant, to be the one responsible for carrying out orders. To do what needs to be done, even when... " he paused, searching for the right words, "when it's ugly or... or distasteful." He'd thought Carter'd

understood enough to at least keep her thoughts to herself, to not berate him for what he'd had to do; that she realized what was at stake, and that trading one life, one non-human life, for the safety of billions of humans along with billions of other beings like the Asgaard, was a fair, if

unpleasant trade. Most of all, he’d thought that she understood that he did what had to be done, not what he'd do if he was free to chose, which he wasn't, on a mission like this.

Did she still naively believe that doing the right thing came without a price?

Teal'c nodded in silent understanding.

Jack appreciated the quiet support of the former First Prime, acknowledging that Teal'c was someone who knew how heavily responsibility weighed on your shoulders when you were the one who had to make hard choices. Teal'c knew, because he'd been there, too.

It was a small and exclusive club.

"It has been a difficult day," Teal'c understated.

"I'm just tired of aliens dragging me off to..." a dark look crossed the gray haired man's features, "...to places I don't want to go."

"You are not now referring to the Asgaard?"

"No, I'm not."

Teal'c looked back at the star-studded blackness visible on the viewing screen. "It was unpleasant."

"You remember?"

"Vaguely. And you?"

Jack washed a hand across his face, shivering. "Oh, yeah."

"What was done to us, without our consent, was, as you would say, not pretty."

"Right."

"My recollections of what occurred are only dim impressions of great emotional discomfort."

O'Neill was nodding in agreement, wishing his own recollections were so benign.

"What I do recall is the alien sorting through my most painful memories, and using them to torment me when I did not obey."

"That pretty much sums it up," the Colonel agreed.

Silence fell again.

Finally O'Neill asked, "Why do they do that?"

"Who?"

"Aliens," he looked over at Teal'c, "not you. Them," he waved a hand at the planet which was now somewhere behind them. "Why do they keep picking on *my* brain? Hell, even that...that thing, knew it was... chaotic," Jack wasn't about to reveal the rest, the pain and guilt the alien had found so quickly and used too effectively.

//"You are correct to blame yourself. Your son would still be alive but for your carelessness."//

The oily, gloating voice washed over him. Jumping to his feet, Jack turned away, shooting Teal'c a look of apology before covering his face with his hands. "T, I'm going for a walk. A long walk..."

"Perhaps you should rest, O’Neill. You are exhausted."

"No. I really don't think sleep is in my immediate future."

Teal'c nodded.

Jack fled the control room, First's words echoing through his head. He walked aimlessly through the corridors of the ship, hoping the physical action would help.

It didn't.

The memories, called to the fore by the alien's lust for domination and control, were still rattling around in his conscious brain. Much as he wanted to, much as he tried to, Jack couldn't box them back up and bury them in that spot deep in his subconscious where he normally kept them.

He walked faster in long angry strides, needing desperately to *do* something, to move to dissipate the despair welling up inside him. But each jarring footfall, echoing through the empty ship, instead of helping, screamed his guilt back at him.

//"You are correct to blame yourself. Your son would still be alive but for your carelessness."//

//Your son would still be alive but for you.//

//Your son would still be alive...//

//Your son...//

He couldn't escape it. The words were racing around in his brain, one chasing another, a cacophony of sound and memory and pain so all consuming he thought he would fly apart, like glass shattering into a million pieces.

That... that son of a bitch... had made him... God, O’Neill wanted to retch. First had forced him to relive it all. Jack swallowed the bitter bile of memory, of actions once taken that couldn't be undone, of sights once seen that could never be forgotten for all but brief, distracted moments; of guilt that could never be assuaged, no matter how much one begged the gods or cursed the fates or hated oneself.

He didn't remember stopping, but somehow he had, standing alone somewhere in the far reaches of the unfamiliar ship. Jack stood shaking with the power of his emotions, the ones he had buried so deeply because he knew that facing them would shatter what fragile peace he had made with himself over the years.

Shaking himself, O'Neill began moving again, faster and faster until he was almost running through the empty corridors; fleeing not to somewhere, but away, away from his past, away from his memories and his guilt, away from himself.

He knew it couldn't be done, but something drove him on regardless.

Finally, he found himself in an unfamiliar area of the ship. Picking a doorway, he staggered into the sanctuary of a small, dark room. Turning his back to the door, Jack slouched back against it, his shoulders slumping, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, then, his knees wobbled and gave way as he let himself slide down the wall, sinking to the floor with his long legs splayed out in front of him. He leaned his head back against the door, and dug the heels of his hands into his gritty eyes.

The images remained.

Nothing could stop them.

First had shown him those moments, over and over again, using them to torture and coerce him, to flay him all the way to the bone, and beyond. They played again and again in his brain, like a broken record.

They wouldn't stop…

...bright sunlight turned to sudden darkness...

...Sara's scream...

...the pounding of his heart as he raced up the stairs...

...Charlie's body on the floor in a crimson pool...

...the empty shell that had been his son, still and white and empty, on the

hospital bed... all that was Charlie gone forever.

...because of him.

First had replayed those moments, over and over, forcing him not just to watch, but to relive them, to *feel* them, again and again and again, every time he had failed to obey the bastard fast enough, or completely enough, each time he had tried to evade or delay or mislead...

And finally, he'd replayed them just for the cruelty of it. Because First enjoyed it.

Jack wanted to shout, to scream, to run forever and ever.....

"O'Neill."

Jack knew that voice. And he ignored it.

"O'Neill."

He didn't bother to open his eyes, he could feel the light assaulting his eyelids.

"O'Neill, are you injured? Do you require medical assistance?"

"No."

"Then why are you here, and seated on the floor? Other areas of the ship are equipped with furniture. Would it not be more comforta-"

"No." Jack snapped.

Silence reigned.

Finally, resignedly, the Colonel lifted his lids just enough to confirm that Thor indeed was there in the room with him, seated on his chair-thingy, bathed in bright, glowing light. "You could turn down the damn lights," he complained.

"I am sorry, O'Neill. I did not realize the illumination would trouble you."

The light dimmed. Jack opened his eyes further.

"I have come to apologize, O'Neill. I did not know this mission would be so painful..."

"There seems to be a hell of a lot that you don't know..." Jack snapped.

The small gray alien nodded in agreement. "We are an advanced race, O'Neill, but not all powerful and all knowing."

"I've noticed," the human replied sarcastically.

"I do not blame you for being upset..."

"Oh, you don't, do you?"

"I do not. We had not imagined the Replicators would advance so fast or develop such skills so rapidly, even with the aid of the time distortion."

"There were a hell of a lot of things you missed, ol' buddy."

Thor nodded, acknowledging the truth of the human's words. After several moments, he added, "We saw what the Replicators have become."

O'Neill's eyes flashed angrily. "You *saw*? You *watched*?"

Thor nodded.

"You watched and did nothing?" he asked incredulously.

"We could not."

"Or you *would* not."

"We could observe, only. We left monitoring devices..."

"So, what, the *great*," O'Neill made a quotations motion, "races of the galaxy are voyeurs? Intergalactic Peeping Toms?"

Thor shrugged.

The silence returned, stretching across long minutes.

Finally, without looking up from his study of the floor, Jack asked the question which he had often pondered. "Why me?"

Thor blinked rapidly. "Why you? I do not understand your question, O'Neill."

"Why do you Asgaard keep coming after me to save your little gray butts, huh?" The Colonel raised his face to stare into the immense oval eyes. "I'm just an ordinary guy who likes to fish and drink beer and watch hockey. But you, you just keep coming after what's in my head, and honestly, I don't have any of the gray matter to spare, you know?"

"You have much more intelligence than you admit, O'Neill."

"Oh I don't think so." A frown crossed the human's face. "You didn't answer. Why me? Why do you keep coming after me-us?"

"Your species interests us, O'Neill. Your youth draws us to you. Your vigor and your curiosity remind us of how we once were, before we became complacent, and too dependent on our technology to do for ourselves." Jack could have sworn he saw Thor smile, or at least attempt the expression. "And you, personally, O'Neill, you enjoy pretending to be less than you are, but

it *was* you who found us. You challenge us, confound us, you make us wonder..."

"I do that to a lot of people. Just ask Hammond."

"Your ability to think in new and... unusual... ways provides us with new answers."

"Oh, yeah, the 'too dumb for the bugs to see what we're up to' thing."

"Sometimes the simplest solutions are best."

"Yeah, well, you know, for being one of the 'dumber' races of the galaxy, we don't do too badly."

"We have never said you or your people were not intelligent, O'Neill. Just young."

"You could a' fooled me."

"That was not our intent..."

O'Neill waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, well, whatever. For the supposed superior smart folks of the universe, you guys really keep gettin' a lot wrong."

"We can only do our best."

"Your best leaves a lot to be desired."

"We are aware of our failings."

"Are you?" the human demanded.

"Yes. As you are of yours, O'Neill."

Jack grimaced. "Let's just not go *there*, okay. I've already taken a less than lovely stroll down memory lane today and it's just not what it's cracked up to be."

"Fate treats us all unkindly."

O'Neill shrugged. "Some more than others."

"And it is usually the innocent who suffer most."

"Gee, now that's something I never would have guessed."

"You know it well. You have known it for many of your years," Thor answered patiently. Staring intently at O'Neill, the human's vivid distress painfully apparent, the gray alien reached out his thin, delicate hand. "I can remove the pain, O'Neill," he offered. A blue glow began to emanate from the upraised palm.

"No!" The Colonel lunged forward, slapping the alien's hand aside.

Thor tilted his head quizzically. "The gesture was not meant to harm, but to soothe, and bring comfort."

"I think I'd rather *not* know what your idea of comfort is. I've really had quite enough of aliens messing in my head for one day, thank you."

The gray being continued to stare intently at the human seated before him. "I wish only to remove the memory that troubles you, like we removed the knowledge of the Ancients you received inadvertently."

"What?" Jack's voice rose.

"That which pains you can be removed, much as your human doctors perform surgery to repair physical trauma."

"Well you're a little late. The trauma's already come and gone."

"It has not gone. It troubles you still. But there is no need for it to remain."

For a moment, he honestly considered it, and then, slowly, Jack shook his head no. "The past can't be changed?"

"Sadly, no, it cannot, or I would try for the sake of our friendship. The past must remain, but our painful memories of it can be expunged."

"No."

Thor tilted his head. "I do not understand..."

O'Neill shrugged. "It's... it's..." Jack shook his head and stared down at the floor. "My kid. He died. It was my fault."

"Why do you blame yourself?"

"Because it was my fault. Take my word for it. I *know.*"

"Guilt is destructive. It serves no purpose. Regret cannot change what happened."

"I know that." O'Neill snapped peevishly.

"Then why do you do not wish to forget? Why do you hold so tightly to such pain?"

"Oh, I do *wish* to forget. But I can't."

"That is not true."

"His death was part of his life. It's part of *me*. It keeps me..." O'Neill raised a hand. "Grounded. Humble."

"Unlike us?" Thor asked, his great eyes blinking slowly.

O'Neill dipped his head, nodding slightly.

The pair sat silent.

Finally, the small alien spoke. "Do not your people have a saying, that time heals all wounds?"

A bitter smile crossed O'Neill's face. "If you haven't noticed, we humans tend to have trouble telling the truth."

Thor nodded. "Lying to oneself is not healthy."

Jack raised his head, and spread his arms. "Yeah, well, what can I say. We're still young."

"Not as young as you once were."

"No. Never."

"None of us are."

The conversation paused once more, until Thor broke the silence. "Your teammates are angry with you."

O'Neill shrugged. "Carter and Jonas, yes, they are. Carter thinks she broke her promise to one of the replicators."

"You do not agree?"

"Hell, no. Our first obligation is to our own people and our allies," O'Neill nodded at the Asgaard. He sighed.

"She did not agree with your decision?"

"Apparently not."

"She is young."

"Very." Way too young, O'Neill thought, too young to see that a commander had to act in the best interests of his team, carry out his orders, do what needed to be done. As her CO, her reaction had disappointed him. Had she learned so little from him in six years? "She doesn't understand that it

wasn't a personal decision, but a professional one."

Thor nodded. "That is a realization which requires much experience. Perhaps some day she will understand."

O'Neill shrugged, uncertain. It was a line many officers could never cross, and now he doubted if she ever could.

Silence fell once more.

At last, the small gray being spoke. "We have asked much of you, O'Neill, for friendship's sake. Far more than was fair or right. More than can ever be repaid, by me, and by my people." He paused, large oval eyes blinking. "But I will endeavor to someday find a way."

Jack nodded, too tired to argue. Thor watched as the tall human let his head slump forward onto his arms which rested across his knees.

"Sleep now, O'Neill, rest is healing. Soon we will return to your world."

FINISH