Author's Notes: I have been working on this story for some time now and I think it's ready for me to start posting it. The concept of this fic came to me out of my desire to write something that was based in the present, but with the past interwoven throughout, sort of telling a story within a story. In other words, I was experimenting with the idea of telling a complete story in flashbacks, memories and dreams. I'm not sure if I was successful in this, and I would love it if you all could tell me your thoughts on whether I succeeded or not.
I wanted to thank the Jackficcers who helped me tremendously by providing comments, encouragement and ideas on how to improve this fic.
I also wanted to send out a special thank you to my beta, Diane, who asked me a thousand and one questions about this story when she first read it, forcing me to do some major editing in order to clarify some points and hopefully making it less confusing. You are the best!
The floor of the cell that he had been dumped in was cold and barren and Jack was freezing. He was still dressed in the clothes he had worn while he lived as a slave on Hulmeshur, but shoes had been a luxury and the thin sandals he had been wearing when he was rescued had disappeared sometime during the trip back to Earth. Because of this he had been brought into the cell barefoot and he was still waiting for the shoes they'd promised him. He pulled his feet up on to the bed he was sitting on and wrapped his arms around his knees, hoping to conserve what little warmth he had left in his body.
He'd been back at the SGC for over six hours, ever since he had come back through the Gate kicking and shouting obscenities, pulling at the restraints that held his arms behind his back. He was not an animal, but try telling that to those jarheads who had come to 'rescue' him. He was glad that they had finally rescued him from the hell he had been forced to go through during the last eight months, but the fact that he was still a prisoner didn't make his homecoming any sweeter.
Some homecoming, he thought sourly. They had brought him to this cell once the doctor had pronounced him well enough to leave the infirmary. The doctor's prognosis had been encouraging - aside from some burns and bruises, which had been treated, he was slightly dehydrated. Still, his condition didn't warrant having him strapped down in a bed in the infirmary when he could be walking around in a locked cell. They considered him a danger and locked him up to minimize the danger, but at least he wasn't tied down.
He looked around at his surroundings, realizing the irony of the situation. He was in a room that was divided down the middle with metal bars that created a wall to keep prisoners locked up behind it. A bunk bed was installed in the cell, while the other side of the room provided plenty of space for visitors to come in to visit without having to worry about getting their heads bashed in by the prisoner being held in the cell. In all his years at the SGC, Jack had never been on this side of the bars.
He was in the same cell Carter had been held in when Jolinar had taken her as a host and he remembered her pleas when she begged him to help her, as well as his determination not to give in. Would she do the same thing to him now?
Damn, it's cold! He found himself wishing that his jailors had thought to give him a change of clothes, but they were too busy fighting to keep him restrained to think of his comfort. He put his chin on his knees in an effort to stop his teeth from chattering, but nothing he did seemed to help. After a minute of hugging his knees to his chest, he reached over and grabbed the blanket from the end of the bed and proceeded to wrap it around his huddled form.
Once he got the blanket in place, he glanced up at the one-eyed sentry that watched his every move. It stared at him even now, monitoring his every movement, as well as every sound, as he sat there on the bed. Hell, it was probably counting each and every breath he took.
He glared at the camera mounted on the wall a moment longer, then focused on the door on the other side of the bars. There was someone standing guard outside of it waiting quietly and patiently for even the slightest hint of trouble. It was a way of life for these people to make sure their prisoners didn't get away. He knew the routine all too well and he even considered using that routine against them, but knew he would ultimately get caught. Even he couldn't win against these guys.
Someone should be coming to feed him soon and the first thing he planned to ask for was that they turn up the heat. Maybe he'd ask for a pair of those wool-lined slippers his grandmother had bought him for his birthday one year. They had come in handy when that blizzard hit. They were a hell of a lot warmer than the blanket he was currently huddled under.
He continued to stare at the door, praying it would open soon so that he could convince those idiots that there was no need for the freaking air conditioner to be on continuously. He hadn't been this cold since…, well, he couldn't remember how long. Maybe that time in Antarctica. Yeah that was definitely worse. He shivered again, whether from thinking about Antarctica or from his current predicament, he didn't know.
"Will you turn the fucking heat up?" he shouted at the camera. Someone had to have heard him, there was always someone monitoring the prisoners - when they had prisoners that is. He tried to pull the blanket tighter around him, but it was already at the point of nearly suffocating him.
He put his chin down on his knees again and started to rock back and forth, hoping that the movement would create some warmth. Okay, think warm places. Beaches, barbecues, Sokar's moon, Hulmeshur…, no don't think Hulmeshur, something else… beaches, yeah warm sunny beaches.
The door opened suddenly, interrupting his concentration on finding a warm, sunny beach. "Finally," he said as he watched an airman walk in carrying a blanket and was that shoes? Yes! He stared at the airman, not daring to move in case this was all a trick and the prizes would be taken away. He knew what people were capable of, so he waited to see what the airman was going to do.
The blanket and the shoes were set down on the floor just inside the bars of his cell. He stared at the items then looked up at the airman, who had backed out of the cell and closed the door, wondering if this was all a trick. Deep down he knew he should trust him, they were his people after all, but he had been betrayed too many times by people he had trusted to even give this stranger a chance.
The airman smiled at him and took a few steps back, while nodding his head toward the blanket and shoes. It's not a trick, it can't be a trick, he thought to himself. Give the guy a chance, already. He got up off of the bed, throwing the blanket off his shoulders and cautiously walked over to pick up the gifts, glad that the sensor that was present when Jolinar occupied the cell had not been turned on. He stopped just short of his goal and chanced a look at the airman again. It's not a trick, just give him a chance. With that thought clanging in his mind, he reached out and snatched the shoes from the pile and was pleased to see that a pair of socks had been sandwiched between the shoes and the blanket. He looked up at the airman again, then grabbed the socks and the blanket before heading back to the bed in order to put some distance between him and the other man.
Once he was on the bed, he looked back at the airman and smiled his thanks then proceeded to put the socks on. Oh yeah! He was sure he could feel his feet warming up already and he hurriedly put on the shoes to help in thawing them out.
"You're welcome," the airman said. "They've also adjusted the temperature for you. This room should start to warm up in a few minutes."
Jack didn't reply, he just grabbed the blankets and began to arrange them so that he was thoroughly covered from his head to his leather clad toes, which had been pulled up to his body again. It was comforting to be wrapped up like this, not only for the warmth, but also because it made him feel safe. He didn't even try to dwell on the logic of that thought, he just sat there in the cocoon he had built around himself and watched as the airman looked at him sadly before leaving the room.
Shame washed over Jack as he realized that the airman pitied him. He knew that what the airman saw was a grown man huddled under the blankets like a frightened child. He tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, even as he pulled the blankets tighter around him. All he needed to do was to wait for the room to heat up, then he'd be able to get rid of the blankets.
It took a while, but he soon began to feel the warmth and he decided to lie down to try to get some sleep. Maybe this time there won't be any nightmares. No dreams of fires and fears, stress and starvation, or of pain and betrayal. Maybe this time he'll dream of beaches and bikinis, or of fishing in a clear blue lake filled with bass and perch.
The quiet and the warmth that he was finally starting to feel did the trick and he closed his eyes in an effort to relax and sleep. He opened them when he heard a laugh that chilled him to the bone, despite the fact that he was lying there in a warm cocoon of blankets. He knew that laugh and he looked toward the bars of his cell to see Taria standing there with a big smile on her face and the keys to his cell dangling from her hand.
It was a trap, he knew it was a trap, but he had to trust her. She wouldn't sell him out again. Not after what she'd said to him the last time she'd helped him to escape. He had been caught and the punishment far outweighed anything Ba'al had ever done to him. Taria had told him that she would never cause him to go through that again, as the experience of watching his punishment had been too traumatic for her. It still boggled the mind when he thought about it. Too traumatic for her? He refused to even remember what those bastards had done to him, let alone dwell on it, and she was complaining about her own trauma?
He didn't believe her then, why did he believe her now? "I can't go with you," he said, as he got up and walked over to the bars of the cell.
"You wouldn't believe what I had to do to get these keys, Jack," she said with a frown. "We can leave this place. Go someplace where Handar will never find us. We can be free."
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "This is another one of your tricks, isn't it? What are you up to this time?"
"This is not a trick, Jack," she said urgently. "We must leave now. Please, before we are caught."
The thought of them getting caught had him trembling and he stared at her, not able to keep the fear from showing in his expression. He struggled to school his features so that nothing of what he felt showed in his face, but she wasn't concerned with that anyway, she wanted out of there. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along after her, her laughter ringing through his ears as they ran through the maze of their master's quarters. He realized where she was heading and he stubbornly dug in his heels as he tried to stop her, but she was strong, too strong. "No," he said, almost pleading with her. "Don't do this Taria. Stop!" But she wouldn't listen, only laughed as she pulled him through the throne room while taunting him with the words she threw at Handar, their master. "No," he tried one more time to stop this madness, but it was too late. His heart sped up as he realized that Handar had the lightening rod in his hands, and he felt his insides turn to jelly when he realized what was going to happen next. "No," he yelled as he struggled to get away from the guards who had grabbed him, holding him down so that he would be an easy target for Handar's wrath.
He yelled out in pain when the weapon touched his arm, fighting against the hands that were trying to hold him down. He needed to get away and he cursed the guards and that bitch, Taria, cursed them to everlasting damnation. He swung his fists and kicked out at the bastards, feeling a satisfaction when his punches and kicks connected with flesh and bone. He wasn't strong enough though, as he felt a pinch in his arm and realized that he was losing in a big way. He stopped struggling as a weakness came over him and he stared up at Taria, her blue eyes turning to brown as he watched. The face he was looking at wasn't Taria, after all. It was the face of the doctor at the SGC and he realized that it had all been a dream. A particularly bad one, but a dream nonetheless and he felt himself calming down, knowing it was probably the sedative that he was given.
"Don't want to sleep," he pleaded with the Doc. "No more dreams," he added sleepily. "God, please…"
"It'll be all right," she said soothingly. He heard her through the haze and grabbed her hand, holding on to it to give him something to concentrate on - he just needed to stay awake. He could feel the softness of her fingers as they smoothed the skin on his forehead and he tried to pull away from them, knowing they were trying to make him relax.
"Please," he begged, totally ignoring the fact that he would not have stooped to begging if he had been one hundred percent himself.
"I'll stay with you," she promised, as she continued her ministrations. "I'll make sure someone stays with you."
"Please," he said again, or at least he thought he'd said it. He couldn't be sure, as the darkness took over a few seconds later.
He woke the next morning from a dreamless sleep to find a pair of beautiful blue eyes smiling at him and he panicked thinking of the betrayal those blue eyes had inflicted on his soul. It took a minute to realize that it wasn't Taria he was looking at, but Samantha Carter, a member of SG-1 and a close friend. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face when he realized who was holding his hand and his relief was evident as he felt himself relax.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Okay," he said warily. He couldn't help but wonder why she was with him instead of in her lab or off saving the world again.
"Really?" she asked, as she smiled at him. "We've been worried about you."
"Really," he responded. He tried to move his other hand only to find that he had been strapped down to the bed. He tried to calm the panic that was building up in him again, while glaring at Carter accusingly.
"It's just a precaution," she said, having apparently interpreted the glare correctly. "You put one SF in the infirmary and took out a couple more the last time you woke up. We're not taking any chances here." The smile she wore on her face was warm and he thought he saw something that look like pride in her expression.
He didn't respond, just stared at her, waiting for her to release him. Her smile faltered and she looked at their clasped hands for a moment. "I can't take the restraints off. Not until we know you won't try to kill us all again." She stroked her thumb across his hand as she asked, "Will you tell me what's going on, please?"
He stared into her eyes, much more beautiful than that traitorous bitch, Taria. He didn't see any deception in them, but then again, he thought he could trust Taria once upon a time.
"You're closing down on me, I can see it," Carter said, as she gripped his hand tighter. "Please don't shut me out. What happened to you on that planet that is making you act like this?"
"Like what?" he asked, even though he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear her version of his shame. He knew he was acting like a frightened child, but he couldn't hide from the fear, the anger and the hatred that had taken up residence in his soul. It was there taunting him, haunting him and he just wanted to hide from it all. He just hadn't figured out where to hide yet.
"Please Jack," she pleaded. He knew she was only calling him by his first name to try to gain his trust and his confidence, but he had already been burned once, literally, and he didn't plan to let that happen ever again.
He just stared at her. He knew what the others were thinking, that he was a madman, holding court in his own mind and fighting off demons that didn't exist. She was pretty courageous sitting there with him alone in his jail cell, while the others believed the worse. Granted he was strapped down to the bed and there was a guard standing on the other side of the bars, but they both knew he could shred her to pieces with just words if he'd wanted to. He'd done it before when he had to pretend he was an unhappy old bastard that had taken to stealing alien technology from the Tollan. He had hurt her badly then, he could do it again.
Instead he turned his attention to the bunk above him, choosing to ignore her. How could he tell her what he went through when he couldn't even begin to think about it without falling apart? There was no way he was going back there, even in his memories, and it was a constant struggle, compounded by his nightmares, to not even think about that place. He was determined to put it all behind him.
She sighed when she realized that she wasn't going to get very far. He waited for her to get up and leave, but was surprised when she asked him if he wanted to play cards. He turned to stare at her in amazement, then raised his arm as far as the straps would let him, while at the same time nodding his head toward the binds around his wrist.
"If you promise not to beat the crap out of me, physically, that is, I'll let you go," she said with a smile. "I won't put you back into the restraints if you beat me at cards though."
"I promise," he said, staring at her smile. Carter's smile was nowhere near as cold as Taria's had been. Even after they had consummated their relationship, Taria's smile had lacked warmth of any degree. He should have realized then that the bitch didn't have a heart.
"Will I ever get to see you smile again?" Carter asked, breaking into his thoughts, morbid that they were. The question had shocked him as he knew he hadn't expressed his thoughts out loud, although now that he thought about it, he didn't think he would ever find anything to smile about.
"Maybe," he replied noncommittally. "The binds?" he asked, trying to lift his arm again.
"Oh sure," she said, reaching over to do the honors. She smiled at him again as she worked and he felt a measure of safety in her presence.
He sat up when he was finally released and he stared at her while he rubbed at the chaffing on his wrist. He could see she was becoming uncomfortable due to his staring, but he couldn't stop wondering what her ulterior motive for being there was. "What is it you want from me?" he finally asked.
"What?" she asked in surprise, looking up from the cards she had produced from her pocket.
"Why are you here?"
"I just want to spend some time with you, to try to help you," she said. "I was hoping you would open up to me and talk to me. Maybe tell me what's going on in your head."
He was back to staring at her again, wondering what had changed to cause her to think he would talk to her this time. He was notorious for not talking about his feelings or his fears even to his wife, what made her think he would be able to do so with her? Come to think of it, she rarely took the time to get him to talk.
"So what it'll be? Poker or rummy?" she asked, as she shuffled the cards.