Title: Freezer Burn

Author: Flatkatsi

Email: flatkatsi@optusnet.com.au

Status: Complete

Category: Hurt/comfort, Drama, Episode Tag

Pairings: None

Spoilers:  ‘The Fifth Race’, SG Atlantis ‘The Rising’, ‘It’s Good To Be King’

Season: 8

Sequel: Sequel to ‘Under His Gaze’

Rating: G

Content Warnings: None

File Size: 94kb

Archive: Incoming Wormhole, Jackfic

Summary: Jack was never comfortable with technology.

Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Author’s Note: Thanks to Nutty for the help as always, but this time the award goes to…….Dee!  She plotted with me and then beta’d the final result, and came up with the title when my sleep deprived brain refused to function.  Big hugs.

Freezer Burn

The moment his fingers touched the panels, it was back.  It writhed in his head, taunting him, but he fought it.  He was the one in control.  He had to be.

“Got any quarters?” 

After that first attempt he had forced himself into a flippant comment to hide just how much he didn’t want to be there.  He had been pleased, excited even, but as soon as he sat down he had wanted to get up, just as he had in Antarctica.  However, that had been different.  That was Earth.  He had know they would find a solution, and if they hadn’t he would have made himself go back.

This time it was him or no one.

Now he had no choice.

He could hear the Jaffa pounding on the hull, the sound of staff weapon blasts echoing.

Why had he agreed to do this?

He had jumped at the excuse to go off world, have a bit of excitement after months hemmed in by walls hundreds of feet underground. His mind had played tricks on him, told him it couldn’t have been that bad.  That the Antarctica device was a chair that controlled a whole complex – this was just a tiny little ship.  What was there to worry about?

This mission gave him the chance to get off world and have the added pleasure of seeing Harry again, because, if truth be told, he liked Harry – a lot.  Maybourne was as transparent as a beer glass, and just as much fun to keep company with.  When he had heard Harry had been made a king it had just seemed too good an opportunity to miss – go exchange a few jokes, tease him a little, get the Ancient ship working, and bring it home.

A piece of cake.

Oiy!

He concentrated.  Of course he did.  He hadn’t been unhappy when it didn’t work during those first few attempts.  Now part of him hoped Carter hadn’t managed to fix the damn thing, and that they could just wait the Jaffa out.

Leaving Daniel and Teal’c to Ares’ tender mercies.

And Maybourne.

And all his subjects.

Damn.

So he concentrated some more and felt the insidious tentacles infiltrating his mind, and he managed to speak through the effort of holding them at bay.

“I’m doing the best I can.”

But when the burst of pain told him it was working and Carter had been so relieved, he had smiled.  He sought the path he knew he had to follow and let it lead him, lifting the ship to head out to space as if he were a hawk seeking his prey.  Carter leaned over his shoulder, trying to help, and casting excited glances at him.  Once he even caught her eye as she told him he was doing great and she had grinned until the ship jolted, and he had been still in command enough of his own faculties to instinctively grin in return.

Up through the darkness of space he flew, straight into the heart of his enemy, all the while the fire growing behind his eyes, until he couldn’t hold it in any longer and the word came muttering from between his lips like a prayer.

“Weapons.”

And he became Death.

So very easily.

He wanted more, annoyed to find the weapons depleted.  He wanted to grind Ares’ mothership and everyone in it to pulp.

Grabbing a handful of himself, he pulled a cloak of normality around him, becoming the General once more.

And all the while, through the happy celebrations, the speeches, the platitudes, the sending of the ship through the gate, right up until he finally mounted those steps, holding a bunch of yellow flowers at his side, he thought he had beaten it.

He thought he had won.

Until he came out the other side.

 **********

Jack sat back, the hard leather of his new office chair squeaking annoyingly, raising a hand to massage his temple as he tiredly shut his eyes.  The headache that had flared with such intensity when his feet hit the ramp, seemed to have raised itself up a notch or two, despite the tablets the doctor prescribed, and he was beginning to wonder if he should give up on the paperwork and go home.

He never used to feel this way when he returned from a mission, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be either, so maybe it wasn’t just the knees that were going.

For a while there, back on Maybourne’s planet, he had felt alive – holding his P-90 in his hands, refusing to back down, the adrenaline pumping.

And Carter grabbing his sidearm like that.

He wasn’t going to let her live that one down any time soon.  He smiled.  Yes, he could get plenty of mileage out of that little incident.

Glancing at his watch, he decided to finish the report he was writing and leave early, get a good night’s sleep, and come in bright and early in the morning.

The decision made, he bent back to his task, his hands rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he worked.

 ***********

“Sir?  General?”

Jack shook himself awake and sat up, wondering for a second where he was.  The young face staring at him over the car seat came into focus, anxious expression and all.

“Is there a problem, Airman?”

The face immediately swung back to the front, but the eyes still tracked him in the car mirror.  “No, sir, no problem.  It’s just that we’re here, and you were asleep.”

Sitting straighter, Jack looked out the window, seeing the familiar sight of his own house in the fading light.  He must have been more tired than he thought to not wake when the car stopped.  Normally he was a lot more alert than that, hell - maybe it was best that his field days were virtually over.  If he’d slept like that on a mission…

He exited the car, giving the airman a quick ‘thanks’ as the man jumped to hold open the door for him, and entered the house.

His first inclination was to sit down with a cold beer in front of the television, but despite the temptation, he knew better.  If he did that he would end up falling asleep on the couch and probably wake in the early hours of the morning, starving and with a sore back.  Instead, he changed clothes and took a steak from the refrigerator, grilling it while putting together a salad.  He even ate at the table, sipping a glass of water, before swallowing another couple of the doctor’s pills. And then, studiously avoiding the television, he headed for bed.

 **********

The shrill call of the telephone woke him out of the soundest sleep he’d had in months, and as he groped blindly for the handset, he cursed whoever was calling.

“O’Neill.”

“Good morning, General.”

He thought for a moment, as his brain caught up with his actions.  “Walter?”

“Ah, yes, sir.  I was calling to remind you of your appointment at 0930 with General McPherson.”

“Why?”

There was a pause, before Sergeant Davis spoke again.  “It’s 0930 now, sir.”

Sure enough, a quick glance at his bedside clock confirmed Walter’s statement.  “Damn!  I must have slept through my alarm.  Give the general my apologies, and tell him I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”  Jack was already up and pulling out his clothes as he spoke.  He gave one last order before slamming down the receiver.  “Give him some doughnuts!”

What the hell was going on with him?  Tiredness was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.  At least his headache seemed to be gone.

 **********

It snuck up on him, ever so slowly, as the day progressed.  At first it was just an impression, the light slightly brighter near some people, easily explained by the sort of small power fluctuations that often occurred under the mountain, but when he finally asked Siler if there was a problem with the lighting he got a confused look, and then spent five minutes trying to explain why he’d asked without giving away anything.

After that, with his headache flaring at odd moments, he reluctantly turned his steps toward the infirmary.  He might ignore wounds where possible in a combat situation, but this was different. He had to be mentally alert to do his job as commander of the SGC and he wasn’t going to jeopardize lives because he refused to be treated for something as simple as a headache.  Perhaps it was his eyes that were the problem. He’d been constantly surprised, if pleasantly, that his eyesight seemed to be as good as it was when he was younger.  He put it down to the result of repeated visits to a sarcophagus and just wished he didn’t have Ba’al to thank for it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of hurrying footsteps, and turned to find Daniel pursuing him up the corridor.

It was right then that his eyes chose to really act up, the bright almost purple light flaring up from around his friend’s body at the same time as the pain lurking at the back of his skull chose to jump out and attack with a vengeance, the sudden sharp stabs making him stagger slightly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”  Daniel’s hand reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back onto an even keel.

“I’ve got one hell of a headache, and before you suggest it, I was heading for the infirmary just now.”  He pulled himself from Daniel’s grip.  “I’m okay, thanks.”

But he wasn’t.  He knew it, and going by the expression on the other man’s face, Daniel knew it too.

Which explained why he trailed along, subtly guiding Jack as they made their way slowly through the base.

By the time they walked into the infirmary, Jack felt like his head was about to explode, and he virtually had his eyes shut, blocking out the blinding light.  He didn’t even bother speaking, just walked in and straight to a chair, giving a heartfelt sigh as he sat.  For a moment Daniel’s hand pressed on his shoulder, then the doctor arrived, his voice showing his concern.

“General?”

Jack managed one brief muttered word, ”Headache,” before he bent over, holding his head and waited for it to fall off.

“I’d say it was more than a headache, sir.”

“Ya think!”  He swallowed down bile and kept his eyes resolutely closed.  He heard quiet voices – the doctor and Daniel, then his friend’s as he bent closer.

“Um....Jack...are you going to be okay?  I can stay if you want, but I think the doc wants me to go...less stress and all...”

He opened one eye, wincing.  “It’s just a headache.  I’ll be fine.”

Daniel’s departure heralded the beginning of a barrage of tests, all seemingly designed to make his headache, and he refused to call it a migraine, worse.  Surprisingly enough, his vision began to clear despite a penlight shining in his eyes, and, after swallowing down the pills he was handed, the throbbing pain lessened remarkably.

With strict orders to rest in his quarters, he was soon lying in the dark, his forearm over his eyes, and hoping this wasn’t a sign of things to come.  The doctor had suggested stress as a cause of migraines, but he never got migraines and didn’t intend to start now.  A quick check of his eyes had turned up nothing, but he was booked in for a full examination with a specialist tomorrow morning.

It wasn’t long before he was sound asleep.

 **********

Feeling somewhat groggy, and amazed that not only had he slept for several hours in the middle of the day, but that there had been no crisis requiring his attention, Jack made his way to the Control Room, only to find it a scene of quiet efficiency.  Mindful of the doctor’s instructions, and not wanting his headache to return, he spent an hour or so catching up on paperwork, then took a break, heading for the cafeteria.  Teal’c was already there, a large salad and fruit juice in front of him. Jack smiled, knowing that, although he wouldn’t admit it, the Jaffa was watching his weight since his symbiote was removed.

“Good afternoon, O’Neill.  Are you feeling any better?”

Jack smiled again, knowing that Daniel would have passed the news of his illness on to the rest of SG-1.  “Thank you, Teal’c, I am.  Feeling better and hungry as a horse.”  He took a seat opposite the other man, taking the dishes from the tray as he did so and placing them on the table.  Soon the General was deep in a discussion of the possible strategies of the system lords now that Ba’al was the top dog.

Finishing his meal, Jack walked with Teal'c until they reached Carter's door, and deciding he wanted to see the Colonel for a few moments, said his farewells and entered laboratory in search of her.  There were no teams due out for several hours, and those already off world were on assignments that would keep them there for at least another twenty-four hours, so a small side trip to see the Colonel could be justified.

He stopped just inside the door of the laboratory, watching as Carter moved between strange looking machinery perched on several tables, a screwdriver in her right hand.

“What’s that?”  He took pleasure in the fact he could still sneak up on her, and grinned as she jumped.

She flashed him a smile tinged with exasperation.  “SG-3 picked it up on PX5-627, sir.” At his obvious look of concern, she hurried to continue.  “It was in pieces, and as you can see, still is.  There doesn’t appear to be an active power supply so I’m assuming it was abandoned because it was faulty.  As for what it does…” she paused and gave the pile of strange tubes and buttons a glare.  “I’ve got no idea.”

Jack put out his hand to touch the object, but pulled it back before he completed the action, looking up at the Colonel as he did so, smiling.

A brief orange flash backlit the woman’s figure and he hurriedly looked down again, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Damn – here came the headache – not as vicious as earlier, but painful none the less.  He took a deep breath, counted to five, and opened his eyes to the worried frown of Carter.

“Do you have another migraine, sir?”

He shook his head, regretting the movement the second he made it.  “I don’t get migraines, Carter.  Never have.  It’s just a headache.”

“Uh huh.”

Somehow Jack had the feeling she wasn’t buying it.  The orange flared to a brighter red, and he couldn’t help taking a step back.  He swallowed, feeling the tightness growing behind his eyes.

“Maybe you should go see the doctor again, sir,”

“No.  I’ll go lie down in my quarters, Carter.  The doctor gave me some pills, I’ll take a couple more and see if that helps.”  At her anxious look he continued.  “If it hasn’t gone in an hour or so, I’ll see the doc again – promise.”

He left the lab, knowing there was no point asking Carter not to tell her teammates.  They would both know he wasn’t feeling well before he even reached his quarters – that was a given.

 **********

A knock on his door woke him, and he sat up, pleased to find the headache completely gone.  Those pills and a few hours sleep seemed to have done the trick again.

“Come.”

The door opened to admit a concerned Daniel Jackson.

“Hey, Jack.  Sam told me you had another migraine.”

“I keep telling everyone – it isn’t a migraine!”  His annoyance set his teeth on edge and his head thumping once more.  “Listen, Daniel, I’m going to go home. I don’t seem to be able to get any peace here.”  Jack knew he was being short tempered but already the light from the corridor behind the silhouetted figure of the other man was sending him very strong warning signals.

Daniel raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture.  “Okay, Jack, okay.  Do you want me to drive you?”

Jack raised a weary hand to the bridge of his nose, just wishing he was somewhere dark and quiet, where there was no one talking at him.  He made himself speak slowly and calmly.  “No thanks, Daniel.  I appreciate the offer, but I’ll get a driver – I know you’ve got a mission to prepare for early tomorrow morning.”

“If you’re sure?”

“I am.  Don’t worry.  I just need a good night’s sleep.”

And a gag, was his ungrateful thought as his friend followed him up the corridor.  By the time he was in his car, he was wishing not only that he was dead, but that the archeologist was too.

He slumped down in the back seat and prayed he’d make it home before he threw up.

 **********

He did.

Just.

Then he spent a very unhappy ten minutes with a mop, cleaning it off the kitchen floor.

The unpleasant task completed, Jack had a quick shower and fell into bed.

 **********

“And how are we this morning, campers?”  General O’Neill beamed at the faces around the table, ignoring their pained expressions.

He couldn’t help being in a good mood.  The eye test had been no problems – apparently he had the vision of a man half his age – and he hadn’t had a headache for days.  Everything was going well; his paperwork was up to date, there had been no sudden crisis, no teams stuck offworld, no sign of the system lords.  Nothing.

And SG-1 was due back in an hour, right on schedule.

Even the prospect of sitting through a budget strategy meeting couldn’t destroy his good humor.  He’d taken the day off after his last headache, relaxed and felt all the better for the time at home.  He’d gone for a walk, and done some gardening, only the eye appointment at the Academy Hospital breaking into the day. 

Whatever the cause, the headaches were gone.

And he was a very happy general.

An hour later he was still happy, and his good mood had managed to infect the rest of the staff, everyone going about their tasks with what seemed to be extra enthusiasm.  The announcement of an incoming wormhole was met with no undue concern, and when SG-1’s iris code was received the General nodded and decided to greet them personally.

He entered the gate room just as the iris retracted and the event horizon burst forth, a sight that never failed to give him a feeling of awe even after all these years.

 **********

SG-1 walked through the gate, Sam in the lead, with Daniel close on her heels, followed by Teal’c. They smiled at the sight of the General as he reached the base of the ramp.

“Hi there, kids. Have fun?”  He came to a halt, and they could see the moment the headache hit, his expression changing from a smile of welcome, to a grimace and then to the sort of screwed up frown of someone trying to hold back pain.

“Sir?”  Sam reached him before anyone else, just in time to try and control his slow descent to the floor.

“Medical team to the gate room.”

They clustered around him, kneeling, bending over, crouching down, as he moaned and pulled his arm out from under himself, his hand wiping at his face.

It came away covered in the blood that ran from his ears and nose.

 **********

“I have some good news.”  The doctor placed a file on his desk and wearily sat.  “General O’Neill is resting comfortably, the bleeding has stopped and the pain seems to have diminished.”  He looked down, and turned the page.  “However, the MRI has shown some surprising results.”

“Such as?”  Colonel Reynolds beat Colonel Carter to the question by a fraction of a second.

The two officers waited as the doctor clipped a series of images to his light board then began to point.

“See here, this part of the General’s brain is showing signs of increased activity in areas not normally used.”

“What!”  Colonel Carter was on her feet and up, peering at the images before he had finished speaking.  “This looks awfully familiar.”

The doctor nodded.  “I agree, Colonel.  These scans show marked similarities to those in the General’s file, taken after the Ancient repositories were downloaded, both the first and the second time.  However…”  He pointed to an area showing bright red, “this is different.  Trouble is, I haven’t been able to interpret its meaning as yet.”

“Are you telling me that General O’Neill has had more Ancient knowledge put into his brain somehow?”  Colonel Reynolds’ tone of voice displayed his astonishment at the suggestion.

“The results aren’t identical to the earlier scans.”  He pointed again.  “See here, and here – these areas seem dormant and yet they showed the most activity in the previous MRIs.  And these areas…”  He pointed again, “Are showing activity where they previously weren’t.”

“But the headaches seemed to come and go – when the Ancient repositories were downloaded before, the General was constantly being affected by them.  That wasn’t happening this time.”  Carter sat again, thinking.  “They began soon after we returned from Maybourne’s planet.  Could it be that contact with the Ancient’s ship triggered them?”  She looked back at the MRIs, shaking her head.  “I think we need to get in touch with Thor.”

 **********

“Jack?”  Despite Daniel’s whispered greeting, O’Neill groaned.  He had been in the infirmary for three days now, days that seemed to be nothing short of torture.  One minute he was fine, ready to leap out of bed and take on the world, or worlds, the next he was moaning in agony as his head imploded and his blood was squeezed out his ears and nose.  Having the nose bleed to end all nose bleeds was bad enough, but he was sure he was developing swimmers ear from the fluid constantly clogging them.

“Any word on Thor?”  He couldn’t help the second moan that escaped when the other man shook his head, and he felt the telltale warmth of fresh blood running down his cheeks.

“I’ll get Doctor Shadbolt.”  Daniel made to turn away, but Jack grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t bother.  It’s not like he can do anything.”

There wasn’t any answer to that, so Daniel pulled the chair over towards the bed and sat, crossing his arms, settling in for the long haul.  Jack shut his eyes, trying to quell the pounding going on inside his head.

He heard the soft tiptoe of footsteps, and then the tug of the IV as another cocktail of drugs was fed into his veins.  The trouble was, nothing seemed to work anymore.  He kept his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them the nausea would be overpowering, and stayed as still as possible while the blood was cleaned and a new pillow was placed under his head.  Even the gentleness shown by the nurse as she lifted his head wasn’t enough to prevent the pain of movement.

He knew they were doing everything they could to not aggravate his condition, keeping the lights dimmed, speaking and moving as quietly as possible, but the pain still came and went with unpredictable irregularity.  Carter and the doctor had explained they thought it had something to do with his contact with the Ancient ship.

He just knew Harry had to be to blame somehow.

“How is he?”  Carter must have come to visit.  He couldn’t hear Daniel’s whispered reply, but knew he hadn’t pulled any punches when the Colonel’s hand briefly brushed along his arm.  She must be really worried.  She didn’t try and speak to him – they had established early on that any attempt at speech could send him into a downward spiral of agony.

There was one odd thing about that though.  He never felt the pain when Teal’c visited, but then T’s nature was to be quiet, and he didn’t seem to feel the need to hold a conversation, just sitting, his comforting presence allowing Jack to sleep.

“You still haven’t translated that inscription?”  He could just hear Carter’s murmured words as she spoke to Daniel.

“No, I’ve been carrying it around for weeks now, hoping inspiration would strike.  Apart from it being of Ancient origin I haven’t been able to discover any more.”

Jack forced his eyes open, trying to see what they were talking about and only succeeding in establishing that the killer lights were back with a vengeance.

The heart monitor went into overdrive.

 **********

“It’s directly related to his exposure to Ancient technology, I’m sure of it!”  Sam paced backwards and forwards, her hands gesturing wildly in a very uncharacteristic outward show of frustration.  “Look at what happened when Daniel took that object from his pocket.”  She stopped, almost glaring at her listeners as if defying them to disagree.  “There’s a clear pattern in the General’s illness.”

“I agree, Colonel Carter.  His symptoms were pronounced in your laboratory, and from what General O’Neill could tell me, they peaked when in the presence of Doctor Jackson.”

Daniel frowned at the doctor’s words and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “I didn’t realize.  Every time I went near him with that thing in my pocket he must have been in agony.”

“You were not to know, Daniel Jackson.”  Teal’c interrupted the conversation for the first time.  “But I do not see how this knowledge helps O’Neill.”

The others looked at him in astonishment, Daniel the first to speak.  “Of course it does.  We can keep all Ancient technology from Jack.  It means he won’t be able to help with the ship we found on Maybourne’s planet, but I’m sure we will be able to get information from it regardless of that.”

“And the chap’pai?  You intend to keep O’Neill from that also?”

There was total silence, broken long moments later by Daniel’s heartfelt exclamation.

“Hell!”

 **********

“Well, that’s just peachy!”  General O’Neill’s voice, although still weak and strained, could be heard through the whole infirmary.

“It isn’t that bad, Jack.  You don’t have to go near the Gate.  The effect seemed to be confined to the gate room.  And now I’ve gotten rid of that Ancient tablet I was carrying around, I can visit you.”

Jack glared up at the other man.  “And here I was thinking you were trying to cheer me up.”  He ignored Daniel’s muttered protests as he took the pillows from behind his back, pounding them into softness, and bent forward to stuff them back, frowning all the while.  “That isn’t an option you know.”

“What isn’t?”  Daniel looked puzzled.  “My visiting you?”

“No.  Not going near the Gate.  We have to find Thor.  He was supposed to have cured me.  Doesn’t seem to have done much of a job of it does he?”  He pointed a finger at Daniel, and in the best command voice he could muster under the circumstances, ordered, “Go find him and tell him to fix me or I want my money back.”

 **********

“I can only offer my apologies once more, O’Neill.”

Jack wasn’t in the mood to forgive easily.  It had taken almost three weeks for Thor to show up, three weeks that he had spent either at home or in Washington. 

Avoiding any contact with Ancient technology had been much harder than they had first thought, and he had ended up being a sort of Ancient detector before the resulting, almost life threatening, hemorrhaging had seen him a guest in the Academy Hospital as blood was pumped into him by the gallon.  It had only been because of some very swift talking by the SGC doctors that he hadn’t been admitted into the neurosurgical ward.

Days later he had finally stepped through his own front door, only to find the headache sending his blood pressure through the roof again.  Those Ancients certainly got around, the photo album with that cute little piece of metal engraved with a meaningless symbol, found on some nameless planet, that Teal’c had given him for his birthday a few years ago, being the culprit that time.

And hadn’t that just been so much fun to find! 

So off he’d gone to Washington to explain everything in person to the President and the Joint Chiefs, while Carter had run a fine toothed comb over his house.  Bet she’d had a good laugh at his Marvin the Martin boxers.

Thor had deigned to show up just this morning, and had beamed Jack straight up to his ship to run tests.

Then another moment of pure pain when Jack discovered, albeit briefly, just how much Ancient technology the Asgard had misappropriated as their own.  He vaguely remembered having some sort of massive seizure before waking up in an Asgard medipod, from which Thor still hadn’t removed him.

Hence the explanation whilst Jack lay down on the job.

Seemed his buddy, Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet, had been so anxious to have Jack find a weapon against the Replicators that he hadn’t bothered with the finer points of checking the latest download.

He would have known, if he had bothered to ask Carter, Teal’c, or Daniel, that Jack’s transformation had been much further along than the previous time. 

The remains of the first repository had been the building blocks on which the second had been built, sort of, from what Jack could work out, like a computer program that needed other software to run.  And run it had, the combination of the Ancient gene he processed and the first repository, allowing it to take hold.  But his body hadn’t been able to take the strain, failing at the same time as the data in his brain was being reformatted.

Instead of healing his body and allowing the download to run its course, Thor had ripped it out, leaving pieces behind, pieces that were desperately trying to complete the programming and had nowhere to go.  The Ancient ship had been the catalyst, setting the formatting the chair had originally started in motion again, but without the correct paths to follow it had sent his brain into overdrive.

Now it appeared, he needed a patch.

He just hoped it didn’t have the same problems as Service Pack 2.

Although perhaps a firewall might be a good idea.

“And how exactly are you going to repair the damage?”  Jack crossed his arms, feeling somewhat at a disadvantage, lying on his back wearing nothing but his ominous glare.

“The only solution I can offer is the completion of the original data transfer.  We have repaired your physical body once more, and the process would be quite straight forward.  Your mind was already attempting to complete the process, hence your extraordinarily long periods of slumber over the past weeks.”

“And there I was thinking I was just tired.”  Jack shifted his hands, trying to appear nonchalant as he positioned them a trifle lower.  “So let’s get moving.  Fix it.”

Thor opened his eyes wider, which Jack had worked out was the Asgard equivalent of a headshake.  “We cannot ‘fix it’, O’Neill.  The Ancients were much more advanced than we are in this area.”

“But you said the process was straightforward!”

“As it is, O’Neill, however we need to use Ancient equipment to carry it out.”

A sinking feeling started in the pit of Jack’s stomach and moved its way rapidly to his toes.

“What Ancient equipment?” he made himself ask.

“The chamber in which you were placed in the Antarctic.”

“No.”  Short and emphatic.

“It is the only way, O’Neill.  The process needs to be completed.”

Crap!

“How long would it take?”

Thor blinked again.  “There is no way of knowing, but from what I have been told the process was well underway when you were placed in the chamber, and would have continued while you were in stasis.”

Lying as he was, Jack couldn’t run away, much though he wanted to, so he did the next best thing.

“Could you give me a minute alone to think about it?”

And he thought about it – long and hard.

He could transfer to Washington.  Fly a desk and never go offworld again.  It wasn’t like he got to do that much these days anyway.

But, boy it had been a headrush when he had those locals in his sights on Maybourne’s planet.  And that firefight with the Jaffa had sure gotten the adrenaline pumping through his old arteries.

Did he really want to give that up?

Hell no!

And who would be there watching his people go through the gate, and being there when they got back if he gave up the position?  Who could he trust to look after them?

He really didn’t have a choice.

 **********

“You’re sure about this, sir?”

Jack looked at the small coffin shaped box, and had a sudden memory of another time he had been confined in a space as cramped.  Except this time he wasn’t being shoved in by his guards, he was walking in voluntarily.

He shuddered.

He could do this.  This time he had his friends watching his back.

He turned back, and nodded, seeing the worried expressions on their faces.

“Yeap, I’m sure.  Don’t worry, I’ve done it before – it’s a piece of cake.  And speaking of which, remember to save me some if I miss your birthday Daniel.”

He looked around, feeling all the eyes on him.  They had taken down the partitions after he had been beamed out before, but he knew, although he hadn’t asked, that they were to be erected once more, concealing him from their stares.  It must have been strange for them, knowing he was there the first time, but even stranger now, now they had met him, spoken with him.

He could see Colin and Melody Godwin off to one side, their hands touching, and wondered what they thought of all this.  Probably wished the circus would go home so they could get back to work.  There were some familiar faces from his last visit missing – Susan Pritchard was one.  She had gone to the Pegasus Galaxy, along with McKay and so many others.  He wondered, not for the first time, if they’d ever see them again.

He sighed, knowing this introspection was just a delaying tactic on his part, so he smiled and stepped towards the opening.

“See you soon, kids.” And he turned to face them, feeling the cold already seeping into his veins. 

Just for a moment he panicked, his heart beating frantically in his chest, but he held himself firm as the thin layer of ice formed across his eyes, and he fell into the darkness.

 a

 **********

This time they were waiting when he woke.  This time they hadn’t left his side.

Thor had been correct, it was only a few days before the alarms Carter had set up to warn them started ringing.

The ice melted without trace, leaving the General looking as if he was just waking from a short nap.

He took a step out, and stood, looking somewhat puzzled for a moment, as if listening to something unheard.

And then he smiled.

“I’m baaaaaack.”

The End