**********
Sam stared at Ferretti in disbelief. She could hear him talking with the prisoner. One word stood out above all the rest. Inquisitor.
She must have been mistaken. She must have misunderstood.
She knew she hadn’t.
She sat on the grass, feeling faint and nauseous. While she had been hiding here with Teal’c the Colonel was being tortured. They should have gone into the town as soon as their teammates disappeared. They should have saved them, got them out, made a run for the gate.
Instead, she had opted for the ‘safe’ plan. Gone for backup, leaving the others to face who knew what.
She heard footsteps in the soft grass and looked up to find Teal’c towering over her. What must he think of her? He had obeyed her orders, but she knew that it had been reluctantly, although he had never come right out and said it.
“Major Carter, you should see the medic. Your wounds need tending.” Someone who didn’t know him as well as she did would have thought the words unemotional, but she could hear the underlying concern.
“They aren’t anything to worry about, Teal’c.” she answered wearily.
“I agree. They are minor, however you must be at your best for the task ahead.”
She questioned him with a look and he continued, “We will be leaving soon to rescue our comrades. Already Major Ferretti has requested that another team be sent through the gate. We will leave the prisoners guarded and enter the town in force.” He paused as if considering his next words before speaking. “We could have done nothing else, Major Carter. It would have been foolhardy to attempt a rescue without more men. With the help of the others we will rescue Colonel O’Neill and Daniel Jackson and bring them home safely. I am certain of this.”
Sam nodded. If Teal’c was certain they would rescue their friends, then it must be so. He had a confidence about him that would allow no other outcome.
She climbed to her feet, gratefully accepting the helping hand held out to her, and dusted off her uniform. She would get her injuries seen to, and try to eat something in the few minutes while they waited for the other team to arrive. She needed to keep her strength up, the two days of staying just ahead of their pursuers having taken its toll. She would allow herself a few minutes rest.
Then they would rescue the Colonel and Daniel.
There was no other possible outcome.
**********
Daniel pushed the heavy stone door aside, trying to calm his racing heart. The sudden glare of the torches made his eyes blur, blinding him for a moment as he strained to see into the large room.
The rack was empty.
Where was Jack?
He moved forward, staying concealed in the alcove, keeping as close to the opening as possible. There were men here, over on the far side of the dungeon, men bending over something. It was that accused chair! They had Jack in the chair.
Daniel didn’t stop to think, the horror of what he had already seen reverberated in heavy accompaniment with the pounding of his head. He rushed forward, his torch raised high, logic nowhere in sight.
The crouching men turned in surprise, leaving the chair exposed.
Empty.
Daniel came to a screeching halt, the cloths and bucket self-explanatory even to his addled brain. They had been cleaning it, washing Jack’s blood away.
So where was Jack? What had they done with Jack?
The familiar voice cut through his thoughts as he stood there, the torch slowly dropping from his hand.
“God has delivered the servant into our hands once more. He will lead us to his master.”
The realization that he had made a dreadful mistake sunk in as the hands grabbed Daniel, pulling him forward to face the white face of the Pater.
He had failed.
He had left Jack alone in the dark.
Daniel struggled vainly, twisting in an effort to free himself. The only result was laughter from the men holding him as the Pater watched with a small thin-lipped smile. Desperation lent him strength, and he redoubled his efforts, managing to land a hard kick on the leg of the man in front of him. For a brief moment he thought he was gaining the upper hand, but more hands joined the fight, pinning his arms behind his back.
He raised his head, a feeling of hopelessness washing over him, to meet the gaze of the Pater.
“There is no point in struggling. My men have the power of the Lord on their side.” His hand reached out and grabbed Daniel’s chin, tugging his face upwards. “You would do well to tell me where your master is hiding. Redeem your soul, before you are judged by God.”
“We are just explorers! If you’d only let me explain!” Daniel tried one more time, his voice frantic, knowing even as he spoke that it would do no good.
He almost missed the man’s gesture, the direction to take Daniel to the rack. He tried to struggle once more, digging his heels into the floor, and pushing as hard as he could backward with his hands. All to no avail. He soon found himself lying on the rough wooden surface.
He was terrified.
Daniel had seen what they had done to Jack. He knew he wasn’t as strong as his friend, didn’t have those long built reserves of strength that Jack had developed over the years, but he would try. There was no way he would tell this bastard where Jack was.
No way.
As his wrists and ankles were tethered to the machine, he took a deep breath and prayed for courage.
***********
Lou Ferretti turned and glanced back to where Sam Carter was walking at the rear of the party. She looked tired – that was to be expected, but it was more than that. She had been distant when he had tried to talk to her earlier. He had seen her face while he had been questioning the prisoner, and knew that he had to explain.
He fell back, waiting for Sam to come along side him.
“Hey, Sam.” She took a moment to look up, as if she hadn’t registered his presence. That wasn’t normal for the usually alert major. “You okay?”
The smile he got in reply didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure, Lou. Just a bit tired.”
They walked on in silence for a few meters while Ferretti tried to think of the best way to make Sam understand.
“Listen, Sam, I’m sorry if anything I’ve done has upset you.”
Sam’s head came up from it’s lowered position. “What?” Her voice was startled. From her expression it really seemed like she had no idea what he was talking about.
“I know that I should have let Teal’c question the prisoner.” He gestured to where the local man was walking ahead of them, flanked by the members of SG-10. “He has a lot more experience in these matters than I do.”
“That did puzzle me, Lou, but I wasn’t upset by it. I knew that you must have had a good reason.”
“I did. There was something about the way he was talking. Sam, did you know I’m Catholic?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’ve always been fascinated by the history of the Church, and especially the Inquisition. I saw the way he looked at Teal’c and combined with what he was saying, I put two and two together.”
Sam nodded again. “I can see that, but how did you persuade him to trust you?”
“I told him Teal’c had to be purged of his sins to gain salvation, and that God had sent me to give him the opportunity to repent, because he was only recently fallen.” He looked up to see her reaction, and was pleased to see her smile. “He thinks that I am a spy for the Lord.” He didn’t smile back. The whole situation was making him angrier than he had been in years. These men were perverting everything that he loved about his faith. He continued. “I’m sorry that I just jumped in and took over without explaining.”
Sam shook her head, stumbling slightly as she stepped over a small ditch. She was obviously exhausted, but he knew there was no point trying to get her to return to the SGC, not while Jack and Daniel were still missing.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me, Lou. You’re the senior officer here.”
“I know, Sam., but I value your opinion.”
“I appreciate that.” Sam replied, “But the main thing is that we get results. How we get them is immaterial, we have to find the most expedient way to rescue the Colonel and Daniel.”
Lou stopped, putting out a hand to halt the woman.
“Here, Sam, drink this.” He unhooked his canteen and handed it to her, waiting until she had taken a few swallows before speaking again, his voice low. “I’m worried too, Sam. I keep thinking about the descriptions I’ve read of the Inquisition.” The drawings of torture instruments he had pored over as a teenager suddenly didn’t seem so fascinating.
Sam handed the canteen back to him, her hand shaking a little. “I know, Lou. I can’t get them out of my head either.”
They didn’t speak again as they hurried to catch up with the others. There was no need. Lou knew what Sam was thinking. He was thinking the same thing, but he could not voice it either.
They may be too late.
**********
Jack woke a few times, each one a haze of confusion. Once he tried to get to his feet, but found he didn’t have the strength, so he stayed on the ground. He also tried to stay as still as possible, even as his shoulder muscles kept clenching in ever worsening spasms. Staying still seemed to help the pain in his chest. The numb feeling that was spreading through his body was a huge improvement on the way he had felt before.
He didn’t think that he could have stood that for much longer.
He didn’t wonder why the lights were out anymore. He just accepted that was how it was.
He didn’t think about the whys anymore. He only thought about the now, and welcomed the numbness.
**********
Daniel shut his eyes and waited for the same question to be repeated.
“Where is your master?”
He flinched, the sound of the club moving through the air giving him some warning. This time the blow landed on his chest, causing the air in his lungs to explode from his mouth in a strangled yelp.
So far they had been fairly restrained in their interrogation, restricting themselves to the use of the wooden club. Perhaps they were softening him up to make the rack’s job easier. He didn’t care, he knew this was pain he could handle. His head was throbbing worse than ever, and he was sure a few more blows would send him into welcome oblivion.
Then he remembered what they had done to Jack when he had been unconscious.
He fought to stay awake, opening his eyes and straining to speak.
“You don’t have to do this. I’m not going to tell you where my friend is.”
“But I do have to do this.” Yleek’s slightly nasal voice answered. “God has entrusted me with this task and I will complete it. I will find your master, and when I do I will bring down the wrath of the Lord upon him, so that the Devil will know he cannot prevail.”
Daniel tugged at the ropes binding him to the rack. “You must have had contact with the Goa’uld. We saw one of their machines in your square.” He saw no recognition in the Pater’s eyes. “The demons – the warriors with tattoos on their foreheads – they are Jaffa, they are the Goa’uld’s servants.” He finally saw some glimmer of interest and hurried on. “We are at war with the Goa’uld and their Jaffa. Our companion, Teal’c – the one you call a demon – he no longer follows the Goa’uld. He fights alongside us in our war against them.”
He felt the Pater’s hand caress his cheek, almost gently. “Honeyed words. For a moment you swayed me with their power, but I know to distrust anything a servant of the Devil says. Far from being at war with the demons, you are plainly in league with them.” He turned to one of the watching men. “Fetch the brand. This follower of Satan needs to feel the Lord’s mark upon him” He kept speaking as the man hurried towards the back wall. “Seeing as you agree that the tattoo on the demon’s face is the Devil’s mark, I will be merciful by placing the Lord’s mark in the same place.”
Daniel struggled frantically. There was no reasoning with this man.
He could almost feel the heat of the brand on his forehead. He vividly remembered the smell of burning flesh when the hot metal had been pressed into Jack.
Oh God! He didn’t know if he could hold out against that. He just didn’t.
“Pater Yleek!” The call made the priest turn, his hand dropping from Daniel’s cheek. “There’s an opening here!”
“Stay here. Watch him.” The Pater ordered, before hurrying towards the voice. Before long he was back, leaning over Daniel, a triumphant smile on his face. “Your hiding place has been found. God has shown me the way forward. Soon your master will be in my hands.”
With a thrill of horror, Daniel realised he was to be the instrument of Jack’s capture. He had left the passage door open, it’s discovery inevitable once their attention was no longer fixed on him.
Jack would be defenceless against these men.
**********
The three SG teams met little resistance from the townspeople. It seemed that the parties of hunting Sam and Teal’c, and the guards at the gate, had contained the most militant inhabitants. The people that remained seemed almost glad to see them. Sam couldn’t help wondering what sort of life they must lead if they welcomed an armed force of aliens so readily.
Sam only spared the machine that had caused this whole problem in the first place a brief glance as they passed it in the square. From closer up, its gold was pitted and missing in places, its lustre lost with the passage of time. A gaudy remnant left behind, discarded.
Their prisoner led them to a small, nondescript building, the only feature making it different to the ones around it being the crosses positioned over the main door. Here they finally had a fight on their hands, the men waiting inside the entrance dying rather than surrendering. It only took a few minutes, but the fight was fierce and bloody, ending with several of their party suffering minor wounds, despite their superior weaponry.
They searched for any sign of the missing men, investigating several rooms before opening the heavy, black door to the dungeon. They negotiated the stairs carefully, peering into the darkness, involuntarily clenching their nostrils against the sweet smell that drifted upwards towards them.
Sam’s attention was focused on only one thing – the figure tied to the table. She barely registered the struggles around her as men fought for supremacy as she hurried to his side.
Daniel.
He bore the marks of heavy blows, his skin bruised across his chest.
She began untying him, swiftly cutting the heavy ropes with her knife, looking around as she did so, her eyes passing over the items in the room as swiftly as possible while searching for the other lost member of the team. She spotted Teal’c swiftly dispatching a knife wielding man before she lost sight of him as he moved further into the shadows. She briefly wondered where he could be going, but her attention was taken by a more pressing need.
She turned back to the man lying in front of her. “Daniel?” His eyes stared up at her, unfocused. “Where’s the Colonel?”
For a moment she thought he would answer, then his eyes rolled up in his head, and their lids shut.
“Daniel!” There was no response.
“He’s not here!” Lou Ferretti came from the gloom, the beam of light from his flashlight darting around, illuminating each terrible object in turn. It halted on a spot on the floor, liquid glistening.
Blood.
Fresh blood.
Sam turned back to Daniel – he had no obviously bleeding wounds. She moved her own torch, searching.
The bucket and cloth next to that chair….oh god! The spikes still held pieces of what looked like skin.
The brand discarded beside the fire.
The realisation that Daniel was lying on a rack.
The hooked spikes of metal, looking for all the world like a clawed hand.
Her flashlight tracked back to Lou, his face pale in the darkness. They had been told what to expect, but the reality was worse than they could ever have imagined.
He wasn’t there.
Colonel O’Neill wasn’t there.
**********
“Pater?”
Yleek knew what Kelk was asking. He too could hear the sound of fighting coming from behind them, but he did not reply. Whatever was happening back there, it was not as important as his current mission. The follower of the Devil would not escape this time, even if all the fiends of Hell were treading on his heels.
He gave an impatient gesture for his companion to follow, and strode on, thrusting his torch ahead of him to ward off the darkness. The light exposed the dust clad walls and floor of the stone passage extending into the distance, several dark openings showing that it was not as straight as it first appeared.
Yleek had heard rumors of such tunnels under the town, but had dismissed them as fanciful. He now knew better.
He sped up, anxious to find his prey. His anger grew as he thought of the arrogance of the man – the way he had defied him, refused to confess his sins. There was no way that such a one could be saved, he deserved to burn in Hell, and Yleek could hardly wait to send him there.
And send him there he would.
He spotted the tracks in the thick dust and smiled.
The Lord was showing him the way.
**********
That was a definite improvement. The pain had moved from his knees and legs, travelled across his chest, up his arm and seemed to have exited, with a last flash of agony, out the top of his head.
He definitely felt better now. Sort of a floating, wavering, distant better. A not quite all here feeling, like a few sandwiches short of a picnic, better.
Speaking of sandwiches – he was hungry.
And thirsty. Damn, was he thirsty!
It would take too much effort to get a drink for himself. He would just wait and ask the next person who passed if they would be kind enough to get one for him. Maybe it would be Daniel. Daniel had given him a drink before, back in the…
In the…
Now that was odd. Where had that been?
He had to concentrate.
Daniel had been with him, then he had gone, turning out the lights.
No – that wasn’t right either.
He had turned out the lights himself, when he left the other room.
It was very dark in here. Maybe it wasn’t dark. Maybe he was blind.
He should check.
Jack’s left hand twitched as the damaged muscles tried to move. Apart from the small motion he lay completely still at the edge of the tunnel, dust settling on his clothes, covering them in a thin layer of grey.
He couldn’t prevent the moan from escaping when the numbness was dispelled a little by the movement.
Memo to self – stay completely still and hope it goes away.
He didn’t see the dull flickering lights that had begun to pass the side passage, stop and move towards him.
He had shut his eyes again.
Someone would come for him. He just needed to wait for them to find him.
The grasp of a hand on his arm brought Jack into an abrupt and terrible reality. He writhed away from the touch, trying to put some distance between himself and the source of the pain, unfortunately the source seemed to be attached to him. All he managed to achieve was a few inches squirmed into the dust and a blast of agony that seared through every part of him, shoving the numbness back.
“I have found you.”
He knew that voice, and opening his eyes, squinting in the light, he knew the face. The sudden clarity was terrifying. In a rush, it all returned – the torture, the questions, the demands. The escape.
Except he hadn’t escaped.
The Inquisitor was here.
He had been found.
Something inside him that had stayed firm and strong all these years, endured countless indignities of body and soul, snapped.
Maybe it was as it should be.
There must be a time to give up and accept what you know is to come.
A time to stop fighting.
A time to accept fate.
“Do you repent?”
The pale face glowed eerily in the torch light, the almost black eyes piercing in their intensity.
Piled years of guilt crumbled and engulfed him, and his heart lurched in his chest, causing him to shudder.
The watching man smiled as the tremor shook him.
“Do not despair, the Lord will be merciful. I ask again, do you repent?”
The last shred of who he was made him shake his head.
“I will allow you more time. God has shown me the way, and I am his instrument of redemption.” Jack could see the spit forming at the corners of the Pater’s lips, as he raised something above his head.
“Repent!” The word was shot out along with the spit, as the heavy metal bar was driven down, hitting his right leg below the knee. The strength of the blow snapped the bone like a twig.
Jack couldn’t help it. All dignity had left him. He screamed, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls.
“Do you now repent?”
Jack tried to answer, but the words would not come. All he could manage to do was to reach his good hand out in supplication.
The Pater leaned over him, his anticipation showing in the uplifted lips.
“You refuse, so I must send you to meet your judgement with your soul still stained by Satan. I will endeavour to give you time to reconsider as you make your journey to our Lord.”
The words were a meaningless jumble, beyond Jack’s ability to understand, until the torch was lowered.
His body reacted before his mind, ignoring its injuries to push up and away. But there was nowhere to go. His eyes tracked the flame as it touched his clothes, watched in stunned fascination as it grew. The licking heat mixed with his pain and grew until it became beyond his power to hold back the screams.
Fate had dealt him the hand he deserved.
He would burn in Hell.
************
Teal’c let the body fall to the ground, the danger from that source past and therefore no longer important. He looked swiftly around, noting that the fight was coming to an end with his companions victorious. He was beginning to move back to where Major Carter was bending over their teammate, when a movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye. He just managed to glimpse two figures disappearing into a patch of darkness before they vanished from view.
It only took a split second to make the decision to follow. The situation in the dungeon was under control, but O’Neill was still missing and the fleeing men might have useful information.
The doorway gaped open. Teal’c had no time to inform the others; already the gleam of the torches the men carried had disappeared around a distant corner. He ran forward, hoping to reduce the gap, planning to stay out of sight and follow until he knew exactly what the men were doing.
The dust blew up in clouds as he ran; already the air was thick with it. There were many branching tunnels, and he took care to remember the route, something his training allowed him to do without much effort. He took a right turn, realising that the passages branched more often in this section, and stopped, looking down. He had no way of knowing which direction the men had taken. There were three tunnels to choose from, and the tracks on the floor were scuffed and unreadable, making it impossible to deduce anything from them.
There was no choice. He had to decide.
He moved into the left hand tunnel, hoping he had made the right decision, his flashlight searching the darkness ahead of him.
When the tunnel opened out into a wider space, Teal’c knew he had guessed correctly. A small fire still glowed dully in the corner, a bed of straw nearby. There was evidence that someone had been cared for here, and recently, the bloodstained cloths on the floor having very little dust on them.
A plastic sample bag lay discarded beside an almost empty pot of water. Teal’c could only surmise that Colonel O’Neill had been the one cared for.
But there was no one here now.
He was turning to retrace his steps when a sound echoed through the passages, the cry of a tormented soul.
Teal’c took off running.
He had only gone a few yards when the screams began.
One false turn threw him off the trail, but the sounds pulled him forward. He raced around a corner, taking the scene in with a glance. Speeding forward, he backhanded the man in the black robes with all his strength, flinging him into the wall. The only other man took one look and fled, running back the way they had come.
Teal’c took no notice of them. O’Neill was on the ground, his clothes alight. His cries had stopped, but he appeared to be still aware, his eyes open and staring, one hand trying to beat out the fire licking at his face. Teal’c dropped his flashlight, and stripped off his vest and jacket, fingers fumbling to undo the fastenings. Finally he had the jacket in his hands, the few seconds it had taken seeming like hours, and wrapped it around the writhing figure, rolling him as he did so, depriving the flames of the oxygen they needed.
The fire was soon out, its hold having been tenuous at best. Teal’c reached for the discarded flashlight, and turned its light towards the Colonel.
O’Neill’s clothes were blackened, in some places burnt away, exposing bloody, dirt-coated bandages. Fresh blood began to well up in a long lines across his chest as Teal’c watched. He knelt beside his commander, seeing his eyes beginning to close.
The sound of cloth on stone made him turn, raising his light. The robed man had regained his feet, his face terrified.
As Teal’c made to stand, he gave an anguished cry of, “Demon!” and, his robes flapping as he ran, disappeared down the tunnel and into the blackness.
“T?’ The low voice halted Teal’c in his tracks. He knelt once more, taking the burnt hand held out to him carefully in a light grip.
“It is I, O’Neill. You are safe.”
He barely saw the nod, before the other man’s eyes closed once more. Teal’c bent and scooped him up, holding him as carefully as he could, cradled against his chest.
He retraced his steps, hurrying to take his friend back into the light.
Behind him, a small tongue of flame flashed its way across the floor.
**********
Daniel fought his way back, forcing his eyes to open. He couldn’t let himself sleep, there was something important he had to do. There were people all around him, some speaking urgently, others whispering – all sounded worried. Through it all one phrase stood out – ‘Colonel O’Neill’.
Jack!
He had lost Jack.
The closest voice to him was one he would recognise anywhere. Managing to pry his lids apart slightly, he spotted the familiar figure standing with her back to him, a few feet away, speaking to someone else.
“Sam?” His throat was dry, but he didn’t hold back, his voice loud enough to be heard over the confusion. Sam turned and came hurrying to his side.
“Daniel. Where’s the Colonel?”
“Jack. You have to find Jack.”
They both spoke at the same time, their words overlapping. Daniel saw the moment when Sam understood the implications of what he said; the flash of pain in her eyes and the slight slump in her shoulders.
“I lost him, Sam. In the tunnels.”
“Tunnels? What tunnels?”
Daniel pointed over in the direction of the hidden door. “There. We hid in them, but they are like a labyrinth. Jack’s still in there somewhere.”
She had already begun to head for the dark corner he had indicated, calling Ferretti’s name as she did so, when Daniel called out, stopping her.
“Jack’s badly hurt, Sam. They tortured him. Find him quickly.”
She nodded, as if what he said had been expected. “Don’t worry, Daniel, we will.”
He watched her gather in the others – Lou Ferretti and Gary Hartfell - saw the quick glances towards him, and then the rapid fire orders.
The last thing he saw before he shut his eyes was her back disappearing into the darkness, and he had the irrational, totally inappropriate thought.
“Go fetch.”
He was losing it.
Completely.
***********
Jack felt the bumps and turns. Felt the movement as if arcs of electricity were shooting through him. The numbness had definitely gone, leaving every nerve on fire.
Fire.
It danced before his eyes. Wavered and flickered in tune with the motion, as his memory held its form, remembered its touch.
Jack was held firmly, every part that was in contact with the man carrying him communicating his pain.
It was necessary. He knew that.
But it didn’t make it any easier.
He endured, because he had to.
At last the motion stopped, and he heard voices.
Then they were off again, the sudden jolt startling him back into awareness.
The warmth of skin was replaced with the warmth of soft padding and he let his eyes open.
“Colonel?” Carter looking down at him, her hair shining in the light as if a halo about her head.
Couldn’t be an angel. There was no angel for him.
Only damnation.
Damnation hurt as much as he had expected it should.
He opened his heart and let it in.
**********
Lou Ferretti had seen Teal’c coming towards them soon after they had entered through the opening. As soon as he had confirmed Teal’c had the Colonel they had turned back, not bothering to offer to help carry. He knew the offer would be refused.
Lou couldn’t help the gasp when they reached the light and saw Jack’s condition. He had been shoved aside as Sam and the medic with SG-10 had taken over, gesturing to Teal’c to lay his burden down on a clear part of the stone floor. The misshapen shoulder was the most obvious injury. The whole arm was swollen, cold and clammy to the touch, especially in comparison to the heat radiating from everywhere else. It was hard to tell how bad the other injuries were, covered as they were by dirt, blood, and soot.
There were burns there as well, but they seemed, from what Lou could see over the bent shoulders, to be superficial, the worst on the Colonel’s right hand.
“Sam? How is he?” Lou saw Daniel’s head lift, as the other member of SG-1 tried to see what was happening.
“I don’t know yet.” Sam’s voice was anxious and distracted. She pulled a thermometer strip from the first aid kit and took a quick reading, shaking her head at what she found. “His wounds are obviously infected.” She exchanged a glance with the medic, and nodded, before the medic pressed a needle into the Colonel’s right arm. “We’ve just given him a dose of morphine. That should keep him out until we reach the gate.”
“Why are you helping him?”
Ferretti spun around, startled by the sudden question. Teal’c stood as well, staying close to Jack’s side as if determined to protect him from further harm. Their prisoner was peering between the two airmen that had been set to guard him.
“He is a servant of the Devil, master of the demon. Why do you try to save his life?”
Ferretti saw red, his anger overtaking his common sense. He took several rapid steps towards the man, only stopping when he was less than a foot away from him.
“Because he is a good man, who doesn’t deserve to die at the hands of bastards like you. You have blindly followed without questioning, without understanding, and now my friend is paying the price. You and your priest…” He spat the word out as if it was sour in his mouth, “you’ve taken all the goodness out of your faith and replaced it with bitter fruit. You’ve perverted God’s teachings to feed your own hatred.”
The man quailed back in the face of Ferretti’s anger.
“I don’t understand.”
Lou rubbed a weary hand across his face, and took a breath, before continuing in a more controlled voice. “We are men just like you.” He gestured over to where Daniel lay, propped up on one elbow, his face pale. “He is a scholar, a teacher – not a servant of an evil man.” He pointed to Teal’c, to where the Jaffa stood, stiff and solid, standing over the man on the floor. “He is no more a demon than you or I. He is a good man. And she,” he gestured to Sam, “is a woman of learning, who uses her knowledge to fight evil, not obey it.”
Finally he looked at Jack, “He is their leader, you were right about that, but he is a great man, a good man. One that God would welcome with open arms. But that is my God – not the one that you have been taught to follow. My God is the God of love and forgiveness.” He took another deep breath, and stepped back, realising that the room had gone completely quiet. “And because of that, I will try to understand why you did this, and try to forgive.”
Lou felt something biting into the palm of his hand, and he looked down to see that he was holding his crucifix tightly. He tucked it back into his shirt, and turned away, a look of agreement echoing in the faces of those around him.
It was time to go home.
***********
Pater Yleek had escaped down the tunnel, away from the demon. He knew that he couldn’t go far without a torch, but he was also convinced that the Lord would save him.
He ran on, holding his hands stiff in front of him, warding off the rock walls, trying to move as swiftly as he could. The demon would be occupied with caring for his master for a time, but Yleek knew he would soon be pursued.
It was some minutes later that he noticed, with joy, that light had grown behind him, bathing the dark passage in an eerie glow. He felt a sense of elation, secure in the knowledge that he was in the hands of God.
His searching hands grazed the wall ahead of him, and he realised he had reached a dead end. His foot kicked against an object lying on the floor, and he bent, just able to make out the details in the soft light.
A mummified form, its papery, dry body dressed in a robe much like his own. Puzzled, he peered closer, the light reflecting off dust covered, dull metal.
A ring. A ring identical to the one he wore on his own hand. The mark of his office.
The dread grew in his heart as he began to doubt.
Turning, he started to walk back towards the light.
The rush of flame roared up the tunnel, feeding on the little oxygen as it went.
The Pater was dead before the flames reached him.
Daniel pulled himself up on to one elbow, ignoring the still vicious headache, and tried to see what was happening.
They had found Jack.
He was alive. At least he thought he was. Sam and Lieutenant Jarlic were kneeling next to him, the medical kit open.
He must be alive.
He heard Sam telling Lou Ferretti that Jack’s wounds were infected, that they were giving him morphine. The short argument between Lou & the local man barely registered with Daniel as his concern for his friend grew. Jack wasn’t moving.
“Sam?”
Sam didn’t turn, but Ferretti did, coming over to him.
“How are you feeling, Daniel?”
“I’m okay.” Daniel began to swing his legs off the table. “Just get me off here, will you? I want to see how Jack is.”
Daniel found himself being held by a restraining arm. “I don’t think you should do that. You look like you’ve had a pretty heavy blow to your head.”
“It’s okay, Lou. Really, I feel fine.”
It was obvious that Ferretti wasn’t believing a word of it. “Sure, Daniel, fine. You’re covered in bruises and you can barely keep your eyes open. Jack’s being looked after.” He glanced over at the supine figure. ‘You stay here while I go and find out how he is. Alright?”
Daniel could only nod. He kept his eyes on Ferretti as the other man started back to where Jack lay.
“Fire!” Daniel turned a startled gaze towards the cry. Thick, black smoke was billowing from the doorway to the tunnels, the speed with which it was filling the room taking everyone by surprise. It rolled across the dungeon, making Daniel’s eyes water, and causing him to start coughing immediately. It bore straight into his head, grabbing his brain and spinning it around and about. He felt himself begin to fall back to the surface of the table, even as he tried to urge his body to get up and escape and the world began to drift away.
Abruptly he felt himself lifted up, before being bodily dragged across the floor and up the steep stairs. It had all happened so suddenly that the feeling of a breeze on his face was the first inkling he had that he was outside.
Daniel blinked in the sunshine, the bright light and smoke combining to make his eyes stream after so long in the dark. He was lowered, his back against a wall, and he took his glasses off before rubbing his eyes, trying to clear them. Soon he could make out what was going on around him.
Flames were leaping from the roof of the building they had just left, as figures poured from the doorway, hurrying away from the heat. He recognised Sam, hunched over and coughing, her hand to her mouth. She had the other hand firmly on the figure being carried towards him.
Jack.
They laid him down beside Daniel, and finally he was able to see his friend in the cold light of day.
It was odd, but somehow the blood, the cuts, the dirt encrusted bandages, didn’t seem as bad as he had imagined. It was the deadly pallor that shocked him, the almost translucent quality of Jack’s skin contrasting so vividly with the flushed cheeks.
“Damn it!” Sam’s exclamation made Daniel start. She had been wiping away some of the grime, cleaning and bandaging as she did so.
“What is it, Sam?” Daniel scooted over a little and was rewarded by a slightly irritated look from Jarlic, who was concentrating on the injuries to Jack’s legs. One of them was obviously broken; something Daniel knew had to have happened in the last few hours.
“The Colonel’s got a head injury. I shouldn’t have given him morphine.” She frowned and looked up at Daniel. “Was he showing any signs of concussion?”
Daniel thought back to when Jack had first woken in the dungeon. He had definitely been disorientated, but that was only to be expected given the circumstances. Later it had been hard to tell, the darkness and his injuries could have easily hidden the signs.
“I’m not sure. He was hit fairly hard and was out for several hours.” Daniel saw the worry grow on both Jarlic and Sam’s faces, and hurried on with his explanation. “I don’t think you should worry about giving him the morphine, Sam. I think you’ll find that you made the right decision given his other injuries.”
“Sam?” Lou Ferretti appeared beside them, his uniform covered in soot. He crouched down as he spoke. “How is he?”
“Not good, Lou. We’ve done everything we can here, we need to get him home.”
Ferretti nodded in reply. “We’re not staying any longer than we have to. I want you and Jarlic to head for the gate with the Colonel and Daniel.” He paused as Teal’c joined them. “Teal’c and the rest of SG-10 will go with you, but I don’t think there will be any problems.”
Daniel watched Ferretti stand and look around. Some of the townspeople were watching from across the square, seemingly bewildered by what had happened. He could see them talking, pointing at the blazing building, but none were coming any closer, not even to see if any of their own people were injured.
Ferretti turned back and gave a grim smile. “SG-2 will stay here and mop up. I’m planning to have a quiet word with whoever passes for a leader around here. From what Teal’c tells me, we won’t have to worry about Pater Yleek anymore, but I want to be sure.” He looked down at Jack before continuing. “I’m going to tell them a few home truths and I’m sure as hell not worrying about any Prime Directive.”
Daniel gave a snort of amusement before abruptly sobering. Worry and exhaustion weighed him down; all he wanted to do now was go home. Jack was being lifted on to a stretcher, looking even worse than he had a few minutes ago, if that were possible. Daniel shook his head a little, trying to clear it. For a second there, it had been as if Jack had faded into the grey of the blankets covering him, as if he hadn’t been there at all.
As if he had disappeared.
***********
Jack knew that the fire was taking its time devouring him. He didn’t expect it to be painless, or quick. Hell shouldn’t be kind.
The words reverberated in his mind. His soul was stained. He was being punished.
He existed in that limbo between living and dying, digging his heels in and fighting death every step of the way.
***********
This time Janet Fraiser really felt like crying. This time she had almost lost it when they had seen what had been done to Colonel O’Neill, especially when she had been told how it had happened.
Her faith in the basic goodness of Man had been severely tested.
The circulation had been compromised in the Colonel’s left arm, the damage from the dislocations left untended for so long, at first almost causing her to despair.
The deep penetrating wounds covering the back of his legs had been caused by an instrument designed to cause the maximum pain without death – except from infection. It had been infection that had almost killed him. The cross-shaped brands, the puncture wounds, the burns, and the slashes on his chest had been a deadly mixture.
She still had to swallow down bile whenever she thought of the sight of the three long gashes across his chest, deep and oozing. When Daniel had told her what had caused them, she had shut her eyes and then sent an orderly off to do a search of the Internet. He had brought back a picture of something that had actually been worse than she had imagined. A claw, made to rip and tear. The Colonel would bear the scars of this mission for a very long time.
Janet put her elbows on her desk and buried her head in her hands. She had been reviewing the Colonel’s chart. He was still critical, the infection still raging.
The Inquisitor might win yet.
***********
Doctor Fraiser hadn’t been the only one to research the torture methods of the Inquisition. Teal’c had listened carefully to Daniel Jackson’s description of what they had done to O’Neill and had then headed straight for the nearest computer.
Nothing he found shocked him, he had seen much worse in his long years as First Prime. What had troubled him had been the reasoning behind the horror, the slow lingering death granted as a favour, supposedly giving the victim more time to repent. Slow torture, unless used to extract information was, he knew, merely to give pleasure to the torturer. To pretend otherwise was obscene.
Once again he wondered at the capacity that the Tau’ri had to cause pain. Some of them could give lessons to the Goa’uld.
He had closed off the computer. and returned to the infirmary, sitting with Daniel Jackson in the main ward, his thoughts turned to the small private room into which he was not allowed.
He and Daniel Jackson had pieced together most of what had happened in the dungeon and the tunnels, with only a few gaps missing in their knowledge of events, whilst Major Carter had been ordered to rest in her quarters. She had remained asleep for almost a full day, before joining them.
The tone of their discussion had ranged from anger, to guilt, to acceptance, and back once more to anger. It was only when Major Ferretti had returned with the news that the remains of the Pater had been found in the rubble, that he had felt some closure.
Justice had been served, and in a suitably fitting way.
Now they could only wait.
**********
The first positive sign came almost four days after their return, Jack’s temperature dropping gradually as his body finally fought off the infection. His team was allowed a brief visit, before being ushered out once more, the equipment leaving space in the small room for only the constant nurse watching over him. He was covered in plaster and bandages, making his whole body a white as his face. What little they could see of him was pale and drawn, and they left feeling uneasy, the reassurance they had been seeking nowhere to be found in the still form of their CO.
Daniel had been released from the infirmary the day before, and although stiff and sore, was recovering well.
At least physically.
He had admitted to being woken by nightmares several times. He hadn’t gone into details, and everyone had assumed they had been of the torture.
They hadn’t been.
He had found himself reliving that moment when he realised he had left Jack lost in the tunnels, over and over again. Each nightmare ended differently; with Jack’s body being found in the remains of the burnt out building, with him being dragged into the dungeon to be put back on the rack once more, with him crawling through the winding passages until he died alone in the dark; Each time Jack had called Daniel’s name, and each time he hadn’t answered.
He had woken suddenly, sitting up in bed, his heart thumping. Only Janet’s orders had prevented him from running to Jack’s room, just to reassure himself that his friend was alive.
Then Janet had let them see him.
It hadn’t helped. Daniel could catalogue every tiny cut, every livid tear; he could almost feel the pain in every joint.
If this was Jack improving, then he was glad that Janet hadn’t let him visit earlier.
***********
Jack was glad that he had finished burning. Now the numbness was back, like an old familiar friend who had come to stay and been welcomed. He relished the lack of sensation.
It didn’t take long to work out where he was. He was home. He had won the battle again. He had time to remember exactly what had happened. There were large gaps, but he could fill much of the missing time with logical deductions. He knew he had been badly injured; he had felt the first signs of fever and delirium while lying next to the fire in the tunnel. He even remembered waking and finding Daniel gone. The next really vivid moment had been finding that crazy bastard bending over him and breaking his leg, then a flash as a torch descended.
All of which left him with several questions, the most important of which was, where was Daniel?
Gradually he became aware of sounds, sounds he recognised. The quiet whispers and touches as he was cared for, all dignity stripped away by necessity. The numbness had become familiar as well – the drugged state he associated with serious injury. Memories of burning flared once more, and just for a second, the fleeting thought that it may be better if he didn’t wake up wandered through his mind, only to be dismissed as quickly as it had appeared.
He could face reality. He had survived torture yet again, and he was stronger than he had been the first time. He hadn’t given in then and he sure as hell wouldn’t now.
“Colonel?” A voice he didn’t recognise. A nurse? He managed to open his eyes a crack, causing the voice to give a startled yelp. Within minutes a more familiar voice was speaking softly into his ear.
“Colonel O’Neill?” He could make out the Doc’s face in the dim light and gave an answering smile, before trying to search the rest of the room. His vision seemed to extend to just a few feet, just enough to see that the only other occupant of the room was the young nurse he presumed had responded when he woke. No Daniel.
He remembered being carried out of the tunnels. He only knew one person that could have carried him like that – Teal’c. Teal’c must be all right. He even had a fleeting memory of Carter looking down at him.
But no Daniel.
“Sir!” Fraiser’s voice commanded his attention. He brought his gaze back to her. “They’re all okay. Daniel, Sam, Teal’c – they are fine.” She was smiling and he knew she was telling the truth, not just saying something she thought he wanted to hear. “Daniel is fine. His injuries weren’t serious.” She raised her voice a little and, with a shock, Jack realised that his eyes had started to close. “Did you hear me, Colonel?”
He was able to give a small nod, before falling asleep once more.
***********
“He woke up.” Janet had given him the news as soon as he entered the infirmary. A small part of the almost overwhelming weight he had felt for the last several days had lifted at her words.
He had awoken. Jack had been awake.
“Can I sit with him?” He could hardly wait for her permission, his feet already moving towards the room.
“Yes, but only for a short time, and remember, if he wakes again, he’s still sedated, so he may not be very coherent.” The words were spoken to Daniel’s retreating back.
Daniel slowed down when he reached the half closed door to Jack’s room. What was he going to say to his friend? Hi Jack, sorry I lost you? Sorry I let them find you again? Sorry I wasn’t there?
He took a deep breath, and gently pushed the door open enough to enter. He didn’t know what he was going to say when Jack woke up, but he was very grateful that Jack was alive to hear it.
The nurse looked up as he walked towards the bed, and smiled. “He’s asleep again. He was awake a few minutes ago.” She kept her voice low, and Daniel followed suit, thanking her in a whisper as he pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. He had to admit that Jack looked better, there was more colour in what little Daniel could see of his skin – natural colour – not the flush of fever and the infection that Daniel had seen in the brief glimpse he had had of his friend back on that planet. Jack’s grey hair was ruffled from lying down so long, and Daniel was pleased to see that he looked surprisingly relaxed.
He watched Jack sleeping, not willing to leave him alone once more.
He sat there quietly, the time passing unnoticed.
“Doctor Jackson.” The nurse’s soft voice woke him from a light doze. As he blinked himself awake, he followed her gaze to see Jack’s eyes open and fixed on his.
“Jack.” Daniel scooted closer to the bed, dragging his chair up level with the other man’s head. “Hey.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, all her knew was that he was grinning fit to burst.
“Hi.” The answer was barely audible, but the smile was there.
Daniel reached over and lightly rested his fingers on Jack’s right arm, the only part of him visible with no injury. There would be a time for them to talk. For now he was just happy to have Jack back.
“Daniel?” Sam’s voice made him start; he hadn’t even noticed his two teammates enter the room.
Jack’s eyes had closed again, and he was sleeping peacefully once more. Daniel turned to Sam and Teal’c. “He was awake. He spoke.”
Sam moved to stand behind him, her hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. Teal’c stood on his other side, his arm touching Daniel’s in the confined space. Daniel kept his fingers on Jack, feeling the comforting warmth with a sense of wonder.
They stayed like that, just watching, connected to each other.
Part 8
This time Jack O’Neill couldn’t say he was bored. He hadn’t had any time to be bored. The physiotherapy necessary to bring his damaged left arm back to normal strength left him tired and he found he was barely able to crawl back into bed before falling asleep. Janet had reassured him that his fatigue was normal, given the extent of his injuries.
The wounds on his legs had healed well, but Janet was refusing to let him put any undue stress on his abused and strained knees. At least he had the cast off his broken leg and was able to get around using a wheelchair. Even that had been a victory, his burnt right hand stopping him from gripping anything for quite a while.
And hadn’t that just been peachy! Look Ma, no hands. Talk about embarrassing. He was only thankful that he had been in a drugged haze for most of the time.
“Ready, Jack?”
He sat up as Daniel walked into the room, pushing the wheelchair ahead of him.
“As ever.” He winced as the burns on his side pulled when he twisted. Ironically, they had been the most insidious injury, refusing to heal and causing him pain every time he moved. The four crosses were still livid against his too pale skin, a vivid reminder of his ordeal in the dungeon.
“Okay?” Daniel steadied him, helping him into the chair. After he was settled, Jack felt the weight of Daniel’s hand on his shoulder and a tight squeeze before he let go.
Jack had noticed Daniel’s tendency to touch him, something that the younger man had never done before except when necessary. Finally Jack had broached the subject, careful to make it clear that he didn’t mind.
That was when he found out about the nightmares.
It had taken some work to get the truth out of his friend, and when he did it hadn’t been surprising. He was more surprised that he had not experienced any nightmares himself, but he hadn’t, his sleep at first drug assisted, and now deep with the bone tired weariness that his recovery was bringing.
Daniel’s apology for leaving him in the cave had come as an even greater shock. There was nothing to apologise for.
“You’re sorry?” He knew that he was still experiencing the occasional moment of confusion, especially just after taking the medication the Doc was insisting he continue until the burns and his chest wounds were completely healed, but he really had trouble following Daniel’s convoluted reasoning.
“I almost got you killed, Jack. I left you there and wandered off. I should have stayed with you until rescue came.”
“There could have been an exit just a short way up the tunnel. You had to go look.”
“But there wasn’t.”
“You didn’t know that, and if you had decided to stay until rescue came, we’d probably still be waiting. You’re the only one that could have found that door, Daniel. You are the only one to even know such a door was a possibility. Hell – the damned Inquisitor didn’t even know it was there until you left it open.”
He could have bitten off his tongue when he saw Daniel’s reaction to his words. The younger man had visibly flinched as if hit.
Jack had kept his voice firm and no nonsense. “You had a head injury, Daniel. You weren’t thinking straight. And even if you had been, you did the right thing looking for an escape route. If you hadn’t found the tunnels in the first place we would both be dead now, and the only thing Ferretti and the others would have rescued would have been two bodies. Sure, you left the door open, but what would have happened if you hadn’t? Would you have managed to tell the others where it was? I doubt I could have held out much longer, in fact I think I had pretty well given up by the time Yleek showed up. You don’t have a thing to apologise for. I should be thanking you, because without you, I’d be dead.”
“I should have been able to explain things to them. I should have made them listen.” Daniel’s voice had been miserable. “It’s my job, and I couldn’t even manage that.”
“Oh for crying out loud, Daniel!” Jack’s outraged tone finally brought Daniel’s head up from its slumped position. “No one could have talked their way out of there, not even you. Those people were fanatics. You couldn’t expect to just waltz in, tell them their beliefs were wrong, and have them accept it. They were prepared to die for their beliefs, you can’t expect rational argument to win against that.” He had reached out then and shaken Daniel’s arm gently. “You don’t need to apologise. You kept us alive.”
“I almost didn’t, Jack. I keep remembering how I felt when I got back and found you gone. I lost you.”
“What am I, some sort of puppy or something?” Daniel had smiled slightly at that. “You didn’t lose me. I lost myself. If I had been thinking straight I wouldn’t have wandered off, but I wasn’t and I did, and it all worked out in the end. We’re back, we’re home, and we’ll recover and go back out and do it all over again if we have to, and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather do that with than you, Carter and Teal’c.”
Jack had been shocked by Daniel’s response to his words. He hadn't said anything, just turned away slightly for a brief moment. He had been smiling when he turned back.
Things had gone back to normal after that talk. His team had kept Jack company whenever possible. Now he was a little more mobile, he had taken to meeting them for lunch whenever he could. His lack of appetite hadn’t been helped by the infirmary food, so the Doc had given grudging permission for him to make the trip to the Mess Hall, as long as he was helped. She had made it clear that she didn’t want any more damage done to his healing hand, and that he had to be pushed. Jack had reluctantly agreed, hating the thought of being wheeled through the SGC halls, but acknowledging the necessity.
There were more people than usual in the Mess Hall when they finally got there, meaning that several diners had to move their seats to make room for the wheelchair to get through the small gap between the tables. By the time he arrived at the table where Teal’c and Carter were sitting, Jack had worked himself into a foul mood.
He didn’t give them time to speak before snapping at them. “Why couldn’t you have picked a table closer to the door?” He busied himself manoeuvring the chair into position, keeping his head down.
“This is our usual table, O’Neill. There were fewer people here when we arrived and we did not anticipate there would be a problem.”
Jack acknowledged Teal’c’s words with a grunt.
“Can I get you a coffee, sir?”
“Yes please, Carter. Unless of course you would all rather watch me trying to balance one on the arm of my chair while moving.”
Jack regretted his words the moment he said them. There was no reason to be snapping at his team like this. He couldn’t even blame his enforced stay in the infirmary, for once he wasn’t bored.
He sat, hemmed in by the uncomfortable silence, as his team busied themselves trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t result in getting their heads bitten off.
He didn’t seem to be able to keep a hold on his temper, keep it reined in, and even he acknowledged that an angry Jack O’Neill was a dangerous Jack O’Neill.
Jack fiddled with the edge of his shirt as he forced himself to say the words. “Sorry, kids. I guess I’m not feeling very social today.” He looked up in time to catch the concerned glances being exchanged by his companions.
“I’ll get that coffee, sir.” He acknowledged Carter’s words with a nod and watched as she moved towards the serving counter, smiling greetings at several people as she did so. She collected the coffee and began to return, but was, to Jack’s irritation, stopped by some of the members of SG-10. She rested his coffee on the table at which they were sitting, chatting to Lieutenant Jarlic as she did so. Jack felt a surge of anger at her actions. By the time Carter got back, his drink would be barely warm. He hated cold coffee, she knew that.
Teal’c and Daniel seemed oblivious to the whole thing. They had begun a desultory conversation between themselves, totally ignoring Carter.
Jack clenched his fist under the cover of the table top, feeling the pain as his left arm tensed in sympathy. He felt his pulse begin to race, and tried to take steady calming breaths.
Shit! He was losing it here.
With an abrupt motion he pushed himself away from the table and began turning the wheelchair. He had to get out, before he did something he would regret.
“Jack? What’s wrong?”
He spat out the answer. “Nothing, Daniel. I’m just tired of waiting for my coffee. I’ll see you later.” He started across the room, finding it almost impossible to manoeuvre the chair with one hand.
“Allow me to help, O’Neill.” Two large hands gripped the handles and began pushing, giving him no chance to argue.
Jack saw Carter’s startled stare as they left the room, and felt the anger leave him as quickly as it had appeared.
“Take me to my quarters, please Teal’c.”
There was a pause before the reply came. “Should you not return to the infirmary?”
“I want a bit of privacy for a while, without people disturbing me all the time. I’d like you to take me to my quarters.” Jack could feel the anger rising again, but he pushed it ruthlessly down, keeping his voice as calm as possible.
“Very well, O’Neill.”
It didn’t take long to reach his quarters, but it seemed interminable to Jack. He managed to return the greetings of the personnel they passed in the corridors, keeping up a semblance of good humour, but by the time Teal’c was opening the door, he was almost shaking with tension.
He knew that his dismissal of Teal’c with an order to come and get him in an hour was rude and abrupt, but he didn’t care. As he shut the door, he saw the small signs of hurt that he would have been one of the few to recognise in the Jaffa, and for a moment he hesitated, almost reopening the door. Instead he turned away.
By the time Jack was lying on the bed, he was trembling, not all of it a reaction to the effort and pain it took him to walk a few steps. He shut his eyes, relishing the solitude, even if he knew it could not last.
He had no idea why he was so angry. It was as if there was a huge pool of despair inside him, too deep to be explored. The anger was irrational, but it was there none the less. He had already done the obligatory sessions with McKenzie, sessions that resulted in a mutual agreement that Jack did not need to see the psychiatrist again. Both men had parted breathing heartfelt thanks.
Jack hadn’t been conscious for most of the torture – hell, he hadn’t even known everything that had been done to him until he woke up in the SGC. It seemed almost unreal now, like someone else’s dream. He had no issues with what had happened. He accepted it, and moved on.
He stretched down and carefully rubbed the healing brands. They itched constantly, sending little messages of pain through his nerves at the most inconvenient times. He tugged at his shirt, fumbling to pull it from his waistband, then sat up a little and peered at the scars, twisting his torso around. Four crosses. The word ironic kept coming to mind whenever he thought of them. The symbol of redemption burnt into his flesh by a fanatic.
Jack pulled the drawer of his bedside table open, groping around the interior without looking. Finally his hand found the small box stuck up into the back corner and pulled it out. The faded black velvet had a sheen of dust upon it, and he rubbed it on the sheet before resting it on his chest and opening the lid. Nestled in white satin was a gold cross, delicate cross-hatched etching marking each arm. He pulled it out, and held it up, letting the thin chain dangle through his fingers.
His father had worn this until the day he had been taken to hospital, the nurses handing it to Jack with an explanation that no jewellery was permitted. He had stuffed it in his pocket, wanting to argue, but for once knowing that it wasn’t the time. He remembered the thin brittle fingers clutching his, hearing the high, strained voice telling him to wear it when he was gone.
That it would protect him and keep him safe.
That he should give it to his own son.
He had kept it safe, not able to wear it on missions in the Middle East, but feeling closer to the memory of his father just knowing that it was there.
A single shot on a bright, blue summer day had shattered his belief in its protection.
Jack clenched his hand, his eyes shut tightly against the memory.
He hadn’t thrown the cross away. It had been intertwined so completely with his father’s life that to throw it away was inconceivable. Instead, Jack had shut it away, almost as if in punishment. He had occasionally taken it out, never opening the box again, just as a reminder of the fickleness of life, fate, whatever you wanted to call it. He had found it forgotten in his jacket pocket when he changed back into his uniform after he had been recalled to duty. The drawer in his newly assigned quarters had been as convenient a place to keep it as any. There it had stayed locked in the dark.
Now he was the one being punished. He would bear these crosses for life, and there was no way that he could hide them away. They would be there whenever he looked, as much a part of him as this gold cross had been a part of his father.
Choice had been taken from him, punished for his act of rebellion against his father’s religion. He returned the cross to its container.
The soft knock at his door made him jerk in surprise, knocking the velvet box off his chest and onto the bed.
“Jack? You in there?” Jack recognised the voice as Lou Ferretti’s. Lou had visited him in the infirmary when he and his team had returned from the planet, but Jack could only remember the hushed tones, none of what was said. He didn’t think he had been capable of saying anything. Later he found out that SG-2 were on an extended off world mission and weren’t expected back for some time.
They were obviously back now.
“Yeah. Come in.” Jack struggled to pull himself upright on the bed, as the door was pushed open and the short, sandy haired man entered the room. He groped for the box as he did so, unable to find it in the tangle of sheets and blankets.
“Teal’c told me you were here, hiding out. Did I wake you?”
“No.” Jack gestured to the chair. “Sit down.” He rested his back against the wall. “How was the mission?”
Lou leaned forward, his gaze appraising. “Fine. In fact, boring. You know how it is. Tests, walking, tents, more tests. What about you?”
Jack noticed where he was looking and tugged his shirt down, hiding the brands. The position he was in was putting too much strain on his left shoulder and he grimaced, unable to hide his discomfort.
“You okay?” Lou had obviously noticed.
For a second Jack thought of lying, and then he thought better of it. There was no point trying to hide anything from Ferretti. Lou had been there. He had seen what Yleek had done to him. Hell – he probably knew the details better than Jack did himself; he had seen Jack’s injuries in glorious technicolour.
“No. Give me a hand to lie down.” Jack took the offered arm, letting Lou steady him as he moved back down to lie full length on the bed again. He gave a grunt as he relaxed into the mattress. “That’s better.”
“So, Jack, how are you?” Lou returned to his original question.
“Sore, but I’m okay.”
“Really? That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He stared straight into Ferretti’s eyes, willing him to get up and go. He just managed to grate out a question. “Who’ve you been talking to? Daniel? Carter?” He began to swing his legs off the bed, ready to leave. There was a soft thump as the small black box fell to the floor, its lid coming open as it did so.
Lou bent to pick it up, the cross falling out. He straightened, holding the necklace gently in his hand, waited for a moment, and then spoke.
“Jack, can I ask you a question?”
Jack answered with a nod.
“Jack, I know you're angry, but...." He kept his eyes down, staring at the cross.
Jack cut Ferretti’s words short. “Damn right I am.” To his surprise, Jack found himself giving an honest answer again, his voice raised almost to a shout. “I’m furious.”
“Why?”
It was a simple question, but he didn’t have an answer for Lou, any more than he had for himself. “That’s just it. I don’t know.”
Lou looked up, his usually smiling face utterly serious. “I think I do. For the same reason that I was.”
“Sorry, Lou. You’ve lost me.” Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache was forming and he could tell it would be a brutal one. He wasn’t in the mood for riddles.
“You’re angry that what was done to you was done in the name of God.”
Jack lowered his hand and glared at the other man. “Why the hell should I be angry about that? I don’t care whose name it was done in.”
“Don’t you?” Ferretti held the cross out, dangling from its chain. “Maybe you should put this away again then.”
Jack took the necklace and clenched his fist around it, holding it tightly.
Was it as simple as that?
“Jack.” Lou interrupted his thoughts and he dragged his gaze away from his hand to meet the eyes of the other man. “They say God works in mysterious ways. These ways weren’t mysterious, they were pure evil. There was nothing of God in what Yleek did. But I do believe that it was God that sent us there, to end the evil done in His name. Who knows how many people we saved from being tortured in the future. You have every right to be angry. But don’t blame God. Blame the man that used his name.” He pointed to the brands still visible through the slightly open shirt. “Don’t see them as a mark of evil, see them as a reminder of what you did, of the freedom your ordeal brought to so many people, perhaps in time, to the whole planet.”
“That’s easy for you to say…”
Lou interrupted Jack’s angry retort. “No it isn’t. It isn’t easy at all. I saw what they did to you. Do you think it was easy to stay there and help them? But I did, because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t easy, but it was right.”
Jack shut his eyes, keeping the memories of Yleek’s words in tight. “He said I was damned. That my soul was stained. Perhaps he was right.”
He had done so many things that he was ashamed of over the years, caused so much pain to so many people. He opened his hand. The cross shone in the light.
“You know he wasn’t. In your heart you know that. That’s why you were angry. You took his lies into your heart, knowing them to be false.”
Jack looked up in surprise. “Getting poetic in your old age, Ferretti?”
Lou smiled back “I’ve had a lot more time to think about this than you have.” He stood up. “Speaking of which, I think it’s about time I got you back to the infirmary, before the Doc comes baying for blood.” At Jack’s nod he leaned forward, taking the weight of the taller man as he pulled him upright. “Come on, Colonel Sir, your carriage awaits.”
Jack smiled the first genuine smile since they had set foot on that planet. “I’ll just be a minute, there’s something I need to do.” He opened the clasp of the chain and placed it around his neck, closing it and tucking the cross into the front of his shirt.
He smiled. Pater Yleek had been right after all.
His soul had been redeemed.