Title: Leavenworth Author: Kazza Email: kazzak999@hotmail.com Story Status: Complete Sequel/Series Info: None Season: Season 6 Spoilers: None Categories: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pairing: None Rating: PG-13 Content Warning: Mention of suicide, swearing, Jack whumping Summary: Jack is caught in an elaborate set-up where his life is in danger. Archive Permissions: Jackfic, Incoming Wormhole Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only File Size: 229KB Authors Notes: Karen (Kent) wanted a Jack behind bars fic and as I owed her for her excellent beta-ing skills, I wrote one. What I didn’t anticipate was how long this story would end up being, and I bet Karen didn’t realise how much I would come to rely on her input. Karen….thank you for all your help with this fic. You write Jack angst so well.
Leavenworth by Kazza
What had started as a nagging headache had evolved into a full blown migraine, causing him to retreat to his office where he could deal with it alone. Leaving the lights off, he lay down on the small cot tucked away in the corner, and closed his eyes in an attempt to ease the pain and nausea. * Jonas Quinn strolled along the corridor feeling rather pleased with himself. The majority of his day had been spent closeted in Major Carter’s lab running tests on Naquadriah samples, from which they had received some favourable results. Sam was now discussing the experiments with her colleagues at Area 51 and he was on his way to catch up with Colonel O’Neill, who was scheduled to give him small arms weapons training. Reaching the Colonel’s office, he knocked smartly on the door. The sound reverberated through Jack’s skull, bringing him back to consciousness. Sitting up too quickly, he felt the bile bite at the back of his throat, and he scrambled from the bed - grabbing the waste bin in a desperate attempt not to throw up on the floor. Assuming that the Colonel wasn’t there when he didn’t get an answer, Jonas was turning away from the door when he heard the unmistakable sounds of retching. Knowing O’Neill wouldn’t want anyone to know he was being sick he decided to wait until things had calmed down a bit. But after five minutes, when it didn’t appear as if they were going to, Jonas took a deep breath and entered the office. Jack was slumped on the floor, his body shaking as the heaves racked through him. Jonas, whose only source of light came from the corridor behind him, struggled to see what was going on before he closed the door, conscious of the Colonel’s privacy. Reaching for the desk in the darkness, he switched the small lamp on and didn’t miss the shudder of pain from the man curled up on the floor. “Colonel?” Despite the heaves beginning to subside, Jack didn’t respond as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. Jonas crouched down next to him. “Sir, I’m going to call the infirmary.” “No!” Jack shook his head vehemently, and the action set the retching off again. Jonas straightened decisively, moved to the desk, and picked up the telephone.
* When Dr Warner emerged from Colonel O’Neill’s office he was surprised to find the other members of SG1 loitering in the corridor. As he quietly closed the door, he held his hand up to stop the barrage of questions that he knew they were about to throw at him. “The Colonel has a severe migraine. I’ve given him something to ease the symptoms, and he’s under strict orders to rest.” “This is the second migraine in a month.” Sam looked at the doctor in concern. “I know he gets headaches, but they’ve never been as bad as this before.” Warner shrugged. “I’m sorry, Major, but I am not at liberty to discuss Colonel O’Neill’s medical history with you.” He looked at his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to. I will ensure that a medic checks on the Colonel throughout the rest of the day and tonight.” Sam watched as the doctor walked away, and then turned to Teal’c. “Teal’c….” “Do not worry, MajorCarter, I shall remain here outside O’Neill’s quarters.” The Jaffa moved into position, effectively blocking the doorway.
* The Colonel didn’t emerge from his office until 5am the following morning and, ignoring Teal’c, headed straight for the locker room where he stood under the shower for ten minutes before changing into a fresh set of BDUs. Teal’c followed him, and stood impassively outside until he had finished and stepped back out into the corridor. “When did I get a personal bodyguard?” He walked past Teal’c. “I am merely concerned for your well being, O’Neill.” The Jaffa followed Jack as he took the stairs down to the commissary. “Well you can relax, Teal’c. Dr Warner gave me something, and it worked. Now I’m going to get some juice and pancakes, and then I’m going up to the surface to get some air.” Jack finally stopped to look at Teal’c. “So you can stop following me around.”
* Kicking the front door shut Jack winced as the noise pounded in his head, before he went through to the kitchen and dumped a stack of files on the table. Recognising the warning signs of yet another migraine, he dug into his pocket for the bottle of pills that he had come to rely on in the last three weeks, and dry swallowed two of the small white capsules. Knowing that they would take a while to kick in, he went through to the lounge, pulled the drapes closed, and lay down on the couch.
* With a weary sigh, General Hammond put the telephone down and leaned back in his chair. He had just spent almost forty minutes on the phone with General Kerrigan at the Academy, who had been very vocal about Colonel O’Neill’s training methods with his cadets. Now Hammond wanted to hear Jack’s version of what had happened. A quick call to the security desk confirmed that the Colonel had left for the evening, so Hammond decided that he would need to pay him a visit.
* A couple of hours sleep had allowed the pills to work their magic and, after a quick sandwich, Jack began to work on the files at the kitchen table. With Carter and Jonas involved in the development of yet another hybrid plane, and Teal’c assisting at the Alpha site, he had been stuck with yet more SGC induction training. The seven latest cadets had been with him for a week and, as far as he was concerned, they had turned out to be the most useless bunch of an increasingly poor selection. Relieved that they had rotated back to the Academy, all he had to do was fill out their evaluation forms and that would be the last time he would have to think about them. He had almost finished when there was a knock at his front door. Opening it he was surprised to find Hammond standing in the porch. “General?” Hammond eyed Jack carefully, noting the tired lines and the shadows around his eyes. “Jack, I was wondering if we could talk?” Jack shrugged and stepped aside, granting Hammond entry. “Sure. Come through to the kitchen.” As Hammond walked past him, Jack closed the front door and followed him through to the kitchen. “Have a seat, sir. Can I get you a coffee or something?” Hammond shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He sat down at the table, and looked at the files that covered the surface. “Catching up with your paperwork?” Jack retrieved a fresh mug of coffee, and returned to his seat at the table. “Cadet evaluations. Best to do them while it’s still all fresh in the mind.” He sipped the coffee, and then put the mug down. “So, what was so important that you needed to talk to me this evening, sir?” Hammond rested his hands on the table. “I had a conversation with General Kerrigan. He felt he had to voice some concerns he has with your training regime.” He didn’t miss the stiffening of Jack’s shoulders as he continued, “Amongst other things, he mentioned an unnecessary harshness, ignoring reasonable questions, a patronising manner…..do you want me to continue?” “Well, if General Kerrigan saw fit to send cadets with at least an iota of intelligence I’m sure I wouldn’t have to be like that.” Jack’s face was set in stone. Hammond struggled to hide his shock at the lack of denial concerning Kerrigan’s complaints. “Colonel, one of the cadets reported that you almost struck him. Is that true?” Jack took another sip of coffee. “And if I said it was?” Hammond’s eyes narrowed. “Then you only just avoided a court martial. Striking another member of the United States Air Force is a disciplinary offence.” “Then it’s just as well I didn’t hit him isn’t it, sir?” Hammond shook his head in disbelief. “Colonel, I know you aren’t happy being stuck with the induction training, but taking it out on the cadets is not the behaviour I would expect from the SGC’s second in command.” He got to his feet. “I thought the General was exaggerating when he called me but, from your belligerent mood, I can honestly say I’m beginning to rethink that assumption.” Jack rose from his chair. “That’s your prerogative, sir.” “Colonel,” Hammond stated sternly, “I would like you to take this weekend to reassess your current attitude towards cadet training, before the next group arrives on Monday. Do I make myself clear?” Jack looked straight at him. “Crystal………sir.” He closed the door after Hammond, and then pressed the palms of his hands to his head in an attempt to block out the pain exploding through his skull. The confrontation had brought it back with vengeance. Stumbling back into the kitchen, he took another couple of pills and went to lie down.
* Five days later
No matter how exciting it was to be working on new technology, Sam always enjoyed returning to the SGC. After signing in at the security desk, she made her way down to her lab, where she spent an hour catching up with her emails, before going to the commissary in search of coffee and a muffin. She noted the louder than usual chatter, and couldn’t miss the looks being thrown in her direction, as she snagged a chocolate muffin and a mug of coffee. Turning to leave, she came face to face with Major Ferretti. “Hey, Lou.” Ferretti looked uncomfortable. “Sam, can we talk?” “Sure.” She pointed to an empty table. “There?” He shook his head. “No, I think we should go somewhere more private.” “So, what’s with the secrecy?” She sat down at her lab bench and looked at Ferretti as he closed the door behind him. “It’s Colonel O’Neill.” He leaned against the wall. “Yesterday evening he was arrested by MPs.” “Arrested?” Sam stared at him in disbelief. “On what charge? What’s he supposed to have done?” Ferretti scrubbed his hand through his hair. “He beat on a cadet.” He looked miserable. “But … it has to be a mistake.” Sam looked confused. “The Colonel would never do anything like that.” Ferretti’s shoulders slumped. “There were witnesses. It happened here – topside. The cadet has been hospitalised in the infirmary with serious injuries.” Sam was stunned. “I don’t believe it.” She shook her head again. “There must be some explanation . . . something?” “Believe me, Sam, I have been wondering about it as well. But,” he looked at her, reluctant to add his last piece of bad news, “I saw the attack. It was completely unprovoked.”
* After his arrest, he had been transferred to the MP section at Peterson Air Force Base and, due to the lateness of the day, was quickly processed and locked up for the night. It wasn’t until later that the MPs commented on the fact that, throughout the whole procedure, the Colonel hadn’t spoken once. He hadn’t even confirmed his name and rank, or answered the serious charges as they were read to him. He had seemed almost completely unaware of what was happening to him.
* He was already awake when the lights automatically came on in his cell at 6am, and the brightness drilled mercilessly into his eyes, increasing the pain that was threatening to implode his brain. As the MPs had stripped him of everything during his arrest, he didn’t have anything to ease the agony, so he curled up on his side, pulling a blanket right over his head. Fifteen minutes later an MP hammered on his cell door, and shouted something that he didn’t register. A further fifteen minutes passed before the door swung open and two MPs entered. “Colonel O’Neill. Stand to attention.” He didn’t move from under the blanket so the MP, after signalling for a colleague to back him up, stepped forward and yanked the blanket away. “Did you not hear me, Colonel? Stand to attention!” Jack unfurled himself from the bunk, and stood up painfully, seemingly unable to stand to attention. His eyes were glassy and unresponsive, and he merely seemed to obey like a confused child when the MP indicated to the door and said, “Follow me.”
* As he put the telephone down, General Hammond felt as if the walls were closing in around him. The cadet had died twenty minutes ago and the charges against Colonel Jack O’Neill had just been severely upgraded from assault to murder.
* “Has he been examined by a doctor, sir?” Major Phil Donaldson looked at Colonel John Simpson, and then indicated to the door behind him. “He doesn’t look well.” Simpson glanced through the small viewing window. “Yes, Major. He was checked over by a doctor when he arrived. Apart from an elevated blood pressure and increased pulse rate, which were both understandable, he was cleared as fit and healthy.” He turned away from the window, not quite believing the situation. He knew Jack O’Neill, and this just didn’t make sense. Donaldson sighed. “Okay. But I’d like the doctor to see him again before he’s transferred.” Simpson nodded and motioned to one of the MPs. “Ruiz, please get Dr Warner down here.” The MP moved away to the telephone, and was back moments later. “Sir, Doctor Warner is still at the Cheyenne Mountain base. Doctor McKenzie is available, and will be down in fifteen minutes.” Donaldson flicked through the file he was holding. “When will he be transferred to Fort Leavenworth?” Simpson glanced at his watch. “It’ll be a couple of hours.”
* McKenzie unwrapped the blood pressure cuff and successfully suppressed the smirk that he so desperately wanted to show on his face. Dr Warner had done a fine job with handling Colonel O’Neill’s medication, and now he had to do his part. He put the cuff down on the table and retrieved a med kit from his bag. “What are you giving him, Doctor?” Donaldson was watching carefully. McKenzie expertly filled a syringe with a colourless liquid. “It’s nothing. Just a mild sedative, something to relax him for his trip. His BP is still running a little too high, and we wouldn’t want the journey to stress him out too much.” He injected the contents of the syringe into Jack’s arm. The Colonel flinched slightly as the drugs entered his system but remained silent. “I’ll call ahead to Leavenworth and make sure he’s checked out on arrival.”
* “They’ve moved him.” Sam read the email carefully, and then deleted it. “He’s already on his way to Leavenworth.” “Leavenworth? Why are they moving him?” Jonas looked confused. Sam paced up and down her lab floor. “Fort Leavenworth is, amongst other things, the United States’ Disciplinary Barracks. When it’s a charge as serious as murder, and you’re a Special Ops Colonel, then that’s where they send you.” Jonas shook his head. “Is it just me, or are you having as hard a time as I am believing that the Colonel is guilty?” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s just not . . .” “I know exactly what you mean.” Sam agreed. “So I think we need to start examining the Colonel’s actions over the past few weeks. Something just can’t be right.”
* Sitting in the back of a military truck, wearing bright orange overalls, his wrists and ankles shackled and attached by a chain to a belt around his waist, Jack began to gradually come out of his state of fugue. At first he really didn’t have a clue as to what was going on and, as any good soldier would do, sat quietly in an attempt to assess the situation. But, no matter how long he stared down at his chains, he couldn’t come up with any reasonable explanation as to what the hell was happening. Finally, he lifted his head up. The two MPs sitting opposite him tightened their grips on their weapons as he looked at them. They had been travelling for over three hours and this was the first time the prisoner had done anything other than stare blankly at his shackles. Now, he looked at them in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?” The MPs exchanged a quick look with each other and then one of them spoke. “You’re being transferred to Leavenworth to await court martial.” Jack pulled at the chains while trying to process the information, an action which made the MPs even more nervous. He tried desperately to recall how he had ended up in the back of the truck, but everything was out of sorts. The feeling of confinement from the chains was beginning to agitate him and he began pulling against them harder. “Colonel, please desist from your actions.” The senior of the two MPs was now on full alert. He knew this guy had been Special Forces trained and, as a result, he was more than a little anxious about having to deal with him. But Jack wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. Inside him feelings of fear began to well up, like molten lava, as he headed for a full blown panic attack – something he couldn’t control. He started struggling harder and harder against the restraints as memories of other times he’d been chained surged to the surface, other times his liberty had been denied him, other times others had controlled him. And like a volcano erupting with violence Jack tried to do what his confused and terrified instincts told him to do. He tried to break for freedom. One of the MPs banged against the side of the van, signalling for it to pull over whilst the other MP moved to grab hold of one of Jack’s arms in an attempt to restrain him. But Jack simply threw him off and struggled yet more violently against the chains. Picking himself up off the floor of the van, the MP was joined by his colleague as once again they tried to restrain the panicking prisoner. Moments later they were joined by their two colleagues, who had been travelling up front, and whilst three of them managed to get hold of the man the fourth MP retrieved a medical kit. He grabbed a syringe pen and, shouting a warning to his colleagues, jabbed it into the struggling man’s thigh. After a couple of minutes, Jack stopped struggling and slumped back on the bench unconscious.
* McKenzie wasn’t surprised to receive a phone call from the CMO at Leavenworth, who updated him on what had happened during the transfer. McKenzie put on an act worthy of an Oscar when assuring the CMO, a Dr Jacobs, that he had had absolutely no evidence to suggest that Colonel O’Neill would have gone into a full blown anxiety attack and that, based on all his years of knowing the Colonel, he would never had expected it from him. After putting the telephone down he allow himself a smirk. Of course the Colonel would never have a panic attack. It was what he’d given the Colonel just before the transfer which had caused that.
* Without opening his eyes, Jack knew that he was in an infirmary, and by opening his eyes he merely confirmed it. He felt like crap, his mouth was dry and he had that muzzy feeling that indicated that he had been drugged. Wanting to sit up, he tried to move his arms and found that he was restrained. With a resigned feeling, he lifted his head up and saw the soft restraints that were wrapped around his wrists and ankles. “Standard procedure, Colonel.” A man he didn’t recognise appeared at his bedside. “Do you want to sit up?” Jack shrugged and the man took that as an affirmative. Moments later, the head of the bed had been raised and Jack now had a view of the area. “I guess I made it to Leavenworth, then?” The man nodded. “You are in the infirmary attached to the USDB. I’m the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Jacobs.” “What did I do?” Jacobs pulled a stool up and sat down. “You were being transferred here from Peterson and you went . ….. how did the MPs put it …….. a little crazy. They stuck you with enough sedative to bring down an elephant, which is why you are currently a guest of the infirmary.” Jack frowned and shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean that. Why am I here? At the USDB?” Jacobs looked at him closely, not knowing if the man was trying to wind him up. “Colonel, you were transferred to the USDB on a charge of murder.”
* General Richard Hawker had not been a happy man when Colonel Jack O’Neill had been delivered to Leavenworth unconscious and taken straight to the infirmary. After receiving a report on what had happened, he retreated to his office and picked up the telephone.
* Major Donaldson arrived at Leavenworth the following morning and was more than a little surprised to be directed to the infirmary. He was shown into a small office and left to kick his heels for twenty minutes before Dr Jacobs arrived. “Major Donaldson? I believe that you are Colonel O’Neill’s defence attorney?” He closed the door behind him. Donaldson nodded. “That’s correct.” He glanced around. “So are you going to explain what is going on?” Jacobs sat down on one of the chairs. “It would appear that Colonel O’Neill had what we would call a manic episode whilst being transferred. He got violent and subsequently the MPs were forced to sedate him.” Seeing that Donaldson was about to protest, he held his hand up. “They used a rather heavy dose and we admitted him to the infirmary for twenty four hours of observation. This afternoon he will be processed as a normal prisoner.” Donaldson didn’t look impressed. “I want to talk to him.” Jacobs shrugged. “He’s awake, so it won’t be a problem.” He rose to his feet. “But I think there’s something you should be aware of.” He paused, and Donaldson looked at him enquiringly. Jacobs continued, “He didn’t seem to know why he had been arrested. We told him the charges but that’s about it.”
* Hammond wasn’t surprised to see Sam standing in the doorway when he looked up from his paperwork. “Major Carter?” Sam stepped into the office. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you but I was wondering if you had any news on the Colonel?” He leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to close the door, which she did before moving to stand in front of his desk. “At ease, Major, take a seat.” He waited until she was seated before continuing. “All I know at the moment is that he has arrived at the USDB and will be held there until his court martial. A Major Philip Donaldson from JAG has been assigned to defend him. I received a call from him first thing and he’s due to speak to the Colonel this morning.” Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m kind of finding it hard to understand all this.” Hammond nodded sadly. “So am I, Major, but it’s happening.” He looked uncomfortable. “In the meantime, SG1 has a mission tomorrow.” “A mission, sir?” Sam stared at him in disbelief. Hammond shook his head. “You were scheduled to join Teal’c at the Alpha site. I see no reason why the mission should be delayed. You head out tomorrow as planned at 1400 hours.”
* Jack felt like he was trapped in a living nightmare as he listened to Donaldson explain to him the events that had led to his arrest. He couldn’t believe that he had been charged with assaulting a cadet under his command, and beating him senseless in front of witnesses. At first he thought that it was a set up but, when Donaldson had given him the witness statements to read, he had gone numb when he had seen Lou Ferretti’s name on one of the statements. And when Donaldson had told him that the cadet had died from his injuries, he had thought he was going to be sick as he felt the colour drain from his face. He sat staring at the file of evidence, desperately racking his memory for anything, anything, that would help him understand what happened. But there was nothing. He couldn’t remember anything. It was as if the past few weeks had just never happened. Donaldson had watched him closely, asking subtle questions and, with a growing horror, realised that the man sitting opposite him appeared to have absolutely no recollection of the events that led to his present situation.
* After a two hour session with Major Donaldson, Jack was subjected to one more medical exam before being declared, once again, medically fit. Major Donaldson had argued with Doctor Jacobs that he was unhappy with the decision. It was clear that O’Neill had suffered some kind of mental trauma and was in need of further help. Although he hadn’t been successful in preventing O’Neill’s discharge from the infirmary, he had managed to get a promise from Jacobs that he would watch him closely and schedule further tests. Guards were summoned and Jack, dressed once more in orange overalls, was shackled for his trip to the main prison. Jacobs and Major Donaldson stood together and watched as he was escorted out of the infirmary, the chains causing him to adopt an ungainly shuffle. Both were deeply uneasy about the decision to put such a high ranking officer into the main prison population, and both were deeply concerned about Jack O’Neill’s state of health.
* It was headline news on the prison grapevine that a real live Air Force Colonel was about to be introduced to the USDB’s population, and the inmates were more than a little curious. It was exactly what Hawker had hoped for. The guards and inmates alike had expected the Colonel to be held in confinement, away from the general population, but he had made it clear that O’Neill would be placed in a regular cell and be expected to follow the rules and regulations just like all the other inmates. He also knew that most of the inmates wouldn’t take too kindly having a Colonel amongst them. Problems with authority were why most of the men were in Leavenworth in the first place. A colonel represented authority with a capital A. A colonel in the main prison population spelled trouble with a capital T. For the Colonel.
* Hammond watched with relief as Major Carter and Jonas Quinn stepped through the wormhole, knowing that they were now out of harm’s way. Leaving the Control Room, he strode briskly to his office and closed the door firmly behind him. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. After eight rings it was answered. “Maybourne? We have to meet as soon as possible.”
* The guards weren’t happy as they escorted their prisoner to his allocated cell. Processing Colonel O’Neill had taken longer than expected and as a result most of the inmates had returned to the block for an hour before supper call. As they led him along the metal walkway the intensity of the stares unnerved them, and again they found themselves silently questioning Hawker’s orders that the Colonel should not be placed in solitary confinement. Reaching their destination the guards unshackled Jack and, when he didn’t move, pushed him none to gently into the small room. As he stood in the middle of the cell, looking around, they left. “Home sweet home.” He sat down on the small narrow bunk, leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pray that it was just all a bad dream, but he knew better than to close them when the cell door was unlocked. He took in his new home, the beige chipped walls, the toilet in the corner behind the door, the cracked sink, the small locker, and the narrow metal framed bunk with the typically lumpy mattress. “Christ.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Welcome to Hell.”
* Former Air Force Lieutenant Rob Neumann was in a foul mood as he stomped along the walkway towards his cell. Today was the third anniversary of his incarceration and, although Hawker’s arrival four months ago had made life easier for him, the anniversary still reminded him that he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. He remembered the closed door court martial where they sentenced him to spend the remainder of his living years in the USDB, then the second meeting, before his transfer, when the NID told him that they would set his family up for life as long as he stayed quiet. It had been a no win situation, nobody would have believed him about travelling to other planets, and they had played on his only weakness . . . his family. With a scowl he forced himself to stop dwelling on it, and that was when he noticed that something wasn’t quite right on the floor. Normally the pool table would be in use and at least three or four radios would be playing loudly. Glancing over the walkway he saw that most of the men were gathered on the ground floor, talking amongst themselves. The guards were keeping their distance but you could tell that they were uneasy. Thinking that maybe he should just keep his head down, curiosity got the better of him and, when he reached the next set of stairs, he went down to join them. “Hey Gunny, what’s going on?” Neumann went straight to the man most inmates regarded as the ‘head guy’. Gunny had been a guest of the USDB for eight years, after masterminding a theft of guns and weapons from the armoury at the base where he had been stationed. Six foot four, addicted to body building, and possessing a mean temper – nobody messed with him. “We’ve got a new guest.” Gunny indicated a cell just two doors down from Neumann’s. “And?” Neumann shrugged. “We get new guests all the time. What’s different this time?” “It looks like you’ve lost the title of highest ranking officer, former Lieutenant Neumann, sir.” An inmate sneered. Neumann looked back up at the cell. “An officer?” It was unusual to say the least and he remembered the reaction when they had learned that he had been a Lieutenant. “What rank?” “Colonel.” Gunny didn’t look impressed. “Air Force.” Neumann gave a low whistle. “A Colonel? Do we have a name?” But before anyone could answer the cell door that everyone had been scrutinising, swung open.
* Jack had sat on the bunk for what seemed like an eternity before giving himself a severe talking to. He knew he was in trouble, no officer would have an easy time in the USDB, but he knew he couldn’t hide in his cell forever. Deciding it was time to get the lay of the land, so to speak, he got to his feet.
* Neumann stared at the figure and at that moment thought that he must had died and gone to heaven. Without realising his actions, he pumped his arm up and down. “Yessss!” Gunny raised an eyebrow. “Neumann?” Neumann couldn’t wipe the look of satisfaction off his face. “Gunny, my prayers have just been answered.” He pointed to Jack, who was now walking along the walkway. “Remember me telling you how I ended up here?” Gunny grinned. “That’s the officer that betrayed you?” Neumann nodded. “Oh yes, and I feel that revenge is going to be so sweet.”
* If they thought that the USDB was going to intimidate him then they were going to be sorely disappointed. Ignoring the stares from the other inmates, Jack walked the internal perimeter of the barracks, noting the washrooms, mess hall, guard rooms, and where the guards were usually stationed. Satisfied with his reconnaissance he decided to return to his cell, and it was then that he saw Neumann. “Damn.” He muttered it under his breath as he watched the young man climb the stairs to cut him off. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Colonel O’Neill.” Neumann now blocked his way. “I never thought I’d see you again.” “Leave it, Neumann.” “Leave what, O’Neill? I just thought that I should be the one to welcome you to your new home.” He stepped closer to the older man. “After all, we’re almost neighbours.” Jack took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head before speaking, keeping his voice low, “Neumann, I can assume by the fact that you are still breathing that your buddies down there don’t know the real charges you faced at court martial. As I recall being a traitor to your country wouldn’t go down too well, even in here.” He jabbed his finger into Neumann’s chest. “So I would advise you to drop the crap and stay away from me.” Neumann’s eyes flashed angrily. “And if I don’t?” Jack shrugged. “I’ll let you think about that.” He sidestepped around the man and returned to his cell.
* Hammond stepped into the quiet bar and made his way over to one of the corner booths. As he sat down a waitress appeared, and he ordered a beer. Moments later the beer was in front of him and he looked at his watch impatiently. “Now, now, General. You should know by now that I’m never late.” Maybourne slid into the booth opposite him and signalled the waitress, ordering a scotch on the rocks. When he had his drink, Maybourne eyed the General closely. “I guess they finally got Jack then?” Hammond nodded. “A couple of days ago.” “Is he alive?” Maybourne sipped the scotch, savouring the taste. “They’ve got him in Leavenworth.” Maybourne put the glass down and grimaced. “Clever. How?” Hammond’s shoulders slumped. “He beat the crap out of a cadet during SGC training. They arrested him for assault, threw him in the brig at Peterson.” Maybourne frowned. “So how did he end up at the USDB?” “The cadet died from his injuries.” Hammond finally drank some of his beer. “They transferred him to Leavenworth the next day.” “And you think that it’s a set up.” Maybourne finished his drink and caught the eye of the waitress, who brought over another drink. Hammond waited until she’d gone. “Jack had been acting somewhat strangely for the last couple of months, I just put it down to the stress. Dr Jackson’s death hit him hard, and then there was the Tok’ra……..I should have looked into it more closely.” There was a trace of guilty regret in his voice. “What about Major Carter and Teal’c? Surely they must be digging into it all.” Hammond shook his head. “I’ve sent them off world. If they’ve got Jack, what’s to stop them coming after the rest of SG1? I thought it would be safer to keep them at the Alpha Site until I knew what was going on.” Maybourne nodded in agreement. “Okay. Tell me everything, and I mean everything.”
* Back in his cell, Jack had a hard time fighting the instinct to beat the crap out of something. He knew he’d been set up, it had to be the only explanation for his memory loss . . . he just wished he could remember. Ignoring the bed he slid down on the cold floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His head was beginning to ache and the confidence to face everything head on was beginning to ebb away. With a weary sigh, he moved his elbows to rest on his knees and placed his head in his hands.
* It was a simple plan but Gunny was determined that nothing would go wrong as he sent an unobtrusive signal to an inmate, who then began yelling and hollering at another prisoner. The guards, preparing for shift change at the guard room, began to take notice and when the pushing and shoving began they moved towards the disturbance. Gunny sent his next signal.
* Jack, his mind going over and over what his defence attorney had shown him, the evidence against him, the kid’s blood on his hands, failed at first to hear the noise outside. Finally lifting his head up, he only had seconds to register the three men entering his cell. As he scrambled to his feet, he cursed his stupidity at letting his guard down. Being on the floor gave his attackers an advantage as they grabbed hold of him. Not prepared to give in without a fight, Jack lashed out, and his legs connected with one of the men who gave a pain filled grunt. Suddenly his legs were kicked out from beneath him and he was thrown heavily to the floor. He opened his mouth to start shouting, but they were prepared, and a rag was shoved into his mouth. He struggled violently as two of them pinned him to the floor, and he tried desperately to spit the gag out. Then came the pain as his third assailant delivered several brutal kicks to his sides before telling his friends to let go of him. Jack instinctively rolled over onto his side, and curled up, his body reacting to the pain. ”Friggin’ officer.” One of the assailants muttered it under his breath as he kicked the prone figure in the kidneys. “This is just a lesson for you, so that you know your place.” He kicked him again and again, inflicted yet more pain. He only stopped when his comrades motioned that their time was up. The gag was quickly removed, and the barely conscious man was unceremoniously hauled up off the floor and dumped onto his bunk, a blanket thrown over him. By the time he regained some of his senses the lights had gone off, and the doors automatically locked down for the night.
* Harry cursed himself as he left the bar and began the walk back to his motel, only a couple of blocks away. As soon as Hammond had begun talking he’d known who had been behind it. Senator Kinsey’s presidential campaign was moving up a gear and the man could ill afford any scandal. Knowing that both ‘Starsky’ and ‘Hutch’ had enough information on him to ruin not only the campaign but his entire career was undoubtedly a major thorn in the man’s side. With Maybourne declared a known traitor, and on the run from the authorities, it had left Jack wide open to Kinsey’s attack. Now he just had to put the puzzle together and get Jack the hell out of Dodge.
* The guard strode along the metal walkway, opening cell doors and checking to make sure that their occupants were up and moving. When he reached Jack’s cell he swung the door open and saw the occupant hadn’t made any attempt to rise. “Time to get up!” His voice boomed around the tiny room and he was rewarded with movement. Jack, ignoring the searing pain which seemed to radiate throughout his entire body, pulled himself up into a sitting position and slowly swung his legs out over the side of the bunk. Satisfied, the guard moved on. Wrapping his arms protectively around his bruised and battered body, he gritted his teeth and stumbled to his feet. Not caring that he was still in the same clothes as yesterday, he pulled all his strength together and made his way out of his cell. * Neumann stopped in his tracks when he saw Jack move past his cell, not believing what he was seeing. Gunny had told him his men would work him over so well that he wouldn’t walk for a week. Yet there he was – heading down to the mess hall for breakfast.
* The attack was the talk of the mess hall with all the inmates wondering why they weren’t on lockdown. Surely the guards would have discovered him by now? So when Jack made his entrance, and joined the end of the queue for food, an eerie silence fell over the entire room. Despite the excruciating pain, Jack couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction that he had got one over on these men. He also knew that it wouldn’t be long before he’d be making a trip to the infirmary. He had a session with his JAG attorney this morning and he’d know straight away that something was wrong. He got himself a plastic mug of coffee, made his way to the nearest empty table, and sat down. From across the mess hall Gunny watched Jack with something bordering on admiration. He knew that the man was hurting, you could tell by the pasty colour of his face, the sweat on his brow, and the way his hands shook when he picked his coffee up. But he wasn’t calling attention to himself and it was at that point that Gunny began to wonder. In his experience officers were bastards who made trouble at the drop of a hat. They moaned like hell about the slightest thing. Complained like friggin’ children if they got hurt. Maybe he’d been unlucky, but he’d never come across an officer who’d earned his respect. O’Neill shouldn’t be on his feet. He should be in his cell crying for a visit to the infirmary. Or busy trying to help the guards identify the men who’d beaten him up, and getting them slung into solitary. But he wasn’t. Just one sip of coffee and Jack’s stomach rebelled, causing him to push the mug away. Preoccupied with fighting the nausea he didn’t notice the approaching guards. “O’Neill, your JAG attorney is waiting.” One of the guards stood to the side of him. “Time to go.” Jack started to get up but was too slow for the guard’s liking, who grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. The sudden movement was too much for Jack’s battered body, and the pain that erupted was just too much for him to bear. Without a sound his eyes rolled up and he slumped bonelessly to the floor. As the blackness claimed him he vaguely heard alarms.
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