Strict procedures didn’t allow medical staff into the main prison barracks area until all prisoners had been returned to their cells and a lockdown was in place.  Dr Jacobs hated this rule as it wasted valuable time –  time that could be spent treating a patient.  But, like any good soldier, he remained in the sanctuary of the guard room until the all clear could be given.

Finally it was confirmed that lockdown was in place and Dr Jacobs and three of his medics were escorted to the mess hall, where the only activity was centred around a single inmate lying on the floor.  As Jacobs approached the scene he recognised the man.

Ordering the guards to give them space to work, Jacobs allowed his medics to work and within seconds they were beginning to report vital signs.  Grabbing a pair of scissors from a med kit, he knelt down next to the unconscious man and began cutting away his clothes.  One look at the bruises and he knew it was serious.  “Get him on a backboard.  I want him in the infirmary now!”

*

Hawker stepped into the mess hall just in time to see Jack being loaded onto a gurney.

“Report”  He looked at one of the guards, who shook his head.

“I’m sorry, sir, but nobody knows what happened.  He just collapsed.”  The guard looked bewildered.

Hawker scowled.  “I want incident statements on my desk like yesterday.”  He stepped aside as the medical team rushed past with the gurney and got a look at the patient.  He knew that there would have to be enquiry, it would be too suspicious if the attack wasn’t investigated.  But he knew that there would be people who would be pleased with the turn of events, and he suspected that the investigation would be brushed under the carpet.

*

Donaldson, waiting in one of the interview rooms, glanced at his watch and wondered how long it took for a prisoner to be brought up.

*

Maybourne rubbed his tired eyes and poured himself yet another cup of coffee.  He had spent the entire night on his computer looking for clues within the confusing network of NID contacts, with little success.  Whoever was controlling this had it sewn up tightly.

Sitting back in his chair he went over in his head everything that Hammond had told him and began scribbling points down on a notepad.  Coming to the end of his list, he reviewed it time and time again.  And each time he ended up back at the top of the list where he had written “migraines”.  He knew that research had been undertaken after a high proportion of SGC personnel that used the Stargate complained of headaches, but he couldn’t recall these headaches developing into migraines.  Maybe it was time to talk to the SGC’s CMO.

*

“Three cracked ribs, bruised kidneys, fractured collarbone, and extensive bruising.”  Jacobs looked at Donaldson.  “He’s in a lot of pain at the moment but he’ll make a full recovery.” 

Donaldson looked over the doctor’s shoulder into the exam room, where his client was currently situated.  “Has he woken up?” 

“Yes.”  The doctor looked defensive.  “But only briefly.  He’s on some painkillers that pack quite a punch, so he’ll be drifting for a while yet.  I’m afraid that he won’t be up to questions for at least another twenty four hours.” 

Donaldson nodded in relief.  “Good.  I don’t want anyone talking to him unless I’m there.”  He checked the time.  “I need to call some people but I’m staying on base.  When he wakes …” he dug into his pocket and retrieved a card, “please call me.”

*

Janet Fraiser struggled into the house, arms loaded with grocery bags.  Having been away in Washington for the last three months, the kitchen cupboards needed to be restocked before she returned to duty at the SGC.  Kicking the door shut behind her, she felt one of the bags give, and she cursed as fresh vegetables spilled out onto the floor.

“Damn!”  She dumped the rest of the bags on the floor and knelt down to retrieve the escaping potatoes.

It was then that she saw the note lying on the doormat. 

The groceries abandoned she sat down on the floor and picked the envelope up, seeing her name scrawled on the front.  Recognising General Hammond’s handwriting she opened it, and frowned as she read the contents.

It was request for a meeting off base and she instantly knew it had to be about Colonel O’Neill.  Sam had called her in Washington to explain the circumstances behind his arrest, and the two friends had gone on to discuss the whole shocking scenario.  Both had agreed, without reservation, that something wasn’t right.  From the tone of his note, it was pretty clear that the General felt the same way.

*

He instantly recognised the fuzzy feeling in his head, and the dry cotton taste in his mouth, as the after effects of some sort of drug, and he needed water to wash it away.  Without thinking he attempted to sit up and was unprepared for the agony.

“Jeez!”  He clutched his chest, and gasped for breath, tears springing to his eyes.

“Now, that wasn’t very clever, was it?”  Dr Jacobs, who had been sitting at his bedside updating charts, eyed his patient. 

Jack scowled at him.  “Ya think?”  He said it through clenched teeth as he waited for the pain to subside. 

Jacobs shook his head, and put the files down on the floor before getting to his feet.  “I would advise you to lie back down, it’ll reduce the pain.”

Jack flashed him another scowl but, nevertheless, lay back down.  Jacobs gave a small grin, and raised the head of the bed slightly so the other man could see his surroundings.

“As you can see, you’re back in the infirmary.”  He checked the monitors, noting Jack’s vital signs.  “Care to tell me what happened?”

“I tripped.”  The pain was lessening now and his breathing was beginning to ease.  “Small room, lots of obstacles, go figure.”

Jacobs sighed and returned to his chair, stooping down to pick up one of the files.  “Your medical file came with you and I took the opportunity to glance through it.”  He tapped it meaningfully.  “It’s certainly an eye opener.”

Jack tried to hide his surprise.  Surely they wouldn’t have sent a medical file which would have included any injuries from SGC missions?

“But you must be very clumsy.  You have a few recent scars that aren’t explained in your file.”  Jacobs knew he was playing with fire. 

Jack turned away from him, grimacing from the pain.  “Yeah, well . . . you know what it’s like.”  He closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation. 

*

The last person Janet expected to see when she knocked on the motel door was Harry Maybourne, and she stepped back looking around uncertainly.  It wasn’t until she saw General Hammond already in the room that she stopped.

Maybourne smiled.  “Dr Fraiser, thank you for joining us.”  He opened the door wider.  “Please come in.”

Janet stepped into the room, carefully avoiding Maybourne, and focussed on the General.  “Sir?”

“It’s all right, Doctor.”  Hammond waved her over to the table in the corner.  “I’m glad that you could join us.”

Janet slid into a chair and looked at her superior.  “Sir, what’s going on?”

Hammond picked up a pot of coffee and poured her a mug.  “It’s about Colonel O’Neill.”

Maybourne joined them at the table.  “And the fact that he’s been framed for murder.”  He looked at her closely.  “You don’t seem surprised?”

“No I’m not, Maybourne.”  She fixed him with a steely glare.

“Can I ask why?”  He matched her glare for glare.

“Because I know the Colonel.”

Maybourne nodded his approval.  “Good, because we need your help.”

“Help?  I don’t understand.  I wasn’t even on base when everything happened.”

Hammond sighed.  “We need to know about his migraines.”

Janet frowned and looked at the General.  “Migraines?  The Colonel suffers from headaches, not migraines.”

*

Gunny lounged against the wall in the recreation area having watched the activity surrounding O’Neill’s cell.  Judging by their actions, it was pretty clear that O’Neill hadn’t given them squat to work with and, by early evening, things had died down and the tension in the barracks was beginning to ease.  Gunny decided it was time to seek out Neumann, who had been keeping a low profile for most of the day.

“Neumann.”  He located the man in his cell, where he was reading a book.

Neumann put the book down and sat up straighter on his bunk.  “Gunny, what do you need?”

Gunny shrugged and leaned against the wall.  “Tell me about O’Neill.”

“There’s not a lot to tell.”  Neumann sounded hesitant, not sure where Gunny was going with this.

Gunny shrugged again.  “So . . . tell me what you do know.”

Neumann nodded slowly.  “He was in Special Forces, saw action in most of the hot spots so rumour had it.  All I know is that when he got me arrested, he was working on special projects, all highly classified stuff.   I got caught when he went undercover to investigate the theft of military technology.  My boss trusted him, and I ended up here.”  He cleared his throat.  “Why did you wanna know?”

Gunny shrugged yet again, and left without answering.

*

Janet emptied the remaining contents of the third pot of coffee into her mug and gave a tired sigh.  “I need to check his records back at the SGC, but I can certainly say that I didn’t authorise any new pain medication for the Colonel.  His headaches where lessening in severity and frequency.” 

“Warner?”  Hammond shook his head in disbelief.  “Are we suggesting that Warner is involved in this?”

Maybourne looked at the list of names he had scrawled on a piece of paper.  “Doc Fraiser here was suddenly pulled out of the SGC to work in Washington for three months. Warner steps in to cover.  No one is suspicious of Warner because he’s been working on and off at the SGC since the beginning.  Warner starts Jack on new medication and gradually Jack’s mental state deteriorates.  Everyone blames it on the debilitating migraines he’s been suffering and . . . bingo!”  He snapped his fingers.  “They’ve got him.”

“But Warner . . .?”  Hammond glanced at his watch.  “Okay, I think we need to call it a night.  Dr Fraiser, we need to know what medication Jack was on but we don’t want to make Warner suspicious.”

Janet nodded.  “That won’t be a problem, sir.  I’m back on duty tomorrow and Warner is returning to his post at Peterson.”

*

“And where do you think you’re going?”  Jacobs stood at the end of Jack’s bed, his arms folded across his chest. 

“Bathroom.”  Jack had draped a robe over his shoulders, and was currently leaning against his bed to catch his breath.

Jacobs shook his head and then noticed the Foley lying on the floor, where Jack had thrown it after pulling it out.  “I don’t think so, mister.  You’re going to get back into that bed, and I’m going to reconnect that Foley.  You took some hits to your kidneys and I need to keep you under observation.”

“Tough.”  Jack shuffled past him and then stopped.  “I may be in prison, but that doesn’t mean I lose my rights.” 

Jacobs looked at him angrily.  “Like that cadet you killed?”  He regretted it the instant he said it. 

Jack looked straight back at him, his eyes unwavering.  “Listen Doc, I don’t know what happened.  Maybe I killed him. Maybe I didn’t.  Hell, I wish I could remember.”  He took a deep breath.  “But I know one thing . . . if it turns out I didn’t kill that boy, I will always regret his death if he died because of me.”  With that he limped away leaving the doctor watching him thoughtfully.

*

It had been a busy morning in the infirmary.  SG5 had had a run in with a Jaffa patrol on PX6 992, and as a result Janet didn’t get to sit down in her office until after lunch. 

Biting into a sandwich, kindly provided by one of her nurses, she got down to reading through Jack’s medical files.  Warner had been meticulous in his record keeping but she was taken aback to find he had prescribed Percocet when the Colonel’s migraines had been at their worst.  It was something that she wouldn’t normally have prescribed, preferring instead to manage the pain with Tylenol and rest. 

The telephone ringing interrupted her and she snatched up the receiver.

“Fraiser.”

*

Jacobs put the telephone down and looked across the infirmary at the patient who had captured his curiosity.  During his talk with Dr Fraiser he couldn’t help but pick up the genuine concern she had for the Colonel, although she’d maintained a professional conversation. 

She’d mentioned migraines and to check he was still taking his medication, which Jacobs had queried because nothing had been in the file that he’d received.  They had ended (the conversation) with her promising to send on the missing records.

Concern, and respect, of the depth Jacobs had sensed Fraiser felt for O’Neill was rare.  It took an officer of unusual quality to earn that.  Jacobs had seen them all come through his infirmary; bully boys, tough guys, mean sons of bitches, and other real nasty pieces of work.  They were the types to beat a man to death.  Jacobs had studied O’Neill’s medical file.  Knew something of what the man had suffered over the years.  But nowhere did it indicate he was the sort to commit the kind of crime he was accused of.  And, somehow, Jacobs just didn’t read him that way, either.

“……I will always regret his death if he died because of me.”

Things just didn’t seem to add up.  And Jacobs began to wonder even more about his stubborn patient.

Seeing the arrival of O’Neill’s defence attorney he left his desk to meet him.

“Afternoon, Major Donaldson.” 

Donaldson gave him a cursory nod.  “Dr Jacobs.  I got a message that Colonel O’Neill was awake?”

Jacobs indicated to the bed in the far corner.  “He is, but I must warn you that he’s not in a good mood.” 

Donaldson grimaced.  “How long is he going to stay in the infirmary?”

“Until tomorrow.”  Jacobs held up his hand to stop Donaldson’s protests.  “The good Colonel has decided he doesn’t want to stay any longer than that.  And he has his rights.”

Donaldson looked as if he was going to protest, but Jacobs shrugged.  “Those were his words, Major.  Not mine.”

*

“Well, well, well, look who’s back.”  Neumann watched as Jack was escorted along the walkway to his cell.  He could tell that the man was still in pain, he was walking stiffly and his right arm was held in a high sling to protect the fractured collarbone. 

Gunny couldn’t help but overhear Neumann and decided it was time to issue a warning.  “Cool it, Neumann.  O’Neill is off limits until I say so.”

Neumann looked at him angrily, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with Gunny.

*

Maybourne knew he had to be careful with Hammond and Fraiser, it would be too much to hope that the NID wasn’t watching key personnel at the SGC.  To meet again too soon would be pushing their luck, but Maybourne had unearthed some interesting information on Dr Warner that he wanted to give them. 

He just had to figure out how.

*

Jack still ached from head to toe and the temptation to curl up on his bunk was high but he wanted a shower, hot water to blast away the stiffness.  Everyone was in the mess hall for lunch so he knew that he wouldn’t be the centre of attention as he limped out of his cell.

The shower did its job easing the stiffness enough to make him feel human again.  Wrapping a towel around his waist he stepped out of the shower stalls and over to one of the sinks. 

Gunny slid silently into the large communal washroom having seen the Colonel go in there earlier.  He stayed silent as he took in the bruises on the man’s torso, still livid from the beating two days ago.  Seeing the injuries for himself, Gunny again felt surprised to see him up and about.

“Seen enough?”  The voice made him jump and, as he snapped out of his reverie, he found O’Neill looking at him.  It was then that he saw the mark, something that took him back over ten years.

Jack, seeing Gunny staring at his chest, began to feel uncomfortable and he reached over to grab his t-shirt, ignoring the pain as he pulled it on. 

Gunny pulled himself together and shrugged.  “I saw you come in here and, after you’d been here a while, I guess I thought I’d just check you were okay.”

Jack shot him another look and finished dressing.  “Yeah, well, I’m fine.”  He picked the sling up, decided he didn’t need it, and then limped past the man in the doorway.

Gunny let out the breath he had been holding, and shook his head, his hand going to the raised scarring on his chest – feeling it under his shirt.  He hadn’t thought he would ever see another man who bore the same mark.

*

The MP entered the infirmary and caught the attention of the nearest medic.  “Excuse me, where can I find Dr Jacobs?”

The medic glanced around to locate the doctor and then pointed to the small office.  “Over there.”

The MP nodded his thanks.  The door was open but he still knocked.

Dr Jacobs looked up from his work, surprised to see an MP.  “Yes?  Can I help you?”

The MP put a paper bag he’d been carrying on the desk.  “I escorted a prisoner in a few days ago by the name of O’Neill.”  He shrugged.  “I was meant to hand over his belongings, but in all the fuss it got overlooked.”

Jacobs shrugged.  “The prisoner isn’t in the infirmary anymore.  Why didn’t you just take it to the processing area?” 

The MP looked sheepish and Jacobs understood.  “Don’t want to be caught failing to follow correct procedures?”  Deciding to let the man off the hook, he took the bag.  “Don’t worry, son, I’ll make sure that the prisoner gets his stuff.” 

The MP shot him a grateful look and left, leaving Jacobs with the bag.  He placed it back down on the desk and stared at it.  Then with a sigh, he opened it up.  Inside were O’Neill’s wallet, keys, and other bits and pieces.  But it was the small bottle of pills that got his attention.  Without hesitation he picked the item out of the bag, read the label, and then opened it, shaking a couple of the tablets out onto his hand.  With a frown he looked at the label again.  It was clearly marked as Percocet, but the tablets he held in his hand were definitely not Percocet.

*

A guard had delivered his prescribed painkillers on time and Jack found himself drifting in and out of sleep.  As the guards were keeping a very close eye on him he was more than happy to just lie there, as even the stupidest of inmates wouldn’t try anything at the moment.

When he heard footsteps approaching, despite the drugs, he cracked his eyelids open expecting to see a guard walk past.  But it wasn’t a guard.  Struggling to sit up, he recognised his visitor as the man from the washroom earlier.  “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Gunny stepped further into the cell.  “I wanted to talk.”

Jack shook his head.  “I think you’ve caught me at a bad time, you see some goons did me over a couple of days ago and I’m feeling a little under the weather.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”  Gunny tried not to smile at the obvious sarcasm.  “That’s partly why I’m here.”

Jack leaned back tiredly against the wall.  “As you don’t seem to wanna take the hint about leaving, you may as well choose a piece of floor and sit down.”

This time Gunny did allow himself a small grin as he lowered himself down.  “I’m Gunny.”

“I know.” 

“Thought you might.”  Gunny glanced at the open door to check that he wouldn’t be overheard. 

Jack followed his line of sight.  “You know, it’s against the rules for you to be in this cell.”

Gunny shrugged.  “I had a word with the guards, they know I’m in here.”  He returned his attention to Jack.  “The guys were a bit rough.” 

Jack shook his head.  “No kidding.  So what’s this then?  An attack of conscience?” 

Gunny drummed his fingers on the floor.  “No, I don’t apologise for my actions.  It’s how I’ve survived in this place for the last eight years.  I just wanted to ask you something.”

Even Jack couldn’t quell his curiosity.  “Ask me what?”

Gunny pointed to Jack’s chest.  “In the washroom, I saw it.”  He hesitated, not quite sure how to continue.  “You were there in Iraq, weren’t you.  I recognised the mark.”  He looked at O’Neill, and flinched when he saw the ice cold look he now wore.  Without another word he lifted up his t-shirt. “Because I see it in the mirror every morning as well.”

“And that makes us friends, does it?”

Gunny lowered his t-shirt.  “No, it doesn’t.  But it does mean I made an assumption that led to a mistake.”

The ice cold look was disappearing but Jack was nowhere near comfortable.  “I thought you never apologised?”

“I don’t usually but I can make an exception.  Hell I’m in here for breaking the rules.”  He got to his feet.  “Let’s just say I screwed up and I’m sorry.”  He turned to leave.

Jack cleared his throat and waited for Gunny to look round, which he did, eventually.  “Apology accepted.” 

Gunny gave quick nod and left.

*

Cassie threw her backpack down on the kitchen table in a temper and stomped over to the fridge.  It was just a few days before the start of summer vacation and she’d been set a stack of science homework.  Normally it wouldn’t have been a problem, she could have got Sam over to help her, but, having called mom at work, she’d found out that Sam was off world. Which meant she’d have to do it herself.  Mom had made it clear that she was busy on base and wouldn’t be home until late.  Still sulking she opened her bag and pulled her books out.

Opening the soda she rummaged through the pile of books looking for the one she needed, and stopped when she saw the large brown envelope.  She put the can down and picked the envelope up.  Written on the front of it was: ‘Urgent.  For Dr Fraiser’s eyes only.’ 

*

“He must have slipped it into her bag when it was in her locker.”  Fraiser handed the envelope to Hammond.  She wasn’t happy that Maybourne had involved Cassie, but she had to admire the man’s ingenuity.

Hammond sat back and read the contents.  “Well, this is a turn up for the books.” 

Fraiser nodded in agreement.  “It would appear that Dr Warner has taken quite a few trips to Nevada, and not to any military installation.” 

Hammond held a piece of paper up.  “And accumulated a few debts on the way.”  He shook his head.  “Something that the NID could so easily manipulate to their advantage.”

*

Hawker remained seated behind his desk as the two guards led a shackled Neumann into his office.

“That will be all.”  He dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, ignoring the puzzled looks they exchanged. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, he leaned forward.  “Neumann, I believe that we share a common interest.”

*

Jack poked at the contents of the bowl with his spoon, not quite sure what it was supposed to be. 

“It’s good for you.  Makes you grow big and strong.”

Jack put the spoon down and looked up at the voice, not the least bit surprised to see Gunny settling himself in a seat opposite him at the table. 

“If this is oatmeal, then I need to apologise to the canteen at my base.  What they serve is gourmet compared to this.”  He picked his mug of coffee up.  “Don’t you know you’re blowing your reputation by sitting with me?”

Gunny didn’t answer, concentrating on the bowl of grits in front of him.

With a sigh Jack picked up his spoon, and forced himself to eat the oatmeal.

*

Janet had just finished her regular morning team briefing when she got a call from Gate Security.

Taking the elevator to the second floor, she made her way to the visitors’ conference room, hesitating before entering.

“Dr Jacobs?”  She closed the door behind her and looked at the man already seated at the table.

He quickly rose to his feet and walked over to her, his hand extended.  “Dr Fraiser, I assume?” 

They shook hands and he returned to his chair, whilst she pulled a chair up next to him.  “Dr Jacobs, I was more than a little surprised to learn that you were here.” 

He nodded and dug into his pocket.  “I came because of these.”  He held a small bottle up.  “It’s a prescription drug for Colonel O’Neill.”

Janet took the bottle from him and, as he had done the day before, read the label before emptying the contents onto the table in front of her.

“These aren’t Percocet.”  She picked up one of the small white pills.

Jacobs smiled.  “I’m glad we’re in agreement, Doctor.  I take it that Colonel O’Neill doesn’t take Percocet?  Otherwise, he would have immediately noticed a difference.  After all, Percocet tablets are twice the size of these suckers.”  He toyed with one of the tablets.  “Besides, I wouldn’t have expected a field soldier on active duty to be on Percocet because of the drug’s side effects.”

Janet put the pills back in the bottle.  “Where did you get these?”

“They were amongst the Colonel’s belongings.  I kind of took them without permission.”  He shrugged.  “They hadn’t been logged yet.” 

Janet felt the relief.  “I need to get these analysed.  Find out what these tablets really are.”  She looked at him.  “Please….” 

He smiled.  “I know, don’t tell anyone.  Look Dr Fraiser, I know something is going on that I won’t even pretend to understand, and I know enough to keep my mouth shut.”

Janet nodded.  “Thank you.”

*

Senator Kinsey was in New York for a major fund raising event for the Republican Party.  Already, in political circles, he was tipped to be the next Republican nominee and he had to maintain a high profile.  Visibility was the aim of the game once he’d removed the final skeletons from his closet.

In his sumptuous hotel suite he had dismissed his staff for a couple of hours claiming  that he had a headache.  Kinsey felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the irony of that excuse.  As soon as the last one had left he pulled a cell phone out of his briefcase, one that was guaranteed to be a secure line, and entered a number.

“Have you found him?”

He listened for a short while, and a smile grew on his face.

“Then take him out now.  I’ll call back in an hour.”

*

If anyone ever asked him, Harry Maybourne would swear he was born with the ability to sense when things were about to turn bad.  Okay, he would admit to the odd lapse, such as allowing O’Neill to bring down his little rogue operation, but he was only human. 

This time he knew he wasn’t wrong.

Moving quickly, he erased anything that would connect him with Hammond and Fraiser, destroying his laptop, and burning any paper copies. 

It was time to run.

*

The van sat idling around the corner from the motel until word was received to move in. 

Expertly the team moved through the shadows avoiding detection, stealthily making their way towards their objective.  Communicating only with hand signals, they moved to take their target down.

Only to find the room empty.

*

Kinsey switched the cell phone off and threw it across the room in disgust.

*

His visit with Major Donaldson hadn’t gone well. 

He had sat and listened as the man talked Jack through how he would present the case for the defence, only to become flustered when Jack argued against his reasoning.  The debate had become heated as both men became increasingly frustrated.  Jack had wanted a date for the court martial but Donaldson had been unable to give him one, and the session had ended with Jack violently shoving his chair backwards as he stood up, and sweeping all the Major’s papers onto the floor in a fit of exasperation.

“For cryin’ out loud!  You talk more than Daniel and Jonas put together.  And say far less!  I just want something sorted out, before I go totally nuts in here.”

At this point the guards had intervened and Jack, despite Donaldson’s protests, had been forcibly shackled and led away.

After an afternoon in confinement to ‘cool down’,  Jack was returned to his cell, where he sat and brooded until supper call.

He’d been in the USDB for three weeks now and it was beginning to close in around him.  Gunny recognised the signs and was determined to head them off at the pass.  Over the past couple of weeks, he and Jack had formed what either man might grudgingly call a friendship, much to the surprise of the other inmates, and Gunny was quickly learning the Colonel’s moods because they were so much as his own had been at the beginning of his sentence.

“Hey.”  He settled into his normal seat opposite Jack.  “Long visit with your Major today?” 

Jack pushed his tray away.  “Not really.  Spent most of the afternoon in solitary to gather my thoughts.”

Gunny enthusiastically attacked his food.  “Threw a temper tantrum then?”  It was said round a mouthful of food.

Jack shook his head in disgust.  “Gunny, where are your manners?  And no, it wasn’t a temper tantrum, it was a exhibition of frustration.”  He scrubbed his hand through his hair.  “I just feel like nothing is going my way.  I can’t try to prove my innocence, even to myself, when the only communication I have with the outside world is through a JAG lawyer whose head is stuck up his own ass.”  He slumped back in his chair.  “I think I’m going to go crazy.”

Gunny finished his food and gulped down a cup of water.  “I have an idea.  Come with me.”

*

The lab results were back from the private lab in Denver, delivered to Janet’s house by courier.  It had been far too risky to have the mystery pills analysed by a military laboratory, so she and the General had stumped up the hefty two thousand dollars fee between them to have it done privately.

Janet sat at her kitchen table staring numbly at the piece of paper in front of her, her mind spinning as she thought about the living hell that Jack’s life would slowly have become once he started taking Warner’s prescription.  The chemicals listed would have caused sleep deprivation, severe mood swings, paranoia … the list of side effects was frightening.  And in that state he’d have gradually lost his ability to be tolerant, and deal with challenging circumstances in any sort of reasonable, and balanced, frame of mind.  Until, in effect he was not responsible for his own actions.

And in that vulnerable condition Jack had been easily manipulated into a situation where a young man had lost his life. 

Janet wanted to be sick.

“How could I have been so stupid!”  She said it out loud, smacking her hand down on the table.  She needed to see the autopsy report on the cadet.

*

The therapy was working, Gunny reflected, as he watched Jack pound the living daylights out of the punch bag in the recreation area.  With every punch he could see the stress lifting and, after twenty minutes of constant action, Jack finally dropped his arms to his side.

“Feeling better?”  He stepped up in front of Jack and indicated for him to hold his hands out before unlacing the boxing gloves.

Jack nodded, too out of breath to answer. 

With a grin, Gunny tossed the gloves back in the equipment box.

Neither man noticed Neumann watching from a distance.

*

The first thing Janet noticed as she entered the General’s office was just how tired and stressed the man was looking, and it worried her.  In all the years that she had worked with him this was the first time she had seen him like this. 

“Sir?”

He looked at her wearily and waved her to a chair.  “Any news?”  He leaned forward in his chair, resting his hands on his desk.

She put the file she had been holding on his desk.  “The results on the pills came back, it’s as we suspected.”  Surprised that he made no move to pick the file up, she continued.  “Have you heard from Maybourne, sir?”

“Maybourne’s gone.” 

“Gone?  Gone where?”

Hammond sighed.  “He said they were on to him and he had to go.  He can’t help anymore.”  He shook his head.  “I’m at a loss about how to continue.”

Janet looked at him in disbelief.  “Sir?”

He slumped back in his chair.  “Last night I sat down and I read Jack’s file, his mission reports . . . how many times he’s unselfishly put his country ahead of his own personal safety . . . everything.”  He shrugged.  “And now he’s suffering because some ambitious, selfish people have decided he’s a threat to them.” 

“Sir . . .”

He shook his head.  “I don’t have any proof that it’s Kinsey and I was relying on Maybourne to get it, but he’s failed.”  He cleared his throat.  “Jack’s in prison because of me.”

Janet’s eyes narrowed.  “And how did you come to that conclusion, sir?”

“Jack has a disk, a disk that would destroy Kinsey’s political aspirations.  He obtained that disk, and deliberately put himself in harm’s way, because he wanted to protect me and my family.”

She took a deep breath.  “Where’s the disk?”

*

It was hard to keep the surprise off his face when he saw his latest patient being escorted into the infirmary, and decided that this was one he was going to handle himself.

“Long time no see, Gunny.”  Jacobs pointed to an empty gurney.  “Take a seat.” 

Gunny, cradling his left hand, got up onto the gurney and waited for Jacobs to continue.

“So, what happened?”  Jacobs gently took hold of the injured hand and began his examination.   The hand was swelling up and the bruising was going to be spectacular. 

Gunny shrugged, wincing at the pain the movement caused.  “I managed to slam my hand in a door.  Stupid really.”

Jacobs sighed.  “I won’t disagree with that.”  He went over to one of the cupboards and returned with a icepack.  He laid it across the swollen hand.  “You’ll need an x-ray but I don’t think anything’s broken.  I’ll get someone to do the x-ray.”  He turned to leave.

“Doc?” 

The tone of voice made Jacobs stop in mid-stride and he turned back to look at the inmate. 

“Yes, Gunny?”

“I need to talk to you about someone.”  Gunny looked uncomfortable.  “I need to talk about Jack O’Neill.”

Jacobs frowned and moved back to stand in front of Gunny.  “Is he okay?” 

Gunny lifted up his injured hand.  “I think it’s safe to say that that would be a no.”

Jacobs pulled up a stool and sat down.  “Are you telling me you slammed your own hand in a door so you could get a chance to talk to me about Colonel O’Neill?”

Gunny ignored the question.  “Doc, you’ve got to do something.  He’s climbing the walls.”  He sighed.  “I’ve done all I can, but it’s not working and it won’t be too long before he goes ballistic.”

“And do what?”  Jacobs looked straight at him.

“He’s not handling the lockdown at night, so he ain’t sleeping.  He’s not getting the answers he needs from JAG, no contact from the outside, and it’s all making him stir crazy.  Hell, Hawker’s had him in confinement three times this week which just makes it worse.   It’s like the bastard’s got it in for him.  The slightest thing and he ends up in solitary.”  Gunny fiddled with the icepack.  “He’s going to blow, and it ain’t going to be pretty.”

Jacobs sat back and thought about it. 

He’d read O’Neill’s medical file.  Four months as a POW in Iraq was not the kind of background to make a man happy about being confined.  And stretches in solitary were not going to help in any way at all.  Gunny was right when he said it was as if Hawker had something against the Colonel.  Every time he was pulled in front of the governor by the guards for infringing the rules he got time in solitary, a punishment that was guaranteed to push the man closer and closer to the edge.  And the guards seemed to have their eyes on O’Neill a lot, watching for the slightest thing.

Jacobs wondered if he should try and speak to Hawker.  After all the welfare of prisoners was his responsibility.

Finally he looked back at Gunny.  “Then he’s got to get sick enough to be brought back to the infirmary.” 

Gunny frowned.  “And how’s that gonna happen?”

Jacobs smiled.  “Leave that to me.  Go get your hand x-rayed.”

*

For what was probably the millionth time Janet wished the rest of SG1 were back at base, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen.  Each time Sam put a request for the team to return to Earth something else happened at the Alpha site which required them to remain.  Janet was more than suspicious, knowing that Hammond and Sam’s father, Jacob, were undoubtedly behind the conspiracy to keep SG1 off world.

The autopsy report was back on the dead cadet and she had reviewed it, but could see nothing wrong with the findings.  The young man had died from a massive cranial bleed and the pathologist had surmised that the blows received in the attack had weakened a blood vessel in the brain, which had then ruptured a couple of days after the attack.

The autopsy had been methodical and all avenues explored.  There was nothing she could dispute. 

She was beginning to feel like General Hammond.

*

Gunny, his hand heavily bandaged, entered the mess hall and located Jack, sitting as usual on a table in the far corner on his own.  Ignoring the food, he went straight to the coffee urn and snagged two mugs, slipping a tiny pill into one of the mugs, before walking over to join his friend.

“Hey.”  He sat down at the table.  “Brought you more coffee.”  He pushed the laced beverage in front of Jack.

Jack ignored the coffee and his eyes locked on the bandaged hand.  “Heard you were in the infirmary.  How is it?”

Gunny shrugged.  “I’ve had worse.” 

Jack didn’t ask any more questions and eventually, much to Gunny’s relief, he began to drink the coffee.

*

“Doctor Fraiser?”  Lieutenant Gomez hovered on the doorway looking into the doctor’s office.  “I was going down to the commissary and wondered if you wanted anything?”

Janet looked up from the stack of paperwork in front of her.  “No, I’m fine.  Thanks anyway.”

Gomez nodded, turned to leave, and then changed her mind.  “Doctor Fraiser, could I ask you something?”

Janet pushed the paperwork to one side and indicated a chair.  “Of course.”  She smiled, “any excuse to ignore the paper mountain.  What’s up?”

Gomez sat down and immediately began fiddling with the ring on her finger.  Janet watched the action and looked concerned, Gomez had only just got engaged.  “Maria, is everything okay with your fiancé?”

Gomez looked at her in surprise and nodded her head adamantly.  “Yes, Josh and I are doing great.”  She sighed.  “It’s about something that happened here when you were in Washington.” 

“Something?” 

Gomez looked at the paperwork on the desk.  “There was a drug discrepancy.”  She paused for a long time.  Then, “I didn’t report it properly.”  She looked upset.  “Dr Warner told me it was probably a miscount and I shouldn’t worry about it.”

Janet frowned.  “He said that?”  A few weeks ago she would have been surprised to find Warner had said anything that indicated such poor management, but now it was just another suspicious item to add to the list against the man.  “What drug was it?”

“Potassium chloride.” 

Janet looked at Gomez in shock.

*

Gunny had watched Jack go back to his cell and took note of the time, knowing that the drug would take effect about thirty minutes after being taken.  Jacobs had warned him that it would make Jack dizzy and nauseous, the symptoms strong enough to call for admittance to the infirmary.  Keeping a close eye on the time, he returned to his game of pool.

Twenty minutes later he called the game quits, and headed for the stairs leading to Jack’s cell.  Only to find his way blocked by two of the three new guards, whose arrival a few days back hadn’t been missed by Gunny.  They were big and burly, and seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in Hawker’s company.

“Get out of my way.”  He went to push past them but they didn’t budge.  He sensed the third new guard, who had been leaning against the wall, move up behind him and he felt something sharp being pressed into the small of his back.  He gave in, glancing anxiously towards Jack’s cell, before letting himself be led away.

With Gunny out of the way, Neumann and two inmates slipped into Jack’s cell.

Jack had been lying on his bunk, trying to ignore just how crap he was feeling, when his uninvited guests arrived.  Seeing Neumann he struggled to his feet, disregarding the fact that everything was spinning. 

“Get the hell out, Neumann.”

Neumann grinned and shook his head.  “You no longer outrank me, O’Neill.  I don’t have to listen to you.”

Jack took a step forward and staggered, opening up the perfect opportunity for Neumann.  He didn’t know what was up with O’Neill but it was definitely working to his advantage.  Within seconds his cohorts had Jack in a hold, remembering Neumann’s warnings that they couldn’t mark him, and had forced him into a corner on the floor.  Jack was struggling weakly but his body was uncooperative, and he slumped back.

Neumann knelt down in front of him and pulled out his trump card – holding it in front of Jack’s face.  “The disgraced Colonel couldn’t face a court martial, the humiliation of a prison sentence, and the end of his career.  So he decided to take his own life.”  He gloated.

Jack began struggling again with every last vague trace of energy he had, pulling weakly against the hands that restrained him.  His eyes locked on the razor blade in Neumann’s hands.  But to no avail.  His body seemed drained of any strength whatsoever.

He could only watch in horrified fascination as Neumann made his move.

*

Gunny was found twenty minutes later in a shower stall, he was naked and the water was still running.  It was assumed that somehow he had managed to slip and knock himself out.  And a medical team was called.

*

Jacobs had been surprised when he’d got the call for a medical team to go down onto the floor.  The pill would have made Jack sick, but he should still have been well enough to be brought up to the infirmary by the guards.

Reaching the guard room, he waited anxiously for lockdown to be confirmed. 

“What have we got?”

One of the guards looked at him.  “Gunny.  He slipped and knocked himself out in the shower.”

Jacobs leaned against the wall and thought, ‘Shit’.

The buzzer sounded, confirming lockdown, and the medical team were led to the washroom where they worked quickly and efficiently.  Within ten minutes Gunny, still unconscious, was on his way to the infirmary but without Jacobs.

“Doc?”  The guard he’d spoken to while waiting for lockdown, tapped him on the shoulder.  “What are you waiting for?”

Jacobs sighed.  “I need you to check on O’Neill.”  Seeing the guard’s questioning look, he shrugged.  “Trust me.  Please check on O’Neill.”

The guard looked across at one of his colleagues.  “Mike, the Doc wants a check on O’Neill.  Can you do it?”

The other guard nodded.  “Sure.”  He left the washroom and Jacobs found himself pacing, and trying to ignore the feeling of dread. 

A couple of minutes later the shout went up and he was running.

With two other guards in tow, and out of breath by the time he reached the first floor landing, Jacobs was unprepared for the sight that met him as he rushed into the cell. 

Jack was slumped in a corner, the blood pooling around him.  His arms were resting on his thighs with the cuts across his wrists clearly on display.  His skin was white, almost bleached, providing a stark contrast to the deep crimson of the blood that was soaking his uniform, and spreading out, obscenely, across the floor.  As Jacobs moved closer he could see that Jack was still breathing, but there was a worrying tinge of blue on his lips. 

Recovering from the initial shock, he yanked the sheets off the bunk and began tearing them up. 

“Get another medical team down here now!”   Grabbing the first wrist, he worked fast, using the sheets as bandages.  “I need help!” 

One of the guards stepped forward and Jacobs had him press down on the covered wounds to try to prevent any further blood loss.  He then bandaged the second wrist, and held on to it for dear life.