Inquisition.

by Flatkatsi

Status: Complete

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Pairings: None

Spoilers: None

Season: Any

Content Level: 18+

Content Warnings: Jack whumping, torture

Archive: Incoming Wormhole, Jackfic

Summary: Demons come in all forms

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

Author's Note: Karen of Knox Villa made me do it. Nutty helped.

Inquisition

Part One

They were well concealed behind thick bushes at the top of the ridge, overlooking the large village - more of a town really, it's streets paved with cobblestones, several substantial buildings lining the main thoroughfare. They watched as the day-to-day lives of the people flowed below them, men hurrying to work, women sweeping the steps. Children playing. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary. Daniel had put the level of development at late medieval, pointing out the small panes of glass in the windows, the open drains and general lack of hygiene. Sam had responded by noting the dresses on the women - ankle length with heavy sleeves and high necks. This had started a discussion on the medieval perception of women, brought swiftly to a halt when a middle-aged matron was thrown bodily out the front door of a house and given a hard cuff on the head by a man whom the watching team took to be her husband. Daniel had glanced at Jack, sensing his reaction, and saw narrowed eyes and lips thinned in disapproval.

Another hour of observation confirmed their suspicions - definitely a male dominated society. Daniel could feel Jack getting tenser by the minute, and was hardly surprised when he finally spoke.

"Okay, we're out of here. There's no reason to stick around."

"Yes, sir." Sam started to get up, careful to stay concealed. "There's no sign of naquadah or any other useful resources here, and I can't say that I want to get up front and personal with the natives."

"Hold on a second." Daniel peered through his binoculars. Something had caught his eye, shining in the centre of the village square.

"Daniel, come on. I don't want to hang around here any longer than we have to." Jack's voice showed his irritation.

Daniel turned. He knew Jack wasn't going to like what he was about to say.

"I think that you need to have a look at this." He pointed down. "In the square."

The machine gleamed silver and gold in the bright sunlight, the wagon that had concealed it trundling off down a side street.

"Looks like the snakes have been here after all." Jack turned over, lying on his back, his sunglass covered eyes staring straight up, thinking. "We better go see what it is. Carter, I want you and Teal'c to stay here, and keep an eye on things." He twisted and got to his feet. "If we aren't back by nightfall, get back to the gate, and contact base."

"Are you anticipating problems, O'Neill?"

"Not really, Teal'c," Jack shook his head, "but there's something about this place that I don't like. That's why I want you here, as backup."

"Wouldn't it be better if I went with you, Colonel, especially if it's a machine down there?" Sam argued.

"No, Carter. I've just spent the last hour watching how these people treat their women." He raised a hand, forestalling her protest. "I know that you can look after yourself, but I see no reason to antagonise the locals, and you and I both know that is exactly what will happen if you walk into that town. No, you stay here with Teal'c. That way I know Daniel and I have backup if anything goes wrong."

Sam acknowledged her orders with a nod. Daniel could see her frustration, but she knew better than to argue with Jack when he was in this sort of mood. He picked up his pack and settled it on his shoulders, ready to follow the Colonel down the slope.

**********

"This looks very...quiet." The uncomfortable feeling that Jack had experienced while watching the town was increasing with every step they took. They had reached the outskirts, the first buildings appearing to be small private dwellings, with more substantial homes further towards the centre. The few people that they had seen from the hill were conspicuous by their absence.

"Maybe it's meal time?" Daniel was looking around him, searching for any sign of life, a worried frown on his face.

"I don't like this one bit." Jack settled his P90 more firmly, his finger twitching. "Keep alert."

"As always, Jack," came the distracted reply.

"Yeah - right!" The Colonel snorted, his mouth turned up slightly in a small smile.

They were almost at the machine, a large gleaming shape covered in symbols. Daniel was obviously finding it hard to not hurry forward, Jack could almost feel the tension in him, like a taut spring about to snap, but he hung back, letting Jack take the lead. A movement between two buildings on their right had Jack spinning, raising his weapon to watch a group of eight men approaching, solemnly dressed in blacks and browns. Jack could see no welcome in their faces; there were no friendly smiles.

"Hello. We are peaceful explorers." Daniel launched into his standard spiel. "I am Daniel Jackson. This is Colonel O'Neill."

The tall, gaunt man standing at the head of the group took a step forward. He was dressed completely in black, except for a small touch of white from the collar peeking above his robes, his face pasty and unhealthy looking.

"Welcome. I am Pater Yleek." His expression belied his words; there was nothing of welcome in it. "What do you here?"

Daniel seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of hostility. "As I said, we are explorers. We would like to learn more about your people."

"Why?" Again the Pater spoke, the other men remaining silent.

Jack didn't wait for Daniel's answer. Every nerve in his body was warning him that this was so not a good place to stay. He didn't care about the machine. He just wanted out of there.

"True. Very good point." He interrupted, out of the corner of his eye seeing Daniel shut his mouth, a look of surprise on his face. "We'll leave you good folks in peace, and be on our way."

"Jack..."

He didn't even look at the other man. "Shut up, Daniel. We're out of here."

"I think not." The Pater's voice was cold and decisive, but Jack didn't have time to do more than take a step back, before more men entered the square, crowding the two of them, forcing them closer together. Jack held his gun up threateningly, motioning them back, pleased that Daniel had also drawn his Beretta.

"Look," he tried to reason with them, keeping his tone low, "We don't want any trouble. Just let us go and no one will be hurt."

His words were ignored as if he hadn't spoken. They found themselves being pushed back, retreating, eyes searching for another way out. They ended with their backs against the wall of a low building, their weapons raised.

"Jack?" Daniel was looking to him for suggestions. He had only one, one that he was reluctant to take. Firing on unarmed men, no matter how threatening they seemed, was not in his nature.

The decision was taken out of his hands.

His head exploded with pain, the world tipped sideways, and the ground came up to meet him.

**********

Daniel rubbed his ear against his shoulder, trying to clear the ringing. His arms ached making him think that he had been hanging unconscious in these chains for quite some time. He tried to take his weight off his wrists, but his feet barely brushed the floor, already his toes were feeling the strain, curling in. His movements made him spin slightly, a painful pirouette held in place by the hook in the high ceiling.

He looked over to where Jack was similarly hanging, envious that the other man's extra couple of inches allowed him to stand reasonably comfortably. He was pleased to see that Jack was finally looking a little more alert, the last hour or so spent hanging in this cell with an unconscious companion was one that he didn't want to repeat in a hurry. All his shouted attempts to rouse his friend had been unsuccessful, until finally Jack had begun surfacing by himself.

"Daniel?"

"Hey Jack. You okay?"

Daniel watched as the other man straightened, raising his head to look around. It took several seconds before his eyes reached Daniel's position, their light dull.

"Been better. How about you?"

"Wishing I was taller." He saw Jack's puzzled look and took pity on him. "I'm fine, considering the circumstances."

"Yeah, about that." Jack was trying to twist around, surveying the large room. "What the hell happened?" He sounded confused, unsure of himself, and Daniel could see the effort that it was taking him to stand upright, even with the help of the wide chains holding him in place.

"I think that they had someone on the rooftop above us. All I know is that one minute you were standing there next to me, the next there was a thump, and you were lying on the ground making friends with a brick."

Jack blinked a few times before speaking. "A brick. That explains the headache then. How long was I out?"

"It also explains the blood on your face, Jack. You took quite a blow - probably about two hours, I'm not sure, I was unconscious for a lot of it. Someone hit me with a club."

"Shit, Danny. You okay?" Daniel's confession seemed to bring Jack fully alert for the first time since he had roused.

Daniel smiled at the concern in his friend's voice "Better than you, I think."

"Any idea what they want?"

"Well, judging by the culture, I'd say that they're late medieval level in development." Daniel thought for a moment. "The man who spoke to us looked like some sort of religious leader, by his clothes and title."

"And that helps us how?"

Daniel felt a moment of annoyance, Jack's expectation of an easy answer irritating him, then he took in the other man's appearance, the blood still wet on the side of his face, the glazed eyes, and swallowed down his anger. He was about to continue when the sound of footsteps came from behind him. He held his breath, his spine tingling with the knowledge that someone was behind him that he could not see. He needn't have worried. The steps continued until the Pater came into view, coming to a halt between the two hanging men.

"Good, I see that you have finally awoken." He addressed Jack, "Now we can begin."

"Now we can be released." Jack spoke with conviction, as if he expected to be obeyed without question. Daniel thought of the many times he had used this same tactic. It never worked. He had once asked Jack why he bothered, and had received the off hand reply of "you never know, it may work one day."

Today was obviously not the day.

"I will release you." The answer was unexpected. "After you have answered some questions."

"Great! What's the capital of France? I can answer that - Paris. How about Independence Day? Fourth of July. That enough? Can we go now?"

"Where is the demon?" The Pater's voice cut across Jack's.

Daniel exchanged confused looks with the Colonel and shook his head slightly.

"Sorry - got no idea what you're talking about." Jack snapped out his reply.

"I explained before. We're peaceful explorers." Daniel decided that it didn't hurt to try again. Maybe they hadn't understood.

The black robed man ignored him completely, all his attention focused on Jack. "We saw you come from the Devil's Circle. You were accompanied by your demon and a witch. Tell us where the demon is hiding, and I shall grant you release from your life of evil. We will find the truth, be certain of that." He turned a dismissive eye to Daniel. "Do not think that your servant can help you. The only thing that can save you is confession." He reached out and touched Jack's arm, swinging him. "Tell me where the demon is."

Jack kept his feet with difficulty, the stubborn look that Daniel knew so well settling over his face.

"Go to hell."

Daniel winced. Given what he had deduced from the Pater's words, that wasn't the best answer.

The priest smiled and nodded, almost as if he had welcomed Jack's reply. "No, but it is certain that you shall."

Daniel shivered. He looked at the stern man in front of him, saw the light of the fanatic in his eyes and knew him for what he was.

An Inquisitor.

He did the most appropriate thing under the circumstances. He prayed. Prayed that Sam and Teal'c would rescue them soon.

**********

"I can't see the Colonel any more." Sam peered through the binoculars, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The Colonel and Daniel had met with a group of men in the square, that much she had been able to see, but the buildings had hidden them from view. Anxious minutes had passed, as they waited for the men to come in to sight again, but so far they could see no sign of them.

"They appear to have gone into one of the buildings on that side of the square." Teal'c answered her. "The locals seemed unarmed. I am sure that there is nothing to be concerned about, Major Carter."

Sam nodded, settling herself into a more comfortable position. She was probably worrying over nothing. "I suppose we will just have to wait." She looked at her watch. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable."

**********

There had been no more questions. The Inquisitor had been joined by three men, three of those that had been with him in the square. Candles had been lit, illuminating the far corners of the vast room.

What Daniel saw there made him gasp.

The instruments of torture, like something out of a museum. The low bench, chains on either side. The tongs and pinchers. The brazier, already lit, coals glowing hotly. The rack.

"My men are hunting your companions as we speak. It will not be long before they are found." The pale face shone in the flickering light. "It would save us much time if you ordered your servants to reveal themselves." He gestured, and the chains holding Jack in place were released by one of the men, as the other two stood waiting to support the Colonel. As the chains loosened, Jack swayed, his eyes closing for a moment. Daniel could see that the cut on his head was bleeding again, the fresh blood mingling with the old, his wrists cut and bleeding from holding the full weight of an unconscious man.

Daniel shook his head from side to side in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to them. This was the sort of thing he read about in books, not experienced first hand. Their captors pulled Jack towards the table, ignoring his struggles as the Colonel's tired and weakened body betrayed him, and pushed him on to it, pulling his arms above his head and his legs taut. Daniel saw him conceal a grimace of pain as ropes were tied around his wrists and ankles, fastening them in place. The ropes, in turn, were connected to handles. Jack turned his head and looked him straight in the eye, and Daniel saw that he knew exactly what was happening. The first twist of those handles came as no surprise, the unsmiling men taking turns to twist one handle, and then the next, giving no hint as to which limb would be stretched, the anticipation as much a part of the torture as the pain.

"Tell me where the demon is." The Inquisitor's voice was demanding.

Jack didn't respond, as Daniel knew he wouldn't. The following turns of the handles were like knives in Daniel's gut. He watched Jack's face go pale, his teeth biting on his lower lip until the blood ran.

"There isn't any demon. We are human, just like you." Daniel shouted the words into the gloom, trying to make them understand. "Please stop this."

He heard the reply as the Pater bent over Jack.

"Tell your servant to be silent. I know the truth. You led your fiends through the Devil's Circle. I am allowing you time to repent before God judges you. Confess that you are a servant of Satan, and tell us where the demon and the witch are, and I will give you a quick end."

Daniel knew what was coming. He held his breath as Jack shook his head once more.

The handles turned again.

Part 2

Jack tasted the blood in his mouth from his lip. The pain was almost exquisite in its intensity, rivalling any that he had felt before. After a quick look exchanged with Daniel, he kept his eyes open, looking up into the face of his torturer. He knew that there was no point in speaking. The man's mind was made up. Jack had seen that look in the eyes of such men before. It made no difference if he answered the questions. It was the asking that was the point, not the answer.

He felt the pull of the ropes, felt his left arm stretching at an angle it wasn't designed to bear until it reached its limit and with a resounding crack he felt his elbow joint pop and shatter under the strain. But he kept his eyes open, fixed on his tormentor.

The sound of retching came from the other end of the room, where he knew that Daniel was still hanging in his chains. He didn't turn. He could not allow himself to be distracted.

He divorced himself from what was happening, focusing on the smiling face of the man bending over him. Etching it deeply into his mind.

The agony burnt up his neck as his left shoulder was pulled from its socket, almost undoing him.

The priest turned away, his lips thinning. He left his side, moving away, and Jack let his lids close for a moment, blinking away the betraying moisture before it could be seen.

The sound of approaching footsteps had Jack snapping his eyes open again, to meet the dead ones of the priest.

"You are strong in the power of Satan. I can see that. But know this - I have the power of God behind me and his instruments of your salvation in my hand." He ripped apart Jack's shirt and bent. Jack's eyes widened as he took in what the man held over him, its tip glowing red hot. The cross shaped brand plunged hard into his body, burning the symbol of God into the flesh of his side.

He slipped into darkness accompanied by the shouts of his friend.

***********

Daniel couldn't help himself. The smell of burnt skin sent his stomach into spasms, his dry retching wracking his twisting body. He struggled against the chains, knowing that he had no hope of escape, but he had to do something. There must be something that he could do or say that would prevent this horror from continuing.

The Inquisitor hadn't stopped when Jack lost consciousness, his brand had made its mark three more times, red raw crosses burnt in an unholy line up his side. The turns of the rack hadn't been halted either, the left arm ignored and the attention turned to the other long limbs, the sound of the handles turning, the creak of joints straining almost to breaking point, echoing loudly in the large room.

Daniel prayed, prayed that Jack wouldn't wake up and find himself back in hell. He begged until his throat was dry, until his voice became a whimper lost in the dark.

He hung, his eyes shut against reality. There must have been something that he could have done to prevent this. He should have been able to explain. That was his job, what he was meant to be good at, communicating. He should have convinced them that they were the good guys.

He hadn't and now Jack was paying the price.

He opened his eyes; the loud gasps from the unconscious man calling him back, only to see the variations on a theme, almost unbelievable in their cruelty.

Oh Jack!

***********

"Oh God!" Jack couldn't help himself, he surfaced to such total pain that he writhed on the hard wooden surface, unable to stop the traitorous moans that crept from his mouth.

"Jack."

The voice was small and on the very edge of his awareness, easily submerged in the agony.

"Jack. They'll be coming back soon. We have to get out of here while we have a chance." The call was urgent.

He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but a sullen dullness, fog ridden and murky.

"Come on, Jack. They've untied you. Now's our chance. We've done this before and we can do it again. SG-1 can get themselves out of anything. Anything, Jack." It was persistent, that voice, keeping up the monologue, not letting him rest. He needed to rest. If he rested he might feel better when he woke.

"Jack. You can't do this. It isn't in you to do this. You've never given up, never quit on me. Don't do it now."

The voice was getting quieter, softer, easier to ignore.

"You're the only hope we have. They'll come back, and they'll beat us. No second chances this time. They'll have won, Jack. They'll have won."

There was silence for a time after that, silence rent by his own harsh breath.

When the voice came again, it was louder, and, yet, more hopeless. "It can't end here, Jack. It just can't. They'll kill us, and then they'll go after Sam and Teal'c. They'll torture them, just like they have you. You're the only hope they have."

The fog ate at him, sending tendrils into his mind, bringing with it the memories that he had tried to leave behind.

It was the sob that undid him. The complete surrender.

He had to reach the voice, explain that he couldn't help.

Jack O'Neill pulled his body up and over, falling to the floor with a scream.

***********

Daniel had never seen anything like it.

He had watched as Jack had been beaten and tortured, watched as his unconscious friend was taken to the edge of death and then left, broken on the rack. His protests had fallen on deaf ears, the vile Inquisitor sure that Jack was still aware, still scheming, after all he was the Devil's follower and a small thing like torture couldn't possibly have bothered him. With horror Daniel had seen the Pater continue to ask questions, demand confession, alternately shouting and whispering into the unresponsive man's ear.

There was nothing left in him, the first bout of nausea brought on by the sound of his friend's elbow dislocating, had been followed by more as the torture continued. He was left thirsty and forgotten, nothing more than a piece of meat hanging from a hook in the corner.

Finally they had left, leaving Jack where he lay, dead for all Daniel knew. He had done the only thing that he could, talked into the blackness, and entreated until his voice was raw. Begged Jack to be alive.

When he heard the low groan he almost wept with relief - relief that had been short lived. His pleading words seem to have no effect, and as the minutes ticked by he began to despair of ever getting out of this scene from Dante.

Jack's sudden movement had taken him completely by surprise. He winced as the tall body fell in a boneless heap to the ground, closing his eyes at the scream.

Then he had watched in total disbelief as Jack began to crawl towards him, inch by painstaking inch. The escape that had seemed an impossible dream became a possibility, remote though it was. He hung, knowing that all he could do to help was keep the other man anchored to the lifeline of his voice. He called to him softly, as one would to a small child or a pet, scared to speak louder and break the spell.

"That's it, Jack. Just a little further.. come on, Jack you can do it, I know you can...don't stop now, you're almost there."

He knew that Jack was following the sound of his voice; he had raised his head from the floor once as he clawed his way across the stone floor, his eyes unfocused and unseeing, but after that he had kept his head down, as if the effort had been almost too much.

Daniel had no idea how long it took. All he knew was that he spent the whole time with one part of his attention concentrated on the door, expecting their captors to return at any moment.

They couldn't be this lucky, could they?

He brought his thoughts up short. Luck - there was nothing of luck in this. This was an abomination brought about by pure evil. He felt the rage grow in him as he watched the bravest man he knew do the impossible.

At last Jack was there, beneath his feet, his right hand reaching out in front of him, his left dragging uselessly behind him.

"Jack?" He waited for a response, unsure if the long journey across the floor had left his friend with any reserves. He was rewarded by the sight of the weary head lifting and the brown eyes fixing him with a steady stare.

"Daniel." It was weak, but it was Jack.

Daniel knew that they didn't have any time to waste. He listened to the harsh, panting breaths coming from the man in front of him, and hated himself for what he was about to do.

"You have to release the chains, Jack." He nodded his head towards the wall. "They're hooked up over there."

Jack turned slightly, taking in the distance to where the thick chain was tethered. He shut his eyes for a moment, and then, without turning back, started heading for his goal.

Reaching the hook was the easy part.

Jack reached the wall, and lay there, and for a minute Daniel was sure he had lost the battle to stay conscious, their thin chance at freedom gone. Then Jack's right hand snaked up and gripped as far up the low chain as it could reach. Daniel held his breath, as the chain slowly began to pull, his body raising slightly, and he realised that there had to be some slack before the chain could be lifted from the hook. A low guttural grunt came from the injured man as the chain slowly loosened. The moment that it came free took Daniel by surprise, so caught up had he been in the sheer act of will power being played out in front of him. The thick links slackened and rushed with a loud rattle through the rings around his wrists, dropping him with stunning violence to the floor. He couldn't prevent a cry of pain from escaping as his deadened arms came crashing down. He lay, his muscles quivering.

Jack!

He scrambled up, ignoring the blood running from his raw wrists. His friend was a shapeless dark huddle against the wall, no longer moving. He moved on feet that felt like bricks on the end of his legs, stumbling across and into the gloom, dropping to his knees and reaching out a hesitant hand.

"Jack?" His questing fingers felt the tremors surging through the arms slick with blood, he heard the weakness in the gasps, and he saw the agony that the other man tried to conceal in his dark eyes. "We need to move."

His words were acknowledged by a dip of the head, the glow of the braziers echoing the redness running in streaks through the silver hair.

There was no need for further words; they both knew that there was no choice. Daniel used the wall to help himself up, then bent and tried to lift Jack to his feet. Jack moaned loudly, making no attempt to help, and finally Daniel had to give up. He didn't want to do it, worried about causing his friend more pain, but he pulled at Jack's uninjured arm, doing the only thing that he could, dragging him across the stone, his goal the dark recess in the wall of the dungeon. He had no idea what was behind it, but he knew that there would be no escape up that long flight of stairs leading to a locked and bolted door. If the worst came to the worst, he would make a stand there in the dark. There was no way that they were playing any more of their evil games with Jack while there was still breath in Daniel's body.

************

Jack knew that there was nothing else that Daniel could do; he just hoped that he'd do it as quickly as possible. He couldn't do anything to help - the long trip across from the table having pushed him to the edge of his endurance, the release of the chain tipping him over it. Now it was taking every scrap of will power that he had to stop himself from giving in to the pain.

The arm that dragged along beneath him kept snagging on the rough stones of the floor, each small pull grinding the bones together, but that was minor compared to the other sensations flowing from places too numerous to count. Somewhere a tiny voice in the back of his throbbing head was telling him that the torture hadn't stopped when he lost consciousness, and that perhaps he should be grateful that he hadn't been aware of what was going on.

The sudden halt startled him, causing him to lift his head at the same time as Daniel lowered his arm gently to the floor. He licked his lips and looked around, finding the light too low to make out anything.

"Daniel?" He hoped that his question was understood, because there was no way that he could summon up the energy to say more. Daniel turned, spreading dark streaks of grime over his face as he rubbed it with one hand.

"There may be another way out here." He began to feel along the dirty wall, this fingers investigating every crack. "Sometimes there was a passage concealed in the dungeon." His words trailed off, and Jack could see that all his concentration was on the task at hand. He gave in to the sensations and shut his eyes, thankful to be still, if only for a short time.

Seconds stretched to minutes. Muttered grumblings came to him, along with the sound of hands rough against stone.

"There should be something here. There must be something here." It was as if Daniel was willing the stone to give up its secrets.

Maybe there wasn't a hidden door. They would have to make a last stand here, hoping that Carter and Teal'c would come charging in to save the day. A hope that was receding as every hour past.

He made a mental inventory of his injuries. The dislocated elbow and shoulder of his left arm were easy - he remembered them, every pull and crack. The hot, already blistering burns on his side above his hip were wounds that hovered on the edge of his memory, although the brand seemed to extend further that he had thought. Then there were his legs - something was wrong there too, what he wasn't sure - the numbness so wide spread that it made it difficult to pinpoint. Both his knees ached, stretched to almost breaking point by the rack.

He paused, his attention caught again by Daniel, a triumphant cry accompanying the rasp of stone on stone.

"Got it!" Jack opened his eyes as his friend bent over him. "Jack! I found a passage. Even if it doesn't lead anywhere, it can hide us until rescue comes."

He held his arm out, wordlessly acknowledging the necessity, and groaned as he was pulled into the dark.

Dark.

"Wait!"

Daniel stopped in surprise, quickly kneeling beside him.

"What is it Jack?"

"Torch." He didn't need to say more. Daniel immediately hurried back into the dungeon, grabbing as many unlit torches as he could carry, bringing them into the concealed doorway and dropping them to the ground. He then turned to remove a lit torch from its holder in the wall.

Jack lay, his eyes shut once more and listened as Daniel bustled around, the sound of objects being moved coming to him from the dungeon, until eventually he heard the door grate shut.

"I'll go see what's further on. Will you be okay?"

"Umm." The words were becoming harder to form, as his body gave in to exhaustion. As Daniel's steps moved away, he let himself drift.

***********

The narrow corridor branched and twisted, running off into the gloom. Dust lay inches thick, disturbed by his feet, and drifting up in slow languid clouds, webs festooned every surface, many legged insects scuttling off when the torchlight hit them. Eventually Daniel found an open area that had room for a man to lie down, and quickly turned back for Jack. He had counted the turns, and was thankful that he had - one false step leaving him bewildered for several minutes before retracing his path, following his footsteps in the dust.

He rounded the corner and came to a halt. He could just make out the Jack's shape curled up on itself, the good arm cradling his chest. As he came closer he saw that Jack's eyelids were half closed, white showing eerily from beneath them. He took a deep breath and moved forward.

This time Jack didn't stir when he knelt. Daniel made no attempt to rouse him, bending, and pulling him by his arm again. He had no choice. He couldn't carry the torch and his friend at the same time, and the darkness was absolute. Dust was swept up by Jack's body, coating the still bleeding wounds in a thick layer, and making Daniel's throat dryer than it already was.

He reached the open area and finally allowed himself to cough, taking off his glasses and rubbing his itching eyes with a tissue from his pocket. He removed his jacket and bundled it up, placing it under the other man's head. Leaving him there, he hurried back, returning with what little supplies he had managed to find in the dungeon - a pot of water that had been boiling over a fire, the torches, wood and coals, and some straw from the floor. Not much, but however dirty the water may prove to be, he was thankful for it.

He piled the straw, making a rough mattress, and moved the still unconscious man on to it. He would have given anything to rest, his energy almost depleted by the events of the day, but he didn't let himself. If he slept, he knew that it would be hours before he woke. He lit a fire, setting the water to boil, and used some to clean his wrists. They had stopped bleeding, so he left them uncovered. Any cloth he had for bandages would be needed by the man lying beside him.

Finally, his preparations complete, he steeled himself for the grizzly task.

**********

Jack woke at the touch of the damp cloth on the back of his legs. He instinctively tried to sit up, the burst of pain from his shoulder when he did so almost causing him to lose consciousness again.

"Jack, stay still." Daniel's voice grounded him, and he forced himself to relax, opening his eyes. He could just make out the younger man's features in the flickering light, his anxious face covered in dust and grime with only the area around his eyes clean.

"Where are we?" He lifted his head and looked around, unable to make out much in the gloom.

"I think that it's some sort of catacombs under the town. I haven't explored very far, the passages seem to go for some distance."

"Any water?" His throat felt like it had been dragged backwards through a pile of dirt.

"A little, but we don't have anything to drink out of." Daniel moved away for a second and then turned back. Jack felt a hand supporting his head and then another at his mouth. He swallowed the small amount of water in the cupped hand, savouring the feeling of the liquid running down his parched throat. All too soon it was gone.

"I'm going to have to clean these wounds, Jack." Daniel picked the cloth up again, holding Jack's right leg in the other hand. There was sharp stabbing pain as the damp material touched his skin. He bit down on his lip.

Daniel glanced up, his face bleak. "Sorry."

Jack licked the blood off his lip, and tried a weak smile. "It's okay, Danny. It has to be done." The numbness was wearing off, sensation returning all over his body with a vengeance. "Be careful, I think my elbow is dislocated." He was surprised by Daniel's snort of laughter.

"Yes, Jack, it's dislocated. I've already put a splint on it. Not much I can do about the shoulder except bind it, but I've managed to stop most of the bleeding from the other wounds. I left the burns, I'll have to reboil the water before I try to clean them." Jack could feel Daniel's hand tremble against his skin. He realised that his left arm was bound to his side, and wondered that he hadn't felt Daniel moving it.

Jack remembered the inventory of injuries he had begun and not managed to complete. He added the original head injury to the list, and still came up short.

"What else did they do to me, Daniel?"

The hand stopped moving for a moment and then resumed. He waited for an answer, but the silence lengthened.

"Daniel?"

"Sorry, Jack, I'm trying to concentrate here." The response came in a matter of fact voice, but the hand still trembled.

Jack was quiet for a minute or two, trying to decide if he really wanted to pursue the answer, but he knew there was no other choice.

"Teal'c and Carter could be captured by now, we know that the gate is being watched, and chances are they can't get home. However it's panned out up there, we can't rely on their help. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with, and part of that is knowing exactly what my injuries are."

"They kept torturing you. After you were unconscious." Daniel's voice was flat and unemotional.

"I sort of guessed that, Danny. What's the damage?" Jack tried to match Daniel's tone, but it was hard to stay calm as each stroke of the cloth brought his leg screaming back to life.

"They put you in a chair." Daniel stopped talking.

"Not sounding bad here, Daniel." Jack tried to prompt him to continue. "I take it that it wasn't to let me have a rest."

"There were spikes all over it, on the leg rests. They pressed you down and left you there."

"Spikes?" Jack was beginning to understand. He couldn't restrain the shudder that went through him.

"I'm trying to clean the wounds, but some are pretty deep, and there's so many. I haven't got enough bandages and there's dust all over them." Daniel's voice was losing its steadiness. "There's a couple that I only just managed to stop bleeding."

"So it's bad?"

The short laugh came again. "You could say that. The wounds extend up the back of your body from your ankles to your thighs. You know, I'm sure that I've seen a chair like that in the Vatican Museum. It didn't really register with me just how diabolical it could be."

So he wasn't going to be walking anywhere any time soon. That made things much more difficult. His vision blurred again as a wave of pain swept him up again, and he realised that he had to get an answer soon, because he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Anything else I should know, Daniel?" After all, it couldn't get much worse, could it?

**********

Daniel wished that Jack would stop asking.

The images flashed through his mind as he spoke, images that no one should have to remember. He tried to concentrate on the task of cleaning the deep wounds on his friend's body, only pausing when he reached the bandages already sodden with blood that wrapped around his chest. He didn't know if he should be concerned or grateful that Jack seemed unaware they were even there, the horrific gouges left by the metal claw frightening in their severity, one deep enough to expose rib bone. They had tied him back up for that, ignoring his dislocated and bleeding limbs. The torture hadn't lasted long, only one sweep of the wicked instrument, but it had been devastating, only Jack's continued state of unconsciousness causing the Inquisitor to reluctantly stop.

He knew that Jack was waiting for an answer. He could hear the other man's voice weakening, and was surprised that he had lasted as long as he had. He opened his mouth to speak and suddenly felt the unwelcome sensation of his stomach once again rebelling. He dropped the cloth and lurched a few paces sideways, before emptying his already cavernous stomach of the little water he had allowed himself. His head spun, the headache present since he had woken in the dungeon suddenly becoming unbearable.

As he slumped to the floor, the last thing that he heard was Jack's voice, calling to him.

Part 3

The silence was frightening. Jack lay, the weak light from the torch barely illuminating a few feet of the area around him. He strained to hear, to understand what had happened. The sound of Daniel stumbling to one side and vomiting had roused him as he was about to finally give in to the utter weariness and pain. He had waited for a second, and then hearing nothing from his friend, called out into the dark.

"Daniel?" He waited again - hearing no sound at all. "Daniel!"

Oh crap! Nothing. He tried to see into the gloom, but could make out only shadows. What the hell had just happened?

Then it came to him - Daniel had been injured as well. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting. Who knew how long Daniel had been looking after him, while he just lay there? Hours?

He had to get to him, make sure that he was okay, get him back into the light.

Look after him.

He knew that his dislocated shoulder would be a problem - and that was an understatement - but Daniel had strapped it to his side. If he was careful not to roll on it, he should be able to make it the few steps he needed to reach his friend. He just needed to get his legs under him.

Holding the pain firmly in, he pushed himself onto his chest.

The agony flared and consumed him, taking everything else with it.

Jack whimpered, unable to even cry out.

The emptiness opened up and pulled him in.

***********

Untended, the fire burnt down and spluttered out, leaving the two men alone in the dark.

***********

Major Carter pulled her binoculars from her eyes and sighed. The gate was still heavily guarded; there was no way that they could get past the waiting men. A rustle behind her brought her spinning around, weapon at the ready.

"It is I, Major Carter." Teal'c emerged from the bushes, and sank to the ground beside her. "I was unable to find any sign of Colonel O'Neill or Daniel Jackson."

"So it's as we suspected, they didn't leave the town." Sam rubbed her eyes wearily. They had been cut off from the town by several groups of men, all obviously hunting for them. It had only been the superior skills of the Jaffa that had prevented them from being captured before now. They had done the only sensible thing, headed for the gate, hoping to get reinforcements.

That plan had been short lived.

So here they were, holed up in a small ravine, within sight of the gate. Teal'c had gone back, searching once more for any sign that the others had left the town, but it was becoming more clear that whatever had happened had occurred while they had been out of sight.

"We should have gone in as soon as the Colonel and Daniel disappeared." Sam berated herself for what she saw as her mistake.

"That action would have achieved nothing except our capture. It is obvious that they were expected and a trap set. We have been fortunate to have avoided the search parties."

Dusk was settling over the scene, but the guards around the gate showed no sign of lessening their vigilance. Unless something changed in the near future, they could only wait. They were due to return to Earth in thirty-six hours. Hopefully they were close enough to contact the SGC by radio, via the MALP, and able to request that the General send backup.

She just hoped that the Colonel and Daniel could wait that long.

************

He woke gradually, his whole body one solid mass of pain. He could feel the sticky, familiar awareness of blood under him, the sharp metallic smell harsh in the air. His chest burned and throbbed. He touched it with his good hand, gently probing the bandages.

This was something that Daniel had left out when he asked for a report on his injuries. He wondered what exactly those sadistic bastards had done to him. Whatever it was, he would have to try and ignore it, at least until he found Daniel.

He listened for a moment, trying to penetrate the blackness with his ears, if not his eyes. There! The soft sound of a slightly blocked nose. Thank god for Daniel's allergies.

Jack brought his knees up, and using one hand, pushed himself off the ground. He staggered to his feet, his head spinning, before taking a tentative step in the direction of the sounds, and promptly falling over something in the dark.

The long trip back down to the ground ended with him on his knees once more, pain flaring again. This time he decided to crawl, one handed.

He pushed aside the pile of wood that had been his downfall, and groped his way cautiously over the dusty floor. After a few feet he stopped, and reached out, feeling in front of him. The breathing was loud, and sure enough, his hand touched the familiar material of Air Force BDUs.

"Daniel." The heavy breathing didn't miss a beat, which was somewhat reassuring. He sat back, his knees screaming protest, and felt until he found the other man's face, giving it a hard pat.

"Come on Daniel. Wake up." He began to get a bit desperate, knowing that he couldn't keep this level of awareness up for much longer. Despite the darkness, lights were beginning to dance in front of his eyes, and closing them didn't seem to help at all. He could feel the slow trickle of wetness running down his chest and he had that light headed feeling that he recognised as weakness from loss of blood.

He needed to make Daniel wake up now!

He moved his hand around to the back of Daniel's head, his long fingers searching for any sign of injury. There it was. A large raised lump, obviously caused by the blow from the club.

Hell! Concussion.

Daniel shouldn't be sleeping. You shouldn't sleep with a head injury. He should wake up. Jack lowered his hand and gave him a gentle shake.

"Danny, I really need you to wake up now." Still no reaction. He made to edge closer towards the sleeping man when his right knee suddenly gave out, throwing him in a heap.

"Shit!" Jack rocked backwards and forwards uncaring that the motion made the pain worse. One part of him cringed as the smell of vomit assailed his nostrils, recoiling from the wet patch next to Daniel, the other part of him really didn't care - he had much more urgent things to worry about. Like staying conscious.

His over tired brain had suddenly put two and two together and come up with about fifteen reasons why he couldn't join his friend in sleep. He had a head injury as well. That fact had been submerged in amongst everything else. He had to find the torches he remembered Daniel bringing in here with them, light one, see how bad the other man's injuries were. He had to stop the bleeding he knew had begun again, the main source being the wounds on his legs. He had to see exactly what was wrong with his chest. He had to find some water before his mouth dried up completely. He had to find a way out of here.

Above all he had to stay awake.

His left shoulder muscles chose that moment to spasm, causing him to cry out in the silence.

Yep! That helped - no problem not going to sleep now.

Jack sat in the dark and shivered.

**********

Daniel groaned his way to wakefulness.

"I really wish that you wouldn't do that."

The strained voice came from somewhere behind him and off to the right.

"Do what, Jack?" He opened his eyes, squinting with the sudden onslaught of light.

"That moaning sound."

Daniel held his hand in front of his eyes and moaned, his head pounding.

"Oh god! Will you quit that!"

"Sorry. Can't help it. Tell this headache to go away and I'll stop." He kept his eyes shut.

"Go away headache." The answer held a small echo of Jack's normal sarcasm.

Daniel twisted towards the voice. "Brilliant, Jack. Except it didn't work." He opened his lids a tiny bit, bracing himself for the expected pain.

Jack sat in front of him, his back against the rough wall of rock. He looked like a vision from Hell.

"Shit, Jack! Oh shit!" Daniel pushed himself to his feet, and reached the wall within seconds. "Shit!"

The blood streaked man smiled slightly. "You know, Daniel, for a linguist you sure have a limited vocabulary."

Daniel grabbed the shaking hand that was held out to him. He could feel the heat pulsing from the other man, see the drawn face and bloodshot eyes. He shook his head and squeezed the hand gently, receiving an even weaker one in return.

"Shit, Jack."

"We've been through this already, Daniel. Can we move on now?" Jack's words ended in a painful cough, half swallowed before it was allowed to escape. He wrenched his hand from Daniel's grip and held it to his side, shutting his eyes. "Are you up to getting me a drink of water?" He gestured towards the pot, near at hand.

Daniel looked around, searching for anything that he could use as a cup. He vaguely remembered giving Jack water in his hand before, but that was too wasteful, and the injured man wouldn't be able to drink enough.

"There's one of your sample bags over near the water. I used that."

Daniel found the small plastic bag beside the pot. He dusted it of as best he could and dipped it into the liquid, noticing how low the level was. They would have to be very careful not to waste any, but right now Jack needed a drink. He sealed the top of the bag and made his way back to the waiting man, kneeling beside him. He found that his headache, although severe, could be ignored, worry for his friend taking all his attention.

He held the limp plastic up to Jack's mouth, letting the water escape through a small gap he opened at the top, and watched as it was eagerly drunk. He waited until it was empty before speaking.

"How long was I out?" He was reassured by the fact there didn't seem to be many torches used. It can't have been too long. The answer surprised him.

"I'm not sure - about six hours by my estimate."

Daniel frowned. "That long?" He glanced over at the pile of torches again.

"Well, like I said - I'm not sure. I wasn't around for a lot of it myself."

Daniel helped Jack to lie down, supporting him as much as he could to protect his misshapen shoulder and elbow. Despite his care, Jack cringed as his body reached the floor, and Daniel could see that his face was pale in the half-light.

He used his voice as a distraction as he began to examine the wounds on Jack's legs.

"What do you mean, you weren't around?" He could see that several of the deeper holes had bled again, but they appeared to have already stopped. He repositioned the bandages as best he could.

Jack gasped, his right hand clenching. "I logged out of here about the same time you did. Woke up in the dark." His fist pounded on the stone floor.

Daniel paused for a moment, thinking. "How did you light the torch again?" He finished examining the legs, noting that both knees were badly swollen. He looked up into the sweaty face of his friend, then let his gaze track down to the bandages around his chest, noting the fresh blood. He began to pull the cloth from the injury.

"I found a lighter in your pants pocket, along with the plastic bags." Jack swallowed loudly, a cough choked off in a harsh ragged almost sob. "I don't even want to know what you intended to do with them."

"So you were groping me in the dark, Colonel O'Neill? Should I be worried?" The three long gashes, red and inflamed, shone against the pallid skin.

"In your dreams, Doctor Jackson. In your dreams." The smile turned into a grimace, and Daniel found his hand grabbed once again, this time in a grip of steel.

"Don't!" Jack shook his head from side to side, his eyes moist. "Just leave it. Don't touch it."

"I have to, Jack. I have to clean it." Daniel tried to pull his hand away, surprised at the strength of Jack's hold.

"No you don't. We both know that it's already infected, so what's the point. Just leave it." Jack's lips lifted in a parody of a smile. "The Doc can fix it when we get home."

Daniel saw the pain in his friend's face and nodded. "At least let me rebandage it. Stop any more of this dust getting in." He waited for a reply.

Jack shut his eyes for a moment, blinking, then nodded once. "Okay, but do it quick." He lowered his head back to the folded jacket and released Daniel's hand.

Daniel took his shirt off, then pulled his t-shirt over his head, wincing as it touched a tender spot. He needed more bandages, and there was nothing else to use. The air where they were was stuffy and close, he certainly didn't need the T-shirt for warmth. He put his shirt back on, buttoning it up, and started ripping the black material into strips. They weren't clean or hygienic, but they were better than the pile of blood soaked bandages he had discarded on the floor, and he couldn't afford to use any of their precious dwindling water to wash them.

It wasn't long before he turned back to Jack, ready to begin. Jack lay with his eyes closed, his face set in an unemotional mask. Daniel slid the first strip of cloth behind his back, trying to avoid moving him too much, and brought it around, tying it off above the shoulder opposite the dislocation. He had to avoid the injured arm, making the whole process extremely awkward, and he fumbled slightly, trying to find the best position to do the job. He could hear Jack's breathing alter, but he refused to let himself look up. He had to get the job done, regardless of the cost.

His resolve slipped at the same time as his hand did, sticky and slick with blood. Jack arched his back and began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Oh god! Sorry!" Daniel's voice shook as he looked up, just in time to see his friend's teeth release their grip on his lip before his whole body relaxed into unconsciousness, finally succumbing to the pain.

The only thought Daniel allowed himself was one of thanks. He finished the job as quickly as possible, and took the opportunity to move Jack back on to the bed of straw.

Daniel watched the other man of a while, making sure his breathing was even. When he was satisfied that there was no more he could do, he took a small drink of water before relighting the fire. He sat for a while, thinking over their options.

It didn't seem that their captors had knowledge of these passages, there had been no sounds of searching. But there had been no sounds of rescue either. It looked like they were going to have to get themselves out of this mess, and judging by Jack's deteriorating condition, the sooner, the better. Their dwindling water supply was also a factor that had to be considered.

He stood. The first task was to see if there was a way out of here. For all he knew, there could be a door to the outside just around the corner. His decision made, he lit one of their reserve of torches. Jack hadn't stirred. Daniel knelt next to him and wiped off the sweat that beaded on his forehead.

Yes, he had to find a way out of here.

Picking up two extra torches, Daniel headed up the passage. At the first branch he marked the wall by scraping a line at waist height, using a sharp rock, resting his hand there for a moment as a wave of dizziness swept over him. It was a reminder that Jack wasn't the only one hurt. He would have given anything to just sit back and let someone else take charge, but that wasn't going to happen. He pushed off the wall and watched the torch flame for a minute. There seemed to be a slight movement of air in the right hand fork, so he took that one, walking as quickly as he could. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. He didn't want to leave Jack for too long.

The torchlight flickered over the stone, illuminating the grey wall and showing the undisturbed dust of years. Daniel walked on into the silence.

**********

He felt hot and uncomfortable. And thirsty. Thirsty was at the top of the list. He cleared his throat, feeling his tongue rasp on the roof of his mouth. He reached over, groping for the call button, but couldn't find it, his hand hitting a rough surface instead of the softness of the mattress.

His head felt like it was about to break out the top of his skull using a pneumatic drill.

He stayed as still as possible, hoping that it would help to diminish the pounding, and tried to remember what had happened. His body hurt in so many unbelievable ways it rivalled that time in the desert of Iran for sheer agony.

Daniel had been here.

He lifted his head, trying to see past the light and into the gloom.

They had the lights down low for some reason. Must be night.

Daniel was probably working in his office. He should go find him, tell him about Carter and Teal'c. Tell him that they were lost.

He twisted around and finally managed to get to his feet, swaying on the spot of several minutes.

He really needed to get that drink of water.

And find Daniel.

Jack took a deep breath, pushed down the pain, and stumbled off into the dark.

Part 4

Something had changed. The search had intensified, causing Sam and Teal'c to move location several times, staying just ahead of the hunters. They had managed to remain close to the gate, knowing that their only hope was to contact the SGC. As their expected report in passed and time ticked on, they edged closer to the circle, careful to stay out of sight.

The sound of the gate activating had Sam reaching for her radio. She held her fingers up, crossing them, and smiled at her companion's raised eyebrow.

"SG-1 report." General Hammond's clear voice sounded from the radio.

"It's Major Carter, sir. Teal'c and I are concealed near the gate. Colonel O'Neill and Daniel have been captured and are being held in the town. The gate is heavily guarded. We need backup, General."

"Understood, Major." The reply came immediately. "How large is the force at the gate?"

"Approximately twenty-five men, armed with knives and cross-bows."

"Is your position secure, Major?" They could see the MALP camera turn, the General obviously trying to get a better idea of the situation.

Sam exchanged glances with Teal'c, getting a nod of agreement, before answering. "Yes, sir. For the moment, but we may have to relocate without warning."

"I will send SG-2 and SG-10 through as soon as they are geared up."

"Thank you, sir." Sam concluded the transmission, glad that they would soon have enough help to permit them to search for the Colonel and Daniel. It had been hours since they had last seen their teammates and anything could have happened in that time. For a second, her heart sank, then she gave herself a mental shake - it was no help to think the worst.

They were probably sitting comfortably in a cell somewhere, waiting to be rescued.

They weren't being chased all over the countryside.

At least she hoped so.

**********

The darkness was oppressive, pushing in around him, and it made the torch flame seem small and insignificant. The passages twisted, turned, branched, forked, and almost seemed to mutate as he watched. Daniel felt as if he had been walking for hours, but the frequent glances at his watch reassured him that it had only been a relatively short time.

His first torch was beginning to burn down, so he lit a second one. When that was half way down he would turn back. Hopefully by then he would have found something a little more promising, perhaps even an exit to the outside.

Daniel wandered on, his hand extended, tracing the rough surface of the wall. His steps faltered occasionally, as the dizziness came and went. He rubbed the back of his head with the other hand. The lump still felt as big as an ostrich egg to his probing fingers.

His headache was worse, if anything, despite the amount of time that had gone by since he woke. His feet were starting to drag, their weight leaden.

Maybe it was time to be getting back.

He looked at his watch, expecting only minutes to have passed.

Christ! How had that happened? That couldn't be right.

One glance at his torch confirmed his suspicions. It was almost burnt out. He lit the final torch with trembling hands. Somehow he had drifted, allowing much too much time to pass. He would be lucky if he made it back before the torch went out.

Daniel turned back, retracing his steps with as much speed as he could muster. He didn't want to be lost in the dark, even imagining it had him scared. Anyone lost in these tunnels could be lost forever, doomed by darkness and confusion.

He had to get back to Jack.

*********

It was easier to walk if he shut his eyes and let himself feel his way along the corridor. There didn't appear to be any one else here. No one had responded to his calls.

At least he thought he had called.

Who was he calling?

That's right - Daniel. Daniel was looking for him. Or was he looking for Daniel? He couldn't have gone far, so why didn't he answer?

Maybe he should ask for help. Teal'c and Carter would help. He should go find them first.

Or the Doc. The Doc might be good. There was something not right, something he should tell the Doc about.

Jack leant against the wall, panting. One part of his mind was screaming for him to stop - telling him to go back before it was too late. The other part was happy to just go with the flow, ignoring his body's protests. Both parts knew he needed help urgently. They just didn't agree on the best method of obtaining it.

So he stopped like a run down toy, and slumped against the wall, his head bowed, eyes closed. Slowly he slid down until he was sitting on the dirt encrusted rock floor.

Daniel would just have to find himself for a change.

**********

Major Ferretti pushed past the medic, his gaze searching for Sam Carter. He had lost sight of her in the confusion of the last few minutes.

"Sir, I need to check your injury." The young lieutenant was indignantly trying to stop him from going anywhere, already pulling at his bleeding arm.

Ferretti shook him off once more. "It's just a scratch. You can stick a bandaid on it later." He caught sight of his quarry. There was Sam, talking to Major Hartfell. He strode quickly over to them, noting that they both seemed to have got away with only slight scratches in the battle at the gate.

"Lou." Sam acknowledged him with a worried smile. "You okay?"

"Sure. Not a problem. Which is more than I can say for Stephens." The three officers looked over at the man on the stretcher, and watched as it was carried back through the gate. "He should be alright, once the Doc gets her hands on him." He hated seeing one of his team hurt, it may be part of the job, but it was a part that he could never get used to. He wanted to go back with Stephens, check that he really would be okay, make sure that everything possible was done for him. He knew it would be, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

He turned away as the gate shut.

He had a job to do.

They agreed that the first order of business was to interrogate the prisoners and see if any of them knew where Jack and Daniel were being held. There were twenty survivors of the skirmish, most with varying degrees of injury. They had fought fiercely, refusing to surrender even when it was obvious they had been defeated. They had finally been subdued by zatfire.

Teal'c had been guarding the group and watching them closely. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on them as the three majors approached.

"I believe I should assist in any questioning." He raised an eyebrow at one of the prisoners and Lou saw the man visibly blanch.

Very interesting.

They began by picking the obvious leader out of the group. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in nondescript brown trousers and shirt, with a sharp pointed chin and small eyes. He had been the last zatted, fighting furiously until overcome. Now he stared at them defiantly as they pulled him forward.

Ferretti began with the question that was on all their minds. "You took two of our men, Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson. Where are they?"

The reply came much easier than they expected. The man's face fell into a scowl. "You know full well where your master is, but be sure of this - he will be found and he will repent."

The listening group exchanged puzzled frowns. Teal'c moved to the front, his normally impassive features finally showing the frustration of the last two days.

"Speak plainly. Where is Colonel O'Neill?"

"I will not speak to your demon!" He reared back, his eyes averted.

Demon? Lou watched the emotions flitter across the man's face - defiance, worry, anger - but the predominant one was terror. Absolute terror. This was not just a simple case of fear of the unknown. There was also something else in the man's eyes, something that spoke of fanaticism. He looked at his clothes, his shoes, his appearance, and he suddenly latched onto the rough molded form of a cross hanging from a simple chain around the man's neck.

Could it be?

Could it really?

He raised a hand to his own chest feeling the shape of his own crucifix through his clothing. Perhaps he could play a hunch. He moved up to the man, and whispered in his ear, as if making sure that the others couldn't hear.

"I will order the demon removed from your sight, but he will be angry." Lou reached down and pulled out the small crucifix he always wore. The other man raised astonished eyes to his. "Give me some information. I will tell them that you are cooperating." He watched a calculating look grow in the other's eyes and knew that he had made the right move.

"Why are you with them?" Suspicion was still evident in the voice.

Lou bent closer before answering. "I will explain later." He raised the crucifix to his lips. "But God watches over us, of that we can be certain."

"Praise God! We saw them come from the Devil's Circle and recognized that one" he nodded towards Teal'c, "as a demon. He obeyed the man you call Colonel, as did his servant and the witch. The Pater planned to trap them in the town, but the demon and witch escaped."

Lou was finding it very difficult to stay calm. He grabbed the other's arm, pulling him further aside and gestured to the others to stay back. Sam nodded, the circles under her eyes standing out in her too pale face, before moving away to sit down nearby.

"What did the Pater do to the Colonel and his servant?"

His heart sank as the lips turned up with a satisfied smile. "He begged the master to repent, and when he refused, the Pater used the power of the Lord to discipline him. The Pater is experienced in these matters. Fully thirty souls have been saved from Satan since the Pater took up his post here as Inquisitor."

The cold feeling griped Lou's heart.

Inquisitor.

**********

Teal'c did not allow any emotion to show. Despite the distance, he could clearly hear the prisoner's words as he spoke to Major Ferretti, and he was becoming more and more concerned. He was not sure of the meaning of `inquisitor' but one look at the Major's pale face, and he knew with certainty that it did not bode well for his teammates.

Given his time again, there were many things that he would do differently.

He should have attempted to enter the town after dark. He may have been able to find them, the town was not that large. He should have rescued them. Instead he had run and hidden.

He stayed where he was, standing silent and still. Playing a part. But inside he was in turmoil. He needed to be doing something.

He allowed himself to glance over to where Major Carter was now sitting. She was still watching Major Ferretti's conversation like a hawk, her tired eyes flicking between the two men. The scratches on her face and arms were testimony to their struggle to elude the hunting parties. She had kept up with him the whole time, never once admitting to fatigue. Never allowing pain or despair to sway her from their goal.

And suddenly he knew he had made the right decision.

That he had done the right thing, staying with her.

Together they were stronger. Together they would find their missing teammates.

They had to.

He owed O'Neill his life many times over.

Teal'c kept his eyes on the prisoner, pinning him with his stare.

**********

Daniel stumbled, exhausted, towards the fire, the last torch barely flickering. He had been terrified the light would die leaving him to wander around in the dark, lost. It hadn't been one of the more pleasant moments in his fairly eventful life, but finally he had made it back.

He could relax now.

But first he had to check on Jack.

His tired mind had registered that something was wrong from the moment he entered the room, but it took a few seconds for it to properly sink in.

Jack.

The room was empty, with no sign at all of his friend.

Jack couldn't have gone anywhere without help, he was in no condition to be able to sit up, let alone walk. Someone must have found him.

Pater Yleek. The Inquisitor.

Daniel grabbed a new torch and began to run down the passage towards the concealed doorway into the dungeon.

He had to stop them. They couldn't take Jack again.

They couldn't.

**********

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.

Part 5

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.

Part 6

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.

Part 7

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.

The End

Jackfic Fiction Archive Story

Inquisition.

by Flatkatsi