TITLE : The Centre of Lies
AUTHOR : KD3 aka KRISS DREMAK
EMAIL : kdthree@core.com
STATUS : finished in four chapters
CATEGORY : ANGST/Crossover
WARNING : Rough language / torture
PAIRING : Jack and Janet!
SEASON : AU but probably before 5
CONTENT
LEVEL : 13+
(nc17 Separated for specific lists or archives
Nc-17 portion available on request)
SPOILERS : Broca Divide, Tangent; Need and A Matter of Time
Primal
Yearnings (my original au for BD)
SUMMARY : A video tape arrives and threatens sanity
All
inspired from the line:
"I've done the strapped to a bed drugged
thing before."
ARCHIVED
:
WWOMB/SG1H/C
Zone, Jack/Janet list
and any others who
would like
FILE SIZE : 309kb in Word ( plain
text available)
Dedication : To Brandon and
Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other
characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE. The characters mentioned in this story are
the property of and Gekko Film Corp. The SG-1 together with the names, titles
and back story are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,
Gekko Film Corp., Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I
Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This Fanfic is not intended as an
infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment.
All other characters, the story idea and the
story itself are the sole property of the author.
(c) 2004 KD³ Tales from the Gate Kristine "Kriss" Dremak 2004
CHAPTER ONE
Janet Fraiser pulled her shoulder length brownish
red hair back into a soft ponytail at the nape of her neck and prepared for
another day as CMO of Stargate command. Things could never be considered routine when
you had to watch fine men and women walk into an active wormhole and wait for
their return. How many had not come
back, and how many had come back broken, bleeding and even dying. The biggest offender was the Second in
Command of the SGC, Commanding officer of the flagship team, SG1, and the man
who had recently become her lover, Colonel Jack O'Neill.
After the Broca Divide dark side light side virus
incident, their subsequent kidnapping, the Colonel's re-infection by parties
unknown, and their daring escape; they
had grown closer and the inevitable happened.
Jack had stopped by one night to talk, to see how Cassie, her recently
adopted alien daughter, was doing, and one kiss of affection lead to a night of
urgent lovemaking. To her surprise, Jack
had professed a deep affection for her since the incident yet both were not
ready to use the word love, loving or being in a state of love.
For now they would keep the relationship a close
guarded secret. It would not do to let
it seep over into their military world, save for an occasional wink or a gentle
touch that appeared innocent enough.
Their relationship needs were not to be hurried but were going to be
given time to open slowly, now that the clumsy hurtle of sex had been
jumped. With that out of the way, they
could build a mutual friendship into love.
Janet walked into her infirmary to find her two
best nurses staring at an exam table covered in file boxes, filed to the
brim.
"What in the heck is all this?" She planted herself in front of a box and
looked at the two nurses.
"The Pentagon released more information on
the "Gate" from the experiments in the 40's. Most of this stuff is old medical
records. For once there is no real inventory." Lt. Denise Kenny said looking at the
manifest. "Four boxes, Dr. Jackson
got five." She added as if that was
going to make them feel lucky.
"Get an airman to do the inventory, then we
can decide from the list what we need or find a place to conveniently lose this
stuff." Janet crinkled her nose
noting the smell of moldy paper.
"Ah, Dr. Fraiser, I think you may want to
look at this right now." The voice
was anxious and came from Lt. Nicole Tierney, who was holding up a rather
recent looking file, which was wrapped around an older thicker file. Her eyes were wide as she handed it to
Fraiser.
The file was not that old and was
Medical File/ Psychiatric report
Subject: O'Neill, Jonathan J., Captain
The date was from the very early 1980's.
"Must be a
mistake. Let me check it
out. Who's off world?" She asked casually but a cold curdled feeling
was staring in her guts.
"SG 3, 7, 9, and SG1 are due back
today." Denise announced looking
through the other box.
Janet already knew Jack was due back today. She had managed to be standing behind General
Hammond when they had left. Jack had
turned and given
"Fine," she was preoccupied now as she
opened the file. "I'll be in my
office. If any Goa'uld attacks, come get
me." A large mug of coffee was
poured, sweetened, and carried to her private office.
There was a note inside the folder and a
DVD.
Original videotape degraded image
transferred.
Well, there was one thing she could do. The TV/DVD/VCR combo in her office was turned
on and the shiny disk was placed in the drawer.
As it slid closed she began to read.
There was the usual medical military preamble which provided physicians,
facilities, and participants. Janet
skimmed down to the main body of the report.
Subject: O'Neill, Jonathon, J. Captain Air Force, currently
assigned to Special Operations was found unconscious and the victim of torture
when he failed to report after a thirty day leave. His condition was serious. The tox screens had found traces of multiple
psychotropic drugs and Dilaudid, synthetic heroin, in his system. It appears the Captain had been kidnapped and
held for nearly the entirety of his leave by parties unknown.
The injuries to his wrists, ankles, and neck are similar to
those made when under restraint. They
are additional contusions and laceration consistent with both offense and
defense wounds. It seems our good
Captain did put up a struggle. Our main
concern was the obvious head injury and resulting concussion.
Janet took a sip of coffee to try and ease the tightness that
was beginning to strangle her. What the
hell had happened to Jack? She continued
on.
The Captain was unconscious for two days while he was treated
for his wounds and internal injuries.
Upon regaining consciousness, he could not remember, initially, what had
transpired during those thirty days. As his recovery continued, the Captain began
to regain his memory and was able to provide a detailed description of the
building he was held in but not how he got there. He explained the last thing he had remembered
was arriving at his off base apartment and was packing to visit his
finance'. It was to have been a surprise
visit. The Captain has no recollection
of how he escaped.
All tests that were run on the Captain proved he was indeed
telling the truth. He remembered being
strapped down and repeatedly injected while he was told to admit to being someone
else. He had no idea who
"Those people" were. He could not give them what they wanted. They had the wrong man.
This video tape was found on the Captain's person. The quality is bad but it does completely
support his statements. The original video
tape has been handed over to the Office of Special Investigation. Due to the Captain's position with Special
Operation he was run through multiple psyche tests and evaluations before he
was deemed to be recovered both physically and mentally.
The authorities were not called in due to the nature of the
Captain's assignments and the delicacy of the matter. It would not due to embarrass the Air Force
and it was determined that this case had just been an aberration and in no way
was anything other than a case of mistaken identity. The heroic levels and the endurance of the
Captain were impressive and he has been moved to a more select team. It is very apparent that all attempts of mind
control were ineffective on the young man.
O'Neill has recovered fully and has a rather flippant irreverent humor
that is both genuine and perhaps a shield from pity and or concern which he
finds a weakness to accept.
He is being placed on a list of young officers to watch for
particularly hazardous missions. Captain
O'Neill will either end up a dead hero
or an old General with a chest full of medals.
The signature was of the evaluation medical officer, a
Colonel J. Michael Brooks.
The rest of the materials were the medical chart
and portions of interrogations of the OSI officers. There was also a transcript
Her eyes burned with acid tears of outrage but
she forced herself to
turn the DVD player
on.
The film was black and white, the quality poor
and taken from an angle where it was obvious that the camera was high on a
wall. The room was concrete block
constructions, the only furniture, a table with tape recorder and microphone,
and a medical bed. The sole occupant an
unconscious young man, striped to his waist secured at wrists, ankles, across
his naked chest with thick leather straps.
The
Janet felt her hands covering her mouth. There was no mistaking the prisoner to be
anyone but Jack; young, maybe twenty years younger, but still Jack. One hand went to touch the screen.
A man in silhouette
entered the room and sat down at the table his back to the camera but he was
able to see the young man.
"Shall we start again, John?" The man asked in a soft European accent, one
that seemed not easily defined. The
voice was firm yet there was a gentle concern to it.
"My name is O'Neill, Jonathon J.
"John, you are a 'Pretender'. You created this personality after you left
the Centre. You were too young. You should not have been out on your
own."
"Wrong, I graduated high school and enlisted. You stupid son of a bitch, I went to
"We can keep this going forever, John. You know I can only hold off the others for a
short time. Their methods are more
destructive than mine. You only need to
admit it, John, and we will take you back into the fold." The voice continued slowly with gentle persuasion.
"I'm a Captain in the Air Force. I don't know who you think I am." Jack's voice hissed. "You are so very wrong."
"John, please do not insult my intelligence with your training and I.Q. You are smarter than a handful of M I T
students put together. Do not think you
can fool us... "
"Smart? Have you
got the wrong boy?" Jack actually
laughed but it turned into a coughing jag, the pain clear from shattered ribs
and bruised lungs.
The man stood up and reached into the pocket of his coat and
moved to Jack's side. In the camera,
there was a flash of silver. Then the
right hand was held up. A syringe was
seen, a finger tapped against the glass to clear the air bubbles and a short
spurt.
Jack's body convulsed and Janet knew she was watching him
being injected again.
"The combination of drugs is a special mix. Actually, you should know you helped to
perfect this cocktail. Some psychotropic
drugs with Dilaudid, synthetic heroin for the addiction, Sodium Amytal as the
truth serum and, as you had said, a twist of LSD. The interesting thing when used in the right
combinations, they cause the patient pain as long as the subject resists. John, I grow tired of this game and watching
you suffer. Admit who you are and you
can be taken care of again. No more
pain."
"Screw you!"
Jack half screamed as his body continued to spasm, his muffled gasps of
pain vocalized in jagged gasps and muted sobs as he thrashed. Blood began to seep down his left wrist as he
struggled.
Janet felt the hot tears crest her lower eyelids and cascade through
thick lashes down her face. She quickly
wiped them away with the knuckle of her right index finger. She had lost her professional attachment;
there was no reason to get so worked up this all happened years ago.
The Klaxon went off and the alarm lights began to
flash red. She was out of her office and
into the infirmary.
"SG1 is back early, reports from the control
room says they may have injuries."
Denise looked up at Janet while she was preparing her emergency code
equipment.
What color was left drained which left Janet's
face nearly as white as her lab coat.
She suppressed the urge run to the gate room. It was impossible to wait but fate was kind and
SG1 trooped into her infirmary like children who had been caught playing with
matches.
"Janet," Sam acknowledged walking in
preparing for the post mission physical by letting herself be guided to an exam
table. Teal'c entered next, bowed his
head and frowned at the nurse. Daniel followed
next and, as he arched his eyebrows looked over his shoulder. Jack was coming in last, holding his left arm
up against his chest. The look on his
face was resigned amusement hiding his pain.
"Jack fell." Daniel announced in a smug little boy way,as he jumped up onto the exam
table.
"With me,
now!" Janet pointed at the
Colonel and then towards curtain number four. The tone of her voice that of an angry
mother. She pushed Jack onto the table
and pulled the curtain around them. With
a firm but gentle hand, she took his left hand and helped him extend it out.
"Shoulder? Wrist? Elbow?" She asked trying not to make eye contact.
"Wrist." Jack commented looking at her, seeing the
darkness in her face.
Janet began to palpitate
the wrist gently. She gasped
audibly. How had she missed it? At the dorsum of his wrist just above the
"Doc?" Jack asked in a whisper as he felt her fingertips
as they tracked over
the scar. He had to prepare a lie. He'd blame it on
Janet looked up at him another tear in her milk
chocolate eyes. "X-ray, but I think
it's just a strain." Her words were
clipped as she tried to conceal her irritation in front of the assembled but
her eyes bore into Jack, questioning him.
He'd seen that face before when she searched his after he'd been
infected and told her to experiment on him.
"My office, please, after ...."
She walked away, searching for one of her nurses, each step she regained
her control. "Take him to x-ray,
splint it, or wrap it. Whatever is necessary. I'll be in
my office. Get Warner to finish the
exams. "
"What was all that about?" Sam wondered out loud, following Janet as she
stalked out of the infirmary and into the corridor. The sound of her heels
tapping out in an angry staccato.
Jack followed the nurse to x-ray feeling a black
shadow from his past looming over his shoulder and the one glimmer of light in
his life dimming with Janet's unexplained ire.
Janet returned to her office. As much as she did not want to continue
watching the disc she
had to find out more. She pressed play
on the remote.
"John, the drugs are coming to their full effect on
you. The sodium Amytal will make you
answer. You need only relax. Remember all the time you have spent at the
Centre, how we raised you, provided you with all that you needed to stimulate
your intelligence. Because of you, there have been more chosen. Yes, more boys; a special few who are as talented as you,
perhaps even smarter. "
"Don't know what you are talking about O'Neill Jonathan,
J. Captain, born in
Janet was riveted to the screen. The picture changed and Jack was being
dragged back into the room. His hands
were bound in front of him with thick leather straps and his face was covered
in blood. He collapsed in a corner.
"John, see what you have let them do to you? It has been fifteen days now,
John." The man in the shadows
continued. "You need the injection. I can make the pain go away."
"It's Jack, you rat bastard." Jack somehow managed to say through his
busted swollen lips. Suddenly he
clutched at his stomach and began to heave.
The contents seem only to be blood and bile. "Jack O'Neill, Captain..." Jack began to shiver, he was going through
withdrawal.
"John, tell me how you escaped? How did you get to
"Stork brought me....
Mom did Dad; you know, dated, did it in the back seat and had to get
married, crazy kids..." Spasms and
another round of vomiting curtailed Jack's attempt at sarcasm.
"Withhold the drugs." A new voice stated gruffly.
"John, they want me to not give you the drugs that will
make you feel better. Why are you doing
this to yourself? Don't you remember all
of our conversations? The scenarios we
ran? The problems you were able to
solve?"
"Fuck you."
It was a low deadly threat from brown eyes that suddenly glowed with
black hate directed with lucid concentration.
"Enough for now, John, I will be back I will leave you
with your thoughts." The inquisitor
walked out of frame.
The scene faded and started again with Jack now
strapped to the medical table again.
There was a struggle to breath; the drugs were causing respiratory
complications.
"Hey, Janet, is that Jack?" It was Daniel. She hadn't heard him come into her
office. She shut the video down.
"No, Daniel, are you alright?" Janet did her best to distract him. "Good, good. I'm glad.
Is there something I can do for you?"
"No, just wanted to let you know that Jack only has a strained wrist. He's giving Denise all kind of hell. She's threatening to choke him with an
elastic bandage: you know the usual."
Daniel was trying to look at the file on her desk.
"Okay, fine.
I have some work, Daniel; if you don't mind." Janet had him by the elbow and was leading
him to the door.
"Are you sure that wasn't Jack on what, what
you are watching. What is it you are
watching?" Daniel was not about to
let it go.
"Old training films," Janet had him
over the threshold and into the hallway.
She closed the door once he was clear of it.
A moment later, there was a knock on her
door. Janet rose from behind her desk
ready to give Daniel a size six suppository only to throw open the door and
find Jack. His head was tilted to one
side looking down from his six feet two to her five foot five, in pumps. His left wrist wrapped, apparently with duct
tape, was now resting in a sling.
"Doc?" He asked taking a step inside. "You needed to see me?"
There were tears threatening like a storm in her
jasper eyes. She leaned around him and
locked her office door. Her defiance
burned into him.
"Explain this?" Without looking back at the monitor she
pulled the remote from her pocket and hit the play button.
The screen blossomed into black and white as Jack
looked away from Janet's angry face to view the picture. The voice he heard first, the room next and
then an image that he had never seen before, but had starred in. A trickle of sweat ran down his back and his
stomach tightened for a second before he gained control.
"John, tell me why you left? Just admit it and I will give you the
injection."
"No, Jack, not John, wrong person." He was balled up
hugging his midsection.
"Please, John, I know better. I raised you.
You can become anyone, anything you want. WE taught you how; you have the intelligence
and the knowledge. John, you are a
Pretender, but do not pretend with me."
"No, wrong person, I'm Jack O'Neill, two
l's."
Jack watched himself, battered and addicted, look
up from the corner of a room that had been his prison for thirty days. This looked to be about day twenty. The need for the drug was winning; the other
drugs were causing psychotic visions.
They were going to stop feeding him the next day. Starvation, addiction, and torture lying in his own vomit, excrement, and
blood; it all came back to him.
"It was a long time ago." Jack whispered his eyelids at half-mast as he
was overcome with the memories of the stampede of savageries he had
endured. There on the tape and then in
"This wasn't in your medical file. I thought, I mean
"I got old fast." Jack turned away and reached down and took
the remote out of Janet's hand. She
broke and plowed into his arms. Janet
sobbed openly.
"I can't stand to see you hurt." Janet
pulled away and looked at him her lips quivering in anger and
anguish.
Jack took her face in his right hand. Janet rested her cheek into his palm.
"Honey, it was a long time ago." Jack whispered into her hair pulling her back
into the safety of his arm. In truth, it was not him comforting her but him
taking comfort in her, knowing how much she cared, to know that his soul was worthy of someone
caring this much, to shed tears over him.
"A long time
ago." He picked up her face
with a fingertip so he could kiss her tear-moistened lips. "I'm okay." He whispered on her lips. Her still trembling lips opened for him. Her tongue sought out his hungrily, the need
to be assured in physical passion, to be reassured with a kiss.
The kiss ended and Jack held Janet against him
swaying slightly to calm her, to reassure himself. His eyes looked into the face of the
inquisitor who was, now for the first time, staring up at him from twenty years
in the past.
"How did you get this tape?" He had to know as he carefully extracted
himself from her arms. Jack moved to
have his back to her so Janet would not see the uncontrolled rage that
contorted his face.
"It came with several boxes of files the
Pentagon just released to us. Colonel, what?"
Janet didn't really know what to ask him.
The Colonel was the cold slap Jack needed. He embraced it; he slipped back into it, the
military mind, and all business modes.
"Has anyone else seen this?
You're going to have to show it to
"As your doctor, I could withhold
it."
"As the Chief Medical Officer of the SGC,
you can't." Jack finished for her
as he nodded his head in understanding.
He felt her small yet strong hand on his arm turning him around.
"I know, I know." Jack took her face again in his good
hand. "Show him and let me know
what he decides. I've got a mission
report to do... looks like I get to dictate
it." He waggled the fingers,
painfully, of his left wrist.
"Ice it.
Take the pain... "Janet
froze, now she knew why Jack hated d
drugs.
Jack knew she understood what she didn't know was
the video, if it was on the disk, only got worse from here. The hallucinations, the medical intervention
when they couldn't wake him up, he could remember the feel of the leather
straps on his wrists and seeing John die on the mission in
"Go home, Doctor's orders." Janet interrupted his thought. "Ice it. The General will have to wait
for his report." She reached up to
steal a kiss. "I'll stop by to
check on you after my tour." Janet
had collected herself inspired by Jack's suddenly pulling back into military
mode; however, the second kiss with his tongue exploring her mouth was not.
Jack hated to break the embrace, but his mind was
already moves ahead of everyone. His
mind was everywhere taking in all possible scenarios, preparing his answers
over and over again like till he could field dress them with as much ease as
his P-90. As prepared as he thought he
could make himself he had to get out.
The walls, the tons of mountain over him suddenly too claustrophobic; cement
walls closing in on him again, and again,
Jack didn't bother to change but
slipped his .9mm in his waistband and signed out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daniel and Sam sipped coffee in the conference
room Teal'c and General Hammond as they finished what seemed to be a very
animated conversation.
"Dr. Fraiser has sent the Colonel home for
the rest of the day. How did he injure
himself?"
Janet arrived as the debriefing was ending and
before Daniel could answer the question.
She carried the file and the disk with her.
"Dismissed."
"Doctor?" He steeled himself for what was coming
next. Janet sat down and handed him the
file as she did.
"What is it?"
"It came from the Pentagon, I think by
accident, with other medical reports.
It's," Janet paused for effect," It's another missing piece of
the O'Neill puzzle. He was not happy to
see this, sir. It's not in any of his
medical files."
"The Colonel said it was your decision as to
what to do with it from here."
Janet had forced herself into being medically objective while she
endured a second watching.
Her answer was a smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack turned the key in the lock of his front
door. The moment he let it open, he
sensed something amiss. The .9mm was
taken out of the waistband and the safety silently slipped off. He slid the door open soundlessly and cleared
the hallway, the pistol extended out and finger just outside of the trigger
guard. He stepped down into his living
room. Jack turned to see a tall young
man, mid thirties black hair step from his kitchen.
"Did the file and tape arrive?" The stranger asked,
his hands rose in the air.
"How did you arrange that?" Jack snapped.
"You NID or what?"
"What's the NID? And you should know how easy it is, you
perfected that little tactic didn't you, John?"
"It's Jack.
Don't you people ever learn?"
Jack snorted disgustedly.
"What people, John? From the Centre? Or those of us who got out because of
you?" The stranger continued.
"It was you; you're the one who set me
loose, back then." Jack recognized
the boy in the man.
"My name is Jarod." The youth spoke softly in a calming way.
"Nice to meet
ya, again. How the hell did you
get into my house?" Jack took a
step forward; he was not to be placated.
Jarod took another step forward and his hand
picked up a stack of red notebooks from the dining room table. "We have to talk, John. The Centre has new friends, maybe this NID
you are talking about. They are going
through all the old files. "
Jack let the hammer down slowly and walked to his patio window. He looked out at his back yard and just en
"It's been almost three decades. Why now?" He whispered, but in the silence of the room
Jarod could easily hear it.
"Because, you
were their first, their best, the brightest;
the model for the rest of us." Jarod put
a hand on Jack's shoulder and looked out the window with him. "Nice yard, home." There was a wisp of sadness Jarod's voice, a
longing for roots.
"I should have killed Raines and Parker when
I had a chance before they killed Catherine." Jack set the .9mm down. "Crap." He muttered.
"Damn you, Sydney."
Jack cursed within the confines of his own mind.
A short
time later, Jarod drank tea while Jack drank beer, several beers in fact. Jarod was methodically going over the
selection of red folders, giving Jack a summary of each.
"These are just a few of the people that I
have helped since I left the Centre.
Jarod continued to prattle on but Jack was
listening to his own thoughts. Saving
one person at a time, or saving this world or some other world, what did it
matter? How ironic; here he was an emotional
cripple with crutches expected to push the wheelchairs.
All he wanted was a day, one day to be nothing
else, no one else. Just a day, to be
Jack, with no memories or secrets, just a day to languish between Janet's
alabaster thighs, the woman he had allowed himself to fall in love with. Just that one day to make love to her, to
pleasure her and receive pleasure all without consequences and with the most
important factor, to be safe in her loving arms. Jack shook himself back to reality.
"What do you want with me? From me? What do I have to do?" The resignation in Jack's
voice denser than lead.
"Nothing, I just wanted to meet you and tell
you to be vigilant. You act like you
don't remember any of it."
"I didn't till I saw the playback
today. I remember now! Remind me to find some painful way to thank
you for that." Jack finished his
beer and went to retrieve another. Like
a country western song, he was doing his damnedest to drown some memories and
the lies he had just dished out.
"But I don't understand?" Jarod was genuinely confused.
"You're too smart to play the simple bastard
with me. I drugged myself. It took me six months to get the right
combination, and it worked for years. I
finally believed I forgot for all those years until they found me that
day. Do you know what they did to
me? Things that
weren't on the video, things not even those sick fucks in
"I've had enough Jarod, done enough. I 'm doing enough. John never existed. I can't let him live again, even for a
second." Jack was clutching the
beer bottle tightly, knowing that if he let it out of his grip, his hand would
be shaking. No one could ever see that;
no fears, no tears, no weakness, no emotions; he had mastered these arts at the
Centre long before his commando training.
Sara had been the only one to tap into the buried vein of humanity, then
Charlie and now Janet.
"You can't forget?" Was it a statement, an accusation, or a
question? Jarod was not sure that it
wasn't all three. It was now that he
could see the haunted pain in Jack's brown eyes, a pain that only another
Pretender could see, could know, could recognize for Jarod had seen glimpses of
it in his own reflection.
"You'll always have a sanctuary here with
me. I'll get you keys and the code to
the alarm," Jack finally looked at the young man, at Jarod. Yes, he knew the name and he remembered it
all. His days at the Centre from when he
was only six till his escape at sixteen and he remembered the boy, who was
about Charlie's age, who had crawled into the room where he was held. Risking it all, the young boy had slipped him
a Swiss Army knife and a copy of the surveillance tape. Jack had cut the restraints and a throat or
two during his flight to freedom from the Centre again, but he had left Jarod
behind. Jack had never forgiven himself
for that. He pulled out the Swiss Army
knife and set it down between them. It
was a symbol of their liberation.
There was a prolonged silence. Jack reached out his one good hand to touch
the red folders. Red folders and
notebooks, flashes of memories and the soothing sound of Sydney's voice all
tumbled back. He wanted to forget, had
to forget again.
"How long are you in town and where are you
staying?" Jack asked abruptly.
"A few days, but I subleased an apartment
for two months. It throws them off the
trail." Now it was Jarod who has a
pissed yet anxious quality to his voice.
"Leave me the information. I need you to leave. . My
team has a tendency to check up on my when I'm injured. I'll be in touch." Jack's smile was as much a wince too. Anytime now they could be pulling up in
driveway. They did not need to meet his
past. "Do you need anything?"
"No, not
really." Jarod was standing up
and heading for the door. Jack had risen
also and was pulling out his wallet. He
extracted a white and blue business card.
He motioned towards the pen in Jarod's breast pocket. With it he wrote a number on the back of
it.
"This phone number is a special number. It can reach me here, on my cell or at the
base. There are only six people who have
this number, five of them are here, and one is in a big white house in DC. Don't lose it, and only use it if you'll know
you need to use it. Otherwise, use the
regular cell number.
"Take care.
Call me if you need to see me, or how can I reach you?"
Jarod pulled out a card and handed it Jack.
"Sweet," Jack laughed for the first
time. The card read Jarod Anderson, PHD Professor of
Middle Eastern Studies. "I'm doing
a couple of lectures here at the
"Jarod, be careful." Jack had him at the door and opened it and
looked around first before the young man was allowed to leave. "Car?"
"Parked two
blocks away. I came through a
couple of yards and streets to get here."
Jarod reach out his hand to Jack.
"Still an honor."
"Yeah, yeah, yada yada,
take care of yourself " Jack was now in full dismissal mode. "I know what you are trying to do but I
have my own way to do it. I'm the last
person you need to use as a role model."
"On the contrary, Colonel O'Neill, you are
the first, were the first." Jarod
stepped out of the house and sauntered off whistling the Air Force theme.
Jack walked back into his dining room and picked
up the folders with his good hand, he slipped the other arm out of the
sling. The pain was ignored; he had
worse this was only a minor annoyance.
He took his beer into the living room and sat down the folders across
his lap. The decision to read them had
already been made. He opened the first
one.
Two hours later he was through all the
folders. Jarod was a very good
Pretender. They had seasoned him well at
the Centre. The idea that a
boy was taken away from his family and raised in the cloister of the Centre, kept from normal
interactions with children his own age and the love of a parent enraged and sickened him, and guilt swallowed him whole.
Once he had established himself, Jack realized
that he should have gone back and made sure that they could never do to another
as had been done to him. But he had
taken the easy road, the road of denial in a concoction of drugs that made him
forget the past. He remembered the
whispering behind hands held to mouths about the poor boy that had to give him
injections. Each one brought him closer
to embracing only the identity he created, Jonathon Jarod O'Neill born in
The doorbell brought him out of his tortured
memories. Knowing that it was probably
one of his team, Jack stuck the folders
in the hall table. Leaving them
out or putting them away in front of his team would only entice Daniel to sneak
covert peeks at them. He opened the
door, startling Janet, but she gathered it back with one of her 100-watt smiles
that filled up the space between them.
Jack let it pour over him, it felt so good.
"Colonel, I see you're self medicating and
not keeping the wrist elevated."
The smile softened the reprimand.
"Caught me, come on in, Doc." Jack looked over her head and checked the
perimeter for additional quests or spectators.
He held the door as she stepped through.
"So how is the arm?" Janet asked as she stepped down into his
living room. A glance up to the dinning
room revealed a cup with a tea bag in it and two empty beers. Jack had had company, a twinge of jealousy
twisted her stomach, but she denied it life.
A large hand with long fingers touched her shoulder and encouraged her
to turn around to face him. She did and
found his mouth descending to hers.
Jack's first kiss was slow and thoughtful. She wondered what Jack was up to as she
crossed her legs trying to ignore the tingling that had started between her
legs from his kisses but it only made it worse.
"What did
"He locked the file and disc in his private
safe. He said that they'd never see the
light of day unless you agree otherwise."
Her brown eyes searched his face for a glimmer of the warm sexy man who
had greeted her at the door. She found
coldness and, for a brief flicker there was fear, but it dissolved with her
answer.
"Jack do you want to ..." She stopped
herself; Janet knew better Jack would only talk when he was ready to and that
was usually never.
"Where's Cassie?" The abrupt topic change threw Janet.
"Spending the
night with a friend."
"Then you don't have to rush off?"
There was an appeal for a positive answer in his
near whispered question.
"No, I have the night free." Janet leaned forward; it was time to take the
initiative, and she took his injured wrist in hers. Jack didn't wince as she checked the fingers
for coldness; there was none, the circulation fine.
Jack's other hand came to side of her face. "Wrong, Doc. I think I have some plans for you." Behind his brown eyes smoldered passion and
Janet could read it clearly as he took her by the hand and lead her up the
stairs to his bedroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jarod turned the key in the lock of his sublet
apartment; in one arm he cradled a bag of groceries from the organic grocery
store a block away. His mind was on the
meeting. Meeting "John" or
"John Doe #1 " as he
was known in all the files, had not been all that he had expected; that was
inaccurate - it was different than he had fantasized. John Doe #1 was a man, but to say just any
man, average or normal, that was wrong.
Using every trick he had learned at the Centre and those since his
departure, he has still was only able to pull up the basic file on the man, the
press release version from the Air Force.
Colonel Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill,
Special Forces trained, first seeing action in the
very last days of
The darkness and ghosts in the brown eyes of John Doe #1
were not from the Centre. Although it had provided the haunted house, there had been other events that had conjured
those specters. There was a blood
blackness swirling in the chocolate eyes that spoke of extremes, abilities and
emotions once unleashed or left to roam that even he Jarod could not pretend he
could approximate or fathom. All of this
held in check in the lean outer trappings of a simple soldier. He was inspired and frightened by the
possibilities and determined to delve no deeper respectful of John's need to
maintain the pretense of a life he had created.
"You know the little book store on the
corner has much better coffee than that large chain. They grind it special for you and have some
great blends." A friendly voice
drifted over to Jarod as he got the key to open the lock.
Jarod had not noticed his neighbor, though he had
observed him before. The
thirty something man stood before his own front door dressed in tan Dockers, a
black turtleneck, and a light jacket.
"Jackson,
Daniel right?" He asked opening the
door and stepping inside. "Please
come in." Suddenly Jarod needed
company after years of isolation. The need for companionship seemed to be a wound
that would not heal.
"That would be nice, okay." The sandy haired man smiled and his blue eyes
seemed to twinkle with honesty behind his glasses. "You here for
long?"
"No, and it's Jarod
Anderson, just subletting for a month or so. I am doing some lecturing at the
College and the Academy. At least it's
furnished. "Jarod liked the man
already.
"Lecturing? Are you a professor
of?" Daniel was now curious.
"Middle
Eastern Studies. I'm doing series of lectures on the terrorism. Jarod began to unpack his groceries as Daniel
looked around.
"Middle
Eastern Studies, just modern or ancient?" Daniel looked at Jarod over his glasses
before he scanned the apartment. The
only thing different or out of place was a metal briefcase and a stack of
newspaper clippings that were laid out on a desk with a red folder.
"Well, you need to know the history to
understand how it affects the present. Any interest to you,
Daniel?"
"Yes, actually, I'm an archeologist;
Egyptology is one of my specialties."
Daniel tried to make it sound like he was not bragging.
"So you are 'that' Dr. Daniel Jackson. I've read your work. Interesting theories. Are you here teaching or what?" Jarod was running mentally through all the
material he had covered on this young professor.
"No, I am with NORAD, deep space radar
telemetry, kind of a SETI thing. I'm
also a linguist. It keeps a roof over my
head." Daniel smiled secretly at
his own lies.
Jarod had his back to Daniel at that moment. NORAD, deep space radar telemetry, an
archeologist/linguist and John Doe #1, the Pretender of Pretenders and a highly
decorated Special Ops operative, this was a mix that might bear looking
into. Maybe, he would need to see Jack one
more time.
"Does this little book store offer more than
coffee?" Jarod turned on his charm.
"Well, they have some very nice organic
sandwiches and dishes, health food stuff; I think it is to counter all the
caffeine."
"Daniel, I really don't want to cook. Would you care to show me this book
store? I would like to discuss some of
your theories with you."
Daniel was charmed and it was not often he got to sit and drink too much
coffee with a fellow academic, especially someone in his own field, sort of,
close enough. There was also the idea of
eating. He was not a gifted cook, and the MRE's they had eaten planet-side had
not been very satisfying, the old taste like chicken, but it’s really macaroni
and cheese thing.
Jarod smiled a dark crooked smile, organic food,
hot coffee and a subtle interrogation. This was going to be an interesting
evening. He slipped a notebook into his
inside jacket pocket before he closed the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Staring out the window looking at the gate,
George Hammond was lost in thought. He
turned his chair back to his desk and looked at the file in front of him. The images of the video
playing back in his head.
"Damn it Jack." He mumbled and put the classified file back
in his safe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack lay asleep, peacefully, curled up in a half
fetal position. Janet found she was able
to extricate herself from the bed. She
slipped on Jack's discarded shirt and made a quick trip to the bathroom. What she need now was a cigarette, filthy
habit. She quit years ago, but on rare occasions she would have one. Once a smoker, always a smoker; just like an
alcoholic - one
drink too many, a hundred not enough. She might had
quit smoking, but she was still a smoker.
There was a stale pack of KOOL Milds in the bottom of her purse most of
them crushed and broken, but she found there were a few still salvageable. The clock on the kitchen wall told her it was
0139 in the morning.
As she padded down the staircase to the dining
room she bumped into the hall table. The
drawer was slightly open and the corner of a red folder jutting out. Women are curious and Janet tried to just
close the drawer but instead found herself
opening. Four red notebooks, the
handwriting not Jacks lay there waiting to be read. How could she even thing about invading his
privacy like this? Janet knew how
obsessive Jack was about his privacy.
Intimacy did not always give one the combination to the safe. She took out the book of matches and forced
herself to close the drawer properly.
Silently she opened the sliding glass door to his
patio and lit the cigarette. Lost in her
own thoughts she didn't hear him until he was behind her.
"I bring out all the bad habits in you,
don't I?" Jack questioned, slipping
one arm around her waist and taking the cigarette from her other hand. Instead of tossing it out, he took a deep
drag. "Damn! Menthol," he gasped but took a second
drag and blew out smoke rings. Both were
ex-smokers who fell from the tobacco wagon occasionally.
"Jack, is that why you said before 'you've
done the strapped down to a bed, drugged out thing'?" Janet took the smoke back from him and walked
back towards his dinning room.
"Yes."
Janet knew she might have to drag the rest out of
him. She headed to the kitchen for a
drink. She already knew where the beer
was but a shot of bourbon would be in better order. Sometimes intimacy granted the right to
question. The bottle of Southern Comfort
was there and she found two juice glasses.
Jack was dressed only in a pair of jeans, she
knew with no boxers, sitting across his table in the moonlight waiting for
her. The man was so astute he knew there
was more than just a need for a cigarette involved in her nocturnal wanders.
She set a both glasses down in front of him and
poured three fingers in each, neat, and waited.
"They had the wrong man, I don't know,
didn't know who they were. The guy on
the tape just kept at me in a soft kind of away, gentle and promising not to
hurt me, scolding me like I was a little kid day after day. After about fifteen days, they decided that
making me addicted to Dilaudid wasn't as efficient as they had thought. So they roughed me up, tenderized me so that
I would have less resistant against the drugs.
" Jack let the words just
roll out. He cleansed his throat by
empting the glass. He poured another one
and offered the bottle to Janet.
"So now you know why I don't like
needles." He gave her a bitter smile
setting the filled glass down. He sat
back in the chair arms crossed over his chest, his body language defiant.
"I had to ask. What they did to you..." Janet stammered and clutched her glass with
both hands.
"Jan, I've had worse, well, that was the
first time." Jack sipped on the
bourbon relaxing, his arms wide and one leg folded across a knee.
"I had to ask." Janet's voice was tiny; it was not the doctor who spoke but the
woman who cared.
"One more smoke and what say we get some sleep?" There was playfulness now.
Janet rose and sought out her purse. She brought the crumpled pack out from the
depths of it and found another bent but not broken Jack lit it and pulled her down into his lap. Through the jeans she could that he was
aroused.
"Sleep you say?" Came the giggle as draped her arms over his
shoulders and now sat astride him.
His cell phone began to ring. It was next to his wallet on his table beside
his bed.
The two looked at each other and sighed. His cell
phone ringing this late at night only meant trouble. Both felt themselves slip into full alert
mode. Jack mounted the stairs two at a
time. Janet took them one at time but
was only a second behind.
"O'Neill," He listened closely. "Daniel, what the hell are you saying?
You hurt?
Hold on Danny." Jack snapped
the phone shut. "Get your clothes
on Daniels hurt." Jack reached into
his bedside table and pulled out his .9mm and two extra clips. It didn't matter about appearance - one of
their own was in trouble.
"My bag's in my car." Janet buttoned up her blouse and stepped into
her pumps. Within five minutes they were
in Jack's truck and backing out headed to Daniel's. Half way there Jack reached into his glove
compartment and pulled out a .9mm and handed it to Janet. He didn't have to ask if she knew how to use
it. He'd seen her in action before.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The drive was furious but not reckless. Jack was too experienced in both pursuit and
evasive driving to be a danger to anyone. Besides it was after
"Easy there, Daniel." Janet whispered soothingly as she checked the
inert figure over. He'd been
beaten, his right eye was swollen shut,
his bottom lip was split, and he also had a large lump at the back of the head.
"Jack?
Janet?" Daniel recognized
the two semi- out- of- focus faces.
"Who did this to you, Daniel?" Jack's voice was harsh with urgency.
"Don't know, never saw their faces. My neighbor and I went out for coffee. They got him." Daniel was drifting. Janet pulled out her trusty pen light and
checked his pupils. They were slightly sluggish.
"We’ve got to get him to the
infirmary." Janet spoke over her
shoulder to Jack who stood at the door as if on guard.
"They got him. Jarod." Daniel was persistent and agitated. "They said tell O'Neill, he'll
understand and ...." Daniel pointed
in the general direction of his living room.
Jack looked around and both he and Janet
recognized what Daniel was pointing at a red folder on his coffee table.
Clipped to it was a note in clear block printing.
"Time to come home,
John."
Jack swallowed hard but it was his only outward
reaction till he met Janet's gaze. She
was looking at the red folders and back at him questions dancing in her brown
eyes. His stomach turned to lead.
Somehow Janet had grasped the importance of the folders, and she recognized the
sentiment.
"We have to get him to the
infirmary." Janet broke the glass
of silence first.
Jack picked up the folder and helped Daniel
up.
"I can do it. I can walk." Daniel grimaced and allowed Jack to help him
out. Janet closed and locked the
door. They took the elevator to the
parking lot and laid Daniel in the back seat.
The red folder sat between the two of them in the
front seat. Jack refused to make eye
contact with her, but Janet knew she had just stumbled into one of Jack's
secrets and she was not welcomed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She'd watched them arrive; the silver haired man
reeked of combat training, Special Forces, maybe, but more than a cop. Now they helped the sandy haired man out to
the big green Ford truck, the guy that had been with Jarod at the coffee
shop. From the looks of the man, he'd
been worked over. She had arrived too
late. Even in the dark, the red folder
in the gray hair guy’s hand was noticeable.
She was on her third cigarette and placed it
between full deep red lipstick covered lips when her phone rang. She was following them outside of the city
and up into the mountains.
"What!"
She could hear Broots stammering in her ear. "Shut up." She snapped the phone closed and tossed it on
the seat next to her. The green Ford
truck continued on but had to stop, authorized personnel only. Before her, the road to
"What the hell is going on here?" She questioned watching the truck waved
through the checkpoint.
From the seat next to her she could hear a voice
repeating her name over and over again, "Ms. Parker."
She picked up the phone and held it to her
ear. "For crying out loud, Broots,
this had better be good." Miss
Parker snapped venomously.
"I think they got Jarod." A very apologetic and scared male voice told
her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End
Chapter one....