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It is only the dead who do not return

   Bertrand Barere de Vieuzac

Elgin Air Force Base

Florida

1 week later

Sara O’Neill felt like she had counted every minute, every hour, every day since Jack had left.  She knew she had counted every SECOND since they had told her he was missing. Knowing just how long he had been missing didn’t help but it gave her life a focus and without that she would have been lost.

She still had hope, she needed that both for herself and for Charlie.  On the darkest days and during the long and lonely nights she clung to her hope and somehow she got by.

Charlie kept her sane, she knew without him and his laughter the months since Jack had left would have seemed like an eternity.

It was the first dry day in over a week and Sara was replacing the battered yellow ribbons that hung forlornly from the porch.  The sound of a heavy transport plane landing made her look up from her task.  More troops returning home. Every time she heard a plane landing she wondered would this be the one that brought Jack back to her?

Would he walk from that plane smiling in his devil-may-care way, as if the last few months had been nothing?

Would he be carried from that plane, in a coffin draped with the Flag?

She pushed that last thought from her mind.

Turning her attention once more to the ribbons she noticed the official Air Force car as it drew to a stop outside her house. The two young officers who had come all those months ago to tell her Jack was missing, were once more on her porch.

As she watched them approach her heart was suddenly in her mouth and her hands shook as she finally retied the last new ribbon.

Was this it? Was this the day her hope was finally crushed? Was this the day her life ended or the day it began again?

“Mrs O’Neill, we have some information about your husband. Could we step inside please?”

The officers’ faces were impassive, over the past few months they had made this journey and told this tale way too many times.

Numbly, Sara led them into the house, offered them a seat and coffee. She was acting on autopilot, trapped between wanting to know and not wanting to know, she paced nervously and eventually she knew that she had no other option but to ask.

“Is my husband dead?”

There was a moments pause.

Oh my God

He is dead

The young male officer had taken a sheet of paper from his inside pocket and, after quickly scanning its contents, he spoke.

“Mrs O’Neill, I have been authorized by the United States Air Force to tell you that during a combined Air Force and Marine Corps operation to liberate an Iraqi prison, Major Jonathon O’Neill was located.  He is alive and is now in a military hospital where he is undergoing treatment for his injuries.”
 

Jack was alive!

He would be coming home!

He IS alive.

A million different emotions suddenly seemed to being vying for Sara’s attention.  She was happy he was alive. She was worried that he was hurt.  She was delighted he had been found.  She was scared for him and for her.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”  Her voice shook with emotion as she made her way to an empty chair and sat down.  “You said he was in hospital. What’s wrong with him?”

The thoughts of Jack maimed, or burnt, or blinded forced themselves into her mind. That for him would be worse than death, for her, well she didn’t know…

The two officers glanced at each other, they had already decided that there was no need to tell Sara everything. No need to tell her that for the last four months her husband had been systematically and repeatedly, starved, beaten, drugged, tortured and raped.

“Major O’Neill had been held in the prison for several months and during that time he had suffered some injuries, the extent of which is not yet fully known.  The hospitalization is just a precaution until we can fully assess his condition and then repatriate him to the United States.”

This time Sara caught the brief glance between the two officers. She knew then that she wasn’t getting the whole story, she also knew that maybe she never would.

She had discovered in the past few months that the Air Force only told you what they wanted you to know. She knew that if she pressed them for more details they would just stonewall her with regulations and red tape.  For now she had to accept what they told her.

“Can I talk to him?”

“I’m sorry but just at the moment that is out of the question. The Major has still to complete his debriefing and until that has been done we can’t allow him to talk to anybody else.”

Why

What’s wrong with him?

What do they need to know?

“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was obvious.

“As soon as we can we will let you speak to him, but you must realize that after such a long period of imprisonment the debriefing will take time. You may not be able to speak to him before he returns home. I’m sorry but there is nothing more we can do at the moment.”

Sara felt like the wind had gone out of her sails. The initial elation she felt at being told that Jack was still alive was gone.  Blown away by the growing certainty that she wasn’t being told the whole truth about what had happened to Jack and what was still happening to him.

The two officers rose and excused themselves.

“We’ll go now Mrs O’Neill, but as soon as we have any further news on your husband we will be in touch.  You can of course call our office at any time and we will do what we can to assist you.”

That’s a crock!

”Thank you.  Hopefully it won’t be too long until I hear from you.”

Sara’s voice was laced with insincerity. From her previous experience with the Air Force she knew she would probably not hear another thing until Jack walked back through the door, telling her he couldn’t talk about it.

She showed the officers out and when she turned back to the house, it seemed a little bit more like the home it once was.  Jack may not be back yet but he was on his way.

In the living room she idly picked up a photo of them all at the beach. Frank had taken it last summer and they all looked happy and carefree as they played at the edge of the water. For some reason she always chose this picture to look at when she was at her lowest, it had never failed to make her smile.  Sara knew that Jack loved this photo too, he loved the beach, he loved her and Charlie and now he was finally coming home.

She sat holding the photo to her chest and smiling to herself until the sound of Charlie returning from school broke her reverie.

“ Hi Mom.”

“Hi Sweetheart, did you have a good day at school?”

She put the photo down and motioned to Charlie to come and sit beside her.

“Come here Charlie, I’ve got some news about your Dad.”

Charlie had long since stopped asking when his Dad was coming home, but Sara knew he still missed him. She had heard him crying in the night when he thought she couldn’t hear and she heard him praying for him, asking God to look after him and her.

“Is he here Mom, is Dad here?”

His face had brightened and he was once more full of the infectious optimism of the young as he ran to Sara’s side.  As he settled beside her she took his hand in hers, holding it tightly.

“No Charlie, your Dad is not here, not yet, but he will be real soon.  I promise.”

“You said that before Mom and he never came home then.”

Sara couldn’t deny the truth in that statement.  Time and again she had told Charlie that his Dad would soon be home, and time and again she had lied to him.  He had every right not to believe her this time either.

“ I know Sweetheart, I know. But this time it’s different, this time I know for sure that your Dad is coming home.  The Air Force people came today and told me.”

She squeezed his hand, and smiled, willing him to believe her.

“When?”  The childlike simplicity of the question seemed to signal Charlie’s acceptance of her words.

“Soon Sweetheart real soon.  Your Dad got hurt while he was away and once he’s out of the hospital he’ll be right home.  Isn’t that great news? What should we do for him? Should we have a big party when he gets home?”

Sara and Charlie fell into deep discussions about what they would all do when Jack got back. They made plans for parties and barbecues. They would go to ball games and hockey games and on trips to the beach.  Life would be great and everything would be just as it was all those months ago.

What they couldn’t know was that the man who would come back to them would be so very, very different from the man they watched leaving on that hot summer day, 5 months ago.

*********

We have to distrust each other. It’s our only defense against betrayal

   Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Air Force Hospital

Vandenberg Air Force Base

California

For Jack, the last two weeks had passed in a haze of drugs and doctors, occasional stabs of pain and every now and then questions.

He had been flown from Sijn al-Tarbout to the allied military hospital in Kuwait.  On route the medics in the chopper had given him a thorough examination and as a result he was rushed into the waiting operating theatre for emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding.

His weakened condition made the surgery a dangerous option, but without it he would certainly have died, probably within hours.  The surgeons were quick and efficient, finding and repairing his damaged spleen with the minimum of trauma to the rest of his body.

Their work done it would now be up to Jack to decide if he wanted to live or die, if he had the strength and the will left to battle one more set of demons, face up to one more set of trials and overcome them.

They would give him every chance, give him all the help they could but in the end there was only one man who could decide if Major Jonathon O’Neill lived or died and that was Major O’Neill himself.

They cleaned his wounds, stitching the gashes made by the hunting knife, braced his knee and put supporting bandages around his chest to help his broken ribs. They put him onto drips to help replenish his body fluids and others to fight infection and keep down the levels of pain.  They kept him sedated as much as possible, letting his body begin the long and slow process of healing and recovery.

Jack never seemed to be able to quite wake up properly, he would hear voices quietly talking to him, about him, around him but they were never clear enough or loud enough.  He tried to open his eyes but they always seemed to feel so heavy, he tried to speak but his voice failed him. Mostly the effort of trying to battle against the sedatives he was being given, was a battle he couldn’t win and so he stopped trying.

If this was still some evil twisted trick at least it didn’t hurt like before and to Jack that was everything.

No pain, no questions, no trick?

After about a week, the doctors in Kuwait decided that Jack was ready to be shipped back to the United States. They had stabilized his condition, fixed up the worst of his injuries and started the healing process, there was nothing more they could do here that couldn’t be done as well, and in some cases better, back home.

Quietly one night they put Jack onto a military transport plane accompanied by a doctor and a nurse and he began his long journey home.

For the rest of the hospital staff, they were told to forget they had ever seen or heard of Major O’Neill and what had been done to him.  It was to be as if he had never existed, ever.

The Air Force Hospital was one of the best and well used to dealing with the after effects of war, conflict and covert operations on both the bodies and minds of those who passed through its doors.

Jack O’Neill would be in good hands, hands that would heal his body, hands that would piece together his shattered life, hands that would save him – if he would let them.

Jack heard a voice, softly talking to him.

“Come on Major, let’s see you open your eyes for me. Come on now I know you can, open your eyes for me Major.”

He tried to open his eyes, they still seemed too heavy, and it was too hard to open them.  Jack just wanted to leave them shut and drift back into wherever he had been.  The place with no dreams and no pain. The voice wouldn’t go away though, it kept telling him to open his eyes until eventually he had no choice but to do what the voice told him.

He blinked against the light, even though it was low and stared up into the eyes of an angel.

“Hi there! Glad you could join us, I’ve been waiting a long time to see what color your eyes were.”  The angel spoke and laughed as she reached out to check Jack’s vitals.

“Where..” Jack tried to ask, but his voice was hoarse and rasping and he felt very, very thirsty.

“Don’t try to talk just yet,” the angel told him as she carefully spooned some ice chips into Jack’s parched mouth.  “You’ve been asleep for several days and it will take a little while for everything to start working properly again.”

She put the ice chips down and returned to checking Jack’s blood pressure and heart rate.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you anything but, what the heck.  You’re in the Air Force hospital at Vandenberg. You’ve been here now for 3 days, before that you were in The Gulf. Do you remember what happened to you?”

I remember.

Betrayed.

Captured.

Tortured.

Saved.

I remember.

“I’ll go tell the doctor that you’re awake.  Don’t you run off anywhere now.”  She laughed again as she turned and left the room, stopping briefly by the door to look at her patient. She watched as he looked around him, slowly turning his head to take in everything, watched as he realized that just for now at least he was safe.

Over the next few days a succession of doctors came and went.  Doctors for his chest, doctors for his knee and doctors for his head.  Jack soon decided that the psychiatrists and psychologists were the worst, they tried to get inside his head, to make him talk, to make him tell them how he felt and why.

Hell how did they think he felt?

He had been beaten and tortured. His mind and his body had been brutalized and raped. He had lost everything he believed in.  He had been ready to give them what they wanted.  He had wanted to die.

At the end he had felt nothing, nothing but the unending physical pain, the unending mental anguish.

And now….

He felt….. empty.  Like he was no longer the man he had once been. He had let them take his body and his mind and he didn’t know if he could ever get them back.

He told the doctors what he thought they wanted to hear, anything to help get him out of this place. He lied to them over how he felt, told them that as soon as he got out of there and back home he would be fine.

They knew he wasn’t telling them the truth but they couldn’t prove it, soon they would have to let him go, let him get back to whatever would pass for a normal life in the shattered remains of the mind of Jack O’Neill.

Jack had just returned from another grueling session of physical therapy on his knee.  The doctors had operated soon after his return from the Gulf to repair the worst of the damage, but further operations would almost certainly be necessary, in-between times he had to strengthen the knee and the supporting muscles with hard physical workouts.

One of the resident psychologists was waiting for him.

Great.

Another session with the shrink.

Why don’t they just leave me alone?

I’m fine… really I am.

Aren’t I?

He did his best to ignore the doctor as he limped heavily to the bed and sat down at its edge. He was tired and as usual after these sessions his knee and his leg ached badly. Almost as badly as they had done back in prison, when Kamil had smashed them with his baseball bat, when he had been forced to walk to his humiliation, when he had been stretched taughtly on the metal frame waiting for death.

Jack shuddered slightly as the physical pain once more gave way to the memories.

“You OK Jack?” asked the doctor after noticing the shake in Jack’s limbs.

“What? Yea I’m fine, it’s just those guys in physio, you know what they’re like.  I’m just tired that’s all.”

The doctor didn’t miss the brief look of fear that passed across Jack’s face, but he chose this time not to pursue the matter.  Jack stilled his trembling limbs and swung himself up onto the bed.

“You have a visitor Jack.”

“Oh?”  Jack was curious. He had not seen anybody but authorized military medical personnel since he had woken that first day.

“Yea, are you up to seeing him Jack? I can tell him to go away if you’d rather wait until you are stronger.”

Now Jack was really curious. It obviously wasn’t Sara, and deep down he was glad. He wasn’t ready to face her just yet, he still needed more time, a lot more time.  Maybe it was his CO, come to check on him.  That was probably it, his CO.

“No, I’m Ok, It will be good to see a new face instead of your ugly mugs for a change.”

“Very funny Jack!  Now, if you’re sure?”

“Just get lost Doc and show in my mystery caller.”

“OK Jack I’m going.” The doctor laughed as he got up and made his way to the door.  “You know you can’t tell him about, well what happened to you out there.”

Jack just nodded.

Why would I want to tell anybody what happened to me?

Some things are NOT meant to be shared.

With anyone.

Ever.

A few moments passed and nobody came, Jack closed his eyes against the throbbing in his leg. But when he closed his eyes the memories were back, flashbacks to the times of pain, of horror, of torture. He couldn’t make them go away, they haunted him until a sharp knock on the door made him open his eyes.

The figure that now stood just inside the doorway was that of the one person Jack never wanted to see.

Frank had stood for a minute or two at the door to Jack’s room, his hand raised ready to knock.  He looked at his friend, and was both saddened and shocked by what he saw.  Jack was still gaunt, his clothes hung loosely from him, like they were a couple of sizes too big.  He could still make out the fading bruises on his exposed arms and legs.  His face was hollow, dark circles were evident around his eyes, a new scar slashed through his left eyebrow. As he watched Jack he noticed how the lines of pain came and went from his face as he fought with … well whatever was going on his mind. Jack seemed smaller, like a frail old man battered by what life had thrown at him. As Frank watched he realized that Jack looked scared and scared was not a word he had ever associated with Jack O’Neill.

Having seen enough of his friend suffering he rapped loudly on the door and stepped inside.

“Hi Jack.  How are you?”

“Frank.” Jack’s voice was tight as he forced the words out through gritted teeth. He could hardly believe that, just a few feet in front of him, was the one person in the whole world he held responsible for what had happened to him.

“Hey Buddy, glad to see you.”  Frank had moved inside the room now and was slowly making his way towards Jack.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to get to see you? I had to call in some pretty big favors just to get them to tell me where you were.”

Jack just couldn’t believe his eyes. There was Frank, bold as brass, large as life acting as if nothing had happened. He was behaving as if Jack had been in some sort of minor accident, not missing in action for over four months, being starved and beaten and worse for the sadistic pleasure of a couple of crazy men.

He forced himself upright on the bed and swung his legs back over the side.  The pain flared back up his leg, jarring his ribs, which were still healing and making him grimace.

“Get out Frank.  Just get the fuck out of my sight.” Jack was on his feet now, his anger masking the pain in his leg.

“Hey Jack, come on now.  I’ve pulled a lot of strings to see you, at least let me know you’re OK before you throw me out.”

“Don’t come any closer Frank, or I swear I’ll kill you.  You fucking son-of-a-bitch Frank. YOU FUCKING SON-OF-A-BITCH.”

Jack was rigid with anger and hatred, his abused body quivered with the emotions running through him.  He hardly felt the pain in his leg any more, he just felt an uncontrollable rage, a burning desire to make Frank pay.  To make him suffer like he had suffered, to make him bleed and scream and beg.

“Hey Jack, come on buddy.  Just calm down now – I just wanted to see you, to make sure you were OK, to….”

“To ease your guilty conscience?”

“No Jack, well not… maybe. You know I had no choice Jack, don’t you? You know I had to go.  I had no choice buddy.. really I didn’t.”

Frank had started to move towards Jack as he spoke, hoping maybe that he could somehow pacify the angry man before him.

“Bastard!” Jack spat back at his ‘friend’.  “We made a deal Frank remember? We don’t leave ANYONE behind.”

Jack took a shaky step towards Frank, the adrenaline fuelling his anger was the only thing that kept him from collapsing where he stood.

“Anyone.”  Suddenly Jack’s voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper as a sudden unbidden wave of memories flooded his mind. Savagely he pushed the memories down, back into the box he tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to keep them in.

“Just let me explain Jack, I had…”

“Shut up Frank.. just shut the fuck up.  I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses not now, not ever.  I just want you out of my life Frank; I never want to see you again.  I trusted you Frank and you, you..”

Once more the memories sprang free from their box and once again they were all too real. Memories of pain, of torture, of humiliation. Memories of darkness, of the loss of love and the despair of man who no longer had a reason to live.  They threatened to overwhelm him, to swallow him up and take him back to those dark, dangerous places.  He closed his eyes, briefly, taking as deep a breath as his still healing ribs would allow, and when he opened them again he took the pain of those memories and turned it on Frank.

“You have no idea do you Frank?” Now Jack’s voice was edged with disgust, hatred dripped heavy on every word.

“You can’t imagine how I felt when I watched you leaving, or how I hoped and prayed that you would come back.”

“Look Jack…” Frank started to interrupt him, he needed to explain what had happened and why he had done the things he had, but it seemed that Jack just didn’t want to know.

“Don’t Frank, please just don’t tell me any more of your lies. I put my trust in you and you betrayed me. I put my life in your hands and you let me down.  I have nothing more to say to you Frank.  Just go, do what you are best at….leave.”

The sound of raised voices had finally brought Jack’s nurse and a burly orderly to his room, they saw the two men squaring up to each other.

“Is everything OK here?” The orderly asked as he stepped between the two officers.

Jack glared at Frank.

“Yes.  Major Cromwell was just leaving, weren’t you?”

“If that’s how you feel Jack, then I’ll go.” He turned and started to walk away, then he stopped and, looking back over his shoulder, he said “For what it’s worth Jack I’m sorry, I really am. Say hi to Sara and Charlie for me?”  Then he was gone, striding away down the empty hospital corridor.

Jack felt like a door to a part of his life was closing, Frank had been his friend forever and with that one action he had destroyed everything and almost cost Jack his life. There would be no going back for them, no reconciliation, they were through as friends for good.

As Jack turned back to his bed the adrenaline and anger that had kept him on his feet, that had kept the pain at bay began to dissipate and he staggered, almost falling. The strong arms of the orderly caught him and helped him to the bed, by the time he got him settled again Jack was white with pain and his limbs were once more trembling.

His nurse took over, checking his vitals and preparing a dose of painkiller.

“Do you want to tell me what all that was about?”

“Not really.”

“Is he a friend of yours?”

“Not any more.”  Jack let his head fall back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

The conversation was at an end.

*******

Jack woke with a sudden start.

“Kef …Mn Fadlek Balach <No… Please Don’t>”

He was drenched in sweat and breathing hard, the bed was in complete disarray where he had been tossing and turning, lost in the powerful grip of his nightmares.

For just the moment of his waking he wasn’t sure where he was, wasn’t sure if the nightmare was reality… again.

The clean, quiet, sterile atmosphere of his hospital room was comforting, the familiar sights of the TV and a pile of unread magazines helped to bring him back.

Another night. Another nightmare.

They always followed the same pattern, he was back in Iraq, being tortured all over again. The pain was so real he was sure he could feel it even after he had woken up.

He hadn’t told anybody about his nightmares – after all, they were nobody’s business but his own.

He was getting closer to being allowed to go home and if he told them about his nightmares then he was certain they wouldn’t let him go.

Going home.

Jack had managed to avoid really thinking about going home and what it meant until now.  Today was his final session with the psychiatrists, if he could fool them one more time into thinking he was ok, that he had dealt with the emotional after effects of what had happened to him, then they would discharge him and send him back to Elgin. Passed fit for duty.

Going home.

To face a wife and son who he had given up to the enemy to be used against him.  To face a family, who he had turned his back on, ready to take the easy way out, and die.

Would they know what he had done?  Would they care?  Would they understand why?  Would they forgive him, when he couldn’t forgive himself?

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the psychiatrist.

“Good morning Jack.  How are you today?”

“I’m fine. Shall we?” He indicated to the empty chair at the side of his bed.

“OK Jack, tell me how you felt when you realized you weren’t going to be rescued.”

Betrayed by my friend.

“I was angry, but I used that to help me.  I tried to find a way to escape, but it just wasn’t possible.”

“They questioned you?”

“Eventually – yes.”

“What did you tell them.”

“Nothing.  Just the usual, name, rank serial number. Nothing more.”

I think.

“What did they do when you refused to answer their questions.”

What didn’t they do?

Do you want the whole list or just the highlights?

But you know all this anyway – you’ve seen my file.

“They tried to … shall we say persuade me to answer their questions. When I didn’t they let me go back to my cell.”

“How did you feel towards them, those who were ‘persuading’ you?”

WHAT!

If I’d had the strength I would have killed them where they stood.

But I didn’t have the strength … they made sure of that.

“They had a job to do and so did I.  The code of conduct says that I must resist by all available means. That is what I did.”

“So when they tied you down and raped you, were they just doing their job then?”

No the sick bastards just did that for fun.

And God it hurt.

It still hurts… inside me.

“I guess they thought it would focus my mind on what they wanted.  Didn’t work though. I still didn’t tell them anything.”

“How do you feel about that ‘ incident’ now Jack?”

“It’s history. It’s not something I think about any more. It’s done, I’m over it, I’ve moved on and I think you should too.”

Lies Jack.

Nothing but a pack of lies.. and you know it.

That and everything else is eating you up.

There were a few more questions about the same old things, how did he feel then, how did he feel now.  Then the big question.

“So how do you feel about finally going home Jack? Back to your wife and son. Are you ready to go home?”

Yes.

No.

God – I just don’t know.

Will they know what I did to them?

Will they still want me if they do?

I just don’t know.

“Doctor, the one thought that kept me going through all my time in prison was that my wife and son would be waiting for me, expecting me to come home and I couldn’t let them down.  I have been ready to go home since the day I was captured.  Now, are you going to let me out of this place or not?”

“Well, that’s not just my decision alone Jack, you know that, but I shall be recommending your release at our next review meeting.  I think you will be going home real soon now.”

The doctor rose and, patting Jack on the shoulder, he turned and left. Jack let out a long breath.

Wow – that was hard work.

Must have convinced him though.

Now all I have to do is convince Sara I’m ok.

And myself……

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

When a calamity has been suffered the first thing to be remembered is, how much has been escaped

   Samuel Johnson

Sara O’Neill paced nervously about her living room, glancing furtively at the telephone, as if it were some malevolent being.  She had finally been told that she would be allowed to speak to Jack, but now the time was almost upon her she suddenly found that she didn’t know what to say.

She had lost count of the number of times over the last few months that she had played out this scene in her head, talking to Jack, telling him everything and nothing, being the strong and resourceful Air Force wife. When the reality struck she was like a lost child, frightened, alone, scared.

How will he be?

What will I say?

What does he expect from me?

The shrill ring of the phone stopped her thoughts and her pacing in mid-flight.  There was no more time to wonder about what might be, the time was now.

Taking a steadying deep breath she crossed the room and, with a slightly shaky hand, picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

Nothing.

Silence.

“Hello.”

Then at last the voice she knew and loved.

“Hello Sara. How are you?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It seemed like it had been a lifetime ago that she had last heard Jack’s voice. Then he was telling her he would be home in no time and she shouldn’t worry about him. Now he sounded, well like Jack but not like Jack.  His voice was different, a little guarded maybe?

“Oh God Jack.. is it really you?”

“Yea it’s me.  Did you miss me then?”  Jack’s attempt at humor didn’t quite work.

“Yes, oh God yes, more than you could know Jack. Charlie missed you too, we both did.”

In the Air Force hospital Jack swallowed hard as the mention of Charlie brought his raw emotions welling up to the surface again.

Charlie.

My son.

My life.

“Is he OK?.... Are you OK?”

“We’re fine Jack.  We’re BOTH fine, we just want you home Jack.  When will you be home?”

Emotion cracked through her voice and silent tears fell as she listened to the sound of her husband’s voice.

Real, alive, coming home.

“I’ll be back on Friday Sara, can you believe that I’ll finally be back on Friday?”

Jack’s voice too betrayed his emotions, emotions that he hadn’t expected to feel.

“Will you come and meet me?”

“Try and keep me away.”  She tried to laugh, to lighten the atmosphere that seemed to have descended on the conversation.

“Sara…” A pause.

“Yes Jack.”

“Please don’t bring Charlie with you.”

“Why Jack? He’s dying to see his Dad again, you know what kids are like.”

Why Jack?

Why don’t you want to see your own son?

Is it because you would rather have died than live out your life with him?

“You know the Air Force Sara; it will probably turn into some sort of media circus. The place will be swarming with top brass all trying to take the credit for something.  He’s just too young to understand all that sort of stuff. I’ll see him later, at home when it is just us.  Ok?”

“If you’re sure Jack, you know he’ll be disappointed not to be there.”

“Please Sara, just do this.. for me.”

The sound of Jack’s voice almost pleading with her, made Sara’s tears fall harder. She had never heard him sound like that before, she never wanted to again.

It wasn’t the voice of the Jack O’Neill she knew, the strong, confident, devil-may-care loving husband and father but the voice of a scared, hurt, lonely man.

What did they do to you Jack?

“Don’t worry Jack, I’ll keep him away until later. Now tell me how are you? Do you need anything?”

“No I’m fine, honestly. I just need to get out of here this place is driving me nuts!  I just want to come home and get back on with my life, with our life, all of us.”

Lies Jack.

Not the first.

Not the last.

Lies.

“I’ve got to go Sara.  I’ll see you on Friday.”

“I love you Jack.”

Sara got no reply other than the sound of the phone.

Across the country, in a hospital bed a man still more scared, more troubled, more broken than he showed stared at the phone in his hand as he hung up. Why could he not tell his wife that he loved her too? Had he lost so much of himself in that desert hell that he didn’t know if he could ever love her again?

Damn them.

Bastards!

Damn them.

********

Friday was a beautiful sunny day, not unlike the day that Jack had left. Sara was finally ready, having been through almost every outfit in her wardrobe at least twice, trying to find just the right thing to wear. Eventually she had settled on the same dress she had worn that day, it somehow seemed appropriate.

She had had a difficult time explaining to Charlie why he couldn’t come with her.  He wanted to see his Dad. Now.

Eventually after tantrums, tears and finally bribes she had managed to convince Charlie that it would be better for him to wait at home. She had told him that Daddy wanted to see him on his own, not with all those other people and to do that he had to patient for just a little longer.

A knock on the door and it was time. The day she had begun to think might never happen was here.  Turning to Charlie, she bent down to him and taking his face in her hands said, “Ok Charlie, this is it.  I’ve got to go now to meet your Dad. You be a good boy and wait here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.  I promise.”

She kissed him and stood up.

“Mom.”

“Yes sweetheart.”

“Tell Dad I love him.”

Sara swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes.

“I know, why don’t you tell him yourself.  He’ll be back real soon now.”

Another knock on the door.

“I’ve got to go now Charlie, not long now.”

She turned and hurried out of the house hoping her tears wouldn’t show.

The Air Force had sent a car for her and the young airman showed her in and then drove her to the main hanger where a group of high-ranking Air Force officers were already waiting.

She felt so nervous, like she was about to go on her first date or sit a college exam. The car drew to a halt, the driver got out and opened the door for her.  For just a moment she didn’t want to get out, to have to face all these people, to smile and make polite small talk while she waited for her husband to arrive.

Come on Sara.

No choice girl.

Up and at ‘em.

She got out of the car and was swallowed up into the waiting crowd, introduced to people left, right and center, asked the same questions time and again.

How do you feel?

What does it feel like to know your husband is a hero?

How did you manage not knowing what had happened to him?

How do you feel?

After a few moments a hush descended over the crowd and they all turned their eyes skyward.  The word had come through that the plane carrying Major O’Neill was on its final approach. At first it was just a speck against the clear Florida sky, but it gradually grew bigger and bigger until at last it circled the runway and landed.

The military machine moved into action.  Generals and Colonels made their way to the tarmac ready to be the first to welcome back the returning hero.  Sara was almost forgotten about, until somebody took her under their wing and lead her out to the edge of the waiting group.

“You should be able to see everything from here.”

“Thank you.”

Left alone, a civilian in the middle of all the uniforms and medals, the spit and polish, she once more felt nervous bordering on scared. She had no idea what to expect, nobody had told her anything, about what was going to happen, about what she was meant to do or say, or about Jack.

Oh God… why am I so scared?

He’s my husband – I shouldn’t be scared

What if….

She never had time to finish her thoughts as the plane had now stopped just a little way in front of her and the doors were open.

Jack was stood in the doorway.

All the way from Vandenberg Jack had been wrestling with his emotions. He wanted to see Sara and Charlie again, but he still knew that he had not dealt with the fact that in his darkest moment even they had not sustained him.  Even they could not have saved him from the welcoming arms of the death he sought. And yet he hadn’t died.  He had been saved, by the strength of his will, the courage of a Marine Sergeant and the stubborn fight for life, which had never given up inside him.

Maybe that would be enough.

It was all he had.

It would HAVE to be enough – at least for now.

The plane landed, taxied and finally came to a stop. Jack rose slowly from his seat, his body was still recovering from the months of abuse he had suffered and sitting in the same position for hours on end hadn’t helped.

Jack thought it felt strange to be wearing a uniform again, in fact it still felt strange to be wearing anything at all.  The uniform was his, sent to the hospital by Sara, but to look at it you would have thought it belonged to a different Jack O’Neill.  It hung from his wasted frame like the two were strangers.

Jack limped slowly to the door, wondering what was waiting for him on the other side, dreading what was waiting for him on the other side. As the plane door opened a wave of panic and dread washed over him and just for a second he wanted to turn and run.  To run back to what he knew best, the dimness of a cell, the man with grey hair and the pain.

Stopping just shy of the now open doorway Jack steadied himself with a deep breath and the thought of finally being free again.

He had not been free since that day in Tarasha, even in the hospital he wasn’t free, it was really just another kind of prison with doctors instead of guards and psychiatrists instead of interrogators but still the same questions.

Hi honey I’m home!

Jack strode into the open doorway.

He was faced with an array of highly decorated, highly ambitious, highly powered Air Force personnel lining the edge of the runway.  He balked slightly at the sight and searched for a face he knew.

Where is she?

She said she would be here.

Sara!

Finally he saw her looking a little lost and more than a little out of place at the edge of the crowd. He noticed that she was wearing the same dress as on the day he left.

When was that – seemed like a lifetime ago?

He sought her eyes but she was too far away, so instead he fixed her in his gaze and slowly made his way down the plane’s steps.

As he reached the ground it seemed as if all the bases most senior officers were in front of him.  He took a few slow steps, came to a stop in front of them and saluted.

“Welcome home Major O’Neill.”

“Thank you Sir, It’s good to be home.”

He watched Sara over the shoulders of the officers, she looked like she was crying, wiping the tears on her hands as she waited.

What had he done to her?

He needed her to be his focus, now more than ever before.

“I think Major that you have been away from your family for far too long, why don’t you go and say hello to your wife?  Anything we have to discuss can wait.”

“Yes Sir, Thank you Sir.” Jack’s response was automatic; his mind was swimming, swirling with thoughts and emotions.

As he limped away past the other officers he hardly noticed that they all saluted him as he passed.

Sara looked at the figure in the plane doorway.

That can’t be Jack

He’s so thin

Looking harder she knew that it was him. By the way he stood and the way that, despite his limp, he walked.

It was him.

As he drew closer she was shocked to see just how thin he looked, almost frail, just how loosely his uniform hung from his body.

 Tears fell at the sight of him.

Oh baby!

What have they done to you?

My poor baby.

Angrily she wiped the tears from her eyes with her hand. Just as on the day he left she had vowed that he wouldn’t see her cry.

She watched as he stopped briefly in front of the other officers, she couldn’t make out the words that were exchanged but she noticed that his eyes never left her.  They never left her as he started to walk slowly and painfully towards her.

She couldn’t wait for him to reach her, couldn’t let him suffer taking another step and so she started in his direction. She walked the first few steps and then she ran, she ran into his arms nearly knocking him off his feet as she did so.

She flung her arms around him, hardly noticing the slight gasp of pain that escaped his lips as she did so.  She looked into his face, past the scars and the lines of pain, past the dark circles and the pale skin and into his eyes. The deep fathomless pools of the darkest brown imaginable and she could no longer hold back her tears.

“Jack.” her voice no more than a whisper “Oh God Jack it’s really you, you’re here, you’re really here.”

She leant in and kissed him gently like she was afraid he would break or worse, disappear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Jack watched as Sara walked and then ran towards him, he tried to suppress the gasp of pain when she threw her arms around him and his still broken ribs flared at the contact. He braced himself with his good leg as she hugged him tightly, holding back the wave of agony that suddenly pulsed through him.

Carefully and without total conviction he returned her embrace, letting her kiss him, watching her tears fall listening to her words.

He couldn’t return those words – not yet.

He lifted her head and looked at her tear stained face, beaming broadly back at him.

His heart broke, weighed down with guilt and anguish for what he had done and what he had so nearly done.

I don’t deserve you.

You don’t know what I did – what I chose to do.

I don’t deserve you.

My love.

His voice cracked as he spoke, “I’m here and now I want to get out of here.  Let’s just go home, please.”

“Sure, Charlie can’t wait for you to get back.”

She took her arms from around him and took him by the hand, helping him, supporting him on the long slow silent walk to the car.

Jack sat quietly in the car trying to sort through his emotions, Sara was sensitive to his needs, and she just held his arm and caressed his hand. Jack had always had quiet times when he needed his own space, his own time and so she knew what to do.

The trip back to the house was short, shorter than Jack would have liked or wanted.

They got out of the car and waited until it had driven away.

“Do you want me to tell Charlie or should we surprise him?”

The choice was made for them.  Charlie had been watching out of the front window from the moment Sara had left the house. As the car drew up he watched as Sara and Jack got slowly from it and, before it had fully drawn away, he was out of the house and running down the porch steps.

“Dad,  Dad!”

He flung himself at Jack, unaware of his injuries, caught up in the moment.  Jack grimaced as Charlie barreled into him and grabbed him tightly around his waist.

He could feel Charlie’s damp face as he pressed it against him.

“You’re home!”

Jack reached down and tousled Charlie’s fair hair.

“I promised I’d come back didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question, more a reiteration of the promise they had made all those months ago.

Jack’s emotions had been knocked for six.  At the sight of first his wife and then his cherished son accepting him back, welcoming him back with unrequited love the guilt he felt inside welled up.

How could he have wanted to die when this perfect love was waiting for him?

How could he have even contemplated death over life when he had this precious family relying on him?

And yet when the questions and the pain and the despair had taken everything he had, he had chosen to die.

He deserved to die – for what he had done and for what he had wanted to do.

He had been weak and selfish and now he hated himself more than he had ever done.

Jack took his hand from Charlie’s head and taking his arm pushed him away.

“Dad?  What’s wrong Dad, aren’t you glad to be home?”

“Sure I am Charlie, I just need….”

What?

“Your Dad just needs a little time on his own now Charlie. Why don’t we go inside?” She took Charlie’s hand and started to lead him back into the house.

He went reluctantly, looking over his shoulder to where Jack stood, unable to understand why his Dad had pushed him away, why he didn’t seem to be pleased to be home, why he looked so sad.

“Mom, is Dad OK?”  He asked as they walked away.

I don’t know.

Is he?

“He’ll be fine sweetheart, he’s been away a long time.”

She too looked back at Jack. He stood where they had left him, still staring at the house with the unfocused look of a man who didn’t really know… or care?  She watched as he scrubbed a tired hand across his face and then walked slowly away towards the garden, stopping frequently to ease his still battered body.

“He just needs time to get used to being back at home with us. Ok?”

Charlie wasn’t sure he understood but if his Mom said it would be ok then it would be.

“Sure Mom. It’s good to have him home isn’t it?”

I hope so.

“Yes it’s great sweetheart.  Let’s go inside and get some dinner ready for your Dad. What do you think he’d like?”

“Ice cream.”

They carried on into the house, lost in their discussion about what to get for dinner. Despite the distraction of keeping Charlie from asking too many questions, questions to which she didn’t have any answers, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really wrong with Jack, something deep inside him.

Jack had finally reached his favorite spot in the garden, a small bench tucked away to one side. He had sat here on many occasions watching Charlie playing on the lawn, enjoying the sunshine.

He sat down wearily, his leg and his chest and his heart all ached, he had maybe done too much too soon. He rubbed his knee to try and ease the pain but he knew that it wouldn’t work; it wouldn’t work because the pain he felt was more than just physical. It was the pain of a man who had nearly lost everything and now, when he had it all back, he didn’t know if he wanted it.

He looked around the neat garden thinking that Sara had done a good job of keeping it tidy while he had been away.  He looked up at the house.  It had once been his home.  Could he make it so again?

He closed his eyes as his mind filled with memories, they fought within him, pulling at his emotions.  He tried to focus on the good memories, the ones that were from a time before Iraq.  That time had been filled with laughter and love, not like now.

Now tears pricked at his eyes as the images of his rape, torture, and humiliation ran like an endless piece of broken film in his head. He couldn’t stop them, he didn’t know how to stop them, he didn’t know if he wanted to stop them.  They had made him who he was.

The tears fell.

Jack sat in the garden until the sun had begun to dip below the horizon. He had long ago ran out of tears to cry and now he just sat and stared at the house, the garden, the things that he had once taken for granted.

The things he wanted to be able to take for granted again.

He wanted to hear laughter and to laugh again.

He wanted to love again and to be loved again.

He wanted to live again.

Was he going to let the instigators of his hell take those things from him as well?

They had taken everything he had, everything he was, but he wasn’t going to let them take everything he still had to be.

Was he?

I may have deserted you…but I was scared.

I did it to save you.. from having to see me like that.

The nothing man that I had become.

I hated them and I hated me but I always loved you.

You and Charlie.

I still love you.

But…

Me?

I still hate me.

And you… you still love me.

Why?

You don’t know what I did – that’s why.

And if you never know.

Then maybe…

I can really love you too.

Jack looked once more toward the house, he saw Sara silhouetted against the window as she watched him. He saw her turn away and then appear at the back door, she started down the garden to him.

It’s now or never – Jack.

Time to choose.

Live or die.

He got up and walked to meet Sara.

“Dinner’s ready Jack.”

“Listen Sara, thanks for this afternoon with Charlie.”

“It’s OK Jack, he’s just glad you’re back, we both are.  He’ll be fine, you know what kids are like.”

She held out her hand to him.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Gratefully he took her hand and let her help him into the house. The cool of the evening had made him stiff and his joints ached.  He tried to hide the flashes of pain that crossed his face as he walked, but she saw them and he knew she had.

“You alright Jack?“

“Yea, just stiff and tired.  It’s been a long day.”

Sara knew he was lying.

Jack knew he was lying.

They both knew the other knew, but they chose not to say anything as they made their way back into the house.

**********

For the next few days Jack and Sara and Charlie tried hard to act as if nothing was wrong. They talked about what Charlie had done in school and planned their next vacation. They talked about trips to the beach and the zoo and the ball games.  They talked about everything except what was really important.

Each day a car was sent for Jack and he went onto the base.  He had further debriefings and meetings about what he could and couldn’t say, to the press, other air force personnel and even to his wife.

 He had regular appointments with physiotherapists and consultations with doctors to help his healing process.

Every night the car took Jack home, where Sara would ask him about his day and if there was anything he wanted to talk about.

The answer was always the same:

“My day was fine and no there is nothing else I want to talk about.”

Sara was getting more concerned about Jack as the days passed. He didn’t talk beyond polite conversation, he hardly ate anything, she knew he wasn’t sleeping.  They did nothing more intimate than hold hands, she kissed him and he never returned her kisses.  She told him she loved him, he never replied. She expressed her concerns to the doctors, they said she needed to give him more time and more space to adjust.  After all, he had been imprisoned for 4 months and only home a few days.

She knew there was more to it than that.

Charlie too was aware of the change in his Dad, he never laughed anymore and he always seemed to be quiet and sad. He never wanted to play ball or go to the park, he wasn’t interested in helping Charlie fix up his bike. Charlie was scared of him now, his mood seemed to change quickly and he would storm off to the garden or lock himself away in the spare room. Charlie thought he had heard him crying through the locked door, but his Dad had never cried before.

He wasn’t Dad anymore.

Jack tried to adjust to family life again, he really did, but he knew it was all just a sham, a façade and, until he could face his inner demons, that was all it could ever be.

Whenever Sara or Charlie got too close to the wall he had built around himself, he would retreat back to the safe warm embrace of his memories.  To the things he knew to be true, his betrayal of them and of himself, his pain and his hatred.  With every memory he tried to push them further away from him, to a place where he could no longer hurt them.

They kept coming back and he kept pushing them away, eventually something would have to give.

Another night.

Another nightmare.

These were different to those he had in the hospital, but they were always the same.

Night after night.

He was back in Iraq, being tortured again and again. The scene changed and he was watching Sara and Charlie being tortured by the gray-haired man. A glass window separated them and, while he couldn’t hear their screams, he could see their pain, almost feel it. He hammered on the window, shouting at them and at the gray-haired man.  No words came out. Eventually the gray-haired man turned to face him and he found himself staring back at himself. He was torturing his own family.

That was the point at which he would jerk awake, a scream on his lips his body covered in sweat. After the first few nights he had stopped sharing a bed with Sara, preferring to sleep alone in the spare room with only his nightmares for company.

He hated to look at himself in the mirror, to see the slowly fading souvenirs of his time in Sijn al-Tarbout, the bruises were now all gone but the scars were still evident, on his face, his chest, his back.  Every one of them a still vivid reminder of what had been done to him. Sleeping alone spared Sara those sights and spared him from facing up to them and what they stood for.

Tonight the nightmare had been worse than usual, more intense and had left him with a raging headache. As quietly as he could he stepped from the spare room and made his way toward the bathroom, a couple of the painkillers the doctor had prescribed him should do the trick. He saw the light was on in Charlie’s room and he could hear Sara’s voice quietly soothing over the sounds of a child sobbing.

“Shh now sweetheart it’s going to be alright.  I’m here now.”

He cautiously peered around the door and was greeted with the sight of Charlie held tightly in Sara’s arms, his head pressed to her chest whilst he cried against her. Neither of them seemed aware of his presence, he felt a stab of guilt as he watched this precious moment.  Guilt that he was watching but more that he was the cause.

Charlie’s shoulders shook as he cried.

 “What’s wrong with Dad, Mom?  Why doesn’t he love me anymore? What have I done wrong?”

I wish I knew.

I wish I could make it right again.

I wish he would let me in.

“Oh Charlie, you haven’t done anything wrong.  While your Dad was away some very bad men tried to hurt him and he needs some time to get better.  We have to help him get better.”

“But he’s home why isn’t he better now?  The bad men aren’t here are they Mom?”

Sara wished for all the world that the childlike simplicity of Charlie’s world, his logic, could just be transferred to the real world.  Then everything would be better.

“No, the bad men aren’t here sweetheart.”  She ruffled his hair they way that she had seen Jack do a million times… before.

“I think your Dad just needs us to be strong for him and we can do that can’t we?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

For a moment the room was silent apart from the sniffling of a scared little boy who couldn’t really understand what was happening.  He couldn’t understand why anybody would want to hurt his Dad, and why his Mom still cried when she thought she was alone.

“Will the bad men come back?”

“No, they’re gone now, they won’t be coming back.”

Jack wished that were true.  They had captured most of the guards and interrogators from the prison and Kamil was dead, there was no way that Jack would forget that moment, but what of the man who drove him to this dark place? The man who drugged him and tricked him and almost made him die?

Where was he?

Jack couldn’t listen to anymore so, before he was spotted, he moved silently away and after grabbing the pain-killers returned to his lonely night time ritual of trying to keep the nightmares at bay long enough to sleep.

The following day Jack was in a foul mood. His headache still raged and he was snappy with everybody. Sara and Charlie tried to keep out of his way as he groused at everything, the food, the weather, the fact he still had to go to the base and do these dumb exercises. Nothing seemed to please him.

Jack was taking out the guilt he felt at overhearing Sara and Charlie in the night on everybody except himself.  He knew he had no right to, but he couldn’t stop himself. They were to blame for making him feel guilty – right?

Jack was sat in the kitchen, playing with a plate of food and scowling when Charlie came running in. He had been out playing with his friends and had forgotten about the mood his Dad was in.

“Dad, guess what Tommy and I did?  We built a den in Tommy’s garden, it’s cool Dad.  Do you want to come and see it?”

In his enthusiasm he was shouting and grabbed Jack by the arm. That was just enough to tip Jack over the edge of his black mood.  He pushed Charlie away with more force than was absolutely necessary.

“No Charlie I don’t want to see your stupid den.”

He stood up and stormed from the kitchen, oblivious to the ache in his leg and the sound of his own heart breaking.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?  Both of you just leave me alone.”

And with that he was gone, out into the garden leaving a bewildered child crying over something he couldn’t begin to understand.

He stormed to his usual spot and slumped down wearily. His headache was getting worse by the second, it pounded in time with the beating of his heart.

Why wouldn’t it stop?

Why couldn’t he find peace?

Why?

He held his head in his hands, his eyes closed against the incessant thumping. The thoughts that ran through his mind were a confusing jumble of memories and wishes, hopes and dreams, nightmares and visions from all through his life.  He tried to catch the wishes and dreams but all he managed to get hold of were the nightmares and the vivid recollections of a time he would rather forget.

The images were strong, so strong they were almost real. They pulled him down deeper and deeper into the black pit of his soul, into a place that he didn’t want to be…ever again.

He was sliding, slipping away from reality with every fresh anguished thought that fought its way into his pain filled head.

The reality of now and the nightmare of then just became one swirling mass inside him until he didn’t know which was real and which just a viciously twisted memory.

He grabbed hold of his body to still the tremors that grew as the nightmare visions of his imprisonment took over. Then he was back, back in the cool dark cell.  Back at the mercy of a man who wanted to break him, to destroy him, to kill him.

Sara had heard the commotion in the kitchen and arrived after Jack had stormed out to find Charlie, once more in tears. This time her soothing words and actions failed to stem his tears and he ran to his room.  She shrugged back her own tears as she heard him sobbing all the way upstairs until he slammed his door shut.

She was mad at Jack, at what he was doing to her and Charlie, at how he seemed hell bent on destroying what was left of their life together.

Damn you Jack.

Can’t you see what you’re doing to us?

I’m not going to wait around until you finally destroy yourself and us with you.

No sir!

I.. we… love you too much for that.

So I’ll fight for you and with you until we beat this thing.

Until you love us back.

She knew where he would be and went out into the garden to face whatever Jack was facing, to be by his side when he decided that he needed her.

She watched him for a while as he battled his demons and lost. She watched as he hugged himself as if supporting his body, his head was tipped back and, as the tears fell, she watched him mumbling to himself as if reciting something that was important to him.

Her heart broke to see him like and she had no idea what she could do to help him or even if he would let her, but the one thing that she was certain of was that she had to try. She just had to.

Slowly and quietly she approached him, he was completely unaware of her, engrossed as he was in his own private nightmare.

She could make out some of what he was saying but other words sounded like a foreign language.

“O’Neill.  Jonathon.  Major United States Air Force  66-789-7876-324.”  He paused.  “Saédni <help me>.”   Another pause, but the tears still flowed.

“Mn Fadlek balach    laa <Please don’t  No>.

O’Neill  Jonathon   Major United States Air Force   66-789-7876-324.”

Sara couldn’t begin to imagine what Jack had gone through in the months of his captivity, what they might have done to him to make him behave the way he was.

Stealing herself for what was to come she came and sat beside Jack, he remained unaware of her presence, hugging his body and crying through closed lids.

“Tawakaf ... Men Fadlek   tawakaf < Stop… please   stop>.”

Gently she took hold of his arm.

 “Jack?  Jack it’s me it’s Sara.”

No reaction.

She took him into her arms, pulling him to her, forcing him to acknowledge her presence.

“Jack you’re safe now. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore Jack.”

She felt the tension in his body like an elastic band stretched to its breaking point. Slowly she kissed him, first his forehead and then his tear stained cheeks. She ran her fingers over his lips.

“Shh now baby, everything is going to be alright.  You’re safe now, safe at home with me and Charlie.”

She kissed him again, this time harder, more forcefully as if by this simple action she could break whatever seemed to possess him.

Jack was aware of nothing more than his return to hell.  It hurt so much he had to back in hell. Didn’t he?

Arms were holding him, stopping him from moving from fighting back, he felt the brush of lips on his face.

Kamil ?

He heard the soft whisper of a voice, a voice he knew that he should know. A voice that didn’t belong in his nightmare, and if it didn’t belong then it couldn’t be real. It was just another trick.

Oh God.

Another trick.

Not again.

I can’t…..

The whispered voice was back, telling him everything was alright, telling him it was going to be OK, telling him it loved him.

What did the voice want really?

The voices had always wanted something from him.

What now?

I have nothing more to give you.

Nothing.

Leave me… let me die.

“Let me die. Please.” The words were on his lips almost before the thoughts had finished.

Sara held him tighter her own tears now mingling with Jack’s.  Her dreams of a happy homecoming and a normal family life were now in tatters, torn apart by whatever horror Jack had been through.  Whatever horror he still couldn’t let go.

“No Jack, I won’t let you die. I won’t let you just give up.  Damn you Jack you have to fight this, you have to let me help you to fight this. How can I help you Jack, tell me..tell me?”

That voice, that voice he should know kept penetrating Jack’s thoughts insisting he did something, something to save himself. What could he do, his body was broken, his mind was confused and in turmoil, but yet his spirit, his essence, his will to live was still with him.

The things that made him Jack O’Neill were still inside him. Maybe they were buried deep, away from the pain and the hurt, away from the prying eyes of those who would seek to possess them but they were still there.

The gentle voice at his ear held the promise of those things and it told him to go and find the things that made him Jack O’Neill.

His wife.

His son.

They were what made him who he was.

They were the purpose and the meaning in his life.

At least they had been… once.

Slowly Jack opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see.  Afraid to find that once more it was a trick and he was still trapped in a downward spiral of pain, a spiral that could only end in his death.

He saw Sara, he felt her arms around him and her heard her whispered words encouraging him.  He could smell her perfume as she kissed him again, that was too real.

It had to be real.

His mind was still clouded with images and Sara didn’t fit in any of them so why was she there?

 “Sara?” He blinked away the tears and found she was still there. “What? Why?”

He couldn’t form the questions that now plagued his mind, scared that the answers might prove his final undoing.

What are you doing here?

Why are you here?

You don’t belong in this place.

Or maybe…

I don’t belong in this place.

“Jack.. my love. Let me help you Jack, tell me what to do.  Let me help you.” Her voice was cracked with emotion and the tears still fell as she watched the man she loved struggling to keep a grasp on his life.  On their life together.

The wall that Jack had carefully constructed around him, the one that made it so he didn’t have to face up to what he had done, was failing.  The façade was crumbling and he didn’t know how to stop it. This woman, this woman that he had once loved and wanted to love again was breaking down the barriers between them.  He was scared; if he started how could he stop himself from showing her the darkest parts of himself, the parts that even he didn’t look at?

Nobody deserved to see that part of him and yet Sara was pushing, insisting, demanding he gave her everything. It was the only way to save his soul, but would it be the destruction of hers?

“Talk to me Jack, tell me what happened to you, what they did to you.  Tell me so I can help you.  Please Jack, please let me help you.”

He wanted to tell her, he wanted to let her inside the high walls around him, he wanted to let her help him. He just couldn’t.

He couldn’t let her soul be damned along with his – it wouldn’t be fair. He had been to the place of darkness and death and it was nowhere he wanted to share, especially with the woman he loved.

“I can’t tell you, I really can’t, and believe me you don’t want to know.  You don’t deserve to know, nobody does.”

His voice was a mere whisper.

Neither of them had noticed that Charlie now stood nearby. Clutched in his hand was his favorite teddy bear.  Sara and Jack had bought it for him when he was born and even now he still slept with it.  When Sara had suggested that maybe he was too old for a teddy, he told her that it helped him keep the bad things away.

Slowly he approached them, the bear clasped tightly to his chest, he didn’t stop until he was right beside them. He took a deep breath and pushed the teddy bear in Jack’s direction.

“Dad, I want you to have my teddy bear.  He helps keep the bad things away from me when I’m asleep, maybe he can help you.”

Having said his piece he turned and ran off, not knowing what reaction his actions would cause.

For Jack this one single unselfish gesture, born of the love of a child was the final act.

As he held the teddy and unconsciously stroked its soft fur, the enormity of what he was doing crashed around him like the surf breaking on their favorite beach.

The final pieces of the wall around his heart and his emotions just crumbled away.

“Charlie, Charlie come here son…please.”

Jack called after him, stopping him in his tracks. Charlie turned and looked at where his parents sat.  Sara still had her arms around Jack and he was holding the teddy bear in one hand his other arm outstretched waiting for him.  He made his way to them and was embraced by firstly Jack and then Sara.

They were a family again, maybe not quite like they had been but at least it was a start.

Jack knew it would be a long and difficult road for all of them but if they were to stand any chance of getting their lives back then it was a difficulty they would have to face.

Together.

He knew then that even in his darkest times and even in the dark times that he was sure were still to come there was one unassailable fact. That fact had given him strength before and it would give him strength again.

Sara and Charlie still loved him and they would always love him.

*******

Oh yet we trust that somehow good will be the final goal of ill

   Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Epilogue:

Several Months Later

Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps Andrew Harriman once more straightened the jacket of his number one dress uniform, brushing off invisible and non – existent specks of dust and for the final time placed his cap at the required angle.  A last glance in the mirror and he was done.  Pulling on his gloves he picked up his rifle and made his way to join his comrades.

I have the BEST job he thought as the group of Marines began their short march through the grounds of the White House. They took up positions at all the external entrances and inside at the doors to the Oval Office and the state room, where today the President was holding a reception for the heroes of the recently ended Gulf conflict.

Harriman’s recall from the Gulf had been as swift as it was unexpected. One day he was on patrol in the dangerous northern Iraqi desert, the heartland of Saddam’s supporters, the next he was packing for his return to the USA.

On his return he had been called into see his Commanding Officer who had told him that due to his bravery and dedication to duty during his tour of duty he was to be promoted to Sargent Major of the Corp and reassigned.  His final posting was to be the one that all the Marines dreamed of:

Ceremonial duties in the presence of their Commander In Chief.

Andy didn’t know why he, amongst all the soldiers he had served with in the Gulf, should have been chosen. He had seen other acts of bravery and heroism far greater than his, and wondered if they too had been recognized.

He stood smartly at attention outside the huge doors to the stateroom, as the President’s invited guests began to arrive.  Along with top Generals and Admirals were a mixture of other officers and enlisted men, representing all the branches of the armed forces.  They mingled around discussing military matters in hushed tones as they waited for their Commander-In-Chief to appear.

Harriman noticed a lone figure walking slowly down the hallway towards the stateroom.  The figure was dressed in Air Force Blues and walked with a noticeable limp. Even at a distance Harriman though there was something familiar about the man, about the way he walked and the way he stood but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The figure slowly made its way closer and closer to the stateroom, stopping every now and again to rest.

Stopping to rest!

That was what made Harriman realize why he thought the figure looked familiar. He had witnessed that action before, as he had supported a broken body fighting for dignity in the dry barren confines of an Iraqi prison.

It couldn’t be?

Could it?

Harriman had not thought about Major O’Neill in a long time. After he had watched him taken away to safety, he had returned to his unit and was all too soon once more involved in the ongoing hunt for Saddam. He had enough to think about keeping himself and those under his command alive to worry much about the fate of Major O’Neill.

But now, as the figure finally came into vision he realized that it was Major O’Neill, he knew that although he may not have thought about him in a long time he would never forget him and what had been done to him. Harriman had sent more than one enemy soldier to the arms of his God purely on the strength of what he had seen in that prison hell.

The officer looked a hell of lot better than when Harriman had last seen him, he was no longer gaunt and battered although his face still bore the tell tale signs of a man who was still not quite at peace with himself or those around him. It was obvious from his limp that he still carried the physical signs of his time in prison. Andy felt sorry for him, sorry that he couldn’t have done more to help him.

For Jack O’Neill this reception was an ‘honor’ that he could have lived without. He hated being the ‘POW who survived 4 months in prison’; he just wanted to be Jack O’Neill, Air Force officer.  He hated the looks of pity that crossed peoples faces as he limped towards them, as he was forced again and again to listen to the tales of how he was a hero, how he fought the brutal regime and survived, how he never gave up hope.

They really don’t know – do they?

He just wanted to get back to picking up the pieces of his life. It had been hard, almost impossible to lead a normal life since his return from the Gulf.  It had almost driven him to the brink of despair again, almost lost him his wife and child.

Almost.

Things were better now, the media circus was abating and Jack hoped that this would be the last time he would have to listen to and tell all those lies about what had happened during those four long months in hell.

His knee still troubled him and, as he stopped to rest, he noticed for the first time the Marine Sergeant standing at the state room door.

He looks like…

It can’t be…. can it?

He started walking this time a little quicker, ignoring the protests from his still aching knee, he had to know. Was this the man who saved him? Stopping by the door, he glanced at the Marines name tag:

Harriman.

It is you.

What should I say?

What can I say?

Harriman hadn’t moved a muscle, although deep down inside he felt proud, proud that he had helped to save this man.

Jack looked at Andy and smiled.

“Sergeant Major…,. Harriman … congratulations.”

“Thank you Sir.”

“No. Don’t thank me.. I .. well I.”   Jack suddenly felt all tongue tied, he had so much he wanted to say to this man and yet he couldn’t think of anything to say.

He wanted to thank him for saving him, for not giving up on him when he was ready to give up on himself, for taking care of him and most importantly for keeping his promise to get him out of the hell he was in.

“I don’t know if I said this before but thank you, for everything you did for me, you know.. out there.”

“You did Sir, but thank you. I’m glad you made it Sir.”

“So am I, so am I.”

Jack could think of nothing more to say, but he had one more thing to do. Drawing himself up to his full height, he gave Sergeant Major Harriman his best parade ground salute.

“I’ll never forget what you did for me.”

He dropped the salute and, as he made his way towards the other officers and men he felt stronger and more able to face their questions because once more the rock that was Andrew Harriman was beside him.

“Lieutenant Colonel O’Neill.”

Jack turned at the sound of his name, an Air Force General he knew by sight was approaching him, flanked by about half a dozen other senior officers.

Jack came swiftly to attention.

“As you were.  Now these gentlemen are dying to hear about your experiences in the Gulf.”

Jack smiled inwardly to himself.

One more time.

“Well Sir….”

**********

In a small apartment on the outskirts of Baghdad a gray-haired man was also smiling, but for a completely different reason.

He looked down at the dog eared and creased photo that he had carried with him every day since he had fled from the desert prison of Sijn al-Tarbout.

The photo was of a battered and bleeding man, pain and despair on his face, tears in his eyes.

The photo was of Major Jonathon O’Neill, the only man that he had never broken.

He lit a cigarette and then, taking the match he set fire to the photo and watched as it burnt down to nothing more than a pile of blackened ash.

He didn’t need the photo any more he knew what Jonathon O’Neill looked like, how he sounded when he spoke, who his family were.

 He knew everything he needed to know.

There was a knock on his door, glancing at his watch, he knew it was time.

He picked up his fake Syrian passport and his plane tickets, checking them one last time.

Miami Florida, via Paris and then London.

He smiled again, stubbed out his cigarette, picked up his suitcase and left.

There was nobody he couldn’t break.

********