Chapter Text
Comfortably numb (Pink Floyd)
Military hospital
Jack O'Neill was glad to get out of the house, but hated the idea of being *here * even more. The physical therapy was a given and something he'd done many times before. But the 'other' was mandatory and he'd put it off long enough. Keep calm he told himself. Deep breaths. Although his knee brace had gone, and the sling for his shoulder was gone too he still wasn't allowed to drive. The indignity of a designated driver picking him up from home also made him mad with the world. Sara would have driven him without question, but she'd want to make small talk and fill in the silent gaps with chatter. He didn't want chatter. He needed space before and after his PT sessions and definitely after 'these' sessions.
God, but he was tired and hungry. Stop it. Don't. Don't think about food. Mouth-watering food. Not the muck he'd had over .don't * go * there. Too late, now he was thirsty. Always thirsty. The novelty of water any time, all the time. Not like stop it. Calm deep breaths. He read the nameplate again. 'Dr (Colonel) Stephen Marwood, Psychologist.' Like he hadn't already memorised every etched curve and straight line in the shiny brass .
He wasn't wacko, or at least he didn't think so. Looking back he remembered the confusion and bewilderment freedom had brought him. Confused, he lashed out at his rescuers and only told them his name rank and number like he'd told it a million times before. He wouldn't give them any other names, convinced it was all a trick. * They * injected him with something and when he woke up he seemed to be tied to a bed, attached to monitors and tubing.
So yes, maybe he'd gone a little nuts then.
After that everything was fuzzy and strange, like he was swimming under water. He was so tired and in pain all the time. He hung on desperately. He just wanted go home to his family. Days passed without him remembering details .They spoke to him but he couldn't process it. It was all too fast. He didn't understand what was going on or where he was. So he said nothing, and waited for an opportunity to escape. They told him he * was* back home, that everything was alright, that he was ill because of powerful infections. But he didn't believe them. Escape and finish the mission, that's all he had to do- then he could go home.
He struggled out of the bed, hanging on for life to IV poles and chairs with one hand. Geez but he looked like a mummy, bandages everywhere. Some sort of brace round his knee and part way round his back and right shoulder , thick padding on his feet . Shuffling slowly to the door and o pening it and peering out was a revelation. Maybe he was dreaming this after all, delirious like they'd told him? But this was a huge hospital, clean and bright, muted tones on the walls, overhead speakers calling doctors and making announcements. He clung to the door and edged out. People. Normal people, not in tunics and headscarves. American looking people. And many of them were in uniform, one or two wearing USAF T-shirts even. He swallowed hard.
Someone came towards him. Familiar but his mind refused to co-operate. "Jack!" it couldn't be, but it was. His friend, his nemesis, his traitor. Frank Cromwell. Frank reached for him but he backed away, lost his balance and all the pain and hurt surged up and he fell into blackness.
The second time Frank tried to see him at the hospital Jack hit him with his water jug. He'd almost fallen out of his bed going for his throat, machines beeping and wailing in the background, staff rushing in . It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and he hadn't changed his mind about that opinion since he'd got back home.
Jack sighed heavily, cleared his throat and picked at the seam of his pants, back in the here and now. The doc was going to try an open him up like a can opener. Let it all out. Wasn't going to happen. More like stick it in the pan and let it burn all to hell. * You can have everything you want, except what you want. *
He'd given them the abbreviated version in pieces at the first and second hospitals. He managed to be clear enough just to nod or shake his head , which was all he could at the time, round the dental surgery . He was pretty sure he hadn't told them anything he shouldn't despite the pain and drugs he'd been on at the time. So they'd had the basics- now they wanted infinite detail. They'd just have to be grateful with what he could give them. Almost but not quite everything. It was all he had. Some of the story was his to bear witness to and carry alone. They didn't need to know everything. He'd had to be strong to survive. Just one more door to go through, one more hoop to jump. He was a good soldier. This would be a piece of cake. Easy. But he knew he was lying to himself.
He sorted through his memory for solutions and techniques and reviewed his options again. Yup. Sure that this plan would fly. He could do this. A little at a time, enough to get them going. He knew he needed help but only on his terms. Be patient. Maybe he had a few issues and lost marbles, but that's what the doc was for right? His heart jumped as the door opened. Time for the games to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Major O'Neill, I'm just going to set a few ground rules okay?" His latest patient stared back at him. The doctor sat in one of the armchairs, a notepad open on his knee, pencil tucked into the spiral.
"Major, I'd like to hear you speak or at least nod so that I know you can hear me." He took the slight nod for what it was and continued.
"Nothing you do or say to me here in this room goes anywhere else unless I deem it a medical emergency. I am conversant with your history and I'm here to help you deal with what happened to you. I'm Colonel Marwood, but I'm also a fully qualified doctor in psychotherapy and psychology and I've been in the service for twenty three years. The door is shut but not locked and we can open the window for more air if you'd like. The fridge in the corner has water bottles if you need any."
The room was deliberately non threatening. More like a lounge with comfortable chairs, a couch and a coffee table. In one corner a desk was angled, with a phone and piled high in/out trays, Dictaphone on top and filing cabinets nearby. The pictures on the walls were not the usual military ones of planes and flags and the President, but gentle woodland forests and waterfalls instead.
Still getting no reaction the doctor got up and took a bottle of water from the fridge and placed it on the coffee table. His patient looked at it and then back at him , watching and waiting . The doctor continued to explain what the sessions were for, how long they'd last but he knew that O'Neill wasn't following him. He was lost in his thoughts far away, but every now and then he'd look at the condensation on the outside of the water bottle like a starving man. He wanted it but did not ask for it, nor did he just take it. He sat there tired, in pain and struggling to adapt to *normal* life now that he was back in the real world again. He didn't want to be there and it showed.
The next session a few days later a crack appeared and the doc lightly probed to see how deep the crack went and how to repair it without his patient shattering. O'Neill limped in, all spit and bravado when the doc could see how tightly reined in he really was. And in the end it was nothing the doctor did, O'Neill did it to himself.
"Okay start the clock doc. I'm all yours."
"Are you sure? You look ..."
"What? Had a tough PT session that's all." But the doctor noted the grimace of pain when O'Neill sat back against the comfortable chair.
"The therapy is supposed to get range of motion back not re injure you."
"I can handle a little pain doc."
"You don't have to, and you're not supposed to hurt that much after therapy."
"Thanks but I'll take the pain over any drugs of choice."
"Interesting answer. Why?"
"Because I've been through this before."
"Ah, yes the injuries you sustained when a parachute failed to open properly."
"Oh yeah. That." The doc noticed that O'Neill really did look drained and in fact was beginning to struggle to stay awake.
"Tell me how you got through that."
"Why?"
"Humour me."
"I just picked myself up, buried the chute best I could. Used some for bandages and headed out. No idea what happened some of the time, but mostly I was just aiming to get the intel out, and then go home, one step at a time."
"Like in Iraq ?"
"If I could have walked home from there I would have doc. But they ...stopped me. They stopped us from doing our job."
"Who did?"
"You know! I already told you. I'm not telling you anything!"
"Why won't you tell me?"
"O'Neill, Jonathon, Major."
"Tell me what you see."
"No! O'Neill Jonathon, Major."
"Jack, you're not over there. You're home with your family, on the base. You got out. You made it home."
"No! Trick. Trap. Liar."
"Open your eyes if you don't believe me."
"You're the liar; I'm the one with the hood over my head and tied to the chair!"
"No you're not. Feel the chair you're sitting in. It's soft, comfortable isn't it? Open your eyes and see for yourself." His patient did open his eyes but he still wasn't seeing the here and now.
"Okay so you took the hood off."
"Would you like some water? I'm placing a bottle in your hand, you sound thirsty." No answer. O'Neill's hands refused to grip the bottle.
"Why won't you take the water?"
"O'Neill, Jonathon, Major. Think you can bribe me with the water?"
"Not really."
"It's still daylight."
"What has that to do with anything?"
"This is another trick right? Fool me into drinking without permission again?"
"What happened?"
"You know! We all know! We were all punished!"
"Just drink the water."
"No! Did you put salt in it again? It's too early, not dark yet."
The doctor went over to the window and pulled a dark blind down, muting the daylight.
"Is it okay now?" O'Neill looked round at the window and nodded.
"There's plenty of water in the fridge over there. New seals on them, never been opened before. Trust me."
O'Neill got up and slowly went to the fridge; he opened the door and stood looking at the contents for a long time. He reached in and held a bottle, struggled to open it and seemed to have difficulty using one arm. In the end he used his teeth on the plastic screw cap. After the first tentative sip he drank the whole bottle thirstily. And before the doctor could say anything he grabbed another and drank that. He leaned against the fridge breathing heavily. The doctor went over to him as he started to open the third bottle and slowly raised the blind on the window.
"Jack. It's okay to have the water whenever you want it- day or night okay? Just don't overdo it. The cleaning services really hate getting stains out of the carpet in here."
"Weren't we just talking about something else doc?" O'Neill put the bottle down abruptly.
"How's the water Major?"
"Ah. It's fine, what time is it?"
"We still have a few minutes left. Finish your water."
"I've had enough thanks. I'll save this for later".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Love is a battlefield (Pat Benetar)
"Take Charlie swimming .you promised you'd take him."
"Not today I don't feel like it."
"You need to get off the couch Jack. That bad cold and cough went ages ago."
"I don't want to go - alright."
"But he wants you to take him. You love swimming, he'd be better with you."
"No!"
"Why?"
"Because..."
"What?"
"You take him."
"But..."
"NO! I don't care. I'm not going. That's final." And he walked out of the house.
Sara was torn between anger and tears. Shit. She'd messed that one up. Too soon. She realised. What was she going to tell Charlie? Of course he wouldn't go swimming, you idiot, she berated herself, he doesn't even undress in front of you. He's not going to go around half naked in swim shorts for Charlie. If he didn't want to show his scars she couldn't make him. Not when he couldn't even acknowledge them to himself.
Sure he'd been ill after the storm and standing out in the rain. But it had taken longer than expected for him to recover and had left him lethargic and maybe a little depressed. He didn't seem to want to do anything. He'd sit in the garden but not look after it as he used to. He'd been looking forward to helping teach Charlie to swim; now he seemed reluctant. He'd go for physio at the hospital but had refused or ignored any attempts by other friends for light games of street hockey. Normally (ha, she laughed at herself) he'd jump at the chance. He drifted.
~~~~~~~~~~
Military hospital
"You seem angry today Major. Things okay at home?"
"Fine."
"How's Sara?"
"She's fine."
"And your son Charlie?"
"Look, he's fine too-can you leave them out of this?"
"Does Sara take Charlie swimming now?"
"Yes."
"You know it would be good for you as well, in addition to your therapies here.2
"Well it ain't gonna happen doc."
"Why not?"
"You know damn well why ,sir."
"But the water is chlorinated. It's a swimming pool Major, not a hose or a bucket or sink full of water. It won't taste the same. No one is going to force you to drink it or try and drown you. We've been through this before."
"Easy for you to say. What if I *lost* it? Not with my son, I can't ...Sara would ...."
"But you manage water therapy as part of your PT."
"That's different and you know it."
"Look- you'd be in the toddler pool with your son. You'd be quite safe. You'd be in control."
"You don't know that. What if ...?"
"Life is full of what if's. It's how you deal with them that matters."
"And we know how well I'm dealing I'll just leave it till I'm feeling better ."
"Better than what? Are you feeling bad, Major O'Neill?"
"Major O'Neill, please answer the question."
The door slammed shut and the doctor opened the patient's file, jotting down notes on the session concluding (not for the first time) with the words- patient terminated session.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heroes and villains- (the beach boys.)
"Frank! This is a surprise!" said Sara warily "Today might not be a good day "
"Hell Sara, none of them have been that great apart from when Jack touched down on US soil again..."
"Yeah."
"He in?"
"In back. You can try but don't say that I didn't warn you."
"That thing at the hospital was a while ago now "
"I heard all about it."
Jack was in the kitchen -it was time for his antibiotics and painkillers. He got the small bottles out, struggling with the childproof caps. He stopped and listened for a minute. Sara was fighting his battles for him like he wasn't there, invisible, useless dammit. Treating him like he was an invalid.
"Uncle Frank, unca Frank!" yelled Charlie.
"Charlie my boy, lookin' good !"
That did it. Jack limped as fast as he could round the side of the house to the front.
"Jack." said Frank uncertainly. Charlie's arms still wrapped round his neck.
"Charlie, come here now!"
"But unc Frank's here! We havin a barbeque daddy?"
"No. Go away Frank. Told you once. I never want to see you again."
"Jack, listen to me!"
"NO! I already heard plenty. Put my son down and walk away from me, my kid and my wife."
"Daddy?" Charlie didn't understand what was going on as Frank gently let him down.
"Sorry Charlie. I love you. . I tried to help your dad remember that."
Jack took two steps nearer, and Frank raised his hands in surrender.
"I'm going if that's what you really want, but under protest."
"I don't care."
Sara looked at Jack and back at Frank, torn. She stepped closer and gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek "You tried, he'll come round. Give it time. Take care Frank."
"You too."
"Don't go, unc a Frank!"
"Got my marching orders, son. I only stopped by anyway "
"Are you coming back?"
"I don't know, Charlie."
"Why not?"
"That depends on your dad," he glanced back at Jack who was still glowering at them all.
"Daddy, why can't unc Frank stay today?" but Jack didn't answer.
Frank knew he was only making things worse by staying. He turned round and walked back to his car.
Charlie followed him.
"Charlie, come back!" called Jack, and he set off across the grass after his son. But before he'd gone more than a step or two Sara asked him.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting Charlie."
"What are you're going to do? Drag him back?"
"So what DO you want me to do?"
"He's five years old, he doesn't understand why his Uncle Frank can't come round anymore just because you say so . If you can explain it to him, please tell me, I need to understand. This is hard for Frank and Nancy too."
"Seems like you care more about Frank's feelings, what happens to him or what he wants!" said Jack hotly. Frank heard and walked back towards the couple.
"That was a low blow, even for you Jack. Leave Sara out of it. Just you and me. Apologise to Sara or I will kick your ass - injured or not, you stupid son of a bitch."
Charlie unsettled by the yelling and byplay ran back to Sara's protection.
"I don't have to do anything you say, not since you left me for dead!" Sara got worried as the two men squared up to each other.
"I told you ,"
"Shut up!"
Fortunately the base hospital van arrived before it got ugly, and Sara hated ugly. They'd all forgotten it was his regular appointment at the base hospital for therapy. Jack felt embarrassed, especially as Frank was right there this time. The driver got out and opened the sliding door, waiting for Jack to get in.
"Looks like your ride is here, Jack," said Frank with a neutral face. He did not pity Jack, he just wanted him to get better so he could have his friend back.
"Like you care!" spat Jack, not moving an inch. "Six months and it still ain't fuckin'over! Don't you get it yet, Frank?"
"Okay, I'm going! No use talking to you when you're like this. Talk to me when you've calmed down." and Frank got in his car and drove away in a squeal of rubber.
"The hell I will!" Jack called after him before turning back to the house.
"Aren't you going?" Sara nodded towards the van
"No!"
"Jack, you have to go "
"Oh for crying out loud!" and he limped back to the van "Happy now?" he called as it drove off.
Sara spent the time until he came back trying to console Charlie. She was angry at Jack for hurting everybody. She understood his reasons but surely he could forgive? She had something else to be angry about when she went into the kitchen later. She waited for him to return. The wait was shorter than usual. She didn't pity him, she tried not to mollycoddle him, but she had to tell him about the pills.
She waited until he was inside the house and Charlie was playing in the garden out back before asking him how he was, as he slowly made his way to the couch. PT did him good but was painful and tiring. She filled a glass with water and placed it in front of him.
"Actually, I'm kinda wiped," he said as he picked up the glass.
"I'm not surprised, what with Frank turning up and then doing PT. Did you take your pills before coming out?"
"Yeah, I think ...oh..."
"You left them open on the counter in the kitchen. It's okay I put them away."
"Sara, I never meant to leave them out. I saw Frank out the front..."
"And you saw red, I know. And we agreed to have some medications downstairs as long as they were out of Charlie's reach."
"It won't happen again."
"I know it won't. Just thought I'd mention it."
"No wonder PT was such a pain in the ass today. I was supposed to take those pills." He started to get up.
"No- I'll get them, and more water. You're settled."
"I'm sorry, *really* sorry for what I said earlier. You don't deserve that from me- or anyone come to that. And about the pills. But as for Frank, I can't . Not yet, it's too soon like some other things. But I'm not giving in."
"It's not a matter of giving in. You've been back two and a bit months, Jack. Give it some time. What about Charlie? I've spoken to him but you need to talk to him too."
"I'll think of something."
"Can you talk to him soon before he thinks it's something he did?"
###########
Jack stirred on the lounger; he'd heard something inside the house. The something appeared at the corner of his vision. "Daddy." it said. He let out his breath.
"What's up kiddo, it's very late."
"Can't sleep, daddy."
"Oh."
"Mommy was asleep, an' you weren't there so I looked for you."
Charlie suddenly shivered, barefoot in his pj's.
"C'mere," Jack said, lifting the blanket he had, and his son scooted in, snuggling against his chest, all elbow and knees. But he was warm and real and right now his son needed him. Jack wrapped an arm round him and settled the blanket over them.
2You have a bad dream, Charlie?" he asked warily. He'd had that big final, very public, argument with Frank yesterday and he knew all about bad dreams. Charlie shook his head.
"What then?"
Charlie shrugged. "Why are you out here?"
"I couldn't sleep either and came out to look at the stars. It's a beautiful night."
Charlie peered at them too. 2Could you see them over there? Where you were?"
"Sometimes."
"Oh."
"I was in a different country not another planet; I just saw a slightly different part of the night sky."
"What about unca Frank, could he see your stars?"
"I guess so."
"Oh."
"Would it make you feel better that he could?" He felt Charlie nodding against his chest. "Then I'm sure he did."
"Did you see people hurting each other? Andy at school says there was a big battle and lots of people got killed. But I told him you were a pilot."
"That's right, I am a pilot, but sometimes I jump out of the plane and work on the ground. You remember I told you about the parachutes? I saw some fighting."
"Was Unca Frank where you were fighting?"
"Yes and three others."
"I know Unca Frank came home. What about the others, daddy? Were they with you?"
"No Charlie."
"Oh."
"It's okay."
"Where were they? Where did they go?"
"We almost lost one in the fight , but they made it back to the helicopter with Frank."
"What about you, daddy?"
" Got into a fight, got hurt ."
"Like when I felled off my bike an scraped my whole arm, daddy?"
"Kind of, but a lot, lot worse. Frank thought I was dead and there were more enemy soldiers on the way. He had to bug out."
"But you weren't dead, daddy, just hurt."
"I know, kiddo, but he thought I was."
"But he told us you were coming home ." Charlie was confused.
"Yes. He knows I'm okay now- he didn't then. He thought he did the right thing."
"Is that why you shouted at him yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"It wasn't anything *you* did or said. It's just something between Uncle Frank and me. I was surprised to see him and I got mad. You and your mom just happened to be there."
"So when can he come back to see us?"
"I really don't know."
"Oh." There was a pause. "So you got captured by the nemeny soldiers?"
"I did."
"Did you escape?"
"I tried, but they made it very hard to get away. That's why I was away so long. "Jack was trying valiantly to reconcile his own version of events with his small son's vision of being captured by pirates or smugglers on a deserted island. It was the only was he could understand the idea of capture and being held prisoner.
"Were you the only one there?"
"No, there were lots of others Why?"
"I didn't want you to be on your own."
Jack couldn't explain to his small son that he *had* been alone for most of the time; he was surrounded by others in the same situation. All trying to stay alive, all trying to get out one way or another.
"I thought about you every day." Jack murmured as he kissed Charlie's forehead.
"So did me and mommy."
Jack had forgotten the inquisitive mind of small children, leaping from one idea to another.
"I told my friend Andy you were a hero like Superman, and that's why you couldn't write or phone us while you were over there."
"Charlie you know I'm not Superman!"
2Why not? Mommy said you went there to help people."
"Your mom's right. But I'd never wear the cape and tights."
"Well I don't care, you're still mine!" said Charlie sleepily.
"Thanks buddy. And you're mine and your mom's always. That's why I came back."
"Did the stars help you find your way home?"
"In a way."
"Tell me. What's that one, daddy ?"
"The one that looks like a funny dog or the triangle one ."
"Don't be silly, daddy!"
Inside the house Sara sat at the bottom of the stairs and wiped her eyes before silently padding out to peer round the patio door at the sight of her husband and son wrapped together on the sun lounger pointing at the stars.