Silenced Screams

Chapter Eighteen


Struck speechless after the horrors Adam had been subjected to, silence reigned in the observation booth, everyone having difficulty processing the evil that had been revealed to them. Even Teal'c, who'd been witness to more suffering at the hands of the Goa'uld than any of them, was left without
words at the suffering Adam had endured. It was into that silence that Janet and Dr. McKenzie returned almost an hour later. No one had moved from their front row seat into the hell that had been Adam's life.

Approaching the booth, she was sure they were still in shock.

Janet's mind ran back to the morning and how she'd been searching so hard for a way to contribute to solving the problem still before them. She hadn't expected it to walk into her office and present itself to her. Sam had found her already hard at work when she arrived and had confided in her the
suspicions that had been bothering her since the Colonel's nightmares last night. She'd explained that the Colonel hadn't been willing to talk about them, but she was sure from the parts she'd been able to make out that he was reliving his captivity. But what had really been rolling around in her head was that many of the things she heard him mumbling last night she was sure she'd heard from Adam, and that had gotten her thinking. The two doctors crowded into the room to answer the questions they were sure everyone had.

"Jan, what was that? What just happened?"

Daniel was the first to speak. You could practically hear the plea in his voice that it be anything other than what it had seemed. Facing him, it was brought home to Janet again just how naive Daniel was in the real face of war on his own planet. It was so easy for him to believe that evil on that scale could only be perpetrated by villains such as the Goa'uld. The others in the room, to varying degrees, had already been exposed to those horrors.

"POW." Was all Sam said even before Janet could began to explain. "Prisoner of War." She expanded.

"Indeed." Teal'c agreed, his deep baritone voice somehow making it even more chilling than the whispered words Sam had just uttered.

"Yes." Janet confirmed, not that there'd been any doubt before. "I played a hunch after I spoke with you this morning." Janet said to Sam. "Even though Adam's records don't indicate a military background, it's the only reasonable explanation for his physical condition. I had meant to follow up on that discrepancy after his first examination, but it somehow became less important in the face of what we were dealing with at the time. And then I just forgot all about it. But after our conservation this morning I sent his blood and prints to military records. Nothing had come back on our initial search for an 'Adam Issac', but if that wasn't his real name, then it wouldn't. What I got back just before Adam's session confirmed my suspicion. Records did find a match. His prints and blood came back a match to a 'Joe Turner' listed deceased in 1973. It wouldn't be the first time records were incorrect, most likely just some clerical error." Janet finished.

No one had really noticed how quiet Jack had been throughout everything, until he finally spoke up.

"The records aren't wrong. Joe Turner died in 1973."

The dead calm with which his made that statement left no room for doubt. And if the voice alone hadn't been enough proof, one look at his face confirmed its truth.

No one who knew Jack ever doubted that the mask he wore hid a multitude of life's horrors. But what they saw now hinted at a depth of pain and sorrow that would dwarf what they'd just witnessed from Adam. Jack held their stares for several heartbeats before he slowly rose and left the room. He knew it would appear to everyone that he was simply being pigheaded and stubborn and that worked just fine for him. They need never know of the internal battle being fought, a battle that even with all of his years of fighting he was losing. It had taken every ounce of will he'd amassed over his life to keep his mask in place and not allow them to see the toll these past few hours had taken on him. He was sure if he'd moved one second later it would've all come spilling out of him. All the dark secrets, the fears, the pain, the sorrow; the scars that even thirty years later had not begun to heal.

He made his escape, hoping and praying he could go some place solitary to bleed out all the nightmares ripping his soul to shreds. But that would only give ground to his enemy and show the weakness he was trying so hard to bury again. Falling back on habit, habit built over the years for just such occasions, he marched through the halls of the SGC with his same measured steps and calm air of total indifference as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Sam had been the first to rise after Jack undramatic exit. Even if the others hadn't seen, she knew the weight he was carrying. But before she could make more than a single step Janet's voice reached her.

"Sam."

A single word spoken only sightly above a whisper carrying understanding and a more level head than she'd ever be able to claim. She understood the wisdom of allowing him his space, in her head, but her heart fought a battle that said she could ease the pain if only he'd let her. After fighting this same battle yesterday she knew her offer was not the answer, but it didn't stop the need to try.


The others had sensed the struggle and politely chosen to allow them privacy, leaving only the two women to settle the matter. A conversation that encompassed a million words and even more emotion was fought in the space of a heartbeat and with only a single look before the women too, followed the men from the room.

The day dragged on, duties were performed, test were run, reports were written and the day drew to a close. Grudgingly Sam had to agree with Janet's evaluation and Jack's need for space. Staying on base for the night would allow him time and privacy to deal with his demons as he'd always done.

It was a testament to his internal struggle that Jack had not even given thought to Sam's arrangement for the night. Leaving the base for home with only a single detour before breathing a sigh of relief when he was once again safe behind closed doors. The cold and chill seems to soak through his bones stealing away any warmth he been given in recent years. He moved about his house on automatic pilot lighting a fire and going about a routine as ingrained as every other part of his life.

He had no idea how long he'd been seating in his living room staring into the roaring fire when be became aware of a second presence in the room.

"You know most people actually lock their doors at night. It works so much better that way." Dixon said as he made himself comfortable in Jack's large recliner.

"Thought I'd just save myself the trouble of getting up when well meaning friends drop by uninvited" Jack replied without ever taking his eyes from the fire.

"Yeah well, if you'd invite a guy every once in a while I wouldn't always have to be 'uninvited'. Besides, who else would come to see ya?" Dixon shot back.

"Nobody if they know what's good for them." A second voice answered, closing the door behind him as he made his way down into the living room and made himself at home. Harlem gave a short nod to Dixon.  "Dix ... how's it hanging?"

The men fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. "You do realize those things work better when you mix 'em." Harlem pointed out, eying the still sealed bottle of Scotch sitting in front of Jack and the glass of slowing melting ice.

It wasn't long before the three buddies were laughing and swapping old war stories, most embarrassing moments and memories of their youth and innocences.

"...and how was I supposed to know she was the constable's daughter? You conveniently neglected to mention that fact when you dared me to kiss her." Jack complained good-naturedly.

"Hey, is it my fault you didn't do a little recon before waltzing up to her in a full bar and sweeping her into your arms and laying one on her that had her face disappearing for a week." Dixon defended before both men broke into laughter at Jack's expense.

"He didn't!" Harlem exclaimed between bouts of laughter.

"Oh but he did. Won the bet and the whole pot we had on the table that night" Dixon explained, still with a glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, fat lot of good it did me. It wasn't enough to get me out of jail though, was it? I barely made it back to base before roll call thanks to you." Jack whined, but able to see the humor all these years later.

"And what about you Dix? Ever get caught with the constable's daughter, or anyone else's daughter for that matter?" Harlem asked when he could breathe again.

"Hell no. Are you kidding? Sue'd have skinned me alive. I was convinced she had spies everywhere. Hell, she knew every time I even looked at another woman. She may be small and all that, but don't let that fool ya. She's got a kidney punch I swear could've taken out Ali in one round."

"You are soooo whipped." Both Jack and Harlem said at the same time.

"And ain't even gonna deny it." Dixon admitted as though it were a badge of honor. "She's the only woman for me and has been since we were six."

A dreamy faraway look stole over his face.

"You give men everywhere a bad name." Harlem proclaimed.

"So not my problem gentlemen. Can I help it if you two guys haven't been as lucky?

"Yeah, right. Lucky. Don't think I was built to stay with one woman that long." Harlem admitted.

"And your three ex-wives would agree, I'm sure." Dixon agreed.

The jovial mood was slowly turning sombre as each man seem to get lost in their own individual thoughts. Snapping out of his thoughts Harlem remembered why he'd stopped by in the first place.

"Got a bit more info on Hanson today." He informed Jack, pulling him back to the present. "Showed his picture around Carter's neighborhood. Couple people remembered seeing him in the area. And from what I hear he's not being shy about his opinion of her to any body he can get to listen. He's a real nut job. Everybody I talked to thinks he's just this side of a 'Ted Bundy'" Harlem finished, shaking his head.

"Yeah, his bother was a piece of work too. Must run in the family. And just as fixated on Carter too. 'Lunatic Fringe' I think she called him. She's got enough drama going on in her life, she doesn't need another Hanson stalking her." Jack told both men.

"Speaking of drama, what happened today? Everybody was talking about it when we got back." Dixon asked. Having been off-world for the last few days he'd caught bits and pieces during his post-mission checkup in the evening.

" Oh that. Turns out the homeless man Daniel brought in for questioning was a POW and had some major flashbacks today." Jack filled in, hitting the high points and not wanting to think about how much they had affected him.

He'd be having flashbacks back to his time in Iraq for the next year after everything Adam's break through had stirred up for him.

"I thought they said he hadn't been in the military?" Dixon was sure he remembered being told that.

"Ya well doc seems to think it was because he's now going by a different name. But the one she found isn't right either" Jack was quick to add.

"How can you be so sure?" Dixon wanted to know.

Jack's eyes lost their focus as he again revisited memories he'd much prefer stay buried.

"Because I knew the man she's claiming he is. Joe Turner died in 1973. I was there. I saw him die." Jack voice had turned to a chilling monotone as image after image assaulted his consciousness.

The house that had only moments ago been bursting with laughter became a tomb as both men waited for Jack's explanation. Some things could not be rushed. Some things had to be allowed to come at their own time and speed. It was clear to both men that whatever was locked away in Jack's memory was not something he wanted to willingly relive. They each had more than their shared of the same, memories they'd never shared with another soul; and prayed they'd never have to.

It was several long silent minutes before Jack began. His voice giving nothing away, no inflection, no emotion, no feeling. Only a monotone measured delivery of a nightmare that had chased him across time and distance to wrestle its way into the light of day once more.

"My last year at the Academy I was fooling around with this assignment one of my instructors gave us. Something about what improvements we'd made to increase our odds of success at war or some such thing." His breath puffed out a couple of times as his mind continued to play out the events that had not been acknowledged in decades.

"Anyway I came up with is big huge honkin gun. Light weight, scoped and packing ordnance that could take out a small town a couple of miles away and leave a smoking crater big enough to lose a fleet of C-14s. It worked so damn well that by the time I graduated they were already putting it into practical use. The only problem was they didn't have a lot people trained to use it when they wanted to put it out in the field. They kept it under such tight wraps there were only three or four men who'd ever trained on it. And me of course." He said. Bitterness being the first emotion he expressed.

"Even before I graduated they started trying to recruit me into Special Forces as a stepping stone for Black-Ops where the weapon was being used exclusively. But I wanted to be a pilot, up in the clouds flying free. Every time they approached me I turned them down. My CO told me that was the quickest way to go nowhere in this man's army. They might be phrasing it like a request, but if I kept saying no I'd soon find myself at some remote outpost scrubbing latrines. But that stubborn 'O'Neill' gene just wouldn't cave in. It was gonna be my way or no way. So I just kept saying no."

He exhaled deeply as he seem to finally be getting to the heart of the matter.

"One day they had us all out for a four day survival training trek, with full gear. 110 degree weather that had you soaked before you got to the grounds with your 40 pound backpacks on...after which the heavens politely opened up and sent down great buckets of rain, or but not just rain I mean freezing rain with hail storm balls the size of golf balls and soft balls and even a few that felt like melons. In short...the march from hell. And just as we were being ordered to start marching the Base CO appeared in front of our drill Sargent , stopping him in his tracks with what had to be a very well- rehearsed speech. Everyone stood a little straighter and awaited the bad news."

"'Airman O'Neil step forward.'" He shouted like he wasn't standing right in front of me.  Or else he thought I was deaf. 'You're off this training, you're to report to hanger 4 where you'll be completely briefed on your assignment. Hop to it Airman. That's over 5 miles to the other side and they're expecting you there in...' He made a great show of checking and double checking his watch, tapping the crystal top then finally deciding on a time and proudly proclaiming to every one within earshot that I had less than four minuted to introduce my sorry ass to my new CO. And, of course, I took off at my best jog already knowing I couldn't make it in time. Just when I was ready to drop this jeep pulls up beside me. 'O'Neill? What the hell are you doing way out here? I came to pick you up and was told us you'd already left.' He had me out there running for nothing."

Shaking his head as the thought struck him again.

"Anyway, I found out about the mission. It wasn't a request this time. The mission was critical. The weapon was needed. The only man on base trained to use it was headed into surgery with appendicitis. So...that meant I was their only chose. I didn't need to know anything except how to operate the weapon when we got to the target. That's all I was told and we were in the air."

The room was silent for a long beat as Jack lost himself completely in the past. Neither man willing to push, willing to allow the story to unfold at its own pace.

"It was the first time I'd ever been in a combat situation. The first time 'war' wasn't a game played out during training. The team CO just kept telling me all I had to do was concentrate on the weapon, they'd take care of everything else. I thought we'd trained enough that I could handle myself. I got to believe that until we touched down." Jack went silent again, staring into the fire as the memories assaulted him.

"They put us down in a blood bath. As far as you could see...bodies...body parts...and the smells...the sounds. Men everywhere...arms and legs blown off...begging for help...pleading with us to end their misery. One man grabbed my leg...one leg gone...not even sure he could see who he was talking to...begging me to tell his wife and children how much he loved them...I...I..."

Unable to speak for a few minutes, each man battling demons they'd long ago consigned to the darkest recesses of their mind.

"They pulled me along, dodging gunfire and passed more death and destruction than I could get my mind to process. Got us into position and set up...Gordon went down while I was trying to line up the target...my hands were shaking so bad it took three attempts before I could get it. And all the time people were falling around me. Screaming...crying...pleading...begging. But it was like I was the only one who heard it though, nobody else paid it any attention...just kept moving...doing what they were doing...whatever they were doing. I took out the target in one shot...and for a few minutes after the sound of the explosion there was dead silence...no one moved...no one seemed to be breathing. Most of the enemy forces had been taken out in the explosion. But then everything started happening at once. The guys I was with started hustling me out of there. Said they had orders to keep me safe and to get me and the weapon back to safety and undamaged. We made it almost to the pickup point before we were surrounded by one of the enemy units that had survived the explosion. The three of us were pinned down. I didn't know which way to look...what to do...I should never have been out there with no training. I was more of a danger to them than the enemy."

The anger and rage showed momentarily in his face and voice.

"And then...then...Joe shoved me to the ground...rolling and landing on my back I looked up in time to see him lifted of the ground with the impact of the round that hit him in the back. He had this...surprised look on his face...like he couldn't believe what was happening to him...like it couldn't be real. He just hung there in the air for a minute...looking down and rubbing his shirt...staring at his hands and all the blood they had on them. And then he just crumbled to the ground...like someone cut all his strings...his mouth was moving but no sound came out. I was close enough to touch him. Laying in his blood as it continued to pool around him. And all my mind to do was think how warm it felt...how much of it there was. I didn't know the human body had that much blood in it. And staring into his eyes as his mouth continued to move. And he was staring right back at me. Trying so hard to tell me something...trying so hard to make me understand something. I didn't know what to do...I didn't know what to say...I just lay there...watching him...until...he finally...closed his eyes. And I was still staring. I was laying in what he needed to live...it was all over me...and I didn't know what to do."

No one in the room seem to be breathing or moving as Jack continued to relive one of his worst nightmares.

"Then I heard Pierce yell at me to grab his dog tags. He could've been speaking a different language for all I understood. He grabbed at the dog tags with one hand and me with the other...stuffing the tags in my hand and trying to lay down cover fire as he continued to push me toward the chopper that was barely touching down. I'd taken a couple of shots and gotten really banged up and couldn't remember getting any of it. The pilot keep yelling for us to hurry and Pierce keep pushing me...until we reached the chopper...and he shoved me in and fell on top of me. I don't remember making it back to base...I don't remember the chopper ride. The next thing I knew I was laying in a hospital all beat up and bandaged with machines all around me." For the first time Jack looked away from the fire, finally making eye contact with the other men in the room.

"The doctor told me it had been touch and go for a long while...that I'd been out for two weeks...that I was the only one to make it back alive. They'd had several specialists working on me for hours in surgery. I'd busted up a knee somehow...broke both arms...dislocated a shoulder...had to remove my spleen...not even sure what they were saying. I was flat on my back for six months...then another six of therapy...and I was the survivor...the only survivor. They all got killed trying to get me...ME...me...out safe."

The rage he'd felt with his last words died as quickly as it came. Leaving Jack once again staring with unfocused eyes into the fire.

"So yeah, I'm sure Joe Turner died. Died protecting my sorry ass along with the others. All because of me. All of them died. And all I could do was stare at them. Knowing it was all my fault. I was the green kid everybody had to babysit with their lives...forget about their families and friend...just me.

To Be Continued...


~~Please take a moment to tell me what you think. Reviews are very much appreciated.
~~Zhaan