Summary: This is the sequel to Climbing the Abyss completed 10-1-07, which you should read first. In the first part, Jack O'Neill didn't escape from Ba'al's fortress in the episode Abyss in Season 6. Two years later he escapes in time to download the Ancient knowledge into his brain in order to save Earth from Anubis (Season 7, The Lost City). After two years of being tortured to death he battles with himself to choose life over death.
Abyss of My Soul covers his recovery with the help of his team, and his struggle to lead a normal life when he still craves the comfort of death.
Not a Jack/Sam ship, but very much a friendship piece, for the original SG-1.
Warning: Rated T for torture, language.
Abyss: 1. a deep, immeasurable space, gulf, or cavity; vast chasm. 2. anything profound, unfathomable, or infinite. 3. (in ancient cosmology) a. the primal chaos before Creation b. the infernal regions; hell. Webster's dictionary
Chapter 1
His blood pounded through his veins in an internal rage that threatened to unleash a fury which no one could tame. His anger rose like bile in his throat and he pounded his fist into the concrete walls, kicking and screaming and cursing to heaven and hell.
His knuckles cracked and bled, his skin ripped off by the ferocity of his attack on the wall, his considerably frail bones threatening to snap at the onslaught. He needed the pain. He craved it. It was the only way to feel alive and locked here in the dark depths of the mountain he needed to feel alive. Because if this was death's abode it was in sore need of a decorator.
He was trapped, a prisoner of his mind and body and of his superiors a couple thousand miles away living the life on the surface of the planet that he had saved from a fleet of goa'uld mother ships led by the personification of evil itself, Anubis. And how did they repay him? By sticking him in the bowels of the most top secret, most boringly bland and most underground frontline defense base on Earth.
He had traded one prison for another, and he was pissed as Hell about it.
When he agreed to give life another chance this was most certainly not what he meant. Psych evaluations, debriefings, torture sessions with the Napoleonic power monger and her needles, and the, for lack of a better term, interrogations. He was kept isolated from the base to keep well-wishers at bay and give him privacy as he dealt with the aftermath of an experience that no being was ever meant to endure.
He had only seen his team for a couple hours each day, always in the morning when he was awakened from his chemically induced sedations which helped to ward off the nightmares and give his body the rest it required for its recovery, and then at night to help ease his mind into these unnatural sleeps.
They kept him in the infirmary the first few nights, and it helped that Carter was in the bed next to him, under observation due to her brief capture and mental torture at the hands of the human form replicator, Fifth. She didn't tell him about it and he didn't ask, knowing that he would never reciprocate the gesture. She couldn't hold a candle to what he was going through, but he still briefly felt sympathy for her, and wanted to help her.
He remembered how he had felt aboard Thor's ship, the Daniel Jackson, when he had been told that Carter had been taken by the replicators and their ship had been destroyed. He had literally shut down, blocking out the rest of the world and regretting that he had ever chosen to live in this universe of pain and suffering again. He went through the motions, taking great pleasure in destroying as many of the mechanical bugs as he could with a maniacal laugh and an empty heart.
His heart truly began to beat again when Thor informed them he was picking up a fourth life sign that could be her, and when he held her in his arms he nearly cried with relief that he hadn't come back just to see her die. He couldn't have lived through that.
But now she was safe in the SGC and he was going through the first stages of his physical rehabilitation as well as his psychological analyses. Most of his sessions with the shrink ended short with him getting out of the chair to sit on the floor with his back to the wall, hugging his knees to his chest and blocking out his existence.
His physical recovery was progressing slowly but as expected, still relying on the nutritional supplements of an IV and only managing a few bites of softer foods a day to readjust his stomach to solid foods. Two years of nothing but the sarcophagus to curb his hunger had wreaked havoc on his body systems and he had trouble keeping down almost anything but water.
He had spent nearly two months frozen in his biostasis chamber in Antarctica after he thwarted the attack on Earth before Thor was able to remove the knowledge of the Ancients and restore his physical health. He had used the knowledge and the ships computers to design a weapon capable of destroying the replicators, and had saved the Asgard homeworld of Orilla and turned the tide of their war against the bugs.
Not bad for a soulless, suicidal, depressed and slightly insane human.
So why the Hell was he stuck underground in a military facility, buried deep within the bowels of a mountain, imprisoned for his own good by his own people? He needed to be outside, to smell the fresh air and know that he was free, to know that he had some control over his life. He was trapped in the abyss, the vast chasm of his memories, with no release to move forward with his life. He was thrown into the pit once again with nothing to do but survive. He needed to be revived, and he couldn't do that here.
Thus the bleeding knuckles.
As he soundly thrashed the wall someone came in and grabbed him from behind, holding him gently but restraining his arms and he fell, exhausted and spent, lowered to the ground by gentle hands. He found himself on the floor, leaning back against a warm chest, arms holding him and rocking him soothingly.
He needed this. It had been so long, longer even than his imprisonment with Ba'al. Nobody had held him like this since Sara when he returned from Iraq, he was always the one doing the holding but nobody would ever do this for Jack O'Neill. Until now.
He turned his face into Daniel's chest, feeling the man's heart beat against his ear, focusing on the muffled thump and pacing his own to match it. Daniel's voice in his ear was like the ripple of the pond by his cabin in Minnesota, the wind blowing across his face on a warm evening, calm and soothing. His anger dissipated with his friend's comforting words and touch, and soon the trembling in his limbs ceased.
"I need to get out of here, Daniel." His voice cracked with barely restrained emotion.
Daniel's hand came up to push the hair back from his forehead. "I know."
And he did. Daniel understood what Jack needed, he understood that Jack hated being cooped up indoors, that he loved the outside world, the freeness and spirit of nature.
"Help me?"
He felt Daniel's head move up and down, then a whispered, "I'll get you out of here."
Jack knew it wouldn't be an authorized expedition.
They broke out that night, sneaking through the hallways and climbing up through the emergency ventilation shafts. Daniel could get in serious trouble for this, but if it helped Jack he didn't really care.
By the time they got to the surface Jack was breathing heavily, his arms cramped from the long climb, but as he lifted the hatch and crawled out for his first breath of real, Earth air he smiled wide. As soon as his feet hit touched the ground he sprawled out on his back, his arms out to the side, and grinned up at the night sky, the stars smiling back at him.
"Thank you, Daniel." He said, and rolled onto his side, tugging at the soft grass beneath him. He started laughing uncontrollably, shouting gleefully up at the stars.
Daniel was glad to see his friend so happy but he began to fear this may have been a bad idea to come up here alone. If Jack didn't want to go back Daniel wouldn't have much of a chance of forcing him, but he knew he couldn't let Sam risk her career for this, and he needed Teal'c to provide a distraction. The large, imposing jaffa was currently camped outside Jack's room, preventing anyone from entering.
Daniel sat down beside his friend, hugging his knees loosely. "You feeling okay, Jack?"
"Excellent, Danny. For the first time since we got Carter back, I feel great."
"Good. I wish we didn't have to sneak you out of there. I understand where they're coming from, but it's damn foolish to keep you locked up down there. Good thing I'm here for you, huh?"
Jack's chuckle was more controlled as he calmed down. "Yeah. I'm glad you're back. I was really worried about you. When you didn't come back I thought something bad had happened."
"We were worried about you, too." He laid himself out on the ground at Jack's side. "Nice night."
"I almost forgot what the sky looked like. The stars. I could remember them but…" He rolled onto his side facing Daniel, unable to finish his thought. He reached his hand out to grab Daniel's arm, reassuring himself that his friend was really there.
Daniel swallowed back his emotion at the simple gesture. "I'm here, Jack. And we have the stars. I'll break you out of here every night if I have to so you can be reminded what they look like. I won't let them hold you prisoner anymore."
Jack squeezed his arm gratefully in acknowledgement. "How about smuggling me a beer every once in a while?"
Daniel couldn't help but laugh at the feigned innocence of the request. "Not a chance, my friend. Janet's got some kind of alcohol radar, she'd shove a needle so far in my ass it'd come out my front."
Jack raised his eyebrows in amusement. "When did you become so sarcastic and irreverent?"
"Someone had to make up for the loss of your sense of humor. I guess I just missed you so much I felt I had to become you. Sad, huh?"
"No. I'm flattered. At least one of us can still be me."
"Jack."
"It's okay, Daniel. You don't have to sugarcoat it. I know I'm not fine, I know I've got issues from which I may never recover, but I'm doing the best I can, and you guys are helping. Don't coddle me. Just…Be Daniel."
"Okay, Jack. I can do that. You want to know who won the Stanley Cup?"
Jack grinned, propping himself up on his elbow, his head in his hand. "Later. I'm dying to know what Homer's been up to."
"The show was cancelled, I'm sorry, Jack."
Jack's jaw dropped and he looked absolutely horrified. "What?!"
Daniel grinned. "Just kidding. You know I couldn't let that one go."
Within seconds he was in a mock chokehold, Jack's arms pretending to strangle him as he shook him senseless. "Why you little…I ought to kick your butt, pulling that trick on me."
Daniel was relieved that Jack had received his humor so well. He had been slightly afraid that Jack may go all the way and actually hurt him if he lost his mind, but he seemed to be doing okay. He gently pulled away from Jack and they rolled apart, both gazing up at the stars. "Actually, I've got a present for you. They may let me bring it in for you if you promise to behave."
"A present? For me? What is it?"
"Since I came back…I've sort of been taping The Simpsons for you. I have most of the episodes you missed. Janet thought I was holding on to false hopes but…It helped me to think that you may come back some day. I'm glad you're back, Jack. I've really missed you."
Jack's hand was back on his arm, though he was still studying the sky. "Thank you, Daniel. Thanks for believing in me. A lot of folks wouldn't have bothered for someone like me."
"Don't be so modest. Everybody here loves you, thing's haven't been the same without you. Even Hammond's been different."
"Still. I want you to know…I've never had a friend like you. Our friendship has meant a lot to me and…I just want you to know it. I never said it before."
"You didn't have to. We've always had an understanding, since the beginning. That's what friends do. We make it so the words don't matter."
"Strange to hear, coming from a linguist. Words don't matter. Dang clichés."
"'Actions speak louder than words?'"
"'Never look a gift horse in the mouth.' I guess I always kind of took you for granted. Didn't realize how much I needed you until you were gone."
"I'm glad you're comfortable telling me this, Jack."
"I've been telling you for months. Everyday."
Daniel nodded in understanding but remained quiet. After a few minutes of silence he realized that Jack was shivering. "Cold?"
"Yeah."
"I'll bring blankets next time." He shifted closer to share his body heat, lifting his arm and letting Jack curl up against his side to use his shoulder as a pillow.
Jack had always been tactile, the one to give comfort in the form of a hug or a slap on the back. Daniel had always accepted it without question. Jack's hands had always been busy, messing with artifacts, juggling, tapping his pen. To some extent, his knowledge was limited to what was real and tactile, he only understood what he could touch and explore with his senses. His reassuring pats and comforting hugs were just an extension of that.
That, and in his heart he was a father. Jack had spent years loving his son, providing comfort and safety to the young boy in any way he could. When Charlie had died, the part of Jack that was a father extended its protective nature to his teammates, and Daniel, Sam and Teal'c became the recipients of the his protectiveness. And that included what to him was essential: the hug.
Jack was always the initiator. Nobody went up to Jack O'Neill and gave him a hug, not if they wanted to live with all limbs intact. He put on such a good front to the world that nobody would know just how deeply he was hurting, and that the hugs and back slaps he handed out were as much for him as they were for the recipient.
But now Jack didn't have the strength to put up a front. He couldn't hide his vulnerability, even though Daniel could see he was struggling to do just that. He needed the comfort and reassurance of Daniel's presence, to know that his friend was really there, and the only way he could believe it was through touch. His eyes had played tricks on him, he could hear voices that weren't there, but his touch didn't lie.
Daniel stroked his back reassuringly as Jack's hand wrapped around his waist in what could be mistaken as an intimate gesture but was just his way of holding on to make sure Daniel couldn't leave him. He could sense Jack's shoulders trembling, possibly from the cold but he doubted it.
"Try to get some sleep, Jack. We'll go back when you're ready."
Jack's head nodded against his chest and for several minutes there was nothing but the wind and insects to break the silence. Then in a small voice, "Daniel?"
"Jack?"
"Did I really lose my soul?"
Oh God, Jack. Tears sprang to his eyes for his friend, so lost and vulnerable, shattered by the evil in the Universe. He couldn't find the words to console his friend, he couldn't find the words to console himself. His best friend in the Universe, and he didn't know how to help him. "You gave your soul to SG-1, Jack. We've kept it safe for you."
There was nothing else to say.
To be continued...
Author's note: I got this out sooner than I expected. Next posting may be a few days since I'm busy with classes but I wanted to get this out as soon as possible.
Please review and make my day. Suggestions?
Bixata