sessions - the cuckoo's nest

Tuesday - 14:00

Ford was obstinately staring at Kate Heightmeyer. No way was someone going to shrink his head. For one thing, he wasn't crazy and didn't need to be here. He wasn't going to fall for Heighmeyer's overly relaxed attitude and her sympathetic, understanding smile. No sir.

Ford was trying to outstare her, his face expressionless. Kate smiled.

"You seem a little tense, Lieutenant."

"No, Ma'am, I'm just fine. In fact, I don't even know why I'm here." The answer was an open accusation, his posture stiffening that extra bit more.

"Well, Dr. Weir felt that it might be beneficial if everyone knew there was someone here to talk to, should they feel the need. This session is just so we can get to know each other a little better. No real reason why you have to be here."

Ford gave a nod, his taut demeanor shifting slightly, making him appear slightly younger. "Good. Because I'm not crazy. There's a whole bunch of people ahead of me that should be here for that. You know who Dr. McKay is? You should put him on top of your list."

Kate smiled, trying not to laugh at that. "I'm in no doubt of your sanity, Lieutenant."

"So... can I go now?" Ford asked with a shrug.

"Of course, you're free to leave whenever you want. As long as you know I'm here if you need to talk."

Kate could see the suspicion in his eyes as he asked, "Talk about what?"

"Anything you like. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

Ford seemed to think about that. "No... not really."

He ducked his head and looked at the floor. His body rocked forward a little, like he was deciding between staying or leaving. Kate waited patiently. His hands linked up in front of him, his fingers looking rigid.

"I heard you were injured on your last mission," Kate said quietly.

"Yeah. Just some burns. No big deal. I mean, at least I made it out of there," Ford said, not looking up from his hands.

"Someone didn't?"

Ford looked up at Kate, eyes wide. "Um... yeah. Teresa Jones." He blinked a few times, looking around the room. "She died."

Kate nodded. "Was she a friend of yours?"

Ford shrugged. "We weren't tight or anything, but I knew her. She had a really cool sense of humor. Real smart too..."

The facade seemed to fail then. Lieutenant Ford was good at exuding an air of confidence and competence and Kate had no doubt that he was both those things. Only, right now, he seemed to be having difficulty being either. Like a lot of them, he looked lost.

"Lieutenant?" Kate kept her voice gentle.

Ford's jaw clenched as he looked up at her. "You don't think it's going to happen. That one of you might die out there. You keep thinking, hey, we're the good guys. The good guys aren't supposed to die. And then someone does. Doesn't seem fair. You know?"

Kate nodded. No, it wasn't fair at all. "I know."

Notes: Lieutenant Ford seems an optimistic young man, but typically so, he's uncomfortable with articulating his feelings. However, once engaged in a dialog he does seem able to open up to some degree. I was surprised that he stayed for the whole session.

Ford looked up when a plate of chocolate pudding was placed in front of him. Teyla sat down opposite him, a smile on her face.

Ford frowned at her. "Uh... what's this?"

"I believe it is called chocolate pudding. I noticed you have a fondness for sweet foods. This, in particular."

Ford tried to look unimpressed, macho even, but then ended up grinning. "Thanks."

"You are welcome," Teyla said, as Ford seemed to throw a discreet look around the mess hall.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just some of the guys. If they see me sitting here with you and eating chocolate pudding, I'll never hear the end of it."

Teyla looked completely baffled. "I do not understand. This would offend them?"

Ford smiled. "No. They'll have a good laugh at my expense because, 'hey, was that Teyla bringing you chocolate pudding, man?'"

Teyla's confusion seemed to clear and she smiled with clear amusement. "I see. You do not seem too worried."

Ford shrugged, taking a poke at the pudding. "Nah, it's all cool. I mean, it's like messing around with family, you know? When I was a kid, I always wished I had some brothers or sisters to fight with. Some of these guys are kind of like that."

"Then why do you look so sad?"

Ford stared at Teyla. "I do?"

Teyla nodded. "Yes. You do."

Ford sighed and looked away. "People keep dying. It's like every time you learn someone's name they drop dead. I feel like calling everyone 'hey you' just so they make it through another day."

Teyla reached across and squeezed Ford's hand. He held on, not caring if anyone did see.

Thursday- 11:15

Kate Heightmeyer had a nice smile and understanding eyes. She looked like you could trust her. But then, that's how they all looked, Daniel thought, right before they drilled into your head and sucked out your mind.

Daniel was smiling at Kate. It held no warmth or happiness in it; it looked like someone had etched a line across his face. His arms were folded across his chest. Everything about him told her to stay away.

"What happened to your thumb?" Kate asked.

Something seemed to flicker in Daniel's eyes, but it was so fleeting, Kate was unsure if it was really there. "I wasn't aware my thumb was up for analysis," Daniel said, his voice low.

Kate nodded, giving him an understanding smile. Daniel's eyes briefly flicked away from her, his mouth turning up in amusement.

"I'm not here to make judgments," Kate offered. "I understand if you feel-"

"I understand and I'm listening are just words. Tools of the trade. They don't carry a lot of weight when you've heard them several times. You'll find that with most words. Repeat a word enough times and it doesn't really mean anything at all," Daniel said, staring out of the window for a moment. Then he turned to face Kate and frowned at her. "What's it like? Listening to people pouring out their problems to you every day? Must become like white noise after a while. I mean, seriously, how long can you keep caring?"

Kate didn't let her smile falter as she listened. Daniel's smile was confident, but then why not? His attempt to undermine her had been successful in its sting. But it wasn't a new experience, like Daniel had pointed out, it meant a little less every time it happened.

"You're right," Kate said. "Words usually only have whatever meanings we attach to them. So, when I say I'm here to listen, that's what I mean. You just have to give me a chance to prove that."

Daniel's eyes became visibly frosty. "Don't take this personally, but I take exception to people trying to fix me."

Kate tilted her head at Daniel, taking a good long look. "I never suggested you were broken, Daniel."

Daniel seemed to lose all interest in words.

Notes: Thanks to whatever impression other practitioners of my profession have left on Daniel, I can't see me being able to establish any kind of dialog. Daniel Jackson does not want anyone in his head, that much is abundantly clear.

When Daniel reached the quarters, Rodney wasn't there, but he stayed nevertheless, walking around and picking up objects. On the table was a black wristband. Daniel picked it up and took a long look at it, tossing it away. He sat down on the edge of the bed with a belated sigh.

He lay back there for a bit, eyes closed as he tried not to think about the abysmal session with Heightmeyer. No doubt, he had just added a new level of crazy to his reputation.

Daniel scratched his head, running his fingers through the short strands. Then he got up and went to the mirror in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. Daniel ran his hand over his hair, pushing it back and watching the strands spring right back up when his hand passed over them.

When he was younger, his grandfather was forever telling him to cut his hair. It was like he had a personal vendetta against his hair. Like all the wrong genes were somehow living in his hair. Like the pillars of his deviance would come crashing down around his ears, if only he cut that hair.

He had a theory, a theory to make Rodney snort. They were all here for a reason. They were all on Atlantis because they were either half crazy or well on the way there. Atlantis was nothing more than an intergalactic bedlam waiting to happen. Daniel laughed out at that and shook his head.

Shut your fucking mouth, Jackson.

Daniel closed his eyes, frowning against the resurgent memories. All of them, returning like a tidal wave when he least expected it.

"Earth!"

"Shut your fucking mouth, Jackson!"

Daniel glared angrily at the man in the mirror. His reflection glared right back, defiant.

"It must really kill you," his reflection said, voice low and unrecognizable to Daniel. "Knowing you can't just run away from everything, leave it all behind. I mean, where the hell do you go to leave this place behind?"

Daniel clenched his jaw tight, glaring at the sharp blue eyes in the mirror as his reflection smiled arrogantly.

The man in the mirror began to laugh as Daniel turned away, taking a good long run to his own quarters.

Friday - 13:00

Jack sighed and sat back. The chairs were too low to the ground and he wondered if it was because someone had decided short people were more likely to be headcases.

The Colonel folded his arms casually and leaned back. "So, what do you wanna talk about?"

Kate smiled. "That's usually my line."

He gave a shrug. "I'm not stopping you from using it. Knock yourself out."

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" Kate asked, watching the man closely and marveling at the mask he wore. Even his eyes held no clues. Or maybe that was the biggest clue; there was nothing there to see.

"Not particularly. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Why don't we talk about your last mission?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, looking away from Kate. "We set out with aims and objectives. We achieved those aims and objectives and now we're all in therapy."

"I'm sure the death of Teresa Jones wasn't one of your objectives."

There was a completely blank look on his face, like he wasn't going to play whatever this game was. That's how he would see it. A cat and mouse game, and he would keep his guard up as long as possible.

"It wasn't?" he asked flatly, still no chinks in the armor showing. "Maybe I'm not getting all my memos."

"How do you feel-"

"People die," he said abruptly. "Jones wasn't the first. She sure as hell won't be the last. We all knew it could happen when we signed up for this snazzy uniform. You stand still for every casualty, you'll never get moving again. Those people out there don't need a shoulder to cry on. They don't need someone to analyze their dreams and tell them they're afraid to die in some part of the universe they don't belong in. You just need to look at the faces of the people that brought Jones' body back."

"I'm looking at one of those faces right now, Colonel."

That had his attention. His mouth went up in a fraction of a smile and for the first time there was something in his eyes. Something bright and sharp. Something Kate didn't like.

He unfolded his arms and leaned forward a little. "And what do you see, Doctor?"

Kate just stared at him and wished the session was over.

Notes: There's something about Colonel O'Neill that makes me glad I don't know why he thinks he's not afraid to die. For a man who seems to want everyone to think he feels so little, I'm sure the truth is the opposite.

Jack stalked away from the office, muttering under his breath as he rounded the corner and walked straight into Rodney.

"Sorry," Rodney said before looking up. "Oh. It's you."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too, McKay."

"Yes, I'm sure it must be nice being in the company of polite society every now and then."

"Knock it off, Jane Austen, I'm not in the mood."

Rodney frowned. "You know who Jane Austen is? Amazing. There's just a wealth of things you can never imagine about the armed forces. The ability to read being one of them."

Jack stared at Rodney, marveling at the man's death wish. "What? Is that supposed to be funny?"

"Just an observation."

"Yeah, well, keep your observations to yourself."

Rodney's lips clamped shut momentarily, anger flaring in his eyes before he blurted out, "Or what, Colonel? You're going to break my thumb like you did Daniel's? I mean, what is that? Some kind of soldier boy kink?"

Jack had his hands fisted in Rodney's shirt before he even knew it. He slammed Rodney hard against the wall, as blue eyes blazed at him with equal fury.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Jack said. "You don't know a damn thing."

"I know you're not proving my theory wrong," Rodney spat back.

Jack stared, his senses snapping back into place. His grip loosened and Rodney shoved him back. Against his will, Jack felt his respect for Rodney go up another notch.

But somehow, the thought of Daniel seemed to break him a little more.

"I wouldn't hurt him," Jack said.

Rodney stepped right up to Jack. "But you did."

"You never hurt anyone without meaning to?" Jack asked, peering into Rodney's eyes and trying to read him.

Rodney didn't shy away. "No. That's always been Daniel's forte."

Rodney gave his last icy glare and shoved past Jack, knocking him back an inch. Jack felt the anger spike, but smiled it back down.

"You always say what's on your mind, McKay?" Jack asked without turning.

"It's all I know, Colonel."

Monday - 10:00

Rodney found the best way to deal with this situation was the same way he dealt with many irrelevant things. With complete and utter disregard.

"Psychology is about as scientific as using a fortune cookie to determine the future. If it's all the same with you, I think I'll skip the rest of this session and try and continue with my life under the enormous pressure of whatever nervous breakdown you're expecting," Rodney said with a roll of the eyes.

Kate smiled, genuinely amused. "You've only been here five minutes. Do you really think that's enough time to assess the benefit of this session?"

Rodney shook his head, like Kate was obviously not too bright. He snapped his fingers and smiled. "That's what I do. Make quick, yet accurate decisions that aren't often wrong. It's the reason I'm on this expedition."

"You're never wrong?"

Rodney looked bored. "I said, decisions that aren't often wrong. I'm sorry, I thought listening was a part of your job."

Kate ignored the remark as she began to back away from her first impression of Rodney McKay. Being annoying and snide wasn't a shield at all, because he certainly didn't hold back on his thoughts. No, the vitriolic nature of his discourse was just his way of getting his point across to the best effect possible. He was good at it too.

"You must feel a lot of pressure to be right."

Rodney's face changed from the relaxed place where his barbs came from. Now he was genuinely irritated. "Pressure? No, why would I feel pressure? We only have the Wraith waiting for an all you can eat buffet, while we're sitting here with nothing to protect us. Of course there's pressure. We're running out of power every time a stupid door opens. We're, we're running out of people every time that gate opens."

"So?" Kate asked.

Rodney stared at her. "So? I can't..."

Rodney stopped and frowned.

"What? What can't you do?"

Rodney looked around the room, his mouth opening soundlessly and his eyes wild. "I... I can't..."

Rodney shook his head and looked away. Kate watched him, his mouth clamping shut and the emotions clear on his face. It was all there. Fear, frustration and desperation; all in the lowered eyes, the twitch as his jaw clenched and the mouth he was trying to stop from saying another word.

"It's, uh, not what I expected. This amazing city, we were going to find answers and amazing things. Instead, people keep dying and this city... it's going to become lost again, end up at the bottom of the sea. I can't come up with something that will replace a ZPM. I keep thinking and thinking and it's never enough and while I'm sitting in my lab thinking, some military schmuck is using his body as a shield for the rest of us. Shows you how bright they are. Gee, what should I choose for a career? Oh I know, something that comes with tags to identify my body when I get blown to bits. "

She watched as Rodney lifted a finger and rubbed it into the corner of his eye.

"Rodney?" Kate asked quietly.

"I'm fine, I've just... I've got something in my eye," Rodney said, looking up at Kate, his eyes covered in a bright sheen. "You know that saying, about having all your eggs in one basket? It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It's like, don't put all your cheese on one board or all your milk in one fridge."

Kate frowned as Rodney gave a small broken smile."It's what this place is though, isn't it? Just... one big stupid basket case."

He nodded and then went back to rubbing his eye.

Kate picked up the box of tissues from by her chair and held it out. "Would you like a tissue?"

Rodney gave a nod and reached out. "Uh... yeah, I have a... just a... a little thing... in my eye."

Notes: It's not that Rodney can't communicate. He just seems to get distracted by every minute detail on the way to what's on his mind. He may actually be the sanest person in this city.

Atlantis was sleeping and Rodney was still sitting in his lab, staring at a blank computer screen. Rodney looked at the empty coffee cup by his hand, seeing his reflection, a stretched, unmoving version of himself.

Rodney was out of the lab and walking before he even knew where he was going, the emptiness of the place beginning to claw at him. It was a surprise to him that he stood in front of John's quarters; it wasn't where he'd intended to go.

John was asleep when he walked in, even though the light was on. He was lying on his side, his book half under him.

Rodney quietly made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge, watching for a while. John must have been exceptionally tired to not wake. He looked tired. Rodney reached for the book and gently began to pull it from under the sleeping man.

Quick as lightning, John's hand shot out and grabbed Rodney's wrist hard. Rodney looked at John who was staring at him, almost frightening to look at, eyes glassy and enraged. Rodney had never acknowledged to himself that John was a dangerous man, because his casual demeanor was so convincing. But there it was, right in his bright eyes and in the bone crunching grip of his hand.

Rodney kept the grunt of pain at bay, the fingers around his wrist not loosening their grip. He just looked down at John's hand, too hot and desperate.

God, they were all insane. Every last one of them. Go ahead, he thought, break it and tell me you didn't mean to.

"Let go," Rodney whispered, not making any effort to remove his hand from John's grasp.

John blinked, swallowing and looking at Rodney's wrist in his grip. He quickly drew his hand back, clearly flustered. "Sorry, I didn't..."

"I know," Rodney said, not giving into the instinct to massage his wrist. John slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position and combed a hand through his hair.

"You look tired," Rodney said. "Should go back to sleep."

John shook his head, his eyes dark and avoiding Rodney's gaze. "I'm fine."

Why couldn't he just say he was tired? That there were nightmares? Rodney sighed. Crazy eggs. Every single one them.

"If you haven't eaten, we could go get a midnight snack or something."

"You go," John said, picking up his book slowly, like it was a chore.

Rodney held John's wrist, gentler than the other man had done. John stared at the fingers holding him, like maybe they belonged to someone else, like he was drifting away again.

"You want me to go?" Rodney asked quietly.

John looked up at Rodney, his face unreadable. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, Rodney." His voice was rough and foreign and Rodney wanted to lean forward and kiss John, bring him back from wherever he was hiding. But he didn't, because everything about John told him to stay away.

Rodney nodded and let go. "Fine."

He got up and swiftly turned to go. If John wanted to wallow about being alive, fine. If he hated not being beaten to death, fine. If it hurt so much to live, fine.

Rodney felt his breath stick somewhere in his lungs as his hand went up against the door frame and he stopped. He didn't want to go back to his empty quarters and dream about corpses. He didn't even want to go back to work and think about how empty Atlantis could feel at times, like they were already all dead. So he turned back around and walked back to the bed, under John's curious gaze.

Rodney nodded. "I know how busy you are brooding and that's fine, because you have every right. However, I would like to stay, and maybe have a little nap before I get back to work. Unfortunately, my place looks like a laundry bomb hit it and I'm not sure where the bed is anymore. Also, there is the small case of my intensely missing your presence for the last few days and I guess if I have to risk having my wrist snapped in two by being around you, so be it."

John's face looked a little flushed, and his eyes lowered.

"If you don't want me here, by all means, you can leave. I'm not going anywhere. Now, if you don't mind, could you make a little room?" Rodney said, jutting out his chin defiantly and expecting John to get up and throw him out.

John just stared ahead silently as Rodney's heart hammered at the prospect of complete embarrassment or being just plain being ignored.

John looked up, his eyes bright, yet so dark. The outburst Rodney was waiting for, or maybe even hoping for never came. John slowly moved aside, avoiding Rodney's gaze.

Rodney's heart spun like a dangerously out of control ferris wheel that had no business being in any fairground. He wanted to grin in victory. It was something, after all. Instead, Rodney gave John a small nod, the kind he gave when he was right about something.

"Well, thank you," Rodney said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling his shoes off.

Rodney plumped up a pillow and lay down on his side, John still sitting next to him. Rodney closed his eyes and sighed.

"You know, the sleep thing would be easier if the light was off," Rodney said after a while.

John seemed to completely ignore him, but Rodney didn't care, because at least John hadn't left or thrown him out.

A moment later, the mattress shifted a little, John moving around somewhere behind Rodney. Then Rodney could almost feel John's breath on the back of his neck as the other man lay down to sleep.

The light turned off. Rodney closed his eyes and slept until morning.

Friday - 13:00

John sat in the chair and stared straight past Heightmeyer. His bones still ached, as if he was back in the cell, being beaten to a pulp. He was still in a cell, only it was nicer to look at and had a prettier interrogator. If he wasn't so busy being stuck in the quicksand of a million things his mind couldn't let go of, he might even have hit on her.

"John?" her question was gentle.

John continued to stare at the burnt husks of his friends as they stood behind Heightmeyer, staring right back at him, their faces charred beyond recognition. Only, this time Teresa Jones was between them, her body broken and twisted into odd angles. His life in exchange for hers. Seemed like a waste.

John Sheppard was a difficult one. He had come in and sat down, making no attempt at conversation. He didn't try to be impenetrable and indifferent. He didn't take control of the conversation. He didn't even get annoyed. He answered some questions and then didn't seem to hear the others as he stared out at the ocean, blinking slowly.

"Must be hard, being new to all this."

John was back to not listening, lost in his own thoughts.

"Stargates, wormholes and aliens. You probably never imagined you'd be stepping foot on the lost city of Atlantis. Must be overwhelming."

Kate waited for a response, but John was quietly frowning at the window.

"I know I felt pretty scared when I joined the project. Not something I expected in my field of... work," Kate said with a frown as John suddenly got up and walked to the window.

"I shouldn't even be here," he said quietly and for a moment it looked as though he wasn't looking at the ocean at all.

"Why not?" Kate asked.

"I had the right gene. So they figured they needed me. I'm just a pilot that can switch all the lights on by thinking about it." The answer was matter-of-fact and emotionless.

"I think you're underestimating your own value, Major," Kate said, hoping this could be an inroad to wherever John Sheppard was.

"I think you're overestimating it," came a flat reply.

"Why? You don't count yourself as a valuable member of this expedition?"

John just stared, his body still and his eyes unblinking.

"John?" Kate urged gently.

John kept watching whatever he saw in the ocean.

Notes: John Sheppard seems unreachable. I can't seem to get his attention long enough for him to answer anything. I'm not sure if there is a way to make him open up to anyone right now.

Jack could see the figure at the end of the corridor that was now darting through a set of doors. The tall, slim, scruffy haired man was doubtlessly John Sheppard.

Jack made his way down the corridor until he reached a set of doors that opened onto a balcony. He stepped through the doors to see John hunched over the railing and retching, his hands holding the railing tight, knuckles white.

Jack watched as the other man seemed to shudder and then retch again.

John stood leaning against the railing, his grip remaining tight, but Jack noted an unsteady sway to the other man's body.

"You alright there?" Jack asked.

John's head snapped to the side, startled, but then he laughed. "Yeah. Just great."

"You don't look so great."

"I'm fine. Bad clams," John said quietly.

Jack smiled. Another guy who thought he could keep demons at bay with stupid remarks. How the hell weren't they dead yet?

Okay, how the hell was Sheppard not dead yet?

"Yeah, well, apparently someone suggested a French chef, but uncle Sam wasn't so keen on the idea. Can't imagine why."

John didn't seem aware that Jack had said anything and Jack saw his posture beginning to crumple before his knees gave out.

Jack moved quickly, snaking an arm around the other man's waist and easing him down to the ground. John's head seemed to loll down, but he hadn't let go of the railing, his knuckles still gripping it tight.

Jack reached up and pried John's hands away. "Come on, let go of that. Take a deep breath."

John seemed to struggle for a moment, shuddering rather than breathing, but after a few moments, began to gain some control, closing his eyes and breathing in deep a few times.

"Better?"

John gave a nod. "Dizzy. Sorry."

"It's okay, " Jack said, watching the other man closely. "Here, try and sit back for a minute."

Jack moved aside an inch as John slowly dragged himself back to lean against the railing, drawing his legs up.

Jack watched him sitting there, eyes closed and both hands either side of him, flat against the ground. His face, though healed, still carried reminders of the recent ordeal, light fading lines. Jack tried not to think about them too much.

He got up and went to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"How you been feeling?" Jack asked.

For a moment it looked as though John hadn't heard, but then his eyes slowly opened and he stared up at Jack.

"Fine."

"Sleeping okay?"

"Like a baby."

"Yeah? No nightmares?"

John was staring in a far away manner, like he was looking through Jack and seeing something completely different.

"Major?"

"A few," John said quietly.

Jack nodded. "Happens. Might be an idea to tell Heightmeyer about them."

John threw a heated glare, his eyes oddly glassy. "I thought we didn't have to see her more than once."

"I know, but you ought to talk about-"

"Not even if it's an order... Sir," John said.

Jack took a deep breath. "It's not an order."

John looked away and Jack could almost feel the other man willing him to leave. He was sure he was supposed to say something based on his wealth of experience, but he had nothing to say that wouldn't make John want to take a trip over the balcony.

Jack pushed away from the wall. "You should probably go inside."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to jump, if that's what you're afraid of," John said, without looking up.

Jack shook his head at the remark. The truth of the matter was, you couldn't help someone until they were ready to be helped. John Sheppard was still far from that. It seemed he was all too comfortable with suffering for now.

Jack sighed. "You know, I envy Jones. She died out there doing something she believed in. There are worst ways to go."

Over and over and over and over...

John was looking past Jack again, as if staring at someone behind him, his face filled with a silent kind of horror. "I guess it's okay then," he said flatly.

"It's never okay," Jack replied. "It's just the way it is, I guess."

John closed his eyes and the cracks seemed a little more visible for a moment. His head came up slowly, tilting a little as he looked at Jack. "What's it like? Dying all those times?"

Jack sighed, looking across the ocean that just seemed to stretch into nowhere. No one had really asked him that. They'd asked him how he felt about the whole thing.

How does that make you feel, Colonel?

Like a house on fire.

They never really asked him what it was like. Maybe they didn't want to know.

"The dying's not so bad. It's the waking up again that really throws you."

John was doing his vacant-eyed stare again, watching the floor like it was moving. Jack could already guess the next question. Only, the answer to that was something nobody wanted to hear.

There was nothing! No one.

"Get some rest, Major," Jack said, before John could ask anything else. He pushed away from the wall and went to stand directly in front of John. "I need you back out there."

John looked up at that. There was small smile on his face, sad and broken and Jack recognized it all too well. He'd seen it too many times. He was sure he'd worn it himself.

"It'll get better," Jack said quietly, though he wasn't sure if it ever did get better. He held out his hand.

John took a long look at the hand before accepting it and being pulled to his feet. Jack gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Try and get some sleep," he said.

John nodded and then frowned at Jack, like something didn't make sense to him. But all he said was, "Thanks."

Jack watched him leave as a familiar shadow appeared at his shoulder.

"Tell him," Ba'al said, whispering in Jack's ear before walking around him and looking him in the eye. "Tell him where she has gone. Where they all go."

Jack arched an eyebrow at the specter. "Didn't I tell you before? Get yourself another girlfriend. I'm not interested."

Ba'al's mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, so just to be annoying, Jack walked right through him.

- the end -