Broken Bones
Author: BadgerGater
Email: BadgerGater@cs.com
Category: Adventure
Pairing: None
Rating: PG, violence
Season: Three
Summary: Jack's in trouble
Warnings: Violence, a few adult words
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent.
Authors Notes: WordaMonth-June, Broken; Don't blame me. It's Chris and Tanya who think up these diabolical words
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I know all about broken.
Broken dreams. Broken promises. Broken marriages. Broken friendships. Broken vows. Broken hearts.
Broken bones.
They are.
Yup.
I *know* broken bones.
Don't need doctors or x-rays to tell me that.
I've had quite a collection.
I could recite the whole list for you.
Nah, I don't suppose you'd think that was much fun.
Neither would I.
Too close to the topic at hand.
Broken dreams. Don't want to remember those either. Broken promises, Sara could give you a whole list. Broken friendships, ask Frank. Oh, no sorry, you can't. He's dead.
I'm rambling.
Do you think I'm rambling?
Of course I'm rambling.
Anything to keep my mind off what they're doing to me.
Been here, done this, skipped the t-shirts, thank you.
I could have quite a collection of t-shirts by now, if I'd gotten one from each of the hospitals where they put me back together again, starting with that broken arm playing hockey back in high school....
OH GOD THAT HURT.
I felt another rib snap, bit my lip not to scream out the pain at the impassive face above me. Do they know they're hurting me? They seem to, but they don't seem to care. So why are they doing it? I don't know why they're doing this to me, what they want from me. If I knew that, I'd know what to do, how to fight them, how to gain an advantage, some advantage, any advantage, anything.
I can only pray they're not doing it to the others, my team. I don't know. I can't see them, or hear them, so I can hope.
Hope. That's what's keeping me alive.
Impersonal.
That's the worst part.
They're doing this to me, hurting me, yet their faces show no anger, no maliciousness, not even a sense of satisfaction. They're just doing it like it means nothing.
To them, maybe. Not to me.
Broken bones hurt like hell, did you know that?
Why?
None of us *did* anything.
Daniel hadn't touched anything. Teal'c's Jaffa-ness hadn't seemed to bother them. Carter hadn't shot anyone. Hell, I hadn't even uttered a single sarcastic word.
Seconds after we'd materialized through the gate, they'd materialized silently through the trees, gliding, ghostly, eerily quiet.
Daniel did his hello thing and they got excited, chattering in high pitched voices, like a bunch of playing children.
That's it, I suppose, that's how they'd gotten past my usually right on the mark radar. They were like children, they seemed guileless and open and innocent.
Stupid, Jack, really stupid, letting your guard down like that. You know better.
And look where it got you.
They'd surrounded us like excited, inquisitive children, chattering. I hadn't even noticed that somehow I'd become separated from the others, sealed off by a wall of oversized children. And then I was being pushed away, herded away from the team. By the time I'd realized I was in trouble, there were so many around me, blocking my view, blocking my movements, and then they'd turned from innocents into, hell, I don't know. The Stepford children?
Suddenly, it wasn't innocent fun anymore. I'd tried to do something they didn't want me to do and they'd changed. The once friendly hands were suddenly holding me down, covering my mouth to stifle my shouts, confining my movements, lifting me bodily and carrying me away. I resisted them, but there were too many to fight, too many to overcome.
So they'd carried me into this room, and strapped me down, somehow. My weapons disappeared, everything metal, everything that had any metal gone quickly, somehow cut away though I'd seen no knife or scissors, until I was lying on this hard, stone slab wearing only my torn t-shirt and trousers.
And then they'd started touching me, probing and prodding, gentle hands turning, not so much rough though I was going to have bruises everywhere, as indifferent. They seemed to be simply testing, trying, experimenting.
God, was that what I was? A lab rat?
Their hands had been everywhere, until I'd wanted to scream. I'd told them to stop, calmly, rationally, and they'd ignored me. I'd shouted at them to stop, and they'd ignored me. I'd ordered them to stop, and they'd ignored me.
And then it had gone beyond testing to, hell, torture, I suppose. Nice, clean torture, more precise and less bloody than you'd imagine torture to be, but torture none the less.
---------------
They seemed to know what they were doing, how to do it, just how much force was needed to break a bone. It was done almost gently, reverently; okay, if it was something else they'd been doing, I'd have said almost lovingly.
I hadn't known what they were going to do, until the first one.
A perfect tap on my lower left rib and I'd felt it snap with breathtaking agony.
Then the one above it. Another tap and bone gave way like broken crystal.
And now, one more.
Precise. Methodical. Almost medical.
How many did they plan to break?
Did they know or understand that there was only so much they could do before they inflicted permanent, even lethal, damage?
Did they care?
Oh God.
They were back.
Their hands, those cold hands, feeling the delicate bones in my left hand and fingers.
Shit, not again. Those fingers had already been broken enough times. I squirmed, tried to pull my hand away, fought the bindings that held it in place, but it was futile.
I couldn't watch.
I had to watch.
He/she/it held that thing, that stone thing. An artifact, I nearly giggled, in it's hand, and, like a musician tapping the keyboard, it tapped one of those bones visible on the back of my hand.
Snap.
Shit.
Tap.
Crack.
Damn.
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Rice Krispies. Oh, damn, don't lose it now Jack.
I could feel the swelling rising in my hand, pain throbbing with every heartbeat.
Another one of the creatures picked up my hand, turning it this way and that, examining it. The small, soft alien hand took hold of my little finger and bent it in a direction it wasn't meant to bend. Pop, as the joint dislocated, bone giving way.
Excruciating is the first word that comes to mind.
"Arrrgghhh!"
The small creature jumped backwards, startled, looking at me, and let go of my hand.
"Don't touch me! God no, you're hurting me! Don't you understand? That hurts, dammit!"
Anger is a good defense against pain, did you know that?
More creatures, many more of them, suddenly crowding around me, until the room was stifling with their presence. It seemed there was no more air left to breathe.
Another one of them, taking hold of my hand.
"No!" I shouted. "Stop! No! Let me go, damn it!"
They didn't understand, didn't listen, didn't care.
Snap went another finger bone.
"Arrrrggghhh!"
I was gasping for air, fighting to breathe, battling to push back that threatening curtain of black. There must be some way to communicate, some way to make them understand that they needed to stop.
And then one of them picked up that stone artifact thingy and ran it's other hand caressingly up my left arm. I could feel its cold 'fingers' searching out the bones in my arm.
This time, when the bone broke, I couldn't stop myself. The moan of pain escaped through my clenched teeth.
Around me, every single one of them, dozens, maybe hundreds, moaned in perfect imitation.
Shit! What?
Copycats.
Other hands grasped my arm, pulled, bone grinding against bone, and I hollered.
They copied.
Another alien, or the same alien, I couldn't tell through the haze that clouded my vision, picked up the little hammer device. Gently stroking my wrist, as if feeling for the weak spot, the vital spot, the perfect spot, it suddenly lifted the device and tapped my wrist.
Pain exploded through the joint as bone snapped.
"Gggggggggodddddddd," I rasped through teeth clenched so tightly I thought they'd break, too.
Dozens of throats perfectly repeated my cry.
Oh Lord, they wanted to hear me cry out in pain. That was what they wanted, they wanted to hear/feel/experience what I was going through.
They didn't need to keep breaking my bones to get me to squawk, not now, not when I understood. I treated them to a couple of full-throated, agonized howls.
Except it didn't quite work.
It seemed the emotion had to be genuine.
Somehow, they knew the difference.
The little stone artifact, wielded by the soft hands of those innocent eyed child-like creatures, tapped the already broken bone of my left arm, and I heard the bone break again.
I didn't have to fake the cry of pain, not that time.
Daniel may be able to speak 23 different languages, but I can say son of a bitch in 32 or 33.
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How many bones are there in the human body?
How many times can you break them?
Carter would know.
Carter. Daniel. Teal'c. Please, God, they aren't doing this to them, too.
------------------
When they broke the other bone in my arm, for the second time, I passed out.
I told you broken bones hurt.
-------------------
I woke up alone.
Guess they wanted their victims to be awake, or there was no fun in the game.
I wasn't tied up anymore, either. Maybe they thought I wouldn't wake up, or that I'd be too weak to leave.
Bastards.
I sat up, everything spinning around me as pain raged in my side and my arm. Using my right hand to cradle my left arm, I carefully swung my legs off the stone 'altar' if that's what you'd call it. I had to wait a moment while the earth rolled and then settled back into place and the blackness retreated from my vision. Finally, I set my feet on the floor, forced myself to stand, though with a definite list to the left, and staggered to the doorway.
The corridor was empty, and silent.
--------------
Outside, there was moaning and cries of pain.
Oh God, not my team.
No, it's the freaky little Stepford children on playback.
---------------
I tried to hurry. Didn't work too well. I couldn't take a decent breath, each intake of air sending waves of pain through my chest. Every step jarred the bones in my hand and arm, grinding rough edges against tender tissues while tendons and muscles tried, vainly, to hold everything together.
I did tell you that broken bones hurt, right? Didn't I?
I staggered, needed to use my right arm to brace myself against the wall in order to stay upright, but that meant letting go of my left arm. I bit my lip, knowing I had to stay silent, not draw their attention to myself.
And then I heard Daniel's excited voice. Not pain-wracked. Not hurt, or angry or fearful.
Joyful.
Excited.
Elated.
Muttering to himself the way he does when he's found something exciting.
God, at least he wasn't being tortured.
And then I realized it wasn't really Daniel's voice, it was dozens of voices, just like Daniel's.
Shit. How was I supposed to find the real one, among so many?
--------------------
Exhausted, I leaned my back against the wall, rubbery legs giving way as I slid down to sit on a bench-like thing against the wall.
-----------------------
And intruding into the sound were more voices, Carter voices, excited, the way she rushes her words when she's found something new. That joy of discovery, the thrill of finding a challenge, excited explanations pouring from her mouth.
Dozens of mouths, alien mouths, mimicking her words laced with the elation of discovery.
So she wasn't being tortured either.
I didn't want to ask the why me question.
I just needed to find them.
Fast.
----------------------
I had to get out of there.
I had to find them, my team, before these whatever they are perverted child-like things I guess, decide they want something more from me. Or them.
I pushed myself upright, or at least mostly upright, as upright as I could get with ribs that felt like that, suppressing a groan, staggering forward, toward a doorway.
The room was dim, but I could see patterns on the wall, writings, symbols, exactly Daniel's kind of stuff.
I could hear his voice, rich with heady excitement, talking, laughing as the aliens copied his every word, repeating his sounds of joy just as they had repeated my sounds of pain.
I managed to hobble as far as the doorway. "Daniel?"
He glanced up at me, then his eyes quickly returned to the images on the wall. "God, Jack, this is fascinating stuff. I've been reading...."
"Daniel."
This time, he seemed to hear the catch in my voice. His head jerked around and he took another look. I realized the light was behind me, at best he could only see my outline in the doorway. "Jack, what?"
******Daniel
They had surrounded me in the clearing, excitement plain in the sounds they made. I couldn't make out any language, maybe they didn't have any. Their hands stroked my arm, my back, my shoulders, dozens of them reaching out to touch me gently. I smiled.
"Hello."
They made little twittering sounds, happy, delighted, excited sounds, like children.
My brain whirled, seeking a way to communicate. They did not respond to gestures, or to my words. Surrounded by dozens of them, I suddenly realized I was being slowly herded toward a large, low building. I couldn't see the others, no sign now of Jack or Sam or Teal'c and the only sounds were excited chatter. I didn't feel threatened, heard no sounds of warning or danger from the others, so I let the child-like aliens take me into the building.
---------------
The room was astounding, every surface covered with symbols, runes, glyphs, dazzling intricate shapes.
"Wow!"
A dozen voices echoed my words.
"This is fantastic!"
More voices, as if they were copying not just the words, but the emotions underneath.
They followed me around the room which oddly seemed much larger inside than it had from the outside. My eyes could hardly take it all in, drinking in the beauty of the script, seeking to sort out the puzzle.
And all the while, every sound I made was copied by my band of followers.
This was, well, "incredible!"
"Incredible!" echoed the voices excitedly.
That's how I felt until the figure appeared in the doorway.
A flash of guilt. I didn't know how long it had been, I hadn't thought of my teammates, I'd been so absorbed by what I was doing, by the wonders of the room.
I hadn't imagined danger here.
I should have known better. I've been doing this for four years. I should know better than to be lulled by appearances. Jack would tell me that.
Jack.
He stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched and right hand supporting left arm in a posture that screamed pain more loudly than sound.
How had he hurt himself?
Surely, these people hadn't....?
"Jack?"
I couldn't miss the pain in his words. "I could use a little help here, Daniel."
"Jack?" I leaped for the doorway, a sharp stab of fear coiling in my gut. This wasn't like Jack, not at all. It had to be bad. "What?"
Now that I could see his face, his distress was evident- pale, sweating, his skin cool to the touch. My God, he was going into shock.
"What happened?" I asked, grasping his shoulder to support his weight, feeling him slump wearily against me.
"They..." he wheezed, weakly waving his right hand at the aliens crowding around us. "They...broke..."
He didn't have to say more. The damage to his left hand and arm was unmistakable, the digits already grossly swollen; his arm misshapen; the stutter in his breathing telling me his ribcage wasn't quite intact. I quickly pulled up the edge of his shirt and gasped at the visible bumps on three ribs.
"Broken," he mumbled, getting more and more heavy in my arms.
"How did they do this?"
"Very carefully," he muttered. "One at a time."
"My God, that must have hurt," I didn't realize I'd said it aloud until he answered, "Did. Yes."
"Teal'c! Sam!"
Around me, a hundred voices mimicked my call for assistance. It would have been scary, if I hadn't been too worried about Jack's condition to notice.
My teammates came running, eyes huge, as stunned as I at what had happened. I tried to answer their questions as we looked for a place to lay Jack down. We eased him to a spot on the floor, my jacket beneath his head, Teal'c's and Carter's covering him. Carter was digging in her pack for the medical kit.
"Colonel?" Sam's face frowned in concern. "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't know anything was wrong. I didn't hear you call."
"Didn't," he whispered. "Couldn't. They wouldn't let me."
"Wouldn't?" She was still disbelieving, looking around her at the guileless faces, those same faces who just moments ago were copying her happy voice as she exclaimed with delight over the room full of odd, fascinating machinery they'd shown her. "They never made a move to hurt me. I never felt threatened."
"Nor did I," agreed the Jaffa. "The room I was taken to was filled with candles, properly prepared for kel'no reem. They simply sat quietly around me, watched and copied my movements, seeming to share my sense of inner peace."
"And they copied my voice, too," I added. "They took me to a room filled with writings and symbols."
Sam's face was a study in concentration. "They provided Teal'c with a place for kel'no reem. They provided you with the challenge of a new written language, and gave me the chance to discover new technology. So why did they do this to the Colonel? It doesn't make any sense!" She shook her head in frustration.
"Emotion," I said, sudden understanding flooding through me. "They were after our emotions. Teal'c is peaceful in kel'no reem. I'm excited by a new language, and you're happy working with machinery. And Jack..." I looked down at the pale face of my friend, pain showing in every line of the weary face. "Jack has always had that dark side, all the hidden hurt he carries..."
"He did not hide it from them," observed Teal'c, looking at the creatures who had drawn back and were silently watching the team from Earth.
"Damn!" Carter suddenly exclaimed. "My packs been ransacked. Most of my stuff is gone, including everything from the medical kit. And all our weapons, too."
"Damn!" aped the crowd of no longer innocent appearing natives.
Jack stirred restlessly on the floor, eyes drifting open to look at his team kneeling around him. "You guys okay?" he asked quietly.
"We are all well, O'Neill," Teal'c answered.
"That's good," the Colonel said, licking his lips. "Cuz' I'm not."
"Sir, we need to get back to the gate. Think you can walk?"
"Oh sure," O'Neill agreed. He moaned as Teal'c assisted him to his feet. Around us, the aliens moaned in perfectly pitched imitation.
And when we turned to go, we found themselves once more surrounded by an impenetrable wall of aliens. I tried to push my way through. They pushed me back. Teal'c tried to force his way through, but they were suddenly stubborn, as if turned to stone, silent and unmoving. Even Teal'c's immense strength could not move them. Behind me I heard Jack moan again, and from the corner of my eye saw him sink to the floor.
They weren't through with us.
They weren't going to let us go.
****Jack
I couldn't breathe. Staying upright is hard when you can't breathe. My knees buckled and even Teal'c's strong grip couldn't keep me on my feet. He caught me just enough so that I didn't hit the floor with a crash, just with a whimper.
Somehow, I was lying on the floor, on my right side, curled protectively around my throbbing ribs and cradling my shattered arm and hand.
Carter was there, bending over me, looking worried. "Sir?"
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you guys..." I mumbled.
"Easy Sir, Stay down. We're not going anywhere for now at least." I could see the worry on her face as she glanced at the aliens surrounding us.
I closed my eyes for a moment to concentrate on not throwing up as nausea flared. I listened disinterestedly as she talked with Daniel, their words blurring together into a rumble of unintelligible sound muted by the pounding of the blood in my throbbing left limb. After a moment I felt Carter's hand touch my cheek and I opened my eyes. Courteous thing to do for your second in command/medic.
"Carter?"
"Sir, we're going to have to wait here a bit before we can go to the gate. So I'm going to have to take a look at your arm, try to immobilize it until we can get you home, Colonel." I could see how hard she was trying to be gentle as she rolled me onto my back.
Her hands touched my swollen arm and I flinched.
Her eyes tightened. She knew she'd hurt me, and I knew it was only the start.
"Get to work, Carter," I ordered.
"Sir..."
Why is it people always have to tell you they're going to hurt you, huh? Is that supposed to make it easier, or better or hurt less? Yeah, right. I sighed, resigned to the pain. "Carter, just get to work." My voice was sharp, roughened because I hurt already and I knew I was going to hurt a whole hell of a lot more in a few minutes. "That's an order, Major."
"Sir..."
"Carter, I hope to hell you took me up on that suggestion that you take more first aid classes," I added.
"Yes, Sir, I did."
"Good." I lay back, closed my eyes, figured watching wasn't going to make it any easier. I felt her hands move gently along the bones between my wrist and elbow. "Agghhhh."
"Sorry."
" 'Kay," I muttered, gasping.
Her fingers probed carefully along the arm, toward my hand. I felt the wrist bones shift. "God damn! Carter! Owww! Shit!" I writhed, unable to lie still, surging upward toward a sitting position, the movement awakening the pain in my ribs until I thought the wave of agony would overwhelm me. Dimly, I heard the aliens copying my curses as I sank back to the floor, blackness dancing at the edge of my vision.
"Ah, Sir, I'd say your wrist is broken too."
"Ya' think?"
She looked down at me, brushing blonde hair from her eyes, and I could see she was worried about hurting me more. "Sir, I need to set this."
"And it's gonna hurt. I know. Get it done, Carter."
She did. And it did.
Okay, so I didn't scream, not this time, not like with my broken leg. This only hurt, hmm, maybe 90% as much. Nothing to it.
With Teal'c holding my shoulder, the Major yanked my arm forcefully to align the broken bones and I gasped. My ribs complained, monumentally, adding another misery to my list of trials. I fought to control my ragged breathing, trying to draw air into my lungs without expanding my ribcage. Try that, why don't you? Doesn't work too well. Nothing was working too well, come to think of it.
"Are you okay, Colonel?"
"Dandy," I moaned. "You're on a roll, Carter. Finish it."
Daniel was peering concernedly over Sam's shoulder, handing her the frame from the backpack he'd dismantled and strips of cloth that had been his t-shirt. Carefully, the Major lined up the metal pieces along my arm, then cautiously began winding the strips around my forearm, working her way toward my wrist, biting her lip in concentration. Each tug of the cloth send another shaft of pain exploding up my arm.
"Hmmmm," I ground my teeth, trying to keep silent, not wanting to give those damn sadistic aliens any more of what they wanted, trying not to upset Carter or break her concentration. 'You love your job, you love the Air Force, you love your job, you love the Air Force,' I chanted silently, reminding myself of what I was doing here on this godforsaken planet.
This time, when the wall of blackness came at me, I let go and let it wash over me. To hell with being the tough guy. Nothing hurts when you're unconscious. It's another one of those things I learned a long time ago.
Of course, the trouble with that observation is, eventually, you wake up. And if where you wake up isn't Doc's infirmary with those nice, comforting IV pain meds already flowing in your veins, the pain is still waiting to ambush you again, even before you open your eyes.
I know. Been there, done that, too.
So for a while I simply lay there, eyes closed, concentrating on breathing shallowly and not moving any part of the left side of my body.
Then someone touched my left hand. "Ahhhhhh."
"Sorry, Sir, didn't know you were awake."
I opened my eyes a fraction, just enough to see Carter's still worried face, and noticed that it was no longer light around us.
"How long?" I asked, licking my lips which felt bone dry.
"Three hours, Sir." She reached behind her, pulled something around, and I felt the edge of a canteen touch my lips. "Here, Sir, drink." Carter dribbled water into my mouth, and I drank, again and again, and finally pulled back.
"Enough," I whispered.
She splashed a little water onto a cloth and wiped it across my face. Funny, I didn't think it was hot on this planet, but my face was sweaty, I realized.
"What's happening?" I finally thought to ask.
"Nothing, Sir. We're still surrounded. Teal'c has tried several times to break through but he can't."
"Hmmm," I nodded, letting my eyes close again. Did you know it takes as much energy to keep your eyes open as to run a marathon? No? Well, I didn't either. Funny, the things you realize when you've got a dozen or so broken bones. Gives a man a whole new perspective on life.
"We heard the gate activate a half-hour ago, Sir, but we haven't got our radios."
"General will send help," I whispered. "Rescue party."
"Yes, Sir, that's what we expect. Any time now. You rest," she added.
"Giving orders, Major?"
"Yes Sir, medical orders, Sir."
"Hmm..."
I passed out again. Sorry, I know that's hardly up to my usual heroic standards, but then, even us heroes on occasion have a bad day.
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So I missed most of what happened next. My team filled me in later, about Ferretti and SG-2 plus SG-3 and half a dozen volunteers charging through the gate, guns at the ready, met by a mass of silent children. There was no resistance, they simply walked through to where we were waiting, picked me up and put me on a stretcher.
The aliens didn't respond or resist.
Except, Daniel said with a shake of the head, every last one of them stood in a line between us and the gate, like running a gauntlet, each one reaching out to touch me, and copying exactly the words and moans and sounds I'd made.
Daniel shivered when he told me about it. I think it bothered him a lot. Bothers me, and I didn't even hear it, just heard him tell about it. Still gives me the shivers thinking about it, though.
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I've spent the last five weeks with my left arm in a cast from shoulder to fingertips, uncomfortable, frustrated, bored. The bones are knitting perfectly. Doc said it's because of the way they were broken, neatly, precisely, almost surgically.
I'll remember that, next time curious aliens want to break my bones. Make sure they do a nice, neat job.
They heal better that way.
----------------------------
We've made P4F-869 off-limits.
Damn good thing.
I wouldn't want innocent ears to hear some of the words I taught those aliens. Not fit for polite company.
But then, I wasn't worrying about that, at the time.
Broken bones are a distraction, you know?
***FINIS***