Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
I guess this has to be set before season seven, but I have no specific season in mind. Feedback would be loved.
*snuggles nellie*
*
In the end, she hadn't done anything at all that'd resulted in getting him home sooner. She and the rest of SG-1 had argued, debated, threatened even pleaded but the Tregata were unwavering in their stance: Colonel O'Neill had done something unacceptable, and retribution had to be taken.
Any kind of military operation to rescue him had been completely out of the question. The Tregata's level of technology was so far beyond their own that Daniel had wondered aloud a few times whether they had any contact with the Asgard or the Furlings - other old races with amazing technology.
They'd never received that answer and, ultimately, it hadn't mattered. Exactly 365 days after the Colonel was taken one Earth year. Deliberate? he was returned.
The Tregata were 'nice enough to send them a message' (she'd come to appreciate those rare occasions where General Hammond let his sarcasm get the better of him) and SG-1 the three member SG-1 were rapidly dispatched to retrieve him.
They were paranoid of course, adhering exactly to the Tregata's code of behaviour (they really didn't want what'd happened to the Colonel to happen to any of them), but then he was standing before them. Right there.
Right there.
He looked like he'd been treated well. Clean, well fed, well groomed, still wearing his also clean uniform. Maybe they'd only just given that back to him. Maybe he'd been wearing it the entire time.
They spoke to him briefly, to assure him how glad they were to see him and that he was going home, and then very carefully 'thanked' the Tregata before hightailing it through the gate.
It didn't escape anyone's notice that he hadn't said a word the entire time.
*
Janet's prognosis was good. He was in excellent physical condition; if anything it'd gone up slightly, most likely because he hadn't had access to those foods that were...well, the foods he liked to eat.
It wasn't what she'd expected. It wasn't what any of them had expected.
And he still hadn't spoken.
*
MacKenzie evidently didn't get much (anything) out of him, and until that changed there was no chance of the Colonel working at the SGC in any capacity.
They took turns sitting with him in the quarters he'd been assigned. Talking to him about things he'd missed, getting him up to date on the missions over the last year. Watching old and new to him episodes of The Simpsons. She'd taped them for him every week they were on.
Daniel found her one day, crying in her lab.
*
Late one Tuesday evening, he smiled.
*
Sam rapidly got tired of giving him 'space' and 'time to adjust' (what was it about MacKenzie that meant he always spoke in clichιs?), and told the Colonel as much. Apart from those few times they managed to drag him out, to remind him of what the Earth looked like, he spent every waking hour in his quarters.
Swapping one prison for another.
Judging by the look he gave her he was well aware of what he was doing, which only infuriated her more.
*
She said it. One morning while he was sitting on the edge of his bed drinking from a mug of coffee, she said it. The one thing she hadn't said in all the hours of talking to him while he pretended not to listen.
"I missed you."
*
They took him to his house, not bothering to tell him that they'd made sure it'd been looked after that was evident enough. He spent most of his time standing up, running his hands over things pictures, shelves, his chess set. They stood back, keeping out of his way.
He spent longest of all with the picture of his family, and that was when it happened.
"You."
They were so surprised that he'd actually spoken that it took them a few moments to respond.
"Colonel?"
"You." He replied, finally turning his head to look at the three of them. "No picture. Wrong."
As Teal'c told him that could be remedied, Sam was already thinking not about the fact that he'd spoken, but *how* he'd spoken. Even with those few words his voice had been rough, coarse. As if an unfamiliar activity.
He didn't speak again that day.
*
Three days later she told him her theory, as they sat on a park bench in what was becoming one of his slowly increasing visits outside.
"You weren't allowed to speak." He didn't look away from the swings he'd been staring at for a while. "Either you were punished when you did, or they somehow took away your ability to God knows they probably had the technology to do that."
He didn't deny it, but his head lowered. She knew she was still missing something.
"Sir?"
Closing his eyes, he began to talk haltingly. "Room. Bare. When I...needed...things. They just...'poof'."
"They simply appeared?"
He nodded.
That made sense. They'd seen the Tregata use transportation technology before.
"Food. Razor thing. When done...'poof'."
They disappeared.
"That was it," he cleared his throat, obviously having difficulty with all the words, "they took away my..." he gestured to his throat. "Never saw anyone."
It hit her. Oh God, it hit her. "You didn't interact with anyone at all? You were completely alone? For an entire *year*?"
"Couldn't hum," was his response, his right hand rubbing slowly over a knee, "missed that."
As Sam stared at him she tried to envision it. From being who he was before and despite having all his senses intact, to never seeing anyone. Never speaking. Never touching. Never smelling someone who'd applied too much perfume. No phone calls, no letters, no interaction. No communication at all.
The anger that surged through her body was really quite impressive, but instead of kicking the crap out of the bench she moved and touched the hand on his knee.
It stopped moving.
She'd been hesitant about making any physical contact with him before, not knowing what they may have done to him. Now it simply seemed essential.
When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Talked to you," his free hand moved to his lowered head, "in here. Confused me a lot."
Sam laughed, not at all surprised to feel tears on her face.
He sighed. "Missed that most."
Her hand squeezed tighter, until he finally turned his over and their fingers meshed together. "I missed you making me do that," she murmured.
They sat there for hours, watching the park, watching the people. And even as it grew darker, windier, even as they stood up to make their way back to the SGC...he never once let go of her hand.
~FINIS