Bound Reflections
by Carlyn
Part 9

Back to Part 8

-25-

"Well, apparently Daniel slept through the night," Jack deduced, glancing blearily at his wristwatch. He groaned softly and rolled quickly out of bed, jumped in the shower, and rushed to the infirmary.

Turning the corner to Daniel's room, Jack reflexively pursed his lips in apprehension. Samantha Carter and Janet Fraiser walked slowly towards him, both looking distinctly unhappy.

"Carter," he greeted his 2IC. "Doc, everything okay?"

"He's fine, sir," Janet said reassuringly, knowing what Jack was really asking.

Noting Carter's brow raise and her frown deepen, he pressed further. "What's going on?"

The women shared a pained look before Janet said, "Daniel's decided he doesn't want visitors today?"

"Actually, what he said was he wanted to be left alone," Carter embellished with a sigh.

"Ah," Jack smirked, "taken the Garbo route, has he?"

"You think this is funny?" Sam accused, her eyes narrowed angrily.

"No, Carter, I don't," Jack returned, carefully keeping his own temper in check. "Not a damn thing about this situation is funny."

"Alright, let's move this away from Daniel's doorway, shall we?" Janet made shooing motions at them until they started walking. Midway through the main ward, Jack stepped to the side, out of the line of traffic and pulled up. Folding his arms against his chest, he straightened and turned to Carter.

"I'm sorry, sir," she uttered softly before he could open his mouth. "That was uncalled for."

Suppressing a wince at the wounded look she bore, Jack nodded. "You were just defending Daniel. I didn't mean to sound insensitive."

"I know that, sir. It's just so hard, seeing him like that."

Cutting his eyes to Janet, he relaxed when she offered a comforting smile. Carter's mood was less about Daniel's condition and more about her own inability to help him.

"Carter," he said, his tone a mix between 'it'll be alright' and 'buck up, soldier,' "This is what he does. Daniel prefers to deal with things on his own. You know that if he was able, he'd be holed up in his office or at home right now.

"He's doing okay, all things considered," he continued, glancing to Janet, who nodded confirmation. "He just needs some time.

"Now, I know you have some doodad or other in your lab that requires your attention..."

"Actually," Janet interjected, "I could use your help testing that liquid that was found in Sarah Gardner's apartment. If you have time."

"Sure." Sam brightened a bit, conspicuously pleased at the chance to do something positive for Daniel. "Let me check in with Lieutenant Sutter and I'll be right with you." Without waiting for Jack's dismissal, Sam headed for the phone on the wall across the infirmary.

Turning an inquisitive eye on Janet, Jack asked, "Sutter?"

"She's working on a project with Dr. Lee and a few of the other civilian scientists. Sam's taken an interest, but..." Janet shrugged slightly.

Raising a hand, Jack nodded knowingly at her apparent inability to provide the details. "Techonobabble. Got it."

Janet smiled at the dramatic cringe that accompanied the comment. Her smile softened a bit. "You know, when Daniel asked to be left alone, I'm sure he didn't mean you. Why don't you go sit with him?"

"He's really okay?"

"He's okay. He says he just doesn't feel up to company today. In retrospect, it might have been better if we'd backed off right away, given him time to process everything before we pressed him for details."

"Yeah," Jack sighed, "that's a fine line, though. If you give him too much space you might never get him to open up. Daniel doesn't share his pain willingly."

"No," Janet huffed. "He could give Teal'c a run for his money in a stoicism contest."

"And Teal'c wouldn't stand a chance in the stubbornness event," Jack added with a grin.

Sharing a calming chuckle, they turned as Carter approached.

"All set," Sam announced. "Whenever you're ready."

"I just need to tell Karen where I'll be. Colonel, I assume you'd like to know as soon as we have anything?"

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Doc. Carter."

"Sir," Carter acknowledged his dismissal and, on Janet's gesture to precede her, led her friend in search of Karen.

His lips compressed in anticipation of what he'd find when he got there, Jack made his slow way to Daniel's room. Peeking around the door jamb, he straightened and moved stealthily over the threshold, hoping that the closed eyelids meant Daniel was sleeping. But the closer he got to the bed, the more apparent the rigidness of the occupant became.

"I'm gonna need a huge honkin' 'Do Not Disturb' sign, aren't I?"

Jack paused mid-step, his mouth slipping sideways in an indignant smirk. He noted with irritation that Daniel hadn't even opened his eyes. "Well, good morning to you, too," he grunted, resuming his trek to his lover's bedside.

"Maybe if I add, 'Or I'll Zat You,'" Daniel muttered absently, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Choosing to ignore the barb, Jack nonchalantly reached over and lifted the lid from Daniel's breakfast tray. Frowning at the mostly untouched meal, he turned the look of dissatisfaction on the man in the bed. "I hear you 'Vont to be alone,'" he drawled in a bad imitation of the Swedish actress, Greta Garbo.

Daniel let his arm drop onto the mattress and squinted menacingly at his partner. "I'd have thought that even you would understand that meant 'stay away.'"

Matching Daniel's threatening glare, Jack maintained eye contact until the younger man relented, closing his eyes with a tired sigh.

"What do you want, Jack?" Daniel asked on the exhale.

"I don't want anything," Jack said, tugging the covers further up Daniel's chest. "I just came in to see how you are this morning."

Daniel blew an exasperated breath, his eyes snapping open to rake the ceiling in a desperate arc. "I'm suffocating is how I am. I've got people hovering over me twenty-four hours a day. I can't think. I can't breathe —"

"Alright, alright," Jack placated, soothingly rubbing his lover's arm. "I can take a hint."

Swinging his irritated gaze in Jack's direction, the instant his eyes landed on his lover's face, Daniel bit his lip against the smile that fought to take over his own features. His cheeks twitched with the effort of holding it back.

Jack maintained his absolutely straight face, disturbing the expression just enough to raise his left eyebrow in a contrary waggle.

Daniel gave in, snorting softly.

"Okay," Jack said, satisfied that he had at least lightened Daniel's spirits a bit. "I'll leave you to it, then." Shifting his hand to Daniel's shoulder he squeezed gently. "I'm gonna stop back by later to check on you, though."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," Daniel confessed, taking in his lover's face with an adoring gaze.

Flashing a contented grin, Jack gave the shoulder one last squeeze and, spinning theatrically, sauntered to the door. Turning back as he shuffled into the hallway, he smirked pleasantly and called back to Daniel, "You know it might not be so easy to get rid of Teal'c. I'm not sure he gets the whole Garbo thing."

Grinning broadly at the adorably snarky look Daniel shot him, Jack headed to his office to await Fraiser's call.

He was halfway through his in box when his phone rang, the sergeant on the other end telling him that Hammond requested his presence in Med Lab three.

"General."

Hammond turned at the greeting, nodding recognition. "Colonel. You know why you're here, so why don't we just get to it? Dr. Fraiser?"

Janet automatically stiffened respectfully. "Yes, sir. Major Carter and I have analyzed the substance in the vials brought back by Major Ferretti."

Jack turned his attention to the medical containment unit in the middle of the lab as Janet Fraiser began to speak. An open vial sat on the pedestal inside, a vague, yellowish mist hovering just above it. "And?"

"Its nish'ta," Janet supplied, "or something very much like nish'ta."

Screwing up his face, Jack grumbled, "Ah, hell, that stuff Seth used to brainwash his followers?"

Sam nodded somberly, her mouth ticking ruefully at the mention of the Goa'uld she'd been forced to kill with a ribbon device.

"Where would Dr. Gardner have gotten nish'ta?" Hammond swept them all with his gaze, tossing the question out to anyone who could answer it.

"My guess is she manufactured it herself," Sam offered, her melancholy fading with the reassertion of her officer persona.

"Could she do that?" Jack felt his hackles twitch, his estimation of the danger Sarah Gardner posed rising precipitously.

"Yes, sir, I think so. Seth was able to manufacture it here. Both Apophis and Hathor used a form of the drug, so it's obviously part of the Goa'uld arsenal. If Sarah's retained her Goa'uld memories, she would know how to make it."

"Well, that would go a long way towards explaining Agent Webb's behavior," Hammond surmised. "Do you suppose she intended to use it on Dr. Jackson?"

"What?" Jack's sharp utterance echoed lightly around the enclosed space. He swallowed convulsively, recalling suddenly what had happened to Daniel when the younger man was under the influence of Hathor's drug. Groaning inwardly, he remembered belatedly that Osiris had not been the first Goa'uld to rape his lover.

"Assuming each batch is different enough that previous immunities are nullified, if she wanted Daniel under her control..." Janet's sympathetic gaze wandered to Jack, "this substance would have accomplished that goal."

Nodding tersely, Hammond thanked the women for their report and excused himself.

Feeling an overwhelming need to check on Daniel, Jack followed quickly behind his CO, taking the most direct route that would lead him to his partner's side.

The corner of his lips lifted in a sloppy grin when the beloved figure came into view — slumped to one side, eyes closed, mouth hanging open in deep slumber. His own eyes lifting to the Jaffa sentry in the stool next to the bed, Jack's grin smoothed and widened, sincere thanks lighting his features. He returned the reverent bow Teal'c extended, and gazing with open adoration at Daniel's recumbent form for a few seconds longer, went back to work, content that his lover was well cared for.

Jack was pleasantly surprised by the Daniel that met him the following morning. The formerly sallow complexion — at least that portion not darkened by bruises — had given way to a more normal peach tone. There was even a bit of a sparkle in Daniel's morning-dulled blue eyes.

"Hey," Jack called brightly as he sauntered to the bed.

"Hey," Daniel echoed, briefly lifting his eyes from the yellow pad resting on the rollaway table in front of him. His pen skittered across the surface as he hurriedly scrawled something on the paper.

"You're lookin' better this morning," Jack observed, though he noted that Daniel squinted fiercely at his scribbling hand. Catching sight of Daniel's glasses on the bedside table he reached down and reverently fingered them. "Still can't wear the glasses, huh?"

"No." Daniel's pen never slowed in its task.

Jack turned his head sideways, skimming his eyes over Daniel's notes. "Whatcha writin'?"

Daniel sighed with barely disguised impatience. "General Hammond asked for a written report," he said as though the answer should have been obvious. "There's a bunch of stuff we didn't cover the other day."

"He said when you feel up to it, Daniel. I don't think he meant the minute you were able to sit upright without a bunch of pillows supporting you."

Daniel flapped his hand in frustration, waving Jack away like he would a buzzing fly. "Would you... I need to get this down while it's still fresh in my mind," he blurted quickly, his attention still on his pad.

'Right. Like you'll actually forget it anytime soon,' Jack groaned silently.

While Jack contemplated whether to press Daniel on his apparently obsessive need to record the details of his assault, a soft rattling sound drew his attention to the doorway.

"Here's your breakfast, Dr. Jackson," Karen chirped. Setting the tray on the edge of the rollaway table, she purposefully slid it towards him.

Daniel snatched the pad from beneath the tray, clutching it protectively against his chest.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered, easing the pad back onto the corner of the table. Glancing up, he noticed a coffee cup on the far side of the tray and moved his left hand towards it. He frowned deeply when the cup disappeared from under his questing fingers.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson," Karen commiserated, holding the cup just out of his reach. "Dr. Fraiser said you have to eat before you get this."

Daniel's lower lip poked out noticeably. "You're kidding me."

Raising curious brows, Jack reached over and removed the metal cover from Daniel's tray to reveal a small bowl of what looked like creamed cereal.

"Hey, that looks yummy, huh?" Jack opined with mock cheerfulness.

Cutting an annoyed glare in Jack's direction, Daniel turned pleading eyes on Karen. "Really, I don't think I can eat this." He glanced with distaste at the bowl before again making what Jack referred to as his "homeless puppy eyes" at the nurse.

Karen tipped her head knowingly. "Now, Dr. Jackson, you wouldn't ask me to explain to Dr. Fraiser how I let you wheedle this cup of coffee from me without first eating something?"

As Daniel's imploring grin slowly morphed into a disconcerted scowl, Jack leaned into the nurse's shoulder, whispering from the side of his mouth, "Ooh, playing on his sense of fairness. Good move."

Sighing dramatically, Daniel lifted the bowl of gruel and in a half dozen sweeps of his spoon, downed the contents. Finished, he raised the bowl and looked expectantly at the coffee, his expression approximating that of a difficult child presenting a clean dinner plate for his promised dessert.

Karen smiled approvingly and set the coffee back on the tray.

The cup barely had time to settle before Daniel exchanged it for his empty bowl. Bringing the coffee immediately to his lips, he gulped one mouthful.

His brow bunching scornfully over the bridge of his nose, he held the cup away from him, as though it contained some particularly malodorous substance and raised miffed, betrayed eyes at the nurse. "This is decaf," he ground out, settling the cup on the tray with decidedly less reverence than he'd lifted it.

Pursing his lips in a silent 'oh' Jack turned to Karen. "Nice try, but you can't fool a coffee snob."

"Connoisseur," Daniel corrected testily.

'Snob,' Jack mouthed as Karen leaned forward to remove the tray.

Smiling a sincere apology at Daniel, she nodded respectfully to the colonel and exited.

"That's only gonna work this once!" Daniel shouted after her.

"Hey, take it easy before you blow a vein or something," Jack groused, gesturing to the blood vessel prominent in Daniel's temple.

Rubbing angrily at the indicated spot, Daniel fell back into his pillows. He plucked the pad off the rollaway table with one hand, digging in the blankets for his hastily discarded pen with the other.

"Why don't you leave this for a while?" Jack suggested mildly, bumping Daniel's blindly questing hand to retrieve the sought-after pen. Easing the pad from his lover's fingers, he placed it on the top of Daniel's makeshift desk and rolled the table to the bottom of the bed. Capturing Daniel's narrowed eyes with his earnest gaze, he invited, "Let's talk."

Daniel sighed. "I'd have thought after what happened the last time we tried that, talking's the last thing you'd want to do."

"Yeah, about that." Jack walked around the bed, pulled the tall stool to the bedside and settled himself on the edge of the seat. Glancing at the pen he twirled in nervous fingers, he grimaced slightly then slid fully into the chair and raised his eyes to Daniel's.

"I'm sorry what I said upset you like that. I should have known —"

"Jack." Daniel raised a hand to halt Jack's self-recrimination. "It wasn't your fault. From what Janet tells me, it's impossible at this point to know what might set me off."

Jack shot him a dubious smirk and Daniel let his hand drop tiredly to the bed. "Look, I don't want everyone having to walk on eggshells around me," he sputtered, the declaration edged with irritation.

Shifting onto his right hip, Daniel infused his expression with sincerity, his eyes intense and imploring.

"I need you to tell me the truth. I don't want you candy-coating things because you're afraid of making me uneasy." He grinned crookedly and his eyes glinted with a hint of mischief. "Besides, you know I'll know you're lying. And right now I just don't have the energy to waste on trying to figure out what you're really trying to say."

Jack flashed a rueful grin, nodding his agreement.

"Thank you," Daniel breathed. "Now, can I have my pen back?" Rolling onto his back, he held out his hand expectantly.

"No," Jack replied, leaning over to pointedly set the pen on the bedside table, out of Daniel's reach. When his partner raised an annoyed brow, he hurriedly continued, "Like you said, there's a lot that we didn't cover in the debriefing."

Pursing his lips at the somber cast to Jack's features, Daniel raked the inside of his lip with his teeth. "Okay," he said, unable to keep a slight hesitation from his voice.

Jack eyed him critically. "You sure you want to know everything?"

"Jack."

That single word spoke volumes to the hearer when coupled with Daniel's near-exasperated tone, weary eyes and pinched mouth.

Drawing a deep breath, Jack nodded understanding. He stirred uncomfortably for a moment. Finally, hooking his toes behind the footrest, he leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"We only touched on my conversation with Sarah yesterday," he began, watching Daniel carefully for any sign of stress. "This whole 'damsel in distress' thing she's been pulling with you is nothing more than an elaborate ruse to get you under her control." The word 'again' perched on the tip of his tongue, but Jack managed to keep it from slipping past his lips.

His forehead puckering in dismay, Daniel bowed his head, too chagrined by his previous defense of Sarah's actions to hold Jack's gaze.

"The stalking apparently had a dual purpose," Jack continued. "She needed to keep tabs on you so she could pick her moment to pounce. And secondly," Jack paused, letting his breath out in a slow stream, "she needed blackmail photos."

Daniel's head came up slowly, his mouth dropping open.

Jack grinned apologetically, honestly wishing he had been wrong in attributing nefarious motives to Sarah's interest in Daniel. "She was planning to get your cooperation by threatening to expose us, our relationship. She knew you'd do... anything to keep me from facing charges."

Daniel's bottom lip quivered slightly before he flashed a fleeting, bitter smile. "She was right."

"Yeah." Jack's corresponding smirk was severe. The ironic twist to this situation — that Daniel had possibly escaped Sarah's clutches only because he was tightly caught in Osiris's grasp — was so horribly typical of the kind of crap fate seemingly had been throwing at Daniel his entire life.

Inwardly shaking himself from such a morose observation, Jack shrugged. "When I talked to her the other day, I tried to get her to tell me what exactly she had in mind. But, of course, she clammed up tight."

Seemingly half lost in his own musings, Daniel startled visibly at this revelation. "The other day?"

Forcibly masking his self-loathing at his carelessness, Jack ran through the list of possible responses.

"Jack?" Pushing himself up with his elbow, Daniel attempted to lift himself high enough to make his menacing glare convincing. "I know you," he said tightly. "You wouldn't leave the base while I'm confined to the infirmary. So, when, exactly, did you see Sarah?"

"Before we got you back," Jack equivocated. "When she was arrested. I told you that."

Shrinking slightly under the open disbelief in Daniel's glower, Jack rationalized his omission to himself. 'It's not really a lie.'

"But you've seen her again. More recently," Daniel accused.

"Daniel," Even as he attempted to block the trail Daniel's inquisitive mind was wandering, he knew it was hopeless.

"General Hammond saw her, too," Daniel recalled with increased agitation. "She's here, isn't she? Sarah's locked up here on base. She's been here the whole time."

Without waiting for Jack to confirm or deny his suspicion, Daniel shifted to the opposite side of the bed, pulling his legs towards the edge, clearly intent on getting up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jack slid off the stool, scooting quickly around to stand in Daniel's way.

"I have to see Sarah," Daniel exclaimed. Sitting up as straight as he was able, he grabbed the edge of the blanket with his right hand.

"Hold on," Jack argued, grasping Daniel's hand and attempting to loosen his hold on the cover. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Daniel threw his weight backward and, bringing his left arm up, pushed at Jack's chest with a splayed hand. "I didn't ask your opinion," he snarled, trying to shake loose of Jack's grip.

"Were you planning to ask mine?" Janet Fraiser called peevishly from the doorway.

Silently thanking Fraiser for the backup, Jack released his hold on Daniel and moved back.

"What's going on here?" Janet leveled her disapproving squint on first one, then the other. When neither man willingly offered an explanation she turned pointedly to Jack. "Colonel?"

Irritated that this woman, a full foot shorter than himself, could make him feel like a chastised schoolboy, Jack gazed unapologetically at his lover.

"Daniel's insisting on getting out of bed," he responded, aggravated that he sounded like a tattletale. "I was trying to convince him to rethink that course of action."

Rolling her eyes dramatically at the self-serving spin of the colonel's answer, Janet turned her glare on Daniel. "Well?"

The patient huddled stiffly, refusing to look at them, a determined frown knotting his brow.

"Sarah Gardner is being held here in the mountain. I need to talk to her," he explained slowly, placing deliberate emphasis on the last sentence.

Aware of at least some of Daniel's history with Sarah, Janet softened her scowl. Sighing sadly, she shook her head. "No," she said flatly.

When Daniel's intense gaze rose to meet hers, Janet swallowed at the disquietude saturating his eyes. She shifted, her compassion for her friend patently warring with her need to keep her patient from further harm.

Finally, Janet called on her practical physician reserves for strength. Straightening determinedly, she shook her head. "Daniel, I'm sorry. I really don't want you out of the infirmary that long. You're not strong enough yet."

Considering her decision for just a moment, Daniel flung the covers back. Supporting himself on stiff arms, he slid his backside to the edge of the bed.

Feeling her eyes boring into him, Jack turned from Daniel's struggles to find Janet glaring daggers in his direction. He shrugged resignedly, unsure exactly what she expected him to do. He'd had about as much luck making Daniel do what was good for him as she had.

Grunting with pain, Daniel paused in his efforts to swipe hastily at a trickle of sweat on his temple. When the movement almost sent him headlong over the side of the bed, Jack stepped up and placed a supporting hand on his lover's arm.

"Daniel." Jack was careful to surround the anger in his voice with concern.

"Jack." Daniel's unflinching stare and tense tone held clear notice — neither Jack nor Janet was going to dissuade him from his purpose.

Squeezing his lips in protest, Jack encircled Daniel's arm with his secure grip and turned to Fraiser.

"Doc, you wanna get us a wheelchair?"

Obviously irritated that Jack had switched sides on her, Janet snapped. "Colonel, Daniel is not strong enough to go traipsing all over the SGC."

Jack shot her an exasperated scowl. "Well, look at him. You're not gonna keep him in this bed."

"Not without restraints or sedation," Daniel affirmed.

Stiffening at the remark, Janet glared at each of them in turn and stomped off.

"That was a low blow," Jack muttered.

"I know," Daniel sighed. "I'll apologize later." Disentangling his cast from the sheets, he swung sideways, dangling both legs off the side of the bed.

Detecting the strain of overtaxed muscles, Jack frowned at the dark circles accompanying the other marks on Daniel's careworn face.

"You know, maybe you should wait a day or so. Give yourself a chance to rest —"

"You know I won't rest until I've talked to Sarah." Daniel winced and gingerly stretched his back. Shifting his weight to his right hip, he fixed determined eyes on Jack. "I have to see her, you know that."

Gazing into the intransigent sapphire depths, Jack nodded understanding. He briefly returned Daniel's tired smile.

Janet Fraiser clipped briskly back into the room, her carriage translating her disapproval of Daniel's decision to defy her medical directive. Pushing the wheelchair next to the bed, she angled it so that Daniel could pivot on his uninjured foot, trusting the colonel to guide and control Daniel's descent into the chair.

"Can I get some clothes?" Daniel asked, lifting the edge of his hospital gown.

Janet observed him for a moment, her trained eye easily detecting his off-center position and the fatigued dullness of his eyes.

"I really should just sedate you," she finally said.

"Janet..."

"No, Daniel. Don't apologize," Janet cut him off tersely. "I'll have Karen bring you some scrubs."

"What about the IV?"

"That's where I'm drawing the line," Janet asserted. "And," she added, waving an admonishing finger at both men, "I want it understood that you are doing this against doctor's orders and in spite of my protest."

"I understand that," Daniel declared, his determination tempered slightly by the guilt of having made her angry.

Shooting a final glare at Jack — one that promised severe discomfort at his next physical — Janet stalked off to find Karen.

Daniel sighed sadly, slumping further to the right.

"Hey, you wanna lie back down until the scrubs come?"

Shaking his head as much to clear it as to respond to Jack's inquiry, Daniel pushed himself upright. "If I lay back down I might not get up again."

"So, maybe you should reconsider —"

"Jack." Daniel warned.

"I'm just sayin'."

Daniel hung his head tiredly, and Jack quickly skated his hand up Daniel's arm and clasped his shoulder, shoring up his lover's listing frame. He grimaced at the tiny tremors he felt assailing the stress-ridden body.

Staring at Daniel's ear a moment, Jack sighed. "I didn't want to be right, you know."

Daniel looked up, weary eyes scanning Jack's pinched face. He accepted the apology with a weak smile.

They waited in silence, Jack's strong grip boosting Daniel's resolve, until Karen came in with the scrubs, a robe and a pair of slippers. Smiling encouragingly at the men, she laid the clothing on the bed.

"Do you need help with these Dr. Jackson?"

"I got it," Jack assured her.

"Yes, sir," Karen assented, turning to leave.

"Karen," Daniel called, "do you think you could get me a pair of crutches."

"What for?" Jack's brow quirked suspiciously.

"I don't want to go in there in a wheelchair, Jack."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack snarled. Huffing, he turned to Karen. "See what Fraiser says."

"Yes, sir." Karen replied and went to do as ordered.

Shaking his head at his obstinate archaeologist, Jack snagged the scrubs off the bed with one hand, keeping Daniel upright with the other. He shook out the pants and, leaning down to help Daniel get his legs into them, he mentally prepared himself to once again confront Sarah Gardner — and to protect Daniel at all costs.

-26-

Jack had gotten the scrubs pants on, slid Daniel's left foot into a slipper — tossing the useless right one unceremoniously over his shoulder — and transferred Daniel to the wheelchair with minimal trouble. But removing the hospital gown without disconnecting the IV was proving problematic.

"Where the hell's Carter when you need her," Jack muttered, as he tried to determine their best course of action.

With his leg pressed against the wheelchair, Jack sensed the vibration translating through the conveyance from Daniel's shivering form. Holding himself upright and climbing into the wheelchair had completely used up all of the energy Daniel had managed to store in the previous twenty-four hours of uninterrupted bed rest. With perspiration from his exertions dampening his hospital gown, the air-conditioned atmosphere had quickly brought on goose bumps and shudders in the injured man.

Jack frowned at the bowed head. Leaning over his lover, he cupped Daniel's upper arm and ran his hand briskly over the chilled skin. Annoyed when his thumb caught in Daniel's sleeve, he scowled at it for a second before the corners of his mouth lifted in pleased surprise.

Straightening, he untied the closures at Daniel's neck and mid-back, and slid the gown over Daniel's shoulder. "Pull your arm out of there," Jack suggested, and turned to unhook the IV bag from its pole.

Daniel's head lifted slowly, his fuzzy brain taking a moment to understand Jack's direction. Sitting back, he did as instructed, raising a puzzled brow when Jack pushed the IV bag through the arm of the gown as soon as his hand emerged.

Stretching to retrieve the scrubs top from the bed, Jack fluffed it open then threaded the IV bag along the route Daniel's arm would follow. Pushing it up through the bottom with the intention of going through the sleeve, he cursed under his breath when the forward motion was stalled. Discovering that the damn thing was a tighter fit through the scrubs top than it had been through the arm of the hospital gown, Jack settled the scrubs enshrouded bag of solution in Daniel's lap and temporarily wrapped his archaeologist in his robe to keep him from getting further chilled while he worked the bag of solution through the hole.

After a minute of careful pinching and squeezing, the IV bag slithered out of the end of the sleeve. Jack hung the bag on the wheelchair's pole and as quickly as Daniel's limited range of motion would allow, pulled the scrubs top onto the archaeologist.

Once he had Daniel dressed, Jack bent down, pulling the tired man towards him. Encouraging Daniel to rest his head on the providentially positioned shoulder, he again draped the robe around Daniel's back. Gently maneuvering the injured man against the backrest, he pulled the robe as tightly as he could across the broad chest.

Finally, sliding Daniel's unresisting feet onto the footrests, Jack rose, groaning, to wait for Fraiser.

As if given her cue from the hallway, the little brown-haired spitfire whirled back into Daniel's room, brandishing a pair of crutches like she intended just to bash Daniel over the head with them and toss him back on the bed — and take out the colonel for good measure.

"And just how do you propose to get yourself around on crutches when you barely have the strength to sit up straight?"

Daniel stiffened slightly, though his head remained bowed. His long fingers curled around the armrests of the wheelchair, their grip exerting enough force to turn his knuckles white. Daniel was obviously incensed at Janet's insinuation that she knew better than he did what he was capable of. But looking at the slumped figure of his lover, Jack was starting to wonder if sheer hardheadedness was going to get Daniel through this time.

The shivering was barely detectable now, but the effects of stress and overexertion on his already weakened frame were harder to disguise. Still, there was an unmistakable stiffness in Daniel's back — a bit of sweat and fatigue hadn't squelched the fire of his resolve.

And neither would Fraiser.

Slowly, inevitably, Daniel's head came up, and he pulled himself to his full seated height, fixing the petite doctor with a hard blue stare.

Fraiser spent several minutes meeting him glare for glare, before finally just pushing the crutches into Jack's chest. Snarling, "Do not put weight on that ankle," at Daniel, she once again stomped from the room.

The moment she was gone, Daniel deflated.

Leaning the crutches against the bed, Jack knelt down in front of his lover. "Hey, you sure you can do this?" He kneaded the younger man's arm with tender strokes of his strong fingers.

Tipping his head sideways, Daniel smiled a brief, thankful smile. "Just give me a minute to collect myself, okay?" he said, dropping his face into his upturned hand.

"Sure, take all the time you need," Jack agreed.

Leaving Daniel to his 'collecting' Jack called Hammond and filled him in on their plan to interview Sarah, requesting once again that the cameras be shut off and the guards left in the hallway. "This is personal for Daniel, sir, so I'd like to do it without an audience," he explained. Having received the general's approval, Jack called up to Level 16, and instructed the guard who answered to move the prisoner to an interview room.

Then, making sure the IV was secure on the wheelchair's pole, he positioned the ends of the crutches on the footrest next to Daniel's casted right foot, tucking them in the crook of Daniel's left arm, and slowly pushed his lover towards his date with his ex-girlfriend.

The few people they encountered on Level 21 all watched Daniel's still form with a mixture of sympathy and awe as Jack pushed him by.

Backing Daniel into the elevator, Jack wished, not for the first time, that security cameras weren't necessary even in these confined spaces. Leaning over Daniel to punch the button for Level 16, he was hit with an almost overwhelming desire to stroke the back of Daniel's bowed head. Rather than attempt to offer the comfort covertly, he squeezed his hands into fists and shoved them deep into his pockets, leaning heavily against the elevator wall.

After studying Daniel's nape for a moment, Jack tore his eyes away, and was surprised to learn that the elevator doors were still open. He lifted an eyebrow, and glared at the airman who peeked timidly around the opening. Smirking with satisfaction at the retreating figure, Jack pushed himself off the wall with his foot and, stepping around Daniel, again punched the button for Level 16.

When, after a five count, the doors still had not closed, Jack reached for the phone. He eyed the doors suspiciously then jerked his gaze to Daniel, as they finally pulled together. "Did you see that?"

Daniel's eyes opened minutely and he uttered a barely heard, "Hmmm?"

"Never mind," Jack mumbled, gently patting Daniel's shoulder. "As you were," he added with a chagrined grimace.

The elevator made the short trip up to Level 16 and the doors opened smoothly. Jack wheeled Daniel out and waited, expectantly. He shot an irritated brow at the elevator doors that once again paused before closing.

Nearing the security station, Jack called to one of the guards, "How long have those elevator doors been sticking like that?"

The three guards looked quizzically at each other before one responded, "I don't know, sir. You're the first to mention it."

"Well, get Siler on it, would you?"

"Right away, sir," the female sergeant replied, lifting the phone even as he turned away to resume their trek.

Jack pushed Daniel down the corridor and around a corner. Halting midway between the security station and the holding cells, he slid the crutches from their resting place in the crook of Daniel's arm and leaned them against the wall. Then he stood patiently next to the wheelchair, having promised Daniel all the time he required to gather his strength. He glanced up and down the hallway, not surprised to find it empty. Aside from a few offices for senior security staff and a bunk room, not likely to be occupied at this time of day, there was very little to attract personnel to this end of Level 16.

Turning his attention to Daniel, Jack frowned disconcertedly. Daniel's current posture was pretty much the same one he had adopted back in the infirmary. The archaeologist sat motionless, tilted to the right, his elbow planted on the armrest, hand supporting his bowed head. His breathing was slow and steady. Except for the fact that Daniel's left hand endlessly worried the seam of his robe, Jack would have believed the younger man had fallen asleep.

Though Daniel's position was unusual for the activity, Jack suspected his lover was practicing his own form of kel'no'reem. Since Daniel had retaken human form, he had been spending time with Teal'c, learning from the Jaffa the secrets of garnering his inner strength to aid in fighting the battles they faced daily.

Glancing at his watch, Jack guessed that the upcoming battle was going to require more strength than Daniel had yet needed to pull from his core. He gazed at his lover's profile and smiled softly. Though externally he appeared almost completely done in, Daniel had vast stores of internal energy, in the form of determination and commitment, from which to draw. Jack had long ago ceased being surprised at the amazing resilience of his friend.

For the most part, Jack had also ceased telling Daniel outright that he couldn't do whatever it was Daniel proposed to do. It had taken a while, but he'd finally made the connection between his overt opposition and Daniel's increased determination to follow through on a chosen course of action that, while unquestionably thoroughly considered, never took Daniel's well-being into account. Witness his encounters with Amaunet and Reese, to name but a few.

Slowly, Jack had learned that gentle prodding in another direction was more effective in bringing Daniel back from the brink of potential disaster. He groaned inwardly, wishing he had offered Fraiser the benefit of his hard-learned lessons.

A change in Daniel's breathing heralded the younger man's return to cognizance. As the tousled head lifted, he gingerly stretched the muscles in his shoulders, neck and back, gradually reviving a body enervated by forced inactivity. Daniel tipped his head back, displaying eyes alight with purpose.

'Too bright,' Jack observed. 'No doubt trying to cover just how much the thought of encountering that psycho bitch again is freaking him out.' Jack smiled encouragingly, never letting on that he'd detected Daniel's uneasiness. 'Don't worry, babe. I've got your back,' he vowed silently.

"Hey, how ya doin'? You ready?" he inquired, resting a supportive hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"I'm not sure I'll ever really be ready for this," Daniel sighed ruefully. Ducking his head, he rubbed at his right brow then let his hand fall into his lap. "The whole thing is just so inconceivable. I spent days with her after Dr. Jordan's funeral, and I had no idea."

Despite his knees' protest, Jack knelt beside the wheelchair so that Daniel didn't have to shout up at him.

"Well, that was the point, right? Isn't that why Osiris let her take control?"

"Because he knew she was good at manipulating me?" Daniel's brow shot up irritably, then just as quickly plummeted, colliding in thought over the bridge of his nose. "Osiris told me that he sensed that I was uncomfortable around Sarah. I thought it was just the situation, you know, Goa'uld on the loose and all that."

"Sure." Jack's head bobbed understanding.

Dropping his gaze to the floor, Daniel shook his head in dismay. "He was right though. Even with five years distance and all my experiences since I last saw her, being around Sarah made me feel... vulnerable somehow."

Jack's lips parted slightly, but he managed to keep his jaw from dropping. It was so rare that Daniel openly confessed his feeling like this. And it had been quite some time since Jack had heard Daniel admit to any sort of weakness.

"Do you feel vulnerable now?" he inquired hesitantly, his protective instincts kicking in. Jack was sure that, like any good predator, Sarah would smell Daniel's fear.

Slightly taken aback by the question, Daniel gazed into the sheltering depths of Jack's intense brown eyes. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, a little," he replied quietly. "But you're going with me right?"

"You are not going anywhere without me ever again," Jack announced with conviction.

Daniel snorted. "General Hammond might have something to say about that." Sobering quickly, he added with a sigh, "Not that I'll be allowed to go anywhere any time soon."

Offering a supportive smirk and squeeze to Daniel's shoulder, Jack climbed painfully to his feet. "Good thing I'm a patient man, then."

Tipping his head back, Daniel flashed his own dubious smirk then puffed out a resigned breath. "Okay, let's do this," he grunted decisively, gripping the ends of the armrests firmly.

Jack studied his partner for a moment. Daniel was sitting up straighter; his eyes, while still outlined with bruises and fatigue-begotten creases, were more alert.

Retrieving the crutches from their resting place against the wall, Jack handed them over to Daniel and made sure his feet were positioned correctly on the wheelchair's footrest.

As he came around to the back of the chair, Jack pulled to an abrupt halt, eying the IV pole speculatively, as though just noticing it was there. Pursing his lips in a disconcerted moue, he cocked his head like an inquisitive dog.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"If we're not taking the wheelchair in the room with us, where are we going to hang the IV?" Jack loomed over his archaeologist as Daniel tilted his head back to study the object in question, his own brows rising in tandem with his lover's.

Staring through the IV bag for a second, Daniel reached around the crutches cradled in his elbow and, before Jack had an opportunity to protest, deftly removed the IV needle from the back of his hand. He held the sharp tip, still leaking fluid, over his shoulder to his partner.

"You'd better turn it off or we'll leave a trail of IV fluid all the way down the hall."

Snatching the needle from Daniel with less than good grace, Jack complained, "You know Fraiser is gonna blame me for this."

"How can she? You didn't know I'd take out the IV." Daniel poked at the small hole on the back of his hand, applying pressure to the wound when the trickle of blood became more of a flow.

Turning the fluid off at the control shunt Jack threaded the end Daniel had handed him through the hook holding the IV bag and tied it off. "Somehow, I think that won't matter to her," Jack said.

Daniel grinned. "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he snickered.

"Oh, no, my friend," Jack sing-songed, patting Daniel's shoulder sympathetically, "I've got a feeling that once Fraiser puts that IV back in, she's gonna slip something into the mix that'll knock you on your ass for a day or two."

Daniel peered over his shoulder, presenting Jack with a disgruntled scowl.

"Can we just get on with it? Please?" Daniel all but whined, flicking his unencumbered hand in the direction in which they'd been headed.

Jack sighed and slowly pushed the wheelchair down the indicated path.

As they rounded the corner to the interview room, the guards on duty snapped to attention. Waving for them to resume their former attitude, Jack parked the wheelchair in front of the door, setting the brakes on both wheels.

"The prisoner is inside, Colonel. Under guard."

"Yeah, thank you, Sergeant," Jack responded distractedly.

Coming around to the front of the wheelchair, Jack took the crutches Daniel held out to him and handed them off to one of the guards. He stooped down in front of Daniel, tapping first one calf and then the other to prompt the younger man to lift his feet so Jack could fold up the footrests.

"How do you want to do this?" Jack flipped his opened hand upward.

Watching his feet, careful to keep the right one off the concrete floor, Daniel leaned back and glanced up as Jack stood before him.

"Just, give me a hand," Daniel replied. Unfastening his robe, he pushed it off his shoulders and lifted his hand in Jack's direction.

Raising a quizzical brow at the hand suspended limply before his midsection, Jack ducked under it. Planting his feet on either side of Daniel's, he wrapped his arms firmly around his lover's back at chest level, carefully avoiding the bruises etched in his mind's eye. Exhaling as he lifted, Jack rose, pulling his archaeologist up with him. Once Daniel was upright, Jack slid his hands around to grip Daniel's biceps in a supporting hold.

As soon as he was convinced that Daniel wouldn't topple if he let go, Jack held out a hand for the crutches. Quickly tucking one under Daniel's left armpit, he held the second out for Daniel to position himself, noting with concern the fine sheen of perspiration on his lover's brow.

Stepping around the younger man, Jack retrieved the robe from the seat of the wheelchair, and holding it open behind Daniel, carefully guided first one arm then the other through the sleeves. Coming before his partner, he tied the robe closed and stood back.

Dragging tired eyes up to meet Jack's, Daniel attempted a convincingly confident smile, knowing immediately by Jack's answering frown, that he had failed to pull it off. He drew a deep breath, straightening his spine as much as possible.

Jack responded with a grin that more nearly resembled a grimace and motioned the guard to open the door.

The sergeant passed his keycard through the locking device, the hollow click of the mechanism echoing through the hall. Daniel's eyes twitched and his apprehensive gaze darted to the right, seeking to assure himself that the second guard was present, manning his post next to the door.

Swinging his gaze to his left, Daniel met his lover's keen, chocolate eyes.

Jack had not missed the reaction, slight as it was. And though his protective side screamed 'Push Daniel back into the wheelchair and return him to the infirmary, posthaste,' he chose instead to listen to his supportive side, the side Daniel needed now. Deepening the intensity of his gaze, he communicated to Daniel through their visual connection what he could not say out loud: 'You can do this. I'll be right here with you.'

Fortified by Jack's presence, Daniel nodded determinedly, indicating his readiness.

Moving closer to the younger man, Jack turned his attention back to the sergeant, who, on his gesture, pushed the door inward. Stepping into the room before them, the man turned instantly, placing his back against the door to prop it open.

Slowly and, at first, clumsily, moving forward, Daniel kept his eyes to the floor as he passed the guard, insuring that he did not entangle his crutches with the other man's feet.

"Daniel!"

The enthusiasm of Sarah's greeting battered him as effectively as a physical blow and Daniel was stopped by the force of it, his head jerking up spasmodically.

Sarah Gardner was on her feet the second Daniel hobbled through the door, the smile she brandished so wide, it was positively painful to look at. The smile transformed instantly into a menacing scowl as Jack maneuvered around his stalled archaeologist and stepped into the room.

Jack locked eyes with Sarah, the two of them resembling nothing so much as a pair of leopards staring each other down over a choice gazelle carcass.

'That's right, sister' Jack silently crowed, 'Daniel brought me with him. And there's no way in hell I'm leaving his side, so just get over it.' Sarah continued to glare at him and Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously, all of his senses converging on her now smug leer.

"Jack?"

Daniel's whispered plea brought Jack immediately out of his rage-generated trance. Cutting his eyes to his lover, he was tempted to grip the younger man's arm to ensure he stayed on his feet. Daniel's eyes held just a touch of the hunted animal he had been cast as during Jack and Sarah's power play.

Refocusing his concentration from meeting Sarah's challenge to bolstering Daniel's resolve, Jack motioned the younger man towards the empty seat at the table.

Keeping his eyes on Daniel's former girlfriend, Jack tipped his head, training his peripheral vision on the man himself, who still lumbered his slow way towards the chair.

"Sit down," he snarled at Sarah.

Sarah pointedly ignored him, watching Daniel intently, unmasked hunger blazing from her eyes. Cursing under his breath, Jack marched over, and forced her into the chair with a non-too-gentle hand on her shoulder.

As Jack approached the prisoner, the SF who had escorted Sarah from her cell stepped away from his position by the wall, placing his hand significantly on his sidearm.

Sarah glanced from Jack to the guard, adopted a suitably cowed expression and dropped her gaze, her cuffed-together hands landing dejectedly in her lap.

'And this is where we play the poor, put-upon victim.' Jack mentally sneered.

Softening his features, he turned to face Daniel, who had finally made it to the center of the room. Stepping gingerly in front of the younger man, Jack pulled out the chair, holding on as Daniel lowered himself awkwardly into it. Shifting his hold, Jack covertly rubbed Daniel's back with his thumb, a gesture of comfort, as well as a reminder of his nearness.

Sighing heavily, Daniel relaxed back into the hard plastic, his body seemingly becoming one with the chair. Something moved in his peripheral vision and Daniel started. Glancing up, he passed his crutches into the hand Jack extended, watching numbly as his lover propped them against the table beside him.

After Daniel settled, Jack turned to the SF still looming over Sarah and flicked his head towards the door, the gesture a clear dismissal. As the guard passed behind them, Jack pivoted slightly, nodding to the man holding the door. The sergeant returned the nod, waiting for the SF to exit before backing out of the room himself, closing the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, Sarah raised her head, leveling her gaze on Daniel's bruised and drawn features. Frowning deeply, her perfectly sculpted brows hanging low over piercing eyes, she raised her hands to the top of the table and pushed them in Daniel's direction, leaning forward to close the distance between them.

"Daniel. I am so sorry."

"Hey! Back off," Jack growled. Skipping around Daniel to the side of the table, he slammed his hands down on hers, halting their forward progress.

"Jack!" Daniel cried, astonished by the force of Jack's response.

Ignoring Daniel for the moment, Jack leaned into Sarah's personal space, squeezing the hand under his to get her attention. "Look at me," he ordered.

Head tipped in apparent submission, Sarah swiveled in her seat so that she faced Jack directly, in seeming obedience to his command. But as her scalding glare met his, Jack suspected the adjustment was more designed to hide her true state of mind from Daniel.

Hardening his stare, Jack instructed, "You will keep your hands in your lap at all times. If you try again to reach out to Daniel or to touch him, I will end this visit right then and there."

"Jack."

Squinting menacingly for good measure, Jack released her hands and turned to Daniel... and nearly choked on the lump in his throat.

Daniel's eyes were large, moist pools of blue in the black and purple landscape of his face. His mouth hung open, his lips parted to allow the quick passage of air from his pumping chest.

Daniel's distressed expression brought instantly to Jack's mind the younger man's panicked reaction when Daniel had worried that Jack had killed Osiris in revenge for the rape. Recalling also Janet's conclusion that the root of Daniel's anxiety was the fear of losing him, Jack admonished himself for his overreaction.

Flashing a chagrined smile, Jack muttered, "It's okay," and slipped back behind Daniel, skimming a comforting hand across the younger man's shoulders as he passed. Taking up a position on Daniel's right, he glared murderously at Sarah.

Sarah simply smiled knowingly at him over her shoulder. Her strategy might have been to cause a rift between them: getting Jack to attack her, putting Daniel in the position of defender. Why not, it had worked really well these last few weeks.

Or she might be trying to keep Jack's focus off Daniel, seemingly leaving the younger man floundering in his weakened, troubled condition.

In either event, Jack was not about to let her get away with it. Sarah had no doubt recognized Daniel's alarm as a response to his anger, and was even now plotting how to best use that to her own advantage. He resolved to avoid giving her anything more to work with.

Daniel stirred, redirecting Jack's attention from the prisoner. While Jack had been gathering wool, Daniel had been shoring up the leak in his emotional dyke compromised by the impact of the face-off between his past and present lovers.

Straightening his shoulders, Daniel quietly cleared his throat. "What are you sorry for, Sarah?"

Gripping the edge of the table, Sarah swung back around in her chair to face Daniel. She once again put on her sorrowful, contrite demeanor.

"The colonel told me that Osiris kidnapped you. And I can see that you've been injured." One slim hand, followed closely by its linked partner, touched her cheek where, on Daniel's face, an angry bruise resided.

"Why should you have any remorse for something Osiris did?" Daniel asked plainly. "It's not like you had any control over his actions."

"No," Sarah said, lowering her eyes.

"So, is there some other reason you should apologize to me?"

Sarah's only response was to duck her head lower, her shoulders hunching slightly as a result.

Screwing his lips in distaste at her display, Daniel rolled his eyes impatiently. Lifting his hands from his lap to the tabletop, fingers interlaced loosely, he stared at the top of her bowed head, markedly irritated that her strawberry blond curls obscured her face.

"How about for lying to me these past few months?" Daniel rebuked. Riveting his gaze to the point where he knew her eyes would appear, when her head jerked up, he narrowed his eyes, pinning her with an accusing glare.

Sarah's mouth formed a small "oh" of surprise, turning immediately into a wounded frown. "How could you think I've been lying to you?"

Daniel's expression was too angry-looking to truly be called a smile. "You're really going to do that, huh? Try to cover your lies with even more lies?"

Sarah flinched, but whether from the harsh tone of Daniel's question or from the question itself was difficult to say.

Or it's just another of her manipulative moves, Jack growled inwardly, hardening the glare he aimed in Sarah's direction.

Sarah shook her head slowly, seemingly at a loss to understand Daniel's ire. She lifted her hands to her face and her teeth delicately worried the cuticle on her right thumb.

Daniel studied her for a moment. Finally, closing his eyes tiredly, he gingerly scratched his left cheek. The only sound in the room was the scraping of his fingernails across his morning growth of beard.

He slid the hand across his neck, fingers digging into the tight muscles at his nape. Sighing heavily, he leaned back in the chair, glanced up at Jack, then turned back to Sarah. "Let's cut the crap, okay? I know you're not as traumatized from Osiris's possession as you've pretended to be. I know that you've retained the memories of that possession, and that you've concealed that fact from everyone — from me." Daniel leaned closer, his eyes locked to hers. "Now, I want to know why."

The second Daniel had looked to Jack; Sarah's countenance began to change, growing a harder edge. With each falsehood Daniel exposed, a crack appeared in Sarah's carefully constructed mask of innocence. One by one the pieces fell, revealing her true feelings of contempt.

Sarah pulled her thumb away from her mouth and slid her fingers sensuously down her throat. She scanned Daniel with appraising eyes. "Did you enjoy your time with Osiris?" she asked, an amused smirk on her lips.

Jack stiffened, and Daniel held up a hand to forestall any response from his lover.

"No," Daniel said matter-of-factly. "Osiris wasn't really interested in showing me a good time." Pushing aside the scrubs shirt, he absently fingered the bandage on his neck. "But, I suspect you already know that."

Sarah followed the movement, pausing on his neck for only a second before lifting her eyes to his face. Softening her gaze, she frowned solicitously. "I'm sure he did his best," she replied softly. "But really, for all the glitz, those Goa'uld vessels aren't built for entertaining."

Pointedly laying her hands in her lap, Sarah leaned forward, eyes flashing expectantly. "Tell me Daniel," she said, her tone begging a response. "While you were with Osiris..." her mouth twisting in an evil grin, Sarah whispered low and huskily, for his ears only, "Did he finally manage to make a man out of you?"

Still trying to puzzle out Sarah's muttered message, Jack nearly missed its initial impact on his lover. Registering Daniel's sharply drawn breath, he glanced down.

Wrestling Daniel's chair away from the table, Jack dropped to his knees. Daniel seemed unable to make his lungs work. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide, as he struggled for breath. One pale hand clawed feebly at his chest.

Calling his lover's name, Jack grasped the pale face between his hands, noting with concern the cool clamminess of the skin. "Daniel, breathe!" he ordered, dropping his hand to shake one tremulous shoulder.

One after another, Daniel pulled in shaky, labored breaths, exhaling stuttered gusts between them. With Jack as his anchor, he slowly pulled himself out of whatever hell Sarah's remark had sent him to.

"What did you say to him?" Jack snarled at Sarah after Daniel had regained some measure of control.

"I was just wondering if Daniel got as much out of his time with Osiris as he did with me all those years ago," Sarah said conversationally, batting her eyes as though she was surprised he found such a question objectionable.

She turned her attention to the man still hunched in his chair. "Tell me Daniel," she said brightly, "What kind of bindings did Osiris use? Surely he used a blindfold? He'd know how much that sense of vulnerability enhanced your response."

Turning amused eyes on Jack, she flashed a neighborly smile. "Are you taking notes, Colonel?"

Daniel reeled from the rapid-fire delivery, having no time to recover from one verbal strike before the next hit him with a stinging blow. He stared, his eyes round and filled with horror as her words penetrated. He turned to Jack, his face aghast at the realization that he, too, had heard her taunts.

"Oh, Daniel you needn't worry about the colonel," Sarah tittered, adding harshly when Daniel's unfocused gaze wandered in her direction, "He knows all about our little bedroom games." Glancing at Jack she winked conspiratorially.

"You told him?" he gasped.

"Oh yes, we discussed all your dirty little secrets," Sarah disclosed off-handedly.

She grinned cattily at Jack. "You really should take my advice," she said, suddenly sincere. "He'll be far easier to manage in the field if you control him in the bedroom."

"That's enough!" Jack was instantly on his feet, stalking around the table.

"Jack!" Daniel grasped at his incensed lover, managing to hook a few fingers in the back of the BDU shirt that billowed behind the older man from the speed of his passage.

Reaching around to gently remove Daniel's hand from his shirt, Jack glared at Sarah. "Just sit there and keep quiet." He sneered for good measure at her smugly raised eyebrows then seemingly ignored her completely in favor of his distraught partner.

Kneeling before Daniel so that his face was even with the younger man's, Jack gently kneaded the hand that clutched to his. "It's alright, Daniel."

"I didn't want you to know," Daniel muttered, his voice just above a whisper. "I didn't want anyone to know."

"Yeah," Jack commiserated, "It's enough to make me sick to my stomach just thinking about it." He turned to glare again at Sarah, who shrugged slightly, seemingly at a loss to understand his attitude.

"I'm sorry," Daniel sighed quietly.

Jack returned his full attention to his lover. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel. No reason to feel shame. She used you..."

"Blah, blah," Sarah spat peevishly. "This is all very touching — and infinitely useful — but really, now I'm nauseated."

"I told you to shut up!" With a velocity that belied his age and the battered condition of his knees, Jack rose and moved towards Sarah.

"No, Jack, wait." Daniel lifted a hand to block Jack's advance.

Glancing from Daniel's hand in his side to the bruised, beseeching face, Jack balled his fists tightly at his sides, his desire to lash out at Sarah held in check by Daniel's entreaty. He settled for a bloodthirsty glower.

Daniel's lips pulled into a strained, yet grateful, smile. Something Sarah said had struck him, even in his distress. Recognizing an opportunity to gain information, Daniel drew a deep, calming breath, wrestling all of his memory-induced anxiety into a mental box to be dealt with later. Quickly moistening his lips, he turned to Sarah.

"What do you mean, 'useful'?"

Taken aback by Daniel's question, Jack blinked in confusion, having missed the significance of Sarah's previous statement.

Grinning amiably, Sarah rested her hands on the tabletop, pointedly watching Jack as she lifted them, steepling her fingers together in front of her. Frowning slightly when he failed to react, she turned her attention back to Daniel.

"I know things, Daniel," she purred, leaning comfortably over her conjoined hands. "Things that could land your precious colonel in prison, quite possibly for the rest of his life." Cocking her head to the side, she chirped, "I wonder what his fellow inmates will think. A well-respected, highly decorated officer throwing away everything he's accomplished; disgracing the uniform, all for the chance to screw you in the ass. Should make for interesting... friendships, no?"

"You're not gonna get the chance to use any information you might think you have," Jack snarled.

"We'll see." Sarah tossed a hand as though his comment was nothing more than an annoying insect to be swept aside. "I could do some real damage if I chose to talk," she concluded.

Daniel studied her critically, calling all of his anthropological skills into practice. He had encountered enough egomaniacs to recognize that Sarah believed she was in control — her manner was easy, her words sure. Daniel's mouth slid into a sly smile.

"Why haven't you?"

As one, Sarah and Jack turned wary eyes on Daniel.

Daniel leaned across the table, intense blue eyes locked on Sarah's, and Jack sidled the table, positioning himself midway between them. He flicked his fingers at Sarah, a reminder that her hands should be in her lap.

Sparing him only a fraction of her attention, Sarah slipped her hands off the table.

"Why haven't you said anything about Jack and me?" Daniel asked straightforwardly. "You've been in custody, what, five days? What's holding you back?"

Sarah merely smiled her enigmatic 'Mona Lisa' smile, her gaze never straying from his.

Jack could easily have supplied the answer Daniel was looking for, but suspected Daniel could, and should, discern it for himself. Still, Jack stood close, a silent sentry; an ever present reminder to Sarah, and to his lover, that Daniel was not alone.

Daniel lifted bright features to Jack's. Jack recognized the glow — 'Alight with discovery' Carter had called it. Daniel was on the trail of a theory.

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I met her?"

Jack startled, his brows gathered over his nose, linked in surprise at the apparent non-sequitur. "No."

A small, fond smile ghosted across Daniel's lips. "She looked like she'd come straight from the farm — all wide-eyed with enthusiasm and awe." Daniel's fingers danced over the breast of his robe. "She was wearing this cute little pink blouse and skirt outfit. The skirt came down over her knees and even though it was a little low cut, the blouse was still very conservative."

He tipped his head at Sarah and his eyes darkened. "But, once I agreed to have a relationship with her, Sarah changed — started wearing these distinctly sexy, black numbers.

"And she used every opportunity to stick those long legs under my nose. She used to park herself on the table where I was working, and dangle them — so tanned and toned." Daniel shook his head in self-loathing.

The smile faded. "She played me right from the beginning. Knew just which buttons to push. She appealed to my vanity, telling me how brilliant my theories were — blushing, for God's sake, when I acknowledged her interest, like I was some great dignitary or something.

"And I bought every bit of it," he concluded with a self-disgusted sneer.

"Daniel," Jack nudged gently, hoping to drop a few clues along the track Daniel scented, "Sarah told me that she came here, to the United States, with the express purpose of getting you under her control."

Daniel's face bunched slightly, before his mouth dropped slowly open.

"She had already singled you out," Jack added. "Every move was calculated and deliberate." Jack cut his eyes to Sarah, who slowly seethed as the two men carried on their conversation as though she wasn't there.

Daniel's mouth snapped shut, but only for a second. "So, you're saying she didn't think my theories were brilliant?"

If the situation weren't so grave, Jack would have laughed at the disappointment on Daniel's face. 'That's so typical. You're more bothered by the idea that she might not have taken you seriously as a scientist than by the fact that she wanted to own you.'

"No, Daniel," Jack said patiently, "it was because she believed so strongly in your theories that she wanted you under her control."

"What?"

Jack smirked. Even Daniel, who sometimes thought so far outside the box even Carter and her abstractly analytical brain were left in the dust, couldn't make the connection Sarah had. Twisting the smirk into an offended sneer, he turned to Sarah.

"She has this idea that with your advanced intelligence, you can rule the world," Jack said, feeling a bit foolish saying the words. "And she figured if she controlled you, she had the ultimate power."

Daniel gaped dumbly, seemingly trying to determine if Jack was serious. Finally, he scoffed, "That's just crazy."

"Ya think?!"

Sarah tensed at Daniel's proclamation, and Jack pinned her with his most hostile glare — the one he usually reserved for Goa'ulds. She sat stiffly, brooding, yet still keenly aware of everything being said.

Daniel considered what he had just learned. "She told me all the time that I was wasted at the Institute, that I could 'be' so much more but... ruling the world?"

"She still thinks you can do it." When Daniel just stared at him, his drawn brows signifying his confusion, Jack clarified, "She believes you're her ticket to godhood. That you 'owe' her for taking Osiris away."

Daniel shook his head in mournful disbelief and turned to Sarah, eyes focused and penetrating.

Contemplating whether he should, Jack gulped then quickly completed his thought, "That's why she read your journals and watched your dreams — to find out if you were still worthy of her attention."

Daniel's Adam's apple bobbed as he, too, gulped at Jack's words, but his gaze never wavered. In the space of a heartbeat, his countenance transitioned from regretful and pitying to disgusted and angry.

"How can you think that I'd —" Daniel closed his eyes and breathed deeply, consciously banking the fire of outrage that seemingly threatened to consume him. "Even if I were anywhere near capable of something like taking over the world, how can you think I'd agree to do it? That I'd, what, give you the ultimate power, become your puppet dictator?"

"You have what it takes, Daniel." Sarah came to life, the dark, reflective persona giving way to an ebullient, animated one. "You are intellectually superior. So much greater than most of the pitiful excuses for sentient life that inhabit this planet." She looked pointedly at Jack, who smirked in mock offense.

"Osiris didn't believe me when I told him how unique among men you are. I tried to get him to bring you with us when we were forced to flee Egypt." Sarah smiled sadly, seemingly apologizing for her inability to obtain the Goa'uld's cooperation.

Daniel startled slightly at the revelation, his lips parting in surprise.

"Over the years," Sarah continued, "we argued frequently about your true worth, though Osiris refused to see my point of view — that you had potential, but required special handling to bring it to the fore."

"Special handling?" Daniel choked, his features a mix of incredulity and indignation. "That's what you called it?"

"I shared my memories of our time together," Sarah enthused, sitting up perkily. "I was sure that if I showed him how responsive you were to my instruction that he'd see how important it was that we get you back." She slumped slightly; a child-like pout overshadowing her excitement. "He still didn't see it, though he did concede that you are very handsome." She smiled as though such news should make Daniel happy.

The bruised face, contorting with disbelief and outrage, told Jack that Daniel was decidedly not happy to learn that Osiris had found him attractive. He frowned as Daniel's scowl deepened, but Sarah was too caught up in her tale to notice anything.

"I thought after he saw the progression of our relationship in your dreams that he'd recognize not only how brilliant you are but how infinitely malleable and would finally come around to appreciate what you have to offer the way I do. But we were separated before I had the chance to find out."

Sarah shifted with nervous anxiety. Leaning towards Daniel, she inquired eagerly, "Did he share his thoughts when you saw him? Did showing him how easily I managed you right from the beginning convince him I was right?"

Planting his palms firmly on the tabletop, Daniel pushed himself up. Balancing on his left foot, he leaned on his extended arms to loom over Sarah. Jack stepped closer, hand raised, ready to support Daniel if necessary, but it appeared Daniel's fury-generated adrenaline was more than enough to keep him vertical.

"You want to know what the memories of your instruction did for him?" Daniel snarled, his lips curled in loathing. "They gave him quite an impressive hard on — and he was only too happy to share that with me."

"I don't —"

"He fucking raped me!" Daniel spat, his face an angry red. "Repeatedly. Telling me every time that you were wrong; that the only thing I had which he considered of any value was my 'lovely ass.'"

"God, Daniel," Jack gasped almost soundlessly.

Having expended all of his strength on venting, Daniel collapsed in his chair with a solid whump. Though Jack had tried to slow his descent with a tight grip on his arm, Daniel screwed up his face, his impact with the chair no doubt jarring his various hurts.

He drew a shaky breath and turned a sour sneer on Sarah. "So, I guess the answer to your question is, no, he was not swayed by your psychotic retelling of Pygmalion."

Jack couldn't stop the corners of his mouth lifting at Daniel's reference. That anyone would consider Daniel, even the socially awkward kid version, an insignificant nonentity waiting for just the right hands to mold him into greatness, was a ridiculous notion. 'At least he didn't use "My Fair Lady,"' Jack smirked inwardly.

Detecting movement from the corner of his eye, Jack held up a restraining hand to the SF peering worriedly through the observation window, obviously alerted by Daniel's shouts.

The young man nodded once and resumed his post next to the door.

Turning back to Daniel, Jack's brows furrowed in concern to find his lover noticeably slumped, one shaky hand rubbing his forehead.

"Hey," he said, gently squeezing Daniel's shoulder, "let's get you back to the infirmary, huh?"

"You can't go yet," Sarah whined at Jack, her eyes large and pleading. "Daniel..." her delicate features lifted into a beseeching smile, "let me talk to Osiris. I'm sure I can convince him..."

"Osiris is dead!" Jack spat coldly, taking obvious delight in delivering the news. "I killed him myself."

Pulling a face at the horrified visage she presented upon Jack's revelation, Daniel added bitterly, "It's over Sarah. Whatever you were planning... it's not going to happen. Osiris is gone." He drew a deep, sustaining breath and looked unwaveringly into her startled eyes. "And there is nothing you can say or do that will convince me to let you screw with me again."

Sarah stiffened. "You can't just write me off like this," she screeched, the timbre of her voice increasing with her apparently mounting desperation. "It's your fault I was taken by Osiris!"

"Oh, like you're really sorry that happened," Jack tossed back at her.

"No." Daniel raised a hand in Jack's direction, halting his lover's need to antagonize her. He pulled a quick breath and said calmly, quietly, "What happened to you was unfortunate timing. And it would have happened whether or not I had come to Chicago for Professor Jordan's funeral."

"You owe me!" Sarah insisted.

"It's not gonna happen, sister. Give it up," Jack growled.

Sarah's features twisted with a vicious grin. "I'll tell," she sneered, tipping her head in a self-satisfied nod when Daniel stiffened, sitting straighter in his chair.

She turned her oily smirk on Jack. "I wonder what your superiors will say when they find out what you do with him behind your solid closet door," she crowed. "They'll no doubt be shocked to learn that their macho warrior hero is in reality a devout queer who gets his rocks off by burying his cock deep in the ass of his much younger male subordinate."

Jack offered a smirk of his own. "Oh, that is so cliché," he mocked. "Surely you can come up with something more imaginative." He waved his hand at Daniel. "And, for the record, he's not that much younger."

Sarah's face dropped, confusion settling over her features at his lack of concern.

"It won't work, Sarah," Daniel said wearily. "Jack and I discussed this scenario when we first got involved. Neither of us is going to give in to blackmail." Daniel gazed with undisguised affection and support at his lover then pushed himself upright, grasping he crutches. "You go ahead and tell what you know. We'll take our chances."

Jack reached out to steady Daniel as the younger man positioned the crutches beneath his arms.

"NO!"

Sarah's defiant screech lasted the entirety of her leap across the table at Daniel. Watching in horrified disbelief as both prisoner and archaeologist sprawled on the floor; Jack yelled at the door for the guards and reached behind him to pull his sidearm out of his waistband.

Turning back towards Sarah, raising the hand that clasped his weapon, Jack saw the glint of a knife blade the second before he saw the heavy end of one of Daniel's crutches headed for his forehead — then he saw nothing but blackness. The gun clattered, useless, to the concrete.

At that moment, Daniel was shaking his head in an effort to silence the chimes ringing in his ears. The slight weight that had propelled him backward was gone the instant he hit the floor. Glancing wildly around the room he saw Sarah Gardner crouched over Jack's prone, still body, knife poised over his heart.

"Sarah!" Daniel screamed, desperately scrabbling for the Beretta he spied in his peripheral vision.

As his former lover twisted in his direction, time appeared to warp so that Daniel perceived everything in slow motion: the golden red halo of Sarah's hair billowing around her as she turned her head; the hauntingly mad leer as she raised the knife preparing for the downward plunge; the explosive bang of the door bursting open behind him, followed by the explosive bang of the weapon in his hand and those of the guards rushing into the room.

In a spray of blood, Sarah toppled sideways, the knife falling from her lax hand, impacting, handle first, on Jack's hip, before bouncing harmlessly to the floor.

As time resumed its normal speed, Daniel dropped his gun and dragged himself to Jack's side. Grunting into a sitting position, Daniel rested his hand on Jack's chest, vigorously rubbing his fingertips across the older man's breastbone.

"Get a med team in here!" someone yelled over his head.

"Jack," he called, frowning deeply at the gash between Jack's brows. His alarm quickly gave way to relief when Jack's eyelids fluttered and dark brown irises appeared beneath them.

"Dan... iel."

Daniel gazed in the direction from which the barely audible whisper of his name had come. Sarah lay on her side, her olive drab jumpsuit dyed red by the blood that seeped from the half dozen wounds in her body.

Daniel stared at her apathetically for just a second then turned his attention back to his downed lover.

Shaken by the cold indifference with which Daniel regarded her, Sarah Gardner exhaled a pathetic moan, her parting comment to the man she had sought to control.

-27-

In the few seconds that Daniel's attention had been diverted to Sarah, Jack had lost consciousness again. Oblivious to the chaos that surrounded him, Daniel continued his attempt to revive the older man, gently patting his face and imploring him to wake up.

"What the hell happened here?"

Daniel was pulled from his single-minded task by the general's commanding bellow. He glanced up just as Hammond stepped into the room and quickly made way for Janet Fraiser and her team.

"Janet." Daniel reached out, beckoning her to Jack's side.

Dr. Fraiser glanced from the prisoner to the guard who stood over her. The SF shook his head, the message clear: there was nothing the doctor could do for her. Still Janet turned to the nurse who accompanied her and motioned the young woman towards Sarah.

Falling to her knees beside the colonel, Janet checked his pulse, respiration and pupils, before pulling on gloves to probe the bruised and bloody area above and between his eyes.

"Janet?" Daniel was breathless, his eyes large and wet.

"What happened?" she asked, watching him carefully, her brow knotted.

Daniel swiped at the perspiration on his brow with a shaky hand. "Sarah had a knife," Daniel panted, indicating the large blade lying beside Janet. "She came at me over the table." He lowered his head and shook it, wavering a bit as a bout of light-headedness assailed him.

Reaching across Jack's prone body, Janet gripped Daniel's shoulder. "Take it easy. Slow, deep breaths."

Daniel did as ordered. Grinding the heel of his hand roughly into his forehead, he jerked he head up suddenly. "I'm just tired," he muttered. Grinning weakly at Janet's appraising scowl, he tipped his head over his shoulder, towards his discarded crutches. "Sarah hit Jack with one of those. She swung it pretty hard."

"Okay," Janet nodded. "His pulse and respiration are good and his pupil reaction is acceptable. He might have a mild concussion. We'll run some more tests when we get him back to the infirmary," she assured, squeezing Daniel's shoulder supportively before dropping her hand to again check Jack's pulse.

A loud clatter announced the timely arrival of the gurney, drawing the doctor's attention, and that of her conscious patient, to the door. Daniel's gaze wandered over Janet's shoulder, to where General Hammond stood against the wall, deep in conversation with the officer in charge of Sarah's security detail. Straining his overwhelmed senses, he attempted to hear the version of events the security officer was relaying.

"Daniel?"

Daniel blinked at Janet, then, at her gesture, swung his eyes to his right. He startled, surprised to see the wheelchair waiting there beside and slightly behind him. He had been so focused on following the conversation across the room that he had failed to notice when it was brought in.

His eyes automatically looked beyond the wheelchair to where the nurse, Karen he realized, covered Sarah's still form with a blanket taken from the gurney. Karen smiled sadly at him; and Daniel shuddered, distressed to realize that, though he had once felt deep sorrow for Sarah and her unimaginable plight, he now felt nothing.

"She's dead," he deadpanned.

"Yes," Janet affirmed, just as emotionlessly. She signaled to someone standing behind Daniel. "Come on; let's get you into that wheelchair and back down to the infirmary. The colonel will be right behind you, I promise."

Daniel nodded wearily and swiveled his hips until he was sitting before the wheelchair. Groping behind him, absurdly thinking he could boost himself into the chair, he quickly relaxed when hands gripped his biceps and lifted him easily, gently depositing him onto the seat. Too drained to even acknowledge the assistance, Daniel closed his eyes and rested his head in one hand, pulling the edges of the robe together over his chest with the other.

"Get him back in bed and ask Lieutenant Miller to start another IV." Janet's voice traveled over Daniel's shoulder, aimed, he presumed, at the person manning his wheelchair.

He sighed when someone lifted his feet onto the footrests. The wheelchair began to glide away, and he cracked his eyes open just enough to see Karen move into place beside Janet. He closed them again and relaxed, knowing that Jack was in good hands.

'Bed actually sounds good,' Daniel thought inconsequentially as the wheelchair moved into the hallway and passed the guards at the door. 'But I could do without the IV.' He rolled the protest around in his brain, hoping to keep it in the forefront so that he remembered it once they reached the infirmary.

Daniel soon found the low, steady hum of wheelchair skimming concrete to be as lulling as ocean waves or rain on the roof. By the time they made it to the end of the hallway, he had slumped inelegantly to the right. Though he could feel the arm of the chair digging into his ribcage, the discomfort was not enough to right him.

He maintained just enough awareness to guess where on the path they might be. He felt the wheelchair slow then unconsciously leaned into the turn when the chair made the corner onto the main corridor, heading for the security station.

Because it was unexpected, it took him a few seconds to realize they had stopped moving. It took no conscious thought at all to jerk away from the stinging pain in his right thigh. He lurched sideways, raising his leg and sweeping a hand across it.

He registered the burning at the site in the same instant his fingers made contact with the hypodermic. His instinctive groping dislodged the needle, which tumbled to the seat of the wheelchair and disappeared somewhere beneath him.

"Damn it," the voice behind him growled.

Determining pretty quickly that the shot had not been ordered by Janet or any of his other doctors; Daniel prayed that he had enough adrenaline to fight the effects of what was, in all likelihood, something meant to keep him quiet and compliant.

Feeling inclined to be neither, Daniel slid his left foot from the footrest, planted it on the floor and pushed backward with all his remaining strength, hoping to topple his assailant. At the same time, he opened his mouth to yell, knowing that at this juncture, midway between the interview rooms and the security station, he would have to make a lot of noise to attract attention.

A large, meaty hand cut off his scream, the fingers jammed tight against his nostrils threatening to cut off his oxygen. In a dead panic, Daniel raised his hands and pulled against the barrier, managing to lower it enough to allow the passage of air.

He stilled, shocked into submission, when a scalpel in a tightly clenched fist danced into his peripheral vision. The thumb flicked the protective plastic cover from the tip and Daniel watched, perversely captivated, as it flew from the end and bounced off his knee, landing on the floor against the wall to his right.

"That's it, just sit still," the voice rumbled against his ear, taking Daniel's attention away from the fingers digging painfully into his jaw. "I hear O'Neill complains that you have no sense of self preservation. But apparently you are at least savvy enough to detect that I mean business."

Once he stopped battling, heaviness swiftly settled in Daniel's limbs, a combination of exhaustion and whatever drug his kidnapper — for wherever this man meant to take him, at this point, it was against his will — had administered.

Taking Daniel's fatigued calm as obedience, the man slid his hand away from Daniel's mouth. The chair swiveled slightly as he leaned on the handles to push himself upright. Keeping his weapon within Daniel's sight at all times, he stepped around to the front of the chair.

"Don't try anything stupid," he ordered. Leaning down, he grasped the leg of Daniel's scrubs and swung his foot back onto the footrest.

Daniel's eyes widened minutely, recognizing the orderly who had made him so uneasy the other day. Contrary to his memory lapse at that time, the man's name came immediately to mind today — Jeffries.

"You know this could have been so much easier if you had just sat still and let me empty that hypo into you," Jeffries grumbled. "Still, I bet you got enough to take most of the fight out of you, so I'm not gonna dump you on the floor to look for it. Besides, this..." he waved the scalpel near Daniel's chin, "should deter you from even thinking of trying something like that again."

"I have no interest in making this easy for you," Daniel ground out tersely.

Jeffries shot upright, one hand planted on this hip, the other — the one holding the blade — bobbing dangerously close to Daniel's nose. "See, that's the whole problem, right there," he spat. Spinning away, he stalked behind the wheelchair.

Daniel turned his head just enough to steal a glance at the orderly from the corner of his eye. Jeffries stepped to the intersection and peeked back around the corner. Apparently having detected no sign that either Jack's gurney or its attendants were anywhere close behind, he lifted his mouth in a chilling smile.

Shuffling back to the wheelchair, he grasped the handles, the scalpel tucked between his left palm and the rubber grip, and slowly walked forward. He leaned over Daniel's back, ostensibly for ease of communication and intimidation.

"You have pissed off some very influential people, Dr. Jackson," Jeffries rebuked. "Would you believe that after all this time, there are still people who want you out of the program? But you refuse to go away. Hell, even death didn't keep you away for long."

Jeffries uttered a low snigger which Daniel's trained ear registered as annoyance, not amusement. While he sat and listened, Daniel's mind worked furiously to formulate a plan of escape before the drug completely impaired his ability to act — preferably one that didn't involve the severing of his jugular.

Since any attempt to physically battle his captor would require the cooperation of ungainly, increasingly drug-heavy muscles, Daniel figured that his only option was to talk the orderly out of whatever he intended to do. 'Fortunately, I could talk a blind man into seeing things my way, right Jack? Now if I can just get my brain to spit a few choice words out of my mouth, I'll be in business.' Daniel shook his head weakly, hoping to rouse his brain from its drug-induced lethargy.

"Robert was so right about you," Jeffries continued while Daniel was busy groping for a suitable opening. "You have this irritating tendency to take sides against Earth's interests, to make things more difficult for the people who are trying to save this planet.

"Like a few months ago with those Unas. Did you even care that you could have lost us access to the naquadah we need to make defensive weapons and ships?"

Jeffries paused just long enough to make Daniel wonder if the man actually expected him to answer.

"And what about your ex-girlfriend? I can't believe you wouldn't allow the military to interrogate her. She might have known some way to defeat the damn Goa'uld once and for all."

Daniel flinched involuntarily at the spray of air and spittle from Jeffries's disgusted snort.

"And now she's dead, taking all those secrets with her."

Daniel's eyes closed in distress, an automatic response to the reminder of his part in Sarah's death. As though hailed by Jeffries's reference, Sarah's final minutes replayed in vivid detail against the backs of his eyelids. For some reason he didn't understand, his mind chose to focus on the transition her eyes went through: wild and maniacal as she held the knife over Jack's chest; wide-opened in surprise as the bullets ripped through her body; pleading and sad as she begged for his comfort; and, finally, angry and accusing as she succumbed to her wounds.

Daniel inhaled sharply, wrenching heavy eyelids upward. 'No! Don't give in,' he chastised himself, blinking fiercely to keep his eyes open. 'You've got to fight this.'

"And let's face it, you are a Goa'uld magnet," Jeffries pressed on derisively, obviously unaware of the fact that he'd lost his audience for a few seconds. "This time it appears Osiris wanted only you, but how long will it be before you bring some Goa'uld with a grudge down on the rest of us?"

Jeffries's tone altered, taking on a pleased lilt. "It's nice that someone is willing to pay me, quite well, actually, to get rid of you. But I have my own reasons for wanting you dead."

His head swimming from the effects of even the small amount of the drug Jeffries had managed to get into him, and distracted with the effort of keeping himself functioning, still Daniel discerned the meaning of those words, their implication jarring his mind towards sharper focus. He felt the heaviness assailing him abate somewhat, a charge of adrenaline released with his renewed commitment to oppose his abductor.

The security station came into view, and Jeffries slowed his pace. He tapped Daniel on the shoulder to make sure he had the archaeologist's attention. "Just sit there and keep quiet," he muttered threateningly, resting the blade of the scalpel against the nape of Daniel's neck.

A cold chill, colder than the steel blade against his skin, crawled down Daniel's back.

"Look, Jeffries," Daniel sputtered softly, "you know you're not gonna get away, right?" Daniel's breaths came in short, harsh gasps, the effort to speak taking all his concentration. "Why don't we just end this now before someone gets hurt?"

When Jeffries made no move to alter his course of action, Daniel hissed urgently. "If you kill me, you won't get out of here alive."

"It doesn't matter what happens to me," Jeffries replied dispassionately, "as long as you're no longer in a position to influence the operations on this base." Jeffries shifted behind Daniel's back. Bending, he breathed into his captive's ear, "And just so you know, I don't have to kill you to get rid of you, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel's cold fear turned into numbing terror as the tip of the scalpel pierced the skin on his nape.

"I could just dig this blade into your neck and sever your spinal cord," Jeffries continued conversationally. "Now, chances are, you'd be unable to breathe on your own after that, but I'm sure at least one of those guards knows CPR. They might keep you alive long enough for a med team to get you on a respirator. Of course, if I do my job right, you'll be a complete quadriplegic, unable to move or talk. Utterly useless to Stargate Command." Jeffries chuckled low in his throat, a decidedly evil sound.

Gasping at Jeffries's proposal, Daniel drew a shuddering breath and slumped in submission, ashamed that the mere thought of total paralysis like Jeffries described terrified him enough to give in to the maniac's demand.

Exhaling slowly, Daniel wondered idly if his thundering heartbeat was audible to anyone outside his body. 'There'll be another opportunity,' he recited, hoping fervently that, when such opportunity presented itself, he would be able to take advantage of it.

"Okay," Jeffries whispered, satisfied with Daniel's apparent change in attitude. "We're going to go by the checkpoint, and you're not going to say a word to anyone. You got that?" Again Jeffries paused as if expecting Daniel to respond. "Because, so help me, if any of those guards even suspects that you are a less than cooperative patient, I will use this."

Jeffries twisted the scalpel slightly before withdrawing it. Gripping Daniel's shoulder with his left hand, the blade nestled between his fingers and Daniel's flesh, Jeffries pushed his captive more rapidly towards the check point.

All three guards looked up as they approached.

"You alright, Dr. Jackson?" One of the guards, a pretty blond, smiled at him worriedly. "I can't believe Dr. Gardner attacked you."

Jeffries stopped the chair, turning it slightly to hide his hand. The cold steel kissed his neck and Daniel shuddered.

"He's just exhausted," Jeffries cut in before Daniel could open his mouth. "We're headed back to the infirmary."

The blond nodded and smiled again, warmly this time. "Take care."

Daniel laboriously balled his hands into impotent fists and lowered his head as the chair began to move again on the final leg of the journey to the elevators. As instructed, he had sat still and kept his mouth shut. Closing his eyes in misgiving, Daniel second-guessed that decision. 'Jack is gonna be so pissed when he finds out.'

As they made their slow way down the hall, Jeffries keeping his pace even and measured, Daniel distractedly pondered what would happen once they reached their ultimate destination. Obviously, someone had convinced Jeffries that Daniel's participation was a detriment to the program. Just as obviously, Jeffries meant to "get rid of" the problem.

'How' he meant to do that wasn't as important as 'when.' Daniel's possible strategic error aside, Jeffries had been lucky so far. Jack's gurney hadn't followed as quickly as Janet had promised, and any personnel already stationed on this level were back at the interview room or at the security checkpoint they had just passed.

So, Daniel was really on his own — with limited ability to effectively maneuver his limbs and a thought process inhibited by drugs and fear.

The click and buzz of a security card swiping through the elevator control mechanism brought him out of his ruminations. His brow furrowed, and he peered through slitted eyes at the elevator doors opening before him. Jeffries hurriedly shoved the chair in and spun him around, and Daniel's hands came up reflexively to grip the arms of the wheelchair. He closed his eyes tightly against a wave of motion sickness.

Breathing heavily through the resulting nausea, Daniel startled when a hand slammed down on the grip behind him.

"What the fuck's wrong with this elevator?" Jeffries snarled.

Cautiously opening his eyes, Daniel was surprised to see an empty hallway instead of the inside of the elevator doors. He tipped his head back awkwardly, feeling as though it sat loosely on his neck. Squinting his eyes to bring the panel into focus, he noticed one square softly glowing in the bank of floor-selection buttons on the elevator wall. Seventeen — a floor mostly abandoned to storage, lined with empty rooms checked only every few days. Once he got Daniel alone up there, Jeffries would have plenty of time and solitude to accomplish whatever he had in mind.

As Daniel madly groped for a way out of his predicament, Jeffries came around to punch the elevator button again. Noticing the scalpel held carelessly at Jeffries's side, Daniel silently thanked Sergeant Siler, who had apparently found more pressing matters to attend to than delayed elevator doors. Summoning all his strength, Daniel swung out wildly. A desperate groan escaped his lips with the effort, but he managed to raise his right hand high enough and extend his arm far enough to knock the blade from Jeffries's grasp.

Jeffries whirled, his face an ugly, angry mask. His eyes skimmed over Daniel then darted to the floor of the elevator seeking his lost weapon.

Thinking he might have no better opportunity, Daniel lunged forward, attempting to throw himself out of the chair and into the hallway, intending to scream loudly enough to bring help — hopefully before Jeffries retrieved his scalpel and slit his throat.

Daniel did scream, a garbled cry expelled with his breath, when a hand circled his shoulder and pulled him back into the chair, fingers probing viciously into the knife wound caused by a Jaffa's blade. Spikes of agony shot out from the site of the assault, skittering from that central point to envelope Daniel's chest, back and arm. His right hand contracted involuntarily into a tight fist, the nails tearing into his palm.

The hand released him, and Daniel slumped miserably in the chair. Jeffries came into view, having moved from behind the chair to stoop in front of him, and Daniel glared hotly through the sweat hanging from his brow.

"Not really the brightest thing you've ever done," Jeffries mocked, twirling his recovered scalpel before Daniel's face. "We're gonna have to do something about that feistiness of yours." Out of his line of sight, a hand gripped Daniel's thigh.

Instantaneous with the pressure on his upper leg, Daniel's mind propelled him to the belly of a Goa'uld ship. Glancing down, he saw Osiris's hand glide up his inner thigh, heading for his scrotal sac and beyond, its ultimate goal the invasion of his body. He lifted his gaze and gasped at the smug leer and flashing eyes looking back at him.

Movement behind Osiris's back attracted Daniel's eye. Brows drawing downward in confusion at Teal'c's appearance on the ship, they rose almost immediately in surprise as the background resolved into a hallway at the SGC.

In the moment Daniel remembered where he was, he prayed, as Teal'c came out of the stairwell and turned in their direction, that his Jaffa friend had had enough time to register Daniel's expression of shocked panic before the elevator doors closed between them.

Unaccountably struck by the elevator's unbelievably bad timing — cutting him off from the only help that was likely to come his way while his captor made overtures of rape — Daniel barked a hysterical laugh.

'Too much.'

That this pitiful excuse for an assassin — this fool hired by Kinsey, or the NID or whomever, to eliminate him under the pretense of protecting Earth — would suddenly decide that he, too, wanted to screw Daniel over... and that luck or Fate seemed content to go along with the plan... well it was all just...

"Too much."

Glancing down at the orderly cum kidnapper cum hit man cum rapist, Daniel's face flushed with hatred at Jeffries's domineering sneer. Fueled by anger and loathing, Daniel's body clumsily responded to his command to lash out at his attacker, one hand clawing at the groping fingers while the other pushed at the arrogantly smug face.

"No!" Daniel growled. Lacking enough strength to throw a punch, he settled for clubbing Jeffries in the temple with his closed hand. When the movement elicited a startled yelp, he swung the hand again, hard.

Jeffries stumbled backward. Coming clumsily to his feet, he held the scalpel between himself and the man in the wheelchair, wielding it like a shield to protect him from Daniel's advances. "I could kill you right now," he sputtered.

"Then do it!" Daniel's formerly docile countenance scrunched into a recalcitrant glower. "Because there is no way in hell I'm going to let you rape me!"

Seemingly at a loss for a second, Jeffries reacted instinctively when the elevator doors opened behind him. Reaching down, he grabbed the lapels of Daniel's robe, dragging him roughly to his feet.

To keep him from toppling sideways, Daniel's broken foot dropped automatically to the floor, and Daniel gasped in pain, biting back a curse. Bunching his fists into the sleeves of Jeffries's shirt, Daniel tenaciously pulled himself upright, attempting to keep his weight off his injured ankle.

"You know I can't walk?" he spat indignantly.

"I'll drag you if I have to," Jeffries snarled. "It'll be easier than struggling with you and the wheelchair."

Jeffries stepped sideways, heaving Daniel out of the elevator, and, in the same movement slid an arm around the injured man's body so that Daniel now leaned against his hip. He unwound the scalpel from the folds of Daniel's robe and waggled it in the archaeologist's flushed, sweaty face.

Nearly doubled over with the effort of staying on his feet, Daniel turned his head and glared contemptuously into the determined eyes of his captor... then collapsed gracelessly to the floor, nearly dragging Jeffries down with him.

His eyes wide in stupefaction, Jeffries hissed between tightly clenched teeth, "Get up!"

"I can't." Daniel spread himself out, lying flat against the cement floor. "Guess you'll have to kill me right here," he panted.

"Don't think I won't," Jeffries snarled, stalking in a tight circle around his mutinous captive. "Get up!" he ordered again, swinging a foot into Daniel's hip.

Rolling onto his side, Daniel pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around his head. He grunted as another blow landed in the vicinity of his left kidney.

Jeffries landed three more haphazardly placed kicks on Daniel's back and shoulders, raging loudly against his hostage's lack of cooperation. Finally determining that Daniel would offer no assistance, Jeffries bent down and wound his fist into the collar of Daniel's robe and the scrubs shirt beneath. Struggling upright, he hoisted his captive into a sitting position, groaning when Daniel fell heavily against his locked knees.

Daniel's pained groan echoed Jeffries's exasperated one. Having squeezed out as much adrenaline as his body had to spare on his failed escape attempt, he hung limply in his kidnapper's grasp, contemplating the oblivion of unconsciousness.

As Jeffries turned, apparently resigned to the fact that he would have to drag Daniel to the nearest empty room, the elevator, which unnoticed by kidnapper and victim had resumed its normal function, opened, disgorging four SFs, all training their weapons on Jeffries's chest.

Shouting defiantly, Jeffries fell to his knees behind Daniel. Jerking his fist so Daniel's head fell back against his shoulder, Jeffries placed the scalpel to the archaeologist's throat.

"The only way you're gonna get to me," the orderly panted, "is by wading through this man's blood. So, unless you want to explain to General Hammond how your failure to stand down led to Dr. Jackson's messy death, I suggest you all back off." 

Daniel peered through half-lidded eyes at the security detail, wishing he had enough saliva to spit out encouragement to the guards.

When none of the SFs made a move to comply with his demand, Jeffries pushed the blade into Daniel's skin, just far enough to bring forth an impressive flow of blood, with the promise of much more if they continued to defy him.

"Now!" he barked.

Daniel's strangled cry was lost in Jeffries's bellow and the click of disengaged firearms.

Grinning smugly, his entire focus on the four men setting their rifles on the ground before him, Jeffries failed to notice the Jaffa creeping stealthily behind him, until said Jaffa captured his wrist in an iron grip, swept his arm out and away from Daniel's throat and lifted him until his feet dangled several centimeters above the concrete.

Daniel gagged and flailed feebly as the fabric of his scrubs top pulled tightly against his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

"Unhand Daniel Jackson," Teal'c rumbled threateningly into the face of Daniel's captor.

Jeffries gaped into the dark, dangerous eyes. Loosening his grip on Daniel, he frenziedly shook his arm when his hand refused to untangle from the archaeologist's clothing. He whimpered thankfully when the fabric fell away.

Finally free and able to breath, Daniel slumped unceremoniously onto his side, desperately pulling air into his lungs.

Teal'c gazed at the hand hanging limply above his head. "Drop your weapon," he directed. The metallic ping of scalpel impacting concrete registered before he completed the command.

"Sergeant Gentry," Teal'c called to one of the guards, "place this man in a holding cell."

Stepping forward, Gentry retrieved the scalpel and motioned two of his men to take Jeffries prisoner.

Teal'c released his hold, and Jeffries fell into the arms of the guards. Glaring murderously after the would-be assassin, Teal'c softened his gaze and turned to the still form of his friend. Kneeling fluidly, he frowned at the wound on the back of Daniel's neck before placing a hand behind a slack shoulder. He gingerly lifted the young man's upper body from the floor while turning him onto his back.

"Daniel Jackson," he called urgently.

Pain-filled blue orbs peeped through heavy lids at his entreaty. "Teal'c?"

"It is I, Daniel Jackson," the Jaffa confirmed, offering a relieved smile. Looking up to find Gentry still standing in the hallway, Teal'c instructed him, "Contact the infirmary. Inform Doctor Fraiser that I am bringing Daniel Jackson to her."

Gentry nodded and rushed to the nearby phone.

Gently sliding his other hand under Daniel's knees, Teal'c carefully lifted his teammate into his arms and cradled him against his broad chest.

"You are safe now, my friend," he said soothingly, coming easily to his feet.

"'Kay," Daniel breathed and let oblivion claim him.

Part 10

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