Archive of Our Own ^beta

Flat Line

• SPOILERS : The Light
• CONTENT WARNING: language
• All the scenes I wanted to see in 'The Light', and more
• PG13 [A] [Hc]

In the forty plus years Jack O'Neill had spent on Earth and, of late, the local galactic neighborhood, there had been many, many a time he'd been afraid. Not that there was anything wrong with that, because Jack knew, only too well, if you weren't afraid of anything, it simply meant you had nothing left to lose. He'd been a long way down that particular road with what he believed was a non refundable, one way ticket. A ticket that read: 'Colonel Jonathon O'Neill, USAF, First Class Fuck-Up.' Written in indelible ink.

But that was before the Stargate project came along, bringing with it a persistent young archaeologist who was too smart for his own good. And somehow, against all the odds, things had changed. Jack had turned around and begun the long journey back to his life without ever really realizing he'd taken the first step. Now, after four years that had gone by in the blink of an eye, Jack O'Neill was no longer surprised by the fact that he included a text book-toting, motor mouthed academic in the very small circle of people he called good friends.

Bearing that in mind, it was easy to understand Jack's reaction when he walked out through Daniel's eighth floor apartment door, the one that opened out onto the balcony, and was confronted by the sight of one Daniel Jackson, perched on the wrong side of the railing, standing on what Jack presumed to be a small ledge. Daniel's arms were locked out straight behind him, he had a finger tip grip on the rail - - and he was leaning forward. Jack stared in utter disbelief. Everything seemed to stop. He couldn't hear the kettle boiling away madly in the kitchen behind him. Couldn't feel the cool breeze on his face. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't move.

Fear is a powerful thing. Learn to control it, and it can work for you, make you unbeatable. Give in to it, and fear will chew you up and spit you out in a million pieces.

Jack was scared shitless.

"Daniel? What are you doing out here?" Jack's mouth felt like it was full of wet cement, but at least it was still moving. His feet were frozen to the floor, his legs two dead weights.

"None of it means anything . . ." Daniel said in flat monotone. He sounded completely spaced out, and Jack was fairly certain that Daniel was talking to himself, unaware that he was standing only a few feet behind him. Trying vainly to reconcile what he was seeing to some sort of logical explanation, Jack couldn't begin to find any sane reason why Daniel would be . . . out there. Unless he'd been sick or something during the night, taken some kind of medication that made him - - what? Go nuts?

Shit. Talk about clutching at straws. The truth was Daniel had already been acting completely out of character before he'd left base. Bad tempered, snarly, and he'd soon progressed to shouting, mostly insults, and then -- barely controlled rage. As opposed to how he was now. And that was . . . suicidal??? First Barber, now Daniel . . . what in God's name?

"Umm Daniel. Why don't you come inside?" Jack was still reluctant to move any closer for fear that it would break the spell. Daniel's hands were probably numb from the cold, and there was a hundred foot drop waiting for him to lose his tenuous hold.

"I tried . . . it just goes away."

Had Daniel sobbed? It sure sounded like a sob to Jack. What the fuck was 'it just goes away' supposed to mean? Jack's brain was spinning out at a thousand miles an hour, he didn't have the first clue what to say.

"Okay, well, we'll get it back."

"You can't get it back!"

Acutely aware of the rising anger in his friend's voice, Jack was more concerned by the sight of Daniel's fingers, slowly releasing their hold . . . and he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."

"You don't even know what I'm talking about."

"No, no I don't. But come inside?"

It was fast becoming impossible for Jack to keep a lid on his fear. Even though Daniel was responding to him now, there was no trace of lucidity in his answers. He was going to let go. Any second now Daniel would drop like a stone . . . Jack readied himself to lunge forward.

"Jack?"

Daniel turned his head back over his shoulder a fraction, as though he realized for the first time where he was, and that he had company, but still wasn't quite sure if he was imagining it or not. Jack was over to him in an instant, holding his left arm tightly and wrapping his other arm around Daniel's back.

"Yeah." Jack breathed out. He could feel Daniel trembling, so he gently rubbed his shoulder. "Let's get you back on this side. Okay?"

Daniel nodded with a shaky downward movement on his head, and Jack slipped his arms around his friend's chest.

"I'll hold on to you while you climb over."

Daniel nodded again, and without looking down, turned carefully sideways and slid his left leg up and over the rail. From there, Jack simply hauled the rest of him over the barrier, ending up with the two of them standing face to face, with both Jack's arms around Daniel's waist. Any other time, Jack would probably have had something to say about who should do the leading, but right now, just trying to smile was an impossible task. There was no hint of relief or anything else in Daniel's eyes. Just a vacant gaze that made Jack want to wince.

"Daniel? You all right?"

If that wasn't the most ridiculous thing he'd ever said, Jack didn't want to know what was. But he was praying that the sound of his voice might break through and shake Daniel out of this god-awful trance. As it was, he wasn't really confident of getting a reaction, so he was totally unprepared when Daniel suddenly brought his hands up between their bodies and shoved him full on in the chest. Jack lost his balance and went down hard, skidding backwards on his rear end to finish up over by the door.

In the frozen second that followed, Jack realized Daniel was about to throw himself over the rail -- his center of balance shifted backwards, and he started to turn away. Jack's heart slammed up into his throat.

"DANIEL! DON'T!"

Screaming was so much more effective than talking, he'd have to remember that if he ever found himself involved in a last ditch attempt to prevent one of his closest friends from killing themselves again. Daniel stopped, then brought his head back around and stared at him blankly. A glimmer of awareness crossed his face, but it was very short-lived. His face suddenly caved in under an avalanche of emotion, and it seemed to drain him of every ounce of energy. He slowly sank to his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

"Jack, what's wrong with me?"

The words were muffled, but Jack heard them all too clearly. He swallowed a couple of times and, on hands and knees, moved over to Daniel's side, putting his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. Daniel was like putty in his arms.

"Whatever it is, I promise we'll fix it. You hear me Daniel? We'll fix it."

Jack squeezed a little harder, more in a bid to reassure himself that the worst was over, the unthinkable had been avoided, and Daniel was here, right next to him, alive. And he was damn well sure he was going to stay that way too, but if he was going to keep his promise, there were things that needed doing. Still, it took another minute before he could push Daniel gently away from his body, disengaging him from the shoulder he'd burrowed his head into.

"Come on, it's cold out here. You'll be warmer inside."

Jack stood, not letting go of Daniel for one second. In fact he was pretty sure there'd be a few bruises where his fingers were digging in, but he just couldn't seem to get the message through to his hands to ease off. Now all he had to do was get Daniel up onto his feet too, which promised to be a difficult task. He was back to doing the trance thing again, unresponsive to Jack's requests to stand, so it became a matter of dragging him up to vertical. Once that was over and done with, Daniel walked back into the loungeroom with a minimum of fuss. Sure, he was moving like something out of 'Night of the Living Dead', but Jack wasn't complaining. He quietly closed and locked the door behind them, then steered Daniel over to the couch. Daniel just stared at it as though he had no idea what purpose it was designed for.

"Sit." Jack pushed gently on his shoulders. "I know you know this one, okay? Sit down?"

Daniel blinked a couple of times, then did as he was told. His head rolled back on top of the couch and his eyelids drooped to a point way under half mast. Jack watched in silence for a second or two before saying, "Yeah, that's a good idea. You take it easy while I make a couple of calls."

The phone was still off the hook. Jack gently replaced it in the cradle, then picked up and dialed Fraiser's extension at the SGC.

* * * * *

A welcoming committee was waiting for Jack when he drove up to the Cheyenne Mountain security check point. A grim faced welcoming committee, but a very reassuring sight none the less. Apart from a couple of white uniforms milling around an empty hospital gurney, Jack could see Fraiser and Hammond, and right behind them stood Carter and Teal'c.

The drive from Daniel's apartment to the mountain usually took thirty, thirty-five minutes. Jack, breaking every speed limit in the book and red-lining the jeep, had cut a good ten minutes off the trip. He cast a quick glance sideways as he applied the brake. Daniel was slumped up against the passenger side door, his head leaning on the window. The one eye that Jack could see was open. Glassy and unfocused, but at least he was awake. Given that it had been a good couple of minutes since Jack had last yelled at him to stay that way, he considered it a minor miracle. Daniel had been drifting in and out since he'd strapped him into his seat, which made driving at top speed just that touch more invigorating, because when the yelling hadn't worked, Jack had been forced to reach over and give the guy a good old fashioned, teeth rattling shake. If he could've fooled himself into believing Daniel was only falling asleep, Jack would have left him to it. But there was something very unnatural about the state Daniel was in. It was as though he was heavily concussed, or gone a round or two with a Goa'uld ribbon device. The light was on, barely, but Daniel wasn't home. Hell, he wasn't even in the same zip-code.

Jack hadn't switched off the ignition before the medics were at Daniel's door, opening it, undoing his seatbelt and repositioning his body in a series of well coordinated moves. Fraiser was barking orders behind them as they began to maneuver their patient onto the waiting trolley. Watching all that was happening, and paying special attention to the way Daniel was doing a mighty fine impression of a dead body, Jack didn't even realize that the engine was still running. His hands were still clenched tight on the steering wheel, and his foot hadn't moved from the brake pedal. The first thing he did notice, apart from what was going on with Daniel, was a burst of cold air on the side of his face. He looked to his left and saw Carter leaning in through his open door.

"Sir? You all right?"

Jack reached out and turned the ignition off. His hand was shaking, so he quickly put it down beside him. "Yeah. Let me out."

Sam moved sideways and Jack got out and stood beside her. Daniel had already been loaded on the gurney and was being rolled away towards the tunnel when Janet Fraiser suddenly appeared from nowhere. She stood in front of Jack, demanding his attention.

"Colonel O'Neill. I'll need more information from you, I'd appreciate it if you could . . ."

"Report to the infirmary. I'm right behind you."

The doctor nodded once, turned around and was soon running to catch up with her team. Jack blew out a long breath and wiped the palms of his hands, which felt very sweaty all of a sudden, on the sides of his shirt. When he realized he had an audience, he shoved them into his trouser pockets. Hammond, Carter and Teal'c were all standing there, staring at him, most likely waiting for some kind of explanation. Jack wondered exactly what Fraiser had told them of their brief telephone conversation.

Hammond spoke before Jack could think of a suitable place to start. "Colonel O'Neill, is what Doctor Fraiser told us correct? That Doctor Jackson attempted to commit suicide?

Jack removed one hand from his pocket, put the heel of it up to his forehead and pressed hard. "Uhh, for want of a better explanation, I'd say the answer would have to be . . . yes." He waited for the expected bad reaction, but all three of them seemed to take the news in their stride.

Jack could only stare in amazement. "Can I just say that I'm a little surprised that none of you are a little surprised?"

"We've had a bit of a situation here ourselves, sir," Carter announced, then proceeded to chew on her bottom lip.

Teal'c took up where Carter left off. "The remaining members of SG5 have also tried to take their own lives, O'Neill. Sergeant Williams attempted to commandeer my staff weapon in the Gateroom, and then tried to turn his own service revolver upon himself. Private Alonzo was discovered trying to open the veins in both forearms with a razor blade, and Private Lamont almost succeeded in poisoning himself with carbon- monoxide fumes."

For a moment, Jack was too stunned to say anything. He knew his mouth was open, but he couldn't seem to get it closed.

Hammond laid a hand on his shoulder. "Dr Fraiser needs you right now, Jack. We'll debrief when you've finished in the infirmary."

Jack offered a weak 'yes sir' and began walking to the elevator bay. He'd barely taken two paces when Carter fell into step beside him.

"There's a rational answer to all this, sir. Daniel and the others would never . . ."

"For Christ's sake, Carter. You think I don't know that?" Jack snapped, a lot louder then he'd intended. Seeing Sam's hurt expression, he knew an apology was in order. "Sorry. I'm just feeling a little off, okay?"

Sam nodded, bit her lip again. "Janet didn't tell us how . . ." she paused, then softly said, "Was it bad?"

It didn't take much for the memory to resurface. Jack was reliving the instant Daniel had turned towards the rail again, the moment he was sure he'd lost him. He couldn't look at Carter as he answered.

"Yeah. But it could've been a lot worse."

* * * * *

Janet Fraiser frowned. "Has he been like this the entire time?"

Both Jack and Janet watched as a pair of nurses silently went about their business, which at the present moment was getting their charge into a hospital gown. To say Daniel was semi-conscious would be a gross exaggeration. There was no resistance as the women rolled him first one way, then the other, quickly removing the clothes from his upper body. Jack almost called out to go easy with the jacket -- it was his after all -- but he didn't get a chance before the curtain along one side of the bed was whisked shut with a flick of a wrist. It didn't matter anyway. The jacket wasn't important. He turned his attention back to Fraiser.

"Yep. He was pretty much out of it the whole time."

"He didn't say anything?"

Jack took a second to think. "Out on the balcony he said a few things that didn't make much sense, and later he told me his head hurt, but by that stage he was slurring his words. And he was having a lot of trouble with his coordination too."

"How so?" Fraiser asked.

Jack rubbed a hand across his forehead again. "I had a hell of a job getting him down to the jeep. He kept tripping over his feet, like he just couldn't seem to lift them off the ground properly. And he was really out of it on the drive back here. He'd go to sleep, or pass out, or . . . whatever, and when I'd get him to wake up he wouldn't know where he was." Jack gave up trying to massage the tension headache away. He dropped his hand down by his side. "Christ. What do you think it is?"

Fraiser gave a tiny shake of her head. "I don't know Colonel. I'm waiting on bloodwork to rule out the possibility this may all be drug induced, but I'm more inclined to believe we're dealing with some kind of contagion, simply because the effects are getting worse rather than wearing off. It's highly probable they were exposed to something on P4X347." She looked over at the other occupied bed. "Williams is the most advanced case. He became violent when he was stripped of his gun, in fact it took Teal'c and two other men to subdue him, but only fifteen minutes after that, he was comatose. Alonzo and Lamont are practically in the same condition. They're having PET scans done as we speak. Daniel will be next in line." Janet picked up a clipboard from the desk beside her. "When was the last time he spoke to you?"

"Just before we got here it looked like he wanted to say something, but . . ."

Janet raised an eyebrow. "But what?"

"It was like . . . I don't know." Jack let the frustration show on his face. "Like he wanted to talk, but he couldn't."

That tiny piece of information had Janet looking even more worried. "You're telling me he'd lost the ability to speak?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying." Jack replied slowly, letting the implications sink in. Crap. This was a fucking nightmare, and it was getting scarier by the second. He needed some answers, pronto. "So . . . if Williams is in a coma, I'm assuming you think Daniel and the others will end up the same way. What's the plan to stop that from happening?"

Janet chose to scribble a few notes on Daniel's chart rather then meet his eye.

"Doc?"

Fraiser kept writing. "Right now, I'll examine and assess Daniel's condition, then run him through a range of diagnostics. Hopefully I'll have something to tell you very soon." She looked up and gave Jack a smile that didn't go anywhere near making him feel better, then hurried over to Daniel's bedside.

His eyes followed Fraiser as she disappeared behind the curtain, then he stared at the curtain itself for another minute or two. Riveting stuff. He couldn't really hear anything, and he sure as hell couldn't see anything, so what was the point? Carter and Teal'c were waiting outside, and Hammond would be doing the same upstairs, expecting a report. Since the only thing he'd likely be doing here would be staring at nothing, or getting in everyone's way when they were finished in there, he decided it might be better for all concerned if he went and got the bad news delivery over and done with.

* * * * *

One thing that could be said about Janet Fraiser in all certainty was that she worked quickly. Doubly true in times of crisis, probably due to the fact that she'd had a lot of practice dealing with them. Jack was still in the debriefing room with Carter, Teal'c and Hammond when he and the general were paged to the infirmary. Two minutes later they were standing beside Daniel's bed, Jack studiously trying to avoid looking too closely at the array of machines that had been hooked up to his friend, and the fact that Daniel seemed more dead than he had before - if that was possible - as Fraiser ran them through the results of the pet scan. The tests had ruled out any trace of drugs or disease, but since all the victims had P4X347 in common, Jack wasn't willing to give up on the idea that something on that damn planet had caused this, and that the cure could be found there as well. Janet was quick to point out that the preliminary MALP readings had eliminated a lot of possible theories. Air was good, there were no traces of radiation present -- but all that amounted to was diddly squat. If Jack had learned anything at all about interplanetary travel via the Stargate, it was to expect the unexpected. Every day threw a new variety of curve ball at them.

"So, if we retrace SG5's tracks, we may be able to come up with something," Jack was happy to nudge the doctor and the general closer towards some sort of decision by stating the blatantly obvious.

"I'm afraid colonel, until we get a grasp on . . ."

Jack didn't allow Hammond to get any further into his patented 'it's too dangerous' speech. "General. We saw the shadow on the video. Now something, or someone, is affecting these guys . . ."

Fraiser interrupted. "More than affecting them sir. If their brain function continues to fail, they could be facing a worst case scenario."

Jack didn't let himself dwell on the several images that statement conjured up. He said to the general, "So we go in, MOP2, bring back samples of the usual suspects . . ."

Apparently no-one was going to get the opportunity to finish a sentence during this conversation, because this time, Hammond cut Jack off. "You've aired your case colonel. Watch your step."

* * * * *

Less than half an hour later, Jack was standing in front of the ramp in the Gate room, dressed in a full contamination suit, minus the headgear, which was presently dangling from his right hand. The sound of the fourth chevron engaging caused him to press the send switch on his transmitter. He looked up at the control room and said, "You wouldn't happen to know where the rest of my team is, would you Davis?"

Before there was any kind of response from above, Carter and Teal'c, one running, one striding, made their belated entrance. As they moved to join him, Teal'c to his left and Carter to his right, Jack deliberately stared straight out in front and said, "Late note?"

Teal'c said nothing. The Jaffa was becoming more and more human every day. Lately he could pick a smartass comment from a mile away. But Carter, God bless her endless supply of military etiquette, rose to the bait.

"Sorry, sir. We were with Daniel."

Oh. Jack grimaced as he was suddenly brought back down to Earth. Ironic really, considering he was just about to step off it. The last symbol locked into place and the gate opened with the usual round of sound effects. Jack waited to hear the order from Hammond.

"SG1 you have a go. God speed."

Teal'c pulled on his head gear and walked slowly up the ramp. Carter was about to do the same, but Jack took hold of her arm.

"How's he doing?"

The pained expression on Carter's face was unsettling, and in itself was all the answer that Jack required. "Not so good, huh?"

Carter stared down at the floor for a second. When she lifted her head again she'd regained her composure. Military training came in handy on these sorts of occasions.

"He's totally unresponsive. Janet told us to talk to him, squeeze his hand and all the rest of it, and I tried . . ."

"But?" Jack asked as they followed in Teal'c's footsteps.

Carter was starting to look upset again. "We weren't even in there twenty minutes, but it was just so frustrating. I mean, I knew Daniel wasn't going to wake up there and then and suddenly be all right, not after I'd seen all his test results, but part of me kept expecting that to happen. When it didn't . . ." Sam shook her head and blew out a breath. ""It's hard to explain."

They were standing only a few inches away from the event horizon now, staring into the blue. Jack said, "It's hard to see anyone like that, but seeing Daniel like that . . ."

Carter turned her head and looked Jack straight in the eye, and he knew what he wanted to say, he just didn't think he could say it. Sam seemed to hear him loud and clear though, because she nodded in silent understanding.

"Let go find our boys a cure." Jack tried to sound confident, but didn't think he pulled it off completely.

Sam smiled hesitantly. They both put on their headgear and stepped into the vortex.

* * * * *

It didn't take them long at all to find the light room, and it was every bit as spectacular as Daniel had described. Spellbinding, in fact. Once they'd managed to drag themselves away from there, it didn't take very much longer to find SG5's 'shadow'. His name was Loren, and, surprise, surprise, he was just a kid. O'Neill had to marvel at the apparently endless supply of wide-eyed, waylaid children all over the galaxy just waiting to cross paths with SG1. Seemed like every second mission they'd be stumbling over one.

Jack had a feeling that their good fortune in locating Loren so quickly had more to do with the boy wanting to be found this time, rather than any brilliant effort on their behalf. He also suspected that the boy knew more than what he was letting on. When Jack had mentioned that their friends were all very sick after visiting this place, he could've sworn he'd saw a guilty look flicker across Loren's face, and he was sure the boy was about to tell him something - - but in the end, the kid just shook his head and said nothing. Jack wasn't too worried. Yet. If they'd found the boy so easily, maybe they'd be just as lucky in finding his parents, and they might be able to shed a little light, so to speak, on the problem at hand.

His train of thought was cut short by Carter's voice, crackling through his receiver.

"Colonel. General Hammond has activated the Stargate and is on the radio."

"All right," Jack responded. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."

* * * * *

One minute you think things are bad. The next minute you find out that things weren't so bad after all, because suddenly you have a whole new perspective on what actually constitutes a bad thing.

Example number one. Before Jack went to speak with General Hammond, SG5 were alive, and Daniel was in a serious, but stable, condition. After their conversation? Williams, Lamont and Alonzo were all dead, and Daniel had slipped into a deeper coma, which could only mean he wasn't very far off joining them.

Example number two. Before Jack left P4X347, he was his normal self, albeit with a lot of things on his mind that he'd rather not be there at all, but he was dealing. Less than a hour after arriving earthside with the samples, he was lying on a bed in the infirmary, Fraiser telling him he was afflicted with the same thing Daniel had. He was addicted to something on Loren's planet, and they were no closer to working out exactly what that was, which had to mean that they probably never would.

Example number three. After hearing what Fraiser had to say, Jack was feeling pretty damn angry, and to be honest, more than a little sorry for himself. Then he heard one of the machines near Daniel's bed begin to wail, and instantly the mind set altered again. Things had gone from extremely bad to deadly urgent in the space of a heartbeat.

Ignoring the fact that he had a blinding headache, and moving only added to the overall pain, Jack sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed in one fluid movement. "What's that?"

Fraiser had already hurried over to Daniel. "His EEG's sporadic." She tore her eyes from the monitor, looked at Jack and said, "This is exactly what happened to the members of SG5 before they died. Sir, you're going to have to take him back to the planet." As she began disconnecting things all over the place, she called out, "Need some help over here, STAT!"

One of the nurses who had tended to Daniel earlier sprinted over, but Fraiser was too busy extracting the IV line to spare her a glance. "Get rid of the cannula and put him on a mask. We'll need to decatheterise as well." She pulled the needle from the back of Daniel's hand and pressed a small piece of gauze bandage to the wound. "I want him dressed and ready to transport in two minutes -- "

She stopped the nurse as she went to take the leads off Daniel's chest. "We'll disconnect the EKG at the gate room. He could go asytole."

* * * * *

He's coding!

No time to resuscitate.

Let's GO!!

Janet Fraiser's words kept sounding over and over again in Jack's brain, competing with another, smaller voice that refused to shut up. The one that was saying, too late, too late.

A pair of legs that had seen much better days -- and a knee that was way past it's use by date -- pumped hard underneath the colonel's body, pushing him, and the inert weight he carried, up the Gateroom ramp towards the open vortex. Jack was oblivious to everything except the endless litany playing in his mind. The screaming heat of overtaxed muscles, the beat of his heart and thrum of blood in his ears, even the absence of any sign of life in the body draped across his shoulders . . . none of these had a hope in hell of drowning out those damn voices in his head.

The last thing the small voice said before the wormhole swallowed him was, God, this is Daniel's corpse I'm carrying. He's . . .

. . . dead, was the first coherent thought to enter his mind when he was spat out on the other side.

Jack took another few staggering steps away from the gate before quickly sliding Daniel's body from his shoulders, slipping a hand underneath his head to ease him, as gently as possible, down onto the floor.

He's not breathing you idiot . . . worry about that before you worry about his damn head.

Daniel's face was turning blue, his lips already an alarmingly dark, bruised shade. No chest movements. Jack hurried his fingers to the side of Daniel's throat, searching for a pulse.

Oh Christ.

"Daniel." Jack moved his hand up, squeezed Daniel's chin. Hard. "Daniel!"

Still nothing.

But just what did he expect? That this fucked up planet was somehow going to miraculously restore his friend to life? Oh God.

"Oh God . . . Daniel . . . DANIEL!!"

Jack shook Daniel's face, and his head rolled lifelessly in a horrible response. The sight caused Jack's heart to thump even more fiercely. He heard himself shouting, heard the panic in his voice, "Let's go! Come ON!!"

So many times he'd yelled those words at Daniel, and nearly every time, they had worked, had made the man move, even when there'd been no more gas in the tank. Times when Jack was certain Daniel had no more left to give, he'd always found something, somewhere, and kept on going.

Come on Daniel. Keep going. Come back.

"CARTER!

TEAL'C!"

Jack bellowed hard enough for his lungs to hurt. He tore his eyes from Daniel's face only long enough to cast a glance across the room, hoping -- praying-- that he'd see the rest of his team come running, but knowing on some deeper level that it wasn't going to happen. The thought made his anger flare brighter, searching for an outlet.

Loren stepped out from the shadows at the end of the room, his eyes huge and staring. Scared witless, no doubt, by the terrible scene playing out in front of him.

Jack didn't have the luxury of time to take it easy on the boy. Daniel was already on borrowed seconds, and they were fast running out, ticking down to inevitability. He needed Carter, needed her here five minutes ago.

"Where are my friends?" he demanded.

Loren looked startled enough to run. Jack stared hard into his eyes, willing him to stay where he was and answer the question.

"At the light."

In the most reasonable tone he could possibly hope to achieve, Jack asked, "Go get them for me, will you?"

"They won't come." Loren spoke with an air of absolute certainty.

Jack quickly looked down at Daniel, then up at the boy, the utter urgency of the situation spilling out . . . "Well, TRY!"

The words cracked like a whip. Loren jumped, then bolted away. Daniel still wasn't breathing. There was no more time left to wait for help, that for all intents and purposes, wasn't going to come. Jack was trained in field first aid, could perform CPR, EAR and all the other acronyms that stood for saving someone's ass, but for a very long time . . . ever since Charlie . . . there had always been someone else to give it. For the last four years it had always been Carter.

Just do it. What are you afraid of?

The answer to that was simple. He could try to breathe life back into Daniel, could try to coax his heart to start up again, . . . just like Charlie, his inner voice intoned, right on cue. But what if he failed? Again? Because it's too late, the relentless little voice of doom reminded him. Was there room enough for another frozen place in his heart? The will to drag out the remainder of his sorry life with another knife twisted deep into his gut?

Jack shook his head. Whoaaa. That depression-withdrawal thing was still kicking in hard. He forced himself to move, to simply not think if it could possibly be avoided, and started to reposition Daniel's head to commence the first long breath of resuscitation. A sound stopped him. The sound of Daniel dragging in a tiny bit of air.

A huge smile erupted on Jack's face. He gave Daniel's cheek a small slap. "Come on Danny, you can do better than that. Deep breathing," he kept tapping Daniel's face as he spoke. "You know, the kind you do on the phone late at night."

Daniel's eyes were moving under the lids, and he started to shiver. Warming up after a trip through the gate usually wasn't a problem when you were up and moving around, but lying unconscious on a cold marble floor was a whole different scenario. It didn't help matters that Daniel was minus his jacket, but hey, him being on the brink of death was really the priority a few minutes ago. They'd barely had time to get him into his trousers and boots, let alone worry about anything else.

Hoping to elicit a stronger response from his friend, Jack put a hand on either side of the young man's face and applied a steady amount of pressure. "Daniel, if you're gonna live, trust me, it's a lot more fun if you're conscious."

Daniel blinked once and opened his eyes, but there was not a hint of awareness in them, only a far away, unfocused stare. For a horrifying few seconds, Jack could think only bad things. Very, very bad things. Along the lines of -- lack of oxygen to brain equals . . . something he really didn't want to think about at all.

"Daniel. Saying something to me right now would be good."

Daniel blinked again, groaned, and mumbled something entirely foreign sounding on the exhale of a breath.

Jack smiled. "Okay. That's good . . . I think." He patted Daniel on the shoulder, then looked around for any sign of his missing team members arrival. And suddenly, he felt very angry again. Violent mood swings, hadn't Janet said something about that? That she was certain they would ease when he returned to this dipshitty planet? Yeah, sure. Whatever. Score another one for good ol' Doc Fraiser.

Daniel groaned again and his eyelids slid shut. While he might have resumed breathing, it didn't sound at all like a permanent thing to Jack, and he sure as hell looked like someone more dead than alive.

"Hang on Danny, okay? Help's coming."

Or was it? For chrissakes, where the hell were Carter and Teal'c? And what the FUCK did they think they were doing that was so DAMNED ALL important? Important enough to leave him here with a DYING Daniel . . . Any hope of logical thought sailed out the window. Jack climbed swiftly to his feet, swamped by a tidal wave of emotion that left him unable to acknowledge his helpless friend on the floor. Colonel O'Neill strode down the corridor towards the 'light' room, a six foot tall storm front of holy indignation.

* * * * *

Daniel couldn't remember stepping off the sidewalk, even though it must have happened just a second or two ago. He couldn't have looked both ways either, and boy, didn't he wish now that he had? Because he would surely have seen the truck coming, which meant he wouldn't have walked straight out in front of it, which also meant he wouldn't be feeling like this. Splattered, like a bug on a screen. He was smashed apart and torn inside out. Taking a breath was suddenly the hardest thing he'd ever done. Why wasn't anyone helping him? He was cold. So unbelievably cold. Someone would come very soon. They'd cover him with a blanket, because that's exactly what you're supposed to do when someone has been run over, especially when they're still lying in the middle of the road, like he was. Of course, the first thing they'd do would be make sure he was still alive . . . and Daniel was fairly certain he was still alive -- he really didn't think it was possible to hurt like this and be dead at the same time. . .

Oh God. His lungs were seizing up again, a great big charley horse in the middle of his chest. He tried to tell himself not to panic, that panicking would only make it worse, but really, thinking about staying calm was a whole lot easier than actually doing it, when all he knew was that he needed to breathe in, right now . . .

He could hear a rattling noise that could only be the sound of himself choking to death. His panic was all encompassing now, but he couldn't move, he couldn't think, and he was shriveling up into nothingness. One last screaming order to BREATHE!!! exploded in his mind, and then, incredibly, the iron band across his ribs relaxed by the barest of margins . . . and it was enough for him to pull in a small breath. Then another. The luxury of incoming air was nothing short of brilliant, and he found himself taking one gulp after another, almost perfecting a rhythm. The secret, he told himself, was to keep going. Don't stop. Stay calm. Someone would come, and what was keeping them so long anyway? He was freezing, but they would come soon and cover him up. With a blanket. They'd call for an ambulance. Everything would be all right.

Daniel opened his eyes. He was flat on his back, staring up at the sky, but the sky wasn't blue anymore, it was some other strange color and texture. No clouds, and it was closer than he remembered it should be. It was . . . a ceiling. Strange. He rolled his head carefully to one side. And saw . . . a stargate? He squinted at it suspiciously for a moment or two, since he figured there was a very good chance he was hallucinating. Okay. The gate wasn't disappearing, or changing into something else as equally bizarre. That would apparently rule out the truck idea. So, some other, as yet unknown, accident had befallen him. He had no idea what. Or when. Or . . . Where exactly was he, and how the hell did he get here?

Pushing himself up was very hard to do, with jelly arms and a head that was a lot heavier than a head ever had a right to be, but Daniel did it anyway. He had to settle for half way up though, propped crookedly on one elbow. He looked around, even managed a backward glance over his shoulder, and slowly came to realize he was on the "light" planet, although he was pretty sure he'd gone back to Earth at some point in time.

There had to be an explanation. Maybe Jack was about to jump out from behind the gate and yell April Fool? That would be nice. However, it wouldn't explain why he felt like road kill, unless he'd been drugged or something, and even Jack wouldn't stoop that low. Would he?

The floor was like ice underneath him. He'd been shivering since he woke up and now his whole body was joining in. He was shaking all over, his teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and his arm wasn't going to support him up here very much longer. Letting his weight roll him over and onto his backside, he planted both hands on the floor and levered himself into a sitting position. The room started spinning as a result, and he knew he was going to be sick. He pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his forehead down on them, fighting back the waves of nausea that kept coming, one on top of the other. All he wanted to do was lie back down again, curl up into a ball, and go to sleep. Wake up when things were not insane. But he was too cold and too tired to move. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to think. Tried to remember something. Anything.

Working on translations with Teal'c . . .

Trying to make that little Goa`uld computer work . . .

Growing increasingly frustrated and angry . . .

And yelling . . . there'd been lots of yelling.

Oh shit.

He remembered being in General Hammond's office, shouting at him, demanding to come back here. He remembered the urge, the irresistible need, to leave straight away . . . but the general hadn't understood. Hammond had told him that one more day wasn't going to make a difference, and that was akin to waving a red rag at a bull. Daniel couldn't hold himself back, before he knew it he was yelling and throwing his hands around in the air like a crazy man, spouting off something about the general missing the point entirely, if his faulty memory served him correctly. Hammond had told Jack to remove him from his office, and Daniel reacted by rolling his eyes at the general and storming out the door. Jack, of course, had followed him into the corridor, bellowing his name. He'd grabbed at Daniel's arm, trying to slow him down. And . . . oh shit didn't cover it. The memories were hazy, but some were a little clearer than others. Telling Jack to take his fucking hands off him was one that stood out like a beacon . . .

"Jack, if you don't take your fucking hands off me, I swear, I'll . . ."

"You'll what? Hit me?" Jack had actually seemed amused for a fleeting second, but from there it all went straight to hell . . . His eyes narrowed, and he began to talk fairly rapidly -- always a bad sign with Jack, because it usually meant there was no working link from his brain to his mouth.

"What is it with you that you don't know when to stop? You're way past the point of exhaustion here Daniel, but you just keep pushing yourself until you turn completely obnoxious. Go and sleep it off. Because I, for one, am sick and tired of putting up with your goddamned histrionics."

Jack wasn't exactly yelling, but it was pretty close to it, and his tone, as well as their combined body language, was enough to have one of the guards staring at them, looking like he was about to intervene.

Jack tightened his grip, and Daniel retaliated by grabbing hold of his friend's arms, pulling them away from himself and pushing them back against Jack's chest. Then he'd leaned forward, his face an inch away from Jack's, and his anger was like a runaway train.

"You're worse than Hammond, Jack. You follow orders because you don't have the ability to summon up a single thought by yourself. You're dumb as dog shit, but try to understand this. I'll say it slowly. Don't ever lay your hands on me again. Now leave me the fuck alone."

Jack just stared. He didn't look surprised, didn't even appear the least bit hurt by the outburst - he'd given Daniel none of the reactions that he had so badly wanted to see. His face was frozen, his expression nothing but cold intent.

"Go home and sleep," he said.

It was then that Daniel had realized how hard his hands were squeezing into Jack's wrists, and he'd let go like he'd been burned.

"Jack . . ." But Jack had already turned and walked away.

The whole argument had a dream-like feel to it, as though he'd been split into two versions of himself, and the real him had been reduced to a simple side-line spectator. Maybe that was the answer. This was all a monstrous nightmare. He was sick, there was something very obviously wrong with him, so he'd hang on to the hope that it was all imagined, fever-induced -- he couldn't really have said those things to Hammond, and to Jack . . . God. They'd had some pretty hairy arguments before, he and Jack, and said some ugly things to each other, but never without good reason. What had got him so incensed this time? Dumb as dog shit? Where the hell had that come from?

By now the feeling he was going to vomit everywhere had just about passed, so Daniel decided to make the most of it. There had to be someone here, somewhere. Hammond had authorized SG1 to come back to this planet, he remembered that much. But he had absolutely no recollection of getting here.

He lifted his head and called out, "Anyone there?"

Wow. He sounded like a small animal dying. Pitiful. No one was ever going to hear that. Cautiously, he drew a deeper breath, and tried again.

"Sam? Jack?"

"Teal'c?"

"Anyone?"

He strained to hear a response, a noise -- anything to indicate he wasn't alone and abandoned for some unfathomable reason. Now there was a frightening thought. His ears were ringing from the exertion of calling out, but he thought he could just make out some sound, possibly voices, in another room. It had to be the rest of his team, or he supposed it could be SG5. In any event, it appeared that whoever it was couldn't hear him calling. They weren't going to come to him, so he'd just have to get up and go to them. In a minute or two.

Daniel put his head back down and took a few slow breaths. His body felt achy and sore all over, like someone had used him for a punching bag, and he really doubted that he'd have the strength to walk. However, the need to find out what was happening was really eating away at him, and it quickly outweighed all the negative arguments. Very slowly and awkwardly, he got onto his knees, and then tried to get his feet underneath himself to stand up.

Everything around him suddenly drained of color, like someone had thrown a gigantic dimmer switch. There was a loud buzzing in Daniel's ears, and a vague sensation of falling forward. His face smacked into something hard and cold. Then he felt nothing.

When he came to, he was flat on the floor, with his nose about an inch away from the bottom step leading to the gate. Arms shaking, he reached out and placed his hands on it, and with an effort that had him sweating and feeling sick to his stomach again, dragged himself up and around to sit down. He let his head drop down onto his knees, feeling dangerously close to passing out again.

He had no idea how long he sat there waiting to either feel better or die. The issue was still undecided when he heard the voices again. They were getting louder, coming closer, but he couldn't move, couldn't lift his head. And then someone was sitting beside him. Without looking, Daniel knew it was Jack. He didn't know how he knew at first, but then he realized he was listening to the sound of the colonel's voice. He tried to concentrate on what Jack was saying, but he was only catching a word here and there.

". . . bring him back . . . only thing . . . keep him alive . . ."

Jack was speaking about him like he wasn't there, which just added to the overall weirdness of the day. Invisibility was not all it was cracked up to be, Daniel had first hand experience on that count, but being treated like you were invisible when you most definitely weren't was even worse. Why wasn't Jack asking if he was all right? If what he'd heard was correct, and dying was the alternative to being here, then ignoring him completely was a little too callous, even for Jack.

Although Daniel had an inkling as to what may be behind it.

I'll say it slowly. Don't ever lay your hands on me again.

It was going to take a long time for that one to wear off. Until then, Jack would probably speak to him only when absolutely necessary. And there was the dumb as dog shit comment to factor in as well. Jack possibly wouldn't speak to him again for the rest of his life . . . but hell, Daniel really thought that having a team member who was about to keel over permanently, if he looked anything like he felt, would fall into the 'absolutely necessary to communicate' category. In any commanding officer's book.

Guess he thought wrong.

Any urge Daniel may have had to lift his head up and speak disintegrated. He continued to listen, and it didn't take him long to realize Sam and Teal'c were here too, somewhere in front of him, but a fair distance away. He tried not to think too much about the fact that they were both ignoring him as well. Instead he focused on what was being said around him, hoping to gain an insight into his current predicament. Seemed that eavesdropping was the only way he was going to get a clue.

He tuned himself back into the conversation. Jack was saying he'd been gone a few hours. A few hours since when? "Hammond tried to contact you," he added.

Teal'c's voice rumbled, "He did not."

Someone else said, "He did. I heard his voice." To Daniel, it sounded like a young boy talking. More weirdness.

"Where were we?" That voice he knew anywhere. Sam.

The unidentified voice answered, "In there," which was just a little too cryptic for Daniel at the present moment.

"I can't explain it sir." Sam said, sounding dumbfounded.

"Fraiser thinks we're all addicted to something here that alters our brain chemistry." Jack was being as straight to the point as ever. But it was what Jack said, rather than the way in which he said it, that had Daniel thinking. Altered brain chemistry. Now that sounded promising, and it might go a long way to answering some of the multitude of questions hammering away inside Daniel's head. Keep talking Jack.

"Dollars to doughnuts it's that damn light."

The light. How could that be possible?

"I don't see how that's possible," Sam protested, giving voice to Daniel's exact thoughts -- and wasn't that handy, seeing no one was liable to take any notice of him if he had said it. That's if he felt up to talking. Which he didn't.

"Hey . . . you knew didn't you?"

That was Jack again, and there was anger building in his voice. For a confused couple of seconds, Daniel thought Jack was accusing him of something. But then he heard, "That's why you're not allowed in there!"

It had to be the kid. Jack was talking to the kid. And getting pissed off at a serious rate of knots. Sam was saying something now which Daniel couldn't quite hear -- but he guessed she was probably attempting to calm the situation down by throwing a bit of logic into the discussion. Whatever it was, it wasn't working. Daniel could feel the impatience coming off Jack in waves. "Oh screw it," Jack muttered."We're shutting the thing off."

Well there was an asinine idea. If Jack would simply acknowledge his presence, and maybe help him up, Daniel knew he could figure out what was going on. It was probably safe to say that the kid lived here on the planet, so, taking that assumption one step further, he might also be able to help with the translation of the goa`uld computer . . .

Daniel finally got his head to move. Only to find himself deserted. Again. This was more than weird. This was fucking unbelievable. What was wrong with his team mates that they couldn't give him a little help? Jack was pissed off, okay. But Sam and Teal'c? Surely they weren't angry at him too. Unless, of course, he'd done something incredibly stupid, created this situation they were in, whatever it may be. Put them in danger somehow? Or maybe he was invisible . . . No, Jack had sat down next to him like he knew he was there. And hadn't he said something about bringing him back? It was really hard to think, really hard to keep a single train of thought going for more than a few seconds when every muscle hurt, and his head was going to float away from his body at any tick of the clock.

Huh. Head was heavy one minute and not there the next . . . The pain was a constant companion though, and the cold. He'd kill for someone's jacket. And a couple of dozen Tylenol. Daniel rubbed his hands over his eyes and stared out in front of him. At that moment he realized he had company. Minus his glasses, all Daniel could see was a smudged shape of a person standing on the other side of the room.

The blur took a few steps towards him . . . "Are you all right?"

It was the same young voice Daniel had heard talking before.

Daniel cleared his throat and said, "No. But thanks for asking."

The boy edged closer. He was about fifteen or sixteen, and it was plain to see, even to the moderately myopic, that he was very scared.

"I'm Daniel Jackson, peaceful explorer . . ." Daniel's throat was protesting the sudden workload. ". . . from the planet Earth."

"I know," the boy said.

Daniel coughed softly again. "Mind telling me how?"

"I've been watching you since you got here the first time. I'm Loren."

The boy walked over and stood in front of him, but Daniel didn't have the energy to keep holding his head up any longer. He motioned for Loren to sit down, but the boy didn't move.

"You're cold," Loren said. "I'll get you a blanket."

He was gone before Daniel could say thank you.

* * * * *

"Where's Colonel O'Neill?"

Daniel had been talking to General Hammond via the Stargate for the past few minutes, organizing supplies. His jacket and glasses topped the list of necessities. The blanket Loren had given him was little more than a scrap of some type of synthetic material, worn completely through in several places. Daniel had wrapped it around his shoulders for a short period of time, but as it provided no warmth, had removed it when Loren wasn't looking. The thought had certainly been appreciated, and he didn't want to hurt the boy's feelings.

Daniel had also managed to slip in an apology to the general for his earlier behavior, something he still couldn't remember all that clearly. It was one of the first things he'd said to Hammond . . . a lame 'sorry about that by the way' . . . uttered as quickly as he could get his mouth to work properly. The general didn't seem overly worried about the tantrum he'd thrown, which was fine by Daniel, although he wasn't sure if that meant it really didn't happen or that there was some other reason for Hammond's willingness to forget. . . and shit, his head was really starting to ache. He looked over his shoulder and then back towards the gate. "Ummm, I think . . ."

Hammond spoke up before he had the chance to finish the sentence. "Don't worry about it now, son. Doctor Fraiser is here and she'd like to have a word or two with you. I'll have those supplies sent through immediately, and I'd like you to tell Colonel O'Neill to report to me asap. Take care of yourself."

Janet Fraiser's voice came through straight away. "Dr Jackson. How are you feeling?"

"Better." Daniel wasn't exactly lying. Yes, his head was working it's way up to a steady pound, but it was a one hundred per cent improvement on how he'd felt when he'd first come around. He was actually beginning to feel functional again. "Although I really don't know what happened to me . . ." He paused, hoping Janet would furnish a few answers. Hammond's comment of 'we'd thought we'd lost you', had been disconcerting, to say the absolute least.

"Daniel, you need to be off your feet and resting. I hope Colonel O'Neill made that clear to you. Do you remember anything of what happened after he brought you back from your apartment? Any part of what I told you in the infirmary?"

Well, he'd learned a few things there in quick succession. Jack was at his apartment for some reason. Jack had also brought him back to the infirmary, which suggested to Daniel that he wasn't able to get there under his own steam. And last but not least, Janet had apparently talked with him sometime after that. About what? Daniel was drawing total blanks on all three accounts.

Janet didn't wait any longer for him to answer. "I guess you don't. Okay, I'll make it brief. Everyone who's visited that planet has been affected by an indiscriminate contaminate of unknown origin, one which interferes with the chemistry of the brain. We've ruled out a number of possible sources, but unfortunately we're still no closer to pinpointing the actual cause."

At last Daniel could think of something to say. "Oh yeah, Jack thinks it's the light. I'm hoping the translations . . ."

"Daniel. Listen to me. Exposure to the source must be constant. The moment you and SG5 left the planet, your brain activity began to slow. There were a number of serious side effects, both physical and mental, and you finally deteriorated to the point of complete neural shut down."

"Are you telling me I was . . ." Daniel swallowed an enormous lump in his throat, " . . . brain dead?"

Janet was quick to reply, "No, you were comatose, but you didn't reach that stage. You went extremely close to it though, so close that your major bodily functions stopped. When Colonel O'Neill took you back through the gate, you were in complete cardiopulmonary arrest."

"Oh," Daniel mouthed. "What about the others?"

There was a lengthy silence. Daniel asked apprehensively, "Janet? What about SG5?"

"They didn't make it Daniel."

Daniel felt like he'd been punched hard, in the stomach. He had no air left with which to speak.

"They had a longer exposure than you. We did everything we could . . ."

More of the silence. Then . . .

"I'm sorry I had to tell you like this Daniel. It's a bad way to find out. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Daniel wet his lips but then found he didn't have the will to say anything more.

"Okay," Janet said gently. "I know I don't have to spell out how important it is for SG1 to get to the bottom of this, to find the source, and I also know you'll want to try and help. But Daniel, it's paramount that you don't try to assist the others in any way. I can't stress that enough. Your dopamine levels are undoubtedly skyrocketing again, and that will give you a false sense of well being for a time. It won't last. You've suffered a huge trauma, and sooner or later your body will realize that fact. If you push yourself now, when you're reacting to the flood of biochemicals in your system, you'll pay dearly for it later. Do you understand what I'm telling you? I can't be there with you, so I'm relying on you to do what I say, and that means you do nothing but rest. Monitoring equipment will be sent through with the other supplies, and I'll need blood samples taken from all of you. Where's Major Carter?"

Daniel blinked a few times, busily trying to absorb all what the doctor had just said, but all he could see right now were the faces of the men he'd got to know pretty well over the last couple of weeks. Williams had reminded him a lot of Jack. Same sick sense of humor . . . well, maybe not that bad . . .

"Daniel? Did you hear me? Where's Sam?"

"Ahh, they're all in the light room."

"Okay. The supplies are on their way through now, and I'm sending written instructions on what I want Sam to do. We'll shut the wormhole down once everything's across. Get the others to move the crates. Understood?"

"Yeah. It's under control." Daniel moved to one side of the gate, and motioned for Loren to join him. "You've seen things come through this before?"

The boy looked at him like he was slightly mad, then nodded his head. Daniel hadn't got much out of him in the fifteen minutes or so since they'd been left alone. The kid was visibly shaken, scared. But scared of what? It wasn't just because Jack had yelled at him -- Daniel felt fairly sure of that. Could it be he was afraid of the light being shut down?

As the first of the boxes bumped out of the gate, Daniel turned to Loren and said, "We're not going to do anything that would hurt you, you know that don't you?"

Loren's eyes said otherwise. "Jack said he was going to turn the light off. He shouldn't do that."

The fact that SG5 were all dead hit Daniel again. Barber, Williams, Alonzo, Lamont. An entire team of good men, silently wiped out, and he'd been powerless to stop it. He stared at Loren and said, "Why shouldn't he do that, Loren? Is the light keeping us all alive?"

A smaller carton was flung out of the wormhole at speed, landing a good ten feet in front of the gate. Daniel prayed his glasses or the Goa`uld device weren't in there. He and Loren watched it tumble to a standstill, then the boy said, "I just know that you shouldn't switch it off. You have to believe me. I don't want . . ."

Very upset now, Loren stopped mid-sentence. Daniel waited for him to continue. When he didn't, he said softly, "Okay. Why don't you go tell Colonel O'Neill -- Jack -- what you just told me."

"No. He won't listen. He's really mad at me."

Daniel smiled. "Don't worry, Jack's always mad at someone. He'll get over it. The woman who's with him, Sam, you know her too, don't you?" Loren nodded. "She's very smart. In fact I'm sure she's worked out everything there is to know about that light already. She won't let the colonel do anything that may risk anyone's life, I promise you. Do you believe me?"

Loren considered that for a moment, while he stared at the floor. Finally, he looked up.

"I believe you."

"Good. After you talk to Sam you can come back here and help me. I found a small device that contains a lot of information, but it's all in writing like that," Daniel pointed to the Goa`uld inscriptions on the wall behind them. "I'm having a lot of trouble turning it on, but if I can, I'm hoping I might learn how to read it. It could be the key to finding out what made us all so sick. Think you can work it out with me?"

For the first time, at least that Daniel was aware of, Loren smiled.

"Not a problem."

* * * * *

The solution, when Carter and Daniel finally found it, was pretty damn basic. It turned out that their ticket off 347 was as simple as turning a couple of dials down a few notches. But there was a catch. Of course. There was always a catch, and this one meant there was going to be no speedy departure. They -- at least he, Carter, and Daniel, anyway -- were stuck here for at least another two weeks. And the more Jack thought about that, the more he was getting pissed off. As much as Carter might like to think he enjoyed doing nothing at all, the truth was, he didn't. Now, if there were some fish in that ocean out there, and he could stay outside long enough to catch one before he started to go nuts from withdrawal . . . maybe it wouldn't be that bad after all.

Teal'c was about to step into the activated gate. It was the only time having a slimy alien worm in your gut could be considered the least bit lucky, Jack thought to himself.

"See ya in a couple of weeks, big buddy. Don't have too much fun without us."

Teal'c turned around and gave that little twitch of his lips that he evidently thought passed for a smile. He dipped his head and then looked up again. "I will find much to occupy my time, O'Neill. Goodbye."

Jack frowned as Teal'c disappeared into the blue. That comment was going to have him thinking for at least a week. What could Teal'c possibly find to do without him there to tell him how to do it? There'd be no one around to show the big guy what bait would be best, or what club he'd need for that particular green, or even what television channel to watch. Teal'c would be lost without him. For sure.

Jack turned his attention to Carter. She was checking through one of the many boxes that were stacked over by the side wall. Hammond had even sent a generator and heating equipment through, which was extremely odd. Not that Jack was looking a gift horse in the mouth. The planet was cold, obviously it was off-season at Club Goa`uld, but SG1 had toughed it out in a lot worse conditons than this before. This time they had a roof over their heads, and courtesy of the general, camp beds, blankets, sleeping bags -- Jack surveyed the array of equipment.

Shit, they had everything but the kitchen sink. That thought made his stomach rumble.

"I don't know about you, Carter, but I'm starving. It's been a long time since breakfast." He glanced around the room. "Once we get all this gear organized, we'll eat."

They worked solidly, without a lot of talk, for the next half hour or so, Jack setting up several lanterns around the room as the natural light coming in through the high-set windows began to fade. Now, with one or two boxes still to be emptied, the lamps were practically the sole source of illumination. The shadows they cast had grown long, but Jack's energy levels had inexorably begun to wind down. To him, the day felt like it had been going on for about a week so far, and there was still the preparation of the evening meal to be dealt with. Deciding he'd had enough of the unpacking, Jack straightened up, stretched the kink out of his back, and walked over to Carter. She was crouched down in front of an open carton, reading what looked to be a few pages of handwritten notes.

"Where are the boys?" Jack hadn't seen hide nor hair of Daniel or Loren since Teal'c had gone back through the gate.

"Loren wanted to show Daniel some more of the Goa`uld script." Sam looked up at him, and she definitely wasn't happy. "But we'd better find them. These instructions are from Janet. Why didn't you tell me how serious Daniel's condition became?"

"I thought I did." At least he was pretty sure he did, somewhere along the line. That Goa`uld contraption had scrambled his brains. It was hard to think straight.

Sam was angry. Nowhere near as mad as she'd been on the beach, but angry enough.

"Well, you didn't. Daniel was working on those translations for what, about three hours? And he and Loren must have moved all this equipment away from the gate while we were in there staring at the light show."

"So?"

Carter gave an amazed little shake of her head. "So, a few hours ago, Daniel was clinically dead, that's all. He should be in the infirmary, but here he is, running around . . ."

Sam didn't get the chance to get worked up any further. The sound of someone screaming out for help at a level of a few hundred decibels made her leap to her feet.

"What the . . ." Jack started to say as Loren raced into the room. The boy stopped in his tracks like he'd run into a brick wall. He was frozen with panic. Jack and Carter rushed over to him.

"Loren, what's wrong?" Jack asked, and quickly added, "Where's Daniel?"

"You have to come," the boy panted. "Daniel's . . ." His face twisted up and he started to cry.

Sam grabbed his arm. "What's wrong with Daniel?"

Loren was sobbing in earnest now. "I think he's d...dead."

Jack could feel Sam's eyes on him, but he didn't look her way. He took hold of Loren's shoulders and bent down to the boy's eye level. "Loren, calm down. Tell me where Daniel is."

Loren drew a shaky breath and said, "At the columns."

Jack had taken his first step towards the door when he realized he didn't have the first clue what that meant. "Where?"

"At the columns. Outside."

Sam and Jack glanced at each other, then looked back at Loren. In stereo, they exclaimed, "Outside?" Jack was already running, but not before he heard Carter tell Loren to stay where he was. Seconds later, she was right behind him, and he called over his shoulder, "You see these columns when we were out there before?"

"They're a couple of hundred yards past the outside gate."

Jack was about to ask what the hell Daniel would be doing all the way out there when they all knew they had to stay in close proximity to the gizmo in the light room, when he realized he'd be asking the wrong person. All he could do now was hope that Loren was mistaken, and he'd get the chance to yell at the right person in the very near future.

The building opened up onto a courtyard, which in turn led to an expanse of overgrown grass and small clumps of thick, stumpy bushes. Jack sprinted over the bigger ones, ran through the smaller ones, breathing hard -- the smell of the sea in his nose and the back of his throat. The beach was not very far away, over the top of a medium sized rise they fell away sharply on the other side. Two tall, weather-worn stone pillars stood on the summit. Jack picked up the pace when he spotted Daniel near the base of the column nearest them. Lying face down in the wet, sandy soil and weeds, completely still, with one arm bent up against the stone. Fearing the worst, Jack slowed down, almost to a trot. Carter ran past and dropped to her knees beside Daniel, putting a hand to his throat.

Jack walked the last few feet, eyes trained on Daniel's back, but he was damned if he could tell whether he was breathing or not. The light was fading fast, and the wind was blowing harder now, making the untucked end of Daniel's t-shirt ripple in the bitterly cold air. It was the only thing moving as far as Jack could tell. He crouched down next to Carter and waited.

"He's alive," Sam finally announced, her words coming out in small puffs of white vapor. But she wasn't looking very relieved. "Help me get him over."

Jack didn't need to be asked twice. He immediately leaned across and slipped one hand under Daniel's chest, and with his other hand on his back, carefully began to pull the unconscious man towards him, trying to make the transition as smooth as possible. Sam supported Daniel's head and shoulders as he turned, and Jack shifted backwards to make more room as his body rolled over.

Daniel's face came into view. It was plastered with a combination of dirt plus a few stray pieces of vegetation, and his bottom lip was split and bloody. Carter peeled a leaf from his cheek and then removed his glasses, placing them down next to her. The frame was bent out of shape and one of the lenses was cracked -- Daniel had obviously hit the ground hard.

Sam proceeded with her evaluation, prising one of Daniel's eyelids open to check the pupil. Jack observed in silence until he sensed someone behind him. He turned around and found that Loren had disobeyed Carter's direction to stay inside. Deja-vu. The boy was standing there, mortified, staring at a very dead looking Daniel lying on the ground.

"Loren, Daniel's not dead, you hear me? He's okay."

Carter made a little noise in her throat that immediately drew Jack's attention. She was taking Daniel's pulse again, and she whispered, loud enough for only Jack to hear, "He's not okay, sir. We need to get him inside, now." She shot him a hurried glance that said it all.

Jack quickly stood up and looked at Loren again. "Daniel's not going to wake up until we get him in near the light machine. We're going to have to carry him. You and Major Carter can take a leg each. Okay?"

Loren nodded and moved to a spot near Daniel's feet. Carter was there a second later, and as they both took a good hold around Daniel's calves, Jack crouched down and got his hands underneath Daniel's shoulders, hooking them under his arms. He looked down at Loren and Sam and said, "On three."

Loren stared back at him, mystified. Jack almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself just in time. Calmly he explained, "When I say three, we lift Daniel together. Understand?"

There was a smile and a nod from the boy. Jack started counting. "One, two . . ."

"Three."

Jack's knee screamed as he straightened up -- he was really going to have it seen to some day soon. Carter and Loren accomplished their part of the operation without a problem, and now were waiting for him give the go ahead. "Let's move."

As they began walking, Jack glanced down at Daniel. He was so deeply out that he was oblivious to the nasty angle his head was on as it lay against Jack's chest. And even though Jack would've liked to call Carter and Loren to a halt so he could get him into a more comfortable position, it wasn't going to happen. They weren't stopping for anything until they had Daniel safely inside.

It took more than a good five minutes to do that, and they were all in a sweat and breathing hard by the time they reached the gate room. They gladly lay Daniel on the floor, where Carter checked his vitals again.

"His pulse is stronger. I'm hoping it was just a matter of being too far away from the power source -- it wouldn't take much for him to pass out after all he's been through."

"He looked sick before we even went out there," Loren said quietly. "I shouldn't have told him about the columns." His bottom lip started to tremble.

Jack put his hand on Loren's shoulder. "Hey, it's not your fault. Anyway, Daniel will be waking up any minute now, isn't that right Carter?"

Sam didn't catch on to the fact that he was trying stop Loren blaming himself for yet another thing he wasn't responsible for. Actually, she seemed totally unaware that he'd spoken at all. She was feeling Daniel's face, then his bare arms, and she said, mostly to herself, "He's freezing, we have to warm him up . . ." she started to climb to her feet, but Jack put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down.

"Carter! Stay with him. I'll get whatever you need." He jumped up, intending to turn on the heating equipment as well as get some blankets. "He is going to be all right though, isn't he?"

Sam stared up at him and said, "I don't know. I wish Janet was here."

* * * * *

"Colonel, I can't guarantee I'd be able to get it started up again, and even if I did, we'd be running the risk of exposing the entire facility to something we know very little about . . . other than the fact it's completely addictive, and withdrawal causes dangerous variations in human brain function."

"And what if Daniel doesn't wake up? Are we just going to sit around and do nothing? Hammond's already told us he won't authorize Fraiser to come through."

"So what makes you think he'd let us take the device back? Look, I'm worried too, but you heard Janet. There's nothing more she could do for Daniel back on Earth that we're not already doing here."

The words buzzed around Daniel's aching head, along with another noise that wouldn't let up. A continuous chugga-chugging which could quite possibly be his brain banging against the confines of his skull, getting ready to explode . . . or not. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere behind him, not inside him, and it certainly wasn't loud enough to have caused him to wake. No, there were a lot of other things going on which had done that, and none of them were pleasant. Apart from feeling unbearably hot, Daniel's throat was raw, which he found out when he tried to swallow, his arm was paining, and . . . he ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. Ouch. Swollen, very sore, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Great. Looked like that truck had really caught up with him this time. He half opened his eyes to muted light, and the low tone of Jack's voice.

"I'm just saying it's an option we shouldn't rule out. Agreed?"

Everything was out of focus. The only thing Daniel could see properly was a lantern on the floor next to him, basically because it was only a couple of feet away, and the fact he was lying on one of the low fold-up beds that had come through the gate earlier. He gingerly cleared his throat, and trying not to move his bottom lip anymore than was absolutely necessary, mumbled, "What's an option, Jack?"

He closed his eyes again while he waited for an answer, since he couldn't really see all that much anyway, and it was making his head hurt more to keep them open. His left arm was starting to complain loudly too. Stinging, to be more precise, but when he went to lift it, it wouldn't bend.

Daniel blinked his eyes open again when he felt a cool hand on his forehead. A blurry Sam was hovering above him.

"Hey, you're awake. How do you feel?"

Right now, Daniel was more concerned with finding out what was wrong with his arm than acknowledging a question, that if he looked anywhere near as bad as he felt, had a pretty obvious answer. If he could lift his arm up, he might be able to see what the problem was, but the whole limb was stiff and heavy, it certainly didn't want to move . . . he fumbled his right hand across his body to feel if it was still attached properly. Jack's face promptly appeared in his field of vision.

"Hey, don't go playing with that. It took ages to get that needle stuck in the right place."

Daniel rolled his eyes downwards. Getting his head to move off the mattress seemed like too much hard work for now. The first thing he saw were the two sleeping bags spread over the top of him, and considering it felt like he was half done up in another one underneath, it was little wonder he felt so hot. Next he looked sideways. Jack was kneeling by his left arm, which was lying straight down along his side. To add to his complete confusion, he could see that it was taped in a couple of places to some sort of splint. And just as Jack had said, there was a large needle, with tubing attached, inserted in the crook of his elbow. The plastic tube trailed up behind him, and when he finally got his head to move, he could see, if he squinted, an almost empty bag of clear liquid hanging on what appeared to be a shorter version of an infirmary I.V. pole. There was a machine back there as well, sitting on top of a crate that had been turned upside down. Heart monitor at a guess, because he could feel wires and things stuck to his chest in a few different places. That explained the chug-chug noise -- they'd fired up the generator to power all the equipment.

He rubbed his free hand across his face, then looked at Sam. "What's going on?"

"You collapsed outside. We had to start a drip when we got you back here. You were hypotensive and mildly hypothermic."

Jack nodded his agreement. "Yep, all the hypos. Fraiser had to give long distance lessons on how to start an I.V. Piece of cake, really." He was smiling at his comment, but the grin faded a little as he asked, "You okay?"

"I will be." Daniel went to pull the pile of sleeping bags off before he spontaneously combusted, but once again, Jack grabbed hold of his hand.

"Hypothermic, Daniel. It means really, really cold."

"Actually sir," Sam's hand had been on the bed next to Daniel. Now she ran it up

along his shoulder and neck, finishing with her fingers resting against the stubble of his cheek. "He feels a lot warmer. It probably wouldn't hurt to take some of this off." She pulled the two top layers of bedding away and smiled down at him. "Better?"

Now only encased in the one sleeping bag zippered up to just above his waist, Daniel grunted out a thank you and decided he wanted to sit up. Bad choice, because he scored a major case of the head spins for his trouble before he was half way there. He squeezed his eyes closed and steadied himself by planting his right hand on the mattress behind him. An arm went round his back at the same time. Someone was making sure he didn't topple sideways off the bed.

"You sure you want to be up here with us healthy people?"

Still waiting for the dizziness to pass, Daniel didn't really care what Jack was saying. The only response he could manage was, "Whuh?"

"I don't think Daniel should be sitting up, sir."

"Really? Tell him that."

Daniel drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. Jack was up on one knee supporting him, and still nursing the splinted arm in the other hand. Sam, meanwhile, had both her hands firmly attached to his right arm. It was hard to decide which was worse. Being smothered to death by all the help, or being left alone to fend for himself like last time. A happy medium seemed too much to wish for.

"I'm okay," he lied. "What's wrong with my arm?"

Sam, frowning hard, got up and moved around to join Jack, who held Daniel's arm up higher for inspection. "Is it hurting?" she asked.

Keeping his movements and words to a bare minimum, Daniel shook his head fractionally for no. "Why the splint?"

Jack raised his eyebrows at Sam and said, "Carter had a bit of trouble sticking the needle in your wrist . . ."

Sam fired a withering look back at Jack. "We had a bit of trouble putting the needle in your wrist, that's why it's up here," she indicated the spot where it was lodged and taped into a large vein in the crease of Daniel's elbow. "If you bend your arm you could damage the vein, so we had to immobilize the whole thing."

Daniel was thinking it was lucky he'd been unconscious at the time. "Okay . . . but it can all come off now, right?"

Carter looked apologetic. "Janet wants another liter run through when this one's finished. Your blood pressure's still very low. That's why you should be lying down."

Actually, being horizontal sounded pretty good to Daniel. He'd been waiting for the light-headedness to pass, but as yet, it hadn't. "Yeah. Okay." The concerned look being traded between his team mates didn't go unnoticed. Rather than ignore it, he added, "I'm tired, that's all."

"You sure that's all?" Jack was helping him get settled again, pulling the open edge of the sleeping bag across his chest, and then further up towards his shoulder.

Daniel opted not to say what he was thinking. "Feel better already."

"Good. Carter, you dial up Fraiser and tell her our patient's awake. I'll re-heat his dinner."

Dinner. Daniel's stomach rolled at the prospect of eating anything, let alone an MRE. Then he realized he'd be eating military issue food exclusively for the next three weeks and the thought of throwing up took a step closer to becoming reality. He closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his stomach contents where they belonged.

"Everything okay?" Jack's voice seemed to come from a distance.

Daniel's didn't dare open his mouth to answer. "Mmmmm."

"Yeah? Funny, you look like you're about to puke all over yourself."

Daniel smiled ruefully. Who'd have thought Jack would have such a cheery bedside manner? His brain was having a hard time dealing with the concept of Colonel O'Neill : nurse-maid, and he was dreading the thought of putting up with it for any length of time. But knowing Jack, the novelty would wear off soon, and he'd be left to feel like crap in peace.

"Don't worry about it. The food, I mean. I'll have something in the morning.

What time is it anyway?"

"Here? About four hours to sunrise." Daniel cracked open an eye and saw Jack pulling the sleeve of his jacket back to read his watch. "Almost o-nine-hundred Earth time. Which means you should be eating."

Please God, Daniel thought, let the novelty wear off very soon. "Where's Loren?"

"He's asleep. Why?"

The sound of the opening gate disrupted the conversation for a moment. Daniel waited until relative peace was restored, then explained, "I think I scared him when I passed out."

Jack favored him with a humorless smile. "You did. Tell me Daniel, does this mean you're not even following your own advice now? After all, you're the one who told us we had to hang around that machine in there. It's freezing outside, and you go wandering around sight-seeing, in short sleeves for chrissakes . . . "

Daniel tuned himself out as Jack's voice droned on and on. The mothering was bad enough. Getting hauled over the coals for doing something incredibly stupid was a definite no go. Daniel knew he shouldn't have gone out there .. . well he knew that now, anyway. Back then it hadn't entered his mind that a little field trip could quite possibly be lethal. There was no way to justify his actions -- other than saying he just wasn't thinking.

Like he really wanted to admit that to Jack.

"Daniel?"

Jack was staring at him with an expression that said he didn't much care for being ignored. Time for damage control. The last thing Daniel had vaguely heard, before his attention went wandering, was being asked whether there was a sane reason he'd gone outside, so he figured he'd just answer truthfully and hope for the best.

"No."

"No?"

"No, there's no sane reason why I went out there."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I already know that. Want I want to know is what the stuff on the poles said."

"Oh." Daniel blinked in surprise. "It was . . . . . .

. . . Death to fools who venture beyond . . .

Daniel remembered standing in front of the columns, Loren watching intently as he ran his hands over the inscriptions, tracing each symbol, because years of weathering had made the script almost impossible to read. The columns themselves were more than the run of the mill Goa'uld proclamations of omnipotence and such-like, they had also served as a deterrent to slaves contemplating a bid for freedom. Because of the erosion, it had taken an extra long time to translate what amounted to a 'if you're out here and you're not a God or a Jaffa, then you'll die' notice -- warning those who strayed that the invisible wrath of the Gods would strike them down, when the truth of the matter was the light room was keeping the slaves alive, up to a certain distance anyway. That was about the time the thought crossed Daniel's mind that since he was neither Jaffa or Gou'ald, it probably wasn't very wise to be outside. Along with that brainwave came the sudden intrusion of the elements upon his senses. The freezing cold, the dying light, and the fact he wasn't feeling so good. Dizzy, sick to his stomach. He realized then that he was about to pass out. Which is what he most certainly did.

He looked at Jack, and finally got around to finishing his sentence. "Nothing really."

Jacks' eyes narrowed. "Nothing."

Suddenly Daniel didn't feel like talking. Especially about subject matter that would be sure to make Jack yell.

Here we go. Round five thousand and fifty two.

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat, wincing because it felt completely raw, and said, "Look Jack, it was stupid to go out there, okay? I admit it. So I'm stupid. It's not like I have a death wish or anything . . ."

Daniel stopped short at the look on Jack's face. "What?"

Jack didn't answer, just continued to stare silently at him like . . . Daniel couldn't quite label the expression, because he'd never seen anything close to it on Jack O'Neill's face before. He didn't get the chance to say anything else either, because Sam was heading towards them, dragging some piece of medical machinery on wheels behind her.

"Janet wants a new set of vitals." She pulled what Daniel now saw was an automatic blood pressure reader up beside him and began wrapping the attached cuff around his arm. Checking that it was secure, she glanced up at Daniel's face, then across at Jack, then back at Daniel again. "I miss something?"

"Nothing." Jack stood, picked up one of the discarded sleeping bags, and started walking away. "I'm going to get some shut eye." Without uttering another word, he continued straight past the other two beds, clicking on his flashlight as he moved off into the darkness.

Sam looked to Daniel for some sort of explanation. When all he could do was shrug, she called out, "Where, exactly?"

Jack's voice floated back from the corridor. "If you need me, use the radio."

"Ooookay." Sam sighed, then thrust a thermometer in front of Daniel's face. "Put this under your tongue."

Silently obliging, Daniel opened his mouth, and around a mouth full of glass tube, managed to ask, "What's with him?"

The band on his arm slowly inflated. Sam's eyes were on the monitor, but she answered softly, "He's been worried, Daniel. We both have. And he's exhausted."

A moment of silence passed, time for Daniel to ponder Sam's words, before she removed the thermometer from his mouth. "Good, you're a lot warmer. Pressure's on the way up too." She pressed the send switch on her radio. "Janet? B.P's ninety over seventy, and temp's ninety seven point seven. You need O2 levels or another electrocardiogram run off?"

Fraiser's voice came through. "No, you can disconnect the EKG for now. Everything seems okay, but be sure to keep a close eye on him. Check his vitals every hour. I'll be catching up on sleep in my quarters. If anything's worrying you, have them wake me immediately. Otherwise, I'll be in contact at thirteen hundred hours. Please let Dr Jackson know I'm glad he's feeling better, and that I'll have a few questions for him then. Over."

Daniel winced at the doctor's frosty tone. More hauling over the coals to look forward to.

Sam gave Daniel a sympathetic smile, then replied, "Will do. Go easy on him, Janet. Over."

Daniel watched as Sam unwound the black blood pressure sleeve from his arm and hung it on the machine. "You going to get some sleep as well?"

"No, it's my watch."

"I'm awake. I'll do it."

Sam chuckled softly. "The watch is on you, Daniel, not the perimeter. The colonel's been sitting here all night, I only woke up about twenty minutes ago."

Pushing his embarrassment aside, Daniel was beginning to understand Jack's out-of-character behavior. "Okay, sleep deprivation would explain Jack's mood. So, I'll apologize for my stupidity again when he gets back."

Sam smiled a sad looking little smile. Before it faded she reached out and ran her hand softly across his forehead and through his hair. "He's not angry with you Daniel, believe me. I think what happened really shook him. He needs time and space to get over it."

Oh, Daniel thought. He had the gall to accuse Jack of being insensitive most of the time, yet here he was, ignorant to the fact that SG5's loss might be hitting Jack just as hard as it was hitting him. Talk about being stupid . . . "Guess I'll have to apologize for that too," he muttered.

"Daniel, you have nothing to apologize for. You weren't responsible for your actions, and neither were SG5. The depression, the suicide attempts, they were simply rote responses in the brain, brought on by the chemical imbalances of withdrawal."

It took a few seconds for Daniel to be sure he'd heard what he heard. But even then he didn't believe his ears. "Say that again?"

His confusion seemed to cause Sam some concern. She leaned closer, staring into his eyes. "You do remember discussing this with me before, don't you?"

"You mean back in the light room? Yes, I remember that. We threw around a few ideas about the whole withdrawal thing, but I definitely don't remember you mentioning anything about suicide . . ."

Sam's eyes went wide, and she uttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like a couple of swear words. "You don't remember."

His heart beating faster, Daniel asked, "What are you talking about, Sam?"

After what seemed an eternity, Sam blew out a breath and said, "You know that Barber committed suicide . . ." She quizzed him with a look, seeking confirmation.

"He ran into the unstable wormhole when you were about to come join me and the rest of SG5 here on P4X347," Daniel answered dutifully.

"Okay, do you know that the rest of SG5 tried to kill themselves as well? Yesterday morning?"

Strangely numb, Daniel had trouble getting his mouth around what he wanted to say. "Janet told me they died, I assumed they fell into a coma like I did . . ." The shock gave way to a different feeling. A very sick feeling, and judging by the expression on Sam's face, one that was well founded. "You're telling me I tried to do the same thing?" He couldn't quite bring himself to say 'commit suicide'.

Sam grimaced, her face pale in the reflected lamp light.

"When?" he asked, then realized that wasn't what he needed to know. "How?"

"When you didn't report for duty yesterday, I called you. You picked up, I thought I could hear you on the other end of the line, but you wouldn't say anything. Then the connection went dead. I redialed, and all I got was a busy signal. General Hammond was fuming about the mission being delayed, so the colonel volunteered to go wake you up properly." Sam bit her lip, and there was a tiny tremble in her voice. "We all thought you'd just gone back to sleep . . . none of us made the connection to Barber, not then, anyway."

"Janet said he brought me back to the infirmary. I don't remember --" Daniel hesitated, and Sam continued.

"Just after the colonel left, Williams came into the Gateroom, rambling over and over again about having to leave. I tried to talk to him, but he just pushed me out of the way and made a grab for Teal'c's staff weapon. Before we could get him pinned down, he pulled out his own gun and tried to shoot himself." Sam shook her head, as though she still had trouble believing it. "Lamont was found locked in his car about the same time all that was happening, with a hose running from the exhaust to the back window, and Alonzo . . . Daniel, are you all right?"

Daniel forced himself to take a breath, then another. He met Sam's eyes and said, "I don't know. God . . . what happened at my apartment?"

"You'll have to ask the colonel about it. All I know is that he called Janet, and she told us you'd tried to kill yourself too. At that stage we began to suspect it was some sort of disease specific to 347 -- given that all the rest of SG5 were in the infirmary, already comatose. Colonel O'Neill brought you back to base straight away, but by then you were really sick, basically unconscious."

"Jack didn't say anything to you about what happened?"

Sam shook her head and looked away, suddenly interested in the IV bag on the pole behind him. "This is almost empty. I may as well hang a new one now, then you can go back to sleep."

The likelihood of that happening was extremely remote. Daniel was already replaying the events of the last few days in his mind, determined to make himself remember. But after the big argument with Jack, there was nothing. Just a great, gaping hole where apparently, a lot of bad things had happened. Daniel put his arm up over his eyes, blocking out everything as he tried to unearth a memory that he knew must be there, somewhere.

Desperate to find it, dreading that he would.

* * * * *

Jack wasn't sure where he was going, and he wasn't entirely sure why he was going either. He just kept trudging along, one foot in front of the other, a small circle of light leading the way. The tiredness he'd experienced earlier was nothing compared to the way he felt now. His feet were dragging, the flashlight in his hand weighed about a ton, and his bad knee was throbbing cruelly. Not to mention his eyeballs felt like they'd been scoured with a wire brush and then turned inside out.

All he had to do was find somewhere other than the floor to collapse on and he wouldn't move for what little remained of the night. Easy. There hadn't been an opportunity to search any rooms in this part of the building before, apart from Loren's, but Jack remembered seeing plenty of other doorways further down this section of passageway. Which meant he simply had to pick one, go through it, and hope that the inside didn't smell like it hadn't seen the light of day for a couple of hundred years. That kinda smell was hard to get used to. Rotten and stale, it always conjured up images of all things rotten and decayed. The smell of tombs, and death . . .

Jack stopped, hitched the sleeping bag a little higher up on his shoulder. Maybe what he really needed was some fresh air. Suddenly certain of where he wanted to be, he turned around and started walking again.

A minute or so later he was standing on top of the small flight of stairs that overlooked the outside courtyard. There was no wind now, the night air was completely still and probably about another five degrees lower than it had been before. Not that a few degrees made much difference when it was this cold.

Lucky he wasn't a brass monkey . . .

Jack lowered himself to sit on the highest step, turned the flashlight off and put it down beside him. He threw the sleeping bag around his shoulders and pulled it in nice and tight, making sure his ears were covered. Satisfied that he wasn't risking any body parts to frostbite, he made himself comfortable and settled in to stare out into the darkness.

The sky was black and huge. There were no moons, and the scattering of stars unobscured by high cloud were cold and distant.

Which suited his mood to a tee.

Not very long ago he'd been feeling on top of the world. Total relief would do that to you, especially when you'd had to wait an extra long time for it to show up. But now, thanks to a throw away comment from Daniel, the relief high was gone, replaced by a head crammed full of questions that all began with what-if, or why-didn't-I. When Daniel had casually said he didn't have a death wish, Jack was instantly out there on that damn balcony again. Only this time he'd arrived a minute later, and he was out there alone. Daniel had jumped.

God, he could handle a cigarette right now. There was something about dragging in a deep lungful of tar and nicotine, slowly exhaling and watching the even flow of blue-grey smoke that was almost hypnotic. It could settle your thoughts. Sometimes, if you got lucky, it could stop them altogether.

You don't even know what I'm talking about.

Daniel's words, coming back to torment him. And what was his brilliant reply? No, I don't, and by the way, why don't you come inside?

He'd been lying. To Daniel and himself. Jack knew exactly what Daniel had meant, because he'd been there himself. Suspended in a space that was a second away from death, a million miles away from life, his gun jammed hard against his forehead. Desperately searching for a reason, just one reason, to go on living.

Daniel had postponed, and eventually erased that fate for him. By translating the cartouche, he'd set in motion a string of events and circumstances that opened up a whole new universe.

Literally. He'd created a completely new destiny for Jack, and while he was at it, the entire human race. All that had saved Daniel from a different dose of the same fate was blind luck and good timing. If Jack had stayed any longer behind that old geezer coming down the mountain, actually waited for broken lines to overtake, or if he'd missed the elevator the first time around and been forced to stand there till it came all the way down again . . . shit, when you really thought about it, even stopping at a couple of extra floors would've been enough to do it .

And damned if another lovely picture didn't just decide to pop into his head. Jack dropped his face down towards the hand that was holding the sleeping bag closed and pressed a knuckle hard into his forehead, but the sickening image wouldn't go away. He could see himself, standing among a silent crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk outside Daniel's apartment. Everyone, including him, was staring down. Lying there, blood running from his mouth and ears, pooling underneath his caved-in head, was Daniel. Dead eyes open, staring back at them . . .

At him . . .

"Can't you sleep?"

Jack's hand was on his sidearm before his brain could process the sound as non-threatening. He let go of the pistol grip and reached for the flashlight instead, turning it on as he aimed it back at the doorway. "Loren. What the . . ."

He cut himself off before the swear word had a chance to come out. Made himself smile. It wasn't all that difficult, really. After they'd got Daniel stabilized and he'd had a spare minute to think, Jack had seen Loren shivering, and finally registered that the clothes he wore were pretty thread-bare. So he'd given the kid a spare uniform as well as a few blankets, fed him a quick meal of macaroni cheese, and then sent him off to bed, with repeated assurances that Daniel would be fine. Loren had one of those blankets loosely wrapped around him now, and from what Jack could see when he moved the beam of light downwards, the BDU's were on underneath. The uniform, of course, was several sizes too big, and Loren was standing there with a good six inches of trousers trailing on the ground behind him.

Another thing to explain to the boy . . . the art of rolling up excess sleeves and trouser legs. Which could definitely wait for some other time. At the moment, Jack didn't want company, especially the twenty questions kind of company that Loren was fast becoming.

Pointing the flashlight higher, Jack asked, none too friendly, "What are you doing out here?"

"You woke me up, walking up and down the corridor."

Jack scowled. "I wasn't walking up and down the corridor. I just changed my mind on where I wanted to go, that's all."

"Why'd you want to come out here?" Loren stifled a yawn and clutched the blanket tighter. His teeth were beginning to chatter.

"Oh for crying out loud," Jack muttered under his breath. He waved Loren over. "Come here."

He waited until the kid was sitting down next to him, then took the sleeping bag from his shoulders and covered him with it. "You trying to turn yourself into a popsicle, or what?"

There was that mystified look again.

"A popsicle. Sorta like an ice cream, but different."

Loren was still staring, so Jack patted him on the shoulder. "Never mind. You're going back inside in about thirty seconds anyway."

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Loren nodded wearily. "Has Daniel woken up yet?"

Despite having an unwelcome guest, and feeling very cold again, Jack found himself smiling. "Yep, he has."

Loren's face lit up as well. "He's not sick anymore?"

"Well, he's better than he was before," Jack replied. "We just have to make sure he gets a lot of rest over the next couple of weeks. The bad news is, Daniel doesn't do the whole rest thing very well, so we've got our work cut out for us."

"I won't show him any more stuff," Loren said solemnly. "Promise."

Jack looked straight into the boy's eyes and said, "Not your fault, Loren, remember?"

It was a few seconds before there was any kind of response. And then it was only a small nod which hinted there was a lot more convincing to be done on that front yet.

Jack gently patted Loren on the back again. "Just don't mention those honkin' big sphinx things down on the beach and I'll be happy."

"You mean the statues? Daniel already knows about them," Loren admitted. "He saw them when we were up on the bluff."

"Sweet. I'll have some leg irons sent through asap." Before Loren could ask what he meant, Jack quickly added, "Kidding. I'm kidding."

"Kidding?"

Shit. He was having a conversation with the miniature version of Teal'c. The Teal'c from a couple of years ago, anyway. "Don't worry about it. I'll have Teal'c explain the whole concept of humor to you when we see him again. He's a very funny guy."

"He is?" Loren looked sideways with a 'are you for real?' kind of expression, which had Jack working hard to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, he's a regular Eddie Murphy." He quickly pointed a finger at Loren. "And don't ask me who Eddie Murphy is, okay?"

Loren smiled. He looked confused, but happy. "Okay."

The two sat in companionable silence for another moment or two. Jack was just about to suggest going inside when Loren spoke again.

"It's weird. I feel bad about the others, but I'm really happy at the same time." He shifted a little under the sleeping bag, then looked squarely at Jack. "Happy Daniel didn't die like them."

This time it took Jack forever to respond, and he was surprised by the thickness of his voice when he did. "Me too, Loren. Me too."

The kid was staring again. "Is Daniel your son or something?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up with very little help from his brain. He quickly changed their direction, moulding his expression into a frown. "Nooooo. Do I look that old?"

Obviously Loren had never heard of a rhetorical question, because he leaned a little closer and began to examine Jack's face. "I dunno. Maybe. So, he's your brother then?"

Jack, trying to come to grips with the 'maybe' comment, was about to ask Loren just how old he thought he was, but wisely decided against it. "You know, Daniel's only a couple of years younger than me . . ." it was probably fairly safe to stretch the truth a little, or even a lot.

Now Loren's eyebrows were on the way up. Jack pretended not to notice. "And no, we are not brothers.

What gave you that idea?"

"You were really worried about him. Scared that he might be dying."

Jack maintained eye contact with the boy as he answered. "The four of us work together. Carter, Teal'c,

Daniel, me. I'm the C.O. Part of my job is to make sure the others are safe."

"The seeoh?"

"Commanding officer, in charge. The head honcho."

Loren seemed to weigh that up for an awfully long time before declaring, "I feel safe with you around. I haven't felt like that for ages."

"No, I guess you haven't," Jack answered softly. He took hold of Loren's shoulder through the sleeping bag and squeezed gently. "But all that's changed now, you understand? In a couple of weeks you're coming back home to Earth with us."

"I know." Loren cast his eyes downward. "I've been thinking about it." He peered up from the corner of one eye and asked, "What if I don't like Earth?"

"Oh, you'll like it. As well as ice cream, we have dogs," Jack grinned. "Now go inside before you freeze solid."

"You coming in too?"

"Nah . . . I'm gonna sit out here and do a bit more thinking."

"Do you have to be alone to think?"

Jack stared up into the sky again. "It helps."

"Do you have to be cold too?"

Redirecting his gaze straight away, Jack looked at the boy and said, "What are you talk . . ." He stopped abruptly. Loren was grinning cheekily at him.

"You can use my parents room if you want. It's warmer, and there's a big bed they used to sleep in when we first got here, before things . . . changed. I go there a lot, to think." The grin slowly turned into a sad smile.

"To remember," Jack said.

Loren shook his head slowly. "I wish they'd never found that light and turned it on, I wish we'd never come here." His voice was brimming with tears that were only just being held at bay, and although Jack wanted to ask him more about what had happened back then, he was suddenly struck by the boy's vulnerability, and the fact that he'd lasted here, on his own, for God knows how long. Considering those skeletons had to have been buried in the sand for at least a year, maybe more.

"You can't change the past Loren, you just have to find a way to live with it." Jack paused, recognizing the irony in his statement. He should start taking his own advice. Yes, Daniel had almost died. Again. And he hadn't done a whole helluva lot to stop it. Again. But who said Jack O'Neill couldn't learn from his mistakes? Even if he had to repeat a class or two . . .

Jack smiled a little as he continued. "I think you've done that by taking care of yourself, doing what you had to do to survive here all on your own. Your parents would be very proud of you."

A tear rolled down Loren's cheek as he nodded. Jack smudged it away with his thumb.

"And thanks for the offer, but your parent's room really should stay your own special place. I'm going back to the gate room, anyway." He stood up stiffly and extended a hand to the boy. "Camp cots aren't that comfortable, but there's an extra one I can set up for you if you want."

"Really?"

"Really. As long as you help Carter cook breakfast."

Loren grabbed the offered hand, smiling widely as Jack pulled him to his feet.

* * * * *

This planet was a stinker. Hot and sticky, and more importantly, devoid of anything in the least bit interesting, cultural, historical, or otherwise. No scenery to look at, even if you could take a minute to stop and glance around without Jack hollering, "Keep it moving, daylight's burning!" Which, whilst being very annoying, was actually very accurate when you thought about it.

What daylight there was to speak of had immense difficulty filtering through the thick canopy of trees above, but every here and there, a column of steamy light would break through to penetrate the leafy barrier. The emanating heat made Daniel grateful for the overhead protection, even as the sweat pouring out of him made him feel like he was swimming inside his uniform.

Welcome to Sauna World, hope you don't enjoy your stay.

From some distance ahead, above the sound of a machete hacking rhythmically through the dense undergrowth, Jack's voice echoed, "Keep it moving, Daniel!"

"Daylight's burning," Daniel mouthed in sync with Jack's next line. He shouted back,

"Heard that one before, Jack. How about yelling something . . . urrrkk." A very undignified noise came from his throat as his foot sunk into the suddenly unsolid earth. Looking down, Daniel saw the rest of his leg quickly following it, so he went to back up, only to discover his other foot doing the same thing, and . . . oh shit . . . he could definitely be in big trouble here. Grabbing onto something would be the thing to do, and if he could find something to grab onto, he would. He lunged at one of the ferny looking plants to his right, it promptly came out of the ground, roots still attached, which indicated it wasn't really in ground at all. Just sitting in more of the same stuff he was headed south in, at speed. The more he moved, the more he sank. He'd pulled out another four or five plants and was past mid-thigh in the muck before he could tell himself, and manage to listen, to stay completely still.

"Jack! Need some help here!"

"I'm here, Daniel."

Amazed by the instantaneous response, Daniel tore his eyes away from the sludge that was relentlessly drawing him downwards and turned to look over his left shoulder. There was Jack, standing only a few feet away, staring down at him intently.

"Jack, how . . ."

"Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."

Daniel could feel himself being dragged even further under. He flicked his eyes down. Only a few inches of his chest remained visible, the undersides of his arms were already touching the mud's surface. Stunned at the sight, he tried to lift them higher, only to sink another few inches.

"Whatever's wrong?" he stammered, wheezing as the sludge rolled higher towards his neck, squeezing the last bit of air from his chest and throat. "Can't you see,

Jack? I'm about to die!"

"No, no I don't. But come inside?"

The mud slithered up to Daniel's chin, icy cold and foul smelling, and he knew this was the end. He only had mere seconds left to live . . . Daniel tilted his head backwards and thrust his face up as far as it would go, gasping for breath as he desperately struggled to keep his nose and mouth from going under. With momentous effort he dragged one arm up and stretched it out behind him, reaching for . . .

"Jack?" he whispered.

Something bumped against his fingertips. Something hard and cold, smooth. Metallic?

Not knowing or caring what it was, Daniel grabbed on to it with all the strength left in his body and mind. It held firm, stopping his slide into the darkness.

"I'll hold onto you while you climb over."

Climb over? Something was seriously wrong here. Shouldn't Jack be saying climb out?

Daniel squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them slowly, to be overwhelmed by complete disorientation. He still had the horrible sensation of being pulled under, as though the mud was still trying to drag him down and smother him, except . . . it wasn't. The swamp was gone. Actually, everything was gone. He was standing upright on a tiny ledge that was suspended in thin air, he was still clutching onto his lifeline - only he had both hands around it now, and his arms were stretched out behind his back. There was a cold wind blowing in his face as he glanced backwards to find out exactly what it was that was keeping him from falling away into the emptiness. His fingers were wrapped around a metal railing that looked strangely familiar. Daniel couldn't begin to work out why. His body was trembling all over, he felt heavy and dizzy, and suddenly, he was falling . . .

He landed on his backside. His eyes flew open with the impact, and he found himself on the floor, his legs askew, one mostly on the bed with the covers twisted around it, the other bent crookedly underneath his body. He vaguely heard a voice coming from somewhere nearby.

"Shit! Daniel!"

Nowhere near coming to his senses, Daniel dragged his leg down from what he slowly realized was a portable cot. The still attached sleeping bag came with it. He was working on untangling it one-handed when someone dropped down to his knees on the floor beside him.

"God, Daniel. Are you all right?" Jack sounded a little breathless, his words were all rushed together.

Daniel kept fumbling at the sleeping bag with a shaky right hand. His left was of no use, stuck out stiffly next to him, and it took a few more seconds to remember why. He glanced sideways, saw the splint, then his eyes tracked up along the IV line, stopping when they came to the needle. The tape holding it in place was loose, and the needle was hanging almost half way out. He moved his hand towards it, intending to get rid of it once and for all.

Another hand was suddenly on top of his, stilling the movement.

"Shit," Jack hissed. "You're bleeding . . ." he yanked Daniel's hand further away. "Don't touch it. CARTER!"

The roaring of Sam's name brought Daniel a little more out of his trance. He looked up, sluggishly registering the concern on Jack's face, and said, "S'okay," even though things were nowhere close to being okay. A second ago there'd been nothing around him except a whole lot of empty air, followed closely by the terrifying feeling of falling through it, fully expecting to die. It had been so real. The jungle planet, the swamp, were fading away, the sweat cooling on his body and a certain tightness in his chest the only reminders of that portion of his nightmare. But the rest of it? A huge shiver rolled up through his body. Was it a dream, or something else? His gut was telling him it was definitely something else, possibly part of the memory he so badly wanted to reclaim. He stared through Jack as scattered images teased from the far recesses of his mind.

A wooden handle. His hand, pushing it down. A glass door -- his loungeroom door -- opening inwards. The balcony there in front of him, the sky beyond it. Clear and blue, beckoning . . .

"Daniel!"

Fingers were digging into his upper arms, shaking him, making his head wobble back and forth on his shoulders. When the movement stopped, Daniel refocused and saw Jack's face even closer, mere inches from his own. His gaze was intense, and he was saying something. Daniel only caught the last few words.

" . . . where you are?"

Daniel raised his hand, not at all surprised to see it was still trembling. He wanted to tell Jack to leave him alone, that he was all right, that he just needed to think for a minute. There was something there, right in the front of his brain, like a word stuck on the tip of his tongue. The more he reached for it, the more it eluded him. But it took all he had just to mumble, "Give me a second." His voice sounded weird, didn't much sound like him at all. His mouth was all fuzzy, and his bottom lip was stretched painfully tight, on the verge of splitting open again.

Jack eased his grip, but didn't let go. "We're offworld, remember? Loren's planet."

Daniel knew that much. He also knew, from the weak sunlight trickling through the window above him, that it was early morning. He must have fallen asleep sometime after Sam last checked on him, which seemed like only minutes ago. Fumbling his right hand up to his face, he carefully ran his fingers over his sore mouth and took a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen would help clear his head. Before he could get his thoughts into any kind of order, Sam ran into the room, coming towards them at a sprint. She skirted around the bottom of the bed, then crouched down next to him.

"What happened?" She was already holding his arm, pulling the loose tape away, and pressing down gently on the needle to ease it back in place.

Jack answered, in the usual fashion. "Take a wild guess. He fell on his ass."

"Daniel?" Sam put one hand underneath his chin, turning his face till he was looking straight at her. "Were you dizzy again? Did you pass out, can you remember?"

Remembering was all Daniel wanted to do, but it was no use trying now amid all the commotion. Reluctantly pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind, where he could pull them apart later, Daniel forced himself to concentrate on his present predicament. He knew that if ever wanted to get any time to himself in the near future, he'd have to sound as close to normal as possible.

"I'm fine. I rolled over and I was on the floor." As he cleared his throat, a good excuse came to mind. "These cots aren't designed for anyone over five feet tall."

Jack looked marginally relieved, but Sam was a harder convert -- she didn't seem convinced at all. She cupped his cheek in her hand and commented, "You feel all hot and clammy." The back of her other hand went straight up to his forehead. "I think you're running a temperature."

"I said, I'm fine." Daniel pulled away from the unwanted attention, and the jerking movement caused the IV needle to rip out completely. His arm stung sharply in response and he instinctively tried to move it towards his body, forgetting, once again, that it wouldn't bend. He let fly with a loud, "Owww . . . SHIT!", and his temper took total control. Pulling furiously at the bindings on his arm, he ripped one loop apart, prised the splint free and tossed it away in a single action. As it landed on the floor on the far side of the bed, he hugged his arm to his stomach. "Maybe if you both back off for one goddamned second . . . "

Crap . . . he'd lost the plot somewhere along the line there. A shocked looking Sam was flinching away from his maniacal outburst, but not so Jack. He was leaning closer, head tilted slightly forward, one eyebrow raised.

"Daniel?"

Jack had a lot of ways of saying his name, all teamed with varying body language, and each had a completely different meaning. This combination usually translated to 'what the fuck was that?'

Daniel wanted to know too -- just what the fuck was going on inside his head right now? He felt incredibly angry, pissed that he couldn't remember something he should be able to remember, and he was taking his frustration out on everyone around him.

He had to let it go. For now.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help, but honestly, I'm okay." Two sets of eyes were now staring at him in disbelief, so he went on, "I guess I was a little disorientated. I . . . "

Not at all sure what he was going to say next, Daniel paused. He'd had some sort of flashback, he was sure of that now, but he couldn't tell Jack and Sam that, because then there'd be questions. Lots of questions that he didn't know how to answer just yet.

"I had a nightmare."

Sam gave a tiny nod and rubbed her hand along his shoulder. "It's okay, you've got a few drugs running around your system too, you know. They'd be making you feel off kilter as well."

That was news to Daniel, and it must have shown, because Sam quickly explained, "Administered through the IV, to stabilize your blood pressure. Which reminds me, I

need to take your vitals again. Janet's due to check in any minute now."

Daniel shook his head. "You just took them. It can wait."

Sam frowned and gave an uncertain little smile. "You been asleep for the past three hours, Daniel. And the last time I checked on you was well over an hour ago."

Jack immediately added, "So it can't wait."

Just as quickly, Daniel answered, "It can, because I have to go." He put a hand on Jack's shoulder and started to get up, only to have Jack push him down again.

"You're not going anywhere."

Jack was using his best don't argue with your commanding officer tone, the one that irritated Daniel no end, and more often than not produced the opposite effect than the one intended. Turning away from Sam, he glared at Jack and said through a clenched jaw, "I need to go. So let me go, so I can go somewhere else besides my pants." Somehow he managed not to raise his voice, since he wanted to keep the matter solely between himself and Jack if at all possible.

Jack replied, loud enough to be heard back on Earth. "Ohhhh, you have to go, go. You should have said."

Sam give a little cough and quickly moved away, mumbling something about having to finish what she'd been doing. As she scurried over towards the Stargate, Jack called out, even louder, "We're going to the little boy's room. Back in five."

Daniel gave a pained smile and a sigh, then went to climb to his feet for a second time.

Jack slipped an arm around his back in support, which was lucky, because there was every chance he would have fallen straight back down without it. The leg he'd been sitting on had turned numb, and the room - along with his stomach - did one long, slow roll as he rose. Before he thought about taking a first step he rotated his foot and wiggled his toes, urging the circulation to return, and the vertigo to disappear. He also mumbled a thank you in Jack's direction, and felt him respond by taking a tighter grip of his arm.

"I've been watering the bushes outside, but Carter's set up toilet facilities in the next room. Think you can walk that far?"

Feeling a little less zoned, Daniel opened his eyes fully, and stared. "You do know there are bathrooms here, don't you Jack? Two that I've seen, both with hot running water."

Still hanging onto Daniel's arm, Jack looked happily stunned. "Hot. Running. Water. You're kidding, right?"

Remembering once again how pleased he'd been when he'd discovered the bathing rooms, his delight at the close resemblance to the balneums of ancient Rome with their colorful mosaic floors and high, mirrored walls, Daniel almost launched into a lengthy description of their design and the mechanics of the heating system -- basically a variation on the Roman theme; utilizing a rain-water reservoir that drained through heated pipes. He promptly shut his mouth, stopping himself before he could get started. Sometimes his near pathological need to explain bothered him as much as it bothered Jack, especially at times like this, when he was having all the trouble in the world just standing, let alone doing anything else. He felt like shit, and Jack wouldn't give a shit, so all he said was, "No, I'm not kidding. There's a power source around here somewhere . . . I'm guessing naquada . . . "

Jack smiled and said, "Which, as well as giving Carter something to play with over the next few weeks, will also make a lot of people back home extremely happy." His grin grew even wider. "And we'll all smell nice in the meantime. Gotta be happy with that."

* * * * *

Obviously Daniel was still feeling well below par, Jack decided. Several things pointed to that conclusion, far from least being the way he actually looked -- his face a little too flushed and glistening with a thin coat of sweat, his mouth puffed up like a boxer who'd kissed the canvas a few too many times, and he was shivering. Every now and again his whole body would join in and give one big shudder.

Then there were all the other clues.

He'd silently accepted the hand up from the floor, put on his jacket without an argument, and allowed Jack to keep hold of his arm as they walked to the temporary bathroom next door. And there lay the absolute clincher. Daniel had told him about the bathrooms that were already here, but that was it. He hadn't offered one word of explanation about the significance of their design or cultural influence, or even insisted on going there straight away to show Jack just how very interesting it all was, either. Which all added up to one sick and sorry scientist, one who didn't want to be on his feet any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Jack was happy to make sure he wouldn't have to be. Taking the shortest route possible, he steered Daniel out into the corridor and then through the adjacent doorway. The interior of the room was still quite dark, but there was enough light coming through the small, slitted window to negate the need for a flashlight.

"I can manage from here, Jack," Daniel said softly. "Thanks."

Jack nodded and was about to release Daniel's arm, but changed his mind when he felt him swaying to one side. "How about I walk you over to the wall. You can lean on it while you . . . go."

"Thanks," Daniel said again.

"Welcome," Jack replied as they approached the latrine, similar to the type of portable toilets that people who didn't care for shitting in the woods took out camping with them.

"Nice of Hammond to send a potty through for us, don't you think?"

Daniel didn't answer as they took the last few steps. He moved his arm away from Jack and put his hand up to the wall, letting his weight fall against it.

Jack stood there for a second, watching as Daniel moved his other hand up in support, and lowered his head down between his arms. He asked warily, "Not going to fall down again, are you?"

"I'm fine."

The lack of strength in Daniel's voice said the complete opposite, and Jack was hesitant to move too far away. "I'll be over by the door if you need me."

"I can take a piss by myself, Jack."

"I'm sure you can, Daniel."

"So there's no need for you to stay."

Daniel's voice had that impatient edge to it that Jack hated, and had heard much to often lately. Resisting the urge to tell him that if he fainted face first into his own waste product, he could get himself out, Jack said crisply, "I'll wait outside, then."

"Good idea." Daniel proceeded to unzip his fly. Jack made a hasty exit from the room, took one step sideways out the door, then leaned back against the corridor wall to wait. When Daniel hadn't emerged after several minutes, even though there'd been no crashes or other noises that could be construed as harmful, Jack began to worry.

"Daniel? You finished in there yet?"

His question was met by silence, so, even more worried, Jack twisted his upper body through the doorway, squinting to see in the half light. When he saw Daniel sitting on the toilet, he immediately went to straighten himself up and back out again, but then had second thoughts. He took a slow step into the room.

"Are you all right?"

Moving closer, Jack could now see that Daniel had lowered the lid of the latrine and was simply sitting on top of it, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Jack bent down at the waist, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Daniel?"

"I almost jumped off my balcony . . . " Daniel sounded dazed. He slowly lifted his head, and stared straight ahead. His eyes were distant, caught up in another moment in time.

Jack stayed silent. Daniel needed to get his mind around what he'd just said -- what he was finally remembering -- and Jack knew that saying nothing was the best way he could help right now. He knelt down next to Daniel and squeezed his arm in reassurance, letting him know he was there, and anchoring him to the present moment, where everything was okay -- as okay as things got for SG1, anyway. Very soon, Daniel blinked, and turned his head to look at him.

"You talked to me . . . you said . . ." Daniel's forehead creased in concentration. "You said, come inside and we'll get it back, we'll fix it." He swallowed convulsively, and his whole face scrunched up, overloaded by the awakened memories. Jack was painfully reminded of the moment Daniel had fallen to his knees out on his balcony and asked, 'What's wrong with me?'

And here they were again, Daniel hurting, and Jack not sure of what to say.

Daniel broke the silence. He gave a tiny shake of his head and softly said, "I was so close. So close to letting go." He reached up and took hold of Jack's outstretched arm in a firm grip. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack felt like an imposter. "Don't say that, Daniel. I let you down. I should never have sent you home, especially alone, not when you were acting so . . . " He struggled to find the right word.

"Weird?" Daniel offered.

"Lost," Jack said quietly, staring at Daniel's face, seeing his cut and swollen lip, and remembering all the bad times they'd gone through, and survived, together. The look in Daniel's eyes said he was doing exactly the same thing . . . thinking about a lot of bad shit, and boy, even without adding this latest instalmemt to the list, there was a huge range to choose from. But bad shit memories needed to be dealt with like real shit. Flushed out of the system and duly forgotten.

Jack smiled, pleased with his new take on philosophy. "So, we're over this, right?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Then I guess we're over this," Daniel said slowly, sounding like he wanted to say a lot more.

"Daniel?" Jack cocked his head slightly to one side, silently urging him to get whatever it was off his chest.

Daniel grimaced. "What about the dumb as dog shit comment?"

Jack broke into a wide smile. No-one else could ever out do Daniel in turning molehills into mountains.

"You been through what you've just been through, and you think I'm worried about that?"

Daniel shrugged and said, "Maybe. I didn't mean it, you know."

"I know." Jack patted him on the shoulder and said, "Half the things I call you I don't mean either."

Daniel opened his mouth and went to say something, but Jack got in quickly, "I'm not saying which half."

It was good to see a genuine smile on Daniel's face again, even with the fat lip.

"So now we've done the whole rebonding thing," Jack continued, "I say we get outta here. You've got an appointment with Doctors Fraiser and Carter, God help you."

Daniel gave a long suffering look and nodded in agreement as Jack helped him up to his feet.

"I'll start praying now," he muttered.

As they walked away, Jack commented, "The mood Fraiser's in? You should've started about a year ago."

* * * * *

Epilogue

Daniel survived Carter's doctoring, and Fraiser's lecturing, but only just. Janet checked in morning and night during the first few days of their enforced stay, but scaled it down to once a day thereafter. Although Daniel thought she was totally overdoing it with the medical supervision, he didn't dare say anything of the sort. Fraiser had gone to great lengths to explain, in minute detail, just how close he'd come to dying, initially from the effects of withdrawal back on Earth, and then from shock after he'd collapsed here on 347. Only the efforts of Jack and Sam, following Janet's every instruction to the letter and beyond, had saved him.

He was alive, at least until the next time they ran into some new piece of technology or hostile alien race.

Considering how regularly his ass was saved by the rest of his team, Daniel thought expressing his gratitude would've become a little easier over the years. Sure, he'd said thank you to Jack when he was sitting on the latrine -- and wasn't that a lovely place to have a discussion with anyone -- but they really hadn't said much at all. At the time Daniel had been too overcome with a whole combination of feelings, and memories, to be capable of communicating very much at all. While his heart-to-heart's with Jack were few and far between, and always very abridged, it didn't mean they didn't say a lot when they did have them. But this time, Daniel was left feeling like he hadn't said nearly enough . . . not when Jack had saved his life three times in one day -- some kind of record, even for him.

And he hadn't even broached the subject with Sam.

When Daniel did finally get around to thanking his friends properly, it was a week to the day after his latest brush with death, the day of the memorial service for the members of SG5. The gate was left open between P4X347 and Earth for the proceedings, and both Jack and Daniel spoke in honor of their dead comrades. Afterwards, Teal'c came through to join them in a scaled down version of the wake being held back at the SGC.

The big man emerged from the Gate and greeted everyone in turn, including Loren.

Then, locking eyes with Daniel, he stated solemnly, "I am very pleased you have returned to a state of good health, Daniel Jackson."

Everyone was looking at Daniel now, and although there was a marked feeling of somberness left over from the service, everyone was smiling.

"Thank you, Teal'c."

"Both you and O'Neill spoke well during the ceremony."

Jack stepped up, looking at the two large, styrofoam boxes Teal'c held under each arm. "Thanks buddy. Whatcha got there?"

"I have brought food and beverages."

Throwing his head back, Jack exclaimed, "Yessss!" He looked at Teal'c again and said, "Did I ever tell you you're my hero?"

"I do not believe so, O'Neill."

"Well you are. Let's go eat. I think I've lost at least ten pounds . . ." He whispered theatrically in Teal'c's ear, "Carter's been cooking a lot."

A disgusted looking Sam shook her head, but didn't retaliate to the teasing. She said to Teal'c, "We've made good headway with the device. It's down past half-way already."

"This is also very pleasing, Major Carter. I have missed the company of yourself and Daniel Jackson over the past week."

Relieving Teal'c of half his load, Jack said, "And me. You forgot to mention me."

"Indeed."

Jack narrowed his eyes, but didn't question the inconclusive statement. "I vote for alfresco lunch. Any takers?"

Everyone agreed. They ate in the courtyard, in the early afternoon sunshine. Daniel was limited to one beer, under doctor's orders, and that was enough to already have his head buzzing nicely.

He took a long swallow to finish the bottle, then grabbed another one and opened it. Sam was on the verge of protesting, but he silenced her with a meaningful look. Then he announced, "I want to say something to you all."

Jack was on his fourth beer. "You need a drum roll or something?"

Daniel thought about ignoring him, but then he grinned. "Yeah."

Sam chuckled, Teal'c even seemed amused, and Loren looked the same way he had for the past week. Slightly overwhelmed, but mostly happy.

Jack stared over the top of his beer at Daniel, then lowered it with a smile. A very convincing sounding drum roll and clash of cymbals followed.

"I just want say . . . " Daniel paused, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "Thank you.

Thank you for looking after me, not just during the past week, but constantly over the past four years. Your friendship means everything to me, and . . . " he thought back to his conversation with Jack. "I'd be lost without you."

He waited for someone to respond, but silence reigned for a sizeable moment.

Then Jack raised his bottle and said, "Ditto, Daniel."

Following Jack's lead, Sam lifted her beer, and Teal'c did the same with his bottled water, completing the impromptu toast. "Ditto."

They all drank deeply, then Jack raised his beer again. "To friendship, to loyalty. To SG5."

Daniel felt the prick of tears at the back of his eyes as he, and two other voices reverently repeated, "To SG5."

*****

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."

- Helen Keller

As ever, thanks to Lems, for her
well-tried patience and beta perfection. Medical
inaccuracies belong to me, medical facts (there are a couple) thanks to
Drey Auc.

© July 4, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.
The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters
who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,
titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,
Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd.
Partnership.
This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and
solely meant for entertainment.
All other characters, the story idea and the story itself
are the sole property of the author.