Stargate SG1: Beloved (3/5)
All disclaimers, notes, warnings and summary are in the Master post: Beloved
Chapter Five
Jack figured that it would be obvious rather quickly whether Daniel was waking up with a full load of memories or without, and Daniel didn't disappoint him. When he first opened his eyes, he blinked at Jack sleepily, obviously still feeling the lingering effects of the sedative. His expression said only, 'what happened?' and his eyes held only confusion. Thankfully there was none of the horror, fear and shame that had filled them in the storeroom.
Without memories it was, then.
Daniel continued to blink, and Jack forced himself to smile at him. It was an imitation of their usual infirmary greeting, a bit of fake familiarity, but even so it gave him some small measure of comfort. So long as Daniel didn't remember what had happened, he could pretend that he didn't, either. And for those few moments, however long they would last, he would enjoy it.
Finally, Daniel raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat, and smiled back. "What happened?"
"You're hurt," he said simply. Normally, he'd start to fill in all the mission details that Daniel was waking up without, but he wasn't going to do that. If Daniel remembered, it would be just because he did; he wouldn't have any part in helping him.
Daniel took a second to mentally inspect himself. Jack could see him thinking, running through everything in his mind, almost like he had a checklist of all the different signals he was getting from his body and what they might mean. Daniel winced, and Jack knew that he'd identified the main source of his pain.
"I hurt my back and bruised some ribs?"
Jack shook his head. "Nah," he answered. "You hurt your back and broke some ribs. What you bruised is a couple of organs."
"Which ones?"
"One kidney and your spleen, apparently. Whatever that is."
Daniel blinked, wrinkled his forehead, and tried again. "Surgery?" He either ignored or didn't register exactly what the words 'bruised organs' implied, because he tried to push himself up straighter in the bed. He grimaced, seemed to realize that moving was a bad idea, and laid his head back against the pillow.
"No," Jack said. "She says it's not that bad."
"Oh, that's good."
Daniel was squirming around on the mattress slightly, and it was obvious he was having problems finding a comfortable position. Jack resisted the urge to reach out and help him sit up, but he did pick up the bed control and raise the head of it ever-so-slightly. Daniel smiled at him in gratitude, but he couldn't muster up the energy to return it.
A few moments passed in silence. He glanced around the room nervously, wondering how much longer it would be before Janet showed up to examine Daniel and rescue him from the awkwardness. He was beginning to doubt that he'd be able to play at normal much longer, and it really ate at him just how right she'd been about that.
He knew that he should be taking comfort from the fact that Daniel had no idea what had happened to him, but he couldn't. Instead of making it easier for him to ignore the memories that had come back in the storeroom - along with a whole slew of new ones that had been filtering in slowly since then - the trusting and unworried expression on Daniel's face made Jack's burden that much heavier.
He wanted to keep Daniel blissfully ignorant for as long as possible, but at the same time, he knew he wasn't going to be able to do it forever. It wouldn't be long before the memories slammed back into place in his mind, before he had to watch Daniel suffer another flashback like the one he'd had in the locker room. And when that happened, if things followed the same pattern they'd been following, Daniel was going to fall, and he was going to fall hard.
Jack worried that he wouldn't be able to catch him when it happened, but more than that, he worried that once Daniel's memories returned, he wasn't even going to let him try.
"So."
He turned back toward the sound of Daniel's voice, and he realized that while he'd been lost in his thoughts, Daniel had been watching him, studying him, looking for context for the emotions that were flashing across his face. Obviously, Daniel couldn't explain why he saw what he did in Jack's eyes, but it was equally obvious that he knew he was seeing it.
"You going to tell me how I got hurt?"
He shook his head slowly and lowered his eyes. "No," he admitted softly. "I'm not."
Daniel nodded carefully. After a few more moments of silence, Jack looked up to see Daniel still watching him.
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse," he said.
"And you don't think I can handle knowing?" Daniel's voice was calm and even, but there was an indignant, almost injured, edge to it that Jack picked up on immediately.
"I know you can't," he said. "And I know you're better off not knowing."
"And how do you 'know' that, Jack?" No, that tone wasn't the tone of voice Daniel used when he was injured. It was the one he used when he was insulted. He was honestly getting mad at Jack for thinking he couldn't deal with what had happened? He was going to get pissy at Jack for protecting him?
He pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the end of the bed.
Every time he thought he had those stupid irrational emotions of his under control, they jumped right back up and smacked him in the face. The anger and fear that were flooding through him - anger at what had happened, fear of what Daniel would do when he remembered - were making it impossible for him to concentrate. He was dangerously close to losing his temper again, and he couldn't let that happen, because he knew he'd aim it at Daniel and he'd end up saying a whole lot of things they'd both regret. He had to be the calm one, he had to be the one in control, and no matter how much Daniel fought him on it, that's what he was going to be.
His decision made, he took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and finally met Daniel's eyes.
"Because I've been watching you 'handle' it all day," he said evenly. "And you're not doing so hot. Neither am I." He shrugged, dropped his arms, and walked back to the chair. "We've got a little alien influence going on right now, both of us. And it's screwing with our emotions. So sue me for trying to spare you that for a little longer."
Daniel titled his head in surprised confusion, and his eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.
"I told you it was bad," Jack said.
A few more seconds of silence passed while Jack kept glancing around the infirmary. Where the hell was Janet?
"No matter how bad it is," Daniel said softly, "I deserve to know what happened to me."
Jack nodded his head reluctantly. "You do," he admitted. "And you will. If there's one thing I do know, it's that it's all going to come back to you. Always has before." He sat back down in the chair, leaned forward, and put his elbows on his knees. "But you're not going to hear it from me."
"Then who am I going to hear it from?"
He sighed deeply, and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the stiffness and fatigue that he felt. "If I had anything to say about it, no one. But since I don't get a say … probably Dr. Mackenzie."
Daniel's eyes widened, and he looked down at his right arm for the first time since he'd woke up. Specifically, he looked at his wrist. And the six inch wide bright white bandage that encircled it.
Oh, shit. How the hell had he forgotten about that?
"So, this is …" Daniel swallowed hard, and when he looked up at Jack, his eyes were full of emotion. "This is what it looks like, isn't it?"
Jack looked around frantically for Janet once more, but she was nowhere to be seen. He stood up and reached out in what he hoped was a reassuring and calming gesture. "Daniel, listen to me …"
"What'd I do?" Daniel whispered. In his eyes, Jack saw the rising tide of fear, horror and shame, mixed with growing swirl of confusion. He'd lifted his arm up from the bed slightly and was turning it over, staring at it as though he thought that the bandages themselves would give him the answers his face said he so desperately needed. He was shaking when he looked at Jack again.
"What did I do?!"
"Nothing," Jack insisted. He gripped Daniel's shoulder tightly in his hand, hoping that the strength of his conviction would be enough to convince Daniel that what he was saying was true. "You didn't do anything, do you hear me? It wasn't you."
"Wasn't me?" Daniel's disbelief was audible. "What, someone else slit my wrist?"
"It's not like that."
"Not like what?" His voice was cracking and breaking like a teenage boy's, he was shaking like a five-year-old in the snow, and his eyes were darting around the room looking for answers he was never going to find. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off head-first, and he was going to do it soon if Jack couldn't talk him down. "My wrist is bandaged, I can feel the stitches pulling, I don't remember what happened, and you're telling me that I have to talk to a shrink!"
Daniel grabbed at the bandages with his left hand, trying to pull them off so he could see what was underneath. That was when Jack realized that memories or no, Daniel still had that damn drug in his system. His emotions were nowhere near rational at that moment.
"Stop, Daniel," he said, as calmly as he could manage. When he didn't listen, Jack wrapped his fingers gently around Daniel's arms and pushed them down. "I said stop."
"Jack …"
There was so much in that name - so much pain, terror, shock, desperation. It was clear in his voice, plain on his face, and impossible to ignore in his eyes. It took every ounce of strength Jack had to not cave in to it, to not give Daniel the explanations that he wanted - no, needed - so badly. He deserved to know. He had every right in the world to know.
But no matter how much Jack believed that, he would not be the one to tell him. He couldn't be.
"Do you remember that alien influence thing I mentioned?"
Daniel nodded wordlessly.
"Well, this is what it does. All that stuff going through your mind right now? All those jumbled up feelings that you don't know where they're coming from or what they mean or why they're so strong?"
Another nod.
"Welcome to our wonderful new world."
"Permanent?" Daniel asked, so quietly that Jack barely heard him.
"No, it'll go away. It'll take a while, a lot longer than it should, if you ask me, but it will go away. It's already starting to. A little bit."
"What's it do?"
Jack sighed. He really wished that Daniel would start talking at normal volume again, but at least he was talking, and he wasn't screaming, and he seemed to be calming down, so he'd take what he could get.
"It messes with your head, screws with your emotions. Doc says it amplifies them." No way in hell was he telling him that its primary function was mind control. Down that road waited a ton of questions that he didn't want Daniel asking yet. "Instead of a little worried, you're panicking. Instead of a little scared, you're terrified. Instead of a little upset, you're seriously pissed. That kinda thing."
"And instead of a little depressed, I'm suicidal?"
Sometimes, he forgot just how damn smart Daniel was.
"So it was me."
"No," Jack argued, shaking his head. "It wasn't. You had no control over it. You had no idea what was going on, but now you do, and it's not gonna be that bad, right?" Daniel's eyes were fixed on the bandages around his wrist again. "Right? Hey! Look at me," he ordered. Once he knew that he had Daniel's undivided attention, he continued."It's not as bad as you're afraid it is, okay? Doc says you did it wrong, you didn't do any real damage, and that means you didn't really want to do it at all."
Story of your life right now, isn't it? I'd give anything to take it all away.
"You just … you couldn't control it. You couldn't stop it from happening, but you fought it."
You fought like hell, Danny. If you only knew how hard you fought her.
Jack took a deep breath and settled on his hip on the edge of the bed. "There's a lot of that going around right now. Whole lot of guys doing and saying things they don't mean. You're no different."
Just don't hate me for what I did and said to you. Please.
The corners of Daniel's lips turned up just the smallest bit in what Jack was sure would have been a smile if he'd had either the energy or the mindset for it.
"What?" Jack asked.
"Just thinking. Wondering which of those three reactions you mentioned is you."
There was almost a twinkle in his eye when he said it, and Jack had to smile back. There was no doubt that their friendship was going to face a lot of strain in the coming days, hit a whole lot of bumps in the road. There was also no doubt that the blame for all of it rested squarely on Jack's shoulders. But for as long as this illusion of normalcy would last, as long as he could hold Daniel's trust, he'd take whatever he could get.
"What?" he asked with a shrug. "I've got such a cheerful and sunny disposition."
The expression on Daniel's face was changing again, relaxing a bit and shifting from fear into curiosity. Normally, it would have made Jack breathe easier, because it was a sign that Daniel was already getting back to normal. But in his current state of mind, that natural curiosity of his was a landmine just waiting to be stepped on.
"Why?" he asked. He hadn't looked away from Jack yet, but it was obvious that he wanted to, very badly. He was forcing himself to look at him. "I mean, did I say anything, or write a note? Did I say why?"
It was Jack who finally broke the connection. He turned to stare at the empty wall across the infirmary while nodding his head slowly. "Yeah, you did."
"But you're not going to tell me?" Daniel ventured.
"No, I'm not."
He could feel Daniel watching him again, but he wouldn't turn around. He knew there was too much written on his face, too many answers, and he couldn't stand the thought of Daniel seeing them.
"I told you."
Jack nodded silently.
"I … I did it in front of you." Jack turned back slowly but gave no indication of the thoughts going through his mind. "Didn't I?" Daniel pressed. "That's why you're so upset, why you won't tell me. I did it in front of you, and I told you why."
Daniel, of all people, would understand how hard that would be for him to deal with. But without his memories, he couldn't understand why. And that 'why' was another little piece of trivia that he wasn't going to be sharing with anyone any time soon. Jack took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
Daniel stared back at him, slack-jawed in shock. "I can't believe I would … God, Jack, I'm so sorry."
"No," he answered, shaking his head as he did. "Don't you apologize for it. It wasn't you."
"But …"
"No," he repeated, silencing Daniel with the wave of his finger. "Look, this is something that you need to understand, and you need to get your head wrapped around it right now. What you did was not your fault. What happened to you was not your fault. You did not do anything wrong, and I don't blame you for any of it. No one blames you. Do you hear me?"
"How am I supposed to believe that when I don't even know what happened?"
"You don't have to know. You trust me, right? And I'm telling you that it's not your fault. I'm also telling you that when all those memories locked up in that brain of yours start coming back … no matter what you see, no matter what you feel, I want you to remember one thing."
"What's that?"
"I would never hurt you," Jack said, squeezing Daniel's arm for emphasis. "Do you hear me? Never. Can you remember that?"
"Of course."
"No, Daniel, I mean it. This is important. I need you to know that I would never hurt you, and I'd give my life to protect you from anyone who did."
"I know that, Jack." Daniel tilted his head slightly on the pillow and looked up at him, concern written plainly in his eyes. "Are you all right? Because you're kind of freaking me out right now."
He let go his hold on Daniel's arms, stood up from the bed, and turned away, wiping absently as his nose as he did. "Yeah, I'm … it's those messed up emotions. They've been screwing with me all day." He looked back at Daniel and flashed a quick, insecure smile.
Daniel sank back into his pillow and closed his eyes. "If you say so, Jack."
"What about you? You okay?"
"Tired," Daniel answered as he shifted on the bed, obviously trying to get comfortable. "Back hurts."
"That's to be expected. There's still a bit of sedative in your system, I'm sure, and you've got a very large, deep bruise on your back. It's going to hurt for a while."
Janet's voice took Jack by surprise, and he shot her a sidelong glance as she walked past him. The expression on her face said that she'd been standing just within earshot the entire time he and Daniel had been talking, and she'd chosen her entrance very carefully. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled at him indulgently. She'd known he still didn't have control of his emotions, and she'd let him stand there and say all those sappy, touchy-feely things without stopping him. She did it on purpose.
Damn woman.
Daniel looked back and forth between them, obviously aware that there was something going on but having no idea what it was. The silence in the room was growing awkward, even more awkward than the conversation that had just taken place. Jack had no idea how to fill it, and he hated that. Janet smiled at them and took immediate control of both the situation and the flow of conversation.
"Colonel O'Neill, if you could excuse us? I need to examine my patient."
Jack stepped forward, his head inclined ever-so-slightly in reluctant understanding. "I'll be back later," he said to Daniel as he chucked him lightly on the arm. "Take it easy, okay?"
"Sure. See ya."
He looked over at Janet and gave her a quick, jerky nod. "Doctor Fraiser," he said coolly. "I'll be in your office."
"Of course you will, Colonel." That smile of hers was really starting to get on his already frayed and slightly irrational nerves. "Of course you will."
He didn't even let her get the door closed before he started in on her.
"That was an absolute load of crap, Doc. Not to mention a lousy thing to do to somebody. You stood there and listened to us? And you couldn't have interrupted?"
She walked across to her desk and settled in her chair, but the smile on her face wasn't one of victory. It was too uncertain for that. "Whether or not you wanted to say it, Colonel, he needed to hear it, and he needed to hear it from you. You know that. What you just told him might be the difference between him being able to deal with the memories when they return and him shutting down again."
Jack flopped bonelessly in the chair across from her with a sigh, then massaged his forehead with his fingers. She was right, and he did know it. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
"So how is he?"
Janet's face relaxed until she was wearing her natural, reassuring smile. "He's healing. Sleeping, but not sedated. I'm already watching him for reactions with the first sedative, and if I'd had a choice about using that, I wouldn't have. I won't do it again unless there's absolutely no other option. I gave him some Tylenol for his back, but I'm worried about giving him anything stronger. Unknown alien psychotropics aren't exactly something I want to go mixing morphine with. He's going to be in quite a bit of pain for the next few days, and I hate it, but until I believe that drug's completely gone, there's nothing else I can do."
He knew she was right about that, too, but he hated it just as much as she did, if not more. Even under normal circumstances, a hurting Daniel was a pissy Daniel, and with everything else that was going on … no one was going to be happy for the next few days.
"Did you tell … ?"
"No," she answered abruptly. "I didn't. Firstly, it isn't my place to do that, because I wasn't there. If it's anyone's, it's yours."
Jack shook his head in denial.
"And secondly, I honestly do believe that forcing the memories on him will do more harm than good. Think about how hard it is for you, dealing with the small pieces that are coming back a bit at a time. Could you imagine what it would be like to get slammed by all of them at the same time? How painful and overwhelming would it be to process them all at once?"
He tilted his head in confusion. "Why do you think it'd be like that?"
She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk. "I've been thinking about how he's reacting, and I'm starting to suspect that it's not the memories that are giving him the problems, but how many of them there are. I don't think he's been getting little pieces here and there, like you and the general have been. I think he's being triggered, and he's getting everything at the same time, and I think he has been all along. And he's not just remembering it; he's reliving it."
"The panic attack in the hallway with Siler," Jack said in understanding. If there was one thing he could relate to, it was reliving trauma. He'd been an expert at it himself not that long ago. "The flashback in the locker room. The catatonic thing, the headache, the passing out."
Janet nodded. "Exactly."
"You're talking full-blown PTSD, aren't you?"
"Maybe. It also might be ASD, or it might be nothing. But it's entirely possible, Colonel. Would you honestly be all that surprised?"
He leaned forward on his knees, scrubbed his hands through his hair, then smacked his hands against his thighs and slumped back in the chair again.
"So what do we do? How do we help him?"
"First, we let Dr. Mackenzie make an official diagnosis. Until then, we watch him, give him all the support we can, and wait and see what happens."
He hated waiting. He hated it even worse when he knew that there was something terrible just around the corner, ready to pounce. He hadn't remembered everything yet, and even though he knew what was coming, the thought of actually remembering what he'd seen, what he'd seen done to Daniel, chilled him to the bone. And all he was going to remember was watching it; Daniel was going to remember living it. Over and over again.
"Is he gonna make it through this, Doc?"
He didn't understand why he'd asked, because he'd never once, in the year and a half he'd known him, questioned Daniel's strength. But the situation was so far beyond the pale, and so much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, that he found himself suddenly doubting. It wasn't a matter of how strong Daniel was anymore; it was a matter of just how much his mind and body could handle.
"I don't know," she answered softly. "We're going to do everything we can to help him, of course, but there comes a point where it really all depends on him. I think he can, and I sincerely hope he does."
Everyone had something that they just couldn't deal with, couldn't process, couldn't make it past. What if the trigger/shutdown cycle was just the way it was going to be? What if flipping between amnesia and panic was Daniel's new default setting? What if that bitch had dragged him down so far that he couldn't climb back out again? Everyone had a breaking point, didn't they?
What if this was Daniel's?
Chapter Six
He felt almost human.
The memories had started back up again once Daniel was sleeping, but thankfully they'd slowed down, and he'd only had twelve or so in the past six hours. He'd hadn't snapped at anyone in more than an hour, and he'd almost managed to make it through breakfast with Sam and Teal'c without falling back into the black pit that was his mind. Thankfully, the three times he had, they'd been able to coax him back out. They hadn't even seemed all that upset by it. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, that they not only seemed to expect him to zone out on them for no reason but that they'd apparently come up with some plan for dealing with him when he did.
So, after a bowl of oatmeal, two eggs, a piece of toast, half a pot of coffee, and a shower, he felt almost human again. And if he spent half an hour in the shower, standing under the steaming water, letting it run down his skin in scalding streams and scrubbing until his stomach was red and raw, well, no one but him knew he'd done it, right? So it didn't really count.
All that was left was his daily workout.
He usually worked out with Teal'c in the gym. Those Jaffa had a lot of great secrets that Teal'c had been more than open about sharing with them, in the hopes that they'd be more readily able to defend themselves against their enemy. There was something about working out with Teal'c, dodging and weaving and pounding on the punching bag with the practice staffs that Teal'c had made, that set his mind at ease. Working up a sweat by pretending to beat the crap out of a ghost was cathartic. But as much as he needed that, he knew that he couldn't be that far away from Daniel for that long.
So he'd settled for getting Fraiser's permission to run on one of the treadmills in the physical therapy room.
On the opposite side of the closed door at his back, Daniel was lying in an infirmary bed, having the first of what promised to be several sessions with Dr. Mackenzie. He was dreading his own session, which was coming up later in the day, but Daniel had to come first. In return for his promise to keep his mouth shut, Fraiser had let him stay in her office when she and Mackenzie had their initial consultation.
"He's repressing it," Fraiser had said. "He does have a concussion, but only a Grade One, so there's no cause for suspecting traumatic amnesia."
Of course he had a concussion. Did she have any idea how many times he'd been backhanded hard enough to fly across the room? How many times his head had been bounced off the wall, the floor, the headboard of the bed … ?
"So, the memories are there?" Mackenzie had questioned. "He just can't access them?"
Well, obviously the memories were there. Wasn't that kind of implied by the whole 'repressed memories' thing? Wouldn't it be a little hard to repress memories that didn't exist?
"He can, but not willingly. When they're forced on him, he reacts badly."
"Reacts badly," Jack mumbled to himself. He shook his head at the understatement and pushed the button on the control panel in front of him, increasing both his speed and incline. Panic attacks, catatonia, passing out without warning, trying to kill himself? "I'd hate to see your definition of 'falls completely apart,' Doc."
"How are they coming back? Is he being triggered?"
"I believe so, yes."
"Do we know what the trigger is?"
"No."
That was a lie, but to be fair to Fraiser, she didn't know she was lying. And to be fair to Jack, he hadn't known he was letting her lie when she said it. It wasn't until after he'd been running for fifteen minutes that he realized he knew what that trigger was. It wasn't that hard to figure out when he thought about it. The first time he'd flashed back had been after Sam told them who'd just left through the Stargate. The second time was after Jack had asked him what he remembered about her.
That snakebitch's name was all it took to send Daniel spiraling down, completely out of control.
"I'll handle him as carefully as I can, but if I should hit on it accidentally?"
"Colonel O'Neill and I will stay close."
Of course he would. Did Mackenzie really think he was going to leave Daniel alone with him for long? Did Fraiser really think he was going to leave Daniel alone with anyone?
"So he has no conscious memory of the rape itself? Or of the woman who raped him?"
"No, none."
"Is he aware of how he received his injuries?"
"He knows that something bad happened to him; he doesn't know what it was."
Jack stabbed at the speed button again. He hated himself for thinking it, but there were times that he caught himself envying Daniel's inability to remember what had happened. What he'd been through, what he'd seen, what he'd done, what he'd said …
Hathor pushing Daniel's arms above his head, holding them there, squeezing his wrists so hard that the bones ground against each other … Hathor leaning down, digging her teeth into his collarbone, lapping at the blood with her tongue …
He punched the control panel, barely noticed how fast he was already going, and closed his eyes.
Daniel, not moving … not moving … tears streaming down his face, eyes closed, head back, mouth open but no sound coming out … not moving, not screaming, not fighting …
He slammed his hand against the button with all of his strength.
"And the suicide attempt? Any memory of it at all?"
"No. He is aware of what he did, but he doesn't remember doing it."
The belt couldn't go any faster; the incline couldn't go any higher. But he kept running, pushing himself harder, ignoring the raised voices coming through the closed door behind him.
Daniel pushing the knife through his skin, dragging it up his arm, leaving it all behind … the blood running down, dripping to the floor, taking him away … "You promised."
He hadn't known what it meant.
"You promised."
He hadn't known then, hadn't remembered everything he'd said. The voices behind him were growing louder, more insistent, but he barely heard them.
"I can't do it again. I'd rather die. Help me."
Faster. He had to go faster.
"Please, Jack …"
"I can't. Don't ask me again, Daniel. I won't do it."
It wasn't fast enough. It would never be fast enough.
"Promise me, Jack."
"No!"
"Jack …"
It was right behind him. He could feel it breathing down his neck, whispering in his ear. Hell lived in his memory, and it would never let him go. It was going to catch him. It wouldn't let him run; it wouldn't let him hide. What had he said? What had he done?
"I can't live like this. Don't make me live like this. Please."
"She won't touch you again. I'll do it. I'll save you. I promise."
"God damn it!" He smacked the treadmill so hard that it rattled and shook beneath him. When the belt jerked to a stop, he sank to his knees and buried his head in his arms. "What did I do?" He was doubled over in pain both physical and mental, panting for breath, and the liquid running down his face, into and out of his eyes, wasn't just sweat.
"Damn it, Daniel, what did you make me do?"
"Help me, Jack."
"I won't do it!"
"Help me!"
"Daniel …"
"Jack! Help me! Jack!!"
That was no memory.
His pain was forgotten in a heartbeat, and he jumped to his feet, ran toward the door, and threw it open. He'd never moved so fast in his life, but it wasn't been fast enough. It would never be fast enough. He'd been wrong about hell living in his memory; it was standing right in front of him.
Daniel, dressed only in the pair of scrub bottoms that Janet had allowed him to wear for the interview, was standing in the middle of the infirmary, eyes filled with fear, shaking, gasping for breath.
Daniel, his unbuttoned uniform pants low on his hips, his glasses lost somewhere in the tangled mess of sheets, lying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling, not moving, barely breathing …
He processed it as quickly as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. Daniel - his bare chest and back covered in bruises, scratches and bite marks, the bruise above his hip black against the paleness of his skin, his shoulders heaving with every panicked breath that he drew. The harsh fluorescent lights glinted off the blade of a scalpel he held tightly in his hand, and blood from his ripped out IV streaked down the inside of his arm.
The blood running down, dripping to the floor, taking him away …
"Dr. Jackson," he heard Mackenzie say gently. "Daniel. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."
"Don't touch me!" Daniel cried out. "Stay away from me! Jack!"
The past flew out of his mind as quickly as the present slammed into it, and he stepped forward.
"I'm right here, Daniel," he said carefully. "Right behind you. Turn around and look at me."
Daniel turned his head slowly, his eyes wide, terrified.
Jack took a deep breath and another step forward. "Right here, buddy. You see me?"
Daniel nodded his head uncertainly, but otherwise didn't move.
"Why don't you talk to me, Daniel? Put the knife down and talk to me."
"Have to stop her," Daniel whispered. "Can't let her."
"She's not here," he said. "She can't hurt you again."
Daniel shook his head slowly. "No, she's here. I can hear her. I can … smell her. Feel her." His eyes closed and he shuddered, hunching his shoulders forward as he pressed the heel of his empty hand against his temple. "I can hear her."
"Dr. Jackson, I want you back in that bed."
Jack hadn't even realized that Janet was walking up behind Daniel until that moment. Until she opened her mouth and said something she'd said a hundred times before. Until Daniel heard a woman authoritatively ordering him back into bed, and his head snapped up. Until Daniel spun around, eyes wild, frantic, desperate, and struck out at her, swinging blindly with both his fist and the scalpel. He couldn't have had any idea what - who - he was aiming at, or he'd never have done it.
"No!"
Jack's cry blended with Daniel's - one a denial, one a plea.
Janet wasn't close enough to Daniel for him to be able to hit her, but she jumped back out of reflex. She lost her balance, tripped and fell to the floor with a cry. Dr. Mackenzie dashed toward her and knelt at her side to make certain that she wasn't hurt. Jack bolted forward and jumped in front of Daniel, putting himself squarely between him and Janet. He raised his hands in front of him, palms turned out, placating.
"Hey," he said. "Look at me, Daniel."
Daniel's eyes darted frantically around the room, on the lookout for the next threat, either real or imagined. "Where'd she go?" he asked breathlessly. "She's coming back."
"No, she's not. Now look at me."
He could hear Janet and Mackenzie talking behind him, whispering to each other frantically as Mackenzie helped her to her feet, and he didn't like what he was hearing at all. Words like 'danger to himself,' 'violently unstable,' and 'requires constant supervision' were not what he needed to hear at that moment, even mixed as they were with Janet's 'wasn't thinking,' 'I know better,' and 'not his fault.'
"We have to go," Daniel said urgently. "This is our chance, but we have to hurry."
Jack took a careful, measured step forward, shaking his head in denial and reaching for Daniel at the same time. He didn't know if Janet and Mackenzie were still behind him, didn't know if they were hearing what he said, and didn't particularly care. If he was about to cost them both a hundred sessions with Mackenzie, then so be it. He had to talk Daniel out of doing what he was about to do.
"We don't have to do that now, Daniel. It's over."
Daniel was moving toward him, one slow, hesitant step at a time, his face a combination of certainty, trust and almost innocent hope. It cut Jack to the core to see it. "It's the only way out." Daniel cocked his head to the side, and his eyes widened. "You remember, don't you, Jack? You promised."
He nodded his head reluctantly. "I remember," he admitted. "But she's gone. We got out, and you're safe. That promise I made, Daniel …" He swallowed hard and took another step. He was close enough to Daniel to touch his arm, almost close enough to grab the scalpel. For a heartbeat, the scene in the storeroom flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. "We don't need it anymore."
Daniel took a nervous step back, and Jack saw the tears welling in his eyes. "She took you," Daniel whispered. "She took you away. And you didn't come back."
"I know."
"She got you, didn't she? She made you into one of them."
Jack shook his head vehemently. "No, she didn't. She tried, but Carter and Teal'c, Doc Fraiser, they found me. They saved me, Daniel. I'm okay."
Daniel's eyes narrowed, and the trust that he'd shown before disappeared. He was backing away, closing himself off, hiding. "We're going to save each other," he said. "We promised."
"We don't have to," Jack repeated. The look on Daniel's face said that he wasn't hearing a word Jack was saying, but he couldn't give up. There was too much at stake. "Look at me, listen to me. We're already out. That wasn't Hathor you just took a swing at; it was Janet Fraiser. You're not in that room anymore; you're in the infirmary. You're beat all to hell, you're hurt, you're bleeding all over the place, and you're not thinking straight."
"I have to save you," Daniel insisted. "Have to save everyone."
"Not anymore!" He didn't want to lose his temper, and he fought it with everything he had, but his frustration was quickly becoming too much to bear. "If you ever trusted me, Daniel, trust me now. We don't have to do this."
"I can stop her." He could see it coming, even before Daniel flipped the scalpel over in his hand and raised it in front of him.
"Don't you do this, Daniel."
"Have to save Jack." Daniel lifted his other arm, the one already covered in blood from the ripped out IV.
"Killing yourself won't save me!"
He expected Daniel to swipe the blade across his own wrist or up the inside of his own arm. He expected him to do something to hurt himself, and that's what he was prepared for. He'd already figured out where he needed to move, and how fast, to knock the blade out of Daniel's hand. He'd already laid his plan of attack out in his mind.
It never occurred to him that Daniel might swing that scalpel at him. Or that his eyes would flash when he did it.
The shock of seeing Daniel's eyes glow, even briefly, slowed his reactions. He dodged at the last second, far enough and fast enough to keep Daniel from sinking the blade in his chest, but catching a nasty gash on his upper arm. Shock and adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain, and his eyes stayed focused on the suddenly blood-covered blade descending toward the inside of Daniel's left arm at an alarming speed.
"No you don't!" Jack shouted as he jumped forward. A well-placed blow to the inside of Daniel's wrist loosened his grip on the scalpel and sent it flying.
Daniel turned to make a grab for it, and Jack took advantage of his distraction. In one quick motion, he stepped around Daniel and wrapped both of his arms around him from behind, trapping his arms at his sides and his hands in front of his chest. He closed his fingers around Daniel's wrists, holding them tightly enough to restrain him without hurting him.
All of Daniel's fear, confusion, pain and desperation exploded from him in an ear-splitting, inhuman scream that froze Jack's blood in his veins.
He closed his eyes against the sound for the briefest of heartbeats, then refocused on the task at hand and leaned forward until his mouth was only inches from Daniel's ear. "Easy, Daniel," he whispered. "I'm right here. I've got you." He was rubbing small circles on the backs of Daniel's hands with his thumbs; he could only hope it was helping Daniel even half as much as it was helping him. "I'm not leaving you."
"Jack!"
"It's okay, Daniel." There was a checklist in his mind, running over and over again, like a mantra. He didn't know where it was coming from, but it seemed to be working - for both of them. Daniel was far from calm, but he was starting to show signs of winding down.
Say his name. Reassure him. Keep him grounded. Say his name. Reassure him …
"You're safe, Daniel. We both are."
"She took him! I can't find him. I can't … Jack!"
"I'm here," Jack insisted. "I'm right here."
"She … couldn't stop her. Couldn't …" Daniel's voice was shattered, broken by increasingly desperate gasps. "Fight. Scream. Move. Can't breathe. I can't breathe!"
Jack tightened his hold as Daniel started to crumple.
"Stop her!"
With that, Daniel's knees finally buckled and he collapsed completely in Jack's arms. Jack went down with him, slowly, controlling their descent until they were both on their knees on the floor. Daniel turned and buried his face in Jack's shirt, clutching at it frantically, like a drowning man struggling to grip a lifeline.
"I couldn't stop her!" Daniel cried out. "I couldn't … I … I didn't even try!"
Jack ran his fingers through the long hair soothingly and pulled Daniel closer to him, until he felt the top of Daniel's head come to rest against the crook of his shoulder. "You did, Daniel. You fought like hell. She almost killed you."
"I have to go … go after her …"
Jack narrowed his eyes as hatred for Hathor burned through his veins. Had she gotten into his mind that deeply, destroyed him so completely, that he'd try to follow her? "You're not going anywhere. Not after all this."
"She's coming back. Coming back …"
"No, she's not. We won't let her." He tightened his arms around Daniel once more. "I won't let her."
"I'm sorry." Daniel sobbed against his chest, shoulders heaving under Jack's hands, the hands that were so tightly fisted in his shirt trembling, breath catching and hitching in his throat. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, Danny," Jack assured him as he laid his cheek against the top of Daniel's head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Jack heard a sound from across the infirmary and looked up. Janet and Mackenzie were both gone, but Sam and Teal'c had come into the infirmary at some point and were standing near the door. He didn't know where they'd come from or how long they'd been there, and he didn't care. Sam's face was streaked with tears despite the anger in her eyes, and Teal'c looked like he wanted to kill something which, all things considered, he probably did. It was a feeling that Jack knew very well.
"Have to go …"
"You're ours." Even though he'd whispered the words , he knew that Sam and Teal'c heard him, because they both nodded in agreement. "She can't have you."
"He pleases us greatly, our beloved. He is ours, for now and always."
Jack closed his eyes and buried his face in Daniel's hair.
Part Four
Chapter Five
Jack figured that it would be obvious rather quickly whether Daniel was waking up with a full load of memories or without, and Daniel didn't disappoint him. When he first opened his eyes, he blinked at Jack sleepily, obviously still feeling the lingering effects of the sedative. His expression said only, 'what happened?' and his eyes held only confusion. Thankfully there was none of the horror, fear and shame that had filled them in the storeroom.
Without memories it was, then.
Daniel continued to blink, and Jack forced himself to smile at him. It was an imitation of their usual infirmary greeting, a bit of fake familiarity, but even so it gave him some small measure of comfort. So long as Daniel didn't remember what had happened, he could pretend that he didn't, either. And for those few moments, however long they would last, he would enjoy it.
Finally, Daniel raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat, and smiled back. "What happened?"
"You're hurt," he said simply. Normally, he'd start to fill in all the mission details that Daniel was waking up without, but he wasn't going to do that. If Daniel remembered, it would be just because he did; he wouldn't have any part in helping him.
Daniel took a second to mentally inspect himself. Jack could see him thinking, running through everything in his mind, almost like he had a checklist of all the different signals he was getting from his body and what they might mean. Daniel winced, and Jack knew that he'd identified the main source of his pain.
"I hurt my back and bruised some ribs?"
Jack shook his head. "Nah," he answered. "You hurt your back and broke some ribs. What you bruised is a couple of organs."
"Which ones?"
"One kidney and your spleen, apparently. Whatever that is."
Daniel blinked, wrinkled his forehead, and tried again. "Surgery?" He either ignored or didn't register exactly what the words 'bruised organs' implied, because he tried to push himself up straighter in the bed. He grimaced, seemed to realize that moving was a bad idea, and laid his head back against the pillow.
"No," Jack said. "She says it's not that bad."
"Oh, that's good."
Daniel was squirming around on the mattress slightly, and it was obvious he was having problems finding a comfortable position. Jack resisted the urge to reach out and help him sit up, but he did pick up the bed control and raise the head of it ever-so-slightly. Daniel smiled at him in gratitude, but he couldn't muster up the energy to return it.
A few moments passed in silence. He glanced around the room nervously, wondering how much longer it would be before Janet showed up to examine Daniel and rescue him from the awkwardness. He was beginning to doubt that he'd be able to play at normal much longer, and it really ate at him just how right she'd been about that.
He knew that he should be taking comfort from the fact that Daniel had no idea what had happened to him, but he couldn't. Instead of making it easier for him to ignore the memories that had come back in the storeroom - along with a whole slew of new ones that had been filtering in slowly since then - the trusting and unworried expression on Daniel's face made Jack's burden that much heavier.
He wanted to keep Daniel blissfully ignorant for as long as possible, but at the same time, he knew he wasn't going to be able to do it forever. It wouldn't be long before the memories slammed back into place in his mind, before he had to watch Daniel suffer another flashback like the one he'd had in the locker room. And when that happened, if things followed the same pattern they'd been following, Daniel was going to fall, and he was going to fall hard.
Jack worried that he wouldn't be able to catch him when it happened, but more than that, he worried that once Daniel's memories returned, he wasn't even going to let him try.
"So."
He turned back toward the sound of Daniel's voice, and he realized that while he'd been lost in his thoughts, Daniel had been watching him, studying him, looking for context for the emotions that were flashing across his face. Obviously, Daniel couldn't explain why he saw what he did in Jack's eyes, but it was equally obvious that he knew he was seeing it.
"You going to tell me how I got hurt?"
He shook his head slowly and lowered his eyes. "No," he admitted softly. "I'm not."
Daniel nodded carefully. After a few more moments of silence, Jack looked up to see Daniel still watching him.
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse," he said.
"And you don't think I can handle knowing?" Daniel's voice was calm and even, but there was an indignant, almost injured, edge to it that Jack picked up on immediately.
"I know you can't," he said. "And I know you're better off not knowing."
"And how do you 'know' that, Jack?" No, that tone wasn't the tone of voice Daniel used when he was injured. It was the one he used when he was insulted. He was honestly getting mad at Jack for thinking he couldn't deal with what had happened? He was going to get pissy at Jack for protecting him?
He pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the end of the bed.
Every time he thought he had those stupid irrational emotions of his under control, they jumped right back up and smacked him in the face. The anger and fear that were flooding through him - anger at what had happened, fear of what Daniel would do when he remembered - were making it impossible for him to concentrate. He was dangerously close to losing his temper again, and he couldn't let that happen, because he knew he'd aim it at Daniel and he'd end up saying a whole lot of things they'd both regret. He had to be the calm one, he had to be the one in control, and no matter how much Daniel fought him on it, that's what he was going to be.
His decision made, he took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest, and finally met Daniel's eyes.
"Because I've been watching you 'handle' it all day," he said evenly. "And you're not doing so hot. Neither am I." He shrugged, dropped his arms, and walked back to the chair. "We've got a little alien influence going on right now, both of us. And it's screwing with our emotions. So sue me for trying to spare you that for a little longer."
Daniel titled his head in surprised confusion, and his eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.
"I told you it was bad," Jack said.
A few more seconds of silence passed while Jack kept glancing around the infirmary. Where the hell was Janet?
"No matter how bad it is," Daniel said softly, "I deserve to know what happened to me."
Jack nodded his head reluctantly. "You do," he admitted. "And you will. If there's one thing I do know, it's that it's all going to come back to you. Always has before." He sat back down in the chair, leaned forward, and put his elbows on his knees. "But you're not going to hear it from me."
"Then who am I going to hear it from?"
He sighed deeply, and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the stiffness and fatigue that he felt. "If I had anything to say about it, no one. But since I don't get a say … probably Dr. Mackenzie."
Daniel's eyes widened, and he looked down at his right arm for the first time since he'd woke up. Specifically, he looked at his wrist. And the six inch wide bright white bandage that encircled it.
Oh, shit. How the hell had he forgotten about that?
"So, this is …" Daniel swallowed hard, and when he looked up at Jack, his eyes were full of emotion. "This is what it looks like, isn't it?"
Jack looked around frantically for Janet once more, but she was nowhere to be seen. He stood up and reached out in what he hoped was a reassuring and calming gesture. "Daniel, listen to me …"
"What'd I do?" Daniel whispered. In his eyes, Jack saw the rising tide of fear, horror and shame, mixed with growing swirl of confusion. He'd lifted his arm up from the bed slightly and was turning it over, staring at it as though he thought that the bandages themselves would give him the answers his face said he so desperately needed. He was shaking when he looked at Jack again.
"What did I do?!"
"Nothing," Jack insisted. He gripped Daniel's shoulder tightly in his hand, hoping that the strength of his conviction would be enough to convince Daniel that what he was saying was true. "You didn't do anything, do you hear me? It wasn't you."
"Wasn't me?" Daniel's disbelief was audible. "What, someone else slit my wrist?"
"It's not like that."
"Not like what?" His voice was cracking and breaking like a teenage boy's, he was shaking like a five-year-old in the snow, and his eyes were darting around the room looking for answers he was never going to find. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off head-first, and he was going to do it soon if Jack couldn't talk him down. "My wrist is bandaged, I can feel the stitches pulling, I don't remember what happened, and you're telling me that I have to talk to a shrink!"
Daniel grabbed at the bandages with his left hand, trying to pull them off so he could see what was underneath. That was when Jack realized that memories or no, Daniel still had that damn drug in his system. His emotions were nowhere near rational at that moment.
"Stop, Daniel," he said, as calmly as he could manage. When he didn't listen, Jack wrapped his fingers gently around Daniel's arms and pushed them down. "I said stop."
"Jack …"
There was so much in that name - so much pain, terror, shock, desperation. It was clear in his voice, plain on his face, and impossible to ignore in his eyes. It took every ounce of strength Jack had to not cave in to it, to not give Daniel the explanations that he wanted - no, needed - so badly. He deserved to know. He had every right in the world to know.
But no matter how much Jack believed that, he would not be the one to tell him. He couldn't be.
"Do you remember that alien influence thing I mentioned?"
Daniel nodded wordlessly.
"Well, this is what it does. All that stuff going through your mind right now? All those jumbled up feelings that you don't know where they're coming from or what they mean or why they're so strong?"
Another nod.
"Welcome to our wonderful new world."
"Permanent?" Daniel asked, so quietly that Jack barely heard him.
"No, it'll go away. It'll take a while, a lot longer than it should, if you ask me, but it will go away. It's already starting to. A little bit."
"What's it do?"
Jack sighed. He really wished that Daniel would start talking at normal volume again, but at least he was talking, and he wasn't screaming, and he seemed to be calming down, so he'd take what he could get.
"It messes with your head, screws with your emotions. Doc says it amplifies them." No way in hell was he telling him that its primary function was mind control. Down that road waited a ton of questions that he didn't want Daniel asking yet. "Instead of a little worried, you're panicking. Instead of a little scared, you're terrified. Instead of a little upset, you're seriously pissed. That kinda thing."
"And instead of a little depressed, I'm suicidal?"
Sometimes, he forgot just how damn smart Daniel was.
"So it was me."
"No," Jack argued, shaking his head. "It wasn't. You had no control over it. You had no idea what was going on, but now you do, and it's not gonna be that bad, right?" Daniel's eyes were fixed on the bandages around his wrist again. "Right? Hey! Look at me," he ordered. Once he knew that he had Daniel's undivided attention, he continued."It's not as bad as you're afraid it is, okay? Doc says you did it wrong, you didn't do any real damage, and that means you didn't really want to do it at all."
Story of your life right now, isn't it? I'd give anything to take it all away.
"You just … you couldn't control it. You couldn't stop it from happening, but you fought it."
You fought like hell, Danny. If you only knew how hard you fought her.
Jack took a deep breath and settled on his hip on the edge of the bed. "There's a lot of that going around right now. Whole lot of guys doing and saying things they don't mean. You're no different."
Just don't hate me for what I did and said to you. Please.
The corners of Daniel's lips turned up just the smallest bit in what Jack was sure would have been a smile if he'd had either the energy or the mindset for it.
"What?" Jack asked.
"Just thinking. Wondering which of those three reactions you mentioned is you."
There was almost a twinkle in his eye when he said it, and Jack had to smile back. There was no doubt that their friendship was going to face a lot of strain in the coming days, hit a whole lot of bumps in the road. There was also no doubt that the blame for all of it rested squarely on Jack's shoulders. But for as long as this illusion of normalcy would last, as long as he could hold Daniel's trust, he'd take whatever he could get.
"What?" he asked with a shrug. "I've got such a cheerful and sunny disposition."
The expression on Daniel's face was changing again, relaxing a bit and shifting from fear into curiosity. Normally, it would have made Jack breathe easier, because it was a sign that Daniel was already getting back to normal. But in his current state of mind, that natural curiosity of his was a landmine just waiting to be stepped on.
"Why?" he asked. He hadn't looked away from Jack yet, but it was obvious that he wanted to, very badly. He was forcing himself to look at him. "I mean, did I say anything, or write a note? Did I say why?"
It was Jack who finally broke the connection. He turned to stare at the empty wall across the infirmary while nodding his head slowly. "Yeah, you did."
"But you're not going to tell me?" Daniel ventured.
"No, I'm not."
He could feel Daniel watching him again, but he wouldn't turn around. He knew there was too much written on his face, too many answers, and he couldn't stand the thought of Daniel seeing them.
"I told you."
Jack nodded silently.
"I … I did it in front of you." Jack turned back slowly but gave no indication of the thoughts going through his mind. "Didn't I?" Daniel pressed. "That's why you're so upset, why you won't tell me. I did it in front of you, and I told you why."
Daniel, of all people, would understand how hard that would be for him to deal with. But without his memories, he couldn't understand why. And that 'why' was another little piece of trivia that he wasn't going to be sharing with anyone any time soon. Jack took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
Daniel stared back at him, slack-jawed in shock. "I can't believe I would … God, Jack, I'm so sorry."
"No," he answered, shaking his head as he did. "Don't you apologize for it. It wasn't you."
"But …"
"No," he repeated, silencing Daniel with the wave of his finger. "Look, this is something that you need to understand, and you need to get your head wrapped around it right now. What you did was not your fault. What happened to you was not your fault. You did not do anything wrong, and I don't blame you for any of it. No one blames you. Do you hear me?"
"How am I supposed to believe that when I don't even know what happened?"
"You don't have to know. You trust me, right? And I'm telling you that it's not your fault. I'm also telling you that when all those memories locked up in that brain of yours start coming back … no matter what you see, no matter what you feel, I want you to remember one thing."
"What's that?"
"I would never hurt you," Jack said, squeezing Daniel's arm for emphasis. "Do you hear me? Never. Can you remember that?"
"Of course."
"No, Daniel, I mean it. This is important. I need you to know that I would never hurt you, and I'd give my life to protect you from anyone who did."
"I know that, Jack." Daniel tilted his head slightly on the pillow and looked up at him, concern written plainly in his eyes. "Are you all right? Because you're kind of freaking me out right now."
He let go his hold on Daniel's arms, stood up from the bed, and turned away, wiping absently as his nose as he did. "Yeah, I'm … it's those messed up emotions. They've been screwing with me all day." He looked back at Daniel and flashed a quick, insecure smile.
Daniel sank back into his pillow and closed his eyes. "If you say so, Jack."
"What about you? You okay?"
"Tired," Daniel answered as he shifted on the bed, obviously trying to get comfortable. "Back hurts."
"That's to be expected. There's still a bit of sedative in your system, I'm sure, and you've got a very large, deep bruise on your back. It's going to hurt for a while."
Janet's voice took Jack by surprise, and he shot her a sidelong glance as she walked past him. The expression on her face said that she'd been standing just within earshot the entire time he and Daniel had been talking, and she'd chosen her entrance very carefully. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she smiled at him indulgently. She'd known he still didn't have control of his emotions, and she'd let him stand there and say all those sappy, touchy-feely things without stopping him. She did it on purpose.
Damn woman.
Daniel looked back and forth between them, obviously aware that there was something going on but having no idea what it was. The silence in the room was growing awkward, even more awkward than the conversation that had just taken place. Jack had no idea how to fill it, and he hated that. Janet smiled at them and took immediate control of both the situation and the flow of conversation.
"Colonel O'Neill, if you could excuse us? I need to examine my patient."
Jack stepped forward, his head inclined ever-so-slightly in reluctant understanding. "I'll be back later," he said to Daniel as he chucked him lightly on the arm. "Take it easy, okay?"
"Sure. See ya."
He looked over at Janet and gave her a quick, jerky nod. "Doctor Fraiser," he said coolly. "I'll be in your office."
"Of course you will, Colonel." That smile of hers was really starting to get on his already frayed and slightly irrational nerves. "Of course you will."
He didn't even let her get the door closed before he started in on her.
"That was an absolute load of crap, Doc. Not to mention a lousy thing to do to somebody. You stood there and listened to us? And you couldn't have interrupted?"
She walked across to her desk and settled in her chair, but the smile on her face wasn't one of victory. It was too uncertain for that. "Whether or not you wanted to say it, Colonel, he needed to hear it, and he needed to hear it from you. You know that. What you just told him might be the difference between him being able to deal with the memories when they return and him shutting down again."
Jack flopped bonelessly in the chair across from her with a sigh, then massaged his forehead with his fingers. She was right, and he did know it. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
"So how is he?"
Janet's face relaxed until she was wearing her natural, reassuring smile. "He's healing. Sleeping, but not sedated. I'm already watching him for reactions with the first sedative, and if I'd had a choice about using that, I wouldn't have. I won't do it again unless there's absolutely no other option. I gave him some Tylenol for his back, but I'm worried about giving him anything stronger. Unknown alien psychotropics aren't exactly something I want to go mixing morphine with. He's going to be in quite a bit of pain for the next few days, and I hate it, but until I believe that drug's completely gone, there's nothing else I can do."
He knew she was right about that, too, but he hated it just as much as she did, if not more. Even under normal circumstances, a hurting Daniel was a pissy Daniel, and with everything else that was going on … no one was going to be happy for the next few days.
"Did you tell … ?"
"No," she answered abruptly. "I didn't. Firstly, it isn't my place to do that, because I wasn't there. If it's anyone's, it's yours."
Jack shook his head in denial.
"And secondly, I honestly do believe that forcing the memories on him will do more harm than good. Think about how hard it is for you, dealing with the small pieces that are coming back a bit at a time. Could you imagine what it would be like to get slammed by all of them at the same time? How painful and overwhelming would it be to process them all at once?"
He tilted his head in confusion. "Why do you think it'd be like that?"
She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk. "I've been thinking about how he's reacting, and I'm starting to suspect that it's not the memories that are giving him the problems, but how many of them there are. I don't think he's been getting little pieces here and there, like you and the general have been. I think he's being triggered, and he's getting everything at the same time, and I think he has been all along. And he's not just remembering it; he's reliving it."
"The panic attack in the hallway with Siler," Jack said in understanding. If there was one thing he could relate to, it was reliving trauma. He'd been an expert at it himself not that long ago. "The flashback in the locker room. The catatonic thing, the headache, the passing out."
Janet nodded. "Exactly."
"You're talking full-blown PTSD, aren't you?"
"Maybe. It also might be ASD, or it might be nothing. But it's entirely possible, Colonel. Would you honestly be all that surprised?"
He leaned forward on his knees, scrubbed his hands through his hair, then smacked his hands against his thighs and slumped back in the chair again.
"So what do we do? How do we help him?"
"First, we let Dr. Mackenzie make an official diagnosis. Until then, we watch him, give him all the support we can, and wait and see what happens."
He hated waiting. He hated it even worse when he knew that there was something terrible just around the corner, ready to pounce. He hadn't remembered everything yet, and even though he knew what was coming, the thought of actually remembering what he'd seen, what he'd seen done to Daniel, chilled him to the bone. And all he was going to remember was watching it; Daniel was going to remember living it. Over and over again.
"Is he gonna make it through this, Doc?"
He didn't understand why he'd asked, because he'd never once, in the year and a half he'd known him, questioned Daniel's strength. But the situation was so far beyond the pale, and so much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, that he found himself suddenly doubting. It wasn't a matter of how strong Daniel was anymore; it was a matter of just how much his mind and body could handle.
"I don't know," she answered softly. "We're going to do everything we can to help him, of course, but there comes a point where it really all depends on him. I think he can, and I sincerely hope he does."
Everyone had something that they just couldn't deal with, couldn't process, couldn't make it past. What if the trigger/shutdown cycle was just the way it was going to be? What if flipping between amnesia and panic was Daniel's new default setting? What if that bitch had dragged him down so far that he couldn't climb back out again? Everyone had a breaking point, didn't they?
What if this was Daniel's?
Chapter Six
He felt almost human.
The memories had started back up again once Daniel was sleeping, but thankfully they'd slowed down, and he'd only had twelve or so in the past six hours. He'd hadn't snapped at anyone in more than an hour, and he'd almost managed to make it through breakfast with Sam and Teal'c without falling back into the black pit that was his mind. Thankfully, the three times he had, they'd been able to coax him back out. They hadn't even seemed all that upset by it. He didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, that they not only seemed to expect him to zone out on them for no reason but that they'd apparently come up with some plan for dealing with him when he did.
So, after a bowl of oatmeal, two eggs, a piece of toast, half a pot of coffee, and a shower, he felt almost human again. And if he spent half an hour in the shower, standing under the steaming water, letting it run down his skin in scalding streams and scrubbing until his stomach was red and raw, well, no one but him knew he'd done it, right? So it didn't really count.
All that was left was his daily workout.
He usually worked out with Teal'c in the gym. Those Jaffa had a lot of great secrets that Teal'c had been more than open about sharing with them, in the hopes that they'd be more readily able to defend themselves against their enemy. There was something about working out with Teal'c, dodging and weaving and pounding on the punching bag with the practice staffs that Teal'c had made, that set his mind at ease. Working up a sweat by pretending to beat the crap out of a ghost was cathartic. But as much as he needed that, he knew that he couldn't be that far away from Daniel for that long.
So he'd settled for getting Fraiser's permission to run on one of the treadmills in the physical therapy room.
On the opposite side of the closed door at his back, Daniel was lying in an infirmary bed, having the first of what promised to be several sessions with Dr. Mackenzie. He was dreading his own session, which was coming up later in the day, but Daniel had to come first. In return for his promise to keep his mouth shut, Fraiser had let him stay in her office when she and Mackenzie had their initial consultation.
"He's repressing it," Fraiser had said. "He does have a concussion, but only a Grade One, so there's no cause for suspecting traumatic amnesia."
Of course he had a concussion. Did she have any idea how many times he'd been backhanded hard enough to fly across the room? How many times his head had been bounced off the wall, the floor, the headboard of the bed … ?
"So, the memories are there?" Mackenzie had questioned. "He just can't access them?"
Well, obviously the memories were there. Wasn't that kind of implied by the whole 'repressed memories' thing? Wouldn't it be a little hard to repress memories that didn't exist?
"He can, but not willingly. When they're forced on him, he reacts badly."
"Reacts badly," Jack mumbled to himself. He shook his head at the understatement and pushed the button on the control panel in front of him, increasing both his speed and incline. Panic attacks, catatonia, passing out without warning, trying to kill himself? "I'd hate to see your definition of 'falls completely apart,' Doc."
"How are they coming back? Is he being triggered?"
"I believe so, yes."
"Do we know what the trigger is?"
"No."
That was a lie, but to be fair to Fraiser, she didn't know she was lying. And to be fair to Jack, he hadn't known he was letting her lie when she said it. It wasn't until after he'd been running for fifteen minutes that he realized he knew what that trigger was. It wasn't that hard to figure out when he thought about it. The first time he'd flashed back had been after Sam told them who'd just left through the Stargate. The second time was after Jack had asked him what he remembered about her.
That snakebitch's name was all it took to send Daniel spiraling down, completely out of control.
"I'll handle him as carefully as I can, but if I should hit on it accidentally?"
"Colonel O'Neill and I will stay close."
Of course he would. Did Mackenzie really think he was going to leave Daniel alone with him for long? Did Fraiser really think he was going to leave Daniel alone with anyone?
"So he has no conscious memory of the rape itself? Or of the woman who raped him?"
"No, none."
"Is he aware of how he received his injuries?"
"He knows that something bad happened to him; he doesn't know what it was."
Jack stabbed at the speed button again. He hated himself for thinking it, but there were times that he caught himself envying Daniel's inability to remember what had happened. What he'd been through, what he'd seen, what he'd done, what he'd said …
Hathor pushing Daniel's arms above his head, holding them there, squeezing his wrists so hard that the bones ground against each other … Hathor leaning down, digging her teeth into his collarbone, lapping at the blood with her tongue …
He punched the control panel, barely noticed how fast he was already going, and closed his eyes.
Daniel, not moving … not moving … tears streaming down his face, eyes closed, head back, mouth open but no sound coming out … not moving, not screaming, not fighting …
He slammed his hand against the button with all of his strength.
"And the suicide attempt? Any memory of it at all?"
"No. He is aware of what he did, but he doesn't remember doing it."
The belt couldn't go any faster; the incline couldn't go any higher. But he kept running, pushing himself harder, ignoring the raised voices coming through the closed door behind him.
Daniel pushing the knife through his skin, dragging it up his arm, leaving it all behind … the blood running down, dripping to the floor, taking him away … "You promised."
He hadn't known what it meant.
"You promised."
He hadn't known then, hadn't remembered everything he'd said. The voices behind him were growing louder, more insistent, but he barely heard them.
"I can't do it again. I'd rather die. Help me."
Faster. He had to go faster.
"Please, Jack …"
"I can't. Don't ask me again, Daniel. I won't do it."
It wasn't fast enough. It would never be fast enough.
"Promise me, Jack."
"No!"
"Jack …"
It was right behind him. He could feel it breathing down his neck, whispering in his ear. Hell lived in his memory, and it would never let him go. It was going to catch him. It wouldn't let him run; it wouldn't let him hide. What had he said? What had he done?
"I can't live like this. Don't make me live like this. Please."
"She won't touch you again. I'll do it. I'll save you. I promise."
"God damn it!" He smacked the treadmill so hard that it rattled and shook beneath him. When the belt jerked to a stop, he sank to his knees and buried his head in his arms. "What did I do?" He was doubled over in pain both physical and mental, panting for breath, and the liquid running down his face, into and out of his eyes, wasn't just sweat.
"Damn it, Daniel, what did you make me do?"
"Help me, Jack."
"I won't do it!"
"Help me!"
"Daniel …"
"Jack! Help me! Jack!!"
That was no memory.
His pain was forgotten in a heartbeat, and he jumped to his feet, ran toward the door, and threw it open. He'd never moved so fast in his life, but it wasn't been fast enough. It would never be fast enough. He'd been wrong about hell living in his memory; it was standing right in front of him.
Daniel, dressed only in the pair of scrub bottoms that Janet had allowed him to wear for the interview, was standing in the middle of the infirmary, eyes filled with fear, shaking, gasping for breath.
Daniel, his unbuttoned uniform pants low on his hips, his glasses lost somewhere in the tangled mess of sheets, lying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling, not moving, barely breathing …
He processed it as quickly as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. Daniel - his bare chest and back covered in bruises, scratches and bite marks, the bruise above his hip black against the paleness of his skin, his shoulders heaving with every panicked breath that he drew. The harsh fluorescent lights glinted off the blade of a scalpel he held tightly in his hand, and blood from his ripped out IV streaked down the inside of his arm.
The blood running down, dripping to the floor, taking him away …
"Dr. Jackson," he heard Mackenzie say gently. "Daniel. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."
"Don't touch me!" Daniel cried out. "Stay away from me! Jack!"
The past flew out of his mind as quickly as the present slammed into it, and he stepped forward.
"I'm right here, Daniel," he said carefully. "Right behind you. Turn around and look at me."
Daniel turned his head slowly, his eyes wide, terrified.
Jack took a deep breath and another step forward. "Right here, buddy. You see me?"
Daniel nodded his head uncertainly, but otherwise didn't move.
"Why don't you talk to me, Daniel? Put the knife down and talk to me."
"Have to stop her," Daniel whispered. "Can't let her."
"She's not here," he said. "She can't hurt you again."
Daniel shook his head slowly. "No, she's here. I can hear her. I can … smell her. Feel her." His eyes closed and he shuddered, hunching his shoulders forward as he pressed the heel of his empty hand against his temple. "I can hear her."
"Dr. Jackson, I want you back in that bed."
Jack hadn't even realized that Janet was walking up behind Daniel until that moment. Until she opened her mouth and said something she'd said a hundred times before. Until Daniel heard a woman authoritatively ordering him back into bed, and his head snapped up. Until Daniel spun around, eyes wild, frantic, desperate, and struck out at her, swinging blindly with both his fist and the scalpel. He couldn't have had any idea what - who - he was aiming at, or he'd never have done it.
"No!"
Jack's cry blended with Daniel's - one a denial, one a plea.
Janet wasn't close enough to Daniel for him to be able to hit her, but she jumped back out of reflex. She lost her balance, tripped and fell to the floor with a cry. Dr. Mackenzie dashed toward her and knelt at her side to make certain that she wasn't hurt. Jack bolted forward and jumped in front of Daniel, putting himself squarely between him and Janet. He raised his hands in front of him, palms turned out, placating.
"Hey," he said. "Look at me, Daniel."
Daniel's eyes darted frantically around the room, on the lookout for the next threat, either real or imagined. "Where'd she go?" he asked breathlessly. "She's coming back."
"No, she's not. Now look at me."
He could hear Janet and Mackenzie talking behind him, whispering to each other frantically as Mackenzie helped her to her feet, and he didn't like what he was hearing at all. Words like 'danger to himself,' 'violently unstable,' and 'requires constant supervision' were not what he needed to hear at that moment, even mixed as they were with Janet's 'wasn't thinking,' 'I know better,' and 'not his fault.'
"We have to go," Daniel said urgently. "This is our chance, but we have to hurry."
Jack took a careful, measured step forward, shaking his head in denial and reaching for Daniel at the same time. He didn't know if Janet and Mackenzie were still behind him, didn't know if they were hearing what he said, and didn't particularly care. If he was about to cost them both a hundred sessions with Mackenzie, then so be it. He had to talk Daniel out of doing what he was about to do.
"We don't have to do that now, Daniel. It's over."
Daniel was moving toward him, one slow, hesitant step at a time, his face a combination of certainty, trust and almost innocent hope. It cut Jack to the core to see it. "It's the only way out." Daniel cocked his head to the side, and his eyes widened. "You remember, don't you, Jack? You promised."
He nodded his head reluctantly. "I remember," he admitted. "But she's gone. We got out, and you're safe. That promise I made, Daniel …" He swallowed hard and took another step. He was close enough to Daniel to touch his arm, almost close enough to grab the scalpel. For a heartbeat, the scene in the storeroom flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. "We don't need it anymore."
Daniel took a nervous step back, and Jack saw the tears welling in his eyes. "She took you," Daniel whispered. "She took you away. And you didn't come back."
"I know."
"She got you, didn't she? She made you into one of them."
Jack shook his head vehemently. "No, she didn't. She tried, but Carter and Teal'c, Doc Fraiser, they found me. They saved me, Daniel. I'm okay."
Daniel's eyes narrowed, and the trust that he'd shown before disappeared. He was backing away, closing himself off, hiding. "We're going to save each other," he said. "We promised."
"We don't have to," Jack repeated. The look on Daniel's face said that he wasn't hearing a word Jack was saying, but he couldn't give up. There was too much at stake. "Look at me, listen to me. We're already out. That wasn't Hathor you just took a swing at; it was Janet Fraiser. You're not in that room anymore; you're in the infirmary. You're beat all to hell, you're hurt, you're bleeding all over the place, and you're not thinking straight."
"I have to save you," Daniel insisted. "Have to save everyone."
"Not anymore!" He didn't want to lose his temper, and he fought it with everything he had, but his frustration was quickly becoming too much to bear. "If you ever trusted me, Daniel, trust me now. We don't have to do this."
"I can stop her." He could see it coming, even before Daniel flipped the scalpel over in his hand and raised it in front of him.
"Don't you do this, Daniel."
"Have to save Jack." Daniel lifted his other arm, the one already covered in blood from the ripped out IV.
"Killing yourself won't save me!"
He expected Daniel to swipe the blade across his own wrist or up the inside of his own arm. He expected him to do something to hurt himself, and that's what he was prepared for. He'd already figured out where he needed to move, and how fast, to knock the blade out of Daniel's hand. He'd already laid his plan of attack out in his mind.
It never occurred to him that Daniel might swing that scalpel at him. Or that his eyes would flash when he did it.
The shock of seeing Daniel's eyes glow, even briefly, slowed his reactions. He dodged at the last second, far enough and fast enough to keep Daniel from sinking the blade in his chest, but catching a nasty gash on his upper arm. Shock and adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain, and his eyes stayed focused on the suddenly blood-covered blade descending toward the inside of Daniel's left arm at an alarming speed.
"No you don't!" Jack shouted as he jumped forward. A well-placed blow to the inside of Daniel's wrist loosened his grip on the scalpel and sent it flying.
Daniel turned to make a grab for it, and Jack took advantage of his distraction. In one quick motion, he stepped around Daniel and wrapped both of his arms around him from behind, trapping his arms at his sides and his hands in front of his chest. He closed his fingers around Daniel's wrists, holding them tightly enough to restrain him without hurting him.
All of Daniel's fear, confusion, pain and desperation exploded from him in an ear-splitting, inhuman scream that froze Jack's blood in his veins.
He closed his eyes against the sound for the briefest of heartbeats, then refocused on the task at hand and leaned forward until his mouth was only inches from Daniel's ear. "Easy, Daniel," he whispered. "I'm right here. I've got you." He was rubbing small circles on the backs of Daniel's hands with his thumbs; he could only hope it was helping Daniel even half as much as it was helping him. "I'm not leaving you."
"Jack!"
"It's okay, Daniel." There was a checklist in his mind, running over and over again, like a mantra. He didn't know where it was coming from, but it seemed to be working - for both of them. Daniel was far from calm, but he was starting to show signs of winding down.
Say his name. Reassure him. Keep him grounded. Say his name. Reassure him …
"You're safe, Daniel. We both are."
"She took him! I can't find him. I can't … Jack!"
"I'm here," Jack insisted. "I'm right here."
"She … couldn't stop her. Couldn't …" Daniel's voice was shattered, broken by increasingly desperate gasps. "Fight. Scream. Move. Can't breathe. I can't breathe!"
Jack tightened his hold as Daniel started to crumple.
"Stop her!"
With that, Daniel's knees finally buckled and he collapsed completely in Jack's arms. Jack went down with him, slowly, controlling their descent until they were both on their knees on the floor. Daniel turned and buried his face in Jack's shirt, clutching at it frantically, like a drowning man struggling to grip a lifeline.
"I couldn't stop her!" Daniel cried out. "I couldn't … I … I didn't even try!"
Jack ran his fingers through the long hair soothingly and pulled Daniel closer to him, until he felt the top of Daniel's head come to rest against the crook of his shoulder. "You did, Daniel. You fought like hell. She almost killed you."
"I have to go … go after her …"
Jack narrowed his eyes as hatred for Hathor burned through his veins. Had she gotten into his mind that deeply, destroyed him so completely, that he'd try to follow her? "You're not going anywhere. Not after all this."
"She's coming back. Coming back …"
"No, she's not. We won't let her." He tightened his arms around Daniel once more. "I won't let her."
"I'm sorry." Daniel sobbed against his chest, shoulders heaving under Jack's hands, the hands that were so tightly fisted in his shirt trembling, breath catching and hitching in his throat. "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, Danny," Jack assured him as he laid his cheek against the top of Daniel's head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Jack heard a sound from across the infirmary and looked up. Janet and Mackenzie were both gone, but Sam and Teal'c had come into the infirmary at some point and were standing near the door. He didn't know where they'd come from or how long they'd been there, and he didn't care. Sam's face was streaked with tears despite the anger in her eyes, and Teal'c looked like he wanted to kill something which, all things considered, he probably did. It was a feeling that Jack knew very well.
"Have to go …"
"You're ours." Even though he'd whispered the words , he knew that Sam and Teal'c heard him, because they both nodded in agreement. "She can't have you."
"He pleases us greatly, our beloved. He is ours, for now and always."
Jack closed his eyes and buried his face in Daniel's hair.
Part Four