The glow from the desk light in Daniel’s office pooled over a paper-strewn surface and an empty chair. His lab had been similarly unoccupied. He didn't have his head snuggled up gossiping with Carter, rather to the major's disappointment. And Teal'c meditated in quiet solitude.

So he must have been lured once again by the obsession that had haunted his two weeks back at the Mountain.

Gently, Jack turned the knob, pleased by the silent movement that rewarded him. He opened the door just far enough to permit his lean body to slide through into the darkened conference room.

Bingo.

The lights from the Gateroom below outlined the edges of the long table and padded chairs, emphasizing the dark silhouette of Daniel's body. The archaeologist stood motionless, gazing down at the inactive Gate, his elongated shadow black and harsh across the wooden surface of the table.

"Hey?" He kept his voice quiet and questioning.

After a moment, Daniel responded without turning his head. "Hey, Jack." 

Jack moved slowly to stand just behind the other man’s shoulder, letting his gaze parallel Daniel's. The Gateroom was obviously stood down, lights low, personnel at minimum. The Gate itself looked deceptively innocuous.

"I just talked to Streager. You're good."

The curve of Daniel's cheek twitched in response to that tight little smile so characteristic of the younger man. "Yes. Thanks to you beating me up so regularly over the last few months."

Jack grinned and moved closer, letting his right side lean against the warmth of Daniel's body. "Hey, you got to do some beating of your own, as I recall."

Daniel turned his head, meeting his partner's eyes. "Now and then. And yes, I'm now certified to rejoin SG-1, pending completion of the last of the paperwork." He turned back to stare down at the Gate. "Cleared to go through the Gate."

"So… this is good, right?"

Silently, Daniel nodded.

"Care to tell me why we're not at O'Malley's celebrating, instead of standing here in the dark, contemplating the Zen of the Stargate?"

That got him a smile. "The 'Zen of the Stargate'? Just what have you been reading while I've been away, Jack?"

Jack nudged Daniel's shoulder with his own. "You know very well what I've been reading. You gave me most of it."

"You mean you actually read that stuff?" The smile widened. "Or did you just use it to disguise the latest issues of American Fisherman?"

Jack slipped his arm around Daniel's shoulders, pulling him gently around the table and toward the door. "I'll never confess."

Shaking his head, Daniel allowed himself to be guided out of the room.

"C'mon. I've got Carter and Teal'c heading to O'Malley's. If we don't get there fast enough, Teal'c will eat all the steaks."

Daniel smiled fondly as Sam waved her fork in the air in accompaniment to her enthusiastic chatter. He loved watching her hold forth on her beloved physics, knowing very well that her audience—usually including himself—was left completely in the dark about whatever got her so excited. She didn’t really seem to care whether they kept up with her or not.

He could identify with that feeling. He ruefully acknowledged that he’d been guilty of the occasional baffling peroration himself.

At least Jack hadn’t shut her down yet.

Actually, Jack had other concerns at the moment. Daniel could almost feel the pressure of Jack’s stare against the side of his head. Knew the warmth of his ears wasn’t due only to the heat radiating from the restaurant’s open fireplace. And he knew Jack suspected all wasn’t well.

Jack was right.

For two weeks, he’d been going through recertification—medicals, physical training, weapons certification, paperwork up to his ears. Here they were celebrating the completion of that process.

In every way, he should be ready to step back into his place at the SGC and on his team. In every way.

Except he knew he wasn’t ready. Knew he hadn’t slain all the demons that had driven him away all those months ago. There remained one gigantic, hydra-headed dragon for him to defeat. And he wasn’t at all sure he was ready for that battle.

It was ridiculous, really. How could he have this problem? The Stargate had been the avenue to the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. Dreams he hadn’t even known enough to realize he’d had. Yes, there’d been injury, shock, pain on the other side. But there’d also been intensely rich encounters and discoveries. Enlightenment beyond his most grandiose imaginings.

How could one disastrous experience wipe out all the delights he’d found?

And yet, it had. He’d spent hours staring at the Gate, feeling shivers of apprehension reaching from his gut to his toes. Every time the Stargate started turning, he felt the tightness of panic in his throat.

His team was making one final trip without him; he was scheduled to rejoin them on their next mission.

And he was terrified. Not sure he’d be able to set his feet on that damned ramp and fling himself into the questionable mercy of an unknown universe.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he needed more time. More distance. Or maybe he’d been away too long. He’d had months to allow the dreadful outcome of his last Gate voyage to ferment in his memory.

“Daniel? You with us, buddy?”

Jack’s soft query jerked him from his pointlessly circular thoughts.

He smiled at his partner, knowing the expression didn’t ease the somber mood reflected in his eyes. “Sorry, Jack… Sam. Guess my mind wandered a bit.”

Sam assumed a look of offense. “Well, sorry I put you to sleep.”

This time his smile was genuine. “You know better. Besides, I’m sure I’ll get my revenge soon enough.”

Amid mutual laughter, he was able to let the depressing thoughts slide. Tomorrow was tomorrow. Tonight was for companionship and relaxing with his dear friends.

The dragon would wait.

Deliciously languid, glowing with the residual heat of recent indulgence, Jack pulled Daniel’s heavy body closer, snuffling happily in damp, sweaty hair.

“Mmmm,” his partner murmured. “Nice.”

“Just nice?”

“Ummmm… Spectacular?”

Jack chuckled, enjoying the hand lazily stroking his bare flank. “You falling asleep on me, Doctor Jackson?”

“Mmmmmaybe…”

Jack tightened his hold, shaking the other man slightly.

“Not just yet, Danny. C’mon. Wake up.”

“Jack!” Now the voice was cranky, though definitely more awake.

“Just for a minute, buddy. Just need to talk about something.”

He felt Daniel’s body stiffen, then his partner pulled away, sitting up to stare down at him.

“Talk? About what?” He could hear the apprehension in the warm voice.

“You know about what. That thing that has you waking in a panic a half dozen times each night. Whatever’s got you brooding in the conference room ten hours a day.”

“I don’t…! Not ten hours!”

“Okay, maybe not ten hours. But there’s something bothering you, Danny, and I think we need to talk about it.”

Daniel turned to stare out the window at the darkened sky.

“What makes you think there’s anything bothering me?”

“C’mon, Daniel. Over the last few months, I figure I’ve earned myself an advanced degree in ‘Daniel Jackson.’ I’m getting pretty familiar with this sort of thing. You weren’t having nightmares… until you came home. You stare at that Gate like you expect ol’ Ra himself to come through it.”

For a long moment, Daniel didn’t move. Finally, he turned back, gazed down into Jack’s face for a few moments, then gently lowered himself, once again pillowing his head on his lover’s chest.

“Did have.”

“Have what?”

“Did have nightmares. At first.”

“You mean, right after…? Daniel, you’d have to have been Superman not to have nightmares. But they stopped.”

“Yes.”

“And now they’re back.”

“Not… not exactly.”

“Danny, don’t make me get out the crowbar. What ‘not exactly’?”

“Those dreams… They were all about… well, I guess you’d say they were all about just what you’d expect. Living parts of it over and over. Little left-over bits of horror. But with time, they faded. By the time you came to find me, I was mostly over them.”

“So, why’d they come back?”

“They didn’t.”

“Daniel!”

“They didn’t. This… these… They’re different.”

Jack pulled in a long breath, fighting for patience. For a man who could talk his way out of a solid concrete box, Daniel could be outrageously close-mouthed.

“All right,” he sighed. “Different. So…?”

Daniel pulled away and sat up, turning his back. “Now… Now I dream about not being able to do my job. About having a panic attack in the middle of…”

“Never gonna happen, buddy.”

“Could.”

“Nope. Not you.”

Twisting around to stare down at him, Daniel frowned. “Jack… A lot’s happened since the last time.”

“Yup. But hundreds of outstanding mission performances tell me that, no matter what the hell happened last time, no matter how long it’s been, Doctor Daniel Jackson is still the best there is. You are not going to screw up, Daniel.”

“You can’t know that, Jack. If I freak out in the middle of…”

“You won’t.”

Damnit, Jack! I dream of you and Sam and Teal’c—dead! At my feet. My fault.”

Jack was shaking his head. “That’s just nerves, Danny. Not ever gonna happen.”

Daniel scowled down at him for a long moment, then dropped his chin and sighed. Carefully, he lowered himself back onto Jack’s chest.

“May not matter,” he whispered, voice dark with dejection.

“Not matter?”

“May never get that far. May never get past… the other thing.”

“What other thing, Daniel?” Jack insisted.

“The Gate,” he whispered.

“The Gate. I have to tell you, Daniel, I figured that much out already.”

A deep shudder shook Daniel’s body, and he squirmed closer to Jack, tucking his head tightly under the other man’s chin.

“I don’t think I can do it, Jack,” he breathed, his voice carrying virtually no sound.

“Do what?”

“Go… go through the Gate.”

Jack ran his fingers through Daniel’s shaggy hair, then let his hand rest, cupping his lover’s head. His other arm slid up to wrap around the man’s narrow waist.

“You’ve gone through that Gate a hundred times, Danny. Most of the time, you’ve had yourself a pretty good time.”

“One time I didn’t.”

Jack felt a tiny coldness settle in his heart.

“One time, Danny. A hundred other trips.”

“One time. The last time. I…”

“We talking phobia, here?”

Daniel’s tiny laugh owed nothing to humor. “You’ve got to admit, as aversion training not much could compete.”

“Yeah,” Jack whispered, rubbing his cheek against the hard curve of Daniel’s head. “Gotta admit.”

Daniel sighed. “Don’t worry, Jack. I… I’ll handle it. I’ll be fine when the time comes.”

Jack could hear the lack of conviction in Daniel’s soft voice.

“Right. When the time comes.”

He moved his hand to find Daniel’s, lacing his fingers between the other man’s.

“When the time comes. We’ll deal. Now…” He brought Daniel’s hand to his lips and dropped a soft kiss on the backs of his fingers. “Now you can sleep.”

But long after he felt Daniel’s body relax into slumber, Jack remained awake, staring at the ceiling.

They’d come so far, beaten so much. Just this one hurdle remained. But if Daniel couldn’t get over it, their team was finished. And maybe Daniel was as well.

Damn.

Jack hauled his pack onto his back, bouncing to settle the wide straps over his shoulders. He glanced at his teammates, nodding in silent approval as he saw they were ready to head for the Gate room.

“Right, kiddies. I’ll meet you at the ramp. Gotta make a stop on the way.”

Carter’s mouth twitched as she resisted a grin. “Yessir. Say ‘goodbye’ for me, too.”

“And for me, O’Neill.”

“Ha ha. I will.”

Scowling, he stalked out the locker room door and headed for Daniel’s office. Just when had he lost control of his team, anyway?

The scowl faded into a worried frown. He and Daniel hadn’t really resolved anything the previous evening, and he was more than concerned. Daniel was a great thinker, but that brilliance carried its own handicaps. He could think way too much, and sometimes about all the wrong things.

He knew Daniel, and he had no doubts at all about the man’s ability to put the disasters of the last year to rest. But he also knew that Daniel’s view of his own abilities and resilience didn’t match those of the people around him.

In a way, he wished they could have altered the schedule so he could take Daniel along on this milk run. Just sample collection, no sign of any human—or other—population, no construction or artifacts around the gate. Just pop over, fill little bottles and pop back. Perfect to get Danny through that Gate for the first time, get him over this panic thing.

He hoped, anyway.

But the mission had been set up before Daniel completed his recerts, and as he was currently still finishing up the tail end of the paperwork, this time he stayed home.

Jack stepped into the open doorway of Daniel’s office, leaning his heavy pack against the jamb and smiling at the sight of his partner, head lowered over his magnifier, two direct lights focused on whatever he had in that glass sandwich. He’d missed a lot over those months without Daniel’s presence at the SGC, but in a strange way, it was this bit he’d missed the most. This most characteristic of ‘Daniel’ activities.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Daniel’s head lifted sharply. “Jack!”

Jack moved into the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Good read?”

For an instant, Daniel’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. Then he laughed. “Just fascinating, if a bit fragmentary.”

“Good.” Jack hooked his fingers under the collar of the jacket Daniel had tossed over the chair near the door, then hefted the garment up and over the surveillance camera.

“Jaa-aaack…”

“Daaaan-iel. Just wanna say a proper goodbye.” He carefully maneuvered the encumbrance weighing on his back around the almost certainly fragile bits and pieces cluttering Daniel’s space, then reached to pull his lover to his feet.

“You behave, Doctor Jackson.” He cradled cheeks still morning-smooth between his palms.

“Jack. As if I ever…”

Jack’s kiss stopped the protest. After a moment’s resistance, Daniel yielded and leaned close, arms sliding around Jack to grip the straps on the pack.

“Be safe, Jack. Be careful,” he murmured against Jack’s lips.

“Always. And just to keep your mind away from anyone else’s tush…”

As Daniel sputtered in laughing protest, Jack shoved one hand into a pocket and pulled out a thick gold chain.

“Keep me safe, Dannyboy,” he whispered, sliding the chain over Daniel’s head.

“What…?” Daniel’s fingers found and explored the heavy gold ring that dangled from the chain. His startled eyes met Jack’s.

“Something for us to talk about when I get back,” Jack said, pulling reluctantly away from Daniel’s grasp. Gently, he pulled the chain from Daniel’s fingers and tucked it into the neckline of the younger man’s shirt. “And a bit of reading material for you while you wait for me.”

“But I…”

The ringing phone interrupted. Jack grinned and stole one final quick kiss as he reached for the misplaced jacket.

“That’ll be security, wondering why your camera’s on the fritz. Teal’c and Sam said to say ‘Goodbye.’”

Casting a scowling glance over his shoulder, Daniel reached for the phone.

Jack was chuckling as he headed toward the elevator and the Gate room, listening to the fading sound of Daniel’s voice as he tried to explain to security just how his jacket had come to interrupt their surveillance feed.

Having finally placated the irate security guard, Daniel dropped the handset back onto the phone base. He sat quietly, fingers absently outlining the hard curve of the ring through the knit of his t-shirt.

Jack was going. Through the Gate.

A shiver crept up his spine.

Cut it out, Jackson, he admonished sternly. They’ll be fine. Just fine.

He shook his head sharply, then pulled chain and ring out of his shirt and over his head. Leaning forward, he peered at the jewelry through his magnifier, shifting it slightly to bring the engraving along the inner curve into focus.

It was a plain, matte-finish gold band, beautiful in its simplicity and grace. And inside, tiny letters said simply, J loves D forever.

His fingers closed tightly over the precious bit of metal. Forever. Jack loves Daniel… forever.

Abruptly, he surged to his feet, tossing the chain back over his head and shoving the ring beneath his shirt as he ran out the door.

He hadn’t said good-bye.

Jack scanned the area as his two teammates stepped through the Gate behind him.

Grass.  Grass and trees. Oh, yippee.

“So, Carter. Where do you want to start?”

The major pivoted to survey the roughly circular meadow. It was nearly surrounded by forest, except for the area almost directly across from the other side of the Gate, which was bordered by a scrubby dirt-dusted cliff.

“How about starting easy?” she offered. “Let me get a few samples from the cliff, then we can head for the region noted on the flyover. That’s a couple of clicks to the south.”

“Fine by me. Teal’c, you wanna do a perimeter check? I’ll see Carter set up, then join you.”

“Very well, O’Neill.”

Jack followed Carter as she headed for the cliff. He kept his eyes busy, watching the tree line, the top of the cliff, the tall, unbroken grassy expanse. He saw nothing to arouse suspicion. But he had that crawly feeling on the back of his neck.

He activated his radio as Carter dropped her pack and began to pull out her equipment. “T? You spot anything?”

“Not as yet, O’Neill. I see nothing to suggest we are not alone here.”

“Keep your eyes peeled, big guy. Something here’s giving me the heeby jeebies.”

“Peeled, O’Neill?”

“Quit it, Teal’c! You know what I mean.”

“Indeed.”

Jack snorted. Nothing as much fun as a smart-ass Jaffa.

He stepped up to stand over the crouching major, aware of her activities, but still focused on their surroundings.

“Sir?”

He glanced down to see her looking over her shoulder, a puzzled expression on her pretty face.

“Did you hear something?”

“What, Carter? Where?”

“I don’t really know. I just thought…”

Jack was keying into Teal’c’s frequency as she spoke.

“Teal’c I don’t think…”

“Sir!”

“Wha…”

A blow to his head, leaving him staggering.

A whack to his ribs, leaving him crumpling toward the ground.

A near scream from his companion, and another jolt to his head, leaving him sinking into darkness.

To Daniel’s disappointment, he’d run into the Gate room just as Teal’c’s backside was swallowed by the event horizon. No chance to say goodbye. He’d wandered back to his office feeling heavy and sluggish. As if a weight were hanging over his head, poised to fall and crush him.

For several hours, he fought against his wandering concentration, trying to get something accomplished. As the clock tipped him into afternoon, he was still fruitlessly bending over the same fragments of parchment Jack had teased him about. Still, that heaviness pressed on him.

He knew he was being silly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Instead of heading for the commissary and a decent lunch, he found his feet drifting into the Gate control room just about when Jack was scheduled to check in. Just a few words. He just needed to hear Jack’s voice. Then the suspended disaster would vanish. He was sure.

The control room was lively with the normal activities of the techy side of the SGC. Walter and another technician Daniel hadn’t yet met were fussing over the computer terminals; along the back wall, Siler had some oversized piece of apparatus strewn in fragments over a table and the floor. The general, clipboard in hand, was engaged in some kind of serious discussion with the two new marines of the newly reconstituted SG-3.

Daniel felt an odd moment of surreal displacement. As if he’d wandered into a place not tied to reality, but mined from a dream. With a soft snort, he shook his head sharply and moved to the observation window. That was nonsense. Where else would he belong but here? It was just all those months away.

As he stared down at the Gate, he felt that tightening in his throat—some nameless fear welling up to choke him. But it wasn’t nameless. Not really. Or at least it wasn’t faceless.

The general’s sharp voice brought his attention back to the activities of the other occupants of the room.

“Give them ten more minutes, Sergeant.”

He stiffened, then glanced at his watch. Jack’s check-in was late. Ten minutes late.

No problem. Must just have gotten occupied with something.

No problem.

Really.

He was suddenly aware of his quickened breathing.

Yes. Problem. He could almost feel that pendulous mass over his head, wavering, ready to fall at a breath.

They were in trouble. He knew it.

“General?” He moved closer to Hammond, gaze fixed on the older man’s concerned face.

“Doctor Jackson.” The greeting was warm, and the general’s lips softened into a momentary smile. Then he turned back to the monitor at Walter’s station. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong. It’s far from the first time SG-1 has been late checking in.”

Daniel forced a smile, participating in the small deception. He could see that Hammond was as concerned as he was.

They waited in heavy silence, watching the interminable sweep of the clock’s second hand. Six minutes. Seven. Eight.

When the prescribed ten minutes had elapsed, Hammond cleared his throat and nodded sharply. “All right, Sergeant. Dial the Gate and make contact.”

The knot in his throat had spread to his stomach. His nails dug into his palms as the noise and vibration from the Gate’s activation quivered up through his feet. As the wormhole stabilized, and Walter made contact with the MALP. As the general’s voice rang through the control room, calling to Jack. Again. No response.

He found himself moving closer to Walter, eyes locked on the video display from the MALP as the technician scanned the viewable field.

“Stop.” Was that his voice?

“Doctor Jackson?” Walter was looking over his shoulder, a puzzled crease between his brows.

“Move it back, Walter.”

The technician’s fingers clicked keys, and the pan reversed.

“There! Stop.” 

Daniel leaned forward, stomach tightening even more. He pointed to the screen. “There, at the base of the slope.”

The general leaned over his shoulder. “One of their packs.”

“Sam’s.”

“How can you tell?” Daniel started at Colonel Pete Rossin’s voice. The new commander of SG-3 was standing behind the general, eyes locked on the monitor.

“Zoom in, Walter,” Daniel instructed. As the image enlarged, he traced the sharp-edged bulge in the pack’s surface.

“That’s the sample case. Sam always carries it. She’d never just drop it and leave.”

Hammond was nodding. “So, where are they? Sergeant, try the major’s frequency.”

Again, no response.

“Try the alternate,” Daniel instructed.

Walter obediently adjusted the frequency to their standard emergency setting.

At last. Teal’c’s deep voice answered immediately.

“Teal’c! We are unable to make contact with Colonel O’Neill.”

“Indeed, General Hammond. O’Neill and Major Carter have been taken captive by natives.”

And the weight fell, smothering him.

“You okay, Doc?”

He nodded blindly. “Fine. I’m fine. Thanks, Colonel Rossin.”

“No prob, Doc.”

Daniel forced his eyes to focus on the other man’s rather homely face. He’d met him only a week earlier, the other man having joined the SGC during his absence. Scuttlebutt was that he was a very different kind of marine from the earlier, abortive attempt to replace Makepeace. Rossin smiled slightly and nodded in understanding. Somewhere, Daniel found a trace of a smile. He felt a sweep of gratitude for the bit of compassion from a man he hardly knew.

“I was in the process of a perimeter check when several individuals leapt from the edge of the forest. Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter were overcome very quickly, and I was too far away to effectively interfere. I chose to conceal my presence, as I believe I can be of more use free than joining my comrades in captivity.”

“I agree, Teal’c. What’s the current situation?”

“I am presently returning to the Stargate. I had intended to contact you to solicit support. I have ascertained the location of the native encampment, and have determined that, though injured, O’Neill and Major Carter are alive. I do not believe that I will be able to effect their release without aid. I estimate that I will arrive at the Stargate within approximately thirty minutes.”

“Excellent, Teal’c. We’ll discuss appropriate action and contact you in thirty minutes. Wait for us to contact you, rather than exposing yourself by approaching the DHD.”

“Agreed, General Hammond.”

“Shut down, Ser…”

“No!” Daniel interrupted. He surged to his feet, casting an apologetic look toward Hammond. “Sorry, Sir. But before we shut down, I’d like to see a pan of the entire Gate clearing.”

“Very well, Doctor Jackson.” Hammond gestured toward Walter, and took a step back. “Sergeant, let Doctor Jackson get what information he needs, then shut down. We’ll redial in thirty minutes.”

Daniel nodded his thanks, then crouched down behind Walter. “Just do a slow pan, three-sixty.”

“You got it, Doctor Jackson.”

Daniel watched closely as the view rotated gradually around the MALP position. Watched the Gate slowly move past, then the DHD. Finally, Sam’s abandoned pack crept back into the side of the image.

“All right. Thanks, Walter, that’s all I need.”

He stood, stretching his back, then turned back to the general. Hammond still stood with Pete Rossin, discussing ways and means.

“General?”

“Doctor Jackson. Any additional information?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Hammond gestured toward the door to the corridor. “Very good. Sergeant, page SG-2 and SG-3, and get them geared up. Ask Colonel Feretti to meet us in the conference room as quickly as possible.”

Oh, shit! Where’s the driver of the damned truck!

Jack tried to shift, then heard a thin shriek. After a moment, he figured out that it must have come from him.

Damn damn damn. That truly hurts!

Holding himself as still as he could, he took slow inventory. Head. Jackhammer inside; something gooey dripping over his right eye. Ick. Ribs. Oh, yeah. Hoped he still had ribs. Arms. Couldn’t decide whether they were numb or just plain missing. But they couldn’t be, because his wrists were definitely still there.

Ow! Oh, damnshitfuck. Big mess!

Daniel dropped into his usual seat behind the conference room table, surrendering to the weight of that black cloud that had been hovering over his head since Jack’s little farewell visit.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. For some reason, he suddenly felt like he hadn’t slept for days.

Oh, Jack.

He was fighting with himself. Telling himself over and over… this was different. Different natives, different situation, different everything.

But he just couldn’t banish the memories of the last time his team had ended up ‘taken captive by natives.’

His head jerked up as Feretti rushed into the room, still buttoning his uniform shirt.

“Sorry, Sir,” Feretti panted. “Was just getting out of the shower.”

“That’s fine, Major. I appreciate your prompt reaction. Have you been updated on the situation?” At Feretti’s nod, he turned to Daniel. “Now, Doctor Jackson, what can you tell us?”

Daniel drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Most of the cultures we’ve found through the Gate have built their… well, their religious beliefs around the Gate and the Goa’uld, even if they haven’t been visited in generations.”

Hammond exchanged a glance with Feretti, who shrugged.

“Yes, Doctor. We know this.”

“Yes! But not this time. Or at least, not in the ways we’ve seen before! You saw the area around the Gate.”

“Yes,” Hammond responded slowly, clearly still not understanding Daniel’s point.

“The grass, General. Waist high, all wild grasses, growing right up to the edge of the DHD and the Gate dais. And no trails. The only break in the grass cover was the path SG-1 broke through. The edge of the forest is diffuse, not sharp. The clearing is bordered by shrubbery and smaller herbaceous plants. General, nobody has been using that clearing. There are no structures, no ruins, not even any carvings on the cliff-side. Grasses are opportunists—succession is gradually taking over that clearing, with no inhibition from human activity.”

Hammond was nodding slowly, eyes unfocussed as he apparently visualized what he’d seen in the MALP transmission. “You’re right, son. So…” he shifted back to meet Daniel’s eyes. “How does this affect our rescue options?”

Daniel ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, I can draw a couple of conclusions from what I’ve seen so far. One is pretty secure; the other is relatively speculative. First, I think that, to a certain point, we don’t have to be too worried about a team going through the Gate. Clearly, these people aren’t using the Gate clearing, and I’d bet they stay pretty far away. They didn’t jump Sam and Jack in the clearing, but waited until they’d reached the edge. That argues that they had some distance to travel once they heard the Gate activate. And it may also reflect on my second conclusion.”

He glanced around the table. That hard clutch on his throat was tightening. “I’m guessing that they don’t just not use the clearing. I’m guessing that they intentionally avoid it. We’ve never seen a culture living near a Gate that didn’t somehow incorporate the Stargate into their mythology. Their religion. And if they aren’t honoring the Gate as an object of worship, I’m betting they’re vilifying it. In essence, I think they regard the Gate as an object of taboo. I think they actively avoid it. In fact, that may be what got them upset—that Sam and Jack violated their taboo.”

Hammond’s nearly invisible brows furrowed. “That strikes me as a pretty big leap, Doctor Jackson.”

“I agree,” Daniel nodded. “Which is why I’m hoping you’ll consent to gathering a little more intelligence before we send a rescue.”

“We may not have the time for that luxury, Doctor.”

“I know. When we contact Teal’c, will you let me ask him some questions before we decide what action to take?”

The general stared at Daniel for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well, Doctor Jackson.” He turned to the two colonels. “Gentlemen, please prepare your teams for an off-world rescue. Be ready for possible departure at thirteen-hundred hours.”

“Sir.”

“Yessir!”

Their simultaneous responses signaled the close of the meeting.

They were deep in shit, here. He’d finally figured out what was wrong with his damned arms and hands. He was hanging from them, that’s what. His damned feet weren’t much help. He had to stretch his toes out to shift even a small fraction of his weight away from his tortured wrists.

Moaning slightly at the pain it caused, he forced his head to swivel to the side.

Carter looked bad. Eyes half-mast, body pretty much limp against the ropes. Occasionally, she made small sounds and moved a bit, but she was pretty woozy at the best of moments. And her smaller supply of inches meant that her feet didn’t touch the ground at all. There was blood in her blond hair, running down onto her face. Bruising and additional streaks of blood discolored her pale skin at the wrists, across her rib cage.

There was that little problem as well. They were both half stripped, upper bodies bare, clothing and belongings carefully piled just beyond reach of their feet.

And then there were the locals. One of them in particular. One very loud, very shrill one in particular.

Shit he’d give a lot to shut the bozo up.

Daniel leaned closer to the microphone. “Teal’c, you said they were excited. Can you describe more precisely just what’s going on?”

“In fact, I have utilized the audio device to make a record.”

“Excellent! Can you play the tape?”

Daniel was peripherally aware of the restless movements of the men behind him. He knew they were anxious. He was pretty anxious himself. But this mattered. He was sure of it.

“Sir, I don’t see what we’re waiting for. We need to get through that Gate!” Colonel Rossin’s deep voice was sharpened by impatience.

“Colonel, when Doctor J. says we wait and listen, if we’re smart we wait and listen.” Feretti, oozing complacence. “A lot of us who didn’t bother aren’t here any more. For one reason or another. Trust me. We want to let him do his thing.”

Daniel was conscious of a slow warmth in his chest at the vote of confidence. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, exchanging a bit of a smile with Feretti. Then he brushed his lips with his raised finger as Teal’c’s recording began to sound through the control room.

He winced at the strident voice. The dynamics of the recorded scene were clear from the sounds emerging from the speakers. A crowd of indistinct voices, occasionally rising in response to a single voice. One loud, rough voice, high with stress, screaming above the sounds of the crowd.

And he could understand them. Actually, he’d bet he wasn’t the only one in the control room who could understand at least part of what they heard. The language was clearly a rather close derivative of Spanish.

He felt a flicker of relief. For once, an easy communication problem.

Well, an easy translation problem, but there wasn’t going to be anything easy about the communication issue.

He dropped his hand on Walter’s shoulder, indicating that he’d heard enough. “Thanks, Teal’c. Stand by…?” He glanced at the general for confirmation. “We’ll be back with you in just a moment.”

“Well, Doctor Jackson?” Hammond asked.

Daniel took a deep breath, then spit it out as fast as he could.

“I was right about the taboo. And about why they took Sam and Jack. And Sam and Jack aren’t going to last much longer. You all heard—some of you understood. What’s going on is that one man--a sort of agent provocateur—has worked that crowd into a religious frenzy. The motivation is different, but what we’ve got there is basically a lynch mob.”

“Do you think you can negotiate with them, Doctor?”

Daniel shook his head sharply. “Not a chance. In their current state, they’re pretty much immune to reasoning. General, religious beliefs are fundamentally non-rational. In this kind of frenzy, no rational discussion is going to make any impact. One benefit, however, is that they’re making enough of their own noise that they probably won’t even be aware when we dial in.”

“So why are we waiting?” Rossin demanded.

“Because another thing about humans in mob state is that they are pretty much unmanageable. They fight with that same irrational frenzy you heard on the tape, and that makes them much more dangerous than they would normally be. You heard Teal’c. There are at least fifty adult males in that crowd. Despite our superior weaponry, we are not going to be able to get Sam and Jack out of there by force without a lot of injury and loss of life, probably on both sides. And unless we are very fast, they’ll kill both of them before we can make enough progress to release them.”

“So… what? How do we rescue them? Because I’ve got to tell you, Doctor Jackson. There’s no way I’m going to go along with leaving them where they are!”

Daniel stared at Rossin, mouth dropping open. “And you think I would? That’s my team, Colonel. But a head-on assault isn’t the way to do it. I’d like to see us get them out without unnecessary loss of life—ours or the natives’.”

He turned to the general. “Sir, the only way to do this is by deception. We need to decoy them… draw their attention away from Jack and Sam long enough for someone to sneak in and cut them down.”

“You really think a plan like that could work?” Hammond looked dubious.

“Yes, I do. No plan is failsafe, but another aspect of the mob mentality is single-mindedness. If we divert their attention onto something different, even for a few moments, we’ll have pretty much all of their attention.”

Hammond rubbed his chin, brow furrowed. “I don’t know, Doctor. Sounds pretty risky.”

“General, any plan we come up with is going to be risky. I think this is the safest, both for us and for the natives. They’re behaving like monsters now, but they’re people, and they’re frightened by what they think Jack and Sam represent. They don’t deserve to be cut down if we can help it.”

Hammond contemplated Daniel for several seconds. “What kind of distraction are you proposing, Doctor?”

Daniel pulled in and held a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this. Couldn’t be going to suggest what he knew was about to come out of his mouth.

“We pretend to attempt to reason with them. The language issue is easy for once. Send a negotiator with a couple of attendants with big, noisy weapons to get their attention. We talk and argue and make noise long enough for Teal’c and one other person to crawl in and get Sam and Jack out. Then we run like hell for the Gate, with the rest of the teams covering our six.”

Understanding and compassion swept over Hammond’s face. “And who do you suggest do the negotiating, Doctor Jackson?”

Daniel met his eyes. “Me.” He was surprised the word managed to squeeze out through his closed throat.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Hammond asked gently.

“I have to be, Sir. If I can’t do this, I’ll never be of any use to the SGC again. There’ll never be a better reason for me to step through that Gate.”

Hammond’s small mouth pursed. Then he nodded. “Very well. Doctor, you are reactivated; prepare to go through the Gate.”

Daniel stood and glanced at the two team leaders. Feretti was giving him a thumbs-up and a confident grin; Rossin’s brows were arched, his lips curved into a reluctant smile. He nodded slowly, then turned to head for the Gate room.

Daniel was a bit surprised to realize that he’d seen real respect in the marine’s eyes.

Between the ringing in his ears and the screeching racket from that damned native, the noise was brain-numbing.

Come to think of it, having his brain numbed didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Things were not looking fun.

Under the driving gyrations of their noisy leader, the crowd of men had been gathering wood and brush, piling the garbage around the feet of their two captives.

Jack let his eyelids drop. Hey, big guy. Where you keeping yourself? Get us out of this, and I swear I’ll never mention fishing again.

Come to think of it, he was pretty much ready to give up on the old barbeque thing as well. Forever. Definitely not an attractive pastime, when you thought about it.

Daniel stepped into the Gate room just as the Stargate started to spin.

“Colonel Rossin, Lou?” he called.

The two team leaders turned toward him, brows raised as they took in his appearance.

Daniel flushed slightly, fingering the rich fabric of the robe he’d grabbed from their stash of confiscated Goa’uld finery. Defiantly, he met Rossin’s amused eyes.

“We need to get through the Gate and into the trees as quickly as possible. I’d suggest we follow the same track Sam and Jack left, then divert immediately to a location away from where Sam dropped her pack.”

The two nodded, recognizing the reasoning, and turned to instruct their teams, smiles still flickering across their mouths.

“You ready, Doc?” Rossin asked, glancing at Daniel.

Heart hammering, Daniel nodded. The other man turned back to the gathered teams and gestured toward the now-stable wormhole.

“Let’s get this done!”

The other eight men stomped up the ramp and jumped through the event horizon. Daniel started out strong, but with each step up the slope, his feet got heavier and heavier. At the top, he paused, closed his eyes and fought to get his breathing under control.

He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take that last step.

“Doctor?”

He shut out the general’s voice.

Could do it. Had to. Jack was on the other side of that Gate, and the only way he was going to get him back was to do this.

He pulled the robe more tightly around his chest, pushed his shoulders back and, resolutely opening his eyes, stepped confidently through the Gate.

The waving of torches in the darkness made his already abused stomach lurch.

God, God, don’t make me puke. Not now.

No sign of Teal’c. No sight of rescue moving through the trees.

This was going to happen, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it.

Painfully, he glanced toward Carter, and allowed himself to feel a small amount of gratitude for her apparent unconsciousness. She wasn’t moving even that little bit any more. He hoped she never woke to experience what was clearly going to be their fate.

Jack turned back to stare at the dipping, dancing torches, holding his breath as one snaked too close to the dry brush piled around his feet.

I’m sorry, Danny. I’m so sorry.

The noise was deafening—too many voices, screaming and shouting with too much abandon. He could see the unsteady light of torches above the trees and along the path. A few more steps, and they’d be among the mob.

Daniel glanced quickly at his escort. To his right, Feretti. To his left, Feretti’s second, Mitch Remus. Both carried the biggest, meanest, noisiest ordinance available to the SG teams, slanted across their chests.

Daniel carried… nothing. No pack, no obvious arms.

He’d hastily put together the most gaudy robes he could, using bits and pieces of their stolen Goa’uld folderol. “Subtle” clearly wasn’t in the typical System Lord’s vocabulary.  And tucked inside the overlong sleeves, his secret, private pair of aces-in-the-hole.

He was trying hard to channel Chronus, taking that loudest, fiercest, most dangerous-looking of the Goa’uld as his model. To pull that mantle of indisputable power and confidence around himself. The being he was emulating didn’t need to carry arms. His power and control would keep him safe.

Right.

As long as he stuck close to those big guns.

And kept his little secrets up his sleeves.

”Ready?” he mouthed to his companions.

Rather than attempt to compete with the noise, they just nodded sharply and fell into place on either side, half a step behind their ‘great and powerful’ leader. Hah.

Daniel threw his head and shoulders back and strode forward, assuming the haughtiest, most fearless façade he could manage. As they stepped out of the trees, he could finally see Sam and Jack, wrists bound over their heads, at the far side of the clearing. Sam looked awful—unconscious, bare to the waist. Jack was conscious, also bare-chested, and uncomfortably battered. Daniel could see his eyes widening as Daniel and his escort moved into the light from the bonfire. Behind Jack, he saw the tiny flare of Rossin’s lighter, and knew the real rescue team was in position.

At a flick of Daniel’s hand, Feretti and Remus let loose several rounds from their firearms.

As the roar of the guns boomed, the noise around the fire dropped instantly, as every eye swiveled toward the intruders. The mob leader—“Witch Doctor,” Daniel had dubbed him--a tall, too-thin man with the glare of fanaticism in his eyes, shoved through the crowd to face Daniel.

For shivering seconds, the two men glared at each other. Then Daniel, stealing the initiative, identified himself in the deepest, most threatening voice he could muster, letting the round fluidity of the Spanish flow like fire through his lips.

“I am the Great and Powerful Oz, and you have presumed to aggress upon my minions!”

His arms lifted sharply, sleeves flying like wings, and two trees on either side of him flared with the spectacular electrical dance of zat blasts.

Witch Doctor flinched back as screams from the crowd battered at Daniel’s ears. The man recovered quickly, stepping closer to Daniel and shrieking about taboos and violations.

Daniel swept his right arm out, sleeve billowing, to point aggressively at the advancing native. “Silence, worm! How do you presume to speak against your god?”

The man paused, eyeing Daniel fearfully. But he was apparently made of stern stuff. He took another step. Daniel fought grimly against the impulse to back away. Not an action for the Great and Powerful Oz.

Behind the crowd, Daniel saw Teal’c and Rossin slide close to his bound teammates.

At a jerk of Daniel’s hand, his honor guard again fired into the air, the sound thundering over the now-silent crowd and completely capturing the attention of every native in the encampment.

More screams, as most of the men dropped to the ground, covering their heads. Their ululating cries echoed through the camp, pleading for mercy.

But their leader wasn’t so easily cowed. Though he advanced no further, he stood his ground. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Daniel.

“What false god is this?” he demanded, shrill voice ringing over the noise from his panicked mob.

“False?” Daniel roared, and swung his right arm toward the tree closest to his opponent. Two rapid blasts from the zat, and the tree burst into electrical flame, eerie enough in the warmer light of the fires and torches. Then a delayed third shot, and the unfortunate conifer vanished, leaving a faintly smoking hole where its root ball had been.

At last, Witch Doctor appeared truly shaken. He fell back a step, bulging eyes focused on the emptiness which had so recently held a living tree.

Slowly, he turned back to stare at the strange creature who had invaded his world. His hand rose, visibly shaking, and pointed at Daniel. “Demon,” he whispered harshly. “Demon!” his voice rose as he repeated the word over and over.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed his best Evil Genius impersonation.

“You pitiful cockroach! What is a demon but a god?” Daniel could no longer see the captives or the rescuers. Time for the piece de resistance.

“No!” Witch Doctor screamed, grabbing a torch and running toward Daniel.

“You die, worm!” Daniel roared, at last aiming his zat at the charging man.

The mob leader jerked in the dancing zat discharge, then dropped like a stone to lie twitching in the dirt. His minions gaped then abased themselves, faces to the ground, pleading cries and whimpers begging the terrible Oz to spare them.

“Ha!” Daniel cried, signaling to Feretti for their final pyrotechnic. The major quickly pulled a magnesium flare from a loop in his vest, stooped and struck it against a rock, activating the vivid white fire. Simultaneously, Remus pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and dropped it beside the brilliant flare.

And they turned and ran. To the natives, it must have seemed that they vanished in blinding light and a puff of choking smoke.

Shit!

Jack’s body jerked painfully at the gawdawful racket from the other side of the clearing.

Then his jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head violently, despite the danger of it flying off, thinking to dispel what was clearly an apparition.

Oh, Danny. What the hell are you up to, you idiot!

He heard a small, high shriek—that couldn’t possibly have been him?—at the touch of a hand on his bare ribcage.

And he abruptly came to realize just what it was Daniel was up to.

“T?” he whispered.

“It is I, O’Neill. We are here to liberate you and Major Carter.” Teal’c’s voice was barely audible.

Good old Teal’c. Master of the obvious.

Jack could now see someone moving around Carter’s still body.

“Please refrain from making any loud noises, O’Neill. We must not distract the natives from Daniel Jackson’s diversion.”

The warning was timely--the dropping of his arms as his bound wrists were released created an exquisite agony; there was nothing he wanted more than to scream at the top of his lungs.

“Are you able to walk, O’Neill?”

He desperately wanted to say yes, to stride from the clearing under his own steam, ready to face up to one errant archaeologist and read the loudest riot act in history.

“Uh… Afraid not, big guy.”

“So I expected.”

Jack inhaled sharply as his already abused body was slung over Teal’c’s broad shoulders.

“Hey!” he squeaked. “Easy on the ribs!”

“We must move rapidly, O’Neill. I believe the appropriate instruction is, ‘buck up.’”

Thanks, buddy. Bucking up, here.

No way was he going to get back to the Gate in any shape for that dressing down.

They ran, side by side. Daniel had shed the encumbrance of the awkward robe almost immediately, shoving the two zats into the waistband of his pants after disintegrating the gaudy garment. They’d followed the path for a couple hundred yards, then slanted through the woods toward the Gate.

Feretti and Remus were laughing, overcome with the exhilaration of their brilliant, noisy deception, congratulating each other and Daniel in choppy, disjointed phrases.

Daniel’s own mood wavered between knee-trembling relief and choking anxiety. Jack and Sam had looked awful. He’d seen Jack move, even met his eyes briefly. But he wasn’t at all sure Sam was still alive.

As desperately as he wanted Jack safe and alive, he wasn’t willing to have him in exchange for Sam.

As they’d expected, they reached the rendezvous point before the other part of their party. Not only had they needed to travel a shorter distance, but the others would be burdened with the rescued pair.

There was no sign of pursuit. Hopefully the natives were demoralized enough by their leader apparently struck dead before their eyes that they’d be slow to follow. It might even be enough to keep them tightly clinging to the dubious safety of their encampment.

And he figured when the Witch Doctor apparently returned from the dead, every nerve jangling like the jingle bells on an elf’s shoes, they’d be shocked all over again.

Of course, none of that calm, reasoned thought interfered with his overwhelming desire to get through that Gate now. He just needed Jack.

Daniel leaned, panting, against the overgrown dirt cliff, watching Feretti and Remus jostling and celebrating. They’d chosen a location a few yards from Sam’s dropped pack, against the cliff but into the trees from the edge of the Gate clearing. Far enough from the open area to be hidden, close enough to be within fast dialing distance.

Feretti’s radio clicked, and he settled enough to respond to Rossin’s call.

“We’re about two minutes away. Let’s get that Gate dialed.”

Feretti acknowledged and nodded to Daniel. This was the other half of his role in their rescue.

Daniel crept the few feet to the edge of the clearing and waited a moment, listening. He heard no indication of pursuit, no sound of the natives near the clearing.

He took a deep breath, stooped to grab Sam’s abandoned pack, and dashed across the tall grass to the DHD to begin punching in the familiar address. He took a brief moment to recognize how easily the symbols came back to him, despite nearly a year away from the Gate.

He paused with his hand poised over the domed central crystal, gaze fixed on the spot from which he expected the rest of the team to emerge.

Come on! Come on!

And there they were. Convulsively, his hand slapped down to activate the Gate, even as he headed away from the DHD toward those two limp bodies.

Rossin was carrying Sam cradled against his shoulder. He’d wrapped her bare upper body in his own jacket, sealing up the front to protect her dignity. She wasn’t moving.

Daniel exchanged an anxious look with Rossin, who nodded grimly.

“She’s still with us.”

Daniel nodded jerkily, then turned toward Teal’c. A hand on his arm stopped him briefly.

Rossin was looking at him with some combination of admiration, disbelief and sheer amusement.

“That was a hell of a show, Doctor Jackson.”

For a second, Daniel’s lips relaxed into a smile. “Well, it served its purpose.”

Now Rossin gave in to the laughter—an odd sort of dry huffing sound. “It sure as hell did, Doc. Sure as hell did.”

Daniel pulled away from the restraining hand and caught up with Teal’c.

Jack was slung over the Jaffa’s shoulder. If he’d been moving at the encampment, he wasn’t any more. His head bobbed with each of Teal’c’s long strides, and small, pained moans sounded rhythmically.

“He will be fine, Daniel Jackson. I believe there was something he wished to discuss with you.”

Daniel choked out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh, I just bet there is.” He reached out to touch Jack’s matted hair.

Teal’c favored him with that smug, annoying little smile, and used Jack’s dangling feet to gently nudge Daniel toward the active Gate.

“Aaargh!” Jack came back to himself hearing his own voice. His loud voice. Then the pain hit, shooting throughout his body like fire.

“Well, Colonel, I really don’t think you’ll be trying that again soon.”

Panting, he squinted his eyes open. Frasier. No surprise.

Well, yeah, maybe it was a surprise, considering the last thing he remembered with any clarity.

He tried to relax as hands eased him back against the pillows. Somehow, she seemed to have more hands than she should.

“Jack?”

Oh, he knew that voice.

“Daniel?” Ugh.

Gratefully, he opened his mouth for the straw tapping against his lips. As the blessed coolness slid down his throat, he tried to force his eyes to sharpen the focus on the blur behind the cup. The deliciously, comfortably familiar blur. He’d know that shape, that hair anywhere, no matter how fuzzy. And there was no mistaking the blue of those hazy eyes.

When his throat felt a bit less like the sands of Abydos, he pushed the straw out with his tongue and did his best to smile up at Daniel’s still fuzzy face.

“That’s pretty pitiful, Jack.”

“Guess I need practice.”

A cool palm cupped his overheated cheek.

“Guess you do.

“You can practice later, Colonel. Daniel, I said you could stay until he woke up. Now you go and get some sleep.”

“But Sam…”

“Ah ah ah! You promised. Sam’s still in intensive care; she won’t be waking up for hours. You are going to your quarters, and I don’t want to see you here for the next eight hours.”

“F’rget it, Doc. Daniel doesn’t do orders.”

“That’s not…”

“Doctor Jackson.”

Daniel huffed in disgust, then, with a parting brush of his hand across Jack’s shoulder, he left.

Jack chuckled, then wheezed as the movement sent fresh waves of pain through his chest and arms.

“Let that be a lesson to you, Colonel O’Neill,” Frasier scolded gently.

He was aware of the white blur of her body moving beside his bed, could tell she was fussing with the wires and tubes. After a moment, he felt the sharp edge of his pain easing as the medication oozed through him.

“Shit, Doc. You should package that stuff up and sell it.”

“I’ll be sure to bring that suggestion up at the next budget meeting with the general.”

“So, Doc… What’s the score?”

“Astonishingly, you aren’t really in too bad shape. A lot of bruising. Running to the Gate slung over Teal’c’s shoulder didn’t help much, but at least you didn’t break any ribs. The worst problems are the concussion…”

“Noticed that one.”

“I imagine you did. We’ve also got some issues with your wrists and hands.”

He felt a cold shiver run up his spine.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Considering the degree of swelling present, we need to keep a close watch on you. There’s a possibility we’re going to be dealing with compartment syndrome.”

“Compartment syndrome?”

“Yes. The swelling of the tissues in the wrists can cause compression of the little passages that your nerves and blood vessels go through. If there’s enough compression, we could be looking at permanent damage.”

“Shit.”

“Well, we’ve gotten to this pretty fast, and if the problem does develop, we can treat it quickly, which increases the possibility of complete recovery. No promises, but I’m very optimistic.”

He digested that for a few moments, fighting against the drowsiness from the medication.

“Okay. Well, I’ll deal when I have to. Now…” He shifted slightly, trying to improve his view of her face. “Carter.”

He could tell she’d turned away. “Still early days, sir. She’s got a concussion, a broken rib, some severe bruising, and a broken wrist, not to mention the same issues we just discussed.”

“Shit.” He shuddered at the thought of hanging from those damned trees on a broken wrist.

“Both of you are staying where my staff can watch you for the next few days. If compartment syndrome does develop, the treatment will be a surgical procedure called a fasciotomy. I need you here if that becomes necessary. It will also mean a second surgery a couple of days later, when the condition stabilizes. Right now, things look fine, but I want to make sure you’re in the clear before I let you out of my clutches.”

He grimaced. “You saying I can’t go home in the morning?”

“It is morning, Colonel. And no, you’re not going home this morning, or tomorrow morning, or the next morning for that matter.”

He scowled up at her. “You just love this, don’t you, you little dictator.”

She chuckled softly. “Oh, yes. Just love it. Now shut up and sleep.”

“Will I feel better when I wake up?”

She laughed again. “I doubt it. But one can but hope.”

“Sadist,” he murmured, letting his eyes slide shut.

As he drifted away, he heard her voice once more.

“I thought I sent you off to bed!”

His lips curved into a smile.

Told ya.

Daniel hovered anxiously as Jack eased himself into the passenger seat.

It was very disconcerting to see Jack looking so frail. Moving like an old man. He held his body so stiffly, arms supported by twin slings, hands wrapped in demi-mitts of gauze.

“I’m all right, Daniel,” Jack insisted firmly. “Stop hovering.”

“No, you’re not all right. Every time I touch you…”

“I know. Sorry. That’ll get better.”

Daniel winced at Jack’s obvious attempt to cling to patience. But he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stand to let Jack out of his sight for more than a few minutes.

“Daniel.” Jack’s voice was firm. “Drive the car. Get me away from this hole in the ground.”

“Right. Drive.”

Daniel hurried around to the driver’s side, slid in and started the engine. He sat for a moment, staring out the windshield as his hand slid into his pocket, fingering the smooth object hidden there.

“Daniel?”

“Drive. Got it.” He pulled his hand free of the fabric of his slacks. Not yet. He put the car in reverse and backed out of his parking spot.

He pulled to a gentle stop to clear the security gate, then accelerated toward the road down the mountain.

Jack flinched as they thumped over the speed bump.

“Sorry!” Daniel pulled his foot off the accelerator and let the car roll onto the verge, anxious eyes on his partner’s clenched features.

“Daniel, stop apologizing. Stop waiting for my arms to fall off. Stop treating me like a ninety-year-old cripple!”

Daniel sat for a moment, hands clenched around the steering wheel.

“Danny, relax. I got hurt. It happens. It’ll get better. And no way was it in any kind of imagination your fault.”

Daniel shot a startled glance across the car.

“I wasn’t…”

“Yeah, you were. Don’t ask me how you’re managing to feel guilty, but I know you, Danny. You were.”

Daniel huffed, then stared down into his lap, fingers sneaking back into that pocket.

“All right. Home. And while we’re driving…” He pulled the heavy object out of his pocket. “You can check this out.”

He slid the ring over the protruding thumb of Jack’s left hand, turned quickly back to the wheel and put the car in motion, carefully keeping his eyes directed down the road, away from the man in the other seat.

For a while, Jack made no sound. In his peripheral vision, Daniel could see his clumsy hands, moving the ring around, holding it awkwardly between fingertips, stroking over the stone. The first noise he made was a soft grunt of pain as he lifted the band of gold to examine the inscription.

Daniel bit his lip, forcing himself to watch the road. Not very original, that inscription. Looked a lot like the example he’d been given a week ago.

“Danny?”

“Jack?” His voice sounded high and tight.

“Danny, pull over, will you?”

Daniel flicked a panicked glance at his passenger, then gulped and pulled into the parking area for a scenic overlook.

He sat stiffly, hands gripping the wheel, and stared out at the mountain scenery. Jack was looking at him; he could feel it.

A gauze-wrapped hand slid over one of his, tugging gently. At last, he turned to look at his partner, seeing warm affection in Jack’s dark eyes.

The hand continued tugging, and Daniel yielded, leaning across to dare a potentially very public demonstration of his feelings.

As their lips pulled apart, both were panting slightly. Jack took advantage of the proximity of Daniel’s cheek to nuzzle gently.

“Wish I didn’t feel like a ninety-year-old man.”

Daniel chuckled softly, rubbing his nose against Jack’s forehead. “Don’t feel so old to me.”

“Yeah, well, you should try it from the inside.” Jack grunted as he lifted his right hand, the signet ring dangling from his index finger. “’S really beautiful, Daniel.”

Warmth swept over Daniel’s cheeks. He reached out to stroke the band of gold, then let his hand continue to stroke Jack’s fingers and bandaged palm.

“I wanted to get you something you could wear,” he murmured, gaze fixed on Jack’s mittened hand. “Then…”

“Then I go and screw up my hands, so I can’t wear anything on my fingers. Sorry about that, Danny.”

Daniel looked up into Jack’s face, smiling gently. “You’re going to get better. In the meantime…”

He dug back into his pocket and pulled out the chain he’d purchased the day before. Jack laughed, then offered the ring. Daniel kissed him again as he slid the burdened chain over his head.

“Mmmm,” Jack hummed against Daniel’s lips. “Have I thanked you yet?”

Daniel sat up, startled. “Thanked me?”

“Yup. One hell of a rescue.”

A little smile tugged at Daniel’s lips. “Actually, I thought I was going to get reamed out.”

“Yeah, well, that too. Scared the living shit out of me. If it hadn’t already been scared out, of course. I really thought Carter and I’d had it. Thought your little show was a death-bed fantasy for a minute, there.”

Daniel’s gaze dropped to their still-clasped hands. “I couldn’t…” He drew in a sharp breath, then spoke fiercely. “There was no way in hell they were going to have you! We’d just gotten things worked out. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some jumped-up religious fanatic….”

Jack was laughing and wincing at the same time. “Easy on the fingers, buddy. Let’s just say I’m glad it was you making the plans.”

Daniel met his eyes, mouth tightening. “You should be. They’d have stormed in, bullets flying, and a whole lot of people would have ended up dying. Including you and Sam.”

“I imagine you’re right.” Jack stared at him for a moment. “So… looks like you’re gonna be okay.”

Daniel’s brows arched in confusion.

“You know. That Gate thing. Been there, got the t-shirt, right?”

A slow smile lit Daniel’s face. “Well, Jack, it was all a matter of the appropriate motivation.”

“Motivation?”

“Oh, yes. Like I said… There was no way in hell.”

Jack grinned broadly. “Oh, yeah. That’s me. Motivational.”

“For me? No question.”

“So, Danny… Shall we get back on the road? I could do with a little motivational attention myself.”

Daniel turned the key, then delivered one final kiss before pulling onto the road.

“I’ve been doing a little research on… motivation,” he offered casually, eyes tracking the road.

“Hmm?”

“Yes. Motivation for those who are… movement impaired.”

“Movement impaired? That what they’re calling it these days?”

“Movement impaired. Soothing music. Limb manipulation. Massage.”

“Which limbs? Massage? Hot damn! Pick it up, Danny. I’m feeling the real need for therapy, here!”

Epilogue

“Step it up, Daniel!” Jack called, wriggling his fingers just for the pleasure of being able to do it.

Three fuckin’ weeks, and the stupid things were finally working properly. For a second, he admired the neat scars running along the insides of his wrists. Damn fine work. Then he turned his right hand over to inspect its new adornment.

He smiled in satisfaction at the gleam of the corridor lights on the polished malachite set into his ring. Looked damned good on his hand. Finally.

“Daniel!” he called again.

“Coming, Jack! Just a few…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. General’s waitin’, Daniel.”

And that was satisfying as well. To be heading to their first mission briefing together in nearly a year. Of course, Carter wouldn’t be there, but she was mending fast. They’d be four again in no time.

A flicker of movement down the hall caught his attention.

“Well, O’Neill.”

“Heidepriem.”

“So you got your way after all.”

He let the shark smile slide over his lips. “What makes you think it was my way, Doc?”

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I still say you idiots shouldn’t be risking the Daniel Jacksons of the world this way. He’s worth more than the whole lot of you military bozos together.”

“Well, we agree about something. But he’s not a child, Heidepriem. You and me… we don’t get to make his decisions for him.”

“You really expect me to believe that he doesn’t let you run the show?”

Jack laughed. “I thought you knew him, Heidepriem!”

She frowned fiercely.

“Dair.”

Jack turned at Daniel’s soft voice, and couldn’t have stopped the smile for his life.

Daniel smiled back, then, smile fading, moved to stand beside him.

“Dair, I know you worry about me. But you need to understand that what I want for my life isn’t the same as what you think I should want. And… I’m sorry. but you really don’t get to have a say.”

“Dammit, DJ, it’s such a stupid waste!”

“No. No, it isn’t. And even if it is… well, that’s still my choice, not yours.”

She moved closer, reaching a calloused hand toward Daniel. “Daniel, think. What would your parents say?”

Daniel stared at her in silence, brows arched in surprise. Then, slowly, the smile again spread across his face.

“I like to think they’d have said, ‘Go for it, Danny! Make your life matter, and be happy.’”

For a second, Jack thought the glowering woman would stomp her foot in frustration.

“Then think about that last trip, Daniel! Think!”

“You mean, that last trip when I helped to rescue two valuable SGC team members?”

“You know very well which trip I mean, Daniel Jackson! Think about what happened to you… the pain, the humiliation, the anguish. How can you risk that again?”

Jack held his breath.  Daniel leaned slightly against Jack’s shoulder, nudging just enough to let the older man know it was intentional.

“I have thought about it. For how many months now? Thought about it more than you can imagine. And yes, what happened to me was awful. God knows, I don’t ever want it to happen again. But I survived. And all that thinking—you know what I decided? I’m willing to risk it, to do what I do.”

He took a step closer to her, gaze fixed on her face with that intensity so characteristic of him.

“What we do out there matters, Dair. And I contribute. Not the same way another soldier can contribute, but in ways only I can. For me, it’s fulfilling in a way that nothing else in my life has ever been. No, it’s not the life I dreamed about. But who could have?” He glanced back at Jack, lips quirking into a little grin. “And I think I’m addicted, so it’s too late to go back now.”

Jack laughed softly, reaching out to pull the other man back beside him, casting a challenging and triumphant look at Heidepriem.

What he saw on her face surprised him. Gone were the belligerence and anger, replaced by anxious concern. And suddenly he saw what he’d missed through all these months of confrontation and competition. She loved Daniel. Maybe not the way he did, but loved him nonetheless.

He raised his free hand to interrupt whatever she was about to say.

“Truce, Doctor Heidepriem. Time to settle this.”

Her mouth tightened, and she stared at him with sullen resentment.

“I know, Doc. I got it.”

Daniel turned a confused face in his direction, and he smiled reassuringly.

“Look, Doctor Heidepriem. I know you think I’m pretty worthless.” His hand snapped up to cover Daniel’s opening mouth. “And I gotta admit, sometimes you’re right about that. But when it comes to Daniel, here… Well, there’s nobody on this or any other world more dedicated to keeping him in one piece.”

“Right,” she snorted. “We all saw that last year.”

He squashed the urge to wince.

“You’re right. Definitely one of my most ass-brained performances. But I’ve learned, Doc.”

Again, she snorted.

“I have. And Daniel and I… well, we’ve been through a special kind of trial over the past few months. And I can guarantee that I’ll never let something like that happen again if I can do anything to stop it.”

She wasn’t looking persuaded. Jack tossed his hand in the air in frustration.

“What’s it gonna take to convince you, Doc? Nothing in this universe is as important to me as keeping Daniel safe. Nothing.”

Her arms were once again crossed over her chest. With a sigh, he turned to Daniel, only to be stunned to silence by the brilliant smile he met. He felt his guts turn to mush—a feeling with which he’d recently become familiar--and couldn’t help smiling back.

“Right.” He shook himself slightly, then turned away from Heidepriem. “Briefing.”

As he pulled Daniel down the corridor, he tossed back over his shoulder, “Guess I’ll just have to show you, won’t I.”

“Damned right!” she yelled.

He pulled Daniel to a halt, then looked back at her, letting the shark grin out again.

Slowly, deliberately, he slid his arm around Daniel’s waist, pulling him close. He made sure the signet ring was clearly visible.

He watched confusion, then startled understanding sweep over the woman’s face. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes met his.

After a long moment, a reluctant smile curved her thin mouth, and she nodded slightly.

With a wink, Jack urged his partner toward the elevator and the waiting general.

~Ende~