A Day in the Life

Part IV

Daniel: The Man in Black

By Lady Grey

Forbidden.

The word echoed all through Daniel, annoying him.

This was supposed to be better, he argued. You promised me! You led me to believe…

You may not interfere. You were told this.

He heard Jack cry out and had to go, had to help, had to do something.

The hands he no longer had were tied.

Forbidden, the light impressed upon him.

Then there was the terrible slaughter, and Teal’c lay dying.

FORBIDDEN, he was warned again.

The bonds around his spirit tightened. He squirmed and fought. He tried to reason with the Others, but they were cold and unfeeling. Daniel realized then where he was, what had happened to him.

He moved. He tore loose from the non-existent bonds, reaching out to do what none of Them would. Abydos was at stake and Anubis had to be stopped. He acted, placing himself in the line of fire.

Pain was the penalty, a rending of his soul such as he had never imagined, and then suddenly--

“No!” he gasped, flinging himself upright in his bed.

Daniel struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Sweat ran in rivulets down his body, stinging his eyes. With a shaking hand he wiped them clean and turned to squint at the clock on his nightstand.

4:57 AM.

He’d had almost two hours of sleep this time, before the nightmares took him. Wide awake now, he flung the covers back and reached for the lamp. He paced the small VIP room that was his only home now, trying to recall the dream that had so disturbed him.

All he could remember clearly was that his hands had been tied. He looked down at his wrists, half expecting to see ligature marks from some kind of bonds, but there were none. He sighed and rubbed his face, his shoulders aching, head pounding, sharp spikes of pain lancing down into his eyes. Migraines were not a good way to start the day, but he’d been getting them more often, and with each passing recurrence, they were more severe. Nausea hadn’t been a problem yet, but if the pain continued to get worse, he felt sure that would eventually compound his condition.

The training with Jack and his nightly excursions were taking a toll. He was getting stronger and faster, but every day his body continued to keep him informed of the price for so much physical activity. Without proper nourishment and sufficient rest to counteract the exercise, he knew his resistance was suffering and he would eventually get sick, collapse from exhaustion or go psycho from lack of sleep. He was going to have to back off a little, because he and the rest of SG-1 would be going out into the field again soon and he needed to be fresh and ready, not worn down to a nub.

He took his glasses from the nightstand, thought better of that and left them there, opting for the sunglasses in his locker instead. Pulling open the drawer, he fished inside for one of the little prescription bubble packs of Imitrex that Doctor Fraiser gave him for the migraines, reluctantly stuffed the thing up his nose and pushed the plunger to dispense the fine spray. It tasted exceedingly nasty as it trickled down the back of his throat and onto his tongue and he gagged a little, pushing to his feet and heading for SG-1’s locker room.

As he waited for the water to heat up in the shower, he undressed slowly and took stock of his body. Ten years ago there had hardly been a mark on him. Now his skin was a road map of scars, evidence of the hardships he’d survived as part of SG-1. Scattered among them were a host of fresh bruises on his arms, ribs and back.

No one had said anything about the marks, even though the team was officially on downtime, but Daniel knew that eventually someone was going to notice. Maybe they already had, but just hadn’t called him on it yet. So far, they’d been minding their own business. He’d tried to intentionally get in the way of Jack’s fists, to take a punch hard enough to cause a discoloration, but somehow the Special Ops-trained colonel had always managed to pull his punches just enough to make a point, not a bruise.

With a sigh, he traced over a faint bluish spot on his ribs, pressing against it to feel the soreness, reminding himself how he’d gotten that one. The rapist he had subdued the night before had kicked him there and Daniel had grabbed that foot as it had impacted against him, lifted it straight up and thrown the guy down on his back. A hundred and eighty pounds of angry vigilante had then descended upon the would-be rapist, and the guy had gone down for the count.

That had been worth the price Daniel paid, and then some. He smiled, closed his eyes and lifted his face into the hot water, washing away the weariness. He hummed a little as he bathed, snatches of something classical, and when he was finished he dressed in clean fatigues, took his sunglasses from his locker to mute the pain from the base lighting, and headed for his office to do a little translating.

His computer chimed when breakfast time rolled around and he returned briefly to his quarters to return a book he wanted to study later that evening. Just as he left he spotted Teal’c ahead of him in the hallway, ready to step into the elevator. He eased in after the Jaffa and greeted him.

Teal’c seemed startled.

Daniel gave himself a mental shake, trying to slip back into his work persona. That was harder to do these days, especially after so little sleep. His mind was still out there in the darkness somewhere, waiting for dawn. Reaching for the elevator button, his body reminded him that it was recuperating from his last bit of abuse and it was all he could do not to groan. He felt his face twitch and hoped Teal’c hadn’t seen it.

He decided to cover it with a little exercise, stretching and rubbing himself a little.

As usual, Teal’c didn’t miss a thing.

“You have not been sleeping well. Perhaps you should mention this to DoctorFraiser.”

Daniel shook his head. “Nah. She’d just push sleeping pills at me. I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.” He put his head down and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. A moment later, his eyes popped open, disturbing images filling his thoughts during that unguarded moment. He took a deep breath and searched frantically for a fragment of text, a quotation or table he could recite to drive those ugly visions away. Think of anything but that.

Sweat broke out on his upper lip. The doors mercifully parted and the Jaffa accompanied him down the corridor to the commissary. Teal’c let him go first in the food line and Daniel gravitated toward his favorites, foods that would make him feel good as well as fill his stomach. At the moment he didn’t give a rat’s ass about nutrition; he just needed to taste something wonderful, something that would take his mind out of those awful, dark places it seemed to be going far too often these days, and for much too long. Comfort food was the order of the day.

Even that wasn’t working as well as it once did. He ate mechanically, barely aware of the sweetness of the syrup or the fluffy texture of the pancakes. Then Teal’c gently probed him about what was bothering him and Daniel was hard pressed to throw him off the scent. Dealing with this problem took all of Daniel’s attention and he was aware that he needed to do something about it. Only he didn’t have a clue what that something might be.

How could he turn something off when he couldn’t understand what the hell it was?

His head whipped around at the sound of Jack caterwauling the birthday song. Relief flooded through Daniel, glad for the distraction. He joined in as he urged Teal’c to stand up, the Jaffa eyeing the breakfast crowd balefully. Moments later, the whole team was seated and enjoying a little pleasant conversation about the plans for their oldest member’s party.

Daniel joked with Sam about Jack’s serenade, knowing it would get a rise out of the older man, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“You know, I’m gonna remember that come July when it’s your turn,” said Jack. “Just you wait.”

Daniel pretended to be terrified, widening his eyes. “Uh... Jack, the only thing I want for my birthday is for you not to sing to me. Can I have that? Pleeeeease?” He put on a comically witless grin, his eyebrows arching up his forehead.

Jack ignored that, opting instead to talk about everyone’s plans for the day, starting with the photo session next on the list. Daniel’s mind wandered, almost wishing they’d get into a series of back-to-back missions that would keep them busy. The next one up, to PX7-449, promised to be a relief. Not a soul on the planet anywhere except the four of them, surrounded by ice and snow for at least a week.

Daniel complained briefly about the cold, having grown up much more accustomed to desert heat, but Jack took his complaint as a sign of being neglected. His reminder about social invitations led to a disagreement on how to spend leisure time, which simply reminded Daniel that he’d been intentionally avoiding going out with his friends in order to engage in his secret nighttime pursuit for most of the last month. Talk circled mercifully back around to work and he began to relax a little. Daniel’s mind was on autopilot, answering questions while playing with the syrup on his plate, just about falling asleep as he waited for everyone else to finish.

He thought about getting more coffee but then Teal’c left and Jack and Sam started discussing alien doohickeys and sleep threatened to steal over Daniel once again. He was so tired, so distracted, and wished for nothing more than a good night’s rest in a peaceful place. Maybe when they camped out on that snowy planet…

“Daniel, you fallin’ asleep, there?” asked Jack, giving him a nudge with his elbow.

“No,” he sighed back. “Just thinking.” He put his fork down and straightened, and lightning bolts of bright pain shot through his muscles. He winced and groaned, unable to stop himself, certain the others would take notice. Terrified he’d have to come up with some sort of explanation for his uncharacteristic aches, he stared down at his plate, thinking furiously.

This time, however, fortune was with him and no one seemed to notice. At least, no one questioned him, which was a great relief. The surge of adrenaline helped him wake up, and he put on a great show of stretching and grunting as a cover. Minutes later, they were off, heading for Level 17.

Just as they reached the doorway, Jack’s comment about his glasses and lack of threads reminded Daniel that he’d left his jacket for the green fatigues in the locker room and his regular frames in his quarters. On the elevator ride down to 25, Daniel thought idly about clothes. He really didn’t have any, other than what the SGC had issued him and the blue robes in which SG-1 had found him a few months earlier on Vis Uban.

Maybe it was time he went off the base and did some shopping. That could give him an excuse to get out a little, do something other than work and try to remember what it was like to have a life. He must have had one once; he just couldn’t recall it. There was almost nothing in his memory of Daniel the man. Sometimes there were fleeting glimpses of the team at a restaurant or other outing, and of course there were fragments of his life on Abydos with Sha’re, but that was all.

He had observed others at the base leaving at the end of their shift or after a mission, talking about the activities they planned to enjoy, the families waiting for them, or the fun they’d had when they returned, fresh and rested from their downtime. Yet no matter how he searched in his mind, Daniel couldn’t recall having that kind of a life, where he really lived. He wasn’t sure he knew how that was supposed to be done.

He snagged the jacket and hurried back to the elevator. When he reached the studio doorway, he stopped and just watched for a moment. For the first time, he noticed the clothing rack, hung with Jack and Sam’s dress blues plus several other outfits, regular clothes as well as military wear. Teal’c stood to one side dressed in his Jaffa armor, sans headpiece, and it dawned on Daniel that this was a real photo session, not like the one he’d been taken through to get his civilian ID made for the badges and such after he first arrived on the base.

They weren’t just taking quick snapshots. These were official portraits. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his scattered, exhausted wits to prepare for the photography session, knowing he looked like he felt.

“Hi, Daniel,” Sam called, waving a little. “What took you so long?”

“I had to go to the locker room for my fatigue jacket and my quarters for my glasses. What’s with all the clothes? And why is Teal’c in his armor?” Daniel didn’t understand why the SGC would want a portrait of the Jaffa as a Jaffa, and not in Tau’ri clothes.

Moments later, he returned to the locker room for his BDUs -- both the greens and the desert gear -- and stopped by his quarters for the blue robes, just in case.

He hated having his picture taken.

When he returned to the studio, the topic of conversation was Colorado Springs’ enigmatic Man in Black. Daniel pretended ignorance, listening to what the others thought about the man. Teal’c considered him a great warrior. Sam was positive but reserved and Siler was openly enthusiastic. Predictably, Jack thought the Man in Black was nuts.

Daniel wanted to say something to defend the nighttime crime fighter, but he couldn’t. It was better -- safer for him -- if he kept his opinions to himself. The people on his team knew Daniel Jackson better than he knew himself and he knew he was already giving away clues. Eventually, with enough evidence, one of them was going to figure it out and confront him, and when that happened, he simply didn’t know what he’d do. It depended on who it was. Teal’c or Sam would probably keep his secret, at least for a little while longer. Jack wouldn’t take the news well and regulations would require him, as commanding officer of his team, to report Daniel to General Hammond.

Daniel didn’t want to end up in a mental institution again. There was nothing wrong with his mind.

At least, he didn’t think he was mentally ill. He was pretty sure of that, since he wasn’t having hallucinations and was still rational. As to what was wrong with him, he was trying to find the answer to that on his own but his methods weren’t working.

He thought back to the images that had driven him out into the night that first time, how deep they went, pulling him into the darkness like a sleepwalker. A month back he had taken a taxi to Cascade and Cimarron, getting out to just walk the streets, his coat pulled up around his face to fend off the early spring chill. He’d been wearing a turtleneck Jack had loaned him for an outing the team planned for the next day, since Daniel didn’t own many street clothes at the time.

The liquor store robbery had drawn him in like a magnet. Just before stepping through the door, Daniel had pulled the sweater’s thick neck over the lower part of his face, knowing the store’s security cameras would tape what happened next. Moving strictly by instinct, Daniel had come up behind the robber, disarmed him and knocked him cold with military precision, just as he had been trained.

Still, Jack was right and Daniel knew it. Someday soon, one of the people he hunted would get lucky or be a little faster, a little stronger, and the Man in Black might possibly be unmasked in the morgue. He looked down at the studio floor, silently giving in to Jack’s appraisal of his alter ego. Maybe he was crazy. Now, for the first time, he began to consider the possibility that he might be slipping off the edge of sanity, and that terrified him.

He needed to think about something else, to distract himself and stay in the moment. He watched the sergeant work his photographic equipment, listened to Jack’s wisecracks and teasing and thought about the work waiting for him in his office. Gradually the grip of fear on his mind gave way and he began to relax a little.

The photo session seemed to last forever. There was a lot of standing around and talking while Siler took pictures of whoever was under the lights, and then there were team photos where they all had to change clothes several times so their outfits matched. Teal’c finally excused himself to go to the gym and Sam pulled out a black garment bag, which she held out to him.

With a little surprise, he unzipped it with excited hands, touched that his teammates got him something special to wear for the pictures. The suit inside blew him away, because he could tell that it was an expensive one and that his friends had taken care to choose what he would like, in the right size and color to fit him. His eyes felt wide as saucers as he looked at the beautiful gray silk. For a moment he was speechless, running his fingers over it in amazement.

Sam smiled warmly at him. “Like you said, we gave away all your clothes. We thought you should have a nice suit for your formal portrait, so we took up a collection. Janet and I picked it out. There are dress shoes and socks to match in the box under the garment rack. You won’t need ‘em for the portrait, but you will when you wear your new suit tomorrow for the official inspection.”

Daniel’s heart filled up with warmth. He couldn’t remember anyone ever doing something this nice for him. There were still a lot of holes in his memory, but he was sure this was the best present he’d ever received, and it came from his friends, for no reason at all other than they wanted him to have it. He swallowed down a sudden tightness in his throat.

“It’s beautiful, Sam. Thank you.” Daniel’s hands touched the cloth, rubbing the lapel between thumb and fingers, smoothing down the front. He took it from her and pulled it close to his chest, almost hugging it as he walked to the changing area.

He was smiling as he emerged, touching the sleeve in awe. It fit him perfectly and felt great. He was still touching it when he sat down on the stool and Sam came over to straighten his tie.

“That’s my dad’s tie-tac.” Her fingers adjusted the V-shaped wings into a perfectly upright position.

Daniel was moved by that. He remembered Jacob and knew that Sam’s father viewed him as family. Jacob even called him Danny.

“Now it belongs to you,” Sam went on fondly. You’re the only guy I know who’s earned wings of a whole other kind, and he and Selmak aren’t gonna be wearing this again, so we wanted you to have it.”

He saw her fingers make a halo over her head.

Daniel wasn’t an angel. Everything he knew about that experience he had learned from his teammates, things they had told him about times they saw him as an ascended being. He didn’t remember any of it, but he was sure he hadn’t been in Heaven. Lately, he was beginning to wonder if he had been in Hell.

He swallowed hard, looking up into her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a suit as nice as this one, Sam. Thank you.” Daniel hugged her for a moment, grateful to have a friend as warm and caring as she was. He watched her smile and wave goodbye as she continued her day doing Sam Carter things.

Jack stepped out shortly afterward and when Siler was finished, Daniel gathered up his meager selection of outfits and stopped by the locker room to put them away. He headed to his office for some serious translating, still wearing his suit, reluctant to take it off just yet. Before he got started, however, he set his computer to chime when he needed to leave for his appointment with Jack. It wouldn’t be long, but Daniel knew if he didn’t set a timer, he’d completely forget about it and Jack would come haul him out of his office by the ear.

It seemed only a moment had passed when the chime went off. Leaving his books and notes as they were on the desk, he rose mechanically and headed for the locker room, his mind still toying with the multiple meanings of the word he’d been studying. It was key in the phrase, with the potential to take the whole sentence in many directions. He stood before the open space that served as his closet, his nameplate recently restored to its former place. Carefully removing his jacket, he put it on a hanger just as Jack came into the room.

“Okay, where is Daniel Jackson and what have you done with him?”

Daniel turned to look at his C.O., perplexed by that question. “Huh?”

He had wondered that very thing for the last few weeks. He didn’t seem to be the same guy he’d been before ascension; but then, Daniel Jackson was constantly evolving. All through his life he’d tried hard to hold on to his basic character and adapt to whatever circumstances required of him; first with adjusting to the demands of life on digs with his parents, then foster care, then the academic world and now, the military world of the SGC. For a while he’d felt comfortable in his skin, at peace with his second chance at life, pleased to be making a difference on SG-1.

Since that first troubling vision, however, it was getting harder and harder to understand who he really was, underneath it all. Daniel simply wasn’t sure anymore. Late in the day and in early mornings he was confused, exhausted and barely able to keep his wits together at any given moment. Weariness nagged at him during the day, but at least he could keep his wits about him and function somewhat normally.

He shrugged off Jack’s teasing inquiry and raced to change into sweats, beating Jack by the flick of a shoelace. After a fun dispute about who beat whom, Daniel finally acquiesced to a draw and they headed for the gym. He found he enjoyed the banter with Jack. It had taken a few weeks for that to come back, and with it came a flood of memories and that uncanny connection with his older friend that made Daniel feel that he was truly home at last.

By the time they entered the spacious room, they had decided on the skills they wanted to sharpen with their workout. Jack liked to talk about what he knew well, and he was a good teacher. The depth and breadth of his skill in this area was simply mind-boggling. Jack O’Neill was a death machine beneath the sometimes charming, sometimes funny, hard-to-take-seriously man on the surface.

Getting started was hard. Daniel’s body protested, reminding him how banged up he was. Jack saw it, of course, and asked him about the pain.

Daniel lied to him, concocting what he thought was a plausible explanation of falling against the stair railing in the briefing room, rather than admit he’d gotten kicked by a would-be rapist in the middle of the night. He felt bad about lying to his best friend but it was necessary. Jack seemed to buy it after a brief inquiry and let it go, moving them swiftly into training mode.

Daniel felt the sweep coming and let Jack take him down with it. He knew how to counter that, how to keep from getting into that position in the first place, but it was best that Jack didn’t understand just how well his student had picked up all the moves. String Jack along, let him see progress mixed in with confusion and keep his curiosity at bay. Learn no faster than Jack expected him to learn and all would be well.

He picked up some new moves under Jack’s expert supervision and then they shifted to take-downs. Jack threw him again, this time offering him a hand up. Daniel’s body was aching, begging for him to quit, but he couldn’t. Jack hadn’t worked him hard enough for that kind of pain and if he showed what he was feeling, he’d tip his hand for sure. Jack would know something else was going on and Daniel didn’t want to talk about it.

Teal’c called to him then and pitched him a rubber training knife. He caught it instinctively, flipped it around in his hand and waited. Jack argued with him about how he held it but Daniel was more competent with it in the reverse position. He had learned the basics of knife-fighting a lifetime ago, taught by José, a friendly guide in the Yucatan, after the academics at the dig site had a run-in with some bandits. José had saved their lives and made sure that those who were fit enough spent a little time each day learning to defend themselves with a blade. Daniel had taken the study a lot farther from that starting point, but no one at the SGC ever knew about his competence with edged weapons.

Jack had never noticed Daniel’s skill with a knife and that was a good thing. Other than cutting down saplings or filleting a fish, Daniel had never had occasion to use it in the field. Pistol and P-90 were the weapons of preference, followed closely with zats. Only on rare occasions did they have to resort to using their fists, and that was usually after they’d been disarmed completely, so Jack had never witnessed what Daniel could do with a blade in his hands and his life on the line.

Daniel was still remembering José when Jack gave him the signal to start. Without thinking, he stepped in close, blocking Jack’s hands with his body, and cut instinctively. When he finished the movements he realized what he’d done, but it was too late.

Jack’s eyes were glaring at him in surprised admiration. He knew. Maybe he didn’t know everything yet, but it wouldn’t take him long to figure it out. He’d be watching every move now, every gesture, studying the man he thought he knew so well, looking for other clues to the warrior beneath the scholarly surface.

In time, Daniel knew, Jack would see the Man in Black.

He apologized, angry with himself for his lack of control. Jack didn’t buy it for an instant. Worse still was the fact that Teal’c had seen it already and that assessment was responsible for the big guy tossing him the knife in the first place. Teal’c wanted him to show Jack just how apt his pupil was.

Had Teal’c figured it out already? When had the Jaffa ever seen him use a knife?

Daniel risked a glance at those big, dark eyes that saw so much, and saw pride gleaming back at him, mixed with speculation and a deep curiosity.

Maybe. Maybe not. Daniel couldn’t be sure.

He tried to joke it off, act like he’d never thought about his proficiency with weapons, and as quickly as he could, he got out of there. By the time he made it to the locker room he was sweating profusely and ducked into the showers just as Jack arrived. They didn’t speak, didn't make eye contact in there, but Daniel squirmed under Jack’s indirect attention focused like a laser on him, curious and assessing, thinking about what he had just seen.

His head was pounding again. His hands were shaking; the lights in every room seemed unbearably bright. It made him nauseous and all he wanted was to lie down and sleep, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up appearances. Daniel got out of the shower well before Jack and hurried into the locker room to change.

He was back in his new suit and sunglasses and at his desk in a hurry, grateful for the cover of solitude. Daniel threw himself into his work, unaware of the passage of time. He shut out all the distracting clutter that had filled his mind of late and concentrated on the words. He loved words, the way language captured ideas and conveyed them, the way different cultures created concepts others missed completely. Language was a thing of beauty, perhaps the greatest achievement of humanity. Words could wound. They could be powerful weapons as well as instruments of peace and healing. They could paint pictures of infinite beauty and touch hearts and minds long after the writer was dust.

He pulled open a drawer and lifted out the wrapped gift he’d made for Teal’c. If he gave this to his friend, it could well be an admission of guilt. It could be the last piece in the puzzle, the broadest hint of his secret identity, but he had nothing else suitable for a present. This was what he’d wanted Teal’c to have, and had gone to a great deal of trouble locating a source to have the pages professionally bound so it would look nice on a bookshelf or bedside table.

With a sigh, he slipped the book back into the drawer and opened his personal journal, this one written not in English, as most his journals were, but in the flowing Elvish script he’d borrowed from JRR Tolkein as a boy. Not many people, modern linguists included, could read that writing, so he felt his secrets were safe, hidden in plain sight.

There was no possibility of changing gifts now. Daniel hadn’t been engaging in his nighttime hobby when he had decided on that homemade book for Teal’c’s birthday present, and if the rest of the team found him out, so be it. He’d deal with that as it came.

Daniel read over the first entry after the aborted liquor store robbery, more than a month earlier.

I was drawn to that place at that time as if I knew I should be there to help. Everything happened so fast I couldn’t think, and I just got out of there as quickly as I could. I couldn’t sit down for half an hour after it happened and felt completely wrung out once the adrenaline wore off. Writing this now the morning after, I can say I had the best night’s sleep ever, filled with contentment and peace. I'm strangely fulfilled, as if this is my true calling, though I know it's not. It just feels really good to have saved a life all by myself.

The next night’s entry was not so positive.

It’s as if I can tell the future, though I know I’m no clairvoyant. Maybe it’s something else, some sense of intent or evil that draws me to the place. Tonight a man was preparing to set an old apartment house on fire, probably a hired job, but I don’t care about the reasons why. There were people still living in that place and the death toll would have been unthinkable. I knew it was going to happen. I had to go there, knowing already what I would see, terrified of what I had to do.

Is this something left over from the Ancients? I have no idea what the source might be for this… power, for lack of a more descriptive word. It appears to be growing stronger and I feel I must prepare for what is to come. I don’t know how to fight well enough, though I’m learning that. There are other considerations, too. I’ve been lucky so far that no one’s pointed a gun at me, but that may not always be the case. There needs to be some planning on my part, shoring up of my defenses.

And God forbid I should get caught! The SGC would be hard pressed to help me out if I’m hauled in as a vigilante. Jack would be supremely pissed off at me personally, for one thing. I can’t take the risk of being on the scene when the police arrive, so I’ll need some transportation for a quick, quiet getaway.

I can’t believe I’m really considering doing this. I just feel as if I don’t have a choice.

I have the notion that my double life is going to get expensive. It’s a good thing I’m making some money now. I’ll need protective gear, too, and someplace to store all this stuff that’s not on the base, somewhere private. That will take some time. I’ve got the day off tomorrow. Maybe I’ll sign a car out of the motor pool and take care of as much of this as I can then.

Of all the things I thought my future might hold when I was a boy, this was never on the list. Part of me is laughing at myself, at how foolish it is for me to think I can pull this off and keep it a secret. Another part is curious, wondering how all this happened. And then there’s the part that’s scared to death that something terrible will go wrong and I’ll look back and see what an incredible fool I am, being here at all. I should’ve died after Kelowna. That’s what was meant to be, and I found a way out. Now I’m back in my body, and I’m dealing with this weirdness.

God, what I’d give for a normal life! But then, after all I’ve seen and done, I’d probably die of boredom.

The next record had been written a week afterward.

I found a storage place that has plenty of space, ground floor storage rooms with roll-up garage doors, and the one I rented is in the middle of the complex, with no clear view of the street. I should be able to go in and out without being seen and the motorcycle is perfect, not too big to handle or noisy, but still plenty of speed if I need it. I spent some time getting the Ducati logos off, which wasn’t easy, but I figure there aren’t many of these on the street, so with the brand name announcing that, I’d attract more attention, which is the last thing I want.

There’s something satisfying about this vigilante thing and I’m happy with that. But it seems that, the more I’m out doing it, the more I need to be out doing it. The violence seems to be escalating, getting more dangerous each time I go out. Worse still, the visions themselves are darker and more disturbing. I’m not sleeping much, partly because I’m so battered and exhausted by the time I make it to my bed that my body has a hard time relaxing before the alarm goes off in the morning.

It’s hard to sleep now. If I close my eyes I wake up screaming, horrified to the point that I’ve taken to keeping a trash can by my bed in case I vomit, which has happened once or twice. The only way to satisfy the visions is to go out and help someone, but seeing these terrible things happen right in front of me is far worse than watching in my imagination.

I don’t see how I can keep living this double life. I have to get some rest, and the only time I seem to be able to sleep is during the day, when I should be working. I feel powerless to resist this urge to go out and help. I’ve tried to stay in, tried to pick and choose, but I’m losing that battle. That choice is slipping away from me. As my poor body will function, I’m driven to go out for as long as I can to do battle.

I’m terrified of all this, of what’s happening to me. Something’s going to have to give, and I just hope it’s not my mind. I’ve been through that before, and don’t want to go there again. I just don’t know what else to do.

He took up his pen and started to make a new entry.

I can’t remember when the last time was that I slept for more than a couple of hours. I know it’s been a few days at least. It’s hard to concentrate and I’m getting reckless. I think it’s time I told somebody what’s going on, but not tonight. Tonight is Teal’c’s birthday and I don’t want to be locked up in the infirmary and miss his party.

I’ll do it after I get back to the base tonight. Maybe tomorrow afternoon instead, after all the hoopla of the coming inspection, so I don’t cause Dr. Fraiser any hardship. I’ll wait until the circus is over and tell her what’s been happening. She won’t think I’m nuts unless all the test results come back negative, but I’m hoping she’ll find some reasonable explanation for why this is happening to me. I wouldn’t be stalking the streets of Colorado Springs, hunting down criminals, if I had a choice. I know what I’m doing is saving lives and therefore important, but this isn’t fun. Far from it.

Just then Teal’c knocked on the frame around the open door. “It is time, DanielJackson,” he announced. “Are you ready?”

“Just one second,” Daniel replied, jotting down a final note in his journal.

I think I’d rather just sleep.

He sighed, closed the journal and slipped it into a drawer, then started stacking the other books on his desk. He rose as he took the wrapped present out of the open drawer, tucked it under his arm and offered his teammate a smile. “All set, Teal’c. Let’s go.”

His mind returned to dealing with his double life in the car on the way to the restaurant. Teal’c remained quiet as he drove, and Daniel looked out the window at the city covered in darkness. He could already feel that pull, that sensation at the back of his mind, an excruciating awareness of impending violence that he tried desperately to shut out.

Daniel followed Teal’c inside Jack Quinn’s, glancing around at all the people. It was a busy place, popular with the weekend crowd. The waitress took them to their booth and Daniel sat down next to Jack, needing the man’s upbeat mood to counteract his own.

He tried joking, but his heart wasn’t in it and it showed. Moments later, Sam joined them and Daniel began to feel a little better. She had a calming effect on him, and having the four of them there together seemed to help Daniel relax.

Then Jack gave her a look. She shot one back at him and Daniel’s curiosity leaped up.

“He promised,” Sam said emphatically. “They’ll be ready.”

“Who promised what?” Daniel asked, looking between them. “What will be ready when?”

O’Neill’s eyes twinkled. “You wanna add a ‘where’ and ‘how’ for good measure, there, Daniel?”

“You will find out tomorrow,” Teal’c assured him. “For now, we must celebrate another year together... and the return of one we have greatly missed.”

Daniel was touched by the warmth and joy in his friend’s eyes. All of them were smiling at him, even Jack. That felt good. In that moment, Daniel felt a new resolve that he really did belong back with his friends, helping them with their work at the SGC. These were the people who were closest to him in the whole world, and he felt guilty for keeping such an important thing from them. He glanced down at the book wrapped in gold paper on the bench beside him that he felt sure would announce to them all what he did in his spare time.

If it didn’t, he would tell them. He would ask their help. But not tonight. Tonight was for Teal’c, and he didn’t want to spoil that by making himself the object of attention. He would wait until tomorrow.

Only he couldn’t sit still, no matter how he tried, until finally Jack called him on it. They talked and drank and ate companionably and Daniel enjoyed that, but nagging at him was the sense that he needed to be somewhere else. Things were happening; dark, unspeakable things, and he needed to stop them. He glanced down at his hands as he scooped up a forkful of boxty, certain he could feel invisible bonds tightening around his wrists.

Forbidden.

He stopped chewing as the word echoed in his mind.

You must not interfere.

His stomach roiled. Flashes of memory seared his mind.

Jack, in Baal’s prison. Teal’c and Brata’c, lying on the battlefield. Brata’c and Rya’c, in the death camp. Abydos, vanishing in a cataclysm of light and sound.

His hands started to shake. He forced the half-chewed bite of food down his throat, following its progress down his esophagus. He couldn’t eat any more after that and his dinner sat in a cold lump in his stomach.

The plates were cleared away and suddenly it was time for gifts. Daniel tried to push those terrible thoughts away, to concentrate on the present and enjoy Teal’c’s birthday. He watched his friend open Sam’s card and Jack’s new video game, still trying to decide if he was ready for the revelation.

It was way too late for him to have second thoughts about his gift now. He didn’t have a choice. He pushed the package across the table to Teal’c and looked away, in case any of them put two and two together and made four. Jack would be first to speak, to gently question whether Daniel had lost his mind. Teal'c would be proud but worried about him. Sam would be shocked. And then they would take him back to the base and lock him up. If they did that, if they kept him from going out into the night, he was afraid he would die. Whatever it was that pushed him to do this vigilante thing, it was too powerful now to resist. He stared at the floor imagining the terror he would feel if he found himself caged behind a locked door again. If they imprisoned him, he thought he really would lose his mind.

His palms were sweating. His clothing felt restrictive. Perspiration trickled down between his shoulder blades and beaded up on his forehead and upper lip. He was shaking now, seeing the faces of an old woman as she wakened suddenly to quick, brutal death, her image bright and hazy with light that made Daniel’s eyes hurt.

Daniel struggled to drag his attention back to the people around him, back to the restaurant booth where they sat. By some miracle of fate, his companions didn't make the connection. Daniel relaxed a little as they all examined the little book. Everyone seemed impressed by his choice.

Teal’c seemed especially pleased. The look he gave Daniel was filled with warmth and admiration, just the slightest smile playing about his lips. Once again, Daniel wondered if Teal’c knew.

He studied the Jaffa, suddenly aware of little tendrils of blue and green light waving about the man. Daniel looked at Sam, now emitting a glowing golden radiance that sparkled and shimmered all around her. He glanced at Jack and then around the room at all the other patrons of Jack Quinn’s, and everyone looked like they were on fire. Insides clenching, Daniel turned back to look at Teal’c.

That horrifying vision surged into view again, blotting out the Jaffa’s pleased smile. Daniel had to go immediately if he was going to arrive in time.

“Uh, sorry, Teal’c, but I have to leave now,” he heard himself say suddenly. The waking nightmare clamored for his attention and he beat a hasty retreat, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and calling for a taxi before he even reached the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, when the car pulled up to the curb, Daniel got in and shut the door.

“Where to, buddy?” called the driver over his shoulder.

Daniel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

I can’t go out again, he told himself. I just can’t. This has to stop. I can make it stop, if I try hard enough.

“Cheyenne Mountain,” he answered stiffly, his voice unnaturally deep and hoarse.

“Yes, sir.”

The driver pulled away from the curb and drove him straight to the base, dropping him at the gate. Daniel paid his fare and gave a generous tip, then stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, his suit jacket buttoned up against the chill of the April evening. He walked the long way from the guard post where the taxi dropped him, down the winding lane across the foot of the mountain and across the wide parking lot. He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, body sweating and twitching every step of the way to the entrance of the mountain. The brisk fifteen minute walk seemed to take forever.

His hands were still cold as he signed in on the 11^th floor, but what bothered him more was the weird stuff going on with his vision. Everything appeared to be glowing. Pale radiance shone from the walls and floor, brighter outside when he’d looked at dirt and plants. People were fiery bright, their images transparent as he watched them glow.

He hurried to his quarters, turned off all the lights and took off his sunglasses as he sat on the side of the bed. Holding out his hand in front of his face, he could clearly see the outline of his fingers and hand, his whole body lighting up the room. He rose to go to his bureau for pajamas, undressing with hands that shook so hard he just left his clothes where they lay. His whole body was quivering and he dropped his pajama pants twice before managing to pull them on.

Daniel started pacing, his hands flexing as he tried to shut the other visions out.

“I can stop this,” he said aloud to the empty room. “I can stay here. I can close my eyes and see nothing.”

He stood still and tried it.

The old woman he had seen in the restaurant had died screaming. He could hear her terrified shriek, smell her blood in the air, and the light of her body went out before his eyes. He was too late, had waited too long, and now she was dead because he hadn’t saved her.

“Oh, God.” He put his hands to his head, squeezing. “Please, make it stop!”

Another vision slid into view.

Daniel whimpered, falling to his knees. He bent over, cowering on the cold concrete floor, arms crossed over his head. Heart full of horror, he wept as he watched those strangers die in his mind, certain that, if he logged onto the local news via internet the next morning, he would learn the name of the old woman he had allowed to die. Now someone else needed his help. He had the chance to help someone else now.

How could he just stay below in his quarters and do nothing?

Go to them.

Bolting upright, Daniel glanced around, wondering where that deep, gentle voice had originated. There was no one in the room with him. He could see every inch of it, even without benefit of lights. Mouth so dry he couldn’t even swallow, he listened, straining to hear it again.

Had he really heard anything at all, or had it simply been an echo of his own consciousness, willing him out into the night?

You are needed. Go.

Instantly Daniel was on his feet again. He didn’t want to resist the urging, not really. He could do this, had done it many times, without being caught. And he was saving peoples’ lives. That mattered far more than his fear of being found out.

Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding his veins, he began to prepare for his mission with ruthless efficiency. He urinated in his tiny bathroom, washed his hands and put in the contacts he wore on these nightly missions.  Pajamas were hastily yanked off and jeans pulled on without bothering to hunt for underwear. Daniel hauled on a T-shirt, shoved his feet into boots, then grabbed his pass card and base ID on the way out the door, stuffing them into his right hip pocket while hurrying down the empty corridor. Jaws clenched, mind focused like a laser on the path that would take him to the surface, he waited for the elevator and checked his watch for the time.

It was just after midnight. He pulled out his cell phone and called for a taxi as soon as he hit the tunnel mouth, power walking all the way to the front gates. Running would make him look like he was in too big a hurry and draw attention to him, which he didn’t want. It was late, but people were always around and observant in a place such as that.

He arrived at the front gate at the same time as the taxi, which had made good time in the sparse traffic. Giving an address that would leave him a couple of blocks from the storage facility where his gear was stored, Daniel sat in the darkened back seat of the cab, listening to that compelling inner voice that he was learning to trust, already slipping into the meditative place that would help him use his energy most efficiently. Soon it would be time for the Colorado Springs ninja to make another appearance, then vanish afterward without a trace.

End of the Day

The story continues in Night Watch

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