Night Watch
Part II
Teal’c read the list of names aloud to the darkness, a small penlight shining down on the sheets of paper in his hand. He spoke in his native tongue, reciting the names of the fallen boldly and with great pride. When he finished, he read the words he had written to them, his tribute to their bravery and sacrifice.
For a moment he stood in the cool night air in silence, listening to the distant sounds of the city around him. Then he knelt down to the sheltered stone alcove where a small fire was burning and deposited both the list and the letter into the heart of the flame. He watched it catch, the fire burning suddenly brighter and hotter as it devoured the paper. Carefully tending it to prevent any sparks from floating away on the breeze, he guarded the fireplace until only ashes remained.
“It is a good day to die,” he whispered proudly.
He stood and raised his face to the night sky, gazing up at the stars, arms spread, a wide smile spreading across his lips.
“Behold!” he cried to the heavens. “These mighty warriors come to battle the darkness. Let them shine like a thousand suns. We celebrate their lives among us. We take pride in their brave deaths, for they have died that others may live. Honor them! Remember them always!”
His heart was pounding in his chest, his soul filled with the glory of the lost ones. He sent that joy up to the sky with the ashes of the list of the fallen. Slowly, gently, he felt himself settle and empty, satisfied that tradition had been met and that those warriors were now at peace.
He reached back and lifted the cowl over the top of his head, framing his face in the dark gray fabric. Turning, he began to make his way down the mountain to return to his quarters. He glanced at the mouth of the tunnel and saw a lone figure leaving, recognizing the man by his gait.
DanielJackson was leaving the base. He seemed to be in a hurry, his head pushed forward as his brisk walk became an easy jog. Teal’c knew that particular stride. The scholar looked like a man on a mission, an urgent mission, and he would let nothing get in his way. When he was that intensely focused, Teal’c believed DanielJackson to be almost unstoppable.
Teal’c stopped, narrowing his eyes as he studied the rapidly retreating figure disappearing into the darkness.
Pieces fell into place. Things he hadn’t considered suddenly made perfect sense. It was possible that the Jaffa was wrong. He would ask DanielJackson when he returned but until then, he would compare the log at the security desk to known dates and times to see if his theory was at least plausible.
He hurried down the mountain, both eager and alarmed about what he might discover when facts were compared to facts.
It was nearing nine o’clock when the cab dropped him near his destination, but Daniel was too wired to be weary. Doing this threatened everything he’d worked to help build at the SGC for the last… well, six out of eight years. Yet it was that last year he’d been ascended, when his hands – if he’d actually had any then – had been tied behind his back by Oma Desala and those damned rules. Possessing powers beyond mortal comprehension, he could have done anything as an ascended being – except the one thing he most needed to do: help Jack, Teal’c and the people of Abydos. His people, those who should have been under his protection.
He was making up for that now. If this was indeed something left over from being ascended, he welcomed it.
A shadow of a waking nightmare passed through his mind and he looked down at his trembling hands, his heart pounding so hard and fast it hurt. He was anxious to get out there, to go, to help.
The taxi had left him near a downtown hotel. From there, it was a short walk to the storage facility where he kept his things. As he walked briskly through the darkness, he became aware that tonight, the sensation that directed him through the night felt different. It was stronger now, and his vision was changing. Last night he had seen haloes around people, colorful lights that shimmered like living flames. Now the image of human shape and substance seemed transparent, each body the center of a bright conflagration that hurt his eyes. He could actually see through walls, through the metal bodies of cars, tracking the human “lights” inside them.
X-ray vision, he mused as he punched in the access code at the storage facility’s main gate near the street. That’s pretty cool.
He watched as the wrought iron barrier rolled back to allow him entrance to the grounds. Into the facility he walked, past rows of neat buildings with roll-up garage doors that covered each individual space, a second smaller walk-in door just to the right. Daniel fitted his key into the padlock on the garage door, removed and pocked the padlock, then went to the smaller door and punched in the access code. He entered the large storage room he’d rented less than a month earlier. It was cool and dark in the April night.
Flipping on the light switch, he closed the door. In the middle of the room stood a large black Ducati motorcycle. He had chosen that model because it was fast, powerful and quiet. A little black tape applied to the license plate gave it a new and incorrect number that could not be traced back to him.
Along one wall a bedroll where he sometimes rested for a few hours afterward because his energy was always so sapped when he was finished with these personal missions. Hanging above it was the uniform and equipment he had purchased discreetly on eBay. Daniel had planned carefully once the idea took hold of his imagination and now he was reveling in being able to make a difference, to make something good and positive happen in peoples’ lives. The doubts he had suffered earlier were eagerly thrust aside now. He was anxious to get started.
He took off his jeans and boots, laying them out neatly on the bedroll. He pulled on his Kevlar vest over his T-shirt, making sure it was snugly fitted to his torso. Next were the black pants, made of material that was thick like jeans but stretchy as sweatpants, designed to allow freedom of movement in covert operations. Then he put his boots on again.
The black motorcycle jacket with the stylish polyurethane ribs down the back was last, covering up the vest. It was a popular style these days. All the bikers were wearing them and blending in was exactly what he wanted.
Last of all, he pulled the black ninja-style mask over his head. He had bought it at a martial arts supply store in Denver, where his knowledge of Asian culture had provided him with enough material for casual conversation with the storeowner. He had made himself sound like a sensei, a master teacher of one of the Japanese disciplines so no one would think twice about why he might want the mask. Daniel had bought it to keep from being recognized since, when the hood was in place, all that showed was his eyes, the rest of his face covered with the stretchy black material. He strapped the black motorcycle helmet on top of that, raising the tinted visor so he could do a final check of the rest of his equipment.
Standing beside the Ducati, he bent down to secure the straps on the scabbard of his Japanese samurai sword, holding it securely to the bike’s frame. The katana’s hilt was in easy reach of his right hand. He took a moment to withdraw it, examining the blade in the dim light. It was plain, but well made and strong, its long, slender blade arching in a slight curve to an angled tip. This was the most perfect sword ever designed. The warriors who carried them, like Musashi, who had written one of the books Daniel had translated for Teal’c’s birthday, were some of the most feared in the world. This katana was the genuine article, purchased over the Internet to make it harder to trace to him.
With a sigh he slipped the gleaming blade into the scabbard, fixed his knives to hip and wrist, shut off the lights and rolled up the garage door.
Checking to see that no one was around, he pushed the Ducati outside the storage room and lowered the door. He walked the bike out into the parking lot, checking and listening to make sure no one was about. The storage unit was in the middle of the complex, with no clear view of the street so no one could see him from the more public area at the front. He lowered the garage door and locked it in case anyone else came into the complex while he was gone.
Mounting the bike, he slipped the key into the ignition and dropped the faceplate of his helmet into place. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, slipping into meditation. In the quiet night, he slowly brought his busy mind to stillness, to that place where he lost himself and the images became reality. Here he would see what was to come, and where he would need to go to prevent it from happening.
The baby lay cooing in its father’s arms as he sat on the sofa, watching television. The moment of tranquility was shattered by the sound of gunfire from outside. The man reacted, diving for cover while bullets destroyed a lamp that had been beside him and made puffs of stuffing explode out of the couch. The man looked down at the infant he had tried to shield with his body, but it was too late, too late. His wail of grief and horror filled the house, reaching out into the night in all directions.
Moments earlier now, Daniel could see the house from the outside, tiny and old, a white frame house in need of repair, set in a quiet residential neighborhood filled with similar run-down homes. Down the street he saw an old Chevrolet motoring quietly, a driver and two passengers in the car. It slowed down, and the front seat passenger looked down into his lap, checking the load and then thumbing off the safety from his pistol. The next instant, his arm lunged out the open window and he pulled the trigger until the gun was empty, deliberately shooting through the lighted windows of the house. Then the car sped away into the darkness.
Backing off further, Daniel saw the street, then the neighborhood, viewing the scene as though from the air, the pathway to his destination burned into his mind.
His heart thundered in his chest. He felt nauseous, his head pounding. “No,” he panted, barely able to catch his breath. He couldn’t let that baby die in such a senseless tragedy. He had to hurry if he were going to arrive in time.
Starting the ignition of the motorcycle, he headed straight to the street he’d seen in his vision, his mind focused and clear. His hands gripped the throttle, his eyes fixed on the road, weaving gracefully into the light evening traffic as if the bike were part of his body.
He pulled into the neighborhood, glancing around at the brightly lit homes, cars parked in the street as well as in driveways. Houses crowded close to one another and yards were small. This was a poorer neighborhood, one that had been slowly degenerating for decades. Few of the streetlights were working, and those that were lit were spaced far apart, leaving wide expanses of darkness in which he might hide and wait.
He switched off the headlight and sat on the Ducati between two parked cars, letting the motorcycle engine quietly idle in the shadows. He listened for the sound of that particular car motor. He didn’t have long to wait before the car appeared, just as he had seen in his vision, cruising slowly down the street, approaching that modest little house.
Daniel pulled out behind the car and drove along, edging up closer, slowly approaching the driver’s door. He watched the three men inside the vehicle craning their necks, all looking at that one house, their attention focused on their target rather than any bystanders or traffic on the street.
Daniel could see that they weren’t aware of him at all, every head looking to the right, out the passenger side windows.
The front seat passenger looked down into his lap, exactly as Daniel had seen in his vision.
The shooter was checking the load, Daniel knew. Then he would be thumbing off the safety and sticking his arm out the window. Daniel had only seconds to act.
He gunned the quiet engine, pulling up next to the driver as he pulled his sword from the scabbard mounted by his right leg. Matching the driver’s speed and driving along beside the car, he extended the shining blade into the driver’s open window, right in front of his face. The man was looking to the right, toward the house, and didn’t see the blade until he went to glance back at the street.
He stomped on the brake and brought the car to a screeching stop, every head whipping around to see what had happened. The driver turned his head and made eye contact, his eyes wide with surprise as Daniel yanked the blade out of the open window.
“Take off. Right now. And don’t come back,” Daniel warned, his voice a menacing growl. “Because if you do, I’ll know, and the cops won’t find anything but little pieces of all three of you.”
Daniel gunned the bike and drove it around in front of the car, squealing the tires as he made a sharp turn to face the car nose to nose.
For a moment he just stood there, legs spread on either side of the bike as he sat rock still, the sword pointing now directly at the windshield, challenging them, staring the driver down.
All three of the criminals now stared at him rather than the house.
Suddenly the driver apparently decided that tonight would not be a good night to die. The car’s tires screamed as it was rammed into reverse, backing all the way down the street to the nearest turn-off. With another squeal of the tires, Daniel heard it heading away into the night.
Daniel’s heart hammered in his chest, thrilled that they hadn’t decided to shoot him on the spot.
He sat there in the stillness, waiting to see if that was all that was required of him, hoping that now he would be able to go home and rest.
He wasn’t that lucky. Immediately another vision careened through his mind, this one…
Daniel took in a quick breath, wincing slightly at the images rushing through his consciousness. A man and woman sleeping in their bed, their innocent child at rest down the hall, and a predator coming to take what they held most dear... their lives.
This one would be bad, worse than all the rest. He didn’t have much time, couldn’t wait to think this one through. He sheathed his sword, opened the throttle and headed out of the neighborhood toward the highway. In his mind’s eye, he saw the affluent Westside neighborhood clearly; wide, well-landscaped yards surrounding large homes with garages, so few cars were parked on the street.
Guiding the Ducati onto US 24, Daniel ignored the speed limit, hurrying toward that terrible focus. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, mind focused like a laser on the crime scrolling through his consciousness. He gunned the engine, bending down low over the handlebars to reduce the wind drag and slip faster down the highway.
He felt every movement of the criminal, every glance up and down the sleeping street. Daniel sensed his intent as the man crept quietly into the family’s back yard, checking the windows and doors, carefully working the lock on the patio door to gain entrance. This was a personal vendetta, and Daniel had to hurry.
The intruder had his hand on the stairs and murder in his mind. The Man in Black could see everything he intended to do, repeated over and over like a mantra.
Daniel left his motorcycle on the well-lit street, hastily parked at the curb. If he were spotted this time, so be it. He didn’t have time to waste being careful with this one. He withdrew the sword and left his helmet dangling on the handlebar by the chinstrap.
Daniel could feel the killer’s foot on the second step inside the house, all his focus on that one man. There wasn’t time to try the front door, which Daniel knew would be locked anyway. He ran full speed at the house, hurling himself at a window in the front room, shattering the glass, hitting the floor in a well-practiced roll and coming up on his feet on the living room floor, sword at the ready.
The man on the stairs froze at the sound of breaking glass, turning to look at the ninja rolling across the floor.
Daniel took in the darkened room in a glance, the light from the streetlights outside the only illumination. The living room gave way to a wide foyer, flanked by stairs against the back wall.
He saw the man look his way, startled by his appearance. With gracefully precise steps, knees well bent, Daniel moved across the living room floor toward the foyer, left hand extended forward, right close in with the sword held in a reverse grip, the spine of the blade extended slightly from the underside of his forearm. It gleamed with reflected light from the street, casting little sparkles of light against the stairs.
“Leave now and live,” Daniel challenged, his voice husky with emotion, ringing with authority. “I know what you’re planning to do here.”
The would-be killer glared at him and pulled a pistol, aiming it right at him. “Well, if it ain’t the Man in Black,” he said with a growing smile. “You know what they say about those who live by the sword…” He cocked the revolver and closed one eye as he aimed.
Daniel started to move, making himself a hard target by keeping an uneven path as he advanced across the living room and into the foyer.
“…They get shot by those who don’t,” the killer finished with a chuckle.
Suddenly a light came on from the upstairs hall. “Oh, my God, it's Ben!” a woman screeched from the top of the stairs. “Doug, do something! He's got a gun!”
“Call the police, Anna,” said the man standing beside her, keeping his eyes on the two intruders. “You and Brian get back in the bedroom.” With a shaky hand, Doug aimed his own pistol at the man on the stairs, obviously terrified. "Anna doesn't want you, Ben. You can't have her, so leave us alone."
“Daddy, it’s the Man in Black!” cried a little boy, peering through the balcony spindles and pointing into the living room. “Don’t shoot him! He’s the good guy!”
The woman caught the boy by the arm and towed him back down the hallway, out of sight.
Everything happened fast then. The intruder fired his pistol at Daniel and missed when his target anticipated and sidestepped, still advancing. The homeowner fired at Ben and missed, the bullet lodging in the wall well behind him. The burglar ran toward Daniel, taking aim again but the space between them closed too quickly and Daniel brought his sword across the guy’s ribs, pushing the killer’s gun hand up with his free hand and spinning around to give the man a hard strike to the back with his left elbow. The cut from Daniel’s sword left the man’s shirt hanging open, a red stripe angling across his chest oozing blood.
A stream of curses erupted from the killer, who was maddened with rage, pain and fear. He stumbled into the living room and glanced up the stairs, firing off a shot in that direction to make the homeowner back up. Daniel lunged for Ben, who swung the butt of his pistol back to collide with the side of Daniel’s head.
He saw stars for a moment. It was a second he couldn’t afford to lose. Ben pushed the muzzle of his pistol hard against Daniel’s chest and fired. The concussion launched him backward, knocking the air out of his lungs and slamming him hard against the wall. Stunned for a moment, Daniel just stood there, panting, watching the criminal raise his gun again, this time aiming right for his forehead.
Daniel looked down the barrel at his own death. If this were really it for him, he was determined to make it count. He could still scare the fucker, and just maybe he might get lucky for the second time that night.
He grinned, narrowing his eyes at the man. “Come and get me, asshole!” he snarled.
The homeowner fired again, hitting the carpet a foot from where the killer stood. In the distance, the wail of sirens could be heard approaching. Ben decided to cut his losses and run, taking the shortest way out through the shattered front window, right across Daniel’s path.
"Next time, Anna," Ben shouted up the stairs. “You’re mine, and don’t you forget it! You’ll always be mine!” He turned to leave, hurrying across the living room.
Summoning every bit of strength he possessed, Daniel flipped the sword in his hand to a forward grip and lunged, slicing through the killer’s hamstring and dropping him instantly. The man lay screaming on the floor. Staggering forward, Daniel stepped on the man’s wrist to make him drop his pistol. When the guy let his weapon go, Daniel kicked the pistol across the room, well out of the intruder's reach.
He looked up at the terrified homeowner just as his son reappeared at the top of the stairs beside him. “Thanks for the save,” he told them breathlessly. “Don’t touch that pistol.” He pointed to the weapon on the floor. “Don’t let him get to it, but don’t touch it, either. The cops will need the fingerprints.” He couldn’t wait for a reply. He gave them a little salute and staggered toward the window, barely able to keep his feet.
“Thanks, Man in Black!” the little boy cried. “You’re my hero!”
“Brian, get back to your room!” the father growled roughly. “What did I tell you?”
Daniel shut that out, but the combination of the boy’s honest sentiment and the horrific searing pain in his chest brought tears to his eyes, which he wiped impatiently away. With some effort, he stumbled out to the street, gasping for breath against the pain. He half fell across the narrow seat, struggling to haul himself onto the Ducati. He started it up and rode away, driving in the opposite direction of the sirens, making sure he kept to the speed limit and didn’t draw attention to himself.
A block away, he carefully sheathed the sharp sword with shaking hands, and then struggled to take off the mask and put his helmet back on. He returned to the highway and eventually made his way back to the storage facility.
Tears of pain streaming down his cheeks made it difficult to see, but he managed the drive with only a few bobbles. At the gate, he fumbled to get his helmet off and, with hands shaking so hard he could barely make them work, he punched in the entry code, heart sinking as yet another vision began to surface, clamoring for attention.
“Not again,” he whimpered. He guided the bike through the gate, around the corner and into the interior driveway that led to his unit. His whole body was shaking, his chest hurting so much he could hardly breathe. “No more. Not tonight. I can’t.”
He parked the Ducati and pushed down the kickstand, just staring at the garage door, wondering how he was going to get the thing up and the bike inside.
Go.
Daniel tipped his face up to the starry sky and wept. He was sure he couldn’t do this again right now, but he also didn’t know how he could avoid doing it, because those inner voices were impossible to resist.
“God, help me,” he sobbed. “What do I do now?”
On his way home from work, Jack headed through the light traffic in his truck, the opera playing on the radio turned way up. He decided to stop off for a few household items he needed from Wal-Mart and got distracted while shopping. He bought way more than he intended, losing nearly an hour in the store. It was nearly 2130 hours, and he still had a couple of other errands to run before he went home for the night.
As he emerged from the store, Jack scanned the parking lot, partly out of habit, partly because something didn’t feel right. Plastic bags dangling from his hands, he walked to his truck, gaze sweeping the darkened cars. He turned in a complete circle as he stood by the driver’s door, then set his bags in the bed of the truck. He reached into his jacket pocket for his keys without taking his eyes off the scene.
He saw a suspicious looking man in an oversized denim jacket pop up from behind a dark blue Mercedes sedan. The guy was wearing a dark baseball cap pulled down over long, dirty blond hair. Jack watched him walk slowly among the cars in an area where one of the tall overhead lights was out. He studied the stranger, recognizing a predator when he saw one. A chill ran down Jack’s spine as his threat assessment instincts went into full alert.
The man was unshaven, and his eyes gleamed with dark intent, hungry and restless. Jack saw him raise his head as if he could sense that he was being watched. The man made eye contact for a few seconds, then walked briskly to another car, got in and drove away in a hurry. Jack had gotten a good look at him. He assumed the man must have decided to try another place for his shady activities.
This wasn’t anything that concerned Jack. No crime had been committed that he knew about, though he’d be sure to look in the papers the next day to be sure. He was just strung a little tight, both because of his worry over Daniel and the stress of the busy day. He knew he ought to be going home and getting some sleep.
He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. He passed a small hotel, heading north toward his Briargate neighborhood. On the street in front of him he spied a guy dressed in black, riding on a black motorcycle. There was no visible insignia on the bike, but from its lines and the quiet purr of the motor, Jack knew it was a Ducati.
Those were rare out on the street because they were expensive, and dealerships didn’t just spring up on every street corner. As far as Jack knew, the nearest one was in Denver. Ducatis were hot, with a completely different kind of reputation than Harleys, which were loud and heavy and mean, a biker’s bike. Ducatis were the Rolls Royce of motorcycles, sleek and fast, all quiet elegance. This one, all in black, purred like a kitten as it rolled to a stop at the next red light in full stealth mode.
Jack wanted a closer look at that hot machine. He followed the biker down a block, keeping a respectful distance while he ogled the bike. The guy drove carefully, obeyed all the traffic laws, and drew no attention to himself. Jack’s motor lust started to wane as the biker turned into the driveway of a storage facility. O’Neill continued to watch as he stopped at a nearby traffic light, taking one last look at the beautiful machine.
There was something naggingly familiar about the guy riding it, too. His build, the way he sat, the way his head turned to watch traffic, the motions of his hands on the controls. Intuition pulled at Jack, but he couldn’t think who he knew who might own one of those bikes.
Curiosity kicked in, and Jack wondered if – just maybe – this might be the guy that had the Springs in such an uproar. He smiled as he casually followed the biker with his eyes, teasing himself and imagining what a kook the guy would have to be to pull the shenanigans he had so far. What he wouldn’t give to talk some sense into the man!
While he watched, the biker took off his helmet with great difficulty, his body curled up over the handlebars as if he might pass out. The man struggled to punch in the security code that would open the wrought iron gate at the entrance of the storage facility. Jack saw the rider turn his head then, looking around him, his whole body moving with the rhythm of breathing as if he were panting, possibly in pain.
Jack decided he’d go see if the guy needed some help and started to turn into the driveway after him.
That was when Jack saw the biker’s face. His guts clenched as he realized this really could be the Man in Black. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief, a creeping cold gripping his heart as he recognized that familiar profile.
It was his best friend. Daniel Jackson.
Daniel could hardly make his hands obey him, fumbling with the lock on the garage door. His chest felt frozen, muscles locked up tight. It hurt to breathe, and he was sure he probably had a broken rib or two.
Daniel was sweating and panting as he returned to sit on the bike, trying to decide what to do. He switched the motor off and stared at the door in agony, wanting nothing more than just to lie down for a little while. Only he couldn’t get the door open in his present condition.
He leaned against the seat, glancing up at the stars. It had taken three tries before he managed to fully dismount the bike, his breath coming out in little gusts of pain after that monumental effort. Head down, tears obscuring his vision, he tried to think of some way to get the garage door up that wouldn’t require him to use his arms.
Go, the internal urge whispered in his mind. Others are waiting. You are needed.
“I can’t,” he whimpered.
Then he took one step closer to the Ducati, his mind now trying to assess how to get back on it so he could once again answer the call.
“Let me help you,” a familiar voice rumbled in the darkness.
Daniel jerked his head up to look directly into a pair of stern-looking, worried eyes that Daniel could barely see inside the glowing outline. “Jack! Shit! What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was high-pitched and breaking, breathless, revealing just how much pain he was feeling.
“That’s just what I asked myself about you when I saw you pull into this place,” Jack returned, his voice heavy with concern, “all dressed in black and riding a motorcycle. I think I know what it means, but I want you to tell me.”
Jack rolled the door up, waving Daniel inside as Jack pushed the heavy machine into the storage room and shut the door behind them. He felt along the darkened wall for the light switch and turned on the wan bulb.
Daniel just stood there with his head down, caught in the act, nowhere to run to and no place to hide. He was startled and a bit annoyed at finally being found out, but relief flooded through him at the same time. At last, someone knew. His secret was out, and now Jack could help him. He needed Jack to help him.
"It’s you, isn’t it?" Jack asked, an edge of concern in his voice. “Dammit, Daniel. You’re the ninja the Springs is in such an uproar about, aren’t you?”
"Yes.” There was no sense denying it now. “But I'm not crazy, Jack. I'm not," he insisted. Daniel hoped he wasn't, anyway.
Jack came over to him, eyes sweeping up and down, fear and worry in his tense stance. “Obviously, you’re not okay. Are you bleeding anywhere?”
An attempt to shrug brought a gasp of fresh pain to Daniel’s lips. “Some asshole... shot me. Close range. Don’t think I’m...” He groaned and winced. “…Bleeding. Hard to breathe.” He had to talk in short bursts between shallow breaths. It was getting a little better, but talking taxed him dramatically. “Don’t think I can. Lift my arms.”
"God damn it," Jack growled softly.
Face set, he came over to Daniel and fingered the jacket, taking note of the bullet hole and the scent of gunpowder clinging to it. “Of all the idiotic, stupid stunts you’ve pulled, Daniel,” Jack groused under his breath, “this takes the fucking cake. Now we can’t even leave you alone on your own world.”
“Not stupid,” Daniel argued. He panted through his mouth. “Saving lives,” he gasped through clenched teeth.
Jack nodded grimly. He carefully pulled the black leather jacket off, apologizing when Daniel grunted with pain. His expression softened a little as he spied the bullet-proof vest underneath. “You wore Kevlar. That was smart. Might be the only reason you’re still alive.”
Daniel wasn’t sure he could raise his head now so he didn’t try. His muscles were seizing up on him. Everything hurt. “I was thinking ahead. Knew somebody would. Shoot at me eventually. Just hoped it was. A body shot. Not in the head.” He offered a weak smile of apology, knowing how pissed off and worried Jack was.
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud!" Jack ripped open the closures on the sides of the Kevlar vest and lifted it off over Daniel’s head, letting it drop to the floor. Grasping the hem of Daniel's T-shirt, he tugged it free of his waistband and lifted the hem to check the area beneath where the hole had been in Daniel's jacket. A huge bruise covered most of his chest, already dark purple and blue.
Daniel saw the light that was Jack flare a sickly green for a moment as if he were suddenly ill.
Jack loosed a relieved sigh. “Well, you're not bleeding externally. That's good. We have to get you to the infirmary, though. By the looks of this bruising, you could have some internal bleeding, maybe a broken rib or two. We’ve gotta get you checked out, just to make sure.”
“Jack.” That was a plea. Daniel struggled to lift his head, wincing as he did. He still could only speak in small sentence fragments. “I’d rather. Call Janet. At home. Do this. Off the record.”
“You know what she’s gonna say.” He glared. "You probably know what I'm gonna say, too."
Daniel took a couple gasping breaths. “Yeah. Believe me. I've been hearing. The possible. Lectures. In my head. For a couple weeks now. Can’t we. Make up a story, Jack? I really don't. Want this. He winced with the effort that talking cost him. “To go on. Record. Anywhere.”
Jack considered. “Only if this was the last time you go ninja, Daniel.”
“I can’t. Promise that.”
“Then I take you to the base infirmary and this goes on the record. Hammond will remand you to the base, maybe even turn you over to civilian authorities. You may not be charged with anything but they’ll sure as hell want to know how you know where to go to catch a crime in progress. For that matter, so do I.”
“I can’t. Explain it,” Daniel muttered. “I just know. I just. Follow the evil. To its source. I can feel it. After nightfall.” He closed his eyes briefly and groaned. “It… it’s getting harder and harder. To shut out. I think it’s. Something left over. From when I was. Ascended. That’s the. Only explanation. I have. For what’s been happening to me.”
Jack was silent for a moment, assessing, taking it in. “Is it the only thing?”
The younger man lifted his head. “Dunno, Jack. I’m still working my way. Through all that. I can’t say. What might pop up later. I didn’t have this. Whatever it is. Until about a month ago.”
Jack lifted his hand and let it rest on Daniel’s shoulder where Daniel saw it burn with cool fire. Concern blossomed in his flickering bright silhouette. His voice was gentle. Worried. “Will you tell me if something else happens? Please?”
“I’m fine, Jack. I’ll be. Okay.”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the spreading bruise, then back up to Daniel’s eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I can see that.”
Sometimes Jack was eloquent about making his point. Daniel grimaced. “I’ll think about it. We’ll talk later. Okay?”
Jack nodded. They walked outside together. Jack locked up behind them and assisted his teammate into his truck.
As they drove, the strange mental summons still tugged at Daniel. He struggled against it, drawing on Jack’s presence and silent support for the strength to resist, to shut out the visions. Jack’s gentle conversation during the ride to Janet’s house helped distract him. Jack didn’t know it, but he was helping him stay sane.
Half an hour later, Daniel sat on Janet Fraiser’s sofa, his T-shirt pulled up and her skilled fingers probing at the bruise. He thought she was frowning but her expression wasn’t clear in the wash of light that he saw inside the boundaries of her physical form.
“I’ve been a doctor in the military for a long time, Daniel,” she said, an edge to her voice, “and I’m wondering why you didn’t go directly to the infirmary with this.”
“She should know the truth,” said Jack flatly. “Tell her. Or I will.”
Janet sat back on her heels on the sofa. “Someone shot you tonight, didn’t they? I’ve seen bruises like this before so I know what I’m looking at here. The truth, Daniel.”
Daniel nodded reluctantly. He was still hurting, but at least now he could speak a bit more normally. “Um… yeah. Close range impact against a Kevlar vest.”
The ghostly lines of Janet’s mouth firmed up into a frown. “Who shot you?” she demanded, now probing the bruise deeper toward its epicenter. “You’re lucky to be alive. What the hell happened?”
“Ow!” Daniel winced. “Does it matter?” he returned guiltily. “I’d really rather not say.”
“All right. You can give me the details later,” Janet scolded, pulling his shirt back down. “But you will tell me what happened. Let's go. We need to take some X-rays.”
“Want me to wake up Cassie while you dress and tell her where you're going?” Jack asked.
She smiled at him warmly. “She’s at a girlfriend's for the night, colonel. Nothing to worry about here.”
Looking down at Daniel, she patted his shoulder. “Let’s go. You can tell me about it on the way. Colonel, I’m riding in with you two. Give me a minute to get dressed.”
Daniel remained silent, in too much pain to move. Jack coughed nervously and reached into his pocket for his keys, then nodded toward the door. He helped Daniel back into the truck, then climbed into the driver’s seat and sat waiting for the doctor to emerge from the house.
“She needs to know the whole truth if she’s gonna figure out what’s wrong with you,” Jack told him.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Daniel snapped automatically, his jaw set stubbornly. He slumped against the door, avoiding looking at his companion, knowing how stupid he’d sounded. Of course something was fucking wrong with him.
“You’re not sleeping at night. You’re not eating. You fall asleep at your desk. You’re having migraines on a daily basis. You’re shaking like a junkie in need of a fix. You’re suddenly an expert at hand-to-hand fighting, particularly with a knife in your hands.” Jack’s glowing silhouette darkened. “You look like you’ve been in combat for a year, shell shocked and barely coherent. I’ve seen enough men on the battlefield, Daniel. I know the look when they’ve been fighting too long, and it’s all over you.”
Daniel looked up at him, at the way he brightened the night. He was filled with golden fire, his features barely discernable now to Daniel, just a shimmering shape studying him from behind the wheel. Daniel glanced back at the house, and he could actually see Janet inside, through the walls, her body an indistinct glow moving now toward the front door.
She stepped outside, flaring brilliantly now that there were no obstructions between them. She came up to the truck and spoke to Jack through the driver’s side window. “I'll meet you two at the base,” Janet told him.. “I decided I’d rather take my car, so you can tell me about it when we get there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack answered, starting the engine and backing out of the driveway.
Daniel sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass in the passenger window. “I don’t know what to say, Jack. I mean, I know you’re right, but…” He shrugged, turning to look at the light show that was Jack O’Neill.
“I didn’t realize how good a liar you are ‘til yesterday,” Jack mused. His tone of voice was light, casual, but the weight of his words was heavy with disappointment and suffering. "You stood there in the gym and lied your ass off, telling me you fell on those stairs when I knew damn well you hadn’t been to see Hammond, because we’d been keeping you away from there for days. I know sometimes lying is necessary but I thought, after all we've been through together--"
“I’m sorry,” Daniel shot back sincerely. “This wasn’t exactly something I thought you ought to know.”
“That’s not the point. I understand what 'top secret' means and lying about that stuff is second nature to me. You should have come to me with this.” Jack kept his eyes on the road and traffic but the stiffness in his posture made it perfectly clear how angry and distressed he was.
"I didn't know how," Daniel told him honestly in a small voice. "I mean, it's not something I can put into words. I don't know how it happens. It's like being inside a nightmare, except I can't wake up. It's just something I have to do. I’m actually compelled to do it."
"You prepared for it. You bought that motorcycle and all that gear. Daniel, you can't do this any more. You’re scaring me. I don’t wanna see you get yourself killed. It stops as of right now." He swallowed hard, his voice soft and concerned as he added, "And you never lie to me again." He glanced at Daniel. “Agreed?”
That hurt Daniel. He knew it was hurting Jack, too. “Never again,” he promised, “and I mean that. Word of honor.”
Jack’s eyes never strayed from the task of driving. “All right. From one warrior to another,” he reminded his friend. “I can accept that. Your word is good enough for me.”
There was something satisfying to that assessment for Daniel. It brought him a sense of peace, of things set right between them. Daniel didn't think Jack had ever considered him a warrior before tonight. Maybe something good had come from this after all. Daniel told him a little about the visions on the way back to the base, knowing that Jack was just concerned, and he wouldn’t judge him.
At the base, Janet ordered X-rays taken and then listened patiently to Daniel’s confession. After she got over the shock of his wild story, she went into full doctor mode, asking questions about Daniel’s disturbed sight and other physical anomalies, when they had started, how they manifested and what he had done to try to stave them off.
She ordered a battery of new tests. After checking his X-rays, she informed him that he did, indeed, have one broken and one cracked rib. She taped him up, medicated him for the pain, and checked him into the infirmary. Then she left to start full body workups on her newest patient.
Jack stared down at him from his usual perch on a stool as Daniel lay fidgeting in his regular bed in the small ward. “You okay now? How’s the pain? Need anything? And don’t say you’re fine, because I already know you’re not.”
“Pain’s better, and I don’t need anything but sleep.” Daniel draped his arm over his aching eyes, trying to shut out the brightness of his companion’s illuminated shape, but he could still see it even through his own arm and closed eyelids. He was exhausted and feeling short tempered.
A tense silence fell between them.
Jack cleared his throat. “Look, Daniel, I don’t know what you’re going through,” he said softly, “but I can tell you that you won’t be going through it alone. I’m here for you. So are Carter and Teal’c, right here if you need us. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together. We’re a team. I think you must’ve forgotten that since you’ve been back. You’re not alone anymore, dammit, and you should never think you are. Or act like you are.”
Daniel offered a weak smile. “I know, Jack. I know. I just… I have to do something. I can’t just don’t know how I can lie there in my bed at night and do nothing while people are dying.”
“So I’ll go with you,” Jack offered gently, “to watch your six.”
With a firm shake of his head, Daniel lowered his arm from his eyes and met Jack’s steady gaze. “No. It’s too…” His shoulders slumped as what he’d been about to say registered.
“…dangerous?” Jack finished for him. He nodded. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I asked you to stop.” He hesitated, absently pressing out a crease in the linens on the bed beside his friend’s shoulder. “Daniel, I know I don’t have to remind you that what we do here is important to the many, as well as the few. We save lives on a regular basis, lives of people who don’t even know about the danger threatening them. I’m not saying that the one or two you connect with in this…” His hands waved about, his mind searching for the right word to describe what Daniel had told him about this unsettling ability, “…this mystical ninja thing you’ve been doing don’t matter, but there have to be ways we can help them without putting you in the line of fire.”
Jack pointed to Daniel’s chest, right at the epicenter of the bruise, as a reminder. “Death can come for any of us at any time, Danny. I just wanna make sure it counts for something really big when I go, and if we have to lose you again, well…” He glowed a little brighter, his voice filled with sadness and admiration. “You seem to have a knack for making an exit. I just don’t want to tempt fate. You know?”
Daniel’s heart caught in his throat. He wished he could see Jack’s face, read his expression or his eyes, but his friend was only a Jack-shaped light filling up the room. Still, he could sense the depth of friendship flowing between them, the heartfelt concern, the anxiety, the pride. He was sure of that, though, that on some small level, Jack O’Neill was proud of him, of what he’d been doing. Shocked and alarmed, certainly; but part of him was cheering Daniel’s bravery and good deeds.
“Okay, Jack,” he sighed. “No more ninja runs. I already promised you. I won’t forget.”
The colonel wilted visibly with relief and smiled. “Great. Thanks.” He paused, head cocked, thinking. “So… you gonna sell the motorcycle now?”
Daniel tried to suppress a smile. “Sam’s birthday is next month. How about if I give it to her?”
“She’ll think you’re coming on to her. That’s an awfully expensive birthday present.”
“She knows me better than that.” He shrugged, still twitching. “I’ll think of something.” He squirmed in the bed. “I don’t deserve that wall, Jack.”
“It’s a done deal now, buddy. And there are some of us here who think you deserve it more than anybody else.” Jack patted his shoulder. “I’m gonna go home now. You okay for the night?”
Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I am tired.” The medication Janet had given him had relaxed him thoroughly. He yawned. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to sleep tonight.”
“I hope so. Call if you need anything. I’ll be back in the morning, first thing, Danny.”
Daniel felt a sudden peace filling him. Jack hadn’t called him that in a very long time. Maybe the tension and distance Daniel remembered between them was finally falling away, and they could be friends again as they had been in the early days. He hoped so. Whatever it took to restore that friendship, Daniel was willing to do. He knew Jack wanted to talk about all this. Some of it, though, like the way Daniel saw people now, he couldn’t describe, even with his skill with language.
Jack hesitated, something else on his mind, his brows pinched in confusion.
“What?” asked Daniel as he restlessly rearranged the blankets for the third time in five minutes.
Jack’s voice grew serious with concern. “You gonna be okay?”
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He offered a half-hearted smile of hope. “Good night, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“ ‘Night, Daniel. Stay put, okay?” He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and left for home.
Daniel lay in the bed in the softly lit room, staring up at the familiar ceiling. Another fragment of memory fell into place, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. He remembered Reese, standing in the ‘gate room with her, desperately trying to help her understand the cost of what she was doing to his world and what she had done to her own.
Your father made you wrong.
What if…
Daniel opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, his heart clenching inside his chest.
What if, when he descended, he’d come back wrong somehow?
Or what if this was part of his punishment by the Ancients, that he would be able to sense all this terrible evil and be forced to do nothing about it, to teach him a lesson?
“Oh, God,” Daniel whispered to the empty room. He felt certain that was exactly what had happened now. Living with a burden like that would drive him mad. Even now, his body desperate for rest, his mind hazy with drugs, he could feel it, those visions of horror rising up in his consciousness, pressing him to action, telling him exactly what would happen, and where it would be waiting.
Go, the awareness urged. Help them. You are needed.
He fought it. For many minutes, he tried desperately to resist the compelling need, lecturing himself about the promise he’d made Jack, but it was useless.
He got up and toddled on unsteady legs toward the doorway of the otherwise empty ward. He eased his head around the corner to catch sight of the nurse’s station. Due to the late hour, there was only one nurse on duty. She was busy, head down, writing in a chart. Impatience gnawed at him like a physical thing, prodding him to move. If he were caught he was sure they wouldn’t allow him another chance to escape, so he had to be careful even as he wanted to hurry.
Finally the woman turned away to answer the phone behind her. Wasting no time, Daniel slipped out, hugging the wall, angling around to the side of the station. He darted up to the half wall surrounding the counter, crouching down as best he could, one arm wrapped around his aching ribs, and scurried past without her notice.
Sweating with the effort to move soundlessly, his body screaming with pain, he managed to slip out the entrance to the infirmary without notice, and straightened up just outside the door. He wiped the perspiration from his face with his palms and struggled to catch his breath in quick, shallow gulps. The medication made him light-headed, but it helped with the pain, easing slightly now that he was no longer bent over.
Minutes later he staggered into the elevator and made his way to SG-1’s locker room. He pulled on jeans and a sweater, struggling to get his shoes on his feet, whimpering with the pain but not giving in to it.
Back in the elevator again, he rode it up to the 11th floor, where he signed out, taking no notice of the guard’s concerned look, and headed for the topside gate.
As he walked, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket to call for a taxi. He arrived at the guard’s hut at the base’s entry gate, giving the guards a smile and nod as he always did. They let him out and turned back to their duties while he waited for the cab to arrive. He was sweating and trembling but single-minded and focused on what he had to do. His earlier promise to Jack was not forgotten, but put aside in favor of more important things.
During the taxi ride, his mind zoned in and out, sometimes sharp and clear as the visions pushed at him, and sometimes he nodded off from the medication.
He had the taxi drop him right at the gate of the storage facility, no longer caring if anyone saw him go inside, lacking the energy to take his usual precautions. He just wanted to get the job done now, work through the night until dawn, when the urgency would fade, and he would be able to rest.
He paid the cab and wearily punched in the code for the security gate. Stumbling through the cool darkness, he made his way to his rented unit, pausing at the smaller walk-in door to try to undo the combination lock.
He stared dumbly at the door handle, trying to remember if he or Jack had put the lock back on or not earlier, because it was now gone. Daniel wobbled, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He lifted one hand to wipe his face, barely remembering that he had neither glasses nor contacts to help him see. He had left those on the bedside table in the infirmary.
"Doesn't matter," he mumbled to the night. Daniel punched in his code for the walk-in door and stepped inside the unit. He groaned as he reached for the light switch, now trying to think how he was going to get the garage door up. He flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the inside of the unit with a wan glow.
Another light glowing brightly inside the room brought his head up instinctively, and he stood staring at the human-shaped beacon reclining in his bedroll, now propped up on one elbow and glaring at him. Daniel didn’t have to see the features on the face to recognize that radiant personality.
"Jack? What are you doing here?" Daniel muttered, stumbling inside the room. "You should be home in bed."
"So should you," Jack reminded him, throwing the sleeping bag open. He climbed out and got to his feet as Daniel wandered over and leaned his butt against the motorcycle seat. "What the hell are you doing here? You're not thinking of going out again tonight, are you?"
"Have to go," Daniel mumbled, rubbing his face with both hands, ignoring the pain in his chest that accompanied that small movement. "Don't have a choice."
Jack stood there in sweats and a T-shirt, hands on hips, just looking at him, worry radiating off him in waves. "You promised me you wouldn’t do this, God damn it. What's going on, Daniel?"
"Dunno. Just gotta go. You wanna get outta my way?" He still had to change clothes but resting against the Ducati’s seat felt good because he wasn’t moving.
The urgency increased. The vision became clearer. He had to go. He made a feeble, half-hearted attempt to push Jack out of the way.
"You're asleep on your feet," Jack reminded him, catching him by the shoulders. "You're under the influence of some pretty powerful drugs. If you get on that motorcycle, you'll kill yourself. I can't let you leave on that thing. You don’t even have your glasses, for cryin’ out loud. You can’t even see to drive it. Besides, I snagged the keys to this place and the Ducati from your stuff in the infirmary." He paused, arms crossing over his chest. “Now I want the spares.”
“Find ‘em yourself,” Daniel snapped. God, he was so out of it, he hadn’t even realized he didn’t have any keys anymore.
He saw Jack’s hands settle on his hips in that do-what-I-told-you stance and capitulated, unable to summon enough strength to continue arguing. He sagged back against the motorcycle’s seat.
“Okay, okay. You win,” he said in a resigned voice. He pointed with his chin to a metal shelf unit built into the back wall. “They’re taped to the back of a metal strip fixed to the underside of the shelf above the bottom. Feel for the edge of the metal. It’s hard to see where I joined the extra plate on it.”
Jack obeyed, carefully feeling around for the false bottom, pulled it loose and stuffed the extra set of keys into his pants pocket. “These the only spares?” he asked, stuffing the keys into his pocket as he straightened up.
“Yeah.”
Jack returned to stand beside his teammate and patted him on the shoulder, pushing a little to get Daniel going. “Come on. Move your sorry ass. We’re going back to the base.”
Daniel stretched slowly, trying to shrug Jack's hand off him without actually getting off the seat. "I'm fiiiiine," he argued, his words affected by the medication, head lolling listlessly, eyes drifting closed for a little too long.
"Yeah, sure you are. But I'm taking you back," Jack repeated tensely. “No arguments.” He was gathering up his wallet and keys, putting on his shoes so he could leave with Daniel.
The sudden memory of a locked room with a guard posted outside filled Daniel's mind. His head snapped up, eyes widening with alarm as he realized what might await him back on the base. "No, Jack, please! I’m begging you!” Fear jolted through his system, and he pushed at Jack’s chest as he spoke. “What if they lock me up? It’ll kill me, I know it will, I swear, Jack, please, don’t do that to me! Not again. I’m not crazy. I’m not!”
"It won't kill you," Jack returned calmly. He reached down into his trouser pocket with his right hand, placing his left on Daniel's shoulder. "We'll take care of you, Daniel. You know that. We don't wanna hurt you." He gripped harder, thumb and fingers wrapping around Daniel's upper arm. "And we don't want you to hurt yourself. Now, we can do this easy, or we can do it hard. Your choice."
"Jack, they’ll lock me up," Daniel begged, growing more alarmed by the moment. He twisted, trying to get out of Jack's iron grip but his injury, his weakness and Jack's preparedness for any move, kept him in the man's grasp. "Please, I have to--"
"No, you don't have to, dammit," Jack snapped angrily. "You can't. I won't let you kill yourself, and if you go out again tonight that's exactly what you'll be doing. My truck’s parked at that motel down the street, so decide how you want it. Are you walking, or am I carrying you?"
Daniel felt himself crumbling inside. He knew what they might do to him, but he had no choice. He was hurt, and Jack was still a far better fighter than he was. He wished he could see the other man’s face rather than the brightly burning silhouette with the vague lines where eyes, nose and mouth should be. He needed to see Jack’s expression, his eyes, needed to know there was more than anger and disappointment there.
Daniel stopped resisting, actually relieved that someone was there to take care of him, and he wouldn't have to feel so desperately alone and frightened anymore. He didn't know what the hell was happening, hadn't for some time, and maybe Jack could make things right somehow. The responsibility for the decisions had been thankfully removed from him for the moment. He didn’t have a choice, and right then that felt like a pretty good thing.
“I’m walking.” He let Jack lead him, one strong hand wrapped firmly around his upper arm. They exited the storage unit, and Jack replaced the lock. They walked back to the main gate and down the street to the nearby motel, Jack’s hand on his arm to keep him upright and steady. And also quite possibly to keep him from getting away.
"I'm not crazy, Jack," he whispered brokenly, trying to convince himself of that as well as his friend. "I tried to stop. I tried to stay in bed, but I couldn't. I had to go out. I couldn't stop myself."
He leaned against the truck as Jack unlocked the door in silence. "You promised me no more ninja runs," Jack growled as he pulled the door open, anger and hurt thickening his voice. “I’m scared shitless, Daniel. This is way more serious than I thought when I first saw you on that Ducati. As if that wasn’t scary enough, realizing you were the Springs ninja, for cryin’ out loud.” He caught Daniel up under the arms, helping lift him onto the running board of the big truck and then up into the passenger seat. “I cannot believe you are out here again,” he growled.
"I wanted to keep my promise. I tried, Jack. I tried." He took a deep breath and put his head down, whimpering, miserable, desperate, sick at heart. "Help me. Please help me."
"I will. Don’t worry." Jack's voice was soft and shaky. He patted Daniel on the arm in a comforting gesture.
He locked and closed the door, hurrying around to the driver's side. He got in and started the truck, driving them back toward the base.
A relieved rush of breath left Daniel. He slumped against the seat, his head leaning against the cool glass of the passenger window, eyes closed. "Jack... I’m so scared. Something’s really wrong with me. In ways you can’t begin to imagine."
In the cool darkness of the cab, Jack reached out and patted him on the shoulder, his voice full of sympathy and shared pain. "I know. We'll find out what it is, and we'll help you, Daniel. Just hang on. Doc Fraiser’s probably ready to hang you out to dry by now. I’m assuming you didn’t sign yourself out?"
Daniel nodded. "No. I sneaked out of the infirmary. God, Jack, I feel like I'm coming apart inside."
Jack's hand was warm and comforting, rubbing a small circle there on his shoulder. "We'll help you," he promised.
Jack parked the truck and walked him back into the base, calmly informing the SF at the security desk on 11 not to allow Daniel to leave the mountain until Jack or General Hammond rescinded the restriction. He didn’t offer any embarrassing explanations, just made sure Daniel couldn’t leave without permission.
Daniel signed in, barely able to see the book in the light wash from the people around him. Jack escorted his teammate back to the infirmary, and Janet walked them personally to one of the isolation rooms, mouth pressed into a firm, disapproving line. She held back on the lecture. Daniel wasn’t in any shape to tolerate a browbeating. That must have been obvious, judging from the sympathy in her eyes.
“Do you think you can sleep now?” Jack asked him quietly.
Daniel lay staring up at the ceiling. “No. All I see is...” He shuddered and closed his eyes but the images only became more violent, more vivid. “It’s awful, what people are doing to each other out there. Maybe if I went off-world, to someplace where there aren’t any other people, just us...”
Jack and Janet exchanged a look. “I can’t let you do that, Daniel,” Janet reminded him, “and I’m going to have to post security at the door to make sure you don’t walk out of here again.” She patted his arm and went out to check his chart.
Daniel couldn’t think clearly. He was drowning in those images, and in self-defense he began to talk about them, to describe to the best of his ability what he saw and heard and felt in those terrifying visions. He talked until his voice began to falter, and Jack got him a drink of water.
He found it odd that Jack didn’t interrupt or ask questions, just let him talk while Janet went in and out, taking her blood samples, listening to his heart and giving orders to the nurses on duty in the back of the big, spacious room. He ignored the medical staff’s poking and prodding, focusing his attention on what was going on inside him and the man sitting on the stool beside his bed, riveted to his every word.
Daniel knew Jack had probably seen much worse in his lifetime as a soldier, so he was the perfect person with whom to share this confidence. Daniel couldn’t stop, describing in detail the crimes being committed, where they were happening, who suffered and died, and who was doing those heinous things. He wanted to be out there, stopping those crimes before they happened but he was only one man. He couldn’t save them all and, in the shape he was in at that moment, he couldn’t help anyone without getting himself killed.
In time, the visions faded and his mind quieted. Daniel knew that dawn must be breaking outside. He eyed his friend and finally could see the sympathy and anguish in Jack’s eyes, in that welcome view of his friend’s normal, solid face without the light show. Daniel didn’t want to see those emotions now, didn’t want to see anything.
A glance at Jack’s watch confirmed that dawn had come to the world on the surface Finally it was time for Daniel to rest.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, relieved that the torment had stopped for the space of another day, and instantly Daniel fell asleep, his faithful friend nearby to watch over him until he awakened.
Later, Jack stood by while he watched Daniel slip into the MRI tube. This was the last test of the day, and Doctor Fraiser’s shift was about to end. Test after test had been run, with Daniel sleeping heavily through most of them, and most of the results would be coming in shortly.
All day Jack had been in Daniel’s shadow, never leaving him alone for long, always checking to see if any room in which he had to separate himself from his ‘prisoner’ had more than one exit. Daniel hadn’t tried to escape, however, and often fell asleep during examinations.
Fraiser had ordered up every test in the book, not certain what she was seeking. This was an unusual case, and she had no real direction to seek answers to the hallucinations, the migraines or elevated heart rate. Jack had tried to question her about her theories concerning Daniel’s condition, but she had always refused to speculate and firmly told him he’d have to wait.
Checking his watch, Jack did the countdown to sunset. He called Teal’c and Carter to meet him outside the MRI room.
“What word on DanielJackson?” the Jaffa asked as he glided to a stop beside his commander, concern evident in his usually unreadable expression.
“Nothing yet.” Jack glanced at his watch again. In half an hour it would be sundown. “He’s been sleeping most of the day, which is good. He needed that.”
“That’s good, I guess,” Carter added. “Any idea when we might know something?”
The technician finished his test and ran the carriage on which Daniel lay out of the tube. Jack could see Daniel through the video camera in the MRI room and sensed instantly that something had changed in his younger friend.
Daniel’s eyes were wide open. When he got up off the carriage, his eyes gleamed intensely, mouth set in a grim line. He stood straighter, shoulders back, chin dipped low like a bull ready to charge. The door to the MRI room opened and he rushed out, right into Jack’s path.
Turning to the technician, Daniel asked brusquely, “Are you done with me?”
“Yes, sir, Doctor Jackson. You can go back to the infirmary now to wait for Doctor Fraiser. We’ll have the test results sent up as soon as they’re done.”
Jack caught Daniel by the elbow and steered him toward the door.
Daniel shook his hand off. “I can get there by myself, Jack. You don’t have to nursemaid me.”
“I think I do,” Jack returned, tension already starting to mount inside him. He could feel the waves of intensity starting to radiate off the other man.
Teal’c cocked his head. “Is something upsetting you, DanielJackson?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped, glaring at his friends. “Will everybody please just stop asking me that?” He stomped down the corridor, frowning at everyone he passed, his three teammates in tow.
They came to a Y-corridor and suddenly Daniel bolted in the wrong direction.
Jack was after him instantly, with Teal’c hot on his heels. Daniel was a powerful runner, but he had more muscle to move than Jack’s leaner build. The older man caught up to him, grasping him by the back of his scrub shirt. He pushed Daniel up against the nearest wall, trying to pin him with his body. Daniel grunted with pain, but pivoted at the last second, bounced against the wall on his shoulder and came back at Jack with a punch to the abdomen.
That knocked the wind out of him for a moment, and Daniel was able to free himself from Jack’s grip on his clothes. He took one step away, heading back the way they had come, and ran smack into Teal’c’s broad chest. The Jaffa flattened him against the wall, crushing Daniel there with his big, powerful body.
Daniel howled in agony, frozen in place, unable to move.
Jack caught Daniel’s wrist, bent it back and pushed against Daniel’s elbow, locking his arm. He nodded to Teal’c, who did the same with Daniel’s other wrist, then stepped away. “Keep his arms locked, T. We’ll take him back to the isolation room. Carter, you call Fraiser.”
She was already jogging down the corridor to the nearest phone.
“You knew he would attempt to escape,” Teal’c surmised.
“Let’s say I had a good hunch,” Jack admitted. “Whatever the hell this thing is, it starts every day at dusk.”
Daniel could hardly breathe, grunting with every exhalation, slightly bent over as he stumbled along between them. They walked Daniel to Isolation Room 4 and, when the door closed behind them, Jack let Daniel loose.
“I have to go, Jack,” Daniel insisted in a low voice, folding his arms across his damaged chest. “I have to be out there.” He waved aimlessly and wandered away, pacing the floor near the door, hugging himself.
“Back off, Daniel