Seeds of Faith by devra

Daniel shot up in bed, panting heavily, his sense of loss slicing through whatever drugs Janet had pumped into his system. In the darkness of the bedroom he blindly reached for the phone, knocking it off the cradle and onto the nightstand with a loud clatter. He grabbed it and hugged it to his chest, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs in anticipation of what he had to do.

The numbers on the keypad glowed fluorescent green in the gloom but without his glasses, Daniel had to hold the cordless phone almost to his nose to see the sequence he needed.

Like the 'gate address to Abydos, this number was forever burned into his subconscious, but it was the drugs clouding his memory that forced Daniel to hesitantly push the numbers, repeating each one out loud.

Daniel had his whole speech worked out. Words, comfort, it was all there, jumbled, but he could pull on his inner strength to get through this.

"Hello."

Daniel could feel his resolve shatter just by hearing the familiar voice.
"Rose?" He tightened his grip on the phone, holding it with two hands, pressing it painfully against his ear, bringing Rose closer to him.

"Daniel?"

Daniel nodded, forgetting that Rose was unable to see him.

"Daniel, honey, are you okay?"

Daniel pretended not to hear the note of worry in Rose's voice, the rise in pitch as she asked about him. He needed her strength; he needed one of them to be capable of holding on, because right now he could feel himself slipping. "No," he whispered, choking on that one word.

"Where are you?"

"Home. Jack's home." Daniel pulled the blanket up and swiped at the hot tears rolling down his face.

"Mhuirnin, you need to tell me what's wrong. I can't help you unless—"

"Jack's gone," Daniel blurted out. There was a horrific noise in the room reminding Daniel of a wounded animal and he cupped a shaking hand over his free ear to block out the hateful sound.

"Gone? How?"

Daniel tried to conjure up the incident, but all he could recall was a hollow emptiness.

"You can't tell me, can you?"

"I promised I'd call you." Daniel hoped that Rose would accept that.

"Yes, you did. Thank you," was Rose's inane response.

"Please don't cry, Rose," Daniel begged as her soft sobs traveled the phone line.

"You—are you alright?"

Daniel took a moment to assess. "I don't think so," he answered. Whatever concoction of pills Janet had given him dulled the pain but there, along his back, were pinpricks of awaking discomfort.

"Let me talk to someone, Daniel," Rose demanded, her voice heavy with tears.

"No one's left but me. No Sam, Teal'c… no Jack. All gone," he sobbed. "I'm all alone."

"No, you're not… I'll be there as soon as I can." Rose's shuddering breath cut through Daniel like a knife. "Janet, where's Janet?"

Daniel closed his eyes, trying to concentrate, to remember, but all he could recall was the sympathy in Janet's brown eyes and the pills she made sure he took. "I don't think she's here."

"I need to talk to someone, Daniel. I don't think you should be by yourself."

"I'm alone." Daniel dropped the phone and drew his legs up to his chest. Bereft, he buried his head in his knees, allowing his sobs to be swallowed up. He could hear Rose calling his name from the phone on the bed, but he was so caught up in his own grief, he was unable to answer her.

* * *

"Jesus, Daniel, what the hell is going on here?" Jack dropped the bottle of water and handful of pills on the dresser and hurried over to the bed. He sat at the edge of the mattress, running gentle fingers over Daniel's shoulders, shaking his head at the feel of fever and congestion under his ministrations.

"No!" Daniel shouted, pushing away from Jack and catching him by surprise, almost upending Jack from his perch on the bed. Daniel's hand scrambled on the bed, attempting to locate the phone.

"Oh, no you don't," Jack said, lifting the phone from Daniel's grasp. Then, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Jack pulled Daniel towards his chest, kissing the head that fell heavily against him. "This can't be comfortable, Daniel, just let me hang up the phone and I'll get us settled… what's this? Hello?" Confused, Jack spoke into the phone. "Is someone there? Hello?"

"Jonathan?" Rose sniffed.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Jack asked.

"Am I okay? Me? Are *you* okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Daniel said… he said you died. You, and Sam and Teal'c."

"Awww… damn it." Jack laid a cheek amongst the sweaty strands of Daniel's bent head. "Daniel's had a rough time of it…"

"And where the hell were you?" Rose demanded. "Allowing him to get on the phone? Where are you now?"

"I'm here with him—in the house."

"You left him alone," Rose accused haughtily.

"Okay, I did. I'm sorry. Fifteen minutes… I went to pee and…" Daniel began to squirm and cough in Jack's arms, fighting him, shoulders heaving, and Jack realized if he didn't end the conversation, he was going to end up with a lap full of retching archaeologist. "Look, Mom, I gotta go. I promise I'll call you back and explain everything." Guiltily, he disconnected the phone, cutting her off mid sentence.

He slid out from under Daniel and guided his upper torso over the bed, sticking the garbage pail under Daniel just in time, supporting him so he didn't land face first in the pail.

"Better?" Jack asked, petting Daniel's head.

"No," Daniel answered, jerking away from Jack's helping hands, flopping back onto the mattress. Daniel muttered a low "ow" before turning from his back to his side, curling in a fetal ball. He dragged one of Jack's pillows to his stomach, settling into this position with more of a whimper than a sigh. Jack stood and arranged the blanket around Daniel's shivering body.

"You called my mom."

The blanket rose with the rise and dip of Daniel's shoulders as he shrugged under the covers. "Weird dreams. Thought you were dead. Thought everyone was dead."

"I'm not," Jack said softly.

"I know," Daniel sighed. "Tell her I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare her."

"I'll call her right after I speak to our lovely CMO."

"Hammond… call him too, 'kay?"

Softly, Jack stroked Daniel's head. "Why am I calling the General, buddy?"

"I'm going to be late for the briefing, you know how he hates tardiness," Daniel whined, then pulled the pillow tighter to his stomach, whimpering when a cough racked his body.

"I'm sure he'll understand," Jack answered, feeling a knot in the pit of his stomach over the imaginary briefing Daniel was referring to.

* * *

Jack nervously fiddled with the numerous pill bottles on the kitchen counter while he waited for Fraiser to answer the infirmary's phone.

"Infirmary, Dr. Fraiser," she barked.

"Doc?"

"Colonel." In his mind's eye Jack could picture the petite doctor leaning against the cinderblock wall next to the phone. A chart stuck under one arm, the phone balanced between her shoulder and chin while she tried to tuck errant strands of hair behind her ear with her other hand. "How's Daniel?"

Jack began to line the pill bottles up in size order. "Not good."

"Fever?"

"Up and down… no rhyme or reason. And before you ask, yes for the Motrin and Tylenol. There are the nightmares…"

"Sir, after what Daniel went through, I would be concerned if he *didn't* have nightmares."

"Hallucinations." The bottles were now being maneuvered into the shape of a pyramid.

"Those are from the steroids for the lung infection and a side effect of being in the sarc…" Jack heard the doc's frustrated sigh and he answered with one of his own. Fraiser cleared her throat before continuing "Have you been cutting the steroid dosage like I explained?"

"Yes," Jack replied, banging the counter with his fist when the pyramid of pill bottles fell over, rolling in all directions.

"Do you have a specific question, Colonel, or did you just need to rehash everything we discussed yesterday?"

"Are you sure Daniel is okay at home? He just seems…" Jack fumbled for a word. "Off, Daniel's off."

"We talked about this, Colonel, even before we knew SGs-8 and 10 were coming in hot. Home or the Academy Hospital. You balked at sending him anywhere but home. I listened to your song and dance and in the end agreed that maybe Daniel's mental health *could* benefit in familiar surroundings. The teams' arrival just rushed the decision up a day or two. But believe me, sir, if I didn't think Daniel should be sent home, you would have known it. The fever's low grade enough to be controlled with antibiotics and Tylenol," she explained, her exhaustion apparent even without Jack being able to see her.

"It's not too late to change your mind, Colonel, while the mountain is on lockdown, Daniel can *still* be transferred to the Academy Hospital."

"No. It's okay. I'm okay… I think Daniel's gonna do okay, it's just that—it's hard, seeing him—again…"

"I understand, sir, but please remember I'm just a phone call away." She exhaled wearily. "Look, if you want to call me, bug me, it's okay, by all means do just that. But if his fever goes over 103 or the wounds on his back look infected, don't call, get his ass over to the Academy Hospital ASAP and then call, okay?"

"He vomited today," Jack said, feeling stupid the minute the words were out of his mouth, complaining about a little upchuck in the wastebasket when the SGC was on lockdown and Fraiser and her teams were working their butts off.

"Excessively?" Jack waited while Fraiser gave an order to one of her nurses. "Sorry, Colonel."

"No, just once."

"Keep plying him with fluids, watch also for dehydration, you know the symptoms that would warrant a trip to the Hospital. Colonel, believe me, I trust your judgment. How about I call later to check in?"

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

* * *

The phone rang as Jack was gathering up the pills he'd dumped earlier on the dresser in the bedroom. "Damn!" He slammed the pills back down, then grabbed the phone, cupping his hand around the mouthpiece to contain his whispered greeting.

"When the hell were you going to call me back?"

Jack exhaled noisily and dropped down on the bed with a huff. Daniel didn't move; neither the ringing phone nor Jack's company stirred him from sleep.
"Mom?"

"Mom? Mom? I'm sorry if I've called you at an inopportune time, *Jonathan*," Rose spit out sarcastically, "but about an hour ago I get a call from Daniel who informed me you, Sam and Teal'c have all died, and then he enlightens me that he's not doing well *just* before he breaks down."

Jack leaned back against the headboard. "Mom, please…" Jack scrubbed his hand roughly across his face.

"Don't you please me, Jonathan Patrick O'Neill."

"There isn't much I can tell you."

"I'm thinking if I hadn't been privy to Daniel's call, I wouldn't have been told a thing."

"What do you want me say, Mom? That's you're right? Okay, you are."

"I thought you'd died, Jack," Rose whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Geez, Mom." Exasperated, Jack flung his head back, banging it on the headboard. Silently cursing, he brought his hand up to rub the affected area. "I'm sorry. Daniel wanted me to tell you he's sorry. I'm sorry, he's sorry."

"Jack?" Daniel moved his legs restlessly under the blanket.

"Let me call you back…"

"Not a chance in hell… I'll hold on."

"If that's what you want." Jack flung the phone to the end of the bed and dropped a tentative touch to Daniel's shoulder. The past two days' worth of combative nightmares prompted cautiousness in his approach to Daniel, for both their safety. "Daniel?"

Jack felt the shoulder under his hand stiffen when he asked if Daniel wanted to sit up. "Fine like this," he stated hoarsely. "Don't wanna move, comfy."

"Okay," Jack answered, grimacing as Daniel's fever warmed his lips when he kissed the back of his neck.

"I could have told you I had a fever, you didn't have to check," Daniel said as he slowly pressed the heel of his right hand into his temple. "Not that I mind the kiss… I don't," Daniel whispered.

Jack leaned and planted another kiss on the base of Daniel's hairline. "Headache?"

"Too-many-drugs headache. Were you talking to Rose?"

"What? Oh shit…" Jack hastily retrieved the phone. "Mom?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

"Let me talk to her, Jack." Daniel waved a hand behind his back, accidentally smacking Jack in the arm. "I want to tell her I'm sorry."

"Hold on a minute, Mom, Daniel wants to speak to you." Jack captured Daniel's floundering hand and slapped the phone into his palm, closing the fingers around the phone. "She's all yours."

Daniel coughed and cleared his throat before greeting Rose. "Hi… Rose. I know. Me, too." Jack got off the bed and walked around to the opposite side, leaning against the wall, watching Daniel on the phone. He winked at Daniel and was rewarded with a true smile as he made a futile attempt to wave him away. "Jack? Jack's right here annoying me." Daniel nodded and then gave a slight chuckle. "No, he's behaving."

Daniel moved on the bed and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Jack watched him breathe through the pain, never losing his concentration, keeping his voice on an even keel while talking.

"Daniel," Jack whispered twice before gaining his attention. "Pill?" he mouthed, "for the pain?"

Daniel coughed and shook his head, "Sorry, Rose… Jack was asking me something." Daniel laughed. "Jack, your mom says go away." "Water," he mouthed silently, "cold water."

Jack pushed off the wall and walked to the dresser. He counted and picked up the scattered pills, shoving them into his pocket before he went to the kitchen to exchange the bottle of now warm water for a cold one from the fridge.

Daniel was occupied, in a manner of speaking, his mom was keeping him company long distance, so Jack used this borrowed time and took out the garbage and got the mail. Flicking through the mail, he sorted it into two piles, bills and junk, depositing the junk paperwork into the recycling bin in the garage. He grabbed a brown envelope addressed to Daniel and the fresh bottle of water, then returned to the bedroom.

* * *

Jack swung the bottle of water in Daniel's line of vision, dropping the envelope on the end of the bed.

"The roses we planted are in bloom," Daniel whispered into the phone, acknowledging Jack's presence with a smile. "After I get home from work, I'm going back to the garden center to talk to the owner before I prune them… I'm not too sure how… Oh, yeah…" a look of hurt and confusion flashed over his features. "Yes, Jack's right here, do you want to talk to him?"

Jack took the phone from Daniel and gave him the water bottle in exchange. "Mom, hold on a minute, 'kay?" Gently, Jack assisted Daniel in levering his body to a sitting position. "Take these," he ordered, turning Daniel's left hand over and depositing the slew of pills into the upraised palm. Satisfied Daniel had taken what Fraiser had prescribed, and after scribbling down the time on the pad on the nightstand, Jack gave Daniel the envelope. "This came for you, knock yourself out while I say goodbye to Mom."

Still drinking, Daniel nodded, accepting his glasses before ripping open the envelope. Jack couldn't help but smile at the noises of appreciation Daniel made when the soft covered book slid from the envelope into his lap. Fumbling, he stuck the glasses on his face, patiently allowing Jack to adjust them for him. Leaning over Daniel, Jack propped up the pillows on his side of the bed and plucked the bottle of water from Daniel's grip, patting it into place against the pillows. "Don't want it to drip on your new book."

Already lost in the pictures, Daniel just absent-mindedly nodded then stuck a hand under his glasses and rubbed his eyes and Jack could only hope there were tons of pictures in that book, because once those pills kicked in, Daniel's concentration was kaput.

"Mom," Jack said, scooping up the discarded envelope and dropped it into the bedroom trash.

"What the hell is going on there?" Rose demanded angrily. "It's winter in our section of the United States but Daniel is quite convinced the roses are in bloom."

"I heard that. I know," Jack admitted.

"Did you hear about how he needs to go to work in about an hour, because the General hates when he's late? Did you hear that? Or that he's annoyed Janet won't let him work at home? Or that he couldn't find his way home."

"No," Jack replied sadly, sitting in the chair tucked away in the corner of the bedroom, averting his eyes from Daniel who was intently studying the book.

"If you're still within earshot, get your ass away from him. When you're out of his range of hearing, *you*, Jonathan O'Neill, are going to tell me exactly what the hell is wrong with the boy starting from the top of his head, all the way down to his toes… am I making myself perfectly clear?" Rose threatened, bringing a reminiscent chill to Jack's soul as he recalled a tone of voice he hadn't heard since he'd been accused of smoking on school property by his High School Principal.

"Yes, Mom." He got up and kissed the top of Daniel's bowed head before leaving the bedroom. "I'm in the kitchen, okay?"

"You can still hear Daniel if he needs you?"

"Yes, I can."

"I'm waiting… go ahead."

Jack opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and flinging it over his shoulder into the sink.

"Are you done procrastinating, Jack?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

"Take a breath and just say it," she gently guided.

How did Jack tell her that saying it made it real? Speaking the words out loud would cement into place his guilt for not being there for Daniel, for allowing SG 1's archaeologist to travel offworld with another team. "There needs to be some ground rules, Mom. You can't ask any who, what, when, where or why questions. Can you do that? Because if you can't…"

"Just say it, honey," she reiterated.

"Daniel was missing for two weeks…" 'Please, Mom', Jack pleaded silently, 'don't make me explain why I didn't call you. Don't make me admit that I sat in the house at night staring at the phone wanting to call you for support, but afraid that I didn't have the guts to face both yours and my teammates' accusations'.

"You were scared."

"Fuckin' terrified," Jack admitted.

"Jonathan!" Rose admonished.

"Mom? I'm still terrified," Jack confessed, wetting his suddenly tight throat with a slug of beer. "Daniel was tortured, the other people he was with were killed…" Jack searched for a plausible lie, one that would explain the residual sarcophagus addiction that Daniel was slowly shedding. "They injected him with a medley of drugs… that's what's causing his confusion."

"Why isn't he under Janet's care? He sounds horrible."

"Residual bilateral pneumonia and he was in the infir… under Dr. Fraiser's care for over two weeks… being prodded and poked, and X-rayed. Daniel's had more respiratory treatments than you can shake a stick at. The doc figured it was time for him to be released, time for him to come home. Being under the microscope was just increasing Daniel's agitation." Jack hated how easily the lies had the ability to build one after the other, until the truth was hidden.

"So what's scaring you, my Johnny?"

Impatiently, Jack swiped at the tears from his mother's use of an old, but obviously not forgotten, childhood nickname. "Daniel doesn't remember any of what I just told you. I don't know what to do if he asks and I don't know what to do if he *never* asks."

"Ignorance is not bliss."

"No, it's not. It's not bliss, it's not right… and I believe it's slowly destroying him."

"There are experts for this, you know—"

"I know!" Jack shouted. "Sorry," he said, softening his voice. "The experts said to give him time." Jack didn't tell his mother that the experts haven't been awakened the past two nights by a Daniel who screamed himself hoarse, begging and pleading for mercy.

"I'm catching the next flight."

"No, no you're not, Mom. We're okay."

"Ha! I'm not that old nor am I that far away to know when you're lying."

Jack rotated his neck, feeling the bones crack. "I'll admit we're *not* okay, Daniel's not okay… but he's getting there. I've got a handle on this. I promise if things change…"

"Jack?"

Jack spun around, surprised to see Daniel standing in the entranceway of the kitchen, leaning heavily on the doorjamb, shivering, barefoot, and bathed in a sweat.

"I gotta go, Mom."

"Daniel?"

Jack walked over and gently cupped Daniel's sweaty cheek. "Yup, Daniel. I gotta go."

"Is everything…?"

"Think the fever's broken…" Jack replied, kissing the damp, but cooler forehead.

"Fever? He had a fever… never mind." Jack tolerated the motherly sigh with a smug smile. "Call me tomorrow," she ordered. "And Jack, just so you know, the conversation about my coming to visit the two of you isn't closed just yet."

"I love you."

"I know you do, and I know Daniel does. Now go and take care of our boy."

* * *

"I want a shower," Daniel complained as he warily eyed the warm basin of soapy water Jack had balanced on the bathroom vanity.

"No shower, no bath until Fraiser says so." Jack motioned for Daniel to unbutton the pajama top and remove the flannel bottoms. "Stop griping." He took the washcloth floating in the basin, then wrung out the excess moisture. "Should I be insulted? Have I lost my touch that you don't want me to sponge you down?"

As much as Daniel complained, he leaned into Jack's ministrations with appreciative groans. "Feels good," he murmured as the warm washcloth swiped over his bare chest and down his arms. As the soapy water made contact with Daniel's stomach, Jack laughed out loud at the grumbling he got in response.

"Hungry?" Jack asked hopefully.

Daniel looked down at his abdomen in betrayal. "Obviously."

Tossing the cloth into the washbasin, Jack grabbed one of the folded towels on the floor next to him, then began to hesitantly pat Daniel's torso dry, feeling the familiar flush of anger at the Goa'uld who had left such horrific calling cards. Daniel jerked as the towel strayed to his back, pulling his shoulders into a tight defensive mode.

"Not my back?"

"No, took care of that earlier." Jack swallowed the 'don't you remember'?

"Oh," Daniel replied, obviously confused.

"So you're hungry?"

Jack stood and flung the towel into the pile of dirty clothes and picked up a flannel pj top and helped Daniel into it, waiting patiently as Daniel slowly buttoned it up.

He dumped the water down the sink and refilled the basin, adding Benadine solution to the soap and warm water.

"Pancakes," Daniel said. "I could go for plain, ordinary pancakes."

"Pancakes?" Jack asked, painfully kneeling between Daniel's knees, peeling back the towel he had used to cover and protect Daniel's legs while he'd cleaned his upper body.

"Yup… covered in syrup, silver dollar pancakes, like the diner's."

Jack forced the bile back down as the mere thought of pancakes mixed with the scattered scab marks, stitches and bruises spotting the length of Daniel's long limbs, sickening him.

"Jack? It's okay. They look worse than they feel, honestly."

Jack didn't believe that lie for one God damn minute as he felt Daniel's reassuring soft touch on his bowed head.

"What, Daniel? Oh, sorry," he lied, "I was just wondering if I had all the ingredients for pancakes."

* * *

"Are you finished?" Jack asked, rising from the table and placing his hand on Daniel's empty plate."

"Wait!" Daniel chased a crumb with his fork and dragged the miniscule piece of food through the syrup. He licked the prongs of the fork. "Good… that was good."

"I'm glad, now drink your juice," Jack ordered as he carried the plates to the sink, smiling broadly once his back was turned. Daniel had eaten well, was finishing his second glass of juice, but the best was the chatter Daniel had maintained the whole time. Okay, the talking was interspersed with yawning and coughing, but Daniel had held his own.

"Leave the dishes," Daniel begged, standing and making a show of patting his full stomach. "I'm in the mood to watch a movie or something."

"Bed?"

"Couch."

"Ya got nice fresh sheets on the bed," Jack cajoled, dumping the dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and kicking the door shut with his foot.

"Thanks, Susie Homemaker, for the sheets and all," Daniel waved his hand to encompass the kitchen, "but I'd appreciate a change of scenery."

"Okay," Jack agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. "The couch it is."

* * *

'*This* is good', Jack thought hopefully as he absentmindedly combed his fingers through Daniel's hair. The two men had settled on the couch, Daniel sitting at the edge until Jack had sat down and then he'd grabbed a pillow, had plopped it into Jack's lap and slid down. Jack had waited, the TV remote paused and ready to peruse his 250 stations until Daniel got comfortable.

"Anything but sports," Daniel had groused when Jack's remote finger stopped at a hockey game.

"It's a repeat anyway. Ahhh, here we go…" Jack said, already beginning to laugh at the antics on the TV screen. "A Marx Brothers classic."

"A Day at the Races, love this," Daniel had uttered, burying a yawn in the pillow.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, Jack shoved a pillow into Daniel's arms to hold against his chest when the scenes on the screen brought on a coughing fit. Ten minutes later the coughing subsided into only an occasional residual throat clearing. Twenty minutes later, Jack covered Daniel with the afghan and fifteen minutes after that, Daniel was fast asleep.

Jack watched the remainder of the movie with a snoring Daniel for company and went back to the sports channel after its conclusion.

Jack held his breath as Daniel coughed, hugging the pillow wrapped in his arms tighter to his chest, and Jack waited until he was through before softly calling his name. Daniel just sighed, burrowing deeper into the pillow that was cushioning his head in Jack's lap, moving slightly. Jack tugged the slipping afghan up to Daniel's shoulder, angry that even in sleep, Daniel subconsciously made sure his back made no contact with the couch cushions.

* * *

Jack awoke with a start. He acclimated to his surroundings in seconds, an ingrained military habit. Reaching down towards Daniel, he cursed loudly when his hand made contact with only emptiness.

"Daniel?" he yelled, jumping up and moving to avoid the pillow that had fallen from his lap to the ground.

The house was freezing, the temperature dropping the closer Jack got to the kitchen.

"Damn." The glass doors leading into the backyard were open, the napkins that had been piled on the table scattered the length of the floor from the wind whipping through the room, and standing in front of the open door, shaking, pajamas flapping in the breeze, was Daniel.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jack asked, stepping inbetween the door and Daniel then slamming the door shut. "It's freezing out there… and you," Jack took Daniel's hands between his warm ones, making a futile attempt to rub the iciness from his fingers," you're freezing in here."

"What's wrong with me?" Daniel inquired plaintively. "I told Rose the garden was in bloom."

"Your sense of time is skewed, that's all. Being held prisoner can do that."

"Skewed? Skewed?" Daniel said bitterly, pulling his hands from Jack's grip. "Fucked up is more like it. That's snow on the ground, Jack. Snow! Don't touch me," Daniel demanded, then jerked his hands from Jack's grasp. "I never saw snow in my mind, and even now when I close my eyes, I'm positive the snow is wrong, an illusion... and what I'm seeing in here," Daniel prodded his temple with his finger, "is real. The trees and flowers in bloom…" Daniel took a breath to regain momentum, but the action backfired into a paroxysm of coughing that had him holding onto the counter for support.

Jack filled a plastic cup with water and cautiously walked it over to Daniel. Daniel turned his head away from Jack's approach. "Get… a… way," he hissed through his struggle to breathe.

Jack placed the water on the counter until the cup touched Daniel's hand and backed slowly away, reaching towards the medical paraphernalia by the sink. "You need the inhaler."

"No, you bastard!" Daniel screamed, scooping up the cup and flinging it at Jack. Daniel was shaking so badly that the cup whizzed past Jack and hit the fridge instead, bouncing harmlessly off the freezer door before dropping to the floor, splattering the water in all directions. "What I need is a sarcophagus!"

"Daniel." Jack forced his voice to remain void of emotion.

"Jack." Huffing, still fighting to draw a deep breath, Jack didn't miss the hand curling into a fist as it hung by Daniel's side or the beads of sweat popping out on Daniel's forehead.

Jack didn't surrender his gaze, but met Daniel's iced blue, angry eyes unwaveringly. Nervously, Daniel glanced at the door, the outside light illuminated the snow-covered backyard and the ice in his eyes melted into a puddle of confusion. "Oh God," he whimpered. "It's happening again."

"What?" Jack leaped forward to grab Daniel's trembling, swaying body before he took a header onto the floor. "*What's* happening? The sarc… it's okay, you fought it before."

Daniel's eyelids closed and for a frightening moment, Jack was positive Daniel had passed out until he shook the limp man and he moaned, never opening his eyes. "What's real?"

"This is," Jack answered, placing a soft kiss on the sweaty, warm cheek.

"And so are the blooms on the flowers, and the heat of the summer night that I'm positive is right outside that door. I'm afraid." Blue eyes opened and challenged Jack to dispute his confession.

"I know," he replied softly. "Me, too."

"I'm crazy."

"Confused," Jack said, "there's a difference."

"Doesn't feel like there is. Confused, crazy, nuts, schizoid, white padded room, needles, loss of control of the situation, of my life."

"Time, Daniel, give this time."

Fear replaced the confused expression on Daniel's face. "I can't. I'm afraid that time is running out."

* * *

"I need to go to the gardener tomorrow," Daniel mumbled sleepily as he settled in bed. Jack sat at the edge of the mattress and drew the blanket up to his shoulders. "The ground cover I ordered never came in."

"Let's worry about that tomorrow, alright?"

Daniel coughed, guiltily smothering it under the blanket.

"Want a drink?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Want me to stay?"

Again Daniel shook his head. "Okay. I'm okay. Just don't let me forget about the ground cover and… something to protect the bushes against the winter."

"Tomorrow, Daniel," Jack answered sadly. "Don't worry."

"Not worrying," Daniel sighed, closing his eyes. "But winter comes when you least expect it."

* * *

The phone rang as Jack was cleaning up the wet kitchen floor. He sprang to answer it before the jangling sound woke Daniel.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel."

Jack dropped into the chair, using the toe of his shoe to swipe the rag he had left on the floor back and forth. "How's things going, Doc?"

"Better, we actually isolated and contained the virus and by tomorrow morning the containment will be lifted."

"Good job."

"Thank you. Not that great, one loss…"

"I understand," Jack insisted. "Give yourself and your staff some credit."

"Thank you, sir."

Jack bent and picked up the rag. Tossing it into the sink, his mind wandered, missing the beginning of the new conversation Fraiser started. "Hmmm, sorry I didn't... what…?"

Jack heard the sigh of exasperation and could picture the heavenward roll of the doc's eyes. "How is Daniel, sir?"

"Fever's down."

"Good."

"He ate tonight, it was only pancakes though."

"It was *something*. Daniel ate something, that's the important thing."

"Okay, then you'll be thrilled to know that he drank two glasses of juice, took his meds and is all tucked in for the night, hopefully."

"But? I'm picking up a ton of unspoken words, sir."

"Mood swings, anger, confusion, choking cough, nightmares, agitation, Daniel admitted he wanted the sarcophagus… are those enough buts for you, doc?"

Jack didn't miss the soft 'damn' from Doctor Fraiser. "Sir, how about I stop by tomorrow, draw some blood to check his levels, do a look see, and basically assess Daniel? Maybe I was wrong, maybe the Academy Hospital should have been the next step for Daniel."

"No," Jack hastily added. "We made the right decision. But I would certainly appreciate you stopping by, Doc… Janet." Jack felt uncomfortable using the doctor's first name, but he could think of no other way for her to understand how thankful he was for the safety net his friend had thrown under him.

"You're welcome, sir."

* * *

Jack stood on the back deck, bundled up, oblivious to the biting cold, lost in thought. The garden was hidden by snow and the mask of darkness threw shadows over the whole backyard. He strained his eyes, glancing into the gloom, focusing on the direction of the garden, trying to imagine what Daniel was seeing.

He stepped backwards, dipping sideways through the opened French door, stuck his head into the kitchen and held his breath as he listened for Daniel, his ears humming with the house's silence.

With a heavy sigh Jack retreated back onto the deck, leaning against the wall closest to the open door, just in case Daniel called for him. He pulled his cell phone from the depths of his pocket, and in defeat, punched in the telephone number burned into his memory.

The hour was late, but Jack made no apology when his mother answered the phone.

"Hi Mom," Jack said, his words forming little clouds of condensation in the cold night air. He took a deep breath. Asking for help had never been easy for him. "Mom, I think…"

"It's okay, Johnny, I know. You don't have to even ask. I've already made the reservations and the plane arrives late tomorrow afternoon."

Jack mentally committed to memory the travel itinerary his mom rattled off. "Got it."

"Let me go finish packing, I'll take a taxi from the airport. You just take care of Daniel."

"Thanks, Mom," Jack whispered.

"I love you," she answered. "See you in a few hours."

"A few hours," he echoed, stunned at his mom's willingness to jump into this battle without any forethought. Sadly, he realized she had already broken the phone connection and didn't hear his 'I love you, too' before hanging up.

* * *

Daniel was annoyed at the persistent voice that insisted on calling his name. Futilely, he positioned a pillow over his head, trapping it with his arm, but still the voice penetrated his dream state, pleading with him. And this had been a productive, restful sleep and Daniel was reluctant to leave it behind.

He opened his eyes into the darkness provided by the pillow and felt the familiar aching, burning need in his belly accompanied by the bloom of a headache pressing against dry eyeballs. Sleep had been better, allowing him to hide in its depth and Daniel angrily tossed the pillow off his head, irked that he was now too uncomfortable to return to sleep.

"Daniel, please," Jack moaned, thrashing and pulling at the covers, tugging at them so they scraped along Daniel's injured back.

"Stop," Daniel begged, snaking out and capturing Jack's flailing hand. "Wake up."

"You can't have him!" Jack screamed, tugging his arm from Daniel's grasp and shoving him away.

Jack's surprise outburst hurt and it took Daniel a moment to gather his bearings and lever his body upright. "I'm here, Jack. Open your eyes," Daniel asked, keeping a safe distance.

"No time… no more time. Sorrysorrysorrysorry," Jack whispered, tears leaking out under closed lids.

Crablike, lowering himself on the bed, Daniel stretched his body next to Jack's, laying his head on his lover's heaving, sweaty chest, painfully draping his legs over Jack's restless ones. "I'm right here," Daniel crooned, covering his whimpers of pain with the need to comfort Jack. Daniel alternated between light taps and actual petting of Jack's face to awaken the sleeping man. He heaved a sigh of relief as the thrashing slowed and eventually stopped.

"Daniel?" The voice was groggy, still lost in dreams as Daniel sensed Jack trying to decide which reality was the correct one. "Daniel." No question this time and Daniel lift his head. In the dimness, Jack's sad smile with its flash of white teeth was a beacon to him and he again dropped his suddenly heavy head onto Jack's chest.

"Go back to sleep," Daniel said, melding into Jack.

Daniel smiled at the kiss Jack planted on his head, fighting back the urge to cough or even clear his throat. Jack's familiar fingers swept gently through Daniel's hair.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered. "Not enough time to use the sarc and you…"

"Not now," Daniel hissed as even the mere mention of the Goa'uld device reawakened the need and the headache. Suddenly Jack's body was no longer the comfortable pillow it had been seconds ago and Daniel moved back to his side of the bed.

"Daniel…"

"I was uncomfortable," Daniel lied easily, settling back onto his stomach, keeping his head averted from Jack, staring at the wall and seeing nothing but shadows in the darkness.

"You begged not to be put back in the sarcophagus… you pleaded with me."

"Since I remember none of this, I'm guessing a thank you is in order," Daniel answered, wincing at the sarcastic undertones he used.

Daniel hated the silence that followed and hated even more Jack's supportive hand that grew heavier as callused fingers massaged his tight neck muscles. Daniel closed his eyes with a sigh and permitted pleasant summer scenes to overlap and eventually overshadow the need still gnawing in his gut. Garden views drove away the headache which had been increasing exponentially with every breath he drew. As he slipped into sleep, Daniel allowed blossoming trees to protect him from hidden memories of an event he believed was so horrific it was slowly driving him insane.

* * *

Jack slipped out of the bed, turning to readjust the blanket over Daniel's form, cursing in exasperation as a light morning kiss signified the return of fever. 0-eight hundred hours, two hours past Daniel's time for medication and the slight twitch of Daniel's hand as it rested on the pillow confirmed the missed dosages.

Dragging his body into the kitchen, Jack dropped four slices of bread into the toaster and poured two glasses of orange juice. He gulped his juice while he set up the coffee maker.

"Hope you're making that extra strong," Daniel asked as he stiffly lowered his body onto a kitchen chair.

Jack flipped the on switch to the coffee maker, popped up the toast and handed Daniel his glass of juice. "Thought you were still sleeping," he stated, gauging Daniel's fever with a peck to the dry, warm forehead.

"Couldn't sleep," Daniel said, scratching first one bicep and then the other. "Feel like I could, can… jump out of my skin."

"It's the…"

"I know what it is, Jack. But knowing doesn't make it any easier." Daniel buried a cough into the crook of his arm. "Thought I would see if I could do some work… toast?" Daniel asked with a tilt of his head towards the toaster.

"Sorry," Jack apologized, getting the butter from the fridge and generously spreading it across two slices. "Cinnamon?" he asked, one hand on the cabinet door.

"Sure… is my laptop here?"

Jack poured Daniel a cup of coffee, ignoring the menacing glance when he cut the caffeine with milk, lots of milk. He placed both the coffee and the liberally buttered cinnamon toast on the table and turned to count out and calculate Daniel's morning meds.

Daniel took a bite of the toast while staring at the pile of pills Jack had spread out before him.

"Do you want a pain pill also?" Jack poured himself a mug of coffee and lightly buttered the last two pieces of toast, carried both to the table, then dropped into the chair opposite Daniel.

Daniel began to line the pills up in size order, eating and drinking as he measured and positioned them. He captured stray crumbs in the corner of his mouth with his tongue before he began to methodically take the pills in size order—smallest to largest. Jack waited before he finished the last pill. "You didn't answer me," he asked patiently, "would you like a pain pill?"

Daniel hesitated. "Are you reapplying a bandage to my back?"

"Later, after lunch."

"Okay," Daniel replied, finishing the last of the toast and licking his fingers. "Later… I'll take one before you…" Daniel's hand flip flopped in explanation.

"An hour before."

Daniel nodded, pushing away the plate, getting up to refill his coffee cup.

"Daniel," Jack warned.

"Half a cup," Daniel countered.

"Add milk," Jack ordered, ripping his toast in half.

"Forget it," Daniel opened the dishwasher and dropping the mug onto the top rack. "Where's my laptop?"

Jack didn't even jump, he just nonchalantly sipped his coffee when Daniel slammed the dishwasher door shut. "Den," he said, indicating the direction with a wave of his coffee cup.

* * *

An hour later, Jack found himself overtly watching Daniel from the hallway. The laptop was opened and situated on Daniel's lap, balanced precariously on legs that were stretched out on the coffee table. Daniel was leaning awkwardly forward, not allowing his back to make contact with the cushions and though his fingers were poised on the keys, his glance was focused on the windows overlooking the backyard.

For ten minutes Jack studied Daniel and the only movement he picked up on was the furrowing of his brow as he concentrated on the snowy landscape outside those windows.

* * *

Jack showered, checked on Daniel, called the general, and gratefully acknowledged both Carter's and Teal'c's return from the Alpha Site now that the lockdown order had been lifted.

"General, I'll be…"

"Colonel O'Neill... Jack." Jack could hear the squeak of Hammond's leather chair as his commanding officer made himself comfortable. "Taking care of Dr. Jackson *is* your priority at the moment."

"I understand, sir."

"I don't mean to sound heartless, Colonel, but Dr. Jackson is our only lead as to why he was the only survivor on PX2004."

"You don't believe that Daniel would talk to save his own skin. Do not tell me that is what you are insinuating." Jack was positive he was walking a thin line of insubordination with Hammond's silence.

"Honestly, Colonel O'Neill, I'm not the one harboring those thoughts."

"Oh, sorry, sir." Jack could feel anger surge through him against the powers that be who believed, even after all these years, that Daniel was the weakest link at the SGC. "You just felt I should be aware?"

"Yeahsureyabetcha," the General replied sadly. "Oh, and Jack, just take care of our boy, that's *my* only concern."

* * *

"Too late." Jack cursed his missed opportunity and shoved the pain pill into his pants' pocket and placed the glass of water next to the opened, still booted up laptop. Daniel was sleeping, hugging the edge of the couch, his head resting on one bolster, his feet tucked under the cushion.

'That's it', Jack conceded as he powered down the laptop. There was a bottle of Restoril sitting on the kitchen counter, sleeping pills that Daniel had talked his way out of taking so far. But at the moment, Jack was tired of Daniel's catnapping during the day and his propensity to roam the house during the night.

Jack noted when he studied Daniel, these little snatches of sleep he was stealing during the day were doing nothing to aid in his recovery. The dark smudges under his eyes were deepening daily and fine lines of age and stress hardened his face even in rest. Part of Jack wanted to wake Daniel, force him to swallow the pain pill so he could treat his back, but the chicken in him covered Daniel with the light shawl from the loveseat and allowed him to sleep undisturbed.

* * *

Jack was bringing out the garbage when the taxi pulled up and parked in front of the house. He opened the back door for his mother, offering her a hand to assist her out and help her over the mounds of snow. Jack paid the driver and took the single suitcase from the trunk. He gave her his elbow as they traversed the sidewalk. "Traveling light?" Jack inquired, swinging the suitcase.

Rose patted the large duffel bag hanging in the crook of her arm. "You have a washer and a dryer. And there's stuff in here also," she replied indignantly.

Jack let her walk through the door first and then followed, closing the door against the frigid air.

"Brrr… a little colder than last time," Rose complained, stamping the excess snow off her boots.

"Give me your coat, Mom, I'll…"

"Let me look at you…" Jack stood at parade rest, allowing her to examine him from head to toe. "You're tired," Rose said as she unbuttoned her coat and handed it to her son. "Daniel? Where's Daniel?" Her head searched up and down the hallway before leaning against the wall for leverage to remove her boots.

Jack took Rose's coat and pointed to the mat by the door for her to place her boots. "He's sleeping. Want to freshen up?"

"Nope, I want to see Daniel."

"Mom…"

"Don't worry, I won't wake him, I promise. Where is he, bedroom?"

Jack flung Rose's coat over the divider, ignoring Rose's look of consternation. "Den… he's sleeping in the den."

* * *

Jack moved the laptop and Rose sat at the edge of the coffee table. She looked over her shoulder and flashed an infinitesimal smile at Jack, then turned her attention back to Daniel.

Rose battled Jack's glare with one of her own, and laid the back of her hand against Daniel's cheek. "He's got a fever."

"I know, comes and goes, Doc Fraiser is treating it with antibiotics."

Rose shook her head and sighed. "He can't be comfortable like this, the poor boy is gonna fall off the couch."

"If Daniel's comfortable enough to sleep, leave him."

"Hey, honey," Rose whispered, brushing a strand of hair off Daniel's face. "Oh… he's got…" Rose swiped her finger along her own hairline in horror.

"Stitches, Mom, he had stitches. Yes, I know."

Daniel's eyelids fluttered a few times and Rose found herself holding her breath until he was able to hold them halfway open. "Rose?"

"Yes, mhuirnin, I'm here," Rose whispered, leaning closer to grab the flailing hand that was searching for her.

"I didn't think you'd come," Daniel sighed, his eyes closing. "Didn't think anyone listened to me."

* * *

Jack ignored the redness in his mother's eyes when she sat down at the kitchen table.

"Coffee? Tea?" he asked.

"Coffee would be fine, thank you."

Jack made a sandwich for each of them, finishing that task about the time the coffee maker had produced a fresh pot. Two mugs of coffee with a shot of whiskey in both joined the two dishes on the table.

"Jack?"

"Did ya think I was lying?" Jack took a gulp of the hot coffee, relishing the punishing, burning trail it left in its wake.

"No, yes… honestly, I don't know."

Jack began to pick the errant pieces of cheese protruding from his sandwich, dropping them onto his plate.

"Stop playing with your food."

"Fine," Jack said, pushing the dish away.

"So we're going to be at each other's throats while I'm here?" Rose countered, shoving her dish towards Jack's. "You feel too guilty to yell at Daniel so you're gonna yell at your poor mother?"

Jack snorted, "If I ever had to think of a way to describe you, 'poor mother' wouldn't be my words of choice."

Rose responded to Jack's snort with a chuckle of her own, using her plate to maneuver Jack's plate back in front of him. "I don't think I even want to know what your choice words would be, Jonathan."

He made no comment when his mother made the feeble excuse to use the bathroom, knowing that she really was going to check on Daniel again.

"How's he doing?" Jack asked after she sat back down.

"Stirring, coughing… how did you know I was going to check on him?"

"Because the apple is still hanging on the tree, Mom."

Jack's glance kept flying over to check the microwave's clock as he and his mother finished up lunch.

"Do you have a hot date I don't know about?" Rose questioned as she picked up their empty plates and brought them to the sink.

"No, Daniel really needs to get up."

"He will, give him time…"

A knock on the front door followed by a familiar voice shouting, "Hello, anyone home?"

"In here," Jack replied, getting off the chair to prepare another cup of coffee. "Doc," he said, placing the mug in front of an empty chair.

"Colonel… Mrs. O'Neill." The doctor smiled at the Colonel and bent to hug his mother, dropping her medical bag by the doorway.

"Rose, please call me Rose, Doctor Fraiser."

"I'll only call you Rose if you remember to call me Janet."

"It's a deal, Janet," Rose said, indicating the cupful of steaming coffee on the table. "Have a seat, stay."

"I came to check on Daniel. Colonel?"

"He's sleeping," Jack said, pouring another cup of coffee and replacing the pot on the burner when his mother waved away his offer of topping off her mug.

"How long has he been sleeping?" Janet removed her coat and folded it over the back of the chair.

Jack checked the microwave one more time, sighing. "Four hours, that's longer than he sleeps at night," Jack replied ruefully. "He's slightly overdue for another regimen of meds."

"Okay." Janet raised her eyebrows as she bent to pick up her bag. Jack had taken a step forward and he noticed his mother leaned forward to stand.

"What?" Jack asked, annoyed at the Doc's shaking her head.

"No, Rose, have yourself another cup of coffee and Colonel… you sit down. The two of you stay here, talk. I'm gonna have a look see at the patient."

* * *

Daniel was surprised to see only Janet enter the den and from her expression, she seemed taken back that he was sitting up.

"You're awake."

"You're alone."

"Alone?" Janet asked, sitting down on the couch next to Daniel.

"Didn't think Jack would let you examine me without coming along as a guard dog."

"I've instructed Rose to hold his leash very tightly," Janet said, reaching out and capturing both of Daniel's hands in her grip before he had a chance to protest.

"Rose is here?" Daniel made a futile attempt to tug his hands from her grasp, annoyed when he wasn't able to. "I thought I imagined that." Daniel averted his glance, fixating on the sunshine-lit backyard. "I have a hard time differentiating between fantasy…" His breath caught in his throat as he felt Janet push up his sleeves and tsk'ed at the matching reddened scratch marks on his forearms. Daniel cleared his throat before continuing. "Fantasy and reality blend together."

"Did you tell the Colonel…?"

Daniel's bark of laughter was bitter. "Believe me, Janet, Jack's well aware of the head case I've become."

"Daniel! I was going to ask if you'd mentioned to the Colonel how itchy you were."

Daniel freed his hands, pulled down his sleeves down and reached for the glass of water Jack must have left for him. He slammed it back down when he realized he was shaking too badly to maintain his grip on it. "Damn it!"

Janet got up with a sigh. "I'll be right back."

Daniel looked up at her, confused. "Going to get Jack and Rose?"

"No. Just me and you, Daniel. I want you to stay here," she ordered.

"I'm in pajamas, I stink, I probably can't walk two feet without falling over, forget about driving. Where did you think I would go?"

* * *

Daniel gratefully accepted the bottle of water Janet handed him, making no comment that she had already unscrewed the top, and he watched with interest as she placed all the pill bottles on the table in front of them.

"Too many," he said in disgust.

"Maybe," Janet acquiesced. "Maybe, but for now each one serves a purpose. When you left the infirmary, I sent you and the colonel packing with a bag of medication. He was more concerned with your being well and you, right now, are trying to focus on your wellbeing." Janet picked up a pill bottle. "Antibiotic."

"This is ridiculous, Janet," Daniel complained as his long fingers slithered under the sleeves of his pajama top and scratched already abused arms.

Ignoring both his protests and nervous itching, Janet forged ahead, shaking the bottle she held in her hand. "Antibiotic, these are pretty self explanatory."

"Yeah, been there, done that, more times than I would care to remember."

Janet moved the antibiotics to the opposite end of the coffee table, moving to two large OTC drug bottles. "Tylenol and Motrin."

"For the fever and the accompanying headache, yada yada yada as Jack would say."

"What does Daniel say?" Janet asked.

The pajama-clad man coughed, turning his head to the side, then shrugged. "You're the doctor, you tell me."

"Daniel," Janet hissed.

Daniel ducked his head; there was no mistaking the anger in Janet's voice. "The fever is lower today and the headache," Daniel sighed, "comes and goes."

Janet slid those bottles over to join the antibiotic and concentrated on a sleeve of bright pink pills. She lifted it and tapped Daniel's forearm with it. "Benedryl, for the itching."

Guiltily, Daniel slid his hands out of his sleeves and dropped them into his lap.

"Take it. It will work. The itching is a side effect of the sarc, like the sweats and the shakes—"

"I know all that… don't you think I know that?"

Janet put the pills on the table. "I know you're aware of the symptoms. But you need to treat them, not pretend they don't exist."

"I'm not pretending they don't exist," Daniel protested as he raised his reddened arms as proof.

"Okay." Janet threw her hands up in the air. "Tell me when you took the Benedryl or the Compazine to settle your stomach or the Robaxin for the muscle tremors." Janet picked up a tiny bottle. "The sleeping pills. How about those?"

"Nothing," Daniel whispered.

"Nothing?"

"Valium for the addic… Valium, the antibiotic… the Tylenol and Motrin. The Percocet only when Jack changes the bandages. The Decadron and the inhaler. That's it."

"Why?" Janet asked, stunned and puzzled.

"Control." He gave Janet a flash of a smile, coughing.

"They aren't a crutch, Daniel, they're part of the cure. Promise me…"

"Promise you what? Every time I feel sick to my stomach from the antibiotic that I'll take another pill to counteract the queasiness, or whenever I itch because the Valium isn't working I'll pop a fluorescent pink pill… or when it all becomes too much, I'll take a sleeping pill? I can't promise you that, Janet, and you know it. That isn't me… and right about now, I need to hold onto as much of me as I possibly can."

Daniel hated the sympathy in those eyes, the "poor Daniel" look he knew all too well. The gaze that always preceded the change of foster homes or the one he remembered Janet giving him before he had woken up in a white padded room.

"You need sleep."

"I *was* sleeping," Daniel complained indignantly. "I was," he pouted at Janet's 'yeah right' expression.

"You and the Colonel have matching bags and shadows under your eyes."

"So let *him* take the sleeping pill."

"Is this selfishness a new character trait left over from the—"

"I get your point," Daniel sighed.

"Good, I was hoping you would see that others were suffering right by your side."

"I'll take the pill, tonight, okay? I promise. Now can we just get on with whatever it is you came here to do?"

"Fine, Dr. Jackson, strip to your boxers. I'm going to see how well the Colonel has been taking care of you."

* * *

Rose entered the den cautiously, knocking, suddenly feeling like a stranger in her son's house.

"Daniel?"

"You don't have to whisper, Rose, nor do you have to knock."

Rose stayed silent after she sat on the couch next to Daniel, waiting to take clues from him.

"Contrary to what Jack believes, I'm not fragile. You don't have to tip toe or knock on doors around me. Though rolling your eyes or mouthing the words 'Daniel's nuts' is considered acceptable." Daniel shifted on the couch, using the palms of his hands to lever his body. "Where *is* Jack, by the way?"

"Walking Janet to the car."

"You don't want to hear all the gory details?"

Rose met the challenge in Daniel's glance head on. "No. I don't need to listen to Janet spout any medical terminology to make any decision. I can see just by looking at you—"

"You've been in this room for less than five minutes. Okay." Daniel moved so he faced Rose. "Tell me, come on, I'm curious, how am I doing?"

"You're being a bastard."

"Okay," Daniel conceded. "I'll give you one."

"You're physically hurting."

"Two, but that's a given, just by looking at me."

"Angry, disappointed."

"Keep going, you're on a roll."

"And you're scared. Scared—scared of both remembering or not remembering whatever happened."

"Jack told you?"

"Jack told me you couldn't remember." Rose reached out and grabbed Daniel's retreating hand. "It's okay to be afraid."

From this angle, Rose watched as Daniel's eyes filled, but there were no tears and she held her disappointment in check when Daniel averted his face to look out the den's windows.

"Fear is a human emotion. Fear of the unknown, the darkness, what lies beyond. Damn straight I'm afraid. But if you'll excuse me, it's past lunch time and I'm going to make myself something to eat."

* * *

With badly shaking hands, Daniel attempted to construct a sandwich. The twist tie on the bread was impossible to unravel and eventually he just ripped open the bag, extracting two slices. Then, it took two tries to open the plastic wrapped cold cuts and he gave up slicing a tomato after the first try.

"Let me help," Rose gently tugged the knife from Daniel's grasp. Stunned, Daniel allowed Rose to take the utensil and he was mortified as big fat tears began to roll down his cheeks as he observed Rose deftly slicing the tomato into thin, precise pieces. Head down, side by side, the security of Rose performing such a mundane household chore forced the tide of tears to turn to loud, embarrassing sobs.

"Oh God," he stuttered, hiccupping as he attempted to draw a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he pushed the half made sandwich away, feeling sick to his stomach at the mere sight of the cheese and turkey. "I'm not even hungry. I don't know why I thought I was."

Involuntarily Daniel jumped, pulling his shoulders up around his ears when the clatter of the dropped knife into the porcelain sink seemed to echo inordinately loud. "I'm not usually this jumpy," he apologized, swiping his running nose with the sleeve of his pajama top, sniffing in what the flannel didn't catch. "You may not believe it, but I don't ever remember crying over someone slicing tomatoes for my sandwich."

"I understand," Rose said in a voice filled with empathy as she patted Daniel's forearm. "But all you had to say was, no you didn't want tomato, I wouldn't have been offended. Honest."

Daniel's answer was somewhere between a snort and a sob at Rose's remark and brought the heel of his hand up to catch the moisture leaking from his nose which his sleeve had missed.

"Don't you even think of doing anything so disgusting," Rose commanded, stopping Daniel's hand and depositing a tissue from her pocket into the open palm. "Blow." She waited until he was finished blowing and wiping before plucking at Daniel's sleeve. "Did my son teach you that disgusting habit?"

"Which disgusting habit of Daniel's am I going to take credit for?" Jack asked as he entered the kitchen.

Hurriedly, Daniel scrubbed at his eyes, embarrassed not only at his loss of control but at Jack's and Rose's patience as he regained his composure. He let the two of them continue to banter about his bodily functions before he felt confident enough to intervene.

"Excuse me," he said, turning, "I'm right here in the room with you… do you think this topic of conversation could possibly wait until I was out of earshot."

Jack wagged his eyebrows at Daniel. "Nah… what fun would that be? It's more fun to discuss your farting and burping with my mother, 'cause Teal'c and Carter already know all of your nasty habits. Mom's still an innocent in that area."

Daniel's glance volleyed over to Rose as she gathered up the sandwich on the counter, arranged it onto a plate, and shoved it into Daniel's hands. "You mean using his shirt sleeve to wipe up his snot is just the tip of the iceberg?" Rose asked innocently, winking at Daniel.

Daniel stood there, dumbfounded, while Rose took a seat at the table, opposite Jack. "Daniel? Care to join us?" Jack asked, pushing the chair out with his foot. Warily Daniel sat down at the edge of the chair.

"Why don't you sit back?" Rose admonished, "You'll be more comfortable."

"No, it's okay, Rose." Daniel said, choking down a bite of sandwich, hoping to distract her. "For now this is fine."

Jack gave Daniel a look of sympathy so intense that Daniel had no choice but to lower his eyes. He knew that Jack and Janet had discussed him and how she had treated his injuries, but knowing and seeing *that* look in Jack's eyes, Daniel couldn't help but feel utterly humiliated. "Hey, don't fill up on the sandwich," Jack ordered. "Frasier said you look like I'm starving you… so tonight's dinner is your choice."

Nothing at the moment appealed to Daniel, food held no interest but for the sake of the two people gazing expectantly at him, he chose Chinese.

* * *

Daniel blinked at Rose. Slowly bringing her into focus as she began to set to the table, moving around him. Jack had gone to pick up the food, but Daniel couldn't help but think of it as excuse to escape, but that was fine, 'cause he wished he could *escape*, so he couldn't fault Jack at all.

As he studied Rose, he felt a smile building, the first in a while and it felt strange, and the fact that it *felt* strange was strange.

"Rose?" Daniel gripped her hand as she set a fork next to his place setting.

Now it was Rose's turn to blink.
"Thank you for coming."

Her smile lead Daniel to believe he had never told her he was glad she was here and he ducked his head in embarrassment when he felt her lips brush over his hair.

"That's what family does."

* * *

"What are you doing, Daniel. I got it." Rose grabbed the white containers out of Daniel's outstretched hands.

"I need to get up… walk around."

"Why? So you can make all that food that you *didn't* eat digest."

"I ate."

"I'm old, not stupid, mhuirnin, ripping up and rearranging one moo shu pork pancake and removing the fortune from fortune cookies does not constitute dinner."

"Hey, I took the required bite of the fortune cookie, and I drank the soup," Daniel groused.

"Okay, I'll give you that," Rose agreed as she began to pick up and put down the various pill bottles on the counter, squinting at the various labels.

"What are you looking for?" Daniel asked sharply.

"This," Rose said. She twisted the top off one of the plastic bottles and shook it until a single pill dropped into her palm. Rose moved her hand in front of Daniel, gently poking him in the chest, allowing the pill to bounce enticingly around.

"Take it. Things will look better after a good night's sleep."

Daniel picked the pill up and rolled it between his fingers, contemplating. "This little pill will make things better, Rose?"

"You'll sleep, Daniel, a little sleep never hurt anyone."

* * *

Jack hated this, actually abhorred waking a slumbering Daniel. He had forced Daniel into bed about two hours ago when he kept nodding off in the middle of the movie; now he was shaking him awake, apologizing at his forgetfulness in reminding him to taking the evening meds.

A half moon of bleary blue appeared and Jack gently tugged on Daniel's bicep, hauling him to a sitting position. Daniel shoved Jack away and stood, swaying.

"Whoa, Daniel. No need to get outta bed." Jack chuckled. He swung the bottle of water in front of Daniel, smiling as Daniel's eyes tracked the pendulum swing of the bottle.

"Why d'ja wake me if I don' have to get up?" Daniel slurred, listing towards Jack.

"Meds," Jack answered, propping Daniel back to the upright position.

"Oh." Daniel dropped sideways, bouncing on the mattress.

"Here." Jack took Daniel's right hand and transferred the pills from his palm to Daniel's. He cupped his hand under Daniel's for support and stood guard as Daniel emptied his hand of the pills, one at a time, without question. "Drink this." Jack shoved the bottle into Daniel's hand and waved his finger to convey that more than a sip was required to wash the pills down.

Daniel began to cough and for a split second, Jack was afraid the pills and the water were going to reappear, and he held the garbage can hovering by Daniel's stomach.

Daniel dropped the half filled water bottle into the garbage and proceeded to push it away. "Fine," he mumbled hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Sleep," he yawned, "Just what Janet ordered… sleep because you need it, she said." Daniel hunkered down, haphazardly drawing blankets all about him.

Jack withdrew the water bottle, placed it on the nightstand by Daniel's glasses and, as a safety measure, placed the pail within arm's reach. He tugged down the blanket and gauged Daniel's temperature by a ghost of a kiss to his temple. "Yes, Daniel," Jack said, adjusting the blankets around the sleeping man, "sleep is just what the doctor ordered."

* * *

Something was wrong. A shadow that seemed to flit along Daniel's subconscious moving slow enough to sense something was out of place but traveling too fast for him to grasp. Intuition, a sense honed from years with SG-1.

"Major Athans…" Daniel hissed, annoyed that SG-12's team leader paid him no heed and continued to travel the paved road to their destination. Daniel stopped short and both Lts. Revlon and Acadia were forced to veer around him to avoid bowling Daniel over. Subconsciously, Daniel's hand rested on his side arm, and he called the major's name again, louder, with more insistence.

"Dr. Jackson." Major Athans pivoted. "May I ask what's so important?"

Daniel stepped into the major's personal space, head down, whispering. "This isn't right," he explained with a sweep of his hand.

"Dr. Jackson, *what* exactly do you mean. We're already running behind schedule, and from what *you* informed us in the briefing, the Paas are very punctual people. 'Quite anal about being on time' I believe were your exact words."

Frustrated, Daniel pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. "Yes," he stuttered, "thanks for listening… but this is festival time for them and from what SG-1 learned at our last encounter…"

"SG-12 is here to finalize a treaty for mining rights, *you're* here too because they requested you, do you understand that? I for one am certainly not going back to General Hammond and informing him that we lost the treaty because the *civilian* told the military leader that he had a *feeling*."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Daniel noticed the fringe of bushes to his left move in the nonexistent breeze and he had only a second to issue an Abydonian curse before the Goa'uld sonic bomb rolled between him and the major.

* * *

Daniel awoke with a horrific headache, a ringing in his ears and the knowledge that he'd been right. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to bring the world into focus, with no luck. Blind, one of the more endearing side effects of the sonic bomb. He took a deep breath and did what Jack had always drummed into him. Assess the situation. Okay, he had been stripped of his jacket and boots, his watch and vest were also missing, their familiar weight missing and though his hands were painfully bound at the wrists, surprisingly, his feet were free. He was lying on his stomach on a soft cushion and when he scissored his unbound legs, Daniel was able to ascertain that the cushion seemed to be the size of a nice sized mattress. He fought to find purchase on its spongy surface to sit upright.

"Major? Lt. Revlon? Acadia?" Daniel called. He tried their names again when he received no answer. Grunting, he slid off the mattress, landing hard on a cold cement floor. He sat there awhile, resting his back on the bed, blinking his eyes, willing them to focus, breathing heavily, and concentrated past the shadows until the outline against the wall firmed into a door. He pushed himself upright then took two unsteady steps towards freedom, but would have fallen flat on his face if a pair of arms hadn't grabbed him. He froze at the timbre in the voice.

"Daniel Jackson of the Tau'ri, you are leaving already? Has not my god given you comfortable accommodations?"

Out of habit, Daniel's rote 'false god' earned him a backhand across the face and a forceful toss onto the bed. Daniel scrabbled up the bed, squinting. He was still recovering from the aftereffects of the sonic bomb and, coupled with the fact he was without his glasses, there was no way in hell he was able to make out the tattoo adorning this man's forehead. "Okay, you know my name—how about you introduce yourself to me?"

"You will know soon enough."

"Where are the people I was with?"

"They are with friends. You—"

"Am locked in against my will," Daniel answered with more confidence than he felt.

"Are very rude, Jackson of the Tau'ri, rude, but very beautiful."

"I bet you say that to all the Tau'ri you hold hostage." Daniel began to slither around the bed, attempting to put as much distance between himself and the man who had begun to make him very nervous. He jerked in surprise when quick as lightning hands gripped his ankles, anchoring him to the mattress. Daniel bucked and attempted to throw a punch with bound wrists but he had no leverage to do any damage.

"You may scream, Daniel Jackson." The Jaffa cocked his head. "Actually I would prefer that you scream."

Daniel earned himself another backhand when he spit in the face that now hovered over his.

"I would advise you not to do that again." He wiped Daniel's spittle off his face with the tips of his fingers, then outlined Daniel's mouth with the moisture.

Daniel turned to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood. "Isn't your boss gonna be annoyed when you damage the merchandise?" Daniel teased.

"That is what the sarcophagus is for." Daniel shuddered in revulsion as a rough tongue licked his neck. "And if you listen very closely, you will hear your teammates scream as my master questions them… but I have been given permission to play with you as I see fit, before my god requests your presence."

Daniel fought and bucked as the massive body worked his way up his torso, capturing his bound hands and forcing them over his head. Daniel's struggles earned him a powerful punch to the temple and when he regained consciousness he was again lying on his stomach with the First Prime's body crushing his to the mattress.

Daniel began to curse in Goa'uld and dug his teeth into the palm that had moved to cover his mouth.

"I like when you struggle, young one." Daniel could feel the Jaffa rub his bloody hand on his shirt, wiping it clean. "Fight me some more," he hissed into Daniel's ear, the hot putrid breath in close proximity, nauseating Daniel. He began to pant, breathing through his mouth to ward off the odiferous smell of the Jaffa's desire. Daniel's lungs huffed in a futile attempt to capture oxygen under the weight of the body holding him down.

* * *

Daniel's erratic panting woke Jack out of a sound sleep.

"Wake up, Daniel," he said to the restless man, self-preservation reminding him to keep his distance.

Daniel continued to fight with his nighttime demons, English words interspersed with Goa'uld terms. Angry words. Jack managed to latch onto more of the tone than being able to translate. "So much for a full night's sleep." With a sigh of exasperation, Jack slid up the mattress, leaned over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

Jack shook his head. While in the throes of the nightmare, Daniel had managed to twist his unsettled body tightly in the blanket, cocooning his limbs so securely he was now struggling against its confines. He had moved from his stomach to his side with his fingers interlocked with each other. He was breathing heavily and Jack believed he had no choice but to reposition Daniel. Hopefully after he accomplished that, they both could get back to sleep and more importantly, halt this nightmare before it escalated into something that would bring a panicked, overly curious mother to their doorway.

"Daniel, wake up," Jack ordered, bending over him to release the blanket tucked under his body.

"Nonononono," Daniel muttered, throwing his joined hands backwards, narrowly missing Jack's jaw. Daniel jerked his shoulder out from under Jack's weight, connecting with his lover's sternum so forcefully that Jack's hand slipped from adjusting the blanket. Daniel turned onto his stomach, flopping around like a fish out of water, burrowing his face into the pillow, banging his still joined fingers against the headboard.

Jack grabbed Daniel's hands and forgetting about the injuries to his back, he pressed into Daniel, hoping to provide comfort. "You're home, it's okay," Jack whispered into Daniel's ear.

The plan backfired and Daniel bucked convulsively under Jack. Tucking his knees under his stomach, forcing his ass into the air, Jack had no choice but to release Daniel.

"Wake up!" Jack shouted as he roughly shook Daniel's trembling shoulder.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch! Do. Not. Touch. Me!" Daniel yelled before becoming a mass of warring arms and legs. Jack was fighting to pin down any moving appendage he could grab when Daniel suddenly went limp in his grasp.

"Thank you," Jack whispered, looking heavenward. Tentatively, he carded his shaking fingers through Daniel's sweaty, soaked strands.

"Oh god, no," Daniel pleaded, begging for mercy, averting his head from Jack's touch.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, his useless hands falling into his lap. He then cringed in horror and fought the urge to cup his hands over his ears as Daniel lifted his head, tilted it back and filled the bedroom and Jack's soul with a scream of anger and frustration.

* * *

"Jack?"

"Just a nightmare, Mom, go back to bed," Jack replied impatiently, trying to still a thrashing Daniel.

"Dammit, Jack, that doesn't look like *just* a nightmare to me."

"Jeeze, Mom, not now," Jack shouted over his shoulder, loosening his grip on Daniel. "Damn!" Daniel used Jack's distraction to his advantage and pushed off Jack, offsetting his balance and sending his body and part of the blanket to the floor with a resounding thud.

"Oh mhuirnin," Rose exclaimed, rushing to Daniel's aid.

Jack jumped off the edge of the bed, playing defensive guard between his mother and Daniel. "Stop," he ordered, throwing up his hands. "Just stay where you are." He bent on creaking knees. "Daniel," Jack whispered, copying Daniel's familiar 'meet and great the aliens' posture of extended hands, palms facing upwards. "Come on back to bed." Jack tugged at the blanket.

"Not again," Daniel begged, his eyes opened wide but not seeing the bedroom. Of that, Jack was positive. He crabwalked away from Jack, backing up until he literally hit the wall. "Nonononononono," he shook his head emphatically. "Don't you understand, I won't talk."

"I promise I won't put you back in there," Jack said softly.

"I won't talk," Daniel threatened, "And there's no one left to kill but me. Only me. All dead."

"It's okay," Jack said, "I understand."

Daniel nodded, closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wall, drawing a deep breath. Jack counted to twelve Mississippi and Daniel still remained motionless.

"Daniel?" When he received no response, coherent or otherwise, Jack exhaled loudly. "I think he's sleeping," he said, scooting over to Daniel.

"My name is Daniel Jackson, Dr. Daniel Jackson," Daniel began, eyes popping open the moment Jack touched him. "I'm an archaeologist on SG-1." Daniel nervously licked his lips, beginning again. "My name is Daniel Jackson, Dr. Daniel Jackson. I'm an archaeologist on SG-1, we are peaceful explorers. My name is—" on and on Daniel droned.

"Shit," Jack leaned over and tapped the top of the nightstand, cursing again when he found the cradle for the cordless empty, the vision of it on the kitchen counter taunting him. "Mom, get my cell phone, it's on the dresser—I need to call Fraiser."

Blindly, Jack stuck his hand out and his mom slapped the phone into his waiting palm. Jack trained his glance on Daniel, never letting it waver and he was almost relieved when Daniel's breathing became fast and irregular, hoping maybe he'd hyperventilate, pass out and put and end to this nightmare.

"Mom," Jack hissed as she sat down within an arm's length of Daniel. "What the hell are you doing?"

She began to hum a tune Jack was vaguely familiar with but the name escaped him. "Shut up and call Janet, okay? Jack! Just do it!" Though the sentence was spoken softly, her eyes sparked with annoyance over Jack's hesitation.

Jack punched in the numbers to Fraiser's cell phone, the one glued to the woman's side since Cassie had begun to drive, and between Daniel's rant and his mother's humming, Jack was positive he, himself, was one step away from a nice, white padded room.

"Sorry," was the first word out of his mouth. "It's late, I mean early—I mean we have a situation here. Daniel. I gave him his meds about—" Jack checked the bedside clock, "two hours ago along with a sleeping pill. What, Mom?"

"Me, too," Rose muttered.

"Hold on a minute, Doc. You too what?"

"I gave Daniel a sleeping pill also," Rose admitted.

"Two pills, Janet. Daniel's had two sleeping pills, plus the Compazine, the Valium, damn the whole fuckin' medicine chest and he's traveled from a humdinger of some sort of nightmare-flashback thingie into a full fledged flashback that I can't pull him out of." Jack nodded. "Now? Daniel's doing a rendition of name, rank and serial number." Jack could feel his face harden. "I know, Doc. I understand and yes we discussed this. *But* telling me to ride this out at the moment is not the answer." The exhausted man scrubbed at his face, bringing his hand up to slide through his grey hair. "Are you sure? What about—? Okay, you're the doc, Doc."

Flipping the phone shut, he tossed it onto the bed.

"Daniel?" Rose spoke, softly, her hand reaching out to touch Daniel's shoulder.

"Damn it, move!" Jack shouted, throwing his body over Daniel's to stop the fist that was headed towards his startled mother. "Move," he commanded again as he felt Daniel slide to the floor under their combined weight. "Start the shower, now!" He grunted as his partner's long legs fought Jack's for purchase on the wood floor. "Mom, cool water - Fraiser's orders." Holding Daniel still was like battling an octopus, all arms and legs and Jack jerked his arm away from the proximity of Daniel's snapping jaw.

"It's done," his mother replied from the doorway separating the bathroom from the bedroom.

"Upsie daisy, big guy," Jack said, attempting to haul Daniel upright by his arms, landing hard on his ass when Daniel kicked and took Jack's feet right out from underneath him.

* * *

Jack knelt under the cool, streaming shower spray with Daniel, the two of them sporting more bruises than when the night had begun. Face to face, still fully clothed, and soaked. Jack had shoved the struggling man under the water, following right behind him, sliding the shower door closed in his mother's face.

Daniel's agitation increased twofold the second the water hit his body. Jack apologized profusely as he pinned the incoherent man to the slippery tile wall. Holding him in place with the weight of his body, Jack changed the temperature of the water from cool to tepid to warm, feeling Daniel's body relax in increments.

Jack forced Daniel to his knees and accompanied him to make sure he didn't fall face-first onto the porcelain. The previously flaying arms had made contact with Jack's jaw and he rotated it now, touching it tenderly, positive he would be wearing an array of colors later today.

The harsh breathing had halted, the physical argument had stopped and Daniel's knees gave out and he sat with a splash, letting the water flow over his bowed head. Jack sat also, pulling Daniel along the tub, awkwardly wrapping his legs and arms around the quiet man, maneuvering Daniel's head until it rested on his shoulder, whispering nonsensical words of comfort until the trembling stopped. "Daniel, I think we're finished here, okay?"

Lazily, Daniel acquiesced with a nod. "Finished. No more," he repeated, his words slurred and barely understandable. He lifted his head and blinked at Jack, confused. "It's raining?"

Jack kept one hand on Daniel's chest and turned off the water with the other before sliding open the shower doors. "Mom," he yelled, leaning his head out the door.

"I'm right here." She peeked in through the opened shower door. "My opinion? Strip in the shower. You and Daniel. I've grabbed plenty of towels."

"Strip?"

"My god, Jonathan? Shy? I'm your mother, no matter how old you are." She disappeared from Jack's line and vision and returned holding a towel like a matador. "I won't peek, I promise. Come on," she said with a flick of the towel. "Daniel needs—" she cleared her throat and stood a little straighter when she continued. "Daniel needs to get out of those clothes."

* * *

Jack and Rose were matching bookends to Daniel's sleeping body. He was in the middle of the bed, under the covers, snoring and oblivious to Jack and Rose as they sat, pillows propped behind their backs, leaning up against the headboard.

Rose held one of Daniel's hands, lightly caressing his fingers, watching the peacefully slumbering man with one eye, the other eye watching Jack fiddle with the cell phone, flipping it from hand to hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what, ma?"

"Butting in. Thinking I knew better. Giving Daniel medication without talking to your first."

"You're a mother."

"And?"

"You wanted to make things better."

"I screwed up. I butted in where I had no right to."

"You care. No harm in that—no harm done."

"I still feel badly." Rose smiled as Jack leaned over Daniel and kissed her cheek.

"You're a mom, guilt is your middle name."

"Don't get fresh."

"Come on, you have to agree my attitude keeps you on your toes. Sharpens your senses *and* makes you feel years younger just having me around to reprimand."

Daniel mumbled something Rose was unable to understand. She raised the blanket to cover his exposed shoulder. "What did Janet say?" Rose asked. As soon as Daniel had been settled in bed, she had insisted that her son call the doctor back.

Jack dropped the cell phone onto the night table, punching the pillows into shape. "The same thing she told me this afternoon. It was only a matter of time before Daniel hit a brick wall. It wasn't the pills, or the withdrawal, or his sleeping patterns, or not eating - it wasn't any one thing. She warned me, she said these things would finally explode. And she was right."

"And now?"

Jack shrugged. "Best case scenario, he'll sleep the rest of the night and wake up sometime tomorrow and remember everything. Worst case, we could get an instant replay of what happened earlier—it's a crap shoot."

"You're saying Janet doesn't know."

"Yup, that's it in a nutshell."

* * *

Daniel withdrew his hand from Rose's and furtively searched out his other hand, clasping them tightly together. Jack's own hand hovered over Daniel's shoulder, waiting, eventually falling back into his lap when Daniel tucked his joined hands under his cheek with a sigh.

"His back. How could...? Why would *anyone* want to do him harm? How did it happen? The prognosis?"

"He'll heal. It hurts. It's uncomfortable. And the people…" Jack leaned his head back and rested it where his bunched up pillows met the headboard. "Stop it," Jack said gently, the hardness of his voice covered over by weariness. "You knew the parameters before you even came here—no questions. There's no who, what, when, where, or why. I'm sorry," he added more softly.

"I'm sorry also," Rose replied sadly, sliding from the bed and taking her pillows. She leaned over and kissed Daniel's cheek. "He feels warm to me," she stated, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. "Should I get him anything?"

"Nothing. He's had enough drugs for the night," Jack said, smoothing down Daniel's still damp hair. "We'll sort it all out after we've slept." He moved his hand to the back of Daniel's neck. "Temp doesn't feel that high. And Mom?"

Rose turned slowly, hugging her pillows to her chest, yawning. She smiled when she caught Jack mirroring her yawn. "Contagious," she mumbled.

"Tired," he answered, smiling. "Do me a favor? Leave the door open, just in case."

"Just in case?"

"In case Daniel wakes up and he wants you or maybe…"

"If you need me, Johnny?"

Rose dropped the pillows at the end of the bed, took four steps and gathered her son in her arms, holding back a grunt of surprise at the strength of his grip. "It's okay to need me, you know that."

She could feel his nod against her neck before Jack gently pushed her away. "I'm too old to need my mommy."

"Oh, you just don't get it," Rose tsk'ed, picking up her pillows. "It's not about blood relationships, mothers or fathers. This," Rose's glance traveled from Jack to Daniel. "Us, the three of us. Is about understanding and faith."

* * *

Jack was shaving when Daniel shuffled into the bathroom. He made no comment as Daniel peed, he just lent a supportive arm to Daniel's elbow when he seemed to sway a little too dangerously for the bathroom setting.

"I'm okay," Daniel said as he jerked his arm from Jack's grasp and grabbed the counter to hold himself steady.

"Okay, just make sure you keep your aim steady, just had the mat washed."

Daniel weakly shouldered Jack to the side so he could wash his hands in the sink. "Ha ha," Daniel replied sarcastically, drying his hands on the towel on the counter. He paused, catching the reflection of Jack's grimace in the mirror as he stroked the razor over a darkening bruise.

"It's nothing," Jack said quickly, using the towel that Daniel had just discarded to gently wipe away the excess shaving cream.

"It's not nothing, Jack." Daniel reached out and tenderly touched the mark. "I may be confused, but I'm *positive* that wasn't there last night. Was it?"

Jack shook his head.

"I did that?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

Jack snagged him by the sweatshirt before he could leave the bathroom.

"And I did that," Jack said, bringing Daniel's wrists into their line of vision, cringing at the mass of bruises circling both hands.

Daniel's brow furrowed in concentration and Jack could do nothing but bury his disappointment when Daniel admitted that he remembered nothing.

Jack followed Daniel back into the bedroom and made no move to stop him as Daniel slid under the covers, turning his face to the wall. "Still tired," Daniel lied. Jack had no trouble seeing through the false yawn and hated himself for not having the strength or courage to force Daniel's nightmares into the light of morning.

"It's from all the drugs from last night," Jack said. "And fever, you still have a slight fever," was Jack's lame excuse.

"Headache," Daniel admitted, burying a cough into the pillow.

"I'll wake you in about an hour for breakfast."

"Set the alarm, it's obviously safer," Daniel warned sarcastically.

* * *

Jack pasted a smile on his face before opening the door. "Carter. Teal'c. Welcome back."

The last thing Jack felt up to was putting on a façade for those that knew him best. He was tired, and crabby and cranky, but could well understand their desire to see Daniel, and for that reason he couldn't dissuade them from visiting today.

* * *

Jack was annoyed for not trusting his own instincts and turning down their need to visit. He wondered if his teammates could see through Daniel's forced gaiety and exuberance as they sat around the dining room table eating lunch.

Daniel awkwardly stumbled through his end of the conversation, trying to add to the flow, laughing a little too loudly and harshly in places where humor wasn't needed. Jack was itching to touch him to confirm the feverish flush to his cheeks, but Daniel seemed brittle and on edge and Jack fought to keep his hands to himself.

"Maybe you want to lie down, Daniel?" Carter asked, her fork frozen between her plate and her mouth after Daniel blinked in confusion at a simple question she had asked.

"No! I'm fine," he barked. Daniel picked up his glass and gulped down half of it.

Daniel buried his interest in the food on his plate and Jack took advantage of Daniel's distraction to warn the people sitting around the table with an emphatic shake of his head and silently mouthed "no" to let sleeping dogs lie and stay silent.

Tentatively, conversation was resumed and Daniel began to use his fork to tap a repetitive rhythm on the side of his dish. But it was the bobbing of Daniel's right leg brushing continually up and down Jack's left leg that pushed Jack over the edge.

"Daniel," Jack whispered, forgetting his own warning by applying the gentlest of pressure on the nervously bopping leg.

Talking came to a screeching halt at Daniel's loud exclamation of surprise. Jack sat horrified when Daniel flung the fork in a knee jerk reaction and it made a graceful arc through the air, spiraling prongs over handle, then shattering Teal'c's water glass on impact. Daniel leaped up, his momentum knocking his chair to the ground. Instinctively, Jack threw out his arm, unsure of whether he was making the effort to catch Daniel or the chair.

Like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching truck, Daniel's eyes widened, his breath quickened and he froze, his glance sliding around the room when concerned voices called his name.

Daniel had begun to tremble, panting as if he was struggling for breath and he stepped back, hitting Jack's arm, batting it out of the way. He stumbled over the legs of the overturned chair and balanced himself by grabbing the half wall behind him.

Jack stood slowly. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry…" Daniel stuttered. His eyebrows gathered together, his upper teeth tugged and pulled at his bottom lip and Jack cringed as embarrassment flooded Daniel's face.

* * *

Cornered by concerned, sympathetic looks, Daniel held onto the wall for support, waving away Jack's approach. "I'm okay," he stammered, bending slowly, righting the fallen chair. Daniel patted the back of the chair and offered the shocked faces around the table a hesitant, reassuring smile. "Please don't," Daniel said when he realized the whole luncheon contingent were on their feet. "I'm just going to—I'll be..." Daniel's hands fluttered through the air, searching for the words he couldn't find. With a heavy sigh, he dropped them by his side. "Excuse me," was all he managed to sputter before leaving the room.

* * *

He had never considered himself a coward, but sitting on the cold bathroom floor, his back pressed against the locked door, Daniel was terrified of his loss of control. The pain in his back as he forcefully leaned against the door was grounding him, allowing him a sense of reality, normalcy.

Was he terrified because for a moment he'd found himself somewhere other than at the dining room table? Somewhere back on the planet reliving whatever the hell had happened there? Was it the shadows on the wall that had frightened him or the fact that the shadows remained silent, teasing him with fleeting flashbacks? Was he more afraid of remembering or terrified that he would *never* remember. Neither prospect seemed either promising or hopeful.

Only two things enticed him. One would be to crawl into the bed on the other side of the door and drag the covers over his head and pretend he hadn't lost two weeks of his life. The other idea would be to find a way to go back in time and to stop himself from ever making that fated trip to the planet. For a second Daniel permitted the fantasy of "what ifs" to wash over him, nauseated at his own cowardliness, his desire to escape and his refusal to remember.

"Go away, Jack," was Daniel's answer to the knock on the door.

"It is I, DanielJackson, not O'Neill."

"Oh, in that case, *please* go away, Teal'c."

"I will not."

"Your choice, but you're missing an excellent lunch."

"I am missing something more important than nourishment, I am missing my friend."

"Please, Teal'c," Daniel begged. "I need time. Just give me time." He was beginning to hate the mantra of those words.

"There is no need to hurry."

Daniel's bark of sarcastic laughter echoed in the tiled bathroom. "I believe my desire to remain here will exceed your ability to stand guard outside the bathroom door."

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"If wishes were fishes," Daniel mumbled.

"I do not understand that reference."

Daniel sighed. "If wishes were fishes we'd all be throwing nets. If wishes were horses we'd all ride."

"Do you wish for a net?"

"I don't need a net, Teal'c. The men in white have more than enough of those to catch me with." Daniel heard something and thought he must have been mistaken. He pressed his ear to the door to check. "Teal'c, did you just sigh?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I did not. I expressed exasperation at my inability to not understand yet another comment that you have spoken about, those men in white. I am sorry."

Now it was Daniel's turn to sigh.

"May I ask what is it you are wishing for, DanielJackson, if you do not desire a net or a horse?"

"Control, the ability to remember, the need to forget."

"Those items appear to be contradictory."

"Yeah, you noticed that, too?" Daniel shrugged. "I'm thinking that's probably part of my problem, if not all of my problem."

"Then you are confused," Teal'c stated smugly.

"That's putting it mildly."

"SG-1 will not fail you."

Daniel shifted, the burning ache across his shoulders and his back forcing a change of position. "Fail me?" Daniel gritted his teeth and rocked back and forth on his numb ass cheeks trying to alleviate the growing discomfort.

"I will not permit you to be subjected to the atrocities of Mental Health once again as you—"

"Thank you for your concern." Daniel cut Teal'c off. For him to think about the white padded room was one thing, but for Teal'c to mention it made it feel like a possible reality. "I'll be out in a few minutes," Daniel promised.

"Do you require me to wait?"

"No." Daniel swallowed the angry words that wanted to follow. "I'll be fine," he assured his friend, offering a smile that Teal'c couldn't even see.

"As you wish," Teal'c answered and Daniel shifted sideways, bending his ear toward the door, straining to hear the floorboards creaking under Teal'c's weight as he departed the bedroom.

* * *

"Coffee's fresh, and Carter bought a great chocolate…" Daniel watched as Jack picked up his fork and examined what it held. "What's this called again?"

"Death by Chocolate, sir."

"Whatever," Jack mumbled around the forkful of dessert he had just shoved into his mouth. "Ith delithoush." Jack grabbed his coffee and swallowed, smacking his lips. "It's right up your alley, Daniel. Go get yourself a piece."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Jack," Rose admonished.

Daniel stood there, unsure of whether he should apologize or play their game of ignorance.

"Would you like me to get you a piece?" Sam offered.

"Coffee?" Daniel squeaked.

"Sure, cake and coffee," Sam said, standing. "Anyone else?"

Daniel saw Jack open his mouth and wave his plate in Sam's direction and Rose spoke for her son, commenting about too much chocolate. Daniel stood blinking at the good natured argument that ensued.

Sam returned with Daniel's coffee and cake and he felt her prodding him gently towards the seat she had vacated. He dropped onto the corner of the couch and accepted the food and drink from her outstretched hand.

"Well?" Jack asked.

"Well what?"

"I believe O'Neill would like your opinion on the cake."

"Oh, sorry." Daniel took a bite and tasted nothing. He could smell the cloying sweetness of the chocolate, but the texture was pure sawdust and he fought to swallow the clump sitting in his mouth. Daniel put the plate down and hastily reached for the coffee mug on the end table.

"So?"

Daniel looked over the rim of his mug at the four pair of eyes waiting expectantly for his opinion. He lowered the mug, palming it, soaking up the warmth. "Great, Sam."

"See, I told you, Teal'c, this was a good choice. You had to see the two of us in the bakery, I wanted this cake and Teal'c wanted cream puffs."

"Cream puffs?" Jack chortled. "For some reason, T, I just can't see you ordering those."

Daniel played mental volleyball as his gaze flitted from one person to another, anger and confusion reigning as they accepted his silent presence, no one commenting on the unfinished mug of coffee or the uneaten cake.

* * *

Daniel was sleeping, clothed only in sweat pants, spread eagle on his stomach, huffing shallowly, the recently treated, healing wounds on his back barely visible in the gloom of the bedroom. He had easily acquiesced to Jack's offer of a bowl of cereal after Carter and Teal'c had left, which had been refilled when Jack found him slurping down the milk, practically licking the bowl. He'd held his tongue and simply poured more into the bowl, adding milking, and Daniel had ended up with two bowls, a handful of meds, averted eyes and forced conversation as Jack followed Fraiser's step-by-step instructions.

Jack paused mid-bend, one hand on the bottle of cleansing solution, the other hand gripping the open door of the vanity as he replaced Daniel's medical supplies to their assigned bathroom shelf, when Daniel's guttural Goa'uld followed him into the bathroom. "Damn it, Daniel" he sputtered, "Can't you just sleep?"

Angrily, he flung the plastic bottle into the recesses of the cabinet and dropped the rest of the medical paraphernalia onto the vanity before stepping out into the bedroom.

He was no fool, he'd learned his lesson from last night and earlier today, and now he stood a safe distance from the bed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his guts twisting painfully as he watched the scenario being played out before him.

Puppetlike, pulled by mental strings, Daniel's hands sought each other out until right and left fingers intertwined. Jack backed up, blindly searching for the chair and sat heavily, his eyes glued to the bed, powerless to stop Daniel's nightmare, remembering all too well and clearly his own nightmares of Iraq.

Tonight's nightmare was quicker, Daniel fought less, spoke more. His tone quality traveled from his patently "peaceful explorer" voice over to exasperation, ending with pinpricks of blood dotting his lower lip as he stifled a scream when he was forced to acquiesce to his demon's demands.

Tonight, in this bedroom, Jack's age caught up with him as he shakily rose from the chair and shuffled over to the bed. Daniel was sleeping on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. Jack knew it was idiotic, but the way Daniel's face was stuffed into the pillow, all he could think of was suffocation. Stupid, he knew, and he had to battle down the urge to wake him, but it was Daniel's hands, the fingers tightly entangled together that stopped Jack. It appeared that Daniel was still running with the visions of his nightmares still nipping at his heels so Jack settled for pulling the covers over Daniel's sweaty body.

* * *

"Daniel?"

Daniel was sitting, crossed legged, bare chested, his arms hanging limply in his lap, eyes closed, his forehead was resting against the glass of the French doors.

"Daniel?" she whispered again, hesitantly.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he apologized.

"You didn't wake me, I'm old, I get up a few times a night because the bladder isn't what it used to be," Rose explained, sliding on slippered feet closer to Daniel. "What are you doing up?"

"The pills."

"Oh, are you in pain? Do you want or need anything?"

"God, no," he snorted. Daniel rotated his head, gazing sleepily at Rose. "The pills make me sleep like the dead and then I'm up— just... up. I didn't want to wake up Jack, so instead my night wanderings woke you up." Daniel sighed. "Sorry."

Rose bent and planted a kiss to the top of Daniel's head. "Don't apologize, mhuirnin, please." She leaned forward, pressing her nose against the glass, the absence of light in the kitchen allowed the back yard to be visible in the darkness. Rose tapped the glass, drawing Daniel's wandering attention to the yard.

"Bet you want to know what I see out there?"

"Not particularly," Rose said, breathing heavily onto the pane of glass, drawing a tic-tac-toe board in the condensation. "You want X's or O's."

"I'm unbeatable," Daniel warned as he slowly pulled himself upright.

"Hah! That's what they all say." Rose drew an O in the center box.

"Okay, that was a fluke," Daniel said when Rose drew a diagonal line through the boxes.

"Was that a challenge, Dr. Jackson?"

As Daniel began to draw a breath to steam up another panel, he began to cough and Rose gently pushed him out of the way. "Get a drink of water, weakling, and let the pro handle this."

* * *

Daniel sneezed just as Rose drew another line through yet another victory. "One more," he begged, blowing his nose on the tissue Rose plucked from her bathrobe pocket and handed to him.

She patted his arm. "No more. Take your loss like a man."

"You had an unfair advantage." Daniel sneezed again. "See, I'm sick and under the influence of medication which *obviously* is affecting my thought process. Or…" He turned narrowed eyes on Rose.

"Or what?"

"You're cheating."

"Daniel, you're a sore loser, do you know that? It's really not an endearing trait, honey." Rose pulled another tissue from her pocket and started to wipe away their game.

"Destroying the evidence?"

"Yes, I am, and while I perform my dance of victory and clean our germs off the window, go get a shirt from the dryer." Rose paused, rubbing Daniel's bicep. "You're freezing."

Daniel left the kitchen, grumbling under his breath.

* * *

Daniel needed one of those ankle bracelet alarms the police used when someone was under house arrest, Jack thought as he stomped out of the bedroom, or maybe, Jack painfully admitted, he needed not to let down his guard.

The door to the spare bedroom was closed, so thankfully, Daniel's nighttime wanderings hadn't disturbed his mother. The den was empty, Daniel's laptop was cool to the touch. The kitchen undisturbed and the doors to the backyard were locked.

Jack remembered those nights. The ones where Sara would fall into an exhausted sleep, Charlie sleeping the sleep that children do, and it would be him and his mother. Hours on the couch… one lost soul, one guiding light.

And it became like some convoluted time warp in the dimly lit living room as Jack gazed at the two figures on the couch. If he dared to close his eyes, there would be no doubt in his mind that he would be able to recall the weight of his mother's hand as it had rested in his hair. Or the grounding sound of her voice as she had rambled on into the early morning hours, talking herself hoarse as she shared stories with the fragile, returning POW, throwing him a lifeline to grasp when the nightmares and terrors haunted him.

But it wasn't him his mother was comforting, the house was different, there was no Charlie sleeping in any of the bedrooms, nor a wife warming his bed. Things were different, his life was different, hell *he* was different. But for one second he had believed otherwise.

Jack shook his head, the minutest of smiles tugging at his lips as Daniel's and his mother's snores took on a rhythm of comedic proportions.

* * *

At the moment, Daniel would sell his soul, and the soul of everyone who lived in this house and in the immediate vicinity, for the opportunity to step foot into a sarcophagus just one more time. By the way his body ached and his head hurt, he knew from experience the fever was back, the heat seemed to ebb and flow with his withdrawal symptoms. He grabbed Jack's pillow and shoved it tightly against his abdomen, hoping to counteract the gnawing that seemed to be eating him from the inside out.

There was an upside to all of this, Daniel realized as he swallowed convulsively against the rising tide of bile. His mind was perfectly clear. No more lethargic, disjointed thoughts, clouded by the innumerable daily pills Jack and Rose forced on him. For three days he had given the illusion of ingesting the pills, countless doses of meds hidden by slight of hand when Rose or Jack turned their backs.

Daniel was willing to struggle against the reawakening withdrawal symptoms in exchange for coherent thought and control. He used the corner of the pillowcase to sop up the sweat that pooled under his eyes, clamping his mouth shut to stifle a moan.

The house was quiet, Jack had left for the mountain over an hour ago and Daniel had heard him whisper a soft 'goodbye' rather than risk waking him with a kiss. The words without the action had been the routine since Daniel had come home and truthfully he hated being treated like a fragile, breakable object.

Daniel could hear Rose puttering in the kitchen but unlike Jack, Daniel knew from experience, she would drag his sorry ass out of the bed and force him to partake in daily life no matter how much he protested.

He got up slowly, unraveling hurting muscles, making an unsteady way into the bathroom, using the walls and furniture for support. He peed and then turned sideways, dumping the contents of the pocket of his sweatpants into the toilet, chuckling with perverse pleasure as the myriad of meds were flushed with his piss down the sewer.

The injuries on his back had healed to the point that Janet had given him the green light to shower and he was ever so grateful for that small amount of independence. He stepped under the warm water and slid the shower doors shut, moaning in almost sexual pleasure at the sensation of the warm water as it pelted his body. Daniel opened the tube of shower gel, ignoring his shaking hands as he doled out a dollop into his palm and went through the rituals of washing.

The mental numbness was slowly dissipating. He could feel again. His thoughts were his own. The only problem, Daniel acknowledged as he gazed into the mirror, was that he looked like shit. He cleaned the mist off the glass with a swipe of his hand and leaned closer, examining the bloodshot, sunken eyes.

First order of business was a shave, which he managed with the seldom-used electric razor. Task completed, he admitted to his reflection that externally, he did look a little better while internally, his mind was registering with crystal clarity a fever and a lack-of-sleep headache.

Tylenol, he would permit himself. Tylenol was okay, it didn't cloud your mind and hopefully it would take the edge off.

"Daniel?"

Guiltily, he dropped the Tylenol bottle into the sink and watched as the lid popped off and the contents spilled out. "Shit."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he sighed. Daniel righted the bottle. "I'll be out in a minute."

"No, no, take your time. I was throwing in a wash and just wanted to know if I could strip the bed."

"You don't have to do that. I'll be out, just give me a moment and I'll do it." Daniel plucked three fairly dry tablets from the sink and swallowed them, grimacing at their bitter taste. He snapped the lid on the now nearly empty bottle and ran the water to aid in dissolving the remaining pills. He grabbed his toothbrush and sparingly spread toothpaste along the bristles, knowing his stomach wouldn't be able to handle lots of that fresh, minty taste. "I'm just brushing my teeth and then I'll help. I have some towels here that can also go in."

* * *

"Here's your lunch—oh this is interesting," Rose said, sitting on the couch as she leaned forward to study the laptop screen. Daniel's back was to her, he was standing by the den windows, peering out into the bright sunshine. "I noticed the snow's starting to melt."

Daniel nodded in agreement, his head continuing to bob long after Rose received his affirmation. But then again, the constant motion was typical of Daniel these past few days. Unable to sit for more than a few minutes, playing round robin amongst the rooms and furniture, his attention span miniscule as he bounced from one thing to another. "Lunch," she reminded him gently.

She shook her head as she observed Daniel's nervous itching as he joined her on the couch, mentally grimacing at the imagined condition of the raw skin under the shirt. "Do you want some Benedryl for that?"

"What? Oh." Daniel dropped his hands and grabbed the sandwich off the plate. "No, actually it's become more of an annoying habit. Sorry."

"What are you sorry for? I'm just being a meddling old woman."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not what… meddling or old?"

To Rose's chagrin, Daniel took a bite of lunch and replaced the sandwich back on the plate resting on his knee. "Neither." The sandwich began to slide around on the plate, knocking chips to the floor as Daniel's leg began to bounce up and down. Rose diverted his attention back to the screen. "You never answered my question, what's this?"

"Oh, something I was working on before—let me show you."

Rose snatched the plate before it fell to the floor and placed it on the table.

"It's a program I've installed, I downloaded digital photographs of the garden before the first snowfall and see—"

Rose watched as Daniel, with a few strokes, morphed the barren garden onscreen into one overflowing with flowers and blooming rose bushes. "It's beautiful, Daniel."

"Someday," he answered, "not anytime soon, but someday." Daniel slammed the lid of the laptop shut, jumped up and left Rose in the den, stunned.

She found him pacing the living room and it wasn't until Rose blocked his path did he even look up to acknowledge her presence.

"What?"

"I don't know 'what', Daniel, why don't you tell me?"

Daniel circumvented Rose's body block and strode to the closet, flinging it open. He tugged at his coat, paying no attention when the hanger clattered to the floor. "I need to go out for a while."

Rose placed her body against the front door. "Go where?"

"Out," he said, shoving his arms into the sleeves, his fumbling fingers unable to perform the simple task of zipping the jacket. "Please move."

"Let me get my coat and we'll go for a drive."

"Drive?"

"Car, key, wheels—drive."

"Okay."

Rose heard the hesitation in his voice. "I'm just going to go get my coat and pocketbook."

"You're not going to call Jack or Janet, are you?"

"No, why would I?"

Daniel had moved his pacing to the foyer by the time Rose returned with her coat on, pocketbook over her shoulder, and Daniel's car keys swinging from her finger. "You know, I'm thinking this a good idea, I could go for some fresh air myself."

* * *

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, Rose thought as the salesperson, for the third time, righted the table that Daniel kept bumping into. Daniel huffed and moved to lean against the counter next to Rose, who counted to ten before she slapped her hand atop his impatiently tapping fingers as he waited for her order to be filled.

"How much longer?"

"Excuse me, you wanted to get out, we're out."

"This isn't…"

"Are these okay?" the saleswoman asked as she presented Rose with a mixture of wildflowers.

"I just want—" Rose turned, then contemplated the flowers behind the glass doors, "can you add two of those Gerber Daisies and eight yellow roses?"

"Are you sure about the roses, ma'am? They really don't fit the overall theme."

"Damn it," Daniel shouted, slapping the countertop, "she asked for roses, just give her the roses."

"There's no need to take that tone of voice with me, sir."

"She's the customer, what happened to the adage the customer is always right? Huh? Maybe I should speak to your manager."

"That's enough," Rose ordered, grabbing Daniel's bicep.

"No, Rose, you don't deserve to have your request questioned." He sidestepped her grip, knocking over the card display next to the register. "Where's the manager?"

"I *am* the manager," the saleswoman declared, "and honestly I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Leave? What the hell did we do?"

Rose would have liked to slap some sense into Daniel but settled for shoving the keys into his hand. "Go wait in the car."

* * *

"This isn't the way home."

"No, it's not and so I don't kill you or at the very least say something I'm going to regret, I'm going to warn you to just be quiet and enjoy the ride."

"She was rude," Daniel pounded the dashboard in frustration. "She had no right to question your choice."

"Can it!" Rose yelled.

"You're a grown woman, how could you permit—"

"Shut up!"

"Rose."

"No more," she whispered. "Okay? I got the flowers I wanted, the woman believed she was helping and let that be the end of this discussion, please? Don't make me regret getting you out of the house." Rose found a station on the car radio and turned it on loud enough to cover the scratching sound of Daniel's nails across the material of his jacket.

* * *

The walk had left Daniel more winded than Rose would have liked, but he had kept up with her as they maneuvered around the headstones.

"Hi," she said softly, berating the tears that even after all of these years, she still shed at the finality of Charlie's name engraved in stone. "Hi, angel." Rose stepped forward to caress the curve of the granite. Parents were never supposed to outlive their children and grandparents, and it was unimaginable for them to survive their grandchildren.

Singing softly, she opened up the flower arrangement and separated the wildflowers and daisies from the yellow roses. She stuffed the crumbled wrapping into her pocket and gently placed the wildflowers into the first stone vase on the left side of the headstone. One by one, Rose set the yellow roses into the second stone vase.

"Can we leave now?"

"Are you feeling alright?" Rose turned and examined Daniel.

"Fine. When I said I wanted to get out of the house, I didn't exactly expect to spend the afternoon in the cemetery. In the snow. Cold."

For the second time in less than two hours Rose could feel herself losing patience with a Daniel who seemed to be a stranger. "Go wait in the car," she again ordered.

Daniel ignored her and pointed to the two flower-filled vases. "Why do you bring flowers?"

"The wildflowers signify Paddy and me, I guess. I loved wildflowers and worked my butt off getting them to grow in my garden in Minnesota. The daisies… it's silly, I know, but Sara carried them the day she and Jack were married. Two, one for Jack, one for Sara."

"The roses?"

"One for each year Charlie lived. So when I visit, it's like a little piece of all of us are here with him." Rose cocked her head at Daniel. "Don't you ever bring flowers to your wife's grave?"

"My wife—she isn't—Sha're is buried out of the country." Daniel cleared his throat, coughed and pulled his jacket tighter. Rose didn't miss his ungloved hands slipping into the opposite sleeves of his jacket. "I don't get to visit her as often as I should."

Empathetically, Rose patted Daniel's arm. "I understand. Paddy is buried far from where I now live, but he loved to garden with me, so every flower that blooms, every seed I plant, is for him. How do you remember Sha…" Rose hated herself for faltering over the pronunciation of her name.

"Sha're," Daniel corrected. "Warm summer nights. Certain cooking odors. Shooting stars… too many things..." Daniel heaved a sigh, his whole upper body rising and falling with the breath. "Not enough things." Daniel swiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his jacket. "You do know I wish Charlie never died."

"I know that, mhuirnin."

"Even though it would mean Jack and I wouldn't be together, I still wish Charlie was here, you know that, don't you?" Daniel implored.

"I agree, a lot of things would have been different." Rose regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. "Oh God, Daniel, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Yes, you did." Daniel stepped away from Rose, the crunch of the snow under his feet seemed exceptionally loud in the cemetery and Rose had to fight the urge to shush Daniel. He squatted down by the roses and began to finger the separate petals, moving from one bloom to the other. "I don't belong here… there's no part of me in this family."

Rose walked up to Daniel and rested her hands on his shoulders. "No part of you in this family? You're wrong, so very wrong. I know in my heart that Jack wouldn't have survived without you. And I thank you for that and Charlie thanks you."

"Savior, huh?" Rose felt the warm moisture of tears as Daniel rubbed his cheek against her hand. "A lot of people would disagree with your assessment, beginning with the families of the people that died on my last mission."

"You remember?"

"I think I always remembered. It really wasn't a matter of remembering, it was a matter of believing those memories." Daniel stood up so suddenly that Rose was flung backwards and it was only the close proximity of the headstone that enabled her to stay upright. "We've gotta go," he barked, his fisted hands were pressed against his abdomen, bent forward. Obviously Daniel was suffering.

"You're in pain." Rose berated her blindness. "I'll call Janet." She fumbled, trying to remember where she stuck the cell phone Jack insisted she carry.

"No, please don't," Daniel begged, panting heavily.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because my self control is all I have and the drugs that Janet prescribed took that away."

"Oh god, when was the last time you took your medication?" she cried in horror when she realized what Daniel had just said.

Daniel hands fell to his side and he began breathing deeply, his inhalations and exhalations creating miniature clouds of condensation in the cold air. "I needed to remember," Daniel apologized, bowing his head.

"How long?"

"Long enough," was the terse reply.

"This isn't a game. Janet thought you needed those meds for a reason, Daniel."

"A few days."

Furtively, Rose searched her memories of the past days, angry and upset that she and Jack had noticed and chosen to ignore Daniel's agitation, inability to sleep, nervous twitching and itching. They had discussed it during dinner, over breakfast and the morning paper but always in hushed voices out of Daniel's range of hearing. They'd never approached Janet with their concerns. How stupid they had been? How uncaring their actions must have seemed to Daniel.

"I'm sorry," Rose stuttered.

Daniel cocked his head. "What are you sorry for?"

"I… Jack... we knew something was wrong but we—"

"Something was wrong? Oh." Daniel's index finger made a circular motion by his temple. "Dr. Jackson was a little nuts? Nah," he said with a dismissal flick of his wrist. "Jack's used to that, me being a little *off*… you know, been there, done that. I was kinda counting on Jack's—what's the word I'm looking for? Distraction?"

"Daniel."

He stepped away from her cautious approach. "No, I'm not going to appease whatever guilt you and Jack have over what you did or didn't do." He slapped his chest, the strength of the anger lost in the thickness of his winter coat. "This was my decision, taking matters into my own hands, taking back control was for *me*, not for you and certainly not for Jack."

"You're shaking like a leaf, you can barely stand upright and you're doubling over in pain, how the hell is that taking control?"

"I can remember."

Rose laughed sarcastically. "Remember what? How to be rude and nasty? Definitely can see you remembered that. Or maybe," Rose challenged, "you remembered how to be a bastard."

Daniel turned and began to stomp towards the car, but his balance was so compromised that he slipped and stumbled twice before Rose caught up to him, grabbing onto the material of his jacket. "Maybe you learned how to be a coward, and run. Is that it?"

"Let me go."

"No," she said, tugging at Daniel's jacket.

"Please. You have to let me go."

"Why, Daniel. Why do I have to let you go?" Rose loosened her grip ever so slightly though there was never any doubt in her mind that Daniel had the ability to leave her in the dust even in his weakened state. He wanted to tell her, that was obvious, but he was struggling with maintaining his dignity, sharing when the time was right for him, not when she demanded it.

"You're going to see me differently…"

"That's the biggest load of bullshit!" Rose countered, giving Daniel a little shove of disgust.

"I was raped."

* * *

He was furious at his inability to hold his tongue, horrified at the shocked look on her face. Afraid to face the irrevocable damage his confession had caused, so he had deserted Rose by Charlie's headstone and ran. Literally took off, slipping and sliding in the patches of snow and wet grass until shortness of breath and the fear of falling flat on his face made him stop.

Now, Daniel wove drunkenly in and out the headstones, the man who had guided his team out of tunnels, labyrinths and mazes had become totally disoriented, unable to locate either the street or his car. His fear had distorted his sense of direction until he was lost among the dead.

Daniel hadn't meant to tell Rose *that*. Maybe, just maybe, if she would have prodded and poked, he would have spoken about his role in the deaths of the people who had been with him, assuage his guilt, allowing her to be the priest to his confession. Accepting whatever act of contrition Rose would have deemed equitable.

But he had voiced the unthinkable. Mentioned the unmentionable. And there was no turning back and nowhere left to run or hide. He spied a wooden bench, its slats darkened with moisture from the melting snow, but quite honestly he didn't care, and sat.

Daniel had begun to imagine the quiet sedate life of the husband and wife whose monument the bench faced. Paula and Kevin Richardson, according to the dates etched in stone, had died within days of each other. Daniel began working on a whole scenario of the Richardson's life on Earth, and he was so intertwined in the happiness of how he imagined their lives had been, that he ignored Rose's frantic calling of his name until it cut through his daydreams like nails on a chalkboard.

"Over here, Rose," he called, amazed at how tired and strained his voice sounded.

Daniel was eternally grateful that Rose, unlike her son, had accepted Daniel's reappearance with nary a word of admonishment.

"Do you think they were happy?" Daniel asked, pointing towards the Richardson's gravesite.

Rose followed the line of Daniel's finger and read the inscription. "I don't know," she shrugged. "I'd like to believe that everyone in their life finds some degree of happiness. Or contentment."

"That's a nice sentiment." Daniel began to pick at the wooden slivers of the slats of the bench, dropping the on