Ninety-seven days.

It had been ninety-seven days since Daniel Jackson felt at home in his own skin. Ninety-seven days of burn treatments, surgeries, physical therapy, terrifying dreams, flashbacks, and pain. Ninety-seven days of praying that this nightmare would end. But it seemed to be picking up steam as it rolled along. The visions that pestered him in the first weeks now controlled him. A slight pinching of the nerves in his injured hand would throw him into a whirlpool of contradictory images and sounds. He'd find himself curled up on the floor, his hands covering his head, and he wouldn't have any idea how he had come to that position.

Ninety-seven days of friends calling him, peeking their heads in the PT room, all brightly asking how things were going, telling him how super he looked. But Daniel knew the truth of the matter. He could see it in their eyes. And he could see it in his bathroom mirror every time he stepped out of the shower. Memories as faint as spider webs would brush by him as he traced the lengths of the scars on his chest and abdomen. He could feel the light pressure of his fingertips on the scars, but the surface remained numb. While shaving he'd be particularly careful not to re-injure the scar that ran half the length of his jaw bone. And when he looked into his own eyes, eyes that had witnessed the attack, he barely recognized the person in the mirror. What he saw was a pail, emaciated older man with a scar over his left eye that fractured the balance of the face. He bought an electric razor and took to shaving in his kitchen.

Ninety-seven days of trying to convince himself that he was better, that he was healed, that he had put it behind him. Ninety-seven days of figuring out how to convince his friends that which he didn't believe. That he was fine.

*****

"Okay, Dr. Jackson, push my fingers toward me, please," Janet said, her hand pressed against Daniel's.

Daniel did as he was told, a slight grimace on his face.

"Very good. Now I'm going to push yours. Tell me if there is any pain." Janet pressed Daniel's fingers back, watching his face as she did for signs of discomfort. "Well, I'm very pleased with your progress. I think I can sign-off on some light duty. How does that sound to you?" she said with a smile.

Daniel clenched his fist a number of times before agreeing with her assessment.

"How's our star patient?" Jack asked as he sauntered into the infirmary.

"Very well, Colonel. I think you can have him back on your team, at least for light-duty," Janet told him. Jack raised his eye brows and looked to Daniel. Daniel did not return his look.

"But no off-world fun and games, I'm guessing?" asked Jack.

"Exactly. Not for a while anyhow. But with the way his injuries are progressing, I don't see why that can't be a goal in the next few weeks."

"Daniel? I'd love to hear your learned opinion on the matter," Jack said.

"Yeah, I mean, why wouldn't..." Daniel looked up over his glasses. He pursed his lips. "Yeah."

"Well, I think that just about covers it," stated Jack, rubbing his hands together. "Eloquent, as usual."

"You'll tell me if anything changes, right?" Janet asked Daniel. He nodded in compliance. "Good. Then you're free to go." She rubbed his arm and left his bedside.

Daniel hopped off the bed and began to tuck in his shirt.

"Daniel, did you maybe leave some things out when you were talking to the Doc?" Jack asked.

Daniel hesitated in his dressing. "I don't believe so, no," he answered, resuming his task.

"You did tell her about your flashbacks, right?"

"I don't remember," Daniel lied, picking nervously at the raw skin of his thumb.

"Look, you're about to strike bone there. Talk to me," Jack cajoled.

"There's nothing to talk about," Daniel refuted, dabbing at the now bleeding spot on his thumb with a tissue.

"Obviously there's something you're not telling me or Janet. You always pick at your thumb when you are under stress. Talk to me, Daniel," Jack told him.

"I may not...I could have...All right, yes,...or no, as the case may be," Jack gesticulated that Daniel should get to the point. "I left out some things."

"Like?..."

"Look, Jack, I'm fine, and I need you to give me some room. Please," Daniel tersely said, glancing at Jack over his glasses.

"Sorry. Not gonna happen," Jack told him.

"Jack, I'm asking as a friend. Please, I would really appreciate it if you'd back off." Daniel held Jack in a steely gaze.

"The truth is I don't think you're ready to come back to work so soon."

"Do I need for you to sign-off on me as well? Because I think you're spreading yourself fairly thin here, Jack, trying to be all things for me- protector, doctor, CO,..."

"I'll be whatever is necessary."

"But don't you see, that's the problem, Jack," Daniel said. Jack shrugged his shoulder asking for clarification. "Maybe I rely on you too much to be all those things. To do and be whatever is necessary."

"Daniel, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the lesson I think I'm supposed to be learning from this...thing."

"Which is?"

"I rely on you too much. I rely on you to keep me out of trouble, to save me when I do get in trouble, to return me in one piece after I've made trouble. I think I just need to be a little more responsible for myself," Daniel told him pulling on his jacket. "What other reason is there for me hearing your name over and over in my ...mind?" Jack stared at him incredulously. "When I'm having ..." Daniel looked suspiciously around the room. "...a memory of...it, I hear myself screaming your name..."

"Gees, Daniel, this is what..."

"...and all I can figure out is obviously I was trying to call to you, trying to get you to come to my aid. Again." He began to leave the room.

Jack grabbed him by the arm, forcing Daniel to stop and finish what he was saying.

"I shouldn't automatically assume you're watching out for me, Jack."

"But I am. That's my job."

"But I shouldn't take it for granted. And apparently on P5X-729, I did. So that's the lesson I think I need to learn here. That I can't let my guard down. That the only one who can save me is...me."

"You've pulled my hindquarters out of a few fires."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't rely on that either."

"Daniel, you're talking about the foundation on which a team is built. Are you asking me to...What are you asking me?" Jack asked, shaking his head.

"For now, I'm asking you to let it go. Give me some room to breathe, Jack. I need to get the sound of your name out of my head." And with that, Daniel left the infirmary.

Jack remained with one thought running through his mind. He couldn't, he wouldn't be able to follow Daniel's request. Especially now.

He walked to Janet's office. He wanted to find out exactly what Daniel had told her.

"Doc, you got a minute?" he asked, peeking his head in the door.

Janet looked up from her desk. "Sure," responded Janet, closing a chart.

Jack took the seat opposite her. "Are you sure-- and listen to me say how much I respect your judgment here-- but are you sure Daniel is ready to come back?"

"He's doing remarkably well, Colonel," she told him.

"He seems, I don't know...Well, for starters, he seems thin to me."

"He is. But once his activity level increases, his appetite should follow suit. I'll keep an eye on his weight, but that's pretty normal for a patient who has been through a trauma like Daniel's."

"Okay," Jack started, ready to charge into his next concern. "What did he tell you about flashbacks?"

"He said he hasn't had any in quite a while," Janet responded, becoming agitated.

"And you believe him?"

"Look, Colonel, we're starting to cross that line of doctor-patient confidentiality, but to answer your question, yes, I do believe him," Janet answered with a touch of irate displeasure. "I think he's finally on the up-swing."

"But he still doesn't remember the attack," Jack reminded her.

"And maybe he never will. It is my opinion that he was unconscious during it. It seems unlikely that he could have sustained those injuries and not been knocked unconscious."

Jack mulled over the thought in his head. "I'll give you that. But, I don't know, Janet. I don't think he's ready to come back."

"Colonel, Daniel is fine. And I believe that the sooner he gets back up on that horse, the better he's going to be," Janet told him.

"Okay. You're the doctor. You know me. I go by whatever you tell me. I'm nothing if not trusting," Jack sarcastically added, rising from his chair.

Janet smirked knowing what a load she had just been handed. "Also patient and understanding," Janet quipped.

"Obviously patient and understanding," Jack offered leaving the office. "As well as thoughtful, courteous, prepared, kind, don't forget sensitive..."

Janet smiled as the voice trailed off down the corridor of the SGC.

*****.

Life back at the SGC was a blur to Daniel. Piles of reports screamed for his attention. Crates of artifacts seemed to be constantly under-foot. Co-workers and scientists from other SG teams breezed in and out of his office informing him of things his mind couldn't comprehend. He'd find himself berating Sam and Teal'c for bringing half-completed reports from sites where they had been. They tried to be understanding with him, but patience was waning on both sides of the divide. People were starting to talk, he was sure. And the last thing he wanted was for Janet to flag him for follow-up treatment-- translation: Dr. MacKenzie and his gang of GoodHumor men. He spent long hours in his office attempting to work, but finding his concentration was lacking at best. He was aware of Jack's watchful eyes on him constantly, never prying, but watching him. Daniel knew he had better begin to show how well he was dealing with his return to work, even if it were as far from the truth as his ability to comprehend what had transpired on 729.

"Daniel Jackson, we are about to adjourn for lunch. Please join us," Teal'c stated from the door of Daniel's office.

Daniel's head shot up, startled by the deep voice. He had been staring at his computer screen, the screensaver having long-past activated.

"I am sorry, Daniel Jackson. I did not mean to frighten you."

"No, that's all right, Teal'c. I was just..." Daniel noticed, for the first time, the dancing hieroglyphics of his screen-saver. "Lunch, did you say?"

Teal'c bowed his head.

Daniel looked around the room searching for the strength to join his friends. This would be a test for him, entering the canteen, sitting with his team members, but he knew he had better rise to the occasion. "Sure. Let's go." He grabbed his jacket on his way out the door.

"I am very pleased you will be joining us, Daniel Jackson. It has been a long time since we were all able to share a meal together," said Teal'c as Daniel shut the door to his office.

"Yeah, yeah, it has." He straightened the collar of his jacket.

"Your recovery has been very difficult, my friend."

"Yes, I suppose it has."

"Is there anything I can assist you with to..."

"No! I'm fine. Really. Thank you."

"Then I am thankful as well." The two men walked quietly down the hall to the canteen.

Daniel began to breathe more heavily as they reached to doors to the large, open room.

Teal'c placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you not well, Daniel?"

Daniel stared through the windows of the door. "I'm fine," he said through a tight voice. He couldn't turn back now, run to his office, hide from the panic that filled him whenever he approached large assemblages of people. He needed, wanted to be stronger than that, so he forced himself to push open the door.

Distorted images of people and trays flew by him, garbled speech patterns butted up against his ears. He had some realization that there were words of good-tidings for his return to the SGC. Through the murky scene, Daniel was able to pick out Jack and Sam's faces. He focused hard on them.

With sweating, shaking hands, Daniel pulled a seat out from the table and carefully sat down, his rapidly pumping heart pounding against the inside of his chest.

Sam shot a look at Jack, concerned about the pallor of Daniel's skin.

"Daniel, can I get you some water?" she asked.

He nodded, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

Sam quickly obtained a glass of water for him and returned to the table.

Jack remained motionless, his elbows resting on the table, his lips pressed against his thumbs, watching Daniel with concern.

"Here, Daniel," Sam said, pushing the glass in front of Daniel. She rubbed his back, trying to calm him.

Daniel picked up the glass and with trembling hands drank the contents of it.

Teal'c glanced at Jack whose only comment was a raised brow.

"Thanks, Sam. That helped," Daniel told her, holding the glass with both hands, letting the cool glass help to restore his sense of calm.

"What just happened, Daniel?" a concerned Sam asked.

Daniel glanced up at Sam, then Jack, not wanting to dwell on the experience.

Jack knew precisely what he was going through, but he wanted Daniel to be the one to say the words. "Yes, Daniel. What did just happen?" Come on, Danny. Say it. Let us help you.

Daniel stared belligerently at Jack, pulled his lip tightly across his teeth.

"Nothing."

An airman walking behind Daniel caught his foot on a leg of a chair and tripped, causing his tray to slam to the floor.

Daniel threw his hands to his face. He began to mewl and whimper.

"Jack?!" Daniel cried.

Jack almost up-ended the table trying to reach Daniel before the flashback devoured him. With lightening speed, Jack ushered Daniel out of the canteen and into a secluded part of the hall. He steadied his friend against a wall, holding him up-right as the flashback gained control over Daniel's body.

"Daniel, come on, open your eyes. It's me, Jack," he said, trying to penetrate the power of the memory. "You're on base, Daniel. No one's going to hurt you here. Open your eyes."

Daniel did as he was told.

Jack put his hands on Daniel's face. "Thatta boy."

Daniel grabbed Jack's wrists, the effects of the flashback coursing through his veins. Daniel blinked a few times and returned to the reality before him: his best-friend staring at him, and Daniel having had no idea how they had come to this place.

"You want to tell me about it?" Jack asked.

"No," he answered quietly, pulling Jack's hands away from him.

"You need to talk about it, Danny," Jack reminded him.

Daniel glared at Jack and strode away.

Jack felt his gut knotting. He was losing Daniel to those darkest recesses of the soul that Jack had navigated himself so often. He wouldn't let Daniel disappear, he vowed. He wouldn't leave him behind again. He followed Daniel back to his office where he entered without asking Daniel's permission.

"Daniel, we need to talk about what happened back there," Jack cautiously informed Daniel.

Daniel sat fidgeting with his video recorder. "Yeah? Why?"

"Because I'm concerned about you?" Jack sat heavily in the chair next to Daniel's desk. "I'm concerned you're not back yet from 729." Jack waited for a reply.

Daniel never looked up, he just continued to futz with his camera. "Are you asking as my friend or as my team leader?"

"Your choice."

"Well, team leader, I'm fine." He said it emphatically, yet emotionless.

"Okay, how about as your friend?"

Daniel shook his head and sneered. "Well, pal, friend, buddy...I'm fine."

"Daniel, I don't think you are."

"Well, I don't see how it's any of your business, Jack," Daniel countered, enunciating Jack's name contemptuously.

"It's my business when you hear my name in your flashbacks." Daniel glared at him. "Daniel, you need to talk about this."

"I don't think I need to talk to anyone." he lied, cleaning the lens of the camera.

"Yes, you do, Daniel." Jack reached out and put his hand on the camera. "Talk to me."

"Why should I talk to you?"

"Because I know what it's like to be jammed up inside. I've been right where you are now."

Suddenly Daniel sat up straight and looked Jack squarely in the eye. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. You tell me what happened to you in Iraq, and I'll tell you what happened to me on P5X-729. Hmm?" he challenged Jack with cold, lifeless eyes.

Jack recoiled. "Daniel, this isn't about me."

"Sure it is! Because how do you expect me to share my dirty little secrets with you if you can't do the same with me?" He stared at Jack. "Come on, friend, tell me how it felt to watch the blood drain from your son's chest cavity."

"That's enough, Daniel." Jack told him quietly, biting back at the anger that was building. He knew what Daniel's game was, and he wasn't about to become a willing participant.

"Are you sure? Tell me what it's like to have everyone take pity on you, pat you on the back and say, 'Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. It wasn't your fault.' But you know, Jack, maybe it is..." Daniel squinted his bloodshot eyes accusatorily.

Jack stared back, refusing to be sucked in.

"Let's share our stories of waking up screaming, calling out the names of our wives. Mine's dead. Where's yours? Oh, that's right. She left you after you killed your son."

"Are you finished?"

"You know, that wasn't fair, was it? She left you because you wouldn't open up to her. Because you wouldn't, what was it, talk to her?"

"We're done here," Jack stated, standing up. He'd had enough. What Daniel was saying was true, and even though it infuriated him that he'd use his knowledge of Jack's tortured past against him, he knew that in his misguided way, Daniel was right. He couldn't help him. How could he? He was never able to help himself.

"That's right. We are. Of course I could have told you that the minute you walked in." Daniel told him bitingly, picking up his coffee mug.

Jack stood next to him, a bitter combination of self-loathing, compassion and anger coursed through him. He stepped to Daniel's side on his way to the door. Jack knew this stage of recovery all too well. Too many times after Iraq, Jack had alienated those around him, while at the same time his heart screamed for someone to just hear the madness going on inside. He wanted someone to shake him out of his stupor, but knew the first person who tried would have met with the enormous rage building inside. The yin and yang of recovery- repel and yield.

Except Jack never learned to yield. He hoped that Daniel would be strong enough and smart enough to learn what he couldn't.

To that end he lay his hand sympathetically on Daniel's shoulder. "You have my number," he reminded his friend and summarily left Daniel's office.

"I've got your number, Jack." Daniel emptied the mug of its contents and put it down on the table. He picked it back up. Felt the weight of it. Fired it against the wall.

From outside Daniel's office, Jack heard the explosion. He didn't need to go back in. He had a pretty good idea what it was.

He walked sadly to Dr. Frasier's office. Airmen passed him in the halls, but he was oblivious of their presence. When he arrived at her office, he put a hand on each side of the door frame and forced the bitterness of the conversation out of his mind. He resigned himself to the fact that Daniel needed more than he or Sam or Teal'c or even Janet could offer. Even so, it felt like betrayal to Jack. But he had no other choice.

He knocked on the door. The voice inside beckoned him to enter. Jack slowly made his way into the room. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at Janet.

"Colonel, something I can do for you?" Janet asked, laying down her pen.

Jack shut the door to her office and sat in the chair across the desk from her. "It's about Daniel."

"I could have guessed."

"He's...I'm losing him."

Janet understood the sorrow in his voice. They had all hoped that Daniel would be able to pull out of this on his own, or at least with their help. Obviously that wasn't going to happen.

"I know you signed-off on him a few weeks ago, but I think things are getting worse for him. He's angry, he's having flashbacks, he's not eating. All in all, he's doing one hell of an impression of me...at certain times in my life. And it scares me," Jack admitted.

"I'm sure it does," she said sympathetically.

"Janet, I know you're his doctor, but I'm telling you he's not fine, and you need to do something right now, before this goes any further," he said bitterly.

"Oh, dear," Janet uttered, dropping her chin into her hands. "I know you're right. I think I desperately wanted to believe he was fine. I should have known he wasn't well. I guess I did know, but I let my personal feelings get in the way of my better judgment." She lowered her head apologetically. "It's just so text book, but I wanted to believe that somehow Daniel was smarter than that, and could rise above it all."

Jack nodded his head in agreement. "So what do we do?"

"We talk to General Hammond and tell him what's going on. It's my duty to keep him informed about all medical issues. We press the point and get Daniel some help. I have a number of a specialist out of the Academy who I'll call." Janet returned to her desk and began searching through her Palm Pilot for the name and number. "Here. Dr. Reynolds."

"I hate doing this, Janet," Jack stated, the look of sadness returning to his eyes.

"I do, too," she agreed.

Jack began to leave the office.

"But, Jack?"

He turned to her.

"You were right to come to me. He needs more than we can offer."

Jack nodded.

"I think someone should have made the same call for you some 12 years ago," Janet gently added, knowing the field full of emotional landmines she had just ventured into.

Jack drew in the corners of his eyes. "Probably." And Jack quietly left Janet's office.

*****

Daniel was pulling away. He couldn't stand the looks of concern, the gestures of pity that seemed to buffet him from every direction. Worse yet was the increase in the number of flashbacks he was having. They snuck up on him like a thug with a knife, often driving him to his knees in panic. He didn't understand them, nor could he control them. He'd sit terrified in his living room, dreading the moment that he'd fall asleep allowing the visions to use his subconscious as their personal battlefield.

He'd gone through all the sleeping pills that Dr. Fraiser had prescribed to him, and he was too afraid to ask for more. She wasn't very pleased the last time. He had had to sit through the lecture on coming to terms with his "issues" in order to get her to refill the scrip. For the first time he felt like he understood Jack and his drinking.

It wouldn't be the first time that Daniel dragged himself into work on less than two hours sleep.

Daniel walked into the briefing room cautiously. They were all there waiting for him, sitting around the bi-colored table, hands in various positions of rest. He felt his ire raising.

"Well, how nice. Apparently I wasn't made aware of the correct time." he said to them through clenched teeth.

"Dr. Jackson, why don't you have a seat," offered General Hammond, motioning for Daniel to take his normal place at the table.

"Uh, no, I think I'll stand," he replied eyeing each one of the seated members. "What's this about?"

"SG1 is at a crossroad, and I need to be able to report to Washington whether you or a replacement archeologist will be assigned to the team. As you know, we have some very important missions on the books for which your level of expertise is required. However, I will not send anyone through that gate who isn't 100%. I asked your team members and Dr. Fraiser to report on your status," General Hammond told him, a picture of military stoicism.

"And?" Daniel asked bitterly.

"I'm sorry, son, but at this time I cannot in good conscience send you back out."

Daniel threw his head back and laughed. "This is great. Fine. Do you people know what I've been through?" he challenged them acerbically.

"Do you?" Jack asked him.

"What's that supposed to mean, Jack?" Daniel questioned him, his face haggard from the weeks on end of sleep-deprivation.

"It is apparent that you are not well rested, Daniel Jackson, and actions can be compromised when the mind is not fully engaged." Teal'c offered.

"I'm fine," Daniel told them all.

"No, Daniel, you're not," Jack piped in. "You're suffering from flashbacks and insomnia."

"Dr. Jackson, I can't give you the permission to go out and put yourself in harms way," Janet added.

Daniel stared at her, washed in betrayal. "You told me yourself that I was well!" he spat at her.

"I told you your recovery had been remarkable, and that I was extremely pleased with the level of healing in your body," she corrected him, adopting a clinical disposition.

"Which means I'm ready to go off-world" Daniel interjected, angrily.

"No, you're not." Jack added, dispassionately.

"Not enough military bravado for you, Jack? Is that what you're saying?" Daniel glared at him.

Jack glared back. "If that's what it takes to keep you home, yes."

"You duplicitous bastard."

"Spell that for me, would ya?"

"Gentlemen," interrupted Hammond.

Daniel dropped his head and rubbed his face with his fingers. "Okay, fine. Just remember none of you would be here without me," he told them angrily.

Sam tried to assuage him. "Daniel, we're..."

"None of you!" he growled, enunciating each word venomously. "You can all go to hell!" he told them and stormed out of the room.

There was a forlorn silence among them. It was never pleasant to reassign a team, especially when the team member was Daniel. But a mission was a mission, and no bonds of friendship could override the fact that he was a time bomb waiting to explode. None of them was willing to have it detonate off-world.

"I thought that went well," Jack said sarcastically.

"General, I'm going to insist he see a Posttraumatic Stress Disorder specialist before I'll sign-off on him," Janet told the general.

"I agree. You'll set up the appointment, Doctor?" General Hammond inquired.

"I will."

"He's not going to like this," Sam said.

"For his own good, he doesn't have a choice," Jack stated.

Sam stared at him incredulously. "I...I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Sam said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Sam, you must realize that Daniel isn't well," Janet asked sympathetic to Sam's incredulity.

"Yeah...No! I mean, have any of us really tried to talk to him?" She looked around the room.

"Yes, Major, we have," General Hammond told her. "And Dr. Fraiser, Colonel O'Neill and I have decided that now is the time for Dr. Jackson to get more help than we can offer him here."

"Whoa, so what you're saying is he's a basket case, and, and, and, you're just going to give up on him?"

"No, Major, and I don't appreciate the connotation," Janet answered her coldly.

"Well, at least let me tell him. I mean, don't just send him a memo telling him when and where he's supposed to be."

"Major Carter, we would do nothing of the sort," Janet reminded her. "But if you'd like to make the initial contact, that would be fine." Sam pushed herself out her seat.

"And then we'll send him a memo," Jack added caustically.

Sam glared at him for his utter lack of compassion. Jack returned her glare with added insouciance.

"Permission to be excused, sir?" she asked bitterly of General Hammond.

"By all means, Major," General Hammond said.

Sam turned hastily from the room and quickly made her way to Daniel's office. When she reached the door, she tentativley knocked. The door opened of its own accord.

"Daniel? Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

Daniel stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of his office. "If you've come to tell me they're sending me to see MacKenzie, I already figured that one out," Daniel said with a sullen grimace. "It's so typical of them."

"They're...we're just worried about you, Daniel. We only want to help," Sam reminded him.

"Did you ever think that maybe I'm just tired? That maybe I just am a little overwhelmed with all the work I have to do? Did that ever occur to any of you?" Daniel grilled Sam, turning on his heels.

"Yes, it did."

"Because that's all it is. I'm just tired. Tired of the nightmares, tired of the not knowing what the hell happened to me, and most of all, tired of the pity in your eyes," Daniel told her angrily.

Sam involuntarily recoiled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you! Every time you look at me I can see how sorry you feel for me. When I look into your eyes I can see how I'm...I'm falling apart. And I'm tired of feeling that way." Daniel's voice shook. He shuffled a pile of papers absent-mindedly.

"I didn't know."

"Well, now you do." Daniel wrapped his arms around his chest. "I'm just tired of it all, Sam. It just seems like every time I turn around I get the snot beat out of me. And then, on top of that, I have to prove that I'm tough enough to go back out there just to have the snot beat out of me again." Sam lowered her eyes. "So, fine, send me to see MacKenzie..."

"It wouldn't be MacKenzie..."

"...then whoever. I'll go and say what they want me to say, and then maybe you'll all be satisfied. And then maybe you'll all just leave me the hell alone."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Daniel," Sam told him, a lump in her throat.

"I am too, Sam."

"I'll have Janet call you with the details."

"Fine," Daniel answered.

Sam stood still, trying to find words for the aching sadness she felt, but could find nothing to fill the void. "I'll be on base all week if you need anything," she said as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "Call me if you want to talk or whatever."

"You don't get it, Sam," he said glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. "I don't want to talk at all, but none of you are listening to me." Daniel turned to ostensibly take a book down from the shelf. "Now, if you wouldn't mind...I have a lot of work to do."

Sam hesitated before leaving his office. Once in the corridor she stopped to regain her composure. Janet was heading her direction. She turned from the doctor, pressed her thumbs into the corners of her eyes, and then slightly turned back to her.

"Hey," Sam uttered, trying not to show Janet how poorly her talk with Daniel had gone.

"Hey, to you, too. Were you able to discuss the situation with Daniel?" Janet asked continuing down the hall with Sam.

"Uh, yeah. He wants you to give him the information," Sam stopped short, leaned up against the wall and combed her fingers through her hair. "God, Janet, I just wanted to believe he was doing better."

"We all did, Sam. The residual effects of the trauma are as insidious as the attack itself, and the worst part is they're harder to see."

"But why now? Why didn't he have these symptoms after Sha're died? Or after any number of other times he ended up in the infirmary?" Sam asked.

"There is a school of thought that states childhood traumas remain in stasis and aren't fully resolved until something in adulthood brings them to the fore. Jack told me that Daniel hears himself calling for Jack in his memory of the attack. Perhaps the feeling of abandonment he felt over the loss of his parents resurfaced when he felt the same abandonment on 729."

"That wasn't Jack's fault," Sam reminded Janet.
"I know that, Sam. But we're talking about the subconscious here, not the rational state of consciousness," Janet explained.

"I guess," Sam sighed. Janet took her by the arm and continued down the corridor. "It's just so difficult."

"That's because you care for him, and you want what's best for him. Well, this is what's best, Sam."

Sam nodded.

"I'm on my way to the canteen to get a bagel. Want to join me?"

"Sure," Sam agreed. The two women walked to the canteen, trying to hold conversations about other subjects, but in their hearts, it was Daniel whom they held.

******

Daniel entered the room cautiously. He fought off the urge to turn around and miss the appointment, but he knew that word would get back to Janet and General Hammond, and the ensuing questions would be worse. After weighing his options, a nice talk with a PTSD specialist seemed a lot less taxing.

The office was sparse. A couple chairs, a sink, a desk strewn with paper. Daniel looked around the room trying to find where the specialist could be hiding.

"Hello?" he called out.

A head popped up from behind the desk. "Oh, hi. You must be Dr. Jackson. Come on in." She stood up, a scramble of papers clutched tightly to her chest. She looked at her desk, at her credenza, at the floor next to her before deciding to dump the pile on top of her desk. She quickly contained the avalanche of papers threatening to topple onto the floor. She held her hands in place, willing the papers to stay. When she was satisfied that they weren't going anywhere, she walked over to Daniel and thrust her hand forward.

"I'm Dr. Reynolds." She had green eyes, chestnut hair, and the insignia that said she was a major in the United States Marine Corp.

Daniel perfunctorily took her hand.

"Have a seat while I try to find your file..."

Daniel did as he was told.

Finally, after a few moments transferring part of the pile to the back credenza, Dr. Reynolds came up with Daniel's file. She sat down opposite Daniel and opened it up. "Okay...Okay...Archeologist-slash-linguist?" she questioned looking over the file at Daniel. Daniel nodded. "Piacere di conoscerla, il dottore Jackson."

Daniel squinted his eyes and looked askance at her. "Um, yeah, pleasure to meet you, too," he responded as she continued to flip through his file.

Suddenly she looked up at him startled.

Daniel returned her look of trepidation.

"Hey, can I get you some coffee? Tea?" the doctor asked Daniel.

Daniel relaxed and politely refused the offer. If Daniel had been dubious before about seeing a specialist, he was now all together sure that only bad could come out of his association with this lunatic.

She continued to peruse his file. She glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. "How'd you hurt your head?"

Daniel touched the band aid that covered the scrape. "Oh, I hit it on the cupboard door," he lied.

She nodded and returned to the file.

"Okay...Okay...Yeah, I remember you now," she said as she closed the file and looked calmly at Daniel.

He seriously doubted if she could possibly know him at all. He could feel the resentment building that she had his personal file, that he had been given an ultimatum, that he couldn't go off-world again until he resolved his "issues," as Dr. Frasier was so fond of saying.

"So, what's going on?" she asked lightly.

Daniel decided he wasn't going to make this easy. After all he held a PhD, skilled at rhetoric. There was nothing she would be able to get out of him that he didn't want to divulge. "Not much. You?" he asked mockingly.

The comment didn't faze her. In fact, it seemed to make her formulate an answer. "Ya know, I'm really packed these days," she said as she sat back comfortably in her chair and crossed her legs. "In two weeks I've got to give a speech at my niece's school. Career Day. And I really should be putting in my garden soon. Last year I waited too long. So, I have a lot on my plate. Thanks for asking."

"Oh, you're welcome," Daniel replied to her. Good, he thought, talk about yourself. Less time for me to have to talk. "So, what kind of things are you putting in this year?"

She giggled and waved off his question. "You don't want to hear about that. We're here for you, not to talk about me. Good try, though!" she told him. "Look, I want you to understand how I work, especially in cases like yours when getting you back on active duty is crucial. I work as fast and as dirty as you'll allow. We could sit here and idly chat for your first couple sessions, or I could tell you what I know about you, followed by what I presume to know. After that, you can correct any errors. You game?" she asked brightly.

Daniel shrugged his shoulders, agreeing to let her hang herself on her own rope.

"Okay, approximately four months ago, while leaving a mission, you were abducted by an unknown assailant who brutally attacked you. Five hours later, after being left behind, your team was able to find you in a burnt out field, barely clothed much less alive. You spent five-weeks in the infirmary recovering from multiple lacerations, fractures, burns and internal bruising. For the first few weeks you had little or no recollection of the attack. Slowly and with greater frequency memories have been bubbling up causing you to have moments of dissociation, terror, panic and the anxiety of wondering when the next memory will be triggered. You've become an insomniac, you've alienated your co-workers and friends. You can't stand to dress or undress in a lit room, and never in front of anyone else. You have heard 'you're so lucky to be alive' about ten-times too many, and you not sure if it's true anyhow. How'm I doing so far?" she asked a captivated Daniel.

He blinked in disbelief. Had she really gleaned all that in his file? "Um...uh...pretty well," he managed to tell her.

"Good. You're angry that this is still controlling your life, and in fact is becoming the focus of your life. You have trouble concentrating. Sudden noises shake your very soul. In order to gain some control you've experimented with self-medication. But you're a smart guy, and you know that the SGC has a sticky little policy on drug testing. So, you've been considering other forms of release, such as purging or self-injury."

Daniel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Dr. Reynolds continued to stare at him dispassionately. "And up until five minutes ago, you believed there was nothing I could tell you that you couldn't figure out on your own by surfing the web."

Daniel stared at her, nonplussed.

"How'd I do?"

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Now, you want to tell me how you hurt your head?"

"Not yet," he told her tentatively, but he sensed that soon he would, that he could.

"Fair enough. What would you like me to call you? Dr. Jackson? Daniel? Dan?"

Daniel swallowed hard, his mind swirling with the knowledge that she understood him more than he knew. "Um...D...D...Daniel's fine."

"Okay, Daniel. There are a couple different directions we could go here. The first is behavior therapy. I'm going to teach you some relaxation techniques so you can begin to gain an upper hand over the intrusive memories. The next is medication. I want you to start taking anti-depressants. Certainly you recognize that you're not the happy-go-lucky archeologist that you were four-months ago," she stated. Daniel acquiesced. "Anti-depressants are very helpful in treating PTSD, especially the flashbacks. We'll get you started on those ASAP. It takes a while for them to build up effective levels in your blood stream, but hey! Once begun, half done." She wrote a note to herself in his file. "Generally I advise my clients to get involved in a peer-counseling group, but I don't think you're going to find many for victims of interstellar travel." She gave him a soft smile. "Why don't I let you talk now." She sat back and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt.

"I'm not sure what I should say."

"How are you feeling, physically?"

"I'm okay. I guess. I have some residual pain in my hands, but otherwise I guess I'm okay."

"When you have twinges and aches, do you experience flashbacks?"

"I'm not sure," he said in avoidance.

"Okay. It's very common for intrusions to occur while the body is healing. As the nerve endings reconnect there's a jolt, almost electrical shock that can bring to fore flashes of the attack."

Daniel situated an elbow on the arm of the chair and cradled the side of his face in his hand.

"Anything like that going on for you?"

"Um, I don't know," he lied.

"Okay, how about other triggers for flashbacks? What was going on the last time you had one?"

"I don't... I don't..."

"Take your time, " she told him as he reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

The last flashback he had had was after breakfast, and it sent him cowering to the ground covering his head in protection from the phantom attackers.

"I don't remember," he told her.

She sat silently, waiting for him to add anything to his story or change it.

Daniel glanced up at her suddenly aware of the silence. He wondered if he had missed a question in the few moments that he was recalling the morning flashback. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember what was happening, or you don't remember having a flashback?"

Daniel thought carefully about what answer he wanted to give, which answer would bring the least amount of pain. Every move, every thought, every word he chose these days seemed to be complicated. The wrong choice and he could be thrown helplessly into a whirlwind of chaotic memory. "I'm not sure."

"Let's back up. What do you remember about the attack?"

Daniel was tired of recounting his story. He rolled his eyes and began, again. "I was leaving P5X-729, about ready to step through the Stargate when something pulled me back." Daniel stopped, looked around the room in a daze. In an instant he felt the ripping of flesh on his chest and arms. He screwed his eyes shut tight, tore off his glasses and ground his palms into his forehead. "Don't you have my report on it somewhere in that damn file?"

"I do. But I'd like to hear it from you," she said calmly.

"Look, it never changes!" he insisted, his eyes wild with pain. "I tried leaving. I was pulled back. I remember rolling. Things were flying all around me. I couldn't see anything or anyone. And then Jack and Sam were by my side. They picked me up, and we were outta there." Daniel felt his head pounding.

"There was no mention of things flying around you in your report," Dr. Reynolds told him quietly.

Daniel's eyes glazed over.

"There wasn't?" Daniel asked.

"Tell me about the memory."

"It's difficult, because it's just an image that keeps cycling in front of me, you know?" He tore at the rough skin on his thumb. "It was like being in a wind storm or tornado, and all this debris was swirling around me, hitting me. But...there was no wind." Confusion and terror wracked his features. "What the hell was it?"

"You tell me. When you close your eyes, what kind of things can you see?"

"I don't know."

"Close your eyes."

"No."

Dr. Reynolds sat forward in her chair, crossing her arms over her knee. "A couple of seconds ago, you had a flashback that was more than just imagery. It was the abduction."

"Uh, yeah. I think. Some of it, anyhow. In Technicolor."

"You chose not to relive it."

"I didn't choose to live it the first time. Why do I want to relive it?"

"Daniel, take my advice. If you try to block one more memory, you're going to be taking a 50 cent cab ride to jump off a very high bridge. Allowing painful memories to surface is excruciating, I know. But trying to suppress them is much harder."

Daniel fixed his eyes on her, wanting to trust her, wanting to exorcise the madness of the memory. The terror of the memory disallowed any feeling of safety.

"I'm not one of your friends that you have to protect. And I'm not your CO trying to figure out if you're ready for field work. I'm here to assist you in your recovery. You've allowed your body to heal. Why won't you do the same for your mind?"

"It's not that simple."

"It never is."

"I want to tell you how I hurt my head."

"Fine."

"I hit it against the wall."

"During a flashback?"

"Yes. It seemed like a rational thing to do at the time. I couldn't stop the visions, but I thought if I just hit my head a few times, maybe I'd be able to change the pressure somehow and the memory would stop. Scary, huh?"

"Did it help?"

"A little."

"I wouldn't advise making it a habit. You could dislodge two or three dead languages from the shelf."

Daniel found a slight smile displayed across his face.

"The medication should help a great deal. In the meantime, let's talk about some relaxation skills." Dr. Reynolds began to explain the importance of relaxation, the connection between the mind and the body.

But Daniel's mind was light years away, trying to put pieces of a horrific puzzle together, and always finding the center piece missing.

*****

The halls of the SGC were empty by the time Daniel had returned. He had left the VA and his appointment many hours earlier, went to a bar, had a few drinks. Anything to dull the visions that kept intruding on him. He thought about returning to his apartment, but the silence of it seemed to crush him.

He entered his office intending on making headway on the backlog of mission reports he had been neglecting. When he moved part of the stack from his desk to his shelf, his field pack caught his eye. He hadn't looked at it since the incident on 729, and was curious to find out what treasures existed inside. All the basic field equipment was present, a few candy bars, a rock and a small sample bag full of ash from 729. Daniel sat back in his chair, put his field pack down and tossed the ash sample bag in his hand. He flipped it over a few times. Had this been in his pack the whole time without anyone bothering to take a look at it? See, he thought, that's what I mean by them not being thorough. This should have been tested along time ag...

An inkling of fear whispered through his mind. Carefully he opened the bag and poured a gram or so of the ash into the palm of his hand. He crushed the ashes with his thumb into a fine powder. The inkling stirred, became corporeal. Almost imperceptibly the temperature in his palm began to rise, but within a few seconds the ashes had changed to cinders, burning his hand. He stumbled to his sink and thrust his hand under the cold water watching the embers swirl down the drain. He felt himself tumbling through a rolling wave of terror, powerless the stop the motion, unable to find the surface. His heart began to race, his vision became distorted. He flailed his arms through the air desperately trying to reach the door. When at last he found the knob and turned it, he fell into the hall.

Scrambling to his feet, sweat pouring from his body, he propelled himself down the corridors to the one place where he thought he might be safe. He reached the door as the tsunami of memory crushed him.

"Sam!" Daniel screamed pounding on the door to her quarters.

Sam jumped up from the dead of sleep and ran to the door. "Daniel. What's wrong?" she asked as she made way for him to enter her quarters.

His eyes were wild, red-rimmed, and he was panting for breath. He scanned the room furiously, finally dropping into the chair. "Something happened!" he cried, rocking back and forth. He pulled his t-shirt collar up and wiped off his face.

Jack, having heard the commotion, barreled into the room. He saw Daniel in the chair, sobbing. He silently questioned Sam about what was happening. She shook her head apprehensively.

Sam scrambled over to Daniel, knelt in front of him and grabbed his arms. "Daniel, tell me what's going on!" she begged, becoming increasingly concerned for him.

Daniel clutched Sam's arms to steady himself as he cried. He dropped his head and sobbed. "I remember it!" he uttered through a terrifically strained voice.

Sam shared a worried look with Jack. She was unsure how to proceed.

Jack nodded his head to her, telling her to stay with him. He kept his distance, aware that Daniel had sought out Sam, not him

"The attack? You remember who did this to you?" Sam asked.

"I can't make it stop!"

"Then don't!"

"I don't want to do this."

"Nothing can hurt you here. You're safe."

Daniel stared at her. "It was the ground! It was there the whole time!" Daniel wailed, shaking her, trying desperately to make Sam understand.

"What was, Daniel? What was on the ground?" she implored him.

Teal'c appeared at the door.

Jack motioned for him to remain silent.

"Reeds. Sticks. Slabs of jagged rock the size of my hands." He grabbed Sam's sweatshirt at the shoulders. "It was the ground. They were beings. It was them!" He buried his face in her shoulder, the suddenness and completeness of the memory terrifying him.

Sam's mind raced with horror.

"The reeds were smoking, burning. About two-feet long. Flying around. They kept slicing me open. Jesus!" He was there, feeling the burning reeds slice through his clothing and through his skin. "Jack!! I have to... get out of here!" he yelled through the panic, standing suddenly, attempting to run from the attack.

Jack caught him just as he fell to the ground.

The entities had tripped Daniel, thrown him head over heals through the razor sharp grass. Wherever his body landed, the tubular reeds punctured his skin. He became spasmodic as one of the reeds forced its way through his rib cage and into his lung. Daniel broke away from Jack and scrambled back against the wall. "Jaaaack!!" He tried curling up in a ball to protect himself as the slabs of rock buffeted him from every direction. He futilely attempted to shield himself with his hands, but even as they protected his body, they received their own punishment. He felt the bones in his hand shatter from the onslaught of the attack. Hot pokers jabbed at his back causing him to arch in pain.

And then the slicing, the gashing of his chest, arms, hips began again. So too did the torrent of rocks, careening off his skull, crushing his hip, catching him in the upper abdomen.

Slowly Sam crept in next to Daniel.

"Why are you doing this?" he cried.

Sam touched him lightly.

He jumped. "What do you want?" The frenzy of the attack blurred in front of him. He couldn't move his bloody, shattered hand fast enough to protect his body. He could smell the flesh on his back burning. The sickening smell lingered in his nose, settled on his palate. Daniel retched.

Jack grabbed the waste basket next to Sam's desk and thrust it in front of Daniel.

In the internal theatre, Daniel heard the crackling and hissing of burning coals being ground into his hips. The pain was unbearable, the sound horrific, but the smell... Daniel doubled over consumed by the nausea.

"It's okay. I got ya," Sam assured him, holding his head while he vomited.

Daniel's body convulsed with each wave of nausea. Dust and ash pelted him, smothered him, pried open his eyes and hunkered down.

And then in an instant it was over. The sudden stillness terrified him.

He felt the air gurgling in his lungs. He dropped his head back into the floor, drained from the attack, feeling every injury once again. "I'm dying. Jesus God. I'm dying."

"No, you're not, Daniel. You're fine." she comforted him, stroking his back.

Teal'c assured the guards outside in the hall that the situation was well in hand.

Daniel lay motionless out of fear and that horrific thought that this may all start again. Is it over? Cautiously he opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see. When the realization hit him that he wasn't on P5X-729, he dissolved, shaking and crying. With the last bit of energy he had, Daniel tentatively reached up for Sam.

She caught him just as he began to sink to the floor again.

"Oh, God, Sam!"

She held him and rocked, her heart racing. She brushed the locks of sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "Don't be afraid," she said making soothing noises.

Daniel held tight to her.

Jack scrubbed his face with one shaking hand.

"We won't let anything hurt you," Sam whispered.

Daniel's sobbing became less convulsive as the horrific images dissipated. He pushed himself up to a sitting position against the wall, never letting go of Sam's hand.

She caressed it, easing his fear with each pass.

Daniel took in gasping breaths, his entire frame trembling.

Perhaps Daniel had chosen Sam's quarters over Jack's. And perhaps Daniel did seek Sam's comfort over his own, but Daniel was still Jack's best friend, no matter what had transpired, and Jack needed Daniel to realize this. Jack lowered himself next to Daniel and put an arm around his shoulder.

Daniel took a shy look at Jack and then surrendered to the show of compassion. Letting Jack envelope him in his comforting embrace, Daniel cried, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling through him. "I can't do this anymore," he whimpered, squeezing Sam's hand, grasping Jack's shirt.

"I know," Jack whispered, laying his cheek on Daniel's head.

Daniel gasped for breath. "I'm so tired."

"I know." Jack held him tightly, rocking him.

"I didn't mean what I said, Jack"

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Aw, dammit, Daniel. Let it go." Jack told him, his voice rough from emotion.

After a long while, Daniel's breathing slowed, the great sobs quieted.

"Daniel, you said something happened." Sam inquired.

Suddenly Daniel scrambled to his feet, tension the driving force.

"The ash sample! God, you gotta get rid of it!"

Jack grabbed him by the arms. "What are you talking about, Daniel?!"

"The sample of ash I brought back from 729. I found it in my field pack! It burned my hand!" Daniel was panting again, fearful of the entity captured in the small plastic bag.

Jack let go of him and ran to Daniel's office with Daniel, Teal'c and Sam in tow. When they arrived, Daniel pointed to where the bag lay. Jack seized it off the floor and poured a small sample of the ash into his palm. Slowly the ashes reintegrated and formed a burning ember. Jack instinctually dropped it out of his hand.

"Jesus!" he cried waving the heat from his palm. The ember burned out, leaving a pock mark in the floor covered by ashes.

"Get rid of it, Jack, please!" Daniel begged, cowering in the corner near the door.

Jack grabbed the small bag, hastily swept the dropped ashes into it, and dumped its contents into the sink where they swirled into oblivion. "It's gone, Daniel," Jack said as he rushed to his friend who was sliding down the wall overcome by fatigue and fear. "Careful. Easy," he said, helping Daniel lower himself to the ground. "Get Doc Fraiser," he ordered Sam. Jack held Daniel's head, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "It's over," he told Daniel.

Daniel rubbed two trembling fists into his eyes.

"No. It's never going to be over," he cried.

Jack pulled Daniel toward him, cloaking him in his protective embrace. "Yes, it is, Danny," he assured him, holding Daniel as the younger man gulped for air. "We're going to see you through this. I promise. Just calm down. Shhhh..."

Sam and Janet appeared in the doorway. Janet scanned the room, finding Jack with his arms wrapped around Daniel, rocking him, comforting him like a father would his son. She knelt down and put a hand on Daniel's back. "Daniel? Why don't we go back to the infirmary where you can rest," she told him rubbing his back.

Daniel shook his head listlessly.

Jack pulled him from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I'll stay with you," Jack promised, his own eyes red from tears.

Daniel held fast to Jack's shirt, desperately needing to have Jack absolve him of all his fears.

"I won't leave you, Daniel."

Nodding, Daniel attempted to stand, but his exhaustion overrode his strength.

Teal'c steadied him, wrapping one arm behind Daniel, the other holding the young man's hand. "Allow me to assist you, my friend," Teal'c told him.

Shaking, Daniel and Teal'c slowly departed for the infirmary with Janet close behind.

Jack remained sitting on the floor pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to gain control over his emotions.

Sam lowered a hand to her colonel. "He'll want to know where you are," she said in a wavering voice.

Jack glanced at the proffered hand. He took it, but didn't stand.

Sam felt the trembling, noticed how Jack had turned his face from her, and knew she was doing all she could to comfort him.

Slowly he rose and turned toward the hall, down the corridor to the infirmary where Daniel would be waiting, and where the interminable night lay stretched out before them.

******

"Jack," Daniel called out in a barely audible voice. Even without his glasses he could make out the tussle of gray hair that lay at the end of his bed. "Jack."

"What?!" Jack said with a start.

"Did I wake you?" Daniel asked. Jack exercised the muscles in his face. "Stupid question."

"It's okay," he said blinking his eyes into focus. "How do you feel?"

Daniel lay on his side, his knees pulled up, his arms wrapped around his chest. "I'm...I'm a little tired."

"I'll bet. How long you been awake?"

"I don't know, an hour?"

"Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"Jack?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

"Jack?"

"Yes, Daniel!"

"It wasn't an arbitrary attack, you know."

"It wasn't?"

"No. I've been thinking. When I took those soil samples, they saw my actions as hostile, and they retaliated. In their...eyes, for lack of a better word, I was taking some of them. Some of their own. If you think about it, we would have done the same."

"You think so," Jack asked dubiously.

"It makes more sense than anything else I can come up with."

"I guess it does," Jack agreed. "We can talk about it more in the morning."

"I wasn't...calling out your name."

"What's that?"

"I wasn't trying to call for you...back there. I know I told you that...that I was trying to figure out where you were. At the time, I thought that's what I was doing."

"Daniel, slow down."

"I was trying to warn you, Jack. And I didn't realize that until tonight."

Jack sat back, crossed his arms, and rubbed his face as he began to understand.

Daniel lazily looked about the room as he spoke not wanting to make eye contact with Jack, not wanting to cry anymore. "The times I could hear myself screaming your name. I wasn't trying to have you come rescue me. I was trying to tell you to get out of there. I didn't want them to..." Daniel stopped, overcome by what could have happened.

"It's okay, Daniel."

"I'm sorry if I..."
"It's okay, Daniel." Jack tried to assure him.

Daniel shook his head and drew the palm of his hand across his eyes.

"You're a good friend, Daniel. But I wasn't there."

"I'm glad you weren't there. I didn't want you to be."

"I should have been. I should have never let you bring up the rear."

"It was my choice."

"Go to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"Okay." Daniel rolled over. He tried to close his eyes, but there was one more thing he needed to tell Jack. One more thing that gnawed at him. "I was dying out there, Jack."

Jack leaned forward in his chair and wrapped his head with his arms.

"When I heard your voice I was relieved, because I didn't want to die alone. I knew you wouldn't let me die alone."

"Go to sleep, Danny," Jack whispered.

Daniel lay still, his own hushed tears mixing with Jack's, a communion of shared fatigue, fear and hard-won friendship.

*****

When the last box was packed, Daniel took a deep breath and made the long trek to General Hammond's office. He knew this was the right decision, and he hoped the general would agree with him. He shook out his hands as he walked trying in vain to get the blood to return. His heart raced with anticipation of the meeting.

Apprehensively he knocked on the door. The general's voice beckoned him in. Once inside he saw General Hammond, Jack and Janet.

"Come on in, Dr. Jackson," the General said as Daniel chose a seat next to Jack. "Dr. Fraiser and Colonel O'Neill have been filling me in on last night. Helluva night you had, son."

"Yes, sir. That's why I'm here."

The general looked pensively around the room at the people seated. "Oh?"

"I'd like to take sometime off to...sort things through. And I was hoping that when everything was...sorted out, I'd be able to come back here. To the SGC," Daniel asked nervously.

"Will you be working with Dr. Reynolds?" asked General Hammond maintaining a calm demeanor.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Then you take all the time you need to get yourself well, and when you feel like you're ready to come back, the door will always be open," the general assured him.

Daniel blew out a mouthful of air and dropped his head. "Thank you, sir."

"Son, at the risk of sounding patronizing, I am proud of you for acknowledging the fact that you need assistance in this matter."

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said, rising from his chair.

Jack rose to join him.

"One last thing, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond added before Daniel and Jack left the office. "Humanity bustles along at a linear clip. And then once every couple generations there's a blip on the radar screen. One person who will rise above and beyond the rest, possess the knowledge and wisdom far outreaching his contemporaries and those for years to come. That person is you, Doctor. You are the heart and soul of us all. Without you, this entire project is nothing but a theory. Colonel O'Neill and I are old soldiers, good soldiers, but soldiers nonetheless. We can be replaced by other soldiers."

Jack raised a dubious eyebrow and tipped his head.

"But you're the franchise, Doctor. So you take whatever time you need, and then come back home to us."

Daniel gripped the door jam steadying himself. He nodded his head appreciatively. "Thank you, General."

Jack placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder as they left the office.

Out in the hall, Daniel took a deep breath, held it and then expelled slowly, deliberately.

"What the general said in there...That was nice," Jack said, his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, it was."

"Of course, I've been telling you that for years."

"Gee, I don't think calling me a 'freak of nature' is quite the same," Daniel corrected.

"Semantics," Jack said shrugging his shoulders. "You taking off?"

"Yeah," Daniel whispered, his head lowered.

Jack placed Daniel in a gentle hug.

Daniel reciprocated slowly at first and then more earnestly.

"I know you're scared," Jack whispered.

Daniel nodded.

"You're doing the right thing."

"I hope so."

"I'll call you soon," he said, breaking the embrace.

"I know you will." Daniel smiled.

Jack patted him on the cheek. "Take care, Daniel."

"I will," Daniel said taking a few steps back, nervously crossing his arms. "Jack. Tell Sam and Teal'c..."

"Done."

With a thankful nod, Daniel waved good-bye to Jack and made his way out of the SGC.

Jack watched him leave, and for the first time in months felt a sense of release. When Daniel had rounded the corner, Jack turned to go to his office. What a nightmare, he thought. When he reached the part of the corridor that lead to his office, he was met by Sam and Teal'c.

Sam's blue eyes were heavy with concern.

Jack smiled gently as he approached them.

"Colonel, how's Daniel?" Sam asked nervously.

Jack opened his door and motioned for them to enter. "Major, I am happy to say that, for the first time in months, I think Daniel is going to be fine. Come on. I'll tell you all about it," he said as he welcomed his teammates into his office.

SG1 would be incomplete without Daniel for the next few months, but in time, Daniel would return to them. His scars would never disappear. But his terror would abate, and his life would become his own again.

�

The end.