"Is it over?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, Daniel," Jack told him.

Daniel sat slumped on the hospital bed, his bare legs dangling off the side, and watched Janet bandage his wrists. He turned to look at Jack, seated next to him. "Is she gone?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, Daniel. She's gone," Jack told him. The colonel nodded and pushed the ill-fitting hospital gown back over Daniel's shoulder. "Sarah is dead."

Daniel closed his eyes, felt his throat close, and shook his head.

"Daniel, this is going to hurt, okay?" Janet said, cleaning the wounds on his wrist.

"Am I home?" he asked in a whisper, barely opening his eyes.

Janet looked into Daniel's glazed eyes, unfocused and exhausted, dark puffy smudges below each. The telltale signs of a ribbon device were displayed across his forehead and eyelids--wheals and singed flesh. "Yes, Daniel. You're on base."

The doctor gingerly administered care to the savaged joints, red and raw, scraped and gouged, some of the welts festering with pus. She had given orders for Sam to start an IV with a piggy back of antibiotics as soon as they found him, but that was two days ago, and the infection was still tenaciously hanging on. So, too, was the fever.

"Daniel, are you in pain?" Janet asked, carefully taping the sterile gauze pads to his hands and wrists.

Daniel stared at her, creased his brow and blinked. "Is it over?"

Janet lowered her face slightly and looked at him cautiously. "Yes, Daniel. It's over." She quickly glanced to catch Jack's reaction.

Jack, with his arm wrapped protectively around Daniel's shoulders, clenched his jaw. He drew in a long breath. "Daniel?" he said softly, rubbing Daniel's far arm.

Daniel turned slowly and tried to focus on Jack's face.

"Daniel, it's over. Sarah's gone; you're on base; you're in the infirmary; you're going to be all right," Jack assured him.

Janet turned Daniel's wrist over and began to work on the sores there. She sucked in air through her teeth seeing the deep gouges, knowing how painful they must be. Painful to anyone else. Not to Daniel. Not now.

"Jack?" Daniel asked, looking at him in parts, first his eyes, then his mouth, trying to hear and see at the same time, mix in a little comprehension of what the mouth was saying to him.

"Yeah, Daniel."

Daniel felt it first in his stomach. Then his chest tightened. He tried to swallow but his tongue felt thick. His nose was suddenly hot and prickly. Tears built up in his eyes. He blinked them away, felt them trickle down his face. "Jack, is she gone?"

Jack pulled a tissue from the box next to him. He wiped Daniel's face, pinched the mucus from his nose, and dropped the used tissue in the pile with the rest. "Yes, Daniel. She's gone."

Daniel nodded and sniffed. "Okay. Okay. I'm glad." He closed his eyes and tried to reconcile his loss. Tried to think. Tried to remember where he was.

Jack heard Janet sniffle.

"Jack?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, Daniel."

"Is it over?"

Jack let go of Daniel's arm and tenderly pressed Daniel's head onto his shoulder, holding him, slightly and instinctually rocking him. "Yes, Daniel. It's over."

"Okay," Daniel whispered as tears stained Jack's shoulder. "Okay."

"I'm almost finished," Janet said, not knowing who needed to hear it more, Jack or Daniel. Probably Jack.

She had tended to Daniel's cracked ribs first, moved onto the horrendous wounds to his back, and then saw to his wrists. She needed to get a cat scan of his skull but was worried he wouldn't be able to take the confined space, not just yet, not while he needed Jack so close.

She was concerned about his behavior, deeply concerned. She thought about calling in another physician to care for him because she felt her concern edging into fear edging into panic edging into the inability to think straight.

Jack caressed Daniel's shoulder with one hand and stroked his cheek with the other. Except for the five day's worth of growth on his face, Daniel felt and acted like a lost little boy. The dichotomy--facial hair and needing to be held-- gnawed at Jack. But if that's what Daniel needed, Jack would damn well give it to him.

"Are you cold?" Jack asked, feeling Daniel shiver inside the light gown with the twisted laces and the mismatched snaps.

"No," Daniel answered. "Jack?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"Is she really gone?" he asked in the upper register of his voice.

Jack kissed the top of Daniel's head. "Yes, Danny. She's gone."

He pulled another tissue from the box.

*****

Jack gave Daniel's face one more gentle swipe with the washcloth. He tilted Daniel's face away from the pillow just a tad to see if he had, in fact, wiped away all the blood.

"You're beautiful again," Jack told him sarcastically, trying to give Daniel a smile. He tossed the stained washcloth down with the dirty bed linens, saturated towels, and hospital gown. Jack picked up a new washcloth, soaked it, wrung it out and laid it on Daniel's forehead.

Daniel lay on his side, his hands in front of him trembling slightly.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

Daniel's eyes fluttered. "I'm fine." He detested the fact that he couldn't clean himself, had to be helped out of his gown and into a new one. Hated that a ridiculous bloody nose would make him begin to panic and cry.

"I heard we had another gusher," Janet said even before reaching Daniel's bed. She quickly checked his chart. "Bad one?" she quietly asked Jack, never looking away from the chart.

Jack nodded. "We took care of it." He pushed his hands in his pockets. His paternal instincts, always on high alert when Daniel was down, told him to rub Daniel's arm, use cooing noises and small words to calm him--"You okay now, buddy? Hmm? I know. I know. That wasn't fun."--treat him like he used to treat Charlie when his son was sick with the flu.

But Daniel didn't have the flu, and he wasn't Jack's son, and he wasn't a little boy. Daniel was a man suffering from exhaustion, painful wounds, too many sessions with the Goa'uld ribbon device, and the ever-present memory of having killed someone close to him. He needed to be treated with dignity and with patience. In a few days there would be another thing he needed--he would need to be held to high expectations, not allowed to be coddled. But now, dignity and patience were the order. And compassion.

Daniel had been in the infirmary for three days since they returned from Osiris' ship. He was tense, even when sedated--something that happened more often than Jack liked. His hands shook almost constantly. The infection in his wounds was almost gone, and the fever was down, but the pain continued.

He trembled when the nursing staff or Janet came in contact with him while changing bandages and dressings. He didn't speak unless questioned directly, and even then the question had to be repeated a number of times.

And to top it all off, there had been the succession of nose bleeds. Janet said it was from the injuries to his sinuses from the ribbon device. Couple of times a day and night, a small trickle of blood would snake down his lip followed by a heavier flow. The first one happened on Jacob's ship. Daniel had panicked, started screaming, tried to stop the blood with his bandaged hands, tried to run. Jack had to hold him while Sam pushed a sedative through his IV.

Since then, Daniel let Jack take care of him, talk him through the fear. Jack would hold the towel under his nose, pinch just above his nostrils, all the while talking to him, telling him incidental stories and crummy jokes. Daniel would intently watch him, blink away tears, try not to give into the overwhelming need to scream.

When the flow of the dark red blood stopped, when the towel was completely saturated, Jack would help Daniel stand up while the staff changed bed clothes. Daniel would rest his forehead against Jack's chest; Jack would rub the back of Daniel's neck.

The nurse on duty would swiftly untie the laces on the gown, open the snaps on the arms, and let the stained gown fall to the ground.

Daniel would stand, naked, trembling and panting against Jack's chest, now and again letting loose a muffled cry while the nurse shook out the new gown.

The scars, Jack remembered. She can see the scars. No one should see the scars. Don't let anyone see the scars. "Hurry up, would ya?"

With the new gown snapped and tied, Jack would carefully lower Daniel back down to the bed, lay him on his side, wash his face, and put a cold cloth over his forehead.

Couple of times a day and night, for three days.

Jack was exhausted.

Janet crouched down next to Daniel and asked him to tilt his head up so she could examine his sinuses with the otoscope.

"Well, looks good, actually. The swelling is down," she said, flicking the disposable tip into the garbage. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

Daniel blinked and stared at her name tag.

"Daniel," Jack prompted, sitting down in the bedside chair. He scrubbed his scalp with his fingers, trying to brush away the fatigue.

Daniel flinched at Jack's voice, focused on Janet's face. "What?"

"How are you feeling?" Janet asked again, speaking deliberately and quiet. She checked to make sure his IV was secured.

"I'm fine," Daniel's stock answer came out, as his eyes began to teeter back and forth. "I'm gonna sleep now, okay?"

"Sure," Janet said, nodding, wanting to touch him, knowing not to. "You go ahead."

Daniel closed his eyes.

Janet turned to Jack. "Colonel, you need to take a break. You can't keep this up."

Jack rubbed his eyes and leaned over his knees. "I know. Um, maybe I'll..."

"Go home," she said.

"I was going to say 'go back to my office and rest,'" he said.

"Nope. Sorry, that's not going to cut it. You need to go home, get away from here for a night, Colonel. Daniel will be okay."

Jack wanted to argue with her, if only to keep up the tradition, but the truth was he was too tired.

"Yeah, okay," he said, standing. "But I want a call if anything..."

"I know, 'if anything comes up.' I know the drill, Colonel. Go home," Janet said, patting his arm, scooting him out of the infirmary.

Jack stopped to say goodbye to Daniel.

"Don't bother. He's asleep," Janet told him. "Go."

Jack stepped to the door, turned to look at Daniel one last time, grimaced and left.

Two weeks ago he had left the SGC on a mission to catalogue some interesting ruins. A simple mission, a mission that should have taken a couple days, used maybe a bandage on a cut finger, bored him to tears waiting for Carter and Daniel to do all the things they do.

What the hell happened?

How did the objective change so drastically and dramatically? How could it happen that, two weeks later, he found himself blindly walking away from Daniel's side, leaving a man behind in the infirmary who he hardly recognized? A man who had been beaten and tortured, burned and broken. A man whose eyes were hollowed out and dull. A man who reminded him too viscerally of his own beaten and tortured past.

He felt his stomach churning, felt the vacuous aura of nausea surround him. He stepped quickly into the latrine, and began to vomit. Sweat instantly beaded his forehead, and his stomach muscles clenched and constricted, forcing more fluid to jettison out his mouth. He panted noisily between each wave. He reached for toilet paper to wipe off his mouth and face, leaned over the commode again, this time only to retch, and flushed the toilet. He spat into the swirling water just as it drained away.

Sitting in the stall, his arms propped up on his knees, his quaking hands covering his eyes, Jack forced himself to take deep breaths, forced himself to lower his heart rate, calm down, try not to think about it. Iraq was a long time ago. I'm okay. I'm okay...

"Um, Colonel?" Sam's voice came from the hall.

Jack frantically pulled himself up off the floor and quickly walked over to the sinks. "Yeah, hold on." He splashed water over his face, put his mouth under the stream of water and sucked in a mouthful. He rinsed the mustiness, dried his face and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, Carter. What do you need?" he asked, entering the hall.

Sam carefully examined his face, saw the pallor, noticed how shaken he seemed. She bit her lip and kept up the facade that everything was normal. "General Hammond needs to see us."

"Oh, uh," Jack looked around the hall, hoping to be able to get out of the mountain before any other crises came to head. "I..." He pointed down the hall. And then he dropped his hand, shoved both in his pockets. "Okay."

They walked the distance to the general's office in silence. Sam wanted to respect his desire to keep his obvious bout of nausea private, and Jack wanted the same. He'd tell Sam what happened. Later. Not on base. Not now.

When they reached Hammond's office, Jack knocked on the open door, letting Sam step in before him.

"Come in, Colonel. Major," the general said, glancing up at them as they entered. "Close the door. Have a seat."

Jack closed the door and took a chair next to Sam, in front of the general's desk.

"I just received a message from Corey Jackson," General Hammond told them, resting his elbows on the arm of his chair and tenting his fingers. "She called the base looking for information on Dr. Jackson's whereabouts. She was told he'd be back in a week, and now two weeks have gone by. She'd like some answers."

Sam shielded her eyes. "Oh, my God. Corey," she muttered. "I can't believe we haven't called her."

"I assumed one of you would have called her. She's Dr. Jackson's family and she should have been notified," General Hammond told them, tempering his tone, aware of the circumstances and the intense emotions percolating just under the surface of his subordinates.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and just about wished for a cigarette after all these years of going smoke free. "I blew it, sir. I... well, I just completely forgot about it. I'm not sure how."

"You know, it's funny, but Daniel hasn't mentioned Corey at all," Sam said, looking at Jack.

"He keeps asking about Sarah Gardner, asking if she's gone, but, you're right, he hasn't been asking for Corey," Jack recalled.

"Regardless, Dr. Jackson's wife has a right to be informed," General Hammond said.

Jack clucked the side of his cheek. "Yup," he said. "Sir, I was about to leave for the night. I'll stop by on my way home. SOP, I'm assuming?"

"Correct, Colonel," General Hammond answered, nodding. "Oh, and Jack..."

"Yes, sir."

"Tell Corey...Tell her..."

Jack shared the wordless acknowledgement and nodded. "Yes, sir. I will."

Sam stood up and asked to be excused. General Hammond gave her permission, and she and Jack left his office.

*****

"Jack, we're almost there," Sam said, lightly shaking Jack's shoulder. He had fallen asleep in the truck within minutes of leaving the mountain. Sam clearly saw how much he needed the sleep and purposely took the long way to Corey's house.

Jack breathed through his nose and blinked. "Guess I fell asleep."

"Yeah. I mean, that's good. You've been going full tilt for a long time," Sam said, reaching over and handing him a water bottle. "Thought you could use some fluid."

Jack accepted it with a meek thank you, opened it, and downed half the contents He lowered the bottle and his eyes with it. "I, uh, haven't...This thing with Daniel, it's..."

"Have you been vomiting a lot, Jack?" she asked, looking over at him. Two years they had been married, and she didn't know if he'd ever be able to completely lay it all on the table. She walked a fine line with him between prying and insouciance, always remembering his propensity for closing down, shutting her and everyone else out.

Jack turned his eyes to the passing scenery. "Must be something I ate for lunch."

"You didn't eat lunch."

"Right," Jack said. He played this game with himself: if he could convince everyone else of a lie, then maybe he could believe it himself. The problem was, Sam wasn't that easy to convince. And why did he need to convince her? He took a sip of the water. "Couple of times. Yesterday and today," he finally conceded.

"You okay?"

"Just tired, I guess. We'll talk to Corey, go home, and you can pour me into bed," he said, turning to her and offering a faint smile.

Sam quickly glanced at him, knew the conversation was over and patted him on the knee. "Okay."

They turned onto the winding street that lead into the foothills. Jack pulled a piece of gum out of his jacket, offered one to Sam, and collected his thoughts. He almost wished he could have called his ex-wife Sara. Ask her how the Air Force had told her about Jack's POW experience. He wished he could ask her how to proceed with Corey--what to tell a wife, what to leave out. What did you need to know to get through the night? he would ask. What didn't you need to know to be able to get through the next few weeks?

Sam's stomach twisted and tightened as they drove up the driveway. So many things needed to be said including an apology, an explanation, a veiled, carefully edited description of Osiris, and what might happen in the months to come. She put the truck in park, shared a look with Jack, and opened the door.

They walked together, solemnly, up to the door. Jack took a deep breath before knocking. Sam gave him a supportive squeeze on his elbow.

The door opened quickly. Corey's face morphed from surprise to confusion to horror. "Oh, God. Where's Daniel?" she asked, suddenly sinking down and crouching next to the door.

Jack pulled her up as he and Sam entered the foyer. "Corey, Daniel's okay. He's in the infirmary," he told her, holding her arms. "Sam and I came over to tell you what's going on."

Corey searched his eyes. He looked tired, she thought. "He's in the..."

"Infirmary. The hospital on base," Jack said.

"I know what an infirmary is, Jack. I just don't understand why he's in the infirmary," Corey said, her face flushed with anger and fear.

"Can we..." Jack started, nodding toward the living room. Corey shook off the initial shock and offered them a seat. When they were all seated, Jack decided to get the truth out to her and hope he didn't make matters any worse than they were. "Corey, General Hammond got your message that you called. We came over as soon as we were notified."

"Corey, we would have called sooner, but it's been chaotic on base since we got back," Sam tried to explain. She knew every time she and Jack mentioned that they had been home without contacting Corey was one more set up for an apology that Corey might not accept. "It's just that..."

"I don't care about that," Corey said, shaking her head. "I just want to know about Daniel."

Jack hardly knew where to begin. He reached out and took her hand. "Corey, Daniel was taken by force on our mission. He was held for a week against his will. His captors..." Jack stopped, finding it difficult to describe what had happened to Daniel. "His captors..."

Sam could see the tension in his face and decided to give him a moment to compose himself while she said the awful words. "Corey, Daniel was tortured..."

Corey sucked in a frightened breath.

"...but he's going to be okay," Sam continued. She moved from her chair next to Corey on the couch. "Daniel was...beaten."

"Beaten?" Corey asked, her face tight and twisted. "What kind of beatings?"

"He was lashed," Jack said plainly, hoping that if he could just get it out fast and truthfully, she'd hear it, accept it, and they'd all go on. The look on her face told him this wouldn't be the case. "Corey, Daniel was whipped. On his back. He was strung up by his hands. He was beaten and shocked with electricity," he told her carefully.

Corey stared hard at him, the blood rushing, pulsing in her ears. "No. This isn't possible," she finally said. "Daniel's an archeologist, a linguist, for Christ's sake. PhD's aren't tortured."

"Daniel was," Jack quietly told her. He smoothed the strong muscles and rigid tendons of the muscian's hand. "We've been back a few days. Daniel's...well, Daniel's ..." Jack turned from her, unable to say what he felt. And he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

"What, Jack? Tell me!" Corey demanded.

"Corey, you don't go through something like this without coming out the other end wound up tighter than a three-dollar watch," Jack said. "He's confused. He's scared. He's..." Jack shook his head and swallowed, forcing the image of Daniel's trembling hands out of his mind.

"There's something else you need to know," Sam told her. Corey turned to Sam. "The person who took Daniel was an old colleague. Daniel was forced to...kill her in order to survive." Corey let out a cry. Sam wrapped her arm around Corey's shoulders.

"This is too much. This can't be real. Tell me it's just a really bad, sick joke, Sam," Corey begged, shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Corey. It's not."

Corey sat still, staring at Sam, pressing her fingers over her mouth. Finally, she expelled an explosive breath. "I need to see him," Corey said, straightening up, wiping her face quickly. "Take me to him."

"Corey, you don't understand," Jack began.

"No, Jack, I don't, but sooner than later I'm going to ask all the questions I need in order to understand it, and when I do, I expect some answers," she told Jack, pointedly. "Now, I want you to take me to see Daniel."

"Corey, Daniel's..."

"God dammit, Jack! He's my husband, and if he's hurt I want to be with him," she snapped, suddenly on her feet.

"Corey, that's not up for debate," Jack told her, rubbing his eyes. He didn't have the energy or patience for arguing with her. He tried to keep his voice calm as he continued. "I can't take you there. The infirmary on base is in a secured area."

"I don't give a good god damn. You take me to see Daniel," she seethed, punctuating her words with jabs from her index finger.

Sam shook her head. "Corey, it's not like we can walk you onto the base and..."

"I don't care what you have to do. I want to see my husband."

"Corey," Jack began.

"No, Jack. Take me to see my husband," she said through clenched teeth.

"You're not listening, Corey. I can't," Jack told her, feeling the long hours and tension scratching at his temper.

"And you're not listening, Jack. He needs me," Corey answered back.

"That may be true, Corey," Jack said, his tone becoming patronizing and sarcastic, "but he also needs time to recover."

"I can help him recover. I'm his wife. You don't know what he needs," she said, and the instant it was out of her mouth she regretted it. The speed with which Jack flew out of his chair and into her space startled her. Sam turned her head.

"Let me tell you what I know about the things Daniel needs," Jack began, eyeing her through stubborn slits, his much larger frame looming over her smaller frame, no matter how puffed up with fury and indignation she tried to assume. "He needs someone to hold a towel under his nose while it bleeds. He needs someone to wash the snot and the blood off his face and chest after. He needs someone to spoon feed him applesauce, and someone to hold his head while he pukes applesauce all over you because the texture of it reminded him of something unpleasant. He needs someone to tell him over and over and over that he's home, that the ordeal is over, that, yes, he did kill his old girlfriend. He needs someone to wake him up when he's dreaming about his dead wife, his dead parents, his dead friends, and he can't decide if it's a dream or real. He needs someone to remind him when to eat, when to drink, when to breathe, when to take a piss. He needs someone to hold him up in the bathroom so he can take a piss." Jack stopped and looked at the tears rushing down Corey's face.

"And, yeah, you could just as well do all those things for him, Corey, but right now and until he can leave the infirmary, I'll be doing them for you. For Daniel." He clenched his teeth together and felt his jaw muscles twitch.

Corey stared at him until the features in his face became blurred and nondescript. When her lungs began to burn, she took a breath, and with that air came sobs.

Jack threw his arms around her, threw the bitter understanding that he shared with her around her. He let her cry and hoped that some of those tears could be counted as his own. He listened to her wail and heard his own cry in the fractious overtones.

"When will he...When can I..." she began in a whisper.

Jack held her tight. "Give it a couple weeks, Corey. Let him heal."

"Okay. All right," she cried. Jack felt her hands trembling against his chest. He smoothed her hair. "But Jack?"

"Yeah, Corey?"

"Could you tell him I love him? Can you do that for me?"

"I can," Jack promised her. He felt her begin to relax and unwound his arms. "I'll tell him, Corey. And as soon as he's up to it, I'll get a call through to you, okay?"

Corey nodded. "Thanks," she muttered.

"Why don't I make some coffee?" Sam said, removing her coat.

Corey blankly looked out the window and nodded.

"Corey, Daniel will get through this," Jack said. "You just have to give it some time." He smoothed down her hair, gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Corey nodded again, dizzy from the realization that her life had just been slammed into a lower gear at 100 miles an hour.

"Why don't we sit down. Maybe I can answer some questions for you," Jack told her, leading her to the couch.

"Yeah. Yeah," Corey cried, pulling her sleeves over her face. "Okay."

Jack sat down and wove his finger behind his head. Corey sat next to him, leaning over her knees. Her legs bounced up and down and her face contorted trying to be strong, show Jack that she could be just as stoic as he.

Jack wasn't buying it. "Hey, Corey?" he said, rubbing her back.

Corey turned her head slightly to him, tried to smile, but found instead that the compassion in his eyes made her weak. She toppled over into his arms.

Jack held Corey, kissed her hair, repeated over and over in a hushed, anguished voice that he understood, that he knew how scared she was, that everything would be all right, shhhh, give it time. I know. I know. Just give it time...

*****

Janet put on a fresh lab coat as she entered Daniel's room. She had been on call all night, and it had been a relatively quiet night. Daniel made it through the night without his nose bleeding and with only minimal amounts of pain killers. She guardedly thought that maybe he was over the worst.

He lay in the bed on his side, his back to her. Through the openings in the gown Janet could see the dressings on his back. She checked to make sure he was still asleep, and then very carefully she untied the laces on the back of his gown to check the wounds. Laying open the flaps of the gown, Janet listened for any changes in his breathing. She lightly pressed her fingers near the bandages, felt for the temperature of the surrounding skin, carefully pulled back one piece of surgical tape, and felt herself falling against the monitors.

"La'a! La'a!" Daniel screamed in Egyptian, kicking his way to the head of the bed.

Janet pushed herself off of the instrumentation, grimaced at the bruising on her arms, and reached for Daniel's hands.

"Don't touch me!" he cried. His pupils were saucers, and his voice was shrill and unstable. He held his hands defensively in front of his face and kicked until the sheets were pulled from the bed.

"Daniel! Daniel, listen to me," Janet said, loud enough to hopefully penetrate Daniel's frantic screams. She tried to grab hold of his arm, just to make sure he wouldn't yank out his IV, but Daniel twisted and turned and flung himself precariously close to the edge of the bed. "Sergeant!" Janet called, quickly stepping to Daniel's side in order to stop his fall. A nurse entered the room. "I need a miligram of Ativan, stat!"

"Sa ahidnee, min fad'lak! Sa ahidnee!" Daniel cried, pulling his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Daniel, do you know where you are?" Janet asked, laying her hand on his shoulder.

Daniel hit her hand away furiously. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, scrambling to stand.

"Sergeant!" Janet called, trying to hold Daniel in place. The nurse ran in with the fully loaded needle, gave it to Janet, and climbed up on the bed to restrain Daniel. Janet pulled his feet out from under him and forced him down on the bed. He kicked and struggled with more force than a person in his weakened condition ought have.

"Jesus!" Janet exclaimed as Daniel struggled. Even with the two of them, Daniel was too frantic for them to control. "Lieutenant!"

From outside, an orderly ran in the room and immediately began restraining Daniel.

"La'a! No!" Daniel wailed. Like a primate sensing danger, Daniel screamed and thrashed. "Get off! Don't touch me!!"

The orderly grabbed Daniel's kicking legs, and the nurse bodily held down his shoulders. Janet pushed the drug into his IV.

"Sa ahidnee, min fad'lak! Sa ahidnee!" Daniel pled, grappling futilely with the two people holding him. Enormous sobs jarred his body. "Help me, please! Min fad'lak, sa ahidnee!"

"Daniel, calm down," Janet said, forcing him to look at her. "Daniel. Dr. Jackson."

"Please. Please don't hurt me anymore," Daniel cried as his eyelashes clumped together with tears. The powder blue of his corneas was in stark contrast to the bloodshot whites. "Please," he begged. Each entreaty losing energy and frenzied immediacy, until he was spent, weakened from the strength of the sedatives holding him back, holding his fear at bay.

Janet stroked his face and motioned for the nurse and the orderly to release him. "Shhh, Daniel. It's going to be all right."

Daniel began to waiver, and his breathing began to slow. The madness in his eyes ceased and was replaced by confused fear. "J..Janet?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"I..." he began, his mouth forming different words, unable to think past the adrenalin and Ativan fog to pull out one word which would express his state of mind. "I..."

"Shhh, it's okay, Daniel. Just relax," Janet quietly told him. She massaged his shoulder. "Daniel, I need to look at your back. Will you let me do that?"

Daniel languished under the sedatives. He began slipping away from care and away from expression. He felt himself yawing, rolling. His body seemed encased in thick foam, barely able to recognize stimulus.

Time and place fell away, dissolved before his eyes.

*****

"No, Teal'c, remember: rock crushes scissors; scissors cut paper; paper covers rock," Jack told him, taking a sip from his coffee.

"O'Neill, of the three objects, would not a rock always be considered mightier than the others," Teal'c asked.

Jack pinched up his face and nodded. "Well, yeah, but, you're kind of missing the point."

"Which is?"

"That this is an idiotic game to pass the hours, that's all," Jack told him, exasperated.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, standing. "I believe I shall take my leave from you, O'Neill."

"Wait, now. I haven't taught you how to thumb wrestle yet," Jack told him, walking behind Teal'c to the door. "Hand Slap?"

Teal'c wove his fingers behind his back as he walked away from the invitation.

"If he thinks I'm gonna teach him Cats in the Cradle, he's got another think coming," Jack muttered, taking his seat alongside Daniel's bed. Jack put his feet up on the lowered rail of the bed, picked up his Sports Illustrated and his cup of coffee.

"Jack?"

Jack looked up, not sure whether he had actually heard his name or not. He saw that Daniel's eyes were open. He dropped his feet and put down his magazine and coffee. "Hey."

"I'm thirsty," Daniel whispered.

"Got ya covered," Jack said, offering a cup with water and a straw to Daniel. Daniel sipped from it slowly. "It ain't a milkshake, but then again, it ain't a beer, either."

Daniel nodded that he was done. "Thanks."

"I'll send you the bill," Jack said, lifting his lip in a semi-smile. He pulled his chair up to Daniel's bed and sat down. "So, how's she goin'?"

"I'm a little punky," Daniel said, closing his eyes momentarily.

"Daniel, Sam and I stopped by your house last night," Jack said, uncertain how this conversation might shake out. "Corey called the base..."

"Corey's gone," he said plainly.

"How's that? Gone where?" Jack asked.

"You told me yourself, she's gone."

"No, Daniel. She's not gone, I mean, she's not here, but she's not...gone-gone."

Daniel started to breathe more heavily. "You said she was gone, Jack. I asked you over and over. And you told me, Jack, you told me yourself she was gone."

Jack rubbed his forehead and tried to explain. "No. No. I said Sarah was gone. Sarah Gardner is gone. As in dead. Not Corey. Corey is at home."

"No," Daniel said, pushing himself up on an elbow. "I sent her away; you said she was gone; she's gone!"

"Daniel..."

"Tell me she's gone, Jack!" Daniel demanded.

"You need to settle down, Daniel."

"Not until you promise me that she's gone," Daniel said, his voice straining, forcing himself to sit up.

"Gone where, Daniel?"

"Away," he said, angry that Jack couldn't keep up with the conversation.

"Daniel, okay, I don't get it, but you want me to tell you that Corey isn't here?"

"Yes. No. I want you to tell me she's..." He paused to look at Jack, look through him, and into his own swirling recollections. Daniel's shoulders slumped, lost the energy of desperate demands. He pressed his hands into his eyes while his voice croaked and sputtered unintelligible words. Daniel's mind raced with images, pounded with accusations and orders. He heard his voice telling--no, yelling for Corey to leave.

And she did. She left him bleeding and torn on that ship, just like he asked her to do. He remembered the cold numbness of her departure, felt the marrow in his bones turn to dust. The penultimate moment before death. Somehow he had been given a reprieve. He had been set free from death by their arrival.

Daniel tossed his head back and forth. "I thought you said she was gone," Daniel said, pulling his knees up to his chest. He slowly stretched his side to give relief to his throbbing ribs.

"Daniel, listen to me: Corey isn't gone. All right? She's at home."

Daniel lowered his hands and circled his knees with his arms. He kept his eyes closed, tried to sort through the scattered snippets of memory. "Jack--God!-- you don't get it. I sent her away."

"When?"

Daniel shook his head and sighed. "Back there."

A shiver of cognizance ran through Jack's body. "When you were being tortured?"

Daniel nodded.

Jack reached for the wall and leaned his hand against it, suddenly understanding what Daniel was talking about. It opened up hidden wounds, decade old scars, cast Jack into a whirling-dervish of memories.

"You sent her away to protect her," Jack quietly said, pawing at his brow. I have no wife.

Daniel nodded.

"You didn't want her there. It was too painful." I have no son.

Again he nodded.

"Ah, dammit." Jack knew. It was clear. It was his own and thousands others' coping mechanism. He took in a slow and deliberate breath, tried to focus on the present before he found himself being sucked back into the past.

Jack carefully sat on the edge of Daniel's bed but didn't touch him. "Daniel? Open your eyes, Daniel."

Daniel shook his head timidly.

"Daniel, it's over. You're safe now. Go ahead and tell Corey she can come back."

Daniel slowly opened his eyes and tried to look at Jack, found he didn't have the strength, and closed them again. "I can't."

Jack stayed very still, very calm. "It's okay, Daniel. Osiris can't hurt you anymore. Corey can't see you suffering. You can tell her to come back."

"I can't, Jack. I don't have the..." He locked eyes with Jack, hoping his friend could divine the painful words from him. "I can't."

"That's okay. Tomorrow. We'll--you and I--we'll get her back," Jack told him, slightly lowering his face to the side in order to read Daniel's expression better.

Daniel looked around the room, forced air into his lungs. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." He scooted down in his bed. Jack stood up to give him more room.

"Okay. Let me give you a hand," he offered. He held the back of Daniel's neck while Daniel slowly pressed down into the bed. "You need anything?" Jack asked.

"I need Janet," Daniel said, painfully turning to his side, his back to Jack. He wanted out. Didn't want to feel anymore. Wanted the calliope in his head to grind to a standstill.

"Sure. I'll get her," Jack said. He pressed the call button next to Daniel's bed and waited.

"Can I help you?" the voice over the speaker said.

"Uh, yeah. Doc Fraiser around? This is Colonel O'Neill."

"I'll send her right over."

"Thanks," Jack said. He sat down in his chair, dropped his head and interlocked his fingers over the back of his neck. Two black pumps came into his field of vision. Jack pointed his finger toward Daniel. The pumps changed course.

"Daniel, what can I do for you?" Jack heard Janet say.

"My back hurts," Daniel whispered.

"Okay, let me get you something for the pain," she said, turning from his bed.

You don't have what he needs, Jack thought.

*****

And then his eyes were opened again. Exactly four hours after Janet had given him his last pain medication, Daniel woke up. The silence of the infirmary gathered around him and seeped into his pores.

"DanielJackson," Teal'c said, quietly from inside his shroud of shadows.

"Teal'c?"

"Would you care for something to eat or drink?"

"Um, no," Daniel said. He felt an emptiness, but didn't think it was hunger. Even if it were, he wasn't sure he deserved food. Daniel grasped the railing of his bed and winced.

"Are you experiencing pain?"

"No. Well, yeah, but it's...I'm fine." Daniel stared at the white bandages wrapped around his wrists, noticed how his hands trembled at the mere thought of the person flaring up in his memory. He closed his eyes tight and forced himself to breathe. "I killed her, Teal'c."

"I am aware of this, DanielJackson," Teal'c told him, moving to the end of Daniel's bed.

Daniel creased his forehead and strained to put into words the burden of his mind. "She was my friend."

"She was a Goa'uld."

"Yes. But she wasn't always a Goa'uld. Before I joined the SGC, she was my..." Daniel touched his finger to the bridge of his nose, beckoning Teal'c to give him a moment to collect his nerves. Visions of Sarah looking across a lab table flickered through his mind. Visions of Sarah glancing at him over her pillow toyed with him. "She was my..."

"She was your mate for a time," Teal'c gently offered.

"Yes. She was," Daniel forlornly said. "And now she's gone."

"She was dead when the Goa'uld took her as a host," Teal'c coldly said.

"How...How can you say that?" Daniel asked, straining to make sense of the madness. "We've seen it time and time again. Something of the host remains. Teal'c, she spoke freely to me. Sarah was very much alive."

"She spoke to you using words Osiris provided for her."

"I don't believe that."

"The part of Osiris that was your friend was a thing to be manipulated. A thing with which to manipulate you."

The harshness of Teal'c's candor stung Daniel. He responded in kind. "Did you believe that when you killed Sha're?"

The name pierced Teal'c's soul. The muscles in his jaw quivered. "Sha're was strong. Perhaps the strongest woman I have ever known."

"Yes, but, did you believe she was dead when you killed her?" Daniel asked more pointedly.

"I was aware only of the fact that her symbiote was in complete control, and that your life was in danger," Teal'c said, calmly. He stepped closer to Daniel. "Tell me, DanielJackson, how is it that you were able to kill Osiris?"

The challenge gripped unmercifully at Daniel's throat. He closed his eyes, felt his hands shake.

"Why did you not allow Osiris to kill you?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel couldn't answer the question. How could he? He had been asking himself the same question for days now and never found the answer.

"Teal'c, how...how do you find the...Do you take any comfort knowing that a Goa'uld is dead, and that you killed her?" Daniel whispered.

"I am unsure what you are asking."

"I need to know," Daniel began, his voice faltering slightly, "how to go on. How to get past this."

"You must proceed as I did. I sought out and received your forgiveness," Teal'c told him kindly. "It is time for you to seek the same."

"From whom? Sarah? I killed her," Daniel said, pulling his hands to his face.

"No, DanielJackson. From yourself."

The lash of self-reproach ripped into his body, causing him pain, agony, deep agony. He felt his body lurch between extremes: self-preservation and guilt, between bitter realization and convoluted memory. His skin began to crawl and burn, his throat began to close. He suppressed the urge to scream, but found he was losing the battle.

"My..."Daniel started, making sure his voice wouldn't betray his mounting panic. "My hands hurt. Would you..."

"I shall find a doctor," Teal'c said, leaving Daniel's side.

Daniel turned his face into his pillow, hoped it would mute his aching cries. The sound of Sarah's lilting voice bore into his skull. He pressed his hand to his ear. He felt his soul being eviscerated, scattered in harsh arid winds. Parts of him, whole parts of his mind flew away from him. Frightened, Daniel pulled himself into a ball, protected himself the best he could from further disintegration, and waited for the darkness of pain medication to whisk him away.

Dr. Agio injected Daniel's IV with pain killers.

The cool tingle entered Daniel's arm and coursed through to his shoulder.

Jack entered the room as the grasp of the sedative took hold of Daniel's mind.

"What's going on?" Jack asked, grabbing the doctor's elbow.

"Dr. Jackson was experiencing some discomfort. It's been over four hours since his last medication. I gave him something to make him more comfortable," Dr. Agio calmly replied, making a note of it in Daniel's chart, and then leaving the room.

"Daniel, you still with me?" Jack asked, pulling a stool up next to Daniel's side.

"Mmm."

"How ya feelin'?"

Daniel licked his lip slowly and swallowed. "Ask me later," Daniel whispered, feeling the effects of the medicinal relief. He could feel the muscles in his back relax; the tendons around his wrists go limp; his hands become still; the scorching guilt in his heart becoming extinguished. "Ask me..."

"I'll ask you in a couple hours," Jack said, watching Daniel's eyes glaze and shut. Teal'c stood silently at the end of the bed. "Teal'c, how was he before Dr. Feelgood drugged him?"

"He stated that his hands gave him pain."

"No, I mean, was...was he upset? What were you two talking about?"

"We were talking of Sarah Gardner and Amonet."

"Bingo."

"O'Neill?"

"He wasn't in pain, T. He just didn't want to think anymore," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. "Look, he's out of it. We should both get some rest."

"Indeed," Teal'c said, bowing his head and leaving his vigil at Daniel's side.

Jack crossed his arms across his chest and took in Daniel's sleeping figure, curled up on his side, his hands clutched under his chin. Jack could almost see his own face superimposed over Daniel's. The same wasted expression, the same defensive position, the same gratefulness for drugs that took away the pain.

And with that simple question, Jack was thrust into months of numbness, and the excruciating journey out from below the surface. It had almost cost him his career, his marriage, his life.

He wouldn't let Daniel fall into the same pattern.

He wouldn't let the SGC pacify Daniel like the Air Force allowed Jack to slip away.

"I just became your worst enemy, Danny. Hope someday you can forgive me," Jack said to Daniel's limp form.

*****

"Is there anything else anyone would like to add before ending this meeting?" General Hammond asked, looking across the table at SG-1 and Doctor Frasier.

"Yes, sir, actually I would like to say something," Jack said, raising a finger. "Now, before I begin, I want to preface my comments with an apology to those of you on whose toes I'm about to step."

"Duly noted, Colonel. Go on."

"Thank you, sir. It's about Daniel. Look, Doc, your staff has done a bang-up job getting him back on his feet. He's really starting to come around. Hell, he's even starting to piss me off, which is always a sign he's on the road to recovery. With that in mind," Jack said, taking a deep breath, tucking his chin under and squinting his eyes, "I'd like to see him try to get by on less pain medication."

"I agree," Janet said.

Jack held up his hand. "Now, I know he's been through a lot, and God knows he doesn't deserve to be in pain, but I think he's just using pain as an excuse to not have to think about the whole ordeal."

"Colonel, I..."

"Let's face it. Daniel has been through worse injuries and needed less drugs," Jack said, looking to General Hammond for a corroborating witness. "I'm just sayin' that..."

"Colonel O'Neill," Janet interrupted. Jack blinked. "I would respectfully ask you to shut up for a minute."

Sam and General Hammond lowered their faces to hide their amusement.

"I left orders with my staff to remove Dr. Jackson's IV and to administer Tylenol to him for pain management. I agree with your assessment, Colonel."

Jack looked stunned. "Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Oh. Well. Okay," Jack said, bobbing his head and holding up a finger. "There's another thing I'd like to suggest. Daniel's going home soon, but he's a little wigged out about seeing his wife. I know the rules about civilians on base, but, General, in this case, I gotta say..."

"I've already made arrangements for Dr. Jackson's wife to come on base day after tomorrow. We'll bring her through to the VIP room where she and Dr. Jackson can see each other," General Hammond told him.

Jack looked at Sam. "Did you know about this?"

"Um, yeah," she said, smiling and lifting her eyebrows.

"Well, then, I'm glad to see this is still a well-oiled machine," Jack said, flustered. He'd been ready for a fight. He didn't quite know what to do with the fighting spirit he had summoned for the conversation. He stood up, thanked everyone in the room, and asked permission to be excused, which he was granted.

Before leaving the room, he looked back, astonished.

"You're welcome, Colonel," General Hammond said.

Jack tapped the door jamb, scratched his head, and walked away.

Janet, General Hammond, Sam and Teal'c were left sitting at the long bi-colored table, nervously glancing at each other.

"I believe that went well," Teal'c finally said to break the silence.

Janet and Sam burst out laughing, slapping the table with their hands. General Hammond chuckled and drew circles on his note pad. Teal'c tented his fingers, rest them against his lips, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Indeed."

*****

The wheels were in motion. Corey was on her way to the SGC with Sam, General Hammond was making sure the guards at the gate knew of the visitor and that they treated her with utmost respect, and Jack was taking a fistful of aspirin to block the pounding in his head.

He didn't like deceiving Daniel by not telling him about the meeting. Didn't like it at all, but Jack knew there was no way of getting Daniel to the VIP room without keeping him in the dark.

Jack turned the corner to the infirmary, patted the stack of clothes he held, and adopted the most casual countenance he could muster.

It was a sight to which Jack and the others were becoming accustomed--Daniel dressed in a hospital gown with a dark blue Air Force robe to ward off the cold, sitting in the bedside chair, rocking slightly, picking at the skin on the side of his thumb.

Jack stood in the doorway watching him silently before proceeding.

"Morning," Jack said, tossing the clothes onto Daniel's bed.

Daniel looked up, startled, glanced at the clothes suspiciously. "What are those?"

"Uh, clothes," Jack said, sorting through the pile. "Your clothes. I stopped by your house this morning. Picked some up for you."

Daniel looked at Jack through veiled, angry eyes. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well, people were starting to talk," Jack said, hopping up on Daniel's bed. He twiddled his thumbs. "Word is your legs look better in those gowns than mine." Jack crinkled his nose and smirked. Daniel ignored him. "So whatta ya say I help you get dressed, and we go for a walk? Doctor's orders."

"You're not my doctor," Daniel bitterly reminded Jack. Daniel was frustrated by Jack's involvement in his recovery, angered by Jack's refusal to tell Janet that he needed something stronger than mere Tylenol for the pain. Sick to death of Jack's patronizing attitude. Madder than Hell with the constant haranguing and cajoling about how Daniel should really call Corey, just call her, talk with her, see what's going on. Sick of it all. Sick of Jack.

"You're right," Jack agreed. "I'm not your doctor, but Janet is, and she said you need to walk more."

Daniel nervously twisted his fingers, clenched his hands and pressed them against his cheek. Jack silently acknowledged that Daniel was trying desperately to stop the shaking, but his knees bounced up and down as fast as his hands shook.

"Come on," Jack said, hopping off the bed, grabbing the clothes. "I'll help you get dressed."

"That isn't necessary," Daniel muttered. He pushed himself up and out of the chair. Jack threw out a cautionary hand which Daniel shrugged off. "I can dress myself."

"Well, good. Then I'll just be..." Jack pointed to the door and began to step out of the room. "Call if you..."

Daniel glared at him.

"...I'll just..." Jack sputtered, leaving the room.

Outside the room, in the quiet hallway, Jack stood nervously against the wall, rubbing his temples, trying to keep the encroaching migraine from overtaking his skull. Memories of his ex-wife's face peeking around the door of his German infirmary room popped up in his mind.

Jack knew at that moment he would recover. He had to.

He hoped Daniel would find the same strength in his reunion with Corey.

He had to.

"Daniel? You almost done?" Jack called, resting his head against the wall.

After a long moment, Daniel answered back. "I...I need..."

Jack quickly stepped into the room. He saw Daniel attempting to button his shirt. His hands, though, shook too much to grasp the tiny pieces of smooth plastic. Jack pointed at the placket of the shirt, lifted his eyebrows asking for permission to carry on in Daniel's place.

"Hands a little stiff yet?" Jack asked, relieving Daniel of his buttoning responsibilities, and relieving Daniel of having to admit the truth.

Daniel, ashamed that he couldn't button his damn shirt by himself, never looked at Jack.

"I think we're good to go," Jack said when he was finished, lightly pressing down the front of Daniel's shirt. "You ready?"

Daniel shrugged his shoulders and slipped on his shoes.

"Let's walk," Jack said, motioning for Daniel to lead the way.

Slowly, Daniel took a few tenuous steps from the room. His back ached and spasmed occasionally. The cracked ribs made for a continuous dull pain. The trauma to his sinuses caused him to be vertiginous, and every once in a while he'd reach out for the wall to steady himself.

But it was his disposition, his silence, the almost constant trembling in his hands that concerned Jack the most. Jack kept his hands in his pockets, a simple gesture for Daniel's benefit that he trusted his friend to navigate the halls on his own. But with every wobble, with every slight teeter, Jack was ready to assist Daniel.

"So, you'll be going home soon," Jack said, finally bothered by the long walk in silence.

"So they tell me."

"Gotta be happy about that."

"So they tell me."

"Look, Daniel..."

"Where are we going?" Daniel asked Jack, drawing in his lower lip, looking around the halls, aware that their course was rather specific, not just a loop around the infirmary wing.

"Thought we'd go to the VIP room."

"Um...why?"

"I don't know. It's a place. A destination. A goal, if you will," Jack told him, nervously looking around the corner leading to the room, hoping they wouldn't run into Sam and Corey in the corridor.

Daniel paused at the door to the room, took in a shuddering breath. "Jack, why are we really here?"

Jack opened the door to show him that the room was empty--at least for the moment. "Thought you might like to get away from the infirmary for a while. Come on, Daniel. Humor me."

Daniel cautiously entered the room. Jack walked in behind him.

"Okay. I'm here. We've met our goal. Can we leave now?" Daniel asked, testily. He wrapped and rewrapped his arms around his chest, wanting nothing more than to escape to his bed. He was sure he could talk Janet into giving him a shot of something.

"Why don't we give it a few, huh?"

Daniel turned to Jack and glared at him. "You're a lousy liar, Jack. Tell me why we're here."

Jack nodded his head, scratched his cheek, and begrudgingly admitted the truth. "We thought you needed to see Corey before..."

"Corey?!" Daniel cried, throwing his hands out to his side. He scrambled to the corner of the room, a niche between the wall and the entertainment center. He pressed his frame into the small space, rounded in his shoulders, his eyes darting around the room. Daniel felt his heart pounding inside his chest, bursting against his ribs. The trembling in his hands became uncontrollable tremors. "God! Jack! No!"

"Look, Daniel, you need to see Corey before you go home," Jack tried to explain to him, keeping a comfortable distance between himself and Daniel. Daniel covered his ears and began to whimper.

"You need to see that she's not going to be afraid of your injuries, that it's okay for her to see you not at your best."

"God, Jack!" Daniel growled. "You are stupid! If you're gonna spout psycho-babble to me, at least have the courtesy of knowing what the hell you're talking about!" Daniel's entire frame quaked in fear.

"You're right. You're right. Why don't you tell me, then, what it is you're afraid of?"

"Go to hell," Daniel shouted. He felt his legs begin to buckle under him and grabbed hold of the entertainment center to keep from falling.

"Daniel, Corey is your wife. She just wants to see you," Jack said, taking incremental steps toward Daniel, concerned with his instability.

"No. No. You tell her, Jack...you tell her to leave!" Daniel yelled, pointing accusingly at Jack. Daniel pulled his hand back to his chest, grasped it in the other and turned his face miserably into the wall.

Jack noticed Daniel's knuckles had turned white from twisting and wrapping each hand around the other. He knew Daniel was on that bitter edge between maintaining control and jettisoning off the deep end. "Daniel, she wants to see you before you go home."

"Home," Daniel repeated, dourly. "What is home? A place to feel safe?" he asked, his expression mirroring the terror and desperation in his mind. His teeth chattered and his eyes twitched and flickered. Angry with himself for allowing another person to be caught in his burdensome life, but furious with Jack for not seeing the truth, he went on, "Corey isn't safe with me."

Jack was stunned. "What are you talking about?" he implored.

Daniel covered his face with his bandaged wrists. He had come this far in his confession to Jack, he felt he had nothing to lose if he let the rest spill out. Daniel rocked back and forth, tried to find the breath to go on.

Jack shook his head, absolutely unprepared for this admission. He blinked absently, tried to find some sense in Daniel's thought process, but found none. "Daniel. Why isn't Corey safe with you?"

Exasperated that he had to spell out the pitiful truth to Jack, Daniel threw his hands to his side and let out a long, defeated sigh. "Because I only bring death."

Jack's blood stood still, turned to ice. "Daniel, what the hell..."

"Don't you see, Jack?" Daniel wept, his eyes wild with hysteria. He began to gesticulate boldly as he cried. "I killed Sarah, and Sha're died because of me." He lowered his head and let a sob shake his body. "My parents--I could have warned them. I saw the chains give way." Daniel bore into Jack's heart with his anguished expression. "I could have...but I killed them, like I killed Sarah."

Jack, in his need to control the situation, began to reach out for Daniel. "Daniel, what are you..."

Daniel held up his palsied hands to stop Jack's question and advancement. He sucked in a raspy breath before explaining. "Yes, she was dead, but I killed her. Don't you see that, Jack? Just like Sha're died, only I couldn't keep her alive, so I let her die," he cried. Years and months of guilt boiled down to this intense distillation of emotion. His shoulders jumped with sudden, percussive breaths.

Jack began to panic at the rapidly deteriorating situation. He took hold of Daniel's hot, tear-streaked face and tried to bring him back to some semblance of clarity. "Danny, listen to me..."

"...and Corey will die, too, because my parents were crushed..." he cried, tugging at Jack's shirt with sweaty hands, clawing over and over at the black knit material. "And it's me. And it's because of me. And there's nothing I can do about it. Because it's me." Daniel's knees finally could hold no longer. He crumpled to the ground, pulling Jack down with him. He wept uncontrollably, loud and long, the pitiful sounds muted by the crook of his arm.

Jack crouched in front of Daniel, breathless as his mind futilely tried to sort out the crazed information. He slowly reached for Daniel's hands and grasped them in his own trembling hands, overwhelmed by the severity and depth of Daniel's sorrow. Jack tried to release Daniel's hold from his shirt, stretched and misshapen by Daniel's despairing grip.

"Please, Jack," Daniel cried, weakly pounding Jack's chest. "Please, don't bring her here."

"I'm already here, Daniel," Corey softly said, standing a few feet behind Jack.

Daniel locked eyes with Jack, tried to communicate his absolute horror. He shook his head back and forth, muttered, "No no no no no."

Jack's heart ripped open, bled in shared panic with Daniel. This plan suddenly and unexpectedly was turning out to be a nightmare, a living, breathing thing of horror. All Jack could try to do was to keep Daniel from physically hurting himself; keep him from sliding further into the airless void of despair.

Jack cupped Daniel's face in his hands and felt Daniel's pulse racing through his temples. "Calm down, Daniel," Jack whispered, moving one hand to the back of Daniel's neck, rubbing the trembling, tense muscles. "Calm down."

Daniel glared at him and grabbed Jack's wrists. Jack quickly glanced at the rigid tendons of the hands that tightened around his arms. Daniel clenched his jaws and demanded huskily, "Get her out of here. I'm begging you, Jack."

"Daniel, just...just..." he began, his thoughts muddled by the tumultuous situation. Jack tried to find the words. He could only hold Daniel's tearful focus, helplessly.

"Dammit, Jack!" Daniel cried.

"I'll go. I'll leave," Corey said, sadly nodding her head. She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, tried to stop the tears. "I just wanted to see you. Wanted to tell you I love you."

Daniel slapped Jack's hands away, turned his face into his shoulder, and pressed his hands to his head, wishing he could disappear.

Jack sat heavily back on his legs. He covered his eyes with one hand and reached impotently for the floor, dizzy from the outburst.

Corey hastily stepped back, shocked by Daniel's behavior.

Daniel crushed his eyes shut, refused to let her sight, her voice penetrate his mind.

Corey took in the bandages on Daniel's wrists, wounds that Sam had warned her about. Sam didn't warn her about his emotional state. She didn't think Sam was aware of it, because when she looked back to gain some strength from her, Sam was crying and looking as confused and scared as she felt.

Corey took a deep breathe and turned back to her husband. She cleared her throat and tried, really tried to stay calm. "I brought you something," she said, putting her hand in her pocket. She looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears to slide back into their ducts. Sniffled. She pulled out Daniel's wedding ring and held it in her palm. The simple gold band glinted in her trembling hand. Remembering how proud she was to have him first wear it, remembering the wonderful feel of it on his finger as he ran his hand over her body, Corey felt more fervent and bitter tears pouring from her eyes.

She looked at the dejected, unfamiliar frame of the man cowering before her. She didn't know whether to give the ring to him or leave it on the table. "You left it at home before you...I thought you might want to..." She grasped the ring, the symbol of her unending love, to her chest and could almost feel the rending of her heart.

Daniel never even glanced at what she held. Didn't want to see it. Wanted the walls and the furniture to burst into flame and consume him in its merciful fire. He pulled hard at his hair, hoped the pain would replace the agony of hearing her cry.

Jack edged away slowly, coming to rest against the adjacent wall. He looked up at Sam and shook his head sorrowfully, gestured to her that he didn't understand, and then dropped his face into his hands.

Tears usurped Corey's voice, made it impossible for her to say the things she wanted to say to her husband. She knelt down in front of him, reached out her hand to gently put the ring in his, saw how he recoiled at her presence, and remorsefully pulled back. She dropped her head and scrubbed the top of her thighs. She didn't want Daniel to hear her crying. Didn't want to add to his anguish.

"I just miss you, you know?"

Daniel's body trembled. He forced the sound of her voice out of his mind and replaced it with a constant silent repetition of "goawaygoawaygoaway..."

Corey pushed herself to her feet and pressed her fingers to her lips, not knowing what to do next, what to say next, how to breathe, what was to happen to her marriage. She spun around, seeking something, anything from Sam.

Sam stepped to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Why don't we take a break?" Sam spoke in a voice heavy with emotion.

Corey shook her head, lifted her open, vulnerable palms to the futility of the situation, and agreed to leave with Sam.

Corey paused at the door, turned sadly to him, and said, "Call me if you need..." She shook her head, unable to say anything more. Nothing else would matter. She laid Daniel's wedding band on the table and silently left the room.

Jack held his forehead like a vise between his fingers. Blood raced through veins that felt constricted. His head throbbed. He looked over at the tight form pressed desperately into the corner, tremulous and silent.

"Jesus, Daniel," Jack breathed. He laid a hand on his chest, felt his own heart punching at his sternum. "Jesus."

"See how much pain I bring?" Daniel whispered. There was acrid affirmation in his voice. Surely Jack would understand now, understand why Daniel couldn't be with Corey.

"Dammit, Daniel," Jack muttered, pressing hard against his temple.

"Just take me back to the infirmary, Jack."

The infirmary, Jack repeated silently. Yeah, I'll take you back to the infirmary. I'll take you back to your safe little bed where you can curl up and pretend this never happened. Jack shook his head and decided he wouldn't let Daniel off that easily.

Daniel was in trouble, deep and dark, and Jack wasn't going to allow him to stay in that place where madness festers, where self-doubt becomes a guiding principle. No. Jack took a deep breath and promised himself that, do or die, he would drag Daniel out of that abysmal place.

"Why do you want to go back to the infirmary?" Jack quietly asked.

"I don't feel well," Daniel said, slowly raising himself, grasping ineffectively at the delicate moldings on the cabinet, calmed to a certain extent that Corey was gone and that Jack most certainly could understand his pain. He had to.

"You hurting?" Jack asked in a low growl, his resolve increasing with each passing second. He stood to his full height in front of Daniel.

"Yes," Daniel admitted. His skull throbbed. Every nerve seemed to flare with pain. Tiny bursts of light skittered across his vision.

Jack reached into his pocket and tore out a bottle of Tylenol. He ripped open the bottle and slapped out two tablets. "Here. Take these."

Daniel, finally on his feet and able to take a few wobbling steps toward the door, angrily looked at the white pills in Jack's hand and shook his head. "Don't want them. Take me back." He tried to step around Jack.

"What do you think they're going to give you in the infirmary, Daniel?" Jack asked, blocking Daniel's desperate exit. Jack tossed the bottle and the pills onto the bed. He wanted Daniel in a corner--physically and emotionally.

Daniel enfolded his arms around his chest and dropped his eyes as the uncontrollable tremors began again. "Jack, just let me go."

"No, Daniel. Not until you tell me what the hell just went on in here," Jack demanded. He leaned precariously close to Daniel, challenging him, physically confronting him, knowing Daniel's aversion to having people too close.

And just as expected, Daniel shied away, stumbled backwards. He felt the panic and fear rising again in his chest. He avoided looking at Jack. "I want to go back to the infirmary."

"Why's that, Daniel?" Jack asked, pressing,

"Just...Jack, I need..."

"What, Daniel? What do you need?" Jack asked, lowering his head to place his face directly in

Daniel's line of vision.

Daniel quickly turned away. "Don't..."

"You think they're gonna give you something there? Something to take away the pain?" Jack asked, stepping ever closer to Daniel, purposefully entering Daniel's personal space. He wanted Daniel in a place where he couldn't hide, where he had to face his own fears. Where Jack could catch him if he tried to run, or hold him if he started to crumble.

"I just want to go back to my room, Jack," Daniel whined, his voice becoming childlike, petulant.

"Why won't you let me go back there?" He blindly felt for obstructions behind him. Found nothing on which to fall or support himself. Tried with what was left of his strength not to be moved by Jack.

"You're at a crossroad here, Danny-boy. Right here! Right now!" Jack told Daniel, his voice crackling. He stepped closer. "It's time to choose. You wanna go back to the infirmary and wallow, or do you wanna cut out this bullshit and regain your life?" Come on, Danny. Fight me!

Daniel shook his head, took a stumbling step backwards, closed his eyes. "No. No. No."

"Come on, Daniel. Choose!" Jack barked. Daniel flinched. "I'll do whatever you say, but you gotta make the choice."

How could he make Jack understand? How could he explain the agony? Daniel stared frantically at Jack, and then doubled over and began to moan. Pain. Biting, clawing pain imprisoned him, bound him in spiraling horror. He coughed and sputtered, barely contained the desperation boiling just below the surface. "I need something!"

Jack grabbed Daniel by the shoulders and forced him up straight. Jack bobbed and weaved, trying to make Daniel meet his eyes. "Tell me what you need, Daniel!"

Having hands upon him, even those of his friend, sent Daniel scrambling terrified to the wall. His eyes were round and wild with fear. "I CAN'T STAND THIS!!"

"THEN CHOOSE, DAMMIT!!" Jack bellowed.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??!!" Daniel screamed, bumping up against the wall. He turned to the cold concrete and clawed at it with his bandaged hands.

Jack stopped, pinched at the cables at the back of his neck, and took a deep breath, tried to re-group. He was terrified of losing Daniel. Terrified as well of bringing Daniel to the ragged edge of personal epiphany. Hoped to God he was doing the right thing.

"Daniel," Jack began, his voice softened. "Choose. Corey or the drugs?"

Daniel spun around, pressed his back and head to the wall, held his aching hands at his sides. "IT HURTS!" he screamed, sorrow and fear running through his pitiful wailing, viscerally feeling the stabbing pain of loss.

"Choose," Jack growled, sensing that an explosion was at hand. He prayed that he would be able to contain it.

"I DON'T WANT THIS PAIN!! DO YOU THINK I WANT THIS PAIN?!" Daniel bellowed, unconsciously ripping at his own shirt.

"All you have to do is choose, Danny," Jack said, pressing closer, forcing a confrontation.

"LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!!

"I WILL WHEN YOU CHOOSE, GOD DAMMIT!! BRING HER BACK AND END THIS!!"

"NO!!"

"CHOOSE!!"

"I CAN'T!!"

"CHOOSE!!" Jack ordered, grabbing Daniel suddenly by the front of his shirt, blistering Daniel with tearfully demanding eyes. Jack looked at his fisted hands clutching the unyielding material, pulling it tight around Daniel's shoulders and chest. Jack yanked at the shirt with what was left of his anger, anger that was rapidly giving way to despair. "Choose!"

Daniel stood shocked, his eyes overflowing with tears. His mouth stuck open, choking on his inability to breathe. Daniel wobbled listlessly as Jack shook him.

"Daniel," Jack began, containing a sob that was building in his chest. "Christ almighty, choose."

Daniel trembled under Jack's clenched hands. Tears careened down his face.

"I'm scared," he choked, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Jack tried to stop the progression, but could only aid in Daniel's descent.

Daniel pulled his knees to his chest, tried to disappear, tried to let the carpeted floor bury him. He gulped at air, became enveloped in fear.

Jack knelt down next to Daniel, pressed the heels of his hands into his wet eyes, and rocked as he listened to Daniel cry. He felt inept, crushed. He wiped his face and stared at the ceiling, praying for guidance. "Daniel. Listen to me. It's over. There's no way you or anyone else can hurt Corey. Let her back in. You hear me?"

Daniel kicked at Jack, slapped away at a blurred figure beyond his focus. "Leave me alone!" he wailed, crawling back to his corner, his chest heaving with gasping sobs. He rested his throbbing head on his knees.

"I know what it's like, Daniel," Jack told him, his vision obscured by tears. "You were in so much pain, and all you wanted was your wife, but the thought of her--hell, you could smell her skin, and it made the pain worse. I know."

"Leave me alone," Daniel wept.

Jack moved closer, slowly. He took in a shaking breath before going on. "So you blocked her out of your mind. Forced yourself not to think about her, about the way her hair feels in your hands, about the way her voice...how it makes your legs go weak with joy." One more inch. One more tear. "And you were so tired back there, Daniel. I know. So tired that it made sense to wish her away," Jack said. He closed the gap between himself and Daniel.

"But you'd lie there, bleeding, crying, and all you wanted, despite trying to get her out of your mind, was...your wife. You wanted her arms wrapped around you. You wanted her to whisper in your ear, feel her breath. I know, Daniel." Jack smoothed down the tussled, sweaty hair on the top of Daniel's head. "And your mind was splitting in two, trying to shut her out, trying to remember the color of her eyes. Everyday that passed, every beating you took made it worse. The more you pushed her away...the more about her you forced yourself to forget, the more you needed her." Jack lowered his head to Daniel's and allowed his tears to seep into Daniel's hair. "She was your lifeline, but you didn't want her to sink with you. I know."

Daniel reached weakly for Jack's hands, never lifting his face from his knees. Crumbling, quaking, Daniel needed an anchor, because he felt himself adrift, caught between ports in a roiling sea.

"And all you could think about was 'God, if she knew what I was capable of, she'd leave me. I can't let that happen, so I won't let her in.' What you were capable of was staying alive. There's nothing wrong with that, Daniel," Jack said, breathlessly. "Corey will never find fault with that."

"I'm scared," Daniel cried.

Jack moved his hands to the side of Daniel's face and gently, slowly tilted it up. Jack looked deep into Daniel's liquid blue eyes. "I know you are. But you're scared because you're not letting go of your survival instinct. You don't need it anymore, Danny. Daniel, please, let it go."

Daniel shook his head back and forth, regripped Jack's hands.

"You're lost without her, Daniel. You need her. And you know that," Jack softly told him, his voice wavering from tears. "You can't keep pushing her away, Daniel. She's your wife."

"I don't know what to do," Daniel mewled before dropping his face back into his knees.

"You have to choose, Daniel. You have to choose," Jack told him. Tension twisted at the muscles between his shoulders, sent stabbing pains through his back. Jack's chest bucked with tears. "Come on, Danny. What is it you need? What will bring you back, take away all that pain that's in there?"

Daniel rocked in a tight ball. He shivered with despair, wept with abandon. His throat became raw from guttural sobs, thick with swollen anguish. Unformed words, percussive and unarticulated sounds, left his mouth.

Jack's heart hitched as he excavated a word from out of Daniel's cavernous agony-- a hard consonant amongst the awful breathy cries.

"Say it again, Daniel."

The word pushed itself forward, through jarring sobs, through a cracked and ravaged voice.

Jack slowly, carefully pulled Daniel's face up from his knees, crouched lower to meet his eyes, and beckoned him to repeat the word. "Again, Danny. Say it again."

Daniel's jaw quivered; he panted for breath; his face glistened with tears. Like a drowning man hanging on to a rope, Daniel clamped down on Jack's arms. His lips formed the word, circled around the vowel, and, stuttering, overcome by the power of it, let the need for it consume him.

"C-C-C-orey," he cried, falling into Jack's chest.

Jack cloaked him in his protective embrace, let tears of bitter relief spill down his cheeks. "Say it again, Daniel."

"Corey!" he sobbed, calling out to her, to his life, to all that he pushed away in that cold, dark room.

Jack pulled Daniel in closer. He hoped if only he held him tight enough, Daniel would be able to stop shaking. That Jack's arms would somehow put back into place all the misaligned, out of balance pieces.

"Again, Daniel."

The love he had forced into a protected, secret enclosure would be caged no longer. It burst from him, gaining strength as it demanded admittance to the light. Daniel tore at the front of Jack's shirt, threw back his head, sucked in a rasping breath, and bore out the name in a feral, primal scream.

"COREY!!"

"Good," Jack wept, rocking him, soothing Daniel, soothing himself. Feeling the reverberations of the screams all through Daniel's trembling body.

"COREY!!" Daniel howled, hurting and destroyed, feeling the entirety of his experience on Osiris' ship, letting the enormity of his pain, his guilt, his loss consume him.

"Corey!" he repeated, gasping. "Corey!"

Her name, the need for her, wracked his body with blinding pain. He wept uncontrollably. He ached with exigency.

"Yes," Jack whispered, stroking Daniel's hair, giving into his own decade-old fears. Acquiescing to his latent grief and repressed memories. "Let it go, Daniel. It's okay."

Seeing his anguish for the first time as a bottomless abyss, sucking him in, Daniel dissolved into Jack's embrace and grasped at the intangible hope of love.

"Corey..."

Afraid of the future, but terrified to stay in the past, Daniel began the arduous journey out of the underworld.

*****