• SPOILERS: minor for the movie, Children of the Gods, Need, Cor-ai
• SUMMARY: On a world with only one medieval village, the Lord of the manor rules supreme. That's a problem when he has an ugly habit, and Daniel catches his eye.
• R [H/C] [A/A] violence, language, rape of a major character, inference of child abuse

PART I--LORD OF THE MANOR

"Early medieval," Daniel said at once, staring down the narrow road.  There were stalls on either side, women sitting beside their wares--pots and pans, cloth, baked goods, vegetables, eggs, live ducks and chickens.   Men led a few scrawny donkeys along the market, laden with panniers of sticks and straw.   Ramshackle houses, none more than two stories, were crammed in behind the stalls.  Children chased each other, shrieking, in, out and around alleyways, buildings and stalls.   In the distance loomed a much larger building made of old stone.

"A castle!" Samantha breathed, stopping to admire it.

"A manor house," Daniel corrected.  "Not a very big one, either."

"Compared to the rest of these buildings, it's enormous," Sam retorted, shoving her pack sideways on her back.  Somehow she'd managed to distribute the weight unevenly back at the SGC--a nuisance, even though they rarely trekked far on these missions.  The Stargate wasn't even a mile behind them.   This dusty excuse for a road had passed right in front of it--evidence that the Goa'uld hadn't come marauding on this planet for a long, long time.

Jack said nothing, watching the people as SG-1 came closer.  There was still a cacophony of noise from animals and humans, but a certain watchfulness was apparent, a drawing away from the strangers.

"Normal," Daniel murmured, smiling at a toothless old woman as she hastily threw her shawl across her face.  A younger woman, pretty except for the smudges on her face from the wood fire she'd been tending, got up hastily and grabbed a small boy as he scooted past her.   She carried the youngster, protesting volubly, into a nearby doorway, and did not reappear.   Other presumed parents were snatching their children and vanishing; Daniel hastily buttonholed a young man who couldn't easily disappear, as he held a donkey by the bridle.  "Hello!  I'm Daniel, this is Carter, O'Neill and Teal'c."  The young man stared and muttered something; Daniel strained his ears, hoping not to hear Middle or Old English.  He could read either of those, but he couldn't speak them well.   "We are travelers from a far country," he added, speaking very slowly and clearly.

"You should not come here," the young man said, only slightly louder, but Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Why not?" Jack asked, wanting to hear the worst immediately.  A single narrow road, a maze of houses on either side, narrow alleyways--not a great place to be caught if the natives turned hostile.   The young man gulped and gripping the leather bridle tightly, shoved his way past them.  Jack smiled brightly at a middle-aged woman who stood studying them, ignoring the squawking fowl at her feet.  "We're only visiting," he said.  "Just passing through."

"You come--from the stone circle?"

"The Stargate, yes," Daniel said.  "You know of it?"

The woman snorted, seeming to relax.   "Of course.   Did not my mother's mother's mother talk of nothing else?   When the strangers came, the Goa'uld.   The slavers."   A bleak expression crossed her face.

"Your mother's mother's mother," Jack repeated.  "Uh, that would have been--?"

"Many years ago.   Before I was born," the woman said.  "From what my grandame said, you are not like them.  They were giants in armor, and they shot fire from their fingertips."   She snorted again.  

"Uh, your grand--dame was speaking the truth," Daniel said.  "But if the Goa'uld haven't come here since, you're probably safe."

The woman sighed.   "Thomas was right, you should not be here.   You should go."

"Well, but we'd like to study your culture for a while--a day or so.  We won't inconvenience you," Daniel protested.   It was all too clear that Jack agreed with the woman.   There wouldn't be any advanced technology in this society to help them against the Goa'uld, and no one needed rescuing from them, either.  Jack was making let's-go-kids gestures.  There were a lot of planets with Stargates to visit that would prove more useful than this one.  Daniel scowled his disappointment.  A living medieval culture would be so interesting!  Not his field, but still--

A black-armor-clad figure was clanking toward them.  Sam giggled.   Goa'uld armor was much more flexible.   This man didn't wear an animal-shaped headdress; his head was bare except for a red cloth cap.   He was scowling, and he hadn't been a thing of beauty before the scowl.

"Who are these people, Tessa?" he barked at the woman.  She didn't seem to take offense at the tone, only stifled a sigh and inclined her head courteously.  Or, Daniel wondered, subserviently?  Knights, or the approximation here, were certainly above the caste of a common merchant.

"They are travelers from afar, Sir Hugh," she murmured.  The knight turned his scowl on Samantha, Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c, impartially.

"What business do you have here?"

"Uh, I'm Daniel--" Daniel introduced them all again, less politely this time.   The knight wasn't exactly Sir Galahad.   "We're merely interested in your customs."

"Our customs?"   The knight turned red.   Jack frowned.   Although he was carrying a submachine gun--among other armament--and the knight merely had a six-foot sword in a scabbard at his belt, he was too conscious of their small number. 

"No offense," he said curtly.  "In fact, I think we've decided to leave immediately."

"Oh, but Hugh!"   A smaller knight had come up behind his fellow, a knight with a pointed goatee and the light of mischief in his eyes.  "Lord Stephen will be so disappointed.  He loves company, and receives so little."  He clapped Sir Hugh on the shoulder with a chain-mail glove, a little harder than the comradely gesture required, and beamed brilliantly at SG-1.   "Please, forgive my friend.   He's so protective of Lord Stephen.   I--" he swept a graceful bow.   "Am Sir Marus.   Do accept the hospitality of our master's hall."

Instinctively Jack's eyes swept left, toward the merchant, Tessa, who hadn't raised her eyes again during the entire exchange.  She might have been a slightly bent votive statue.  And Daniel's eyes were like a kid seeing a puppy in a shop window right before Christmas.   Jack sighed.   "Uh--for a short visit, we'd be delighted."

"Oh, but you must dine with us!   We have marvelous entertainment at our festal meals."  Sir Marus was a head shorter than Jack, but he managed to herd all four SG-1 members toward the manor house with the smoothness of a sheep dog.   Sir Hugh stalked behind them, grumbling.

"So, how many knights are there at your places?" Jack asked Marus.

"Forty, good knights and true," Marus said promptly, but made a face.  Jack frowned, noticing that Hugh couldn't have seen it, wondered what was up between them.

"I'd love to see your horses," Samantha told Marus enthusiastically.  He blinked at her, as did Jack.

"Hoar-ses?" the knight said slowly.  "I do not understand."

"Horses, you know, steeds, mounts--"  Samantha looked from Sir Marus to Sir Hugh, bewildered.  Sir Hugh contrived to look both haughty and confused.

"We do not have--mounts."

"Well, how do you travel--from one place to another?  As knights?"

"We--march," Sir Hugh snapped, blinking.

"But it must take you a long time to get from place to place."

Sir Hugh opened his mouth and closed it.  He frowned at Sir Marus.

"We don't go--from place to place.  We are not wanderers--we are in service to Lord Stephen."  He spoke to her gently, as to a slow child.  It was Sam's turn to open her mouth and then close it.

"Knights, without horses," Daniel murmured to Jack.  "I've never heard of that."

"Maybe they don't go out, conquering and Crusading," Jack said.  "Could be an improvement."

Both knights stared at him.   Conversation lapsed.

They were on a paving-stone path now, narrower even than the hardpacked dirt road, and curving serpentlike between six-foot-high stone walls, leading to a massive arched door in the stone wall surrounding the manor house.  Daniel eyed the huge stone blocks with interest.  "Quite an engineering feet, building these walls."

"We have stories that it took many years, the labor of many peasants," Sir Marus said proudly.   "It has stood like this for more than a century."

"Uh-huh," Daniel nodded, uncomfortable with the forced-labor idea, and wondering what the peasants' stories said.

They passed through the arch and into a paved courtyard.  A real medieval manor would have a large stable nearby, and possibly a rookery for raptors; here were merely two one-story wings to a three-story stone house.   There was a smithy at the back, through yet another arched gate; several large sweaty soot-streaked men were moving around a fire and bellows.  So they worked metal.   Well, the knights' armor and swords were proof of that.

Another bearded man was approaching, in height between Marus and Hugh, a couple of inches shorter than Samantha.   He was a little older than his knights, not much, about Jack's age of early forties.  He was slim, which was odd in a medieval culture; they considered a paunch a sign of prosperity.  But his rich velvet robe of forest green, huge gold medallion, and many jeweled rings, were evidence enough.  He was smiling, good teeth showing.  "Welcome, travelers!  I am Lord Stephen Duchamps, honored by your company.  Have my knights shown you good welcome?"

"Uh, they've been--polite," Jack said cautiously.  "I'm Jack O'Neill, this is--"  He introduced his team again.  Everyone noted the consternation in Lord Stephen's face when he looked up--and up--at Teal'c.   But when the Jaffa merely bowed courteously, he turned his attention to Samantha.

"Forgive my boldness, but I believe--you are a woman?"

Both knights stared at Samantha.

"Yes, I am," Sam said, ignoring the stares.

"We do not see women dressed--um--as you."

"These are my traveling clothes," Samantha said.  If these people never traveled....

"Oh," Stephen said.   "Well.  You would honor my house if you accepted--that is, I will give a banquet in your honor, and we do expect--uh, everyone--to be fittingly dressed."  He studied the team, blinking again at Teal'c.  "I think I have clothing to accommodate everyone."

"That really isn't necessary," Jack said, trying not to frown at Stephen's ankle-length robe.

"I must insist."

"I mean, uh, the banquet isn't necessary."

Lord Stephen and both knights scowled.   Lord Stephen's eyes locked on Jack's.   "You refuse my hospitality?"

Something told Jack that if he said yes, the swords would leave their scabbards.  Sir Hugh's hand was twitching on the pommel of his.   Daniel cleared his throat hastily.

"No, no, we would be--honored--by your hospitality."  He smiled.   Lord Stephen smiled back, cautiously.   Sir Hugh's hand left the hilt of his sword as if burned.  Stephen gestured graciously toward the front door of the house. With various degrees of reluctance, SG-1 preceded him inside.

"For the love of Pete," Jack complained some half an hour later, after a quick tour of some of the grander first-floor rooms and a promenade up a God-awful narrow stone stairway to a second-floor wardrobe room.  One of Stephen's servants, a boy about sixteen in doublet and hose--hose!--had bowed them all inside.  When assured that SG-1 needed no assistance changing, he had closed the door after them.   The room was certainly big enough--at least thirty by twenty--and contained three six-foot mirrors and at least ten chests of clothing and accessories.  It also contained two ornately carved screens, one of which Sam promptly appropriated to change behind.  Jack picked up a long robe in scarlet and gold silk and retched.  "This is for a man?"

"They liked colorful clothes in medieval times," Daniel smiled.  For himself, the robes reminded him of Abydos and he was content.   He found a peacock blue girdled by a twisted rope of a belt and took off his pack and jacket.

"You're not--really--"

"We can wear the robes over our T-shirts and pants," Daniel said patiently.   "And boots.  Footwear isn't important, it was catch-as-catch can."

"Oh.  Well, that's okay then."  Grudgingly, Jack picked through the open trunks and came across a navy-blue velvet sparingly decorated with metallic silver thread.   His eyebrows went up.   "Hm.  That's not bad."  He shrugged off pack and jacket, while Daniel turned away to hide a smile.

"Pants and boots, sure, but I can't wear a T-shirt under this," Samantha said, emerging from behind the screen.  Three pairs of male eyes swiveled her way, and all of them widened.  Samantha had chosen velvet too, with long tight sleeves.   But the bodice was cut vanishingly low.

"Pink--uh--suits you," Jack said.

"At least it's tight enough, I don't have to attempt their version of a corset," Samantha said, and shuddered.

"You'll be the belle of the ball," Daniel said, and walking over with a swing of his peacock robe, offered her a courtly arm.  Samantha smiled sweetly and turned to Jack.

"What do we do with the weapons, Colonel?" she asked.

Jack patted the sides of his robe, feeling for pockets, and finding none, grimaced.  "Sidearms in belt holsters, whatever we can carry in pants pockets.   Leave the P-90s here, under our clothing.  Daniel, is there some kind of etiquette that says they won't go through our things?"

Daniel shook his head.   "No.  He's got status on us, we're no threat to him, so he can do whatever he wants."

"Sweet."

"Uh, we can wear our knives openly, on the belts.  We'll probably need them to cut our meat, anyway."

Jack nodded, finding his knife in its leather case attached not too awkwardly to the velvet sash.   Samantha found the six-inch blade stuck out from her dainty cord belt at a ridiculous angle, but rolled her eyes and lived with it.  Teal'c, in crimson velvet, looked regal even though the robe, which should have brushed his ankles, ended at his calves.  At least it was full enough so that if he'd wanted to, he could have hung a P-90 from his belt and gotten away with it.  But the staff weapon he carried instead went fine with the culture, and he took it with him.

The Great Hall wasn't all that huge--possibly fifty feet across, twenty wide, but then this was a manor, not a castle, Daniel reminded himself.  It was decked out in proper style, aromatic rushes on the floor, massive wooden table parallel to the shorter, more elegantly dressed table at the head of the room.   They were escorted at once to the head table, which had a white linen cloth and golden candlesticks, and Jack and Daniel were placed on either side of the Lord himself--a major mark of favor, in accord with his hospitality.  Teal'c was on the opposite side of Jack, Samantha beside Daniel.  Musicians in the gallery above them plaid a lilting air.   Daniel smiled.

"You like the music?" Lord Stephen asked, leaning over to make himself heard.   There were at least twenty people feasting at the common table in front of them, and the noise level was worse than at the open market.

"Yes, very much.   What's it called?" Daniel asked.   He thought he recognized 'Flowers of the Forest' and was very interested in how the Scottish tune had migrated to P73427.

     "Flowers of the Forest," Lord Stephen said promptly.

"Really. I would love to talk to your musicians."

Lord Stephen raised an eyebrow, and Daniel remembered that musicians were lower-class.  "Perhaps later," the lord said dismissively.   He leaned closer to Daniel's face, and touched his glasses lightly.  "What is this?"

"Eyeglasses.   They help me see better."  Daniel thought he might have come closer to knowing when this village had been stolen by the Gou'uld; on Earth, eyeglasses had been in use since 1289.

"How interesting.   You must tell me all about where you have come from."

He rested a hand on Daniel's arm, and it was the younger man's turn to raise an eyebrow.   But possibly Stephen was a tactile person, like Jack.

"I'd much rather hear about yours.  Do you have schools here, for the children?"

Stephen blinked.   "Schools?  What is that?"

"Or tutors?   To teach the children.  Reading, writing, sums--"

"We do not have such things."  Stephen smiled.   "My father taught me, everyone's father teaches his son what he must know."

"And what is it you learn?"

"Why, administration, hunting, tracking, weaponry--"  Lord Stephen waved a hand.  "If one is in trade, joinery or weaving or metalwork, or whatever one's trade is."   He smiled again.   "And of course, if one is a girl, one learns cooking, sewing, gardening, animal husbandry, from one's mother."

"Ah."   Medieval society all right, totally stratified--and stagnant.  No reading or writing at all.  Like Abydos.

"You are gentry, Daniel?"

"Uh, well, our society is not organized like that.  We go by--profession."

"Profession?   You mean trade?"

"Not exactly.   You don't have our categories--for example, I learn, and teach."

Stephen stared at him.   "You spend all your time doing this?  You must be wealthy!"

"Ah, no--"   Daniel looked past his host to see Jack, obviously eavesdropping and grinning like a fiend.   He focused on Stephen again.  "People ask me to teach them things, and pay me for it.   And I pay people, sometimes, to teach me things."

"How odd."   Daniel would have warmed more to the conversation, if he hadn't felt Stephen's knee nudge into his thigh under the table.  The man was coming on to him.   Daniel's face reddened and he moved away as far as possible, which wasn't very far with Samantha on his other side.   He shot her a look and puzzled but acquiescent, she shifted over a few inches on the bench.   Hastily he closed the gap.   But as he might have expected, Stephen didn't take the hint.  He shifted in turn, locking his dark eyes onto Daniel's blue ones.   "What things do you learn, and teach?"

Jack, abruptly finding himself with room to spare next to Stephen, sent a questioning look to Daniel.   Daniel swallowed and semaphored with his eyebrows.  Jack shook his head slightly in return.  He didn't get it.   Daniel smiled weakly at Stephen.

"I l-look for very old objects, and try to explain their purpose."

"Really!"   Stephen looked pleased.   He shifted away a little, and Daniel slumped in relief.  "I collect very old objects.  Some of them have no meaning to me, but I like to wonder about them."

"Seems you've got a brother in arms," Jack said agreeably.

     "Would you like to see these things?  Perhaps you can explain them to me."

Daniel swallowed again.   To refuse would be unforgivably rude.   On the other hand, this sounded too much like, 'would you like to see my etchings?' "I--uh--haven't been here long enough to know much about your culture."

"I am sure you could hazard more of a guess than I."  Stephen was gracefully extricating himself from the table.  "Please come."

"Uh, Samantha," Daniel said, seizing a way out.  "She's very interested in old things, too," he told Stephen, who frowned.   "Just like my wife.   They're both fascinated by old things."

"Sure," Samantha said, beginning to struggle over the bench.  She was still puzzled--there was a false note here somewhere, Daniel normally would be delighted to accept such an invitation.  But if he wanted her to go--

"What's the rush?" Jack asked, eyes narrowed.  He read Daniel's look of desperation and couldn't understand it either.  Daniel was the one who'd wanted to study the culture.   But if he didn't want to go--   "How about we finish eating, then all go?  I like old things myself.   Right, Teal'c?"

Teal'c looked from Daniel Jackson to Colonel O'Neill and restrained his eyebrow.  "Correct, O'Neill."

"We won't be long.   Half an hour at the most," Stephen assured them.  "I won't hear of you all missing your repast.  But if this is Daniel's profession, it is meat and drink to him, yes?"   He laughed gaily.   Daniel didn't even smile.  Jack blinked.  This Stephen wasn't a Goa'uld.  The top of his head was even with Daniel's nose, and Daniel definitely outweighed him by thirty pounds.  He couldn't see the danger in half an hour of the guy's company.

"Daniel, is that a problem for you?" he said directly, meeting the younger man's eyes. Because if it is, he added silently, we're out of here.  I've got a grenade in my pocket, and I bet Carter's got two.   So spit it out.

After more than two years with SG-1, Daniel could read that look and the intention behind it.   He sighed.  He could, if worse came to worst, truss up his lordship and come down to escape with his friends.  He doubted if his host invited guards to witness his conquests, or lack of same.   "Uh, no," he said politely, to Jack.   "Lead on," he said to Stephen.  "I'm afraid half an hour will have to do, though.  We need to get back to our own land."

"Certainly," Stephen smiled.   There was a glitter to his eyes that only Jack and Teal'c saw, and neither of them liked.   But Daniel followed Stephen to the narrow staircase at the end of the room, and Samantha and Jack moved simultaneously to sit closer together.

"What was that about?" Jack whispered.

Samantha shook her head.   "I don't know.   He jumped like a wasp bit him."

"There are fleas," Teal'c said, nodding to several dogs lounging on the floor.

"I don't think a flea would cause that reaction.  Unless he was allergic to it."  Samantha frowned toward the staircase.  "Maybe we shouldn't have let him go."

Jack pushed back the full cuff of his sleeve to find his watch.  "Twenty-nine minutes.  Then we go find him."

Daniel followed his host up two flights of narrow stone stairs that twisted snakelike up what must have been a circular turret at the rear of the house.  Not much light came through the narrow windows, but torches were lit in sconces on the walls and he could see clearly.  He held his robes up out of his way automatically, the year on Abydos having trained him well.  Most of his mind was busy on what he was going to say to the man.  He wasn't experienced in tactful rejection, not to a woman and certainly not to a man.  He held out a dim hope-against-hope that perhaps Stephen did have a wonderful collection of artifacts and they could discuss them with shared enthusiasm, but he wasn't that naive.

They finally reached the opening to a broad corridor, handsomely draped with colorful tapestries, and Stephen moved a few feet down it to a massive oak door.  He threw it open with a smile and a gracious gesture.

Daniel smiled back wanly. "Lord Stephen, I think I should tell you--"

"Please, Daniel.   We can be comfortable discussing whatever it is, can't we?"

Daniel moved to join him at the door, still talking.  He vaguely noted the oversized feather bed--no canopy, that was unusual. "I must explain that I'm a married man."

"Yes, so you mentioned."   Stephen motioned behind Daniel as he closed the door.  "Does my collection impress you?"

Daniel's eyes focused on the numerous items hanging from pegs on the whitewashed wall.  A dozen or more whips of various styles.   Sawtooth-edged clamps.  Poles tipped with different kinds of rusted metal tools--he spun to face the other man incredulously.  "These are torture devices!"

"Yes."   Stephen folded his arms, smirked.   "Aren't they marvelous?"

Daniel turned again and yanked the door open.  He was afraid it was locked, but opening it was no victory--two very large guards stood there, faces impassive but eyes smirking like their master's.  He was no match for them; they simply each grabbed an arm, spun him to face Stephen, closed the door carefully behind them.

Stephen smiled and stroked his face.   "You and I are going to have such fun together!"

The entertainment was excellent.   Jugglers juggled, acrobats tumbled--no mean trick, to keep balance amid the close quarters and disheveled floor of the hall.  Minstrels played, and servants kept bringing platters of food and drink.  O'Neill had long since stopped counting the number of courses, and he kept a limit on the number of tankards of mulled wine and cider he drank.   They tasted pretty good, but it was not a good idea to get drunk on a stranger's property, much less on a strange world.  The twenty or so men at the central table in front of them were getting increasingly rowdy.   Teal'c was watching everything with interest, but Sam was getting restive.  "Sir," she said, touching O'Neill's sleeve.   "This is all very impressive, but shouldn't we check on Daniel?"

"Patience, Carter."   O'Neill checked his watch.   "You know him when he's examining some find.  He's got another fifteen minutes, anyway."

The robe was easily removed and tossed into a corner.  Stephen frowned at the garments Daniel wore under it.  He figured out the belt fairly easily--Daniel squirmed and tugged at the hands holding him as his lordship slipped it off and after flexing it suggestively, tossed it after the robe.  He paid no attention to the attached sidearm in its leather holster.   Probably thought it was a purse of some kind, Daniel thought bitterly.  I wish he did intend to rob me.

Stephen pulled at the black cotton T-shirt, then seeing no way of getting it off--without releasing Daniel's arms, at least--pulled his short knife from its sheath and slit it from side to side, and across the shoulder seams.  He let the shreds fall where they stood, and undid the button on Daniel's trousers.  It took him a little longer to figure out the mechanism of the zipper.  Daniel wondered if he could knee the man in the face, or anywhere damaging, but Stephen did not stand close enough.   As if he knew, Daniel thought.  As if he were experienced in undressing prisoners.   He could stomp on Stephen's foot, but doubted that would be very effective.  He set his jaw as he felt the zipper give, and his pants tugged down.

Stephen scowled at the hindrance of Daniel's high laced boots.  He bent and untied the first lace, and Daniel kicked him.  It wasn't as effective a kick as he could have made without his pants around his knees, but he leaned back against his captors and with them to help balance, he managed to strike Stephen's chin pretty hard.   Stephen fell backward with an undignified "umph!" and as both guards yanked Daniel back, one used his free hand to punch him in the kidney.  Daniel cried out and would have fallen had the guards not had him in so tight a grip.

Stephen got up unsteadily, holding his chin, which was beginning to swell, and glared at Daniel.   "You--will--pay--for--that,"   he said indistinctly.   Daniel glared back unhappily.   He doubted he had much to lose.

Samantha leaned forward, chin nearly resting on Jack's shoulder.  She nodded to the far side of the hall.  "See that little boy?"

Jack smiled, nodding; he'd been watching the kid.  Couldn't be more than twelve, but he was juggling nearly as many balls in circles, in complicated patterns.  He wasn't playing to the audience; his face was absorbed, concentrating on those balls.   Jack remembered another kid who'd been totally concentrated on the process of whatever he was doing.   He relaxed in his seat, taking another small mouthful of wine, wishing water was part of the service, but from what he remembered of the Middle Ages, water wasn't one of your health foods. He glanced at his watch.  Ten minutes to go, and at that he'd cut the archaeologist a little slack; he'd known Daniel to be immersed for hours in one artifact, and Lord Stephen had a collection.   Wouldn't cut him that much slack, of course.

Daniel was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists.  Wasn't that high a ceiling, maybe nine feet, so with his arms at full extension his bare feet could touch the floor, but not support his weight.  After fastening his wrists to the leather cuffs, the guards had shortened the chains attaching them to the ceiling nearly to their limit.   Obviously Stephen usually catered to shorter guests.

He was facing a narrow wall which was nearly covered by a full-length mirror.  Stephen had left his glasses on so Daniel could see every expression on his face, every jerk of his body.  Stephen, behind him using the whip, could see them too.   Thankfully, if there were anything to be thankful about in this situation, Stephen was using a broad whip, two inches across; Daniel could see it coming sometimes in the mirror.   It was meant to cause pain, leave welts, but would not cut the skin.  Stephen wasn't intending to beat him to death.  Another blow fell, lower, and Daniel clenched his teeth.   He wasn't going to give this sadist the pleasure of crying out.  Stephen hadn't said a word to him after his guards had pinned Daniel to the ground, merely stripped off the rest of his clothing.  The guards had chained him up and left the room.  Daniel had been relieved--one of those massive men could do him a lot of damage--but Stephen, though slight, was strong enough to wield the whip with force.   Probably a lot of practice, Daniel thought bitterly.  He'd been a fool to go with him alone.

Stephen stopped.   Daniel swallowed convulsively.  He hadn't been counting, but he thought--twenty?   Twenty, fifty or until death were the traditional numbers, and he knew it hadn't been fifty.

Stephen circled to stand in front of his captive, carefully out of range of a kick.  He coiled the whip lovingly and set it back on its hook on the wall, stopping just short of giving it a pat.  He smiled at Daniel.  "We'll wait a few minutes, yes?  Give the pain a chance to work."

He was right, Daniel realized; his back felt hot and sore, but it didn't hurt.  Skin cells were protective; they blocked any overwhelming sensation.  For a short period of time.       

Stephen circled around him again, pulled a small table away from the wall, and poured himself a goblet of wine.   Daniel could see him munching cheese and crackers from a corner of the mirror.  He swallowed again, incredulous, and shut his eyes. He felt a searing heat in his shoulder and braced himself.  Jack, he thought.  Now would be a good time to interrupt.

Jack was beginning to get bored with jugglers and clowns, good as they were.  Didn't they have any dancing girls?

Come to think of it, aside from Carter, he hadn't seen any women in the hall.  Even the servants were all male.

"Ya think Lord Stephen doesn't like girls?" he asked Carter, casually.  Then it hit him.  "Christ!"  He swung off the bench, gesturing Carter and Teal'c to follow him, and made for the stairs he'd seen Stephen take, exactly half an hour ago.   Teal'c caught up to him first, carrying his staff, but Carter wasn't far behind.

"What is it, O'Neill?"

"I think Lord Stephen might have other things in mind than hospitality." Jack had one foot on the bottom step when a hand gripped his arm and yanked him around, to face the scowling Sir Hugh.  Sir Marus lounged behind him.

"It's rude to leave the table at meat," he snarled.

"Your manners wouldn't win the Good Housekeeping seal either," Jack snapped, pulling his arm free.   Hugh swung at him.   Jack could have dodged it on his worst day.   He weaved smoothly to the right, and on the return trip sent his own right fist beneath Hugh's ear.   The man went down like an ox, with as satisfying a crash.  Teal'c swung up his staff weapon as several guards ran up, but Marus held out a restraining arm to them.  He was laughing.

"Friend Jack, I think thou hast made an enemy."

"He was never my friend," Jack snapped.  "If you'll excuse us--"

"But what is your hurry?   They haven't served the sweetmeats yet."

"We--uh--have to take some medicine," Jack improvised.  "Your food's very good, but--uh--spicy.   We're not used to it."

"Oh."   Sir Marus studied the floor.  "I'm sorry."

"That's okay.   We'll be back soon."   Jack turned and ran up the stairs, followed by Teal'c and Samantha.

Jack tried to take the stairs two at a time, but the damn robe got in the way.  Muttering curses, he untied the belt and dropped it on the stairs.   Teal'c did the same, but Samantha hadn't the option; she gathered the long skirt above her knees and draped it over one arm while unsnapping her Beretta from her holster with the other hand.

"Should we get our rifles?"

"Let's see if Daniel's okay. I may be misjudging His Lordship."  Jack slowed as he saw the archway at the head of the stairs, and his team stopped behind him.  Silent in his lug soles on the stone floor, Jack stopped at the hall entrance and pressing his face against the doorframe, sent one eye to view the corridor.   He eased back and whispered, "Two guards on a door.  Any guesses that's Stephen's door?"

Carter and Teal'c stared back at him, concern for Daniel in their eyes. Jack's gun was also in his hand, but guns made a lot of noise.  So did staff weapons.

Jack's eyes narrowed as the door in question opened, and Stephen himself appeared.  He was fully dressed, and appeared to be cheerful.   Maybe Jack was wrong.   He gestured the guards to come inside, and they shut the door after them.  But not before Jack heard him say, "it's time."   Time for freaking what?

Anyway, they could get in now without alerting the guards.  Jack entered the corridor, gave a longer look to left and right--the place was silent--and flattened himself beside the door.  Teal'c took the other side, Carter watched the head of the stairs.   Jack eyed the door.   Oak, tough stuff.   A staff weapon would blast it all right, but where was Daniel, inside?  They couldn't risk it.

It wasn't warm in the room, and Daniel was naked.  But rivulets of sweat ran down his face, and his body shook with tremors of pain.   Stephen used his napkin to wipe his mouth, smiled at Daniel, and went to the door, gesturing in the guards.  "It's time," he said.

Daniel tried to struggle as the guards released the chain, but his legs refused to support him, and every effort to lift his arms in self-defense caused fresh waves of pain that put him at risk for screaming.  And he wouldn't.   If he could do nothing else, he wouldn't scream.

"Turn him around," Stephen ordered.  He himself caught Daniel's face in his hands and forced his head to turn so Daniel was looking over his shoulder.  "There, isn't that pretty?"

The skin of Daniel's back, from neck to thighs, was red, patterned in swelling white welts.   Two thin cuts dripped blood in the middle of his back. So I was wrong, Daniel thought fuzzily.  Guess I caught the edge a couple of times.

"I don't think you need this now," Stephen murmured, and carefully lifted his glasses off, putting them with his discarded clothes.

Daniel had time to take a deep breath before Stephen turned to him again--and kissed him.   Daniel reared back, but the guards held him tight between them and there wasn't anywhere he could go.  Stephen pulled back, laughing, and Daniel spit, catching him in the face.  Stephen stopped laughing.   His face darkened and he reached for Daniel's genitals.  Back on fire, Daniel desperately tried to brace himself for more pain, but Stephen stopped.   With the most evil smile he had ever seen, he gestured the guards to bring Daniel to the bed.   Fighting as best he could, as the guards placed him facedown on the bed and manacled his sore wrists to the headboard, he wondered despairingly if Jack for once was allowing him all the time he normally craved for his inspection of artifacts.  That would be ironic.

     The guards were holding onto one leg, strapping the ankle to the footboard.   He tried to kick backward with the other leg, but they were straightening up, moving back to the door.   One ankle tied down?   Oh, God.  The tremors in him increased, now as much panic as pain.   He moved his head right, the door was opening, they were leaving.

"Relax," Stephen said, and slapped Daniel's bottom.  As his hand, not accidentally, struck a weal, Daniel stifled a cry, burying his head in the feather pillow.  Stephen chuckled, sat on the bed, and pulled off his slippers.

    The door started to open.  Christ, that was fast.  Jack, Teal'c and Samantha made it to the stairwell by the time the guards emerged and shut the door behind them, but they were back to Square One, the two guards on the door and them stuck behind a wall.  There hadn't been any sound of commotion inside.  Neither had there been Daniel's voice, going on about Lord Stephen's terrific artifacts.  Jack frowned.   He still could be wrong.   He could be attacking a perfectly innocent discussion.  Daniel would be pissed at him.  But he couldn't risk being right.

He leaned over and breathed the thinnest of whispers.  "Carter.   Make friends with the nice guards."

She frowned at him.   He leaned over further to whisper in her ear.

"You look nonthreatening.   Get at least one of them distracted."

He knew he was asking her to do "girl" stuff, and perhaps it was demeaning, but he couldn't see any quieter way of getting rid of the guards and into that room.   She nodded, like a soldier, put her gun back in the holster under her skirt, and straightening her dress, put on a smile and entered the hallway.

Both guards stiffened, glaring at her.

"Here are Lord Stephen's private chambers," one snapped.  "Forbidden."

"I'm sorry.   I'm looking for my friend, Daniel Jackson?   Have you seen him?"

The guards exchanged glances.   One hid a smirk.   Samantha felt a chill of anxiety.   Both men shook their heads.

"No.  Go away.  Go back to the banquet.   Lord Stephen will be down soon," the guard on the left said.  The one on the right, who had smirked, did it again, more openly.

"Oh dear.   Daniel has my medicine, you see.  Without it, I--oh--"  Samantha swayed dizzily.  Frowning, Lefty took a step forward and caught her arm.

"Are you well?"

No, you fool, Samantha thought, and fainted gracefully across the guard's sword arm.  Smirky sighed and came to hold her up.  "She's pretty," he said.  "Even if they cut off all her hair.   What do we do with her?"

Righty shrugged, about the time Samantha regained consciousness enough to jam stiffened fingers into Smirky's throat.  With all that armor, there weren't many  vulnerable spots on him, but that was sufficient.  He fell to his knees, choking.  Samantha turned and swung the side of her hand against the other's neck.   He was too far for the strike to be completely effective, but he banged against the wall, and Teal'c came over to knock him cold.   Jack took care of the one on his knees.   He gave Sam a small salute, she smiled back, and then Jack knocked politely on the door.

Daniel muffled his scream in the pillow.  His resolution was lost as a pain he couldn't bear took him on top of all the other pains still throbbing in his back.  Stephen was on top of him, still wearing most of his clothes.  He crooned like a lover as he thrust into Daniel again, loving the man's panicked, agonized reaction.  One hand burrowed between the man's body and the softness of the bed, seeking his genitals.   Tears running down his cheeks, Daniel twisted away as best he could, trying to heave Stephen off him, but confined as he was on the soft surface, he couldn't get leverage.   Stephen's hand found him and he squeezed.   Daniel screamed again, not caring who heard him.  The door crashed open.

Jack had seen a lot of horrible sights in his years in the military, and even more in his few years in the SGC.   He knew the Goa'uld were slime.   But he'd just seen even more evidence that human beings could rank them in evil and depravity.   He was on Stephen in a flying leap, grabbing him and throwing him off the bed so hard, the Lord landed against the opposite wall.   Daniel choked and sobbed.   Samantha was already at work, getting Daniel out of the wrist restraints.  Jack turned and started on the ankle.  Teal'c, glaring ferociously, was holding Stephen at the point of his staff weapon.

Jack finished, saw that Sam had freed his wrists, but Daniel wasn't coming out of that pillow.   His chest ached.  Obviously Daniel needed some TLC, but they didn't have the time.   As gently as he could, he hauled the other man upright.

"Carter, find me some clothes."  Daniel was shaking so badly he could hardly wipe the tears off his face, but he was trying.   He was also sitting way to starboard.   Jack told himself not to think about that.  Samantha appeared beside Jack, holding all Daniel's clothes that had been thrown into the corner.   She handed Daniel his glasses, which had been neatly folded on top.  The scraps of black material on the floor were presumably his T-shirt.   "All right, come on, guy.   Carter, you watch Lord Scum.   Teal'c, I need some help here."

Samantha knew why Jack wanted her to stand with her back to the men, watching Lord Scum with her Beretta trained on his head.  He was trying to give Daniel a little of the dignity that so clearly had been ripped from him. Samantha's jaw clenched.  She didn't believe in summary execution.  But sometimes--

Daniel caught his breath as Jack slid his arm through the sleeve of the velvet robe.  Daniel's eyes met his and he nodded.  Jack put the robe over his shoulders; Teal'c, who had finished tying his bootlaces, stood to fit the other arm in.  Daniel closed his eyes.

"Count your blessings, it coulda been terrycloth," Jack advised him, and Daniel smiled wanly, still with closed eyes.  With a quick look at Teal'c, Jack pulled him to his feet.  They'd already had him up and down twice, for the shorts and pants; good thing both were loose.  Jack had noticed things he'd rather not have seen; blood smeared between Daniel's thighs he could have predicted, but that Daniel's balls were red and swelling, no.   What had the bastard--no.   He didn't want to know, not now.   If he knew now, there was no way he wasn't going to kill His Freakiness, and they still needed him to get them out of the manor.

Teal'c tied the belt around Daniel's robe.  Now he looked more or less like a normal party guest, one with sweat-soaked hair, a pallor that rivaled Dracula, and tear-streaks all over his face.  Jack looked around for a basin, found one, poured water and took a cloth to Daniel's face for some quick repairs.  Daniel sighed, and Jack didn't know if it was from relief at the cool water, or long-suffering patience at being treated like a child.   "Any of that water to drink?" he asked huskily, and germs be damned, Jack poured some into His Lowness's goblet and gave it to him.  He drank it off and handed it back, nodding thanks.  Jack gave him a quick, encouraging smile.  He didn't even try to smile back. 

"All set," Jack said, and Samantha turned.  Their fully dressed archaeologist was standing between Jack and Teal'c, head down, clutching each of their forearms.  "We're leaving," Jack said to Stephen.  "You're coming along to give us safe passage.   If you say one single word more than I tell you to, you're dead.  Understood?"

"You are barbarians," his lordship said scornfully.

"We're barbarians?" Jack echoed.  He swallowed whatever else he wanted to say.  What would be the point?  He was gonna convince this monkey to repent and not torture or rape any more?  Right.  "OK, we're barbarians.  All you gotta believe is that we mean what we say.  Right?"

"Very well," Stephen sniffed.  He marched to the door, which was still open where Jack had flung it.  None of them had thought to close it; either they were damned lucky no one had passed by, or this whole floor was reserved for his lordship's private uses.  That must be why the door hadn't been locked; all Jack had had to do was press the latch, which he'd done as soon as he'd heard Daniel scream.  The guards had only been for help in persuading the reluctant to join in his lordship's activities.  Jack grimaced. 

The two guards were still unconscious, breathing noisily.  Jack glared and wished he could give each a little kick in parting.   Daniel himself was breathing in gulps and gasps, in pain, and Jack and Teal'c found it impossible to help him walk in any way that didn't make it worse.

"I will carry you, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said, offering Jack his staff weapon.

Tears sprang to Daniel's eyes again.   "No. I can walk."

"Sure you can walk," Jack soothed. "But what we need now is running, Daniel, and I'm not sure you're up to that."

Swallowing, Daniel was forced to agree.  Jack would rather have ripped out his own throat than force Daniel to do anything right now, but it was necessary.  Get him out alive first, ease hurt feelings later.

Teal'c hoisted Daniel over his shoulder and they took the first flight of stairs at a trot, Samantha prodding Stephen ahead of them, Jack in front.

"Now," Jack said at the first landing.  He aimed the point of Teal'c staff weapon at Stephen's throat.  "Take us to that room we changed in."   They had to pick up their P-90s and the other equipment they'd had no way to discreetly carry.   Stephen scowled, but led the way down the corridor.

     "Fine," Jack said, recognizing the room.  Their jackets and what was in and under them were untouched.   "Real trustworthy staff you've got here.  Now lead the way, outside."  He wrapped his jacket around his rifle and grabbed the smaller man's shoulder, thrusting him toward the door.  Stephen turned and gave him an evil look.  Jack raised the gun meaningly. Stephen probably didn't know what it did, but he knew it was a weapon.  Stephen glanced at it, made for the stairs.  Coward, Jack thought.   Forty knights, Marus had said he had? And he was going to let four--well, make that three-and-a-half, at the moment--barbarians, dictate to him.

They stopped on the stairs for Jack and Teal'c to redon their robes, and then they were on the first floor, banquet level.  The door to the left was the village side.  Jack poked Stephen in that direction, glancing back at his team.  Teal'c had set Daniel down, still supporting him by an arm.   Daniel was shaking a little--visible at six feet, how little was that?--but his eyes were open and he was moving.

Flanking the front door were two more armored knights, and they didn't look hospitable.   "Tell them," Jack said softly to Stephen.   "That you're going to show us around the town.  Tell them that or you won't live to hold another 'banquet.'"

Stephen turned his head to murmur, "You will kill me anyway."          

"A lot depends on where I shoot you," Jack said, and Stephen paled.  They were up to the guards, who bowed stiffly to Stephen.

"We are--going for a stroll," Stephen muttered.  Christ, you'd think he could lie better than that.  However, knights weren't trained to question their master; one opened the heavy door promptly.  Jack followed Stephen, wishing he had eyes in back of his head.

Samantha was close behind, eying the walled twisted road ahead with dismay.  Anybody could be waiting for them, hidden by a curve; anybody--practically one body--could close it off at the far end.  Think positive, she told herself.  So far, so good.  Yeah, we got Daniel back after he'd been tortured and raped, how good was that?   She glared at Stephen, sauntering ahead of her.

Teal'c one-handedly supported Daniel, whose joints had become so unwieldy he felt like the Tin Man.   He ignored the pain.   He'd had a lot of practice ignoring pain.  But shuddering took a lot of energy, and he couldn't stop.  Once they were out of sight of the manor, Teal'c would carry him.   He forced himself to walk faster.   He didn't want to be carried.   It implied he was helpless.   He hated being helpless.   He'd had way too much practice being helpless.  He stumbled on the rough cobblestones, and Teal'c grip tightened.

"We are going fast enough, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c rumbled.  "We are supposed to be strolling."

Daniel turned his head and looked upward.  Teal'c had made a joke.   His answering smile was too faint to be seen, but you had to acknowledge Teal'c making progress on his Earth humor.   "Right," he said.   "Sorry."

Teal'c nodded solemnly.

The road leading to the manor was maybe a mile, and the road from it was six miles, wasn't that the usual way?   Jack hurried Stephen as much as he could, winding this way and that, but didn't feel they could outright run even though they were certainly out of sight of the first floor.   But there, that was the faintly wider dirt of the village road ahead of them, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Which was when he heard the marching.   Practically a parade-ground stomp, booted feet on stone.  Behind them.   Ahead of them, framed between the stone walls, a woman stood, gaping as she saw Stephen.   "Oh shit," Jack said. He rapidly decided that at a mile's run from the Stargate, Lord Stephen was more hindrance than help.   Efficiently he reversed his rifle and slammed the butt end into his head.  The village woman clapped both hands over her mouth as her master tumbled into the dirt.  "Teal'c!" Jack shouted.  "Grab Daniel.   We gotta run!"

Without wasting breath in reply, Teal'c hoisted Daniel over his shoulder, and the three of them ran.

The village road, though unbounded by confining walls, was almost as narrow, and it was bound by stalls and houses, as well as blocked by villagers of all sizes.  It slowed them down.  So did the damned robes, but Jack wasn't stopping to discard his right now.   They were less than halfway through the village when a roar of fury went up behind them; the knights had found Stephen.

"Think he's dead, sir?" Samantha panted beside Jack.  Discretion be damned, she had gathered the skirt over her arm again.

"I don't give a shit, Major," Jack said. "Somebody should've put his lights out long ago.   Damn," as he vaulted over a pig.   "Can't they keep their livestock under control?"

"I am sorry we cannot stay to make recompense," Teal'c said from behind them.   He wasn't even breathing hard.  "I have just crushed someone's chicken."

"Chicken soup, Teal'c.   Chicken soup.   Just as good.  Damn."  Evidently undeterred by obstacles--they had probably cleared the way, Jack thought bitterly--the manor force was gaining on them.  The end of the village was in sight, but behind them, so was the vanguard of knights.  He turned again and almost ran into a woman who wasn't getting out of his way.

"You cannot go on," the woman said.  Jack recognized her from their arrival--it seemed days ago.

"Tessa, right?   Look, excuse me, we have to go on," Jack said, trying to shove her aside as carefully as possible.

"They have the stone ring guarded," Tessa said impatiently, resisting the tug of his hands.   "Do you think they do not know whence you have come?"

"Is yours the only settlement on this planet?" Samantha asked.

"No, there are others, but ours is the largest, and the first.  Now come, there is no time to talk."

"Where?" Jack asked, but glancing behind him, he realized it didn't matter.  If the gate was guarded, they wouldn't make it, and the odds were they wouldn't make it even if it wasn't.  He and his team followed the woman down an alley, and Teal'c had barely disappeared from sight when the knights went charging past.

The woman continued to weave them in and out of alleys, gradually climbing, until they emerged in the hills back of the village.  There she led them up a path around another hill, to the door of a hut.

"Nice place you've got here," Jack said as she held the cloth door aside and they entered.   There wasn't much to the place--one room, dirt floor, no windows.  There was a young girl tending a fire in the center of the hut, and as she started up in alarm Tessa waved a reassuring hand.

"This is my daughter, Glenna," she said.  "Glenna, these are strangers from the ring."

Glenna's eyes widened.   "But I thought that was great-grandmother's old tales!"

"No.  We have not had such visitors for generations, but at least see, these mean us no harm."

Glenna smiled at them timidly, and they all found time for a smile in return--except Daniel, who was too miserable to smile.  Teal'c was helping him stretch out on the floor, there being no bed in evidence.

"Oh God," he said.   "Think I'm gonna be sick."

"What, all that thumping up and down wasn't fun?" Jack asked.  He crouched next to Daniel and ruffled his hair gently.   Daniel flinched.  Jack withdrew his hand hastily.  He looked up at Tessa.  "Uh, maybe we could have some water?"

"Certainly.   Glenna, bring a fresh bucket."

Obediently the girl--she was twelve or thirteen--picked up a large wooden bucket from its place near the fire, took it outside.

"That looks heavy," Teal'c said.  "Perhaps I could help."

Tessa looked at him narrowly, then relaxed and nodded.  "I do not have near neighbors.  No one will see you go to the stream."

"They'll be searching for us," Samantha said.  "When they see we haven't gone on to the Stargate."

"It will be dark in a few hours," Tessa said.  "You can slip past them then.  There will be fewer of them, too.  They do not like to stay out at night."

"Dangerous animals?" Jack asked.

Tessa snorted.   "Dangerous us.  We have accounted for a few, under cover of night."

"Why?" Samantha asked.   "Because of Lord Stephen?"

"Of course, because of Lord Stephen.  Did you kill him?   Etta says you killed him," she said to Jack.

"I don't know," Jack said.   "I doubt it.   Most heads are harder than that, and I didn't stop to aim.   I do know he'll be out of commission for a while."

Tessa closed her eyes and murmured something.  "I was praying," she said after a moment.  "That he is dead.  You will have removed a great evil from our village."

"Why didn't you remove him yourself?" Jack demanded.  "And not that I'm not grateful for saving our lives, but why didn't you warn us before we went to that--"  He swallowed.  "Banquet."

"I did," Tessa reminded him.   "I told you to go.   And even after you chose to stay, I thought the risk slight.  He would not be interested in the woman or the big man, and you are too old.   I thought your companion was too old, too."  She nodded at Daniel, prone on the ground.  "I am sorry I was wrong."

"Great," muttered Daniel.   "Just great."   He began to stretch, and stopped abruptly.  "What is Lord Stephen's age of choice?"

Tessa's spine straightened.   "My son was fourteen."

Daniel, wincing, turned to face her.   "You let that bastard take a fourteen-year-old boy?"

"I did not 'let' him do anything.   My son was hunting with his friends, in the hills.  We do not let our sons spend time in town, when they are past ten years.  The knights--"  She stopped to clear her throat.  "They caught him there."

"Is he--is he all right?" Daniel asked.

Tessa swallowed and crossed herself.   "He is with God," she said.

Daniel's mouth hung open.   He fumbled for his glasses, which he had safeguarded in his pants pocket, and put them on to look at her.   "He killed him?"

"No, no.   He's never killed anyone."  Tessa took a breath.  "Most of the boys get over it, it's not uncommon.  But some--Alan never got over it.  He turned distracted, he--he drowned when he was eighteen.   That was last year."

"He committed suicide," Daniel said.

"No!"   Tessa and Jack spoke together.

"He never would!" Tessa said angrily.

"Daniel, button it," Jack said, as angrily.

"Why?"   Daniel hauled himself painfully to a near-sitting position, Samantha giving him support.  He looked at Tessa with loathing.  "You knew about this man, you knew he was a sexual sadist and you knew exactly how much danger your son was in.  You did nothing.  And he couldn't handle it, maybe like more macho types in the village?  He killed himself.  And either your religion or your conscience won't permit you to admit it.   Stephen did kill him, eventually.   And you helped."

"No!"   Tessa threw her shawl over her face and rushed out of the tent.

"That was nice."   Jack's voice was acid as he stared at his teammate.  "Why don't you pull the wings off some flies now?  Maybe kick some baby birds out of their nest?  The woman lost her son!"

"She's not helpless.   She's a facilitator and if she recognizes it, maybe some other child can survive."  Daniel shut his eyes and allowed Samantha to help him lie down again.  

Jack stalked around the hut interior, wishing there were furnishings so he could kick them.   Finally he flung the fabric door open and went outside, where he had more room to pace.  Samantha came out after him, but they hadn't more than locked eyes before Teal'c and Glenna returned, he carrying the full bucket, she giggling beside him.

"Your friend is funny!" she said softly to Jack.  He forced a smile.

"Funny, huh?   Yeah, Teal'c's a barrel of laughs."   He sighed.  "Glenna, can you show Major Carter around, for about half an hour?"  He exchanged glances with Samantha, who nodded.

"Oh, yes."   Glenna smiled at Samantha.   "Would you like to see my garden?"

"Yes."   Samantha returned the smile. "Go ahead, I'll be along in a minute."  When the girl was out of earshot, she murmured to Jack.  "I have morphine in my pack.  Also antibiotics--he should have that first.  But Colonel, you have to go easy on him.  He's--"

"I know."   Jack held up both hands in surrender.   "He's hurt, he's in shock, he doesn't know what he's saying.  And I shouldn't have yelled at him. Does that cover it?"

"Almost," Samantha said.   "Colonel, I've never been raped, but I've come close enough.  That someone can touch you, in places you've reserved for fun, for joy--"

"In Daniel's case, for nobody," Jack interrupted.

    Samantha nodded.  "Yes, that makes it worse. There's the whole macho male image thing to deal with, from being treated like a woman."

"Macho male image?" Jack repeated.  "Daniel?"   He couldn't help it.   He laughed.

Samantha's blue eyes shot sparks.   "Excuse me.   I'd better catch up with Glenna."

"Major."   Samantha paused and glared at him.   "I understand what you're saying.   And thank God, I am no expert.   But I think this kind of rape is different.  It's another form of torture, humiliation.  I'm not saying it's better or worse.  Those aren't useful terms.  What I'm saying is, this is Daniel.  Let's not treat him as a textbook example.  Because he's not in any textbook.  He's Daniel."

"And that means you can make jokes at his expense?"

"That means we treat him normally, Major.  Because the surest way I know of making someone feel lost is to treat him like a stranger."

Samantha hesitated.   Daniel and Jack were close, she knew.   Maybe Jack had something there--she had been thinking of casebook studies of male rape victims.   "Take it as it goes?" she asked.  Jack nodded.   Samantha gave a short nod back, before hurrying away.

Teal'c had been standing silently during the argument.  Jack cocked his head at the bigger man.

"You got a take on this?"

Teal'c gave his Jaffa shrug and picked up the bucket. "I think we should give medicine to Daniel Jackson, and see what else he needs."

"You got it," Jack said, and they went inside.

Daniel was lying prone again, and had taken off his glasses.  His eyes were closed, but he turned his head and opened them as his teammates entered.

Jack had antibiotics in his own pack.   In thirty seconds he had a dose mixed with water and was helping Daniel drink it.  The archeologist made a face, but finished every drop.

"Now, the piece de la resistance," Jack said, getting out the morphine syringe and an alcohol wipe.  Daniel smiled faintly as Teal'c slid off his robe.

"Since when do you speak French?"

"Ah, monsieur, I come from a long line of French O'Neills," Jack said in an execrable French accent.

"Right," Daniel said.

"Can you remove your trousers yourself?" Teal'c asked, having as usual no truck with their nonsense.  Daniel hesitated.   He unfastened his pants without difficulty.   But he couldn't--

"I guess I need help," he said slowly.

"I will help you stand," Teal'c said.  "And from there you can remove them."

"Teal'c, you must come from a long line of ambassadors," Daniel said gratefully.   Teal'c got him to his feet, where the pants started sliding on their own.  Jack waited until he had both feet free before inserting the needle below a welt.   Daniel winced but said nothing.

"You can yell if you like," Jack said easily, packing the needle away.  "No near neighbors, remember?"

"Don't want to--scare the kid," Daniel said.  "Or--or Tessa. They're outside, right?"

"Right.   But far enough away."  Jack stepped up beside him.  "After the morphine kicks in, we're going to clean those cuts.   Can you drop the drawers?"

Daniel swallowed.   He wouldn't meet Jack's eyes.

"You'll be more comfortable," Jack said quietly.

Daniel snorted a laugh.   "I f-find that hard to believe."  Now his eyes met Jack's.  They were angry.   Jack nodded and stepped back.

"It's up to you."

Daniel hesitated.   He felt foolish.  They'd shared a locker room, for God's sake; they'd shared a shower.   He looked at Teal'c, who looked back at him gravely.  No one was going to force him to do anything.  Something in him relaxed.  "All right, Jack."   He pulled at the waistband of his boxers.  But tugging exacerbated the scourging on his back, and he stopped, wincing.

"Give you a hand?" Jack asked.  "We can make shorts work of this."

Daniel rolled his eyes.   "Puns are intellectual suicide," he protested. But he nodded.  Jack and Teal'c, contrary to the speed suggested, eased the shorts down carefully.   They stuck, as Jack knew they would, since blood had dried in the rear, and there was also swelling in both front and rear to consider.  Daniel's hands folded into fists, but he didn't make a sound.  Teal'c spread out the robe as a pallet and helped Daniel lie down again, while Jack folded the pants neatly and put them with Daniel's jacket.   He stuffed the shorts in his own pack, to be discarded with the trash.  Daniel wouldn't see them again.

     They waited the few minutes until the archaeologist's eyes closed and his breathing evened out.

"OK," Jack said, taking Daniel's pulse.  "He's out.   You wanna do division of labor here?   You wash, I dry?   Or, you take the top, I'll take the bottom?"

Teal'c stared at him.   "I do not believe it matters, as long as it is done."

"Then let's do it."

They did it.   Jack kept all the concentration he could stand on the job. The rest of his mind, and all the imagination he could focus, was on devising ways for Lord Stephen to die.  A blow to the head was way too good for him.

Samantha poked her head inside before they were finished.  "Daniel decent?  Oh."   She stepped inside, letting the doorflap close behind her.  "How is he?"

"Asleep," Jack said.   "Breathing's good."   He threw the formerly sterile sponge he'd been using as a washcloth into the water bucket and stood, stretching.   "Didn't realize there was so much of one archaeologist to wash.  Think I'll take up elephants next."

Samantha stepped closer.   "The cuts look clean."

"They're not bad.   Overall picture's painful, not hazardous to his health."  Jack shook out a space blanket and Samantha and Teal'c helped him cover the sleeping man.

"What about--could you tell--"

"I'm not a proctologist."   Jack shook his head.   "Doc'll know better than me, but it doesn't look like there was much tearing.  There wasn't a lot of blood."

Samantha sighed in relief.   "Good.  Now diseases--STD, AIDS--"

"Christ, Carter.   Take it as it comes, okay?"

"Right."   Samantha smiled a little.   "Sorry."

Jack nodded and hefted the water bucket.  "Stay with him.   I'll get fresh water."

     At the river, a pretty little thing, not more than ten feet wide, Jack encountered a dark figure, hunched over the water.  He hesitated, emptied the bucket--not forgetting to grab back the soaked sponge--and crouched next to her.

"That was very cruel, what your man said," Tessa said, not looking at him.

"Daniel's hurt," Jack said, concentrating on swishing the bucket through the clear water.   "He's in pain.   He's not exactly thinking clearly, or he wouldn't have said all that."

"Alan was my first-born son."  The woman continued as though he hadn't spoken.  "Do you think I would not have died to protect him?"

Jack nodded, his throat too tight to answer.

     "Some things are the will of God."

At that, Jack's back straightened.   "You can give God some help."   You can lock up your damned sidearm.   "You can move out of this God-forsaken village to where there isn't a lunatic in charge."

The woman turned to look at him.   "We have lived here for generations, from the beginning.  Our homes, relatives, livelihoods are here.  Eventually the Lord will die, and one more worthy will take his place."

"How do you know?"

Tessa twisted her hands in her lap.   "Always before, the Lord was a good man, a wise man.  He took care of us."

Jack shook his head.   These people had no concept of democracy, and he hadn't Daniel's skill to offer a history lesson in a minute.   "But in the meantime, your children are being tortured.  I don't see how anyone could raise a son here.  Hell, I'd take a chance on the wilderness."

Tessa looked at him.   "I see you would.   Some--do.  A score of villages have been founded in the last twenty years.   We hear tales--some people go, and return to us.  These villages--do not do well.  No one takes care of them. Sometimes, whole families die."

No concept of organization--anarchy, Jack supposed.  Survival of the fittest.   He grimaced.

"You said you've taken the law into your own hands here, with some of the knights?"

Tessa nodded, grimly.   "We have.   Only the worst ones.  Many of them are corrupt now, though.  It was not so, years ago."

Jack sighed.   "Look, I'd like to help you out.   And it's possible we can help you out, but not until we get my team back through the Gate."  Hammond might be persuaded, he thought.  It was a pretty horrible situation these people were in, and they wouldn't be in it, isolated without even the limited social checks and balances they would have had on Earth, if it hadn't been for the Goa'ulds bringing them here.

But his priority had to be getting his team home. 

Night took forever to fall.   Tessa and Glenna offered the team a share in their meager supper, but everyone but Daniel had eaten their fill at the banquet, and Jack for one didn't think he'd be able to look at food until they got Daniel back to the SGC.  Daniel slept a drugged sleep under his blanket, twitching slightly.   Teal'c and Samantha had butterfly-bandaged the two long whip-cuts so hopefully they wouldn't open before they got him to the infirmary.

There was nothing to do but wait.

Spirits sank a little lower when one of Tessa's friends came to visit, ducking down and talking in low tones to Tessa, giving the strangers a dark look, and leaving.

"He is not dead," Tessa said heavily.  "And there are many knights guarding the stone ring."

"Great," Jack said.   "The perfect end to the perfect day."  He hefted his rifle.   "Let's get Daniel dressed.   There might be considerably fewer knights left after tonight, Tessa."

Samantha looked at him, and he knew normally she would protest against using guns against people armed only with swords.  But she looked at Daniel and compressed her lips.

Jack and Teal'c dressed Daniel in pants, jacket and boots, while Tessa and Glenna politely turned their backs and talked with Samantha.  Daniel blinked blearily while Teal'c held him and Jack pulled on garments, and he reared back while Jack was trying to fasten his pants.  Jack spoke soothingly and Daniel relaxed again.    

Daniel murmured something when they eased him down on his stomach and folded away the blanket, but soon subsided into sleep again.  Jack estimated they had about an hour before he woke up; he wanted to be back through the gate by then.  In which case, they had to leave now.

He stuck head and shoulders outside the house; it was full dark, and there was no moon.   Stars glittered through the trees overhead.   He wished he could see them clearly.   No matter what the circumstances, he couldn't help being thrilled by seeing the stars in an alien sky.   He ducked back inside.

"Better burn the robes," he told Tessa, referring to all the clothing Stephen had loaned to them, which now lay in a heap on the dirt floor.  SG-1 was combat-dressed.  "He may recognize them."

"Pity," Tessa said, smiling wanly as she fingered the soft, rich fabrics.  "But you are right."

He took her worn hands.   "Thank you for all your hospitality.  We'll try to return with help--maybe not us, but another team from our world."

She nodded, eyes glistening with tears.  "Go with God," she said.

Jack helped Teal'c get Daniel upright, and slung across Teal'c shoulder. Samantha smiled at Tessa and her daughter, Teal'c nodded to them gravely.  Tessa had told them to follow the stream, which meandered behind the Stargate, the opposite side of the village.  Maybe this would give them a slight advantage; they didn't know.   In any case, the DHD was on the village side of the gate.   And not only was there one less of them to fight, Daniel was a handicap.

Which was hardly Daniel's fault.  

They each carried night-vision goggles.  Looking through his, Jack could distinguish the many upright shapes around the Stargate which weren't trees.  

Daniel crouched beside him, balancing with difficulty.  He'd woken up part-way to their destination and did some struggling before Teal'c put him down, unsteady but determined to go the rest of the way on his feet.   And he had so far, with only minimal help from the rest of them.  Jack glanced at him uneasily.  Daniel's breathing was harsh and Jack could see him trembling.  He'd tried to give him a Tylenol 3; Daniel had refused, saying it would make him sleepy.  Well, duh.   Sleepy was better than shaking with pain.  But holding him down and making him swallow it, or giving him another shot against his will, was way counterproductive.

Jack gave up.   The sooner they got off this planet, the sooner Daniel would get the medical attention he needed.  Janet had absolutely no compunction about giving shots against the patient's will, but Janet never had to go into the field with those same people afterward.

Couldn't risk a grenade, might damage the DHD or the Stargate.  But neither was so delicate that automatic weapon fire would do any harm.

O'Neill found himself reluctant to press the trigger.  These knights were preventing him from getting his team home, and Daniel to healing from what their master had done to him.  They were no doubt venal, cruel and amoral.   But damn it, they were unarmed.  Shit.

He stood up.   "Drop your swords and stand away from the gate!"   To emphasize the difference in their armament, he fired a burst above their heads.  The shadowy figures ducked and shouted.  A couple on the periphery ran off.  But the majority stood up again and shouted defiance.   O'Neill definitely heard some comments on his ancestry.  He shrugged. "Okay, if that's the way you want it."

He took careful aim and fired, one shot.  The knight in front of him went down and stayed down.  The rest wavered.  Jack aimed and fired again.   Another man fell.   Carter and Teal'c, off to the side, stood up too; he could see the silhouettes of their weapons.  He hoped they wouldn't fire, not yet.  His point seemed to be making itself felt.  At the third shot, the group broke and ran, back toward the village.  "Carter, dial us home!" he snapped.  She slung her rifle at her back, ran to the DHD, focused her penlight on it and started slapping symbols.

O'Neill took a step, stopped and looked down.  "Daniel?   You with us?"

A tired sigh.   "Yeah.  I--I know it was necessary, but I wish you hadn't--had to shoot them."   A hand held itself out to him; Jack grasped it firmly and hauled the younger man to his feet.

"They get to the local witch doctor or whatever in time, they'll be fine," he said coolly.   "Two legs, one sword arm.   Unless he's a lefty, and I understand they frowned on those guys?"

The ghost of a laugh from the wavering figure next to him.  Jack wondered if Daniel even realized he hadn't let go, only shifted his grip to Daniel's arm.  The Stargate bloomed into life with its eerie effect of shimmering water.  "Should've realized you wouldn't--" Daniel murmured, and folded.  Jack just managed to keep him from hitting the ground.  Teal'c materialized next to him; checking Daniel's pulse, Jack smiled up at him.

     "Willing to be Daniel's taxi service again?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow as he picked up the archaeologist.  "Always, O'Neill."

"Then let's go home."

PART II--AFTERMATH

Daniel was staring at the infirmary floor, beside his bed.  He supposed it made a change from staring at the ceiling.  He knew that ceiling far too well.  Still, either was better than some things he could be staring at.   He shuddered.

MacKenzie had been to see him.   God, he hated that man.   Surprising thing for him to say, Daniel Jackson, didn't hate anyone.  But stupid, stupid MacKenzie, asking him how he felt about what happened.   Daniel had glared.   "I was beaten and I was raped.   How does anyone feel about that?"

"Didn't happen to anyone, it happened to you."

"That's right.   It happened to me, it was horrible, I survived it, and I want to forget about it.  I do not want to go over every blessed detail.  Is that clear?"

"Dr. Jackson, it will help you to go over it.  Why do you think every team debriefs after a mission?"

"I was debriefed.   Yesterday.  After I finally woke up out of the second drug-induced sleep I'd had in twenty-four hours."

MacKenzie studied him.   "You'd rather have been in pain?"

"Of course not!   That doesn't mean I like being drugged against my will."  Daniel winced.  He shouldn't have added that last.  MacKenzie's stare had grown more intense.

"You think you were drugged against your will?"

Daniel closed his eyes and counted to ten in Arabic.  When he opened them, he strove to sound calm, reasonable and utterly sane.   "Janet had done all the tests.   I didn't pick up any STD or viruses.   There wasn't a lot of physical damage, it was all superficial.  That's consonant with Stephen's reputation and his intention.  He couldn't keep the parents as compliant as they are if he severely hurt their sons."

MacKenzie hitched a little closer on the bedside stool.  "I read the transcript of your debriefing.  He tortures and rapes young boys, but you don't think that constitutes severe hurt?"

If he could get off this bed without falling down, he was going to strangle MacKenzie.   That was all there was to it.  Daniel kept his eyes locked on MacKenzie's as he counted to ten in Dutch.  Then he took a deep breath.   "I told Janet that since my injuries were superficial, I would prefer to recuperate at home.   She said I couldn't, and gave me a shot.  I would say that constitutes injection without permission."

"Dr. Jackson, you appear to be uncharacteristically hostile."

Daniel wondered what Jack would say if he asked to borrow his sidearm.  No, that wouldn't work, he didn't carry it while visiting patients in SGC's infirmary.

"Dr. MacKenzie, I don't want to talk to you.  I really don't like you, I don't trust you, and I don't want to ever see you again.   Is that hostile enough for you?"

MacKenzie stood up, with a final narrow glare, and walked out.  Daniel closed his eyes and tried counting to ten in Swahili.  He didn't know Swahili very well, so it was a challenge.   He got to five fine, but--

"Daniel?"

Unwillingly, Daniel opened his eyes.   Janet was there.   Her mouth was twitching as though she were trying desperately to keep from smiling.  "Dr. MacKenzie feels you should spend some time at his hospital."

"Over my dead body."

Janet came over and sat on the stool.   "You don't have to go."

"Good."

"But Daniel, you can't not deal with what happened."

Daniel sighed.   "Janet, what's the point?   I've been through worse things.  I've been tortured.  I've been addicted.  I've been dead.   Nobody insisted I had to have therapy for any of that!"

"I know."   Janet's voice was soft.   "Maybe we should have.   But this is a little different.   Rape is different, especially for a man."

Daniel said nothing.

"If you don't want to discuss it with Dr. MacKenzie--"

"No."

"Then I'll call in another therapist.  Someone specializing in rape counseling."

Daniel snorted. "She'll tell me to take self-defense classes."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," Janet said mildly.  Daniel glared at her.  Janet frowned.   "Dr. MacKenzie's right about one thing, you are unusually hostile."

"Janet, I want to go home."

"And I don't want you to, Daniel.   Those welts are still very swollen, and you can't get at them to put on ointment.  There's the risk of infection. You can't shower, you can't sit down to drive--"

"I can stay with Jack."

"In a few days, you can.   In the meantime, I want you to sleep, eat, and rest.  How's the pain?"   She glanced aside, at the on-demand morphine IV.  "You're not using this enough."

"I don't need a lot."

"Dr. Jackson, at this point the only worse patient I can think of is Colonel O'Neill!"

"He's here?"   Alarmed, Daniel picked his head off the pillow.

"No, not now."   Janet patted his arm--and pushed the button sending morphine into the IV.

Daniel muttered something as his head became suddenly too heavy to lift. His eyes closed.   Janet studied the instrument readings a moment before leaving the room.

Jack snickered.   "Sent MacKenzie packing, huh?"

Janet's mouth twitched once before firming.  "Yes, and very rudely, too. I wondered if Dr. MacKenzie was being deliberately provocative, but I think those two just don't get on.  I've sent for an outside expert."

"With a high security clearance," Jack said, eyebrows raised.

Janet nodded.   "Yes, it limits us a bit, but I think I've found a good man."

"A good man?   A rape expert?"   Jack still felt uncomfortable using the term.  Damn it, it was torture.   Just another form of torture.   It wasn't what happened to women.

"Yes, Dr. Stiles specializes in male rape."

"There's a specialist in this?   Come on."

Janet pursed her lips and studied him a second, making him even more uncomfortable.  "Colonel, you must know rape is fairly common in capture situations."

"It's not rape, Doctor.   It's brutality.   It's a method of breaking prisoners.   It's not sexual."

"I read the transcript of Daniel's debriefing, Colonel.  In this case, it was sexual."

"Lord Stephen is a sadist."

"Yes, and that's very unusual.   I've been doing a little reading--of the sado-masochistic set, there are far more masochists than sadists."

"Tell me about it," O'Neill muttered.

Janet cleared her throat.   "Anyway, yes, from all your descriptions, Lord Stephen is a sadist--he gets his sexual release from torture and rape.  Obviously he keeps himself under strict control, as Daniel said, because if he seriously damaged these children, there would be a point where the villagers would at least try to kill him, despite the risk to themselves."

"They should have," O'Neill growled.

"They're in a bad situation--even so, it's amazing what people can rationalize.  But getting back to Daniel," Janet said pointedly.   "He was raped, and it was sexual.   He's clearly much older than Lord Stephen's usual prey--"

"He wanted to try an experiment, maybe?"

"But he wanted him and he took him.  You're not doing Daniel any favors by denying it."

"I'm not--!"

"You just said it wasn't rape."

"Well--"

"I'll put you down for a session with Dr. Stiles too."

O'Neill rolled his eyes.   "Oh, goody."

Thank God, Daniel thought, regarding his living room with greedy eyes.  It was a mess--books falling out of overstuffed bookcases, manuscripts all over the coffee table and the rug around it, papers piled all over and around the computer.  The plants were half-dead and there was dust on everything.  But it was his mess, and he was thankful to be home.

His shoulders were still a little hunched.  His back was healed to the extent that he could lean against things, briefly, and he could sit on things, as long as they were cushioned, and he had energy enough so he could read for long periods of time--until Janet or another doctor or nurse turned out his infirmary light.  So Janet had finally agreed he could go home.  Dr. Stiles would arrive at the mountain the next day; Janet had asked if he would prefer to have his sessions there or at home.

"There," he said quickly, unwilling to have some shrink try to analyze him from his apartment.   He picked up a cup whose dried coffee dregs rendered it worthy of an archaeological dig and smiled.

Jack had offered to help him get settled--they'd all offered, even Teal'c, diffidently--but he'd refused, catching a ride with one of the base staff.  He just--wanted to be alone for a while.

He felt badly about the villagers.   Jack had told him he'd asked Hammond for SGC help, but Hammond couldn't spare the people, not with a team down.   SG-1 had been home for a week, all of them on vacation until he got well.  Daniel ruefully wondered if the other teams envied how much downtime SG-1 got, mostly because of him.

He put the cup down and wandered into his bedroom.  He still ached, and he was tired, this first trip out of the infirmary.  Maybe a short nap--

His eye was caught by the translation he'd been working on for SG-6 when he'd left on the mission; he sat gingerly on the bed and picked it up, eyes going from photograph to lined tablet.   He preferred working on paper for a first draft, until he needed his research databases.  He bent over carefully and untied his bootlaces, eyes never leaving the unfinished transcription.  Now that symbol, he was pretty sure he was wrong with the tentative translation he'd scribbled down.  He lay down, drew up his knees for a writing surface, and plucked a pencil from the full supply on his bedside table.  Maybe Assyrian would be the closest root language....

There was a ringing in his ears.   Daniel scowled and turned over, swore as something pulled against his back, opened one eye.   The ringing wasn't going away.  He turned his head to check the bedside clock.   Ten o'clock.  Time for bed?  He looked at the half-open shades at the windows and saw daylight.  Daylight?

The phone, that's what was ringing.   He swore again, grabbed it and swung his feet to the floor, realizing he was still in the clothes he'd come home in and felt grubby, hungry and headachy.  "Hello?" he snarled.

"Good morning to you," Jack O'Neill's startled voice answered.  "You okay?"

"I just slept eighteen hours."

"That's good, right?"

"No.  I have a headache."

"Well, take some aspirin and get your butt down here.  Dr. Thingummy's waiting for you, and I'd hate to guess how much he gets per hour."

Daniel was tempted to say he didn't give a ---, but that was Jack's line.  Was he turning into Jack?  He rubbed a hand through his short hair and sighed.  "I'm going to take a shower.  I'll have to call a cab; my car's still at the base."

"Did Janet give you permission to drive?"

Daniel's temper surged again.   He was really tempted to tell Jack it was none of his business.  But he supposed that him staying in one piece was Jack's business.   "Actually, she said to use my judgment."

"That's good.   I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."  Jack hung up.   Daniel stripped, leaving his clothes where they lay, and went into the shower. He had to be careful with the pulse on his shower head, but when he'd adjusted it to a very mild spray, the water felt wonderful.  His headache fled, and he was smiling when he went to shave and wash his glasses.   By the time Jack got there, he had managed one entire cup of coffee and three pieces of toast.   He also smiled at Jack when he opened the door.

Jack raised an eyebrow and smiled back.  "Well!   It's alive.  Looking good, Dr. Jackson."

"Thanks.   Since we're in a hurry, I guess you don't want coffee."

"You guess correctly, and I ate breakfast three hours ago.  Let's go."  He jerked a thumb through the door, and casting a wistful glance behind him at the Kenyan blend in the coffeemaker, Daniel followed.

"I don't really want to do this," Daniel said, in the car.

"I don't blame you, but it's orders."

"Have you met this--doctor?"

"Briefly."   Jack knew what Daniel was really asking.  "Seems okay, if a handshake'll tell you anything.  He did smile, so I guess he knows how."

Daniel looked out his side window.   "I'm almost better."

"That's good."

"I'd like to go back and help those people, Jack.  Get rid of--Stephen."   He swallowed.

"Dr. Frasier said maybe another week of downtime."  Jack hesitated.   "I'm not sure the General's going to let us be the team that goes.  He does want a team to go, though.  Somebody'll take care of His Scumship."

"I wonder how long he'll wait before he takes another boy."

"Can't think that way, Daniel.   It'll make you crazy."

Daniel sighed.

"Dr. Jackson."   The man holding out his hand was in his middle fifties, black hair only beginning to go gray, medium height and distinguished.  At least he wears glasses, Daniel thought wryly, a little intimidated as he took the hand and shook it briefly.  Dr. Alfred Stiles had as many sets of initials after his name as did Daniel.   They were different initials, though, beginning with M.D.

Look, Daniel told himself as Dr. Stiles led him to a spare room impersonally outfitted as an office.   You've faced down System Lords.   Don't worry about a human shrink.

"I'd offer you coffee, but I've tasted the swill from the commissary," Dr. Stiles said, taking a chair opposite Daniel.  Not behind the desk, the younger man noted.  Good.   He smiled slightly.

"If I'd wanted good coffee, I'd have stayed home."

Dr. Stiles nodded.   "Let me say at once that although I've been briefed about the Stargate and know of your mission, I haven't seen any of your assignment reports, except the last.  I think the whole business is extraordinary, fantastic--and I'm privileged to help in any way I can."

"Uh--thank you."   Daniel stared down at the rug, which was the typical green-blue-gray industrial office rug.  It probably had a serial number, he thought wryly.

"General Hammond thinks very highly of you."

A faint flush colored Daniel's cheekbones.  "I think highly of him."

"Dr. Jackson, tell me what happened in your last mission."

The flush deepened.   "You read the report."

"I'd like to hear it from you."

Daniel cleared his throat.   There was water in a carafe on the desk, and glasses; he poured a full one and took a sip.  "Okay.  We went to P73427 on a routine mission, to explore an unknown world.   It was an early medieval culture. Stratified society.   There was no King, no barons--the Goa'uld had moved only the one village there, as one of their--experiments.   So the ultimate authority is the Lord of the manor.  Currently, Stephen."   Daniel stopped.   "He is a sadist.  We didn't know that, so we accepted his hospitality."   Daniel swallowed.   "He invited me to his room, I went, he had two large guards restrain me--"  He shrugged.   "He whipped me and he raped me, and the rest of my team appeared and rescued me."

"Why did you go to his room?"

"He said he had a collection of artifacts."

"Your report says that you thought that wasn't true."

Daniel nodded.   "He was--touching me under the table.   I thought he was gay, and he was coming on to me."

"So why did you go with him?"

"Because I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to offend him.  We were in his manor, surrounded by his men."

"But you still were later, only in much worse circumstances."

"Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty."  Daniel met the psychiatrist's eyes.  "I thought I could politely refuse him, in private."

"Colonel O'Neill's report says you had doubts about going."

"I did."   Daniel smiled.   "I would have given a lot for a good excuse."

"And your teammates failed to provide one."

Daniel frowned.   "They didn't know what was going on.   I didn't tell them."

"Why not?"

"Because Stephen was standing right there."  Daniel rolled his eyes upward.  "I thought I could get out of it in private.  And I thought that if worse came to worst, I could knock him out and escape.   He isn't very big, physically."

"But you miscalculated."

Daniel nodded.   "Oh yeah."

"He hurt you."

Daniel didn't answer.   Stiles waited, made a note, moved on.

"Ever have any homosexual contact before?"

Daniel shook his head.

"What are your feelings about homosexuality?"

Daniel exploded.   "This wasn't about homosexuality.   It was about sadism!  Power.  The desire to hurt."

"Lord Stephen is clearly homosexual, no matter what else he is."

"All right.   He's not exactly typical."

"No.  But you didn't answer my question."

Daniel rolled his eyes again.   "I have nothing against homosexuality.  I happen to be heterosexual, that's all."

Stiles nodded and made more notes.   Daniel began to fidget.   He had so much work to do, and this was such a waste of time.  Also, the chair wasn't well cushioned, and he was beginning to hurt.

"The General tells me you're married."

Daniel stiffened and darted a look at the psychiatrist.  He didn't answer.   Stiles waited and then nodded as if Daniel had answered.  "But your wife has not been with you for over two years."

"What has that got to do with anything?"  Daniel's voice could have chilled ice.

"That must be a great strain."  Stiles' voice was sympathetic.

Daniel made an effort.   "It is."

"Have you had other physical relationships?"

Daniel thought of Hathor and Shyla and shivered.  "I'm married.   I haven't been looking for other relationships."

"Not having a physical relationship, at your age--"

In one second, I'm going to punch him out.  One second.   "My marriage to Sha'uri is more than a physical relationship.  Love is more than a physical relationship.  Didn't you learn that in shrink school?"

"But part of human need is for a physical relationship.  This experience might have been worse for you because you've been so isolated from this common need."

Daniel stood up.   "Okay, that's enough.  You're recommending I go out and have an affair to make me feel better about being raped?  I have work to do."

"We're not finished, Dr. Jackson."

"Yes, we are."   Daniel slammed out of the room.   Jack had been sitting waiting for him, at a discreet distance, in an armchair.  Daniel walked up to him.  "That man is a menace."

Jack looked at the closed door and back at the flushed face of his friend.  "That good, huh?"

Daniel shook his head.   "I should have expected this.   Shrinks relate everything to sex."

"Oh?"

Daniel smiled unwillingly.   "Do you want to go out and have a beer?"

Jack's eyes widened.   "That's my line.   You don't like beer."

"I think I would like one now."

"Uh--"   Jack looked back at the door, which had opened.   Stiles stood in the doorway, beckoning to him.  "In forty minutes, max?"

"You--"   Daniel looked from Jack to the doctor.   "You, too?  Is he interviewing everyone from SG-1?"

  "No, I think you and I are the only lucky ones."   Jack started for the door.   Daniel caught his arm.

"Why?"

Jack sighed.   "Janet's idea.  She thinks I need to be educated about rape of the male variety."

Daniel shook his head and settled gingerly in a cushioned chair.  "I'll wait."

"Have a seat, Colonel O'Neill."  Stiles didn't seem flustered at having a patient storm out.  Probably used to it, Jack thought, sitting opposite him.   "Your friend's very excitable."

Jack smiled, getting more comfortable in the chair.  "Yeah, he is."

"Isn't that a problem, on a military mission?"

"Sometimes.   Dr. Jackson contributes so much, we allow him a few eccentricities."

Stiles nodded, writing.   "Does he get into trouble a lot?"

"No more than the rest of us.   We explore unknown worlds, Doctor.   Trouble is part of the job."   Inwardly, Jack rolled his eyes.   He was beginning to sound like a Spillane detective.

"Would you say Dr. Jackson was emotionally stable?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, take this last mission.   Is he very upset about what happened?"

"I'd say the rest of us were equally upset."  Jack frowned.   "He was tortured.   You think he shouldn't be upset?"

"Certainly.   Actually, outwardly, I'd say Dr. Jackson is too calm.   He doesn't seem depressed.   He does seem a little touchy regarding questions about his personal relationships."

Jack shrugged.   "I'd probably be touchy about those too."

"Mmm.  But that could be displaced emotion.  There must have been other times when he's been hurt."

"Oh yeah."

"How has he reacted?"

Jack snorted a laugh.   "He's reacted normally.   He screams, he cries, he passes out.   He has nightmares for a while."

"Has he talked about these events with you?"

Jack nodded.

"Has he talked about this one?"

Jack hesitated.   "No.  But he's been in the infirmary until yesterday, and then he basically went home and went to sleep."

"But this was more than a week ago.  Nine days now."

Jack shrugged.

"Is there a reason he might not want to talk with you about the rape?"

Jack frowned.   "Maybe he thinks there's nothing to talk about."

"Why?"

"Well, what is there to talk about?  That lunatic hurt him, and that's that."

"Colonel O'Neill, some men talk about being raped their entire lives.  They talk about loss of masculinity, loss of confidence with the opposite sex, impotence, and suicidal impulses."  Stiles stared at him.  Jack frowned, remembering Daniel lash out at Tessa.   Daniel had claimed her son committed suicide.   How could he possibly know?

He hadn't included it in his debriefing.  You don't include the ramblings of a man in shock in a debriefing. 

"Has Dr. Jackson ever exhibited suicidal tendencies?"

Flashback of a man with a gun, in a storage room.  Daniel had been strung out, not lucid.  Flashback of a man on his knees in front of a Goa'uld, asking how much of himself would remain if he volunteered as a host.  Daniel had been desperate to be with his wife, in whatever fashion.   Flashback of a perfectly lucid man throwing himself in front of an energy blast aimed at Jack.  Daniel had been--Daniel.  Jack smiled gently.

"No.  He's never been suicidal."

"Depressed?"

"Doctor, the man's wife was kidnapped, turned into a monster, raped--he'd have to be a little crazy not to be depressed sometimes.  He solves it by working, and trying to find her again."

"According to what General Hammond told me, that's very unlikely."

"Everything I've experienced in the past three years has been unlikely.  It still happened."

Stiles leaned back in his chair and stared at O'Neill.  "Does Dr. Jackson have a temper?"

"Daniel?"   Jack thought a minute.   "Not really.   When he isn't sick or under the influence of--something or another, he's about the mildest person I've ever met."

"I thought for a moment in our interview he was going to hit me."

O'Neill blinked.   "Daniel?"  He felt himself straighten in the chair.  "What did you say to him?"

"I was expressing concern about his lack of normal sexual relations."

You son of a bitch, Jack thought. "What does that mean?"

"It's clear, Colonel.   He's a young man.   He hasn't had sex in over two years--or so he claims.   That's unhealthy."

"Yeah, I guess it's real unhealthy to be faithful to a wife you love.  Don't know what he's been thinking.  You realize he was never the belle of the ball before he was married?   He's a geek.   He's shy.  He's insecure.  Not about what he knows--all those languages, history, mythology.  And not about how smart he is.  He knows he can think rings around ninety percent of the population."  Maybe ninety-five, Jack thought, but he didn't want to brag.  "But about other people, what they think of him, he's insecure.  So he never exactly had a woman in every port."  He's working on it now, he thought irreverently.  "He found Sha'uri, fell like a ton of bricks.   He doesn't want anyone else, and I don't blame him."  He thought of Sha'uri's beauty, her sweet smile.  "I think he's a pretty lucky guy.  Psychiatrists recommending adultery now?   I must be behind the times."

There was an interesting flush creeping up Stiles' face.  Jack hid a smile.

"That is another point of view, of course.  It's unrealistic for Dr. Jackson to believe he'll ever get his wife back, but so be it.   But these flashes of temper, his reluctance to talk about his rape, indicate a problem."

"He'll talk about it when he's ready."

"To you?   You don't think a man can be raped, Colonel."

Janet, O'Neill thought.   I don't appreciate this, Janet.   "I didn't say that.   I just said, it's different."

Dr. Stiles glanced at his watch.   "How different?   Let's talk about that a little."

O'Neill emerged ten minutes later ready to spit tacks.  He saw Daniel slumped in a chair, waiting for him, as though seeing a brick wall ahead of his out-of-control Jeep.  Daniel wanted to talk, and he most emphatically did not want to talk.

On the other hand, if Daniel wanted to talk, he didn't want to put him off.  It was true the archaeologist had been quiet since they'd got him home. Every time Jack went to see him in the infirmary, he was asleep, or reading.   Conversational gambits had been ignored.  Jack had always stuck around for a couple of hours, pretending to read reports.   Not a peep.  Daniel had successfully ignored him.  Exchanges with Sam and Teal'c had revealed the same pattern.   Jack had to admit it was worrying.   Daniel had healed from injuries and trauma before.   He always did it with conversation.

He went up to Daniel, smiled wryly. "Feel up to driving?"

Daniel shrugged, winced, nodded.   Jack pulled his housekeys out of his pocket and slapped them into Daniel's hand.  "Go.  I'll pick up a six-pack and meet you."

"Uh--but--"

"I just want a word with Janet first."

Daniel's brow creased, but he knew Jack's moods as well as Jack knew his.  He headed for the elevator.  Jack went for the stairs.  It was only one flight down, and he could use a little exercise.

  Janet was on duty; that was good.  He gestured her into her private office; it was the size of a broom closet, but it was the only area in the infirmary that had walls, not curtains.  Janet hesitated.   No one on the base was preemptory with her; she had saved most of their lives at one time or another.   With Jack's team, and Jack himself, it was more than once.  But seeing the expression on his face, and knowing in all probability what had caused it, she obeyed.  O'Neill closed the door after himself.

"That guy is doing more harm than good."

She sighed.   "It's an occupational hazard for psychiatrists to open wounds, Colonel.  Give him a--"

"He's under the impression that Daniel needs to get laid."

Janet's mouth opened.   In a second, she was able to close it, swallow, and speak.  "What did he say that--"

"He told me so.   What is worse, he told Daniel so.   He said Daniel is screwed up because he's still faithful to Sha'uri, which is why Daniel almost socked him during their session."

"Daniel?"   Janet's voice went up a register.   "He didn't."

"He didn't, but I wouldn't have blamed him if he had.  Look, I'm not against psychiatry.  It's very worthwhile.   But this guy is worse than MacKenzie, and I never thought I would hear myself say that."

"This is completely off the subject of Daniel's rape!"

"Don't tell me, tell him.   What's more, if he says one more time that he understands Daniel better than I do because he's had more experience with this kind of trauma, I will do more than sock him.   I will use him to wipe the stairs, which are very dirty.   Is that clear?"

Janet nodded.   "I'll speak to him."

"Good.   Because I won't, and Daniel won't unless he's in worse shape than I think he is."  Jack slammed out of the room, and Janet sank into her office chair and closed her eyes.

"Jack?   You don't think I'm--deluding myself, about finding Sha'uri?"  There was that crease again, that hadn't been altered by a beer and a half.   Kid's capacity must be increasing.   Jack sat on the couch next to him, the couch that was opposite the TV, which was tuned to a ball game neither man was watching.

"No, Daniel, I don't.   We'll find her."   Jack's voice was quiet; he had made sure to take his time getting the beer, time to calm down.   Wouldn't do to jump all over Daniel because that doctor had gotten on his nerves.  However, in the time he had calmed down, Daniel had got more upset.   He had met Jack in the hallway with his hair all disheveled, which now that it was decently short, meant he had had to be seriously running his hands through it. Jack had wasted no time pouring the beers.

"Stiles implied I was neurotic.   That I was repressing myself."   Daniel laughed unhappily and finished the second beer.  "I don't want sex with just anyone, I want my wife."

"Daniel, that guy's been reading the wrong books, that's all.  Look, I thought they disproved the old-maid theory a long time ago."

"What?"

"You know, that an unmarried woman would go crazy because she wasn't getting any.  Gotta apply to men too."  Jack sipped his second beer cautiously, as he would going into any minefield.

"Men and women are different," Daniel said vaguely.  "Sexual drives, sexual needs.  But there's even more of an individual difference than a sex-linked one."   His head flopped back against the couch cushion.  Good.   "Wish I knew what Stephen's was."  He made a face.

"What?"

"So we'd know--how many kids he's used.  God."   Sudden tears were pouring down Daniel's face.  Alarmed, Jack scrambled to find a box of tissues.

"Here.   What's the matter?"

"Oh, I--used to have a friend.   When I was a kid.   One of the foster families I was with.   He was--he was great.  Kenny."  Daniel smiled through his tears.  "Didn't make fun of me.  Liked science.   Was really interested in all the stories I told, about the digs I'd been to...."  His eyes closed.

"And?" Jack prompted.

"He was fourteen.   We were both fourteen.   Well, I had a few months to go, but we were so close.  It was like having a brother."   Daniel's eyes opened again, staring at the ceiling.  "He was raped.   Our foster father's brother.   Came for a visit, took Kenny out for ice cream.  I was mad, he hadn't taken me too.  Kenny came back--"   He swallowed.   "He was different.  Quieter.  Wouldn't talk about it.  Did tell me, never to go out alone with Uncle Bob."  Daniel's face paled.  "He--a year later--he--killed himself.  He--left a note."

Jack closed his eyes.   So that was what Daniel had been yelling at Tessa about.   "It doesn't always happen that way, Daniel."

Daniel stood up and headed for the bathroom.  When he came back, his face and hair were wet, though he was still toweling off.   "Sorry, I didn't--that was a long time ago."

"There's no time limit on trauma, Danny."

Daniel stared at the rug, still toweling.  "I'd have liked to kill Uncle Bob.  They moved me to a different home."  He looked at Jack.   "Those people on P73427.   Thinking it does the kids no harm."

"Not all of them commit suicide."

"No, obviously not.   They just carry the hurt inside.   And to be treated like it was normal.   Just a part of--of paying your taxes!"

"Droit du seigneur."

Daniel stared at him.   "What?"

Jack smiled.   "Hey, I read books sometimes.   Droit du seigneur, that was a medieval lord's right to any unmarried chick on his property, right?  This Stephen just does it with underage boys."

Daniel sighed.

"Droit de seigneur referred to a lord's right to sleep on the wedding night with the bride of any of his vassals.  It's mostly a myth.   I mean, it was a custom in early medieval times in some areas, but it could be circumvented by a monetary payment.   It was just an excuse for levying another fine.  Which is not to say a medieval lord never ravished the women on his land, just that they didn't call it that.  And it still hurts, even if it happens to a lot of other people as well as yourself."

"What about you, Daniel?"

"What about me?"

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not very much."   Daniel flexed his back carefully.

"I don't mean that."

Daniel left, and came back without the towel.  He sat next to Jack again.   "It was a bad time.   But as I keep telling everyone, I've had worse.  It doesn't mean more to me than that, Jack."

"You're sure?"

"Well, until I go berserk or crazy, yeah, I'm sure."  Daniel met his eyes steadily.

"You've been pretty quiet."

"I don't know.   I guess I've been recovering."   Daniel chuckled.   "First time you've complained about that, Jack."

"You've also exhibited 'flashes of temper,'" Jack quoted.  Not that I blame you for that last one.

Daniel's eyes shifted, as though he were listening to something.  He took a deep breath and looked back at Jack.  "I guess I'm furious.  But it's about those kids.  That situation.   I don't think it's about me, unless that's just--an additional reason to be mad at Stephen."

Jack nodded.   "Sounds sane to me.  You wanna go in tomorrow and tell Janet all that?   And about Kenny."   At the strain on Daniel's face, he added, "It'll stop her worrying.  And get us put back on the roster that much sooner."

Daniel nodded heavily.   "Okay.  I'll tell her."

"Good."   Jack studied his friend and smiled.   "I'm not letting you drive home.   Want me to drive you, or want to crash here?"

"Here."     

"Good."   Jack got up to check that the spare room was ready for occupancy.

There were no nightmares, no alarms in the night.  Jack got up first, couldn't resist cracking open the spare-bedroom door to check on his archaeologist.   Daniel lay on his stomach, sprawled cattycornered across the bed, the covers only wrapping his lower half.   Jack stared at the healing welts with narrowed eyes.  The two long cuts were closed, thin scabs that would become white scars.   Jack swore silently, closed the door quietly, and headed for the shower.

Janet listened, and appreciated Daniel coming in for their talk that morning.  But she refused to consider releasing him for active duty for another five days.  He had to build up gradually to full activity, she told him.  Afterward, she agreed with Colonel O'Neill that he seemed to be healing well.

  "That's the most he's said since he got back.   How'd you do it, Colonel?"

"Surefire technique.   I got him drunk.   Takes two beers to do it, these days."

Janet smiled.

It was a little unusual, but so were the circumstances--and I hope to God they stay unusual, General Hammond thought.  He took Daniel into his office for a little pre-mission chat, notwithstanding the frown on Jack O'Neill's face.

"Son, are you sure you're up to going back there?" he asked Jackson.

Daniel nodded.   "Yes, sir."

"Because Dr. Stiles' report indicated definitely that you shouldn't go back.  But Dr. Frasier's report indicated that she disagreed, that Dr. Stiles took the wrong tack with you."

"Sir," Daniel said, treading carefully.  "Dr. Stiles may know a lot, but he doesn't know me.  Janet does.  Jack does.   You do."

Hammond nodded.   "And you're not going out of a desire for vengeance?   Because such an attitude can get you and your teammates killed."

"No, sir, I'm going because SG-1 can do the best job.  We've been there, we know the topography and some of the people.  And Stephen has to be stopped.  We don't know which Goa'uld put that village there, we don't know if he died or just lost interest, but it's a tragedy right now."   Daniel's fists clenched at his sides; he didn't care if the General saw it.  Hammond nodded.

"Then you'd better take care of the situation."

Daniel left the office feeling better than he had in days.

PART III--RETURN

They were on the alert, going through the Gate, but the ring on the other side was deserted.   They had made sure to arrive when the planet was in darkness.  Even so, there probably were knights guarding it for days after their escape, but after two weeks, they had evidently decided the intruders weren't coming back.

Jack had hoped Tessa might have hung onto hope a while longer, stationing one of the sympathetic villagers to watch for them, but two weeks was a long time.

On the other hand, he hoped it was long enough.   Daniel stood straighter now, Janet had pronounced him physically fit.  But though he'd spent time with them these last few days, jogging, bicycling, getting back into shape, he was still too quiet.

They were all wearing the native robes over their clothes, even Carter, since they had to be able to move with some stealth through the manor house, and the manor house held no women.   They all carried rifles, but to ease any squeamishness about killing unarmed guards, their ammunition was mainly tranquillizer darts.  Their sidearms still held high capacity magazines, since there was a limit to squeamishness at close range.

It was the first time their mission was assassination.

Jack was okay with it, he only regretted that he hadn't aimed a little more carefully and hit Stephen a little harder the first time.  As far as he was concerned, courts on this planet being nonexistent and Stephen himself being the ultimate authority, the only better alternative would be if the natives took care of killing him themselves.  He certainly required killing.

Carter had few doubts, either.   She agreed that it would be better if the natives took care of their own business, but they didn't seem to have the will.  If twenty years of abuse hadn't made them act, nothing would.

To Teal'c, the issue was ludicrously simple.  Stephen was hurting children.  No one should be permitted to hurt children.  Since the natives were cowed, they would demonstrate what had to be done.

During the mission discussion at the SGC, Daniel had mostly kept his thoughts to himself.   When O'Neill asked him point-blank if he wanted to go on a purely military mission--no asking questions, no examining artifacts, only go in, strike, vamoose--he had swallowed and nodded.

"You're sure?" Jack had pressed.

He nodded again.   "I want to go," he added, meeting Jack's eyes.   Jack had accepted it.

Not that he still hadn't had doubts, about his peace-loving, squeamish, fairminded, gentle, uncoordinated archaeologist.  But Daniel had proven, more than a few times, that he could get the job done.   Whatever the job was.

So there the four of them stood, unfortunately under a moon this time, starting toward the village, wishing the manor wasn't clear on the other side of it.  O'Neill muttered at the way his robe kept getting caught in the brush they passed.  A whisper made them freeze.

"Hello!"   A smallish shape appeared out of the darkness.  It wore a dress, not a robe, and it came closer, unafraid.

"Glenna," Teal'c said.   The figure came close enough so they could see her smile in the moonlight.

"You came!   Mother was not sure."

"It is late," Teal'c said.   "You are waiting for us, alone?"

"Certes," Glenna said, surprised.  "Mother said you needed a guide.  Most people would not betray you, but some would, and--"

"What Teal'c means is, it's not safe for you to be out at night by yourself," O'Neill said.

"I am not a child.   I will be fourteen soon!"

O'Neill hid a smile in the darkness.   He thought of the boys on Abydos.   Kids all think they're immortal, he thought, and wished it were true.

"Bad things can happen, even to grown-up young women," Carter explained. They could all see Glenna's eyes widening and mouth dropping open.  She recovered quickly and shook her head.

"No, no.   Only to boys."

Samantha, Jack and Daniel all winced. Teal'c glowered.

"Uh--we do need a nice quiet way to the manor," Jack admitted.  Glenna smiled.

"I know all the ways there!   Follow me."   She darted off and SG-1 followed.

After three miles of bumping into trees, tripping over stones and roots and stumbling up and down hills, O'Neill reached out and patted her shoulder.  "Uh, Glenna?  Shouldn't we have reached the village by now?"

"We went around the village," she hissed back. "It's not safe.  We approach the back of the manor now.   You must be quiet.  There are guards."

"Straight ahead?" O'Neill whispered.  They were under the deep shadow of massive trees, where the moon did not penetrate, and even his night-vision goggles only distinguished lighter shade from deeper.   But Glenna was only a foot from him, and he could see her nod.  He reached out and caught her shoulder.  "Okay. Time for you to turn back."

"But--!"

"We'll risk leaving by the front."  He took her by both shoulders.  "Thank you.   Go home."

"Your mother will be anxious about you," Carter whispered, moving up.

"No, she won't."   There was both annoyance and puzzlement in the tone.  Carter frowned.

"We are anxious about you.   Go home."

Reluctance evident even in silhouette, Glenna turned and slid her way through the trees.   Three members of SG-1 breathed out in relief.   Teal'c faced the impenetrable trees and moved forward.

The back wall of the manor loomed out of the clearing just ahead.  O'Neill nodded, impressed.  She was a native, but even so, dark as sin under those trees, and she had led them directly opposite the back entrance.  There were two knights on guard, marching slowly back and forth.

O'Neill sighed at the forty yards of tall grass ahead of them.  There was no other cover.  He dropped and began to wriggle forward.  Carter fell behind him; he could sense Teal'c moving parallel.  Both were soldiers; he couldn't hear either of them.   Further behind, he could hear Daniel's heavy breathing, and wondered how their non-soldier was making out.   He would trust Daniel to keep up, during a normal mission, but there was no way that this one was normal.

Several yards ahead, to his left, something reared up and brought down one of the knights.  The other whirled and drew his sword, but by that time O'Neill had tackled him.  One quick slash with his knife; they could not risk an alarm being raised.

Carter was at the massive arched opening in the wall; O'Neill saw her signal the go-ahead.  Teal'c joined him; Daniel rose, panting, behind them.

They stayed close to the wall until a door presented itself, but Daniel shook his head, gesturing to the turret further along.  There were two, but O'Neill remembered Stephen's quarters being in the rear.   He nodded and they hurried to the door in that wall.

The door wouldn't budge; Stephen wasn't that confident of his guards.  Skeleton keys wouldn't be of use in that massive lock; O'Neill placed a pencil charge in it and shuffled backward.  The pencil hissed and flared; the lock fell out with a soft clank.   SG-1 held their breath for a count of ten, then O'Neill pulled the door open.

There was no knight waiting for them; the circular stairway was silent. Torches were blazing in the wall sconces; O'Neill and the others pushed their night vision goggles to the top of their heads.

As O'Neill led his team upward, he thought that seldom had a mission gone so well.  But the time to think that was back at the SGC debriefing room.

They went up the two flights unchallenged.  There was Stephen's floor.  O'Neill grimaced at the memories; he could only imagine what was in Daniel's mind.   He flattened himself on one side of the door; Teal'c was opposite him. Would Stephen have changed his quarters after one of his prey--O'Neill would have bet it was the first--had escaped?   If so, this could be a trap.

He pressed down the latch, gently, and nudged.  His Beretta was in his other hand.  The door swung open.   O'Neill took a deep breath, feeling sweat trickle down his back.  He entered the room.

Darkness.  He approached the mound on the bed carefully, jammed his gun into Stephen's throat when the man sat up suddenly.  Even in the darkness he could see that glare.   "Quiet," he whispered. 

"Why?" Stephen retorted, his voice slightly distorted by the gun barrel.  "You are here to murder me, are you not?   What will I gain by silence?"

O'Neill pressed a little harder.   You little shit, he thought.   You arrogant son of--

"O'Neill, " Teal'c rumbled.   "I will do it."

O'Neill drew his knife.   "I've done it before," he said quietly.

"I beg for the privilege of ending this worthless one's life."

"You can't," Daniel said suddenly.  O'Neill tossed a glare over his shoulder.

"Daniel, what are you talking about?  Go in the hall if you don't want to watch."

"Jack, you can't.   Teal'c's right, he is worthless.   But S-Stephen's right too.   It is murder."

"Daniel, Teal'c and I just killed two guards--"

"But they were armed.   They had s-swords, and that one swung at you, Jack, before--"

"Daniel!"

"Daniel, there's no alternative," Samantha said.  "The villagers won't do it.  You can't allow more children--"

"They have to do it.   They have to defend their own children.   Or they--they'll never learn how."

"Can we have a civics lesson later?  We have to get out of here--"

"Go," Daniel said.   "I'll tie him up.   I'll take him back to the village."

"Where they will let him go and tie you up," O'Neill said furiously.  "Of all the stupid--do you have a martyr complex?"

Samantha frowned.   "We could take him to Tessa.   She said she and her friends have accounted for some of the knights.  Maybe--"

"Did she suggest she wanted the responsibility of ending Stephen's life?  Of taking on forty knights at once?"

"Jack, probably with him dead--or--or even captured, the knights will give up," Daniel said.   "They'll have no authority."

"Right, they'll give up their nice cushy livelihood and go forage in the wilderness."   Jack rolled his eyes upward.   "This is not a debating society."

"No, but it's not our society."   Daniel reached for a length of supple leather, shuddering slightly.  He grabbed Stephen's wrists and tied them in front of him, cutting off the excess with his knife.  Jack looked on in frustration.  Daniel then shook out one of his handkerchiefs and tied it around Stephen's mouth as a gag.   He met Jack's eyes.   "Please.   Let's go."

Jack exchanged looks with Carter, with Teal'c.  Both gave him the approximations of a shrug.  Jack was reminded of the Byrsa's planet, of the population believing only the victims of a crime could mete out justice.  Daniel was the victim here--one of them.  He sighed, and slid his knife away. He was going to regret this, he knew it.

Even encumbered by Stephen--this was getting to be a nasty habit, Jack thought--they went down the two flights unchallenged.  There were no knights guarding the interior of the front door, but O'Neill would have placed money on guards being outside the door.  He hesitated, then swung it open.  He heard the sibilant sound of a sword emerging from leather, then the owner hove into view.  Sir Marus stared at O'Neill.

"You!"

"Skewer them first!" snapped a second guard, unsheathing his sword.  "They have Lord Stephen."

"And we must be cautious on that score!" Marus replied, jamming his sword against the other.   Both SG-1 and his fellow knight stared at him, shocked.

"Right," O'Neill said, recovering.  Daniel and Teal'c had Stephen gripped between them; O'Neill let his knife rest against Stephen's throat.  The Lord had been squirming at sight of his guards; he stopped.  "Let us pass."

"Move aside!" snapped Marus, shoving his fellow knight against the wall.  "Dare you risk Lord Stephen's life?"

O'Neill's eyes met Marus's; he could swear he saw a smile in them.  He nodded slightly.  Then he herded his team past the knights, going as near a dead run as they could manage while dragging Stephen.

"I will carry the ---," Teal'c said, using an unfamiliar Jaffa word probably unfit for general usage.   O'Neill made a mental note to ask for a definition later.  Right now he was only pleased that they made better time with Stephen slung across Teal'c's broad shoulders.  They pounded along the walled path, ears straining to hear what they expected to be the imminent sound of pursuing knights.  But the night remained quiet around them.

They reached the village, continued toward the Stargate.  O'Neill realized they had no idea how to get to Tessa's house.  Until a small shadow detached itself from a lane and blocked their path.

"You brought him!" Glenna said in amazement.

"Thought I told you to go home!" O'Neill replied.

"I did!   But then I came here to wait for you.   I was worried."

"Is there a village council?" Daniel asked urgently.  "A--a group of people who make decisions?  Like which knights to kill?"

"There are a few people," Glenna said cautiously.

"Your mother is one of them, right?"

Glenna nodded briefly, her eyes on Stephen.  Who was listening to all this, O'Neill thought with a groan.

"Can you summon them, tonight?"

Glenna frowned, then nodded.

"Good," Daniel said, in relief.  "Tell them to come to the stone circle.  Tell them we have Stephen, and they must decide what to do with him."

"That is no decision," Glenna said scornfully.

"Well, tell them.   And tell them to hurry," Daniel said.  Glenna nodded and ran off.

SG-1 continued to the Stargate, slowing down when they were within sight of it.  But it was still silent and unguarded.

"I think Sir Marus is on our side," Samantha said, as Teal'c put Stephen down, not gently.

O'Neill nodded.   "Yeah.  Don't know how he prevented that other guard from sounding the alarm, but evidently he did.  Daniel, get ready to dial home."

"But Jack, if the other knights do attack--"

"Who are they going to attack?   The whole village?   We'll wait here for the trial, Daniel.   Then it'll be up to them to put their social order back in a different order."  He smiled.   "Gotta hand it to you--it was a stupid idea, but it might work."

"Well, we didn't risk much more, leaving with Stephen, than we would have, leaving without him.   And Jack, you said that time, that anytime you choose to kill someone--"

"Yeah, right," O'Neill said quickly.  "You're right, Daniel."  He reached out and ruffled the younger man's hair.  Daniel smiled at him.

Out of the night, several figures approached.  Tessa was one of them.   Beside her walked Glenna.

"Colonel O'Neill," Tessa said.  "Thank you for returning."  She did not look at Stephen.  "We are glad for this opportunity to choose a new Lord."

"Might do well to choose a Lady," O'Neill said dryly.  "Be a change, wouldn't it?"

Tessa's eyebrows went up.   "I do not know if my people would listen to a Lady," she said.  "But it is a thought."  She smiled, shedding years.  Then she turned to the other villagers.  "Lord Stephen's reign of terror ends tonight!"

Every one of the ten or so men and women nodded.  Several knives appeared.   In the darkness, Stephen was surrounded.  He let out one muffled exclamation.  The crowd parted.

"I have always thought Aleister would make a good Lord," one man said calmly, abandoning the body.

"I thought Norman."

"Perhaps--"

"We will go among the people tomorrow," Tessa said.  "And put our choices to them."

"I suggest you make Sir Marus head of the knights," O'Neill said.  "He let us take Stephen and escape."

"He has always been a good and fair knight," Tessa said.  "All of that kind who are left, chafed at Stephen's rule.   Your suggestion has merit."

"You must come back," Glenna said to Samantha.  "When we are all better here.  You must come and visit."

"I would like to," Samantha said.  "And you'll remember what I said, about bad things happening to girls, if they're not careful?"

"That is true," Tessa said, putting her arm around Glenna.  "Perhaps we have been so worried about our sons for so long, we have forgotten to cherish our daughters."

"All children should be cherished," Teal'c said.

O'Neill nodded, gesturing to Daniel.   Momentarily, he couldn't speak.   Daniel understood anyway; under his touch, the blue light of the Stargate gleamed.

"Good-bye," he said.

"Thank you, Daniel," Tessa said. "This place brought you only pain, but you came back to help us."

Daniel ducked his head, embarrassed.   Jack took a step forward, drawing Tessa's eyes, wishing he could scream at her that if they'd stopped Stephen twenty years ago, it wouldn't have been necessary for Daniel to go through that, not to mention their own kids.  But meeting her eyes, he couldn't.  Even though it had been partially her fault, she had lost a son.  It had been his fault that he'd lost his own, and no one had stood up and screamed at him more than he had.  He sighed and stepped through the gate.

     Janet was waiting on the other side, along with the General and the requisite soldiers.  She frequently was, since the teams so frequently needed her.  But with her was a woman Jack had never seen before.   He raised an eyebrow as, after running her eyes over the team automatically to check for injuries, Janet and the strange woman stepped forward.

"Glad to see you home," Janet said, smiling a little uncomfortably.  O'Neill began to frown as she focused on Daniel.   "Dr. Jackson, let me introduce Dr. Leslie Tannenbaum."

"Uh--hi," Daniel said, smiling tentatively as he took the woman's outstretched hand.   She was about forty, short and overweight, with flyaway dark hair and dark eyes.  She wore, O'Neill thought, the requisite glasses.  She was wearing street clothes.

"Dr. Tannenbaum is a psychiatrist," Janet added, trying to maintain brightness.   O'Neill rolled his eyes.   Samantha, initially pleased at seeing another woman, looked dismayed.  Daniel snatched his hand back.

"I don't want--"

"Dr. Jackson, I'm so pleased to meet you," Dr. Tannebaum took over.  "I majored in anthropology at Duke as an undergrad.   But then I got raped, and it made me so mad, I changed majors."  Daniel's mouth fell open.  O'Neill blinked at her.   Samantha and Teal'c stared.   "I used to throw crockery, you know, but it upset my husband, all that noise and waste, so now I throw tissue boxes."  She took Daniel's arm and led him, unresisting, out of the room.  "No breakage, and they satisfy that urge to hurl things.   Do you feel it?"

"Uh--sometimes," they heard Daniel say as the pair vanished.

Janet beamed.   O'Neill nodded.

"This one might not be so bad."

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August 24, 2001 Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters and background are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions and Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership. The original characters appearing herein, the story idea and the story itself are the property of the author. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended. No money whatsoever has changed hands. Not to be archived without permission of the author.