• Warning : rape, heavy duty angst, language
• SUMMARY : The aftermath of Need.
• PG-13 [1st] [A] [D] [M]

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I could have died.

I could have been lying on the floor bleeding to death.

I wanted to cast this man off and never call him my friend again. But something inside me wouldn't let me. Something inside me insisted on making me rock back and forth in the dark, listening to the broken sobs of the one who would have been my killer.

I wanted to be angry, because that would mean this man wasn't my friend. That would mean I could avoid the emotional fallout that was sure to come. I may be stubborn and arrogant and military to the core, but I'm not that much of a bastard. Daniel clung to me and I let him, and listened to him cry. I'd been there.

And then the soft sounds ceased without warning. With a sigh, Daniel's arms dropped by his sides. His body suddenly became dead weight in my arms. Slowly and painfully, I stood up and held him roughly, trying to support his head, but the weight forced me to sink to the ground again, and in the dark, I could hear how Daniel's breathing had slowed down. The doctor was right. His body was shutting down.

A knock on the door made me stir. "Colonel!" a voice called.

It was the doctor, armed with the meds and a gurney. And every interested person in the entire base. I was not going to let them see Daniel like this. I didn't care what I had to do, but they would not make this gossip for the masses. Trying not to look at all as if this was remotely out of the ordinary, I dragged Dr Frasier into the closet.

"Doc," I hissed. "Get them away from here. Please. Daniel's... gonna be okay. Really. Just get them away from here."

Bless her, she did what I asked, and she did it immediately. I heard her go out and close the door behind her, I heard her muffled voice briskly giving orders. In the darkness, I held Daniel close to me. He was stirring a little now, eyes darting back and forth under tightly closed lids. He was dreaming. For his sake, I prayed nothing hurt him any more, even dreams. I was grateful he didn't know what was going on. This was a memory he could do without.

When the doctor pushed open the door again, I looked out. The corridor was empty. I sighed then, a sigh of relief, and let Dr Frasier help me carry Daniel out there.

I felt like I was carrying a corpse.

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When they decided what to do with Daniel, I wanted to kill them. Admittedly, it wasn't our doctor who was behind it. It was some new guy - actually he wasn't all that new. I seemed to remember him as the guy who hypnotised us during that whole affair on Oannes. I've forgotten his name; it doesn't matter. But I remember his demands - he wanted Daniel sectioned and restrained. I wanted to kill him. To stop me from killing him, Hammond let me arrange things the way I wanted them arranged. It wasn't really that simple, but that was what it boiled down to.

And what I wanted was simple. A single room with no windows and only one door, and peace and quiet and the right to be left alone. I promised them all I would get Daniel through the whole mess of withdrawal, if only they wouldn't hurt him in any way. The doctors said they were here to help; sometimes I wondered. And Daniel's screaming didn't help. His body was shutting down, but his mind was going into overdrive. I was scared those restraints would turn out to be the only thing needed to send him over the edge and into screaming, vengeful insanity.

One night, quietly, I picked up Daniel and carried him out of the infirmary. I didn't want stretcher bearers and all that crap - the SGC grapevine would have gone haywire. The doctor wasn't too happy about it, but I think she trusted the general, and the general trusted me.

I wasn't too sure about trusting myself, but I tried to tell myself I could trust in Daniel. He hadn't shot me when he had the chance - I tried telling myself that that was a good sign, a sign there was something of Daniel left inside the drug-addicted mess of a human being I was carrying. But in the end, all I was doing was resting my hopes on a single slim chance. A chance I could bring Daniel back.

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And that's how I got here. That's how I got here, a darkened room, three o'clock in the morning, in what could almost be described as a surreal situation if it weren't so horribly disturbing.

Thank God it's so late, and thank God we're so far away from the base proper up here. This is just some abandoned VIP room, but I'm grateful for it.

Daniel is in the grip of something like a seizure. Every fibre of his being is crying out for the sarcophagus, for the mechanical stimulus that will make it all better, and as long as he's like this I know, I just know, he's going to try to cut and run. The pain is too much for him to bear and keep his mind. He screams once, and then his body jerks. I'm not wrong. He's going to run. I move forwards and catch both his wrists, and for a minute, we're at eye level. He stares right at me with such intensity I want to look away, but I dare not for fear of letting him go. The screaming turns into sobbing, and I hold him again, like I did in the storeroom, only this time I'm not afraid. Daniel can't, wouldn't hurt me.

I let him cry. At first the sound reminds me of a child, crying without restraint, but as the minutes pass, the broken sobs fade, until there's just the occasional catch in his breathing, then nothing. His eyes close, and he's sleeping again. I think it's something all addicts have in common, how much they sleep. Daniel's sleeping as deeply as he can without passing into a coma; it's partly because of the utter exhaustion brought on by constant pain and hysteria, and it's party because of the sedatives Dr. Frasier was giving him. She tries not to give them to him unless it's really necessary, but sometimes it is. There comes a point where I can't take any more, and for Daniel's own sake, she stabs him with the needle. I try not to feel relieved when his eyelids drop and there's silence for the first time in God knows how long, but I can't help myself. I can only take so much. I know it's not all Daniel's fault, but... I don't know. When he's capable of holding a conversation, then we'll talk.

Right now, there's just darkness and bringing Daniel back.

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Daniel is awake, and he's screaming again. There is nothing I can do except grip his outstretched hand, though I'm not even certain he knows I'm here. I want to do something for him, anything, but this is his pain and there's nothing I can do for it.

He's lying in a strange position, not in the bed but on it, and with his mouth slightly open, and twitching and writhing from side to side. It's lasted a long time, but the screaming is only intermittent now and I wonder if he's really asleep and dreaming, or else awake and in pain. It's hard to tell the difference, as he keeps his eyes closed all the time now. It's maybe some kind of defense mechanism - or maybe it's just instinct. In this state, perhaps instinctual behaviour is all he's capable of.

And then his eyes open. He is awake. He's watching me, and even in the dim light I can see his eyes are burning with a feverish light. On an impulse, I sit up, grab a glass of water from the side and force him to drink, thinking maybe it will cool him down and stifle his screams. He only resists for a moment, and then gives in and drinks. As I take the glass away, I hear it.

"Thank you."

That's the first time he's spoken in three days.
That's how long this has been. Three days. Three days of purgatory for Daniel and hell for me.

How can I watch this happen to him? I don't want to assign blame - maybe it is partially his fault, but hell, no-one deserves this. No-one. Not even the godslayer and his princess bitch.

I have let no-one up here, except Dr Frasier, who gets food for us both, and sometimes medication for Daniel, nothing fancy, only simple painkillers and things she thinks might help. I think she understands why I had to do this. Why I had to take just one shot at trying to save Daniel myself.

She helps me. Apart from that, we're on our own. Throughout this whole mess, I guess that's how it was meant to be. It's hard work. There have been moments when I've wanted to scream myself, but I can't. I have this horrible feeling I'm the only thing between Daniel and a complete mental crack-up.

I guess he must know I'm here by now. Every time he wakes up sweating and shaking, I'm here. Every hour, I try and make him drink if he's awake - if he's not I watch him sleep. Every day I try and get food of some sort into him, but it's an uphill struggle and even the doctor tells me it's not so important - it's the water that's important.

Don't let anyone ever tell you withdrawal doesn't hurt. I heard a story years ago - that was about heroin addiction, but it's all the same thing. Some poor soul who was so far gone, he'd inject anything into himself, gin, vodka, water, blood. Anything to make the pain stop. It hurts that much.

Daniel and me, we're on our own. And it hurts.

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I fall asleep sometimes. When Daniel's quiet. I sleep when I can - at the beginning I stayed awake for twenty-four hours straight, but you have to give in sometime. And Daniel's quiet when he sleeps. You can barely hear him breathing. So when he's quiet, I fall asleep. There's obviously no bed for me, but I've got a chair, and not a plastic military one either. I can fall asleep in it. If I'm lucky, I wake up and Daniel's still sleeping peacefully. It's a nice sight while it lasts. When he wakes up, it's not so pretty. Being quite secure in my heterosexuality is a good thing; it means I can hug Daniel without compunction and it calms him down when mere words won't do it. I guess foster children don't get hugged often. In any case, the doctor says she'll be very surprised if Daniel remembers anything of this time when he finally comes through this whole catalogue of horrors. But it's getting better... slowly. He doesn't scream as much any more, for one thing. But he doesn't talk. One or two words, sometimes, but that's all. There's something keeping him distant, and it's not entirely withdrawal - not now, when he's sleeping through the night without waking up and causing a ruckus in the middle of it. I guess it must be guilt that's keeping him so detached. He's beginning to remember what happened down in the naquadah mines. He doesn't want to face me, and sure, I'm angry with him for allowing himself to be manipulated like that. Oh, yeah, I'm angry. But do you kick someone when they're down? We're going to sort all that out - but not now. Not when Daniel's shattered into pieces like this. I want him alive, not merely awake. Right now he's more like a zombie than a human, and it seems to be by choice.

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There are times when I wish for daylight. One of my main concerns was to keep Daniel away from prying eyes during this time, but the price I pay is keeping him away from fresh air and sunlight. I'm sure he lost track of time long ago, but the perpetual twilight down here can't have helped. Even I'm losing it slightly, looking twice at my watch, trying to remember whether it's morning or evening or day or night. I'd like to take him outside. I might try and arrange that, and I'd probably give the general a surprise while I was at it. He is a little surprised already at my behaviour, I know. But all I'm doing is protecting one of my team members from doctors who want to section him. That's all. Damnned rumour mill. People persist in thinking Daniel and me are... never mind.

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There's something about the military that kills spontaneity. Everything is organised, everything is planned, there are committees and support groups for absolutely everything. Not to mention the fact you can be court-martialled the second you step out of line.

But when I wake up in the morning, I look at my watch and I just know what to do. It's six am, and I sit up in my chair to see Daniel is awake, peacefully so, staring at the ceiling. The dim light is reflected in his eyes, and in a room that is almost dark, the effect is a little unsettling. Almost as if he has blue cat's eyes.

But he's awake. That's good. And I think I've just had a good idea. I stand up, and feel Daniel's eyes upon me. Casually, I begin to sift through the mess in the room; over the last few days, no-one's been allowed in here, and that includes the domestic staff. But I find what I'm looking for; some paper and a pen, and Daniel's fatigues.

I throw his clothes at him. "Get dressed."

His expression, his whole manner, are of someone who's just said, "What?" but he doesn't say it. He just looks it.

"Just do it," I say. I think he's obeying me, but I don't turn round and look at him. I know he's naked under the blankets. Instead, I take the pen and chew the end of it as I think what to write. It's only a brief note, so I settle for "Gone for a walk with Daniel - Col. O'Neill." In two hours' time, when she comes up here, Dr. Frasier will find it. I hope she's not too annoyed - after all, she's the one holding the needle.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

I turn round and he's standing there, watching me, dressed in drab military green with the usual black T-shirt. He looks so damn normal and familar that I want to comment, but I resist the temptation. That's not what's needed now.

He's looking quizzical. He wants something, and suddenly I realise what it is. I reach into my pocket and pull out his glasses. Throughout all of this, I've looked after them, all on the off-chance that one day, he'd wake up and ask for them.

I hand them over, he holds them to the light for a moment, and then he puts them on. There's not a scratch on them, and he blinks as everything comes back into focus.

I pin the note to the door. "Come on," I say, and he follows me unquestioningly. I lead him out into the main corridors, and down in the elevators. We're heading closer to the SGC, but we don't go all the way down. I settle for taking Daniel to the commissary. It's almost deserted. The night shift get off at seven, and it's now six thirty and they're tired. I hand Daniel a cup of coffee. The doctor wouldn't like it - hell, it's gritty, murky, and smells vaguely of petroleum. But just for a second, I think I see Daniel relax, maybe even smile. But once he's got it, he doesn't seem to want to stay. Neither do I, as it happens - when the night shift switch over, this place will be inundated with everyone trying to get breakfast of some sort, and the grapevine will be up and running.

"You wanna go?" I say softly.

He nods. I grab coffee for myself and we leave. On a whim, I steer clear of the SGC. I'd thought initially we might go to the control room, try and get Daniel back into it all, but somehow I think it's a bad idea. Instead, I lead Daniel to the elevator. He's still following me without question. Even when I press the button for level 19, and then lead him to the next elevator, he doesn't say a word. By the time we reach the surface, I don't think he's going to talk at all.

We leave the mountain's interior and see the sun is rising. We've walked half way up the mountain before I realise Daniel seems to be leading me, rather than the other way round. I think he came up here when he was helping the Tollan signal the Nox, but I'm not entirely sure.

Daniel finds a vantage point and then stops, looking at the rising sun. From where I'm standing, the sun is tinting everything red. I'm not a poetic guy by nature, but I've reached the point where I'll do anything to make Daniel come out of himself. "Look at the trees," I say. "They're red."

"Don't talk to me about trees."

Well, that's a start. It might be a somewhat weird thing for him to say, but at least he's talking.

"You have something against trees?" I say, deliberately keeping things light.

"Trust me." That might've been a hint of a smile there. "If it's about trees, I don't want to know."

I'm gonna say something else, but an idle glance at my watch sends me into a mild panic. I hadn't realised how much time has passed.

"Daniel," I say, "I need to go down into the SGC. Carter and the general... I said I'd be there... I can take you down to the doctor first, and then..."

"Jack." He stops me gently in mid-sentence. I look at him.

"Don't worry about me. You go. I'll stay here. It's been a while since I saw the sun."

I'm about to argue, tell him I can't leave him on his own, and then I realise. He's just totally disagreed with me, formulated a plan of his own, and is going to carry it out no matter what.

"Yeah," I say. "That's okay. I've got to listen to Carter talk about viable planets for us to visit next... you know where I am, if you need me."

For a minute it looks like he's going to say something, but in the end he just nods and smiles a little.

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, glad he's looking me in the eye again, and leave, going down the mountain and away from him. When I've gone a little way, I look back for a moment. Daniel is a lone figure, holding a cup of coffee and bathed in the radiance of the rising sun.

"You know where I am, if you need me."

I turn and walk away.

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© 2004 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.