Content Warnings: Major Danny whumping, violence, language, implication of rape (but not graphically depicted)
PART ONE
Four people occupied the small, private, richly-furnished screening room. A man wearing a U.S. military uniform and sporting the insignia of lieutenant stood beside a large television monitor holding a small remote control in his hand. His expression was solemn as he faced the other three men in the room, all civilians, who were seated in comfortable chairs, watching him.
The man holding the remote turned toward the TV and pushed the play button on the control in his hand. On screen appeared a video taping that focused on three men and a woman standing together at what appeared to be some sort of official function. Two of the subjects wore civilian-style clothing while the other two individuals were in dress uniform. There was no sound to accompany the film as it played and it was obvious from the quality of the taping that the recording had been acquired surreptitiously.
The lieutenant lifted the pointer he was holding in his other hand and touched the screen briefly with its rubber tip. "The tall, slightly graying man is Col. Jack O’Neill. He heads the Stargate Command team known as
SG-1," he informed the observers. "O’Neill has a brilliant military record, served in ‘Nam and Desert Storm. From all accounts, he’s not one to mess with," the lieutenant added, a hint of admiration in his voice.
A well-dressed bald man in his late 50s and seated a little closer than his two companions studied the colonel carefully from under dark, heavy brows, gauging this was a man of more strengths than weaknesses. He took in the lean handsome face, athletic frame, intelligent, mocking eyes.
The man standing touched the pointer to the screen again. "The big, muscled guy with the hat is called Teal’C. He’s not standard military and his origins and background are unknown at this time, although he seems to have some sort of military training. Something odd there, though. Speculation has it that he’s a hired mercenary. He doesn’t seem to interact much with other military personnel other than the members of SG-1. His role on the team is unclear at this time."
"He looks most formidable ," the bald man commented in a slight accent. Then his dark-eyed gaze fell on what appeared to be the youngest of the foursome on screen. "Who’s the kid with all the hair? He doesn’t look like he quite fits with the others."
The lieutenant turned and glanced at the speaker with a slight smile on his ruddy face. "That’s Dr. Daniel Jackson. Don’t let his appearance fool you. It’s true that he’s young and non-military, but he’s all brains. Some kind of kid genius, from what I understand, with a couple of Ph.Ds after his name. Speaks a couple dozen languages, too, most of them no one’s ever heard of. Must be because his specialties are linguistics and anthropology. He serves on the team as some sort of consultant."
"That is most interesting, if puzzling," replied the bald man. Behind him his two companions remained silent, impassive, just listening and observing. "And...the blond woman? Who is she?"
The lieutenant turned back to the screen. "That’s Captain Samantha Carter. Her specialty is astrophysics and she’s quite renowned for her own set of smarts," he noted, adding, "She’s also a military brat. Her dad is Air Force General Jacob Carter."
"Ahh, the deadly combination of beauty and brains," the bald man observed wryly, and this elicited light laughter from the others in the room. The bald man then sat contemplating the images on screen. His elbows resting on the arms of his chair, he steepled his fingers together and placed them in front of his hawk-like nose, peering over their neatly-manicured tips as he studied the four people on the monitor. After several long moments of silence he looked over his shoulder at the two men sitting near him.
"We’ll start with the kid. See to it," he ordered, and with that he got up, nodded at the lieutenant, and left the small screening room.
The lieutenant stopped the tape, ejected it and turned off the television. He then walked over to a desk where four dossier folders lay. He thumbed through them quickly, picked out one, and then walked over to the two remaining men still seated who were patiently watching him.
"Okay, this is Jackson’s file. You’ll find his address in there. He seems to stay on base a good part of the time so you might have to stake out his apartment for a few days."
One of the men took the folder and flipped it open. On the left hand side was a large glossy photo of the boyish-looking Daniel Jackson. On the opposite side was a report offering general information and background on the young man.
"He doesn’t look like he’ll be much trouble," the man snorted, passing the folder over to his companion, and the lieutenant smiled in return.
"Which is likely why your boss has decided to start with him," he noted.
The two seated men glanced at each other then heaved themselves up out of their chairs and left the screening room. The lieutenant watched them go, a look of satisfaction on his face. By the time this was finished, he would be a very rich man.
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Three days later Daniel Jackson, archaeologist extraordinaire, returned to his apartment to gather up some reference books and to check on his fish and plants. He’d showered and changed into a pair of comfortable jeans and a dark blue t-shirt with white lettering that read "Year 2000 (B.C.)" which Sam Carter had presented him with on his last birthday. He was busy tidying up a bit and had just picked up a large green mug half-filled with stale coffee when he heard the doorbell followed by a sharp knock . Thinking it was Jack O’Neill who was due to drop by sometime later that afternoon to join him for beer and pizza, the young scholar hurried over to the door, opening it and saying, "Heya, Jack, you’re earlier thennn..."
Daniel’s voice trailed off as he blinked up in surprise at two tall olive-skinned men dressed in dark suits and wearing dark sunglasses who stood staring down at him with impassive expressions.
"Daniel Jackson," one of the men intoned in an accented voice, saying Daniel’s name more as a statement of fact rather than as a query.
"Ah, well, um, yeah..." Daniel began, fleetingly wondering if they were going to try and sell him something,. The thought had barely completed itself when Daniel found himself backing up as the two men forced their way into the apartment. "Hey! Who...?" the startled scholar said, taken off guard. He got no further as one of the men slammed the door shut and the other pulled out an odd-looking gun and pointed it at Daniel. The young linguist stared incredulously at the weapon and backed up even further.
"Hey, look, I...I don’t have any money..." he began fearfully, and the man holding the gun said matter-of-factly, "We don’t want money. We want you." His finger jerked on the trigger mechanism and there was a muffled whine and Daniel felt something sharp hit his chest, followed immediately by a strange chilling sensation infusing his body. He looked down to see a small projectile sticking out of his t-shirt. His face registering shock and bewilderment, he took a couple of staggering steps backward, the half-filled mug of cold coffee he was holding in his left hand falling and shattering on the hardwood floor. His vivid blue eyes widened in confusion and fear as he looked back up at the two intruders, then without a sound he crumpled to the floor, face down, unconscious.
The man who shot Daniel deftly pocketed the dart gun and he and his companion bent over the sprawled form. They flipped the young linguist onto his beak and quickly bound his wrists and ankles and taped his mouth with silver electrical tape one of the men had produced from his pocket. The darker haired of the two men slipped Daniel’s glasses from his face, put them in his breast pocket, then stood and went into Daniel’s bedroom. He returned moments later with a large blanket, and this they wrapped Daniel’s trussed body in. The other man than hoisted him up and tossed the limp bundle over his broad shoulder. They crossed back to the doorway to the apartment, opened it cautiously, then stepped out into the deserted corridor and hurried to the freight elevator which they had secured prior to knocking on Daniel’s door. Within moments the two men and their unconscious captive were gone. The abduction had taken less than ten minutes.
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An hour later Jack O’Neill sauntered up to the door marked 216 and rapped a little ditty on the wood panel. Humming under his breath, he stuck his hands in his pockets and waited for Daniel to answer. When there was no response, he knocked again, only this time in more typical fashion. Still there was no answering response from the other side. Knowing Daniel was suppose to be home but thinking that perhaps the archaeologist was in the shower or had fallen asleep, the colonel tried the door handle. It opened easily. O’Neill walked into the cluttered apartment, calling out , "Yo, Daniel... it’s me...Jack," to let him know he was there. Again, there was no sound or indication that the apartment was occupied.
(Must have run out to get something) he shrugged, glancing idly around. He started toward the kitchen to help himself to one of Daniel’s imported beers when he felt an odd crunching under his shoe and looked down, seeing the shattered pieces of the ceramic cup Daniel had dropped. The floor was still wet, indicating it had not been there all that long. With a look of puzzlement on his face, O’Neill surveyed the mess. Catching his eye and lying near the shattered china was a small metal object which Jack bent down and picked up, examining it with a frown. As realization dawned as to what he held in his hand, his demeanor changed to that of apprehension and shock.
"Oh, hell!" he muttered, staring aghast at the small tranquilizer dart in his hand.
PART TWO
Someone was speaking to him and slapping him on the face. A semi-conscious Daniel Jackson pulled instinctively away from the stinging sensation, mumbling, "D..don’t..."
"Ah-ha, he is wakening at last!" a deep, accented voice said form somewhere off to his right. Daniel felt his chin being gripped and his face turned upward. Then another slap, and another. That brought him to full if still somewhat groggy awareness. Again he tried to pull his face away. The slaps ceased and the hand holding his chin let go. He opened his eyes, blinking as he tried to gather his wits about him. His head had tilted forward again and he found that he was bound to a chair in classic movie drama fashion. Straps pinned his arms, chest and legs to the wooden chair he was seated in.
As Daniel dazedly looked up and around he saw he was in what appeared to be a gray windowless room or cell. All that was missing was the glaring exposed light bulb hanging overhead. Unfortunately what was not missing were
the villains of this terrifying and very real tableau.
Three men were in the room with him, one seated on a folding chair set in a corner of the cell to Daniel’s right, the other two men were standing over the young archaeologist. He recognized them as the two goons who had forced their way into his apartment, drugged and kidnapped him. He had a slight headache and he could still feel the hand prints of the men on his aching face.
"Dr. Jackson, so kind of you to join us," the bald-headed man said dryly. Swallowing hard, Daniel blinked owlishly at him but said nothing, afraid that if he spoke his voice would give away his rising fear and panic. He knew he was in deep shit, but he didn’t know just how deep or why but suspected from the looks of this bunch he was in it well over his head.
The bald foreigner had been studying the captive while his men tried to revive him. Jackson was smaller, more slightly built than he had appeared in the video. Perhaps that was because he’d been standing next to the blond woman, Carter. He also appeared even younger in person than he had on the monitor. His dossier had placed the youthful scholar in his twenties. With the shaggy mane of dark gold hair falling carelessly about his boyish face and trailing down to his collar coupled with his smooth glowing skin and the startling blue eyes that were now wide with the fear he knew the young man was feeling, he thought Jackson looked like he was barely out of high school let alone a multiple Ph.D. and elite member of a secret government program. The bald man smiled inwardly. Breaking this one should be easy, far easier than it would have been if he’d chosen one of the other three SG-1 members, including the woman.
An odd glint shown in his dark eyes and he smiled almost benevolently at the hapless young man before him. "I have a number of questions for you, Dr. Jackson, about this so-called ‘Stargate’ program. Shall we begin?"
Staring at him, unable to look away from that black predatory gaze, Daniel felt his heart give a lurch at the man’s words.
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Jack O’Neill, Sam Carter, and Teal’C sat in the briefing room, awaiting Dr. Frasier’s lab results on the tranquilizer dart the colonel had found in Daniel Jackson’s apartment. A few minutes earlier General Hammond had excused himself to take a call from the President. If Daniel had been abducted, chances were that it was for reasons relating to the Stargate program, and that constituted a possible, serious security breach.
Sam glanced over at O’Neill, who sat hunched in his seat, eyes cast downward, drumming his fingers along the smooth wood surface of the conference table. She knew he was terribly worried about Daniel, just as they all were, but she also knew that for Jack O’Neill the uncertainty over the fate of one of his team members and closest friends was especially hard.
When anything happened to any of them on their missions he always took it personally, although only those closest to the colonel knew the depth of those feelings and emotions. To most of the world, or at least the personnel and staff at SGC, O’Neill was as hard-edged and sometimes as hard-assed as they came. But Sam knew better, as did Teal’C and Daniel.
She exchanged worried looks with the Jaffa, who also sat frowning and thinking about their youngest team member. He and Daniel had made plans while they were between missions to play "Hounds & Jackals." The young archaeologist had been teaching the Jaffa the subtleties of the board game once played by the pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. Teal’C always enjoyed that quiet time spent with Daniel, one of the few humans he actually felt comfortable being around. Although on missions the archaeologist could become highly excitable over a new find and seemed to interact well with other cultures they encountered, Teal’C had come to learn that Daniel was also deeply introspective and innately shy ....and those aspect of his personality fit well with the Jaffa’s own contained and often meditative nature. The idea that the gentle archaeologist might be in grave danger, might at that moment be undergoing some terrible ordeal, angered and disturbed him greatly. The alien warrior vowed silently that If serious harm came to Daniel Jackson he would seek revenge and personally track down those who hurt him and kill them. He knew this may not be the ways of the people he now called his friends, but it was the way of his home planet and culture and therefore, justifiable.
Samantha knew how the colonel and Teal’C were feeling. She couldn’t conceive the team without Daniel’s unique presence and expertise. She admired and respected both O’Neill and Teal’C immensely for the outstanding
soldiers and good and brave men that they were, but it was Daniel to whom she related the most. Perhaps that was because they shared a passion for learning that only people like themselves could appreciate. She also found Daniel the easier of the three men to talk to because he not only often quickly grasped what she was saying when explaining an idea or a theory relating to her field, but he also understood where she was coming from. In addition, having been raised within the military establishment, Sam found Daniel’s relaxed, non-military demeanor somehow refreshing and even comforting . He gave the team "balance" she felt, reminding them all of their humanity and that compassion and concern for others could and should have its place in the military world. She also knew that Daniel had not found it easy to be accepted in the SGC community. She was aware that when he went on the mission to Abydos that O’Neill and his men had given Daniel a hard time, finding him to be an unwelcome and exasperating nuisance. But that had changed radically as the mission unfolded and Daniel had literally been the key that got them safely back to Earth. Thus it was Daniel’s struggle for respect and acceptance that Sam also related to so strongly, having experienced those same issues herself as a beautiful and brilliant young woman in a field dominated by hard men. But like Daniel, Sam had held her own and eventually also won the respect of her peers as well as the sometimes irascible Col. Jack O’Neill. She sighed and shifted in her chair, wondering what she and the others would do if Daniel.....
There was a flurry of activity at the doorway and three pairs of haunted eyes looked at the new arrivals. The diminutive Dr. Janet Frasier entered, papers in hand, with General Hammond hard on her heels. From the expression on both their faces, the news was not good. Janet nodded at the three SG-1 team members and sat down across from Jack O’Neill. Hammond resumed his place across from Teal’C and Sam. The general gave a slight nod, indicating the doctor should present her findings to the group.
Janet gave a heavy sigh and set the report down on the table in front of her. "Okay, it’s as we feared," she began, glancing down at the form in front of her. "The dart contained a high-potency drug that is designed to render its victim senseless within moments. In other words, Daniel didn’t stand a chance. I understand, Colonel O’Neill, that you found a broken cup or something at his apartment near where the dart was located." At her words Jack nodded grimly but said nothing. "He likely dropped it as he collapsed." Janet surmised, thinking out loud, and the colonel’s face darkened at the image her words created. Sorrowfully Janet glanced from him to the others at the table. "We also know the dart was definitely used on Daniel. The tip of it contained blood DNA that matches his."
She fell silent and for a long moment no one spoke nor looked at each other.
Then Hammond cleared his throat and said in a low voice. "As you all know, I’ve just finished speaking to the President. He has been apprised of Dr. Frasier’s test results and as such has ordered all gate activity here at SGC to cease." He paused, looking down at his folded hands, obviously reluctant to continue. The others merely sat watching him, suspecting and dreading what he was about to say. Sighing heavily, the general glanced back up at them. "Because evidence suggest that Dr. Jackson has been forcibly kidnapped and is likely in the hands of political enemies of this country, as such he is a high security risk due to the knowledge he has of the Stargate project. Therefore this program is officially canceled as of now. The Stargate itself will be dismantled and moved to a secret location where it is to be buried again and will likely remain so for many years to come."
"JezusHchrist," O’Neill muttered, pushing back his chair and standing to stare out of the smoked glass window that looked out upon another level below. Teal’C, Sam Carter and Janet Frasier exchanged apprehensive looks.
Hammond looked over at O’Neill glumly. "I understand how you feel, Colonel. None of us involved so intimately with this program wants this to happen. But you and I both know they will likely torture, perhaps even kill, Dr. Jackson to get what they want out of him. The security risk to this facility and to this nation is just too great." He looked at all three SG-1 team members, empathizing with the misery reflected on their faces. Even Teal’C, the general thought, had never looked so perturbed.
"Look, people, my hands are tied on this one. I felt it only fair to tell the three of you first since you are Dr. Jackson’s team mates and were the first team formed for this project. The other teams will be called to a meeting shortly, given the news, and ordered to stand down until further instruction." He scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "If there was something I could do, I would," he said heavily.
"What about Daniel Jackson?" Teal’C intoned, his dark eyes hooded and his brow furrowed in a deep frown.
"Damn right!" Jack retorted, turning to glare at his superior officer. "So what about Daniel, General Hammond? I’m getting images of sacrificial lambs here. Do we just....write him off as a lost cause....or should I say as a sacrifice for the cause?!" He knew he sounded accusatory and sarcastic but he didn’t care.
"Colonel O’Neill, I’m concerned about that boy and what has happened to him almost as much as you are. We are doing everything in our power right now to ascertain his whereabouts. But we must face hard facts here. That young man may be dead." As he spoke his voice grew thick and he paused, glancing sadly around at his staff, his own eyes reflecting their pain. No one wanted to think of the possibility that Daniel was dead and lost to them. Next to him Janet Frasier sniffled a little and wiped away a tear while Sam looked morose and ashen-faced. O’Neill appeared grimmer, if that was possible, and Teal’C looked completely closed off, his eyes cast downward. They had all come to not only appreciate and respect Daniel Jackson for the invaluable contributions he made to the Stargate program, but to care deeply about the unique young man himself as well. "To know him is to love him, even when you feel like killing him," Jack once quipped on a mission, summing up the feelings Daniel unwittingly aroused in others at times. And shutting down the Stargate program, which in their minds had somehow become synonymous with Daniel himself, was like disavowing his existence and purpose as well.
The general cleared his throat and looked back down at his clasped hands. "As of now you are on stand-down and thus your time is your own until you receive new orders for reassignment. Except for you, of course, Teal’C," he added, glancing back over at the Jaffa. "However, if you wish, I will personally see to it that you are assigned to go wherever Colonel O’Neill or Captain Carter are sent, or anywhere else you might choose to go. Or....if you prefer, I will even arrange for you to return through the Stargate to your own home world or any other destination before it is dismantled."
The Jaffa’s stern expression softened somewhat and a hint of something almost resembling a smile played about his grim lips. "Thank you, I will think upon it. For the moment, however, I wish to look for Daniel Jackson and those who have taken him."
"I second that!!...uh, Sirs," Sam Carter exclaimed, looking around at the others. Her large blue eyes were luminescent. It was apparent she and Teal’C were not about to give Daniel up as a lost cause just yet.
Jack O’Neill gazed at his two team members with an odd expression on his lean face, then flashed a crooked smile at Hammond and Janet Frasier, saying, "I guess that makes three of us then. Gee, I always wanted to be a Musketeer."
PART THREE
In the beginning they started with threats, and when that didn’t work, they resorted to roughing him up, but he still wouldn’t tell them anything.
"How does the Stargate work? Where was it found? Where does it go? Is there more than one? If so, where? Why is the program not officially acknowledged by the U.S. government? "
Over and over they repeated the questions, and Daniel refused to talk, despite the threats and the pain.
"Why are you, a civilian, involved in a military project? Why would they need someone of your background? Who is this Teal’C? Where does he come from? Is he a hired mercenary or a part of a secret military branch of your government?"
When the physical abuse didn’t work, they tried drugging him...and yet, incredibly, Daniel still did not tell them anything....at least nothing that they could understand anyway. Somewhere deep in his psyche and reserves of inner strength he fought the drugs and would only speak to them in some of the ancient languages he knew they could not understand or decipher.
Each day the bald-headed man received reports of Daniel’s interrogations and steadfast refusal to provide any information that could be of any possible worth. Sometimes he watched the beatings and the druggings, secretly marveling at the young man’s resilience to the violence being done to him. Jackson had looked so vulnerable, so malleable when they had first brought him there. None of them would ever have guessed the young scholar could or would hold out against them.
What they didn’t know was that Daniel was more terrified of doing something to hurt his team or the Stargate program than he was of dying at the hands of these people. Aside from the brief time he’d had with his Abydan wife Sha’re, his young life had not had any real meaning until he joined the Stargate program and became part of the team that comprised Jack, Sam and Teal’C. Daniel would literally rather die than betray them, what they stood for, or what they had come to mean to him. He knew the terrorists had singled him out because they thought he would be the easiest to break, but he was proving them wrong. And his abductors now understood that.
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A few days later the remaining three members of SG-1 once more sat with General Hammond in the briefing room, talking to another man. This individual, a Major O’Connor, was apprising the others of the latest Intell on Daniel Jackson’s possible whereabouts.
"We believe he may still actually be in the state, perhaps even close by," the major told them, adding, "Which is surprising to say the least. Subversives usually remove their victims far from where they were kidnapped."
"Why do you think this?" O’Neill asked, frowning in thought. "I mean, why would Daniel still be in the area?"
The major cleared his throat. "Intelligence indicates that the sect that may have abducted him are affiliated with a group out of Seattle who we suspect got into the country by way of the Canadian border. Their activities are being closely monitored. On the surface the group here in Colorado appear to be a division of a large international pharmaceutical company, but we suspect this is a cover. Any attempt to move Jackson to Seattle or even out of the country likely would not work given the state of alert our national security divisions are on right now."
"Do you know where Daniel Jackson is being held?" Teal’C said, cutting to the chase, suspicious that they weren’t being told everything.
Major O’Connor looked at him, startled, then glanced away. For a long moment he did not say anything, obviously trying to come to some decision. Finally he sighed and said, "We are focusing the search right now on a facility about 60 miles from here."
"If you think Daniel is there, why haven’t you made a move to get him out!" Sam Carter exclaimed.
The major had the grace to look a little nonplused at her implication, then replied, "The property is privately owned and on the surface this organization appears to be a legitimate business. So we have to use caution here, folks. The Constitution was partly based on the idea that you just don’t go kicking in people’s doors without good cause. We’re trying to gather more proof."
"What it really all boils down to is bureaucratic red tape and bullshit," Jack snorted, sitting back hard in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. The major shot him an angry glance.
"Look, Colonel, I know you are anxious to get your man back and we are doing our best to see that objective is accomplished! We’ve traced some suspicious encrypted communications from the Pentagon to this facility where we think Dr. Jackson is being held. Right now we are waiting for some additional confirmation from our hackers as to what exactly those communications entail."
"Hackers?" General Hammond commented, tilting his head questioningly.
"Yes, General. The U.S. government employs only the best you know, mostly for counter-espionage purposes, however."
"And these hackers can tell you if Daniel is there?" Sam asked.
"I’m not sure about that, Captain Carter, but we might learn something that could give us good cause to launch a raid on that complex," O’Connor answered, looking almost apologetic.
When will we know anything?" General Hammond asked.
"Within another 72 hours or so," the major replied. "Maybe even sooner. Believe me, if Jackson is there, we don’t want to leave him in their hands any longer than necessary. As it is, folks, he may not even be alive any longer. They’ve had him for almost two weeks now."
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For the moment the young man in question was still alive albeit senseless and hanging from wrist shackles affixed to the ceiling in the gray cell, unconscious from the trauma of a cattle prod that had been used on him. His shirt had been removed and his fair skin was marred and mottled with the discolored patterns of ugly bruises and small burns from the tortures inflicted upon him. Two fingers on his right hand were broken, but other than that, the abuses he had received so far were intended to inflict pain but to otherwise leave him basically intact.
When the young linguist had passed out, the men who were working him over had taken a break to get something to eat, and for the moment the cell was empty except for Daniel’s limp, dangling body and the bald-headed man who had just entered the room.
He walked over to examine the prisoner. Up close it was apparent that a good bit of surface damage had been done to the captive. Looking up at Daniel, he studied the young man’s face. Dehydration and weight loss over the past few days had only served to enhance the fine features. The long curling lashes framing the closed eyes cast delicate shadows on the alabaster skin of his cheeks, and the soft yellow light overhead illuminated Daniel’s long tawny hair and slim form in an almost mystical glow. He looked... despite the abuse done to him....ethereal and beautiful and somehow oddly innocent, the bald man reflected. And that gave him an idea of how to finally break the will and spirit of this resolute young man.
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Jack O’Neill drove away from Cheyenne Mountain and SGC angry and frustrated beyond measure. The meeting with the major from the Pentagon had offered some hope but at the same time had only served to reinforce the colonel’s sense that time was running out for Daniel. By now the terrorists must have gotten out of his young friend what they wanted to know and in all likelihood they might feel that keeping Daniel alive would serve little purpose. O’Neill had to admit to himself, as painful as it was, that the kid was probably dead. The thought struck him hard and he hit the accelerator as if to do so would leave that probability far behind him. Whatever the outcome, he would find those bastards and see that they paid, he vowed as he sped down the mountain.
PART FOUR
The interrogations abruptly ceased for a couple of days. Daniel lay curled on the cot in his cell, oblivious to the time passing as his body tried to heal itself. Trays of food and drink brought in to him went largely untouched and at one point he was roused and forced to eat and drink something. Otherwise, he was left alone.
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The bald man slammed down the phone and jumped up from his desk to begin pacing his office furiously. His assistant watched in alarm, not sure what was wrong or what had happened to upset his boss so much. The bald man finally turned and barked at his subordinate, "Get a team ready. I’ve just learned from my source at the Pentagon that they’ve shut down the Stargate program. I want to know what is going on!"
"What about the Jackson kid?" the aide inquired nervously.
The bald-headed man’s dark brows knitted together in a frown of concentration. "He may still be useful as a pawn even if he knows nothing about this current development. Go through with the plan and then have him returned here for more interrogation. Remind them he is not to be killed, otherwise they can do as they wish to him." He stopped pacing and walked back to his desk and picked up a folder and handed it to the aide.
‘The team is to find this man and bring him here," he said.
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The cell door opened and Daniel heard someone enter. He was too weary to open his eyes to see who it was. Dimly he heard footsteps approach where he was lying and then someone took his left wrist in a tight grip and pulled his arm up. The movement was painful and the young archaeologist moaned and tried to pull his arm free but a harsh, guttural voice hissed in his ear, "No, boy! You will hold still!" and then a stinging blow was delivered to his face. Daniel fought to open his eyes and saw a strange man leaning over him holding something shiny in his hand. Beside him stood another man, also a stranger. A sharp, pricking sensation on his forearm followed by a rush of heat infusing his body told the half-conscious youth he was being drugged again. He moaned softly from both the despair and discomfort he was feeling. "Pick him up," the hard voice ordered, and Daniel felt himself being lifted away from the cot. Then oblivion took over.
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"Colonel O’Neill, I need you back at the base ASAP. Major O’Connor has some encouraging news for us," the gruff voice of SGC’s commanding officer said over the phone line.
"I’m out the door now, Sir," O’Neill responded, hanging up the receiver and reaching for his car keys and jacket. He hurried out the front door of his house and jumped into his jeep. Could it possibly be they’d found Daniel? he wondered with rising excitement and renewed hope. The general had used the words "encouraging news", right?
So intent was he on such hopeful thoughts that he didn’t notice he was being followed until it was too late. He was 20 miles from Cheyenne Mountain when he was ambushed.
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Daniel was shoved into a cavernous room which he did not recognize. He’d been blindfolded and transported in a van and brought to this new place. It looked like an old warehouse filled with boxes and crates. The air was musty and damp and the area he had been put in was dimly lit and very cold.
He staggered into the center of the area, then fell with a hard "thwack" to the dirty tiled floor. The drugs were still in his system, rendering him weak and woozy. His abused body ached all over and a dull, nagging headache seemed to be pinpointed right behind his eyes. His right hand, with the broken fingers, throbbed unmercifully. They’d kept his glasses and he was barefoot with only his t-shirt and light-cotton jeans to protect him from the chill, damp air. It did not take long before his slender frame was racked with shivers. After putting him in there, they’d left him alone. Daniel sat dejectedly on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around himself for warmth and his forehead pressed against his bent knees, telling himself this was just another tactic the kidnappers were taking to try and frighten him. Mind games, he thought, maybe they were just playing mind games with him. Lock him up in this cold, scary place and leave him here indefinitely with no food or water or warmth until......
He heard the door to the room grate open again and he looked up blearily. Through the gloom he saw the large bulk of a man enter...followed by another man....and then a third. The door closed behind them and the three large shadowy forms moved toward him.
"Hello, kid," one of them said in a tone of mock friendliness.
As they loomed over him Daniel stared up at them with a mixture of fear and apprehension. They were a rough and nasty looking bunch and something in their expressions made the hair on the back of his neck rise.
"Kinda pretty, ain’t he?" the largest of the three commented, grinning down at Daniel. The expression on his face was....feral.
"Blond blue-eyed candy asses are a prized sweet meat in the pen," the third man drawled to his companions, adding as he gazed back down at Daniel, "Did ya know that, kid?" He then snickered nastily, and his two companions also chuckled, leering down at the young man huddled at their feet.
(Ohmigod!) Daniel’s heart began to pound frantically as he realized what was about to happen and he scrambled awkwardly to his feet and tried to back away from them, bumping into a wall of cartons behind him. Trapped, he held his good hand out in front of him protectively, desperately, as if to ward them off. "D...don’t t-touch...me," he stammered hoarsely, his body visibly quaking from fear, cold, and the effects of the drug.
The three thugs looked at each other and laughed wickedly, then advanced on the smaller man.
--------
General Hammond picked up the telephone at his desk. "Has Colonel O’Neill signed in yet?" he inquired.
Sam Carter and Teal’C, seated across from him, could hear the faint reply from the other end. "No, General, there’s been no sign of him yet."
The general frowned. "Very well, Call me as soon as he checks in," he ordered, and hung up. He looked at his watch. "He should have been here by now."
Sam and Teal’C exchanged concerned looks. "Perhaps Colonel O’Neill has had trouble with his vehicle," the Jaffa offered.
"Mmmm, perhaps," Hammond nodded, ‘But still, he has a mobile phone..."He looked at his two personnel. "Very well, why don’t we go on down to the briefing room. Major O’Connor is already there waiting for us. The colonel can join us when he arrives," he decided.
PART FIVE
Jack O’Neill awoke to find himself lying on a cot in a windowless, narrow room. He automatically brought his hands up to rub at his aching face and head, and as he did so he realized he was not bound. Save for the throbbing headache, he seemed otherwise unharmed as well. Reflexively he looked at his watch. Over six hours had passed since he had been bushwhacked on the canyon road by two vehicles which had overtaken him. He had been forced to bring his jeep to a halt and had just reached for the car phone to call for backup when a gas grenade was tossed into the jeep. Beyond that he remembered nothing until waking up in this strange room.
Slowly he sat up, stifling a reactive groan to the pounding in his head. On a small metal table near the cot was a tall clear plastic glass and a metal pitcher of what appeared to be ice water, and O’Neill reached for it and poured himself some of the welcome liquid. For a moment he wondered if it were drugged or poisoned, but then shrugged the thought aside. If *they’d* wanted him dead they’d have already killed him on the road, he reasoned, and glugged down a full glass of the cold tasty spring water. He had just finished and set the empty glass back on the stand when the door to the room opened and two large men with swarthy skins and dressed in dark blue suits entered, holding guns.
"Come with us," one of the men ordered in a commanding accented tone. O’Neill looked at them, smirked and said, "Well, since you’ve asked so nicely..." and rose to accompany them from the room. They escorted him to an elevator and then they descended to another level. From here they marched him down a couple of long corridors before coming to a stop before a dull gray door.
One of the men opened it and O’Neill was prodded into a small, dimly lit cell. Behind him he heard the door close and lock. He glanced around the room wondering why he’d been brought there. In one shadowed corner was a cot similar to the one he had awaken on and something, or someone, seemed to be lying on it hidden under a blanket. He thought he caught the sound of labored breathing and a glimpse of gold hair, and a sense of foreboding infused his being as he moved over to look down upon the cot. With a shaking hand he reached down and pulled back the coverlet. What he found ripped straight through his gut.
"Oh, Christ, oh, god dammnit," he cried as he sank to his knees besides the still form lying there. It was Daniel. He knew it was Daniel, although he could barely recognize the younger man. The archaeologist looked frail and broken, bruised, bleeding. There seemed to be no part of him that wasn’t damaged in some way. His boyish face, now barely recognizable, was swollen and bleeding. The long blond hair was matted with dried and fresh blood and both of his eyes were swollen shut. Deep, bleeding gashes on his brow and face marred the finely-sculpted features. His arms bore dark bruising and it was apparent that his right arm at least was broken, as was his hand which was swollen and discolored. The young man’s clothing was badly ripped and torn and soiled. Where Daniel’s t-shirt had been torn away, exposing his stomach and chest, the colonel could see livid welts across his torso, along with more ugly bruising; and from the sounds of Daniel's labored breathing Jack knew he had broken ribs and worse. His jeans were torn and filthy, and one pants leg was ripped from mid-thigh to mid-calf and through the torn material O’Neill could see the raw, bloody mass of Daniel’s knee. The arm that wasn’t broken showed raw needle tracks that marked the surface of the tender flesh. There was ugly bruising along his chin line and on his throat that were in the shape of large finger marks. Jack had no doubt that the youth’s back and lower body held similar evidence of the beating and other tortures he’d suffered. He’d seen similar results of interrogations of prisoners while serving in ‘Nam and Desert Storm.
With hot tears of rage and anguish filling his eyes, O’Neill raised up on his knees and leaned over the slim form, gently cradling his arms around his young friend. "Oh, Danny...oh, Danny, I’m so sorry," he choked, his voice thick with compassion and grief as he stroked the dirty, matted hair.
The younger man stirred slightly at the comforting touch and the sound of Jack’s voice and the colonel felt him trying to focus on who was with him. But the eyes were too swollen shut and the thick lashes blood-caked and Jack knew Daniel could not see him.
"It’s me, Danny, Jack," the colonel told him, gently cupping his face. "They brought me here to be with you. Somehow I’m going to get us out of this. Don’t try to talk...just rest, okay?"
For a moment t there was no response, then Jack heard him mutter weakly, "Fubar."
"What?" O’Neill replied, not sure he’d heard Daniel correctly.
"Fu...fubar...me," the young linguist murmured though swollen lips, and made a sound that was a cross between a short laugh and a rattling gasp.
O’Neill sat back a little on his haunches and stared at his friend. Fubar. Daniel had actually said *furbar*, one of O’Neil’s favorite expressions that he’d gotten from a Kurt Russell movie once. The expression "fubar" was an acronym for "F**ked up beyond all recognition." That’s what Daniel had said. "Furbar. Me." Even in this horrific state, he’d managed to make a bad joke.
O’Neill patted the young scholar’s shoulder affectionately. "Daniel, anyone ever tell ya you’ve got an odd sense of humor at the weirdest times?"
The blond head gave an almost imperceptible nod .
--------
An aide knocked on the briefing room door and at General Hammond’s invitation to enter, opened the door and crossed the room to hand the general a message. Hammond took it and read it carefully. As he did so his expression grew hard, and Sam, Teal’C, and Major O’Connor exchanged uneasy glances.
Hammond glanced up at the aide and said, "Thank you, son. That will be all for the moment." The young man nodded and quickly left the room.
The general looked worriedly around the conference table at the three people watching him. "Colonel O’Neill’s jeep has been found a few miles from here, abandoned."
--------
They’d been together only a short time when the cell door opened and O’Neill turned from where he was kneeling over Daniel to see three men enter. One was an elegantly dressed bald-headed man flanked by the same two men with guns who had brought Jack to Daniel’s cell.
"Colonel O’Neill, your concern for your young friend is most touching," the bald man said in a mocking tone.
Jack got to his feet and took a step toward the three. "He’s just a kid, for Christ sakes, and he’s not military! If you wanted to know about the Stargate program, why didn’t you take me from the beginning!"
"Because I thought the young man would be the easiest to...convince...to share what he knows with us." Here the bald man looked over at Daniel and sighed. "However, to my utter amazement, the boy has proven tougher than he looks."
"You’re damn straight on that one," O’Neill bit out.
The bald man ignored his remark and said, "But now we do have you, Colonel O’Neill, and I am sure you will cooperate with us fully."
"And what makes you think that?," O’Neill retorted, folding his arms across his chest, and the other man gave a heartless laugh.
"I’m afraid that if you refuse to cooperate, Colonel, than your young friend will be the one to pay the price. As you can see, he is already suffering greatly. Do you desire to be the reason he suffers even more?"
Dropping his arms to his sides, his fists clenching, Jack took another step closer, fire blazing in his eyes. Two guns raised to center more fully on him, but he ignored them.
"That’s always the way with you bozos, isn’t it? Hurt or kill the innocent and defenseless. Plant bombs in places that will be sure to maim or kill women and children or the elderly, blow up airplanes that have families on board...."
"We do that because it is effective," the bald man replied coldly. "Enough philosophizing! Shall we begin?" he said. At his words one of the men with him moved to stand over Daniel while the other continued holding a gun on O’Neill.
PART SIX
At first Jack refused to answer their questions just as Daniel had, but he soon learned that the threat to do Daniel bodily harm if he did not cooperate was not an idle one. At a nod from the bald man the guard hovering over Daniel reached down and gave a twist to the young man’s broken arm, forcing an agonized moan from him.
"You see, Colonel, the boy WILL pay for your silence," the elegantly-dressed man told him.
Jack wanted desperately to pound the smirk off the man’s arrogant face but he knew that to leap for the bastard would only likely get both himself and Daniel killed. Swallowing his rage, he locked eyes with the other man and said in a tight voice, "All right. You’ve made your point. Just don’t touch him again."
"As I have said, he will only be further harmed if you refuse to answer my questions. Now, let us try this once more. What is the Stargate project? Where was the artifact found? What is its function or purpose?"
"Hasn’t Daniel already told you all of this anyway?" O’Neill scowled.
The man smiled coolly at him and again flickered a glance toward where Daniel lay moaning softly. "In truth the young man has told us nothing," he admitted.
"Nothing? Are you telling me that you’ve had Daniel all this time and he hasn’t given you any information about the project?" O’Neill asked in disbelief.
"Unfortunately, Colonel O’Neill, that is precisely the truth. I see you are just as surprised as we are. How interesting, eh? Now, back to my questions..."
Jack’s thoughts were racing. Daniel hadn’t told them anything....despite what they’d done to him, the young linguist had kept silent!! He had NOT endangered the program after all, despite the fears of the President or Hammond, or--Jack had to ruefully admit to himself--even his own.
Taking a deep breath O’Neill answered in a tight voice, "The Stargate program is designed to explore..."
"Nooooo! Ja’k....can’t...tell...them...." Daniel rasped from behind him.
The colonel turned and moved back to bend over his young friend, ignoring the menacing stance of the other guard. "Daniel, I have to..or they’ll just hurt you more, buddy. I can’t let that happen."
The young man felt for and grabbed at his friends’s wrist, obviously greatly agitated.
"D..doesn’t...matter...about...me....pl...please...d-don’t....tell....." Daniel’s voice trailed off and his hand dropped from Jack’s wrist and fell limply to his side.
"Daniel?" There was no response. His fear escalating, the colonel leaned over the lax form, quickly checking for a pulse. With relief he found one, but it was thready and faint, and he realized that Daniel’s breathing had grown harsher and more shallow. He whirled to face the bald man who stood watching them with an impatient look on his hawk-like face.
"He needs a doctor! You can’t let him die! He’s...he’s too valuable to you!" O’Neill exclaimed desperately.
"Valuable? In what way?"
"Daniel’s the only one who fully understands the symbols on the Stargate," Jack returned. In a flash he resolved to smoke screen, to muddle the truth with fiction. Daniel would not last much longer without medical attention and he had to find a way to get that help for him, and the most likely way to accomplish that was to convince the man standing watching them that the colonel was telling him the truth about the Stargate project and Daniel’s importance to it. Daniel made a whimpering sound and mumbled something unintelligible, and O’Neill bent back over him, murmuring soothingly to the younger man and smoothed back some of the tangled hair away from his battered face. The young man seemed to quiet, and sighing heavily, the colonel straightened up and turned back to look at their captor.
"As I started to tell you, the Stargate is a sort of passageway, I guess you can call it, into inner space," he lied smoothly. "The Stargate was discovered by an old miner named Josiah Star--hence the name-- hidden in a cave here in the mountains."
"What is this ‘inner space’ you just mentioned?"
"I’m coming to that. Another such ‘gate’ was also located in, uh, Tunisia shortly after the discovery of the one here in Colorado. Writings on the structures seem to indicate they may have predated our most ancient civilizations. This is why Daniel was brought on board. He knows a lot of stuff no one else does about old languages and picto...thingys and ..."
To this the bald man nodded curtly and waved a dismissive hand, "Yes, yes, we know all about that....go on."
"Yeah, well, with Daniel’s help we were able to figure out that the gates function as a sort of passageway through inner space. In other words, to enter thru the one here in Colorado will bring you out thru the one in Tunisia in a matter of minutes." This was a blatant untruth. Jack knew travel between two gates on the same planet was not possible.
"Who created these gates?’ the bald man frowned from under his dark brows, not sure if he believed what he was being told.
"We have no idea, although Daniel has some cockeyed theories it could be space aliens or something...but then, he’s young and his generation thinks everything that can’t be explained satisfactorily, like who built the Pyramids, has to do with space aliens," O’Neill smirked, adding straight-faced, "Personally, I subscribe to the Atlantian theory."
The bald-headed man stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes glittering, again not sure if his chain was being yanked or not. Then, trying a different tactic, he asked, "Who is the large black man that is part of your team?" What is his purpose?"
"Oh, him? He ‘s just a military hard-ass for the Tunisian government. No sense of humor, that one, but a great poker face. Anyway, they have a vested interest in this thing, too, given they own one of the gates. Teal’C is along to see that our government doesn’t try to pull anything on his government. Nobody trust’s anybody these days....."
"And the woman, Carter?"
"Her speciality is science and physics. She was brought on board when we figured out we could travel between the two gates, but didn’t know exactly HOW we were able to do it. Actually, we still don’t quite understand it, but that’s what Carter’s job is, to figure all of that out someday."
"Are there other teams like yours?"
O’Neill suddenly felt this might be a trick question. It was apparent the other man had some knowledge of the Stargate program, otherwise he and Daniel would not be there, and his instinct told him this question was meant to be a test of the validity of other answers Jack gave.
"Yeah, several," he replied, looking the man straight in the eye.
"What is their purpose?"
"Training, of course. But basically, we’re all guinea pigs. No one knows what side effects traveling thru these gates might cause. We are all constantly tested between trips thru the gates...blood work is taken, blood pressure monitored, that sort of thing. For all we know, this inner space travel could be a sure way to get cancer or something."
For a moment the hawk-nosed man was silent as he thought over what Jack had told him so far. Then:
"Why is this such a top secret project? Why does the U.S. government not acknowledge this program?"
"Well, because of this inner space thing. Certainly you of all people could appreciate the value of these gates. Look how easily it would be to smuggle weapons or drugs or anything else, such as troops, in and out of a country with these suckers placed around in hidden locations. Did you ever hear of the Philadelphia Experiment? No? Well, during World War II our government performed a series of tests where they tried using vast amounts of energy to literally transport men and ships to other locations instantaneously. Legend claims it worked in some ways, but at the same time several men lost their lives in the experiments and so the idea was dropped. Actually, I think there’s a movie out about the whole thing which you can rent, although the love story angle in it is all made up...."
The bald man rolled his eyes and snapped with exasperation, "Enough digressing....are there other gates?"
"I only know of the two I told you about on this planet. But if any more turn up here, you’re definitely going to need Daniel," O’Neill replied smoothly. True, there was another Earth gate, but it was buried under ice elsewhere, not in Tunisia. And true, there WERE other celestial gates, but those were scattered around the universe; but never volunteer more than you have to, was his motto. Right now his prime concern, however, was to convince these people to get medical aid for Daniel.
"If the project is so valuable, why has it been closed down?"
Damn! O’Neill thought. He was hoping they didn’t know that yet. Behind him Daniel moaned again and he turned to glance briefly down at his youngest team mate.
"Look, can you get a doctor in to see him or something?" O’Neill snapped, turning back to the bald man.
"Perhaps, if I am satisfied with your answers when we are finished."
O’Neill sighed. "When you took Daniel the President ordered the program to be shut down temporarily and relocated because there was concern about a security breach. Again, I’m sure you can appreciate that more than most," he said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Although the bald man stiffened at his comment, he said nothing. "Our gate is to be relocated elsewhere, but I honestly don’t know where as of yet. I don’t believe that decision has been made, and that’s the truth. However, I’m guessing somewhere in Alaska," he again lied.
"Can you find this out ?" the bald man asked, frowning.
O’Neill looked at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze. "I might be able to, but it’ll take some doing. I’m only a soldier who goes where he’s ordered. I’m not privy to executive level decisions until after the fact," he said. At least that much was true.
No one said anything for a moment, then when Daniel groaned again and stirred restlessly, O’Neill said in a hard steely tone, "Now, about that doctor...."
The bald man again looked over at Daniel. "If I had realized the boy was that valuable, I would not have ordered....very well. One will be found for him." With that the bald man turned on his heel and left the cell, followed by the two armed men. O’Neill heard the door lock behind them. He turned back to Daniel and knelt down next to him again.
"Daniel, can you understand me?" he asked urgently in a whisper.
"Y..yes...." came the mumbled reply.
"Good. Look, I’ve just told them a pack of lies about the Stargate, so I don’t want you to worry about what I’ve said, okay? Also, I’ve got them to agree to get a doctor in here to see to your injuries. Right now I just need you to try to rest, okay, Danny?" he soothed, again stroking the lank blond hair. He was gratified to see a slight nod of the younger man’s head. "Somehow, we’re going to get out of this, kid," he whispered to him. "I promise you, I’m going to get you home."
--------
Two hours had passed and no one had come back to the cell to check on them. O’Neill was beginning to grow frantic with worry and fear. Daniel had fallen into a fitful sleep and his breathing was getting worse. The colonel went to the door and pounded on it, hoping to get some response, but there was none. All he could do was sit by Daniel’s side and watch over the young man, reassuring him in the brief moments that he’d awaken that he wasn’t alone.....that he won’t die alone, O’Neill thought bleakly.
--------
Someone entered his office and without looking up from what he was writing, an encrypted report to his superiors telling them what he’d learned of the Stargate project, the bald-headed man....annoyed that permission to enter had not been given....snapped, "Have you forgotten how to announce yourself?"
"No need to, partner," drawled an unfamiliar voice, and the startled man at the desk looked up to see a small group of men in military uniform pouring into his office, all pointing weapons at him. In the forefront was a tall, powerfully built commando grinning insolently at him.
--------
There was a noise outside the cell door and O’Neill looked up, expecting it to open to admit either the bald man or one of the guards. However, the door did not just open, it burst open and a number of people rushed into the room, guns drawn. In the forefront were two familiar forms and faces.
"Carter! Teal’C!" O’Neill exclaimed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. He jumped up and went to meet them. Behind them stood four men in military camouflage also armed and ready for any sign of trouble. "I can’t wait to hear all about this!" the colonel said, "But right now we need to get medics down here for Daniel. I want him life-flighted, if need be, to the nearest hospital ASAP!"
Sam and Teal’C looked past him to where they could see Daniel lying on the cot. "I’m on it, Sir!" Sam replied, turning and rushing from` the room, taking two of the soldiers with her.
Teal’C moved to stand over Daniel, taking in the young man’s shocking condition. "Where are those who have done this?" he muttered, his tone and body language menacing, his eyes glittering dangerously.
"I know, Teal’C..I feel about it like you do. If I could I’d personally shoot the bastards dead...but that’s not our way here....they’ll have to stand trial...."
"Will they be convicted?" the Jaffa asked, his eyes burning with rage.
"If they aren’t, then you and I will hunt them down, I promise you," O’Neill told him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
PART SEVEN
Janet Frasier came out to the ICU waiting room to seek out Daniel’s teammates. She found only O’Neill and Teal’C and both men looked up at her with apprehension when she entered the small waiting area.
"Where’s Samantha and General Hammond?" she asked.
"Carter went with the general to get us all some coffee," Jack replied. "How’s Daniel?"
Janet walked over and stood in front of the two men, finding it hard to meet their eyes. She shoved her hands in her white coat pockets and wet her lips, thinking how she might tell them what she had to say.
"He’s stable right now, although heavily sedated. He was severely...brutalized," she began.
"Yeah, no kidding," O’Neill muttered shifting restlessly in his chair. Something else was up, he could tell, by Janet’s demeanor.
"Will Daniel Jackson recover?" Teal’C asked, also feeling uneasy.
"Barring no other complications and given enough time, I think so, at least... physically," she said. She glanced at both men then looked away again. "Ah, look, there’s something else the doctors discovered when they examined Daniel," she said, and immediately she saw both men tense.
"What do you mean?" O’Neill replied, his voice low and tight. "Discovered what?" In a split second a half dozen awful thoughts raced through his mind. Would Daniel be blind? Paralyzed? Somehow be unable to come back to SG-1? But, no, Janet said he should recover, so....
Janet bit her lip and Jack and Teal’C saw that her eyes were suddenly very moist. "Uh, I’m glad Sam’s not here right now....this is something Daniel probably would not want her to know...."
"WHAT!! What else is wrong with Daniel?" Jack said tersely, his eyes worriedly searching her face.
For the first time she actually met his gaze. "Jack, Daniel wasn’t just drugged and beaten and tortured....he was....umm....violated, too..."She saw the stunned looks come over the colonel’s and Teal’Cs faces as they processed what she meant.
O’Neill shook his head in disbelief and bit out, "Wait a second! Are you telling me that Daniel was...was..." He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she slowly nodded her head. She heard Teal’C make a sound from deep within his chest and she looked at him unhappily, then back at O’Neill.
The colonel’s expression was one of revulsion and fury. "Oh, shit, oh, Christ," he muttered, bringing a hand up to his eyes.
"Who did this... thing?" Teal’C demanded, his deep voice thrumming with outrage.
"When the beatings and druggings didn’t work, they took Daniel somewhere else. He told the doctors that there were three big men waiting for him when they got there. He was still half drugged and he kept losing consciousness after they’d beaten him and broken his arm and ribs so fortunately he doesn’t remember all of the assault, but it must have been bad," she replied, swiping at the tears that now glistened on her cheeks.
"That’s why his clothes looked like they did," O’Neill muttered to himself, remembering the soiled, torn state of Daniel’s clothing.
"If they could not make him tell them what they wanted to know, then they tried to break his spirit," Teal’C said. "Such tactics of humiliation are known to be employed by the Goa’uld," he added darkly. At Teal’Cs words both Janet and Jack had a flashback of Daniel’s unhappy encounter with Hathor, the ruthless and beautiful Goa’uld queen who’d forcibly made the young man her "chosen" consort so she could use his DNA to make other infant Goa’ulds. Although humiliation had not been Hathor’s intent, sexual conquest and possession were and she had forced Daniel to submit to her will and desires.
Janet shook the distasteful memories off and responded to Teal’Cs comment:
"Yes, Daniel said that afterwards, when they started interrogating him again, they taunted him with the assault."
That brought Jack’s thoughts back to the present situation as well. The awful image of Daniel lying so broken and battered on the cot in the gray cell rose unbidden. FUBAR, O’Neill remembered despairingly, realizing that Daniel had meant it literally.
"May we see Daniel Jackson?" Teal’C asked.
Janet looked at him sadly and nodded. "Of course. But as I said, he’s heavily sedated now, Teal’C. He likely won’t know you are there."
"But I will know I am there," the big Jaffa replied softly.
--------
Teal’C was the first to go in and see Daniel. He stood looking down at the slim form lying so still on the white hospital bed, lost amongst the monitors and IVs attached to his body. Daniel looked defenseless and very, very young. It grieved the Jaffa to the core of his being that he had not been able to somehow protect his young friend whom he took such care to watch over when they were on their missions.
Some of the swelling had gone down from Daniel’s face and eyes, although the tender flesh was still badly discolored. Most of what could be seen of his body was encased in casts or heavy linen wrappings. Doctors had found that besides broken ribs he had a punctured lung, and an oxygen mask was placed over his face to ease his breathing.
The young scholar’s hair, now clean of the blood, sweat, and dirt, gleamed in the soft lighting of the room, and Teal’C reached down and placed a large hand on top of Daniel’s fair head, as if blessing him."I am honored to be your friend, Daniel Jackson," he said to the younger man even though he knew Daniel was unaware he was there. His large thumb gently stroked the smooth forehead and his dark eyes glistened in the dim lighting of the room.
--------
Samantha was the next to see Daniel. She and General Hammond had returned with the coffee and found Janet talking to the colonel and Teal’C. She sensed something was wrong, but when she asked about it, Janet merely told her they had been discussing Daniel’s physical condition, which Sam assumed explained why the colonel and Teal’C seemed so upset. Janet told Sam that expectations for Daniel’s recovery were high, but he wasn’t entirely out of the woods yet and that he’d be monitored closely for the next few days.
Like Teal’C, Sam now stood looking sorrowfully down at the sleeping Daniel, heartsick at so much violence done to someone so kind and gentle. He’d been in some bad scrapes before, but she’d never seen him this hurt, this....fragile....and it tore at her soul. Like O’Neill and Teal’C, she felt protective of their youngest team mate and it anguished her that Fate seemed to deal Daniel such hard blows.
She picked up his limp left hand, softly kissed the back of it, then gently pressed it to her cheek.
"We miss you, Daniel," she murmured to his silent form. "We need you. Please come back to us."
--------
General Hammond had pulled up a chair and sat with bowed head by the side of the sedated youth. It grieved him that this fine young man had come to such tragedy. He cared deeply about all of the people under his command at SGC, but the young scholar held a special place in his affections, almost like a favored grandson. This was surprising considering how exasperated the general could get with Daniel sometimes when the young man would argue a point about the Stargate program or a mission with him, and even more so considering how he had felt about Jackson when they first met. The general had been thoroughly annoyed to discover Daniel was alive and secretly living on Abydos. And Hammond was not initially open to the idea of having a civilian as part of his military team. But Daniel Jackson had proven himself time and again to be a valuable member of SG-1 and to the Stargate project overall. In many ways, although Daniel did not know it, he was the cog around which everything else revolved.
Hammond sat up straighter and sighed heavily, then looked over at "his boy" as he had come to think of Daniel. The battered young face looked so touchingly vulnerable. Janet Frasier had taken the general aside when Sam was with Daniel and told him what she’d told Jack and Teal’C. Just as it had with them, it had sickened and enraged the general. He had thanked the doctor for telling him then had walked out of the waiting area to be alone to digest such devastating information. As a career military man he had seen some pretty awful things in his time, yet the idea of such savagery being done to a young man who himself had never harmed anyone was unimaginable. Yet, despite it all, Daniel had not broken, had not told his abductors anything they wanted to know.....and yet at what cost to himself? With another heavy sigh Hammond placed his hand on the young man’s slim shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You did a good job, son," he told him, his voice cracking. "You did yourself...you did all of us.... proud."
--------
By his choosing, Jack was the last to visit Daniel. He had needed time to compose himself before going in to see his friend and team mate. If Daniel should awaken, O’Neill did not want him to see how distressed he was over Janet’s recent disclosure.
He now sat by his young friend’s bedside, occupying the chair Hammond had used earlier. The colonel sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He’d been with Daniel for close to an hour now, just sitting there in silent vigil. Normally visitation in the ICU was limited to just a few minutes, but when Janet Frasier had stopped to look in on her patient and had seen Jack sitting so protectively by Daniel, she decided sometimes hospital rules were made to be broken given the people and the circumstances involved. She knew the colonel was eating his heart out over what had happened to Daniel. On top of that he’d come close to losing someone who’d become a surrogate brother, if not a surrogate son, to him. So she had left the room quietly, shutting the door behind her.
Jack yawned and stretched out his legs, accidentally kicking the bed stand. It made a sharp rattling noise and beside him the slim form stirred slightly. O’Neill sat up, looking intently at his young team mate. "Daniel?" he said in a hushed voice.
The frail form shifted again and Daniel’s left arm moved slightly. O’Neill stood up and leaned over him, peering down at the bruise-mottled face beneath the oxygen mask. He took Daniel’s good hand and squeezed it gently, conveying to the younger man he was not alone, just as he had done in the cell.
The colonel felt a faint, responding pressure and the thick curling lashes flickered open. Familiar blue eyes gazed up at him foggily, then cleared slightly as recognition came.
"Yeah, kid, it’s me, Jack," the older man assured him. ‘How ya feeling?"
Daniel’s eyes closed briefly again, then opened and Jack heard him mutter under the mask, "like shit."
"No surprise there. You look like it, too," the colonel quipped, and he was rewarded with a slight up curve of Daniel’s lips and a glimmer of amusement in the pain-darkened blue eyes.
"Sam, Teal’C, and the general have all been in to see you, and Doc Frasier say you’re gonna be fine," O’Neill told him, again squeezing his hand in reassurance. "In fact, everyone at SGC sends their best wishes and they’d all be up to see you if it were allowed. So when you come back they’ll likely throw you a big surprise party or something. Just pretend I didn’t tell you that and act, well, you know....surprised." He paused, searching for something else to say.
Daniel gazed at him from under half closed eyes and mumbled something.
"What?" O’Neill asked leaning closer. Daniel repeated it. "Hero? You better believe it, Danny...I think the President plans to pin a medal..." the colonel began, and Daniel shook his head, interrupting him.
"Nooo....you.....hero....to me......helped me..." he mumbled sleepily.
Caught off guard, O’Neill did not know what to say to that. How could he possibly be Daniel’s hero, and why would the young linguist say that to him now of all times and places.
"Aahhh, gee thanks, I think, Daniel, but I’m not sure I understand...."
The younger man’s eyes closed again and O’Neill could see he was making an effort to pull his thoughts and words together, fighting against the heavy sedation and load of antibiotics and other medications being pumped into his system.
The blue eyes opened and looked up into the worried face hovering over him. "Charlie....you....survived.....that," he paused, swallowing; "your strength....gave...me...strength....when they....hurt... me."
O’Neill blinked down at him, understanding now what Daniel was trying to convey to him. He looked away for a moment, his face clouding with remembered pain. "I, uh, almost didn’t make it through that time, Daniel, you know, and....," then realization dawned on the colonel and he looked back down at the young archaeologist, who was watching him. "But, then, the Stargate mission to Abydos came along...and you came along...." he smiled with remembrance. For a moment Jack recalled how close he had come to not making it through his young son’s tragic death, that he’d accepted what appeared at the beginning to be a suicide mission on Abydos, but that with Daniel’s help and presence he had managed to come back alive....and eventually, to even feel alive again.
"Ja’k?"
He looked back down at his young friend. "What, Danny?"
"Did the...doctors...tell....what else...they did...to me?" his muffled voice asked.
Jack’s expression grew grimmer and his gaze dropped from Daniel’s glazed blue one. All he could do was nod. The colonel felt the younger man squeeze his hand.
".You....survived...Charlie’s death......I......can...survive...this....," he murmured. Startled, Jack looked back down at him and he saw that Daniel’s eyes had closed again. The hand gripping his relaxed and O’Neill realized Daniel had drifted off.
Profoundly touched by what Daniel had said, he brought up a hand to swipe at his eyes, then reached out and gently smoothed Daniel’s tangled mane of soft tawny hair spread out on the pillow.....just as he had often done when Charlie was little.
PART EIGHT
Once it was determined that Daniel Jackson had not told his captors anything that could compromise the Stargate program, the President reinstated it. A thorough search of the terrorist’s facilities turned up the video tape that had lead to Daniel’s abduction. A disgruntled government employee, a lieutenant Ben Matthews in Records & Research at the Pentagon, was found to be the leak that had lead the terrorists to learn the little they knew of the Stargate program. A Swiss bank account in his name was found to contain some hefty deposits that Matthews could not account for satisfactorily. He was brought up on charges of high treason.
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Somewhere on the outskirts of Denver three men, all with lengthy criminal records, were found dead in an old warehouse. The cause of death was the result of strange massive burn wounds from a source or weapon of unknown
origin. The case would never be solved.
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In due time Daniel Jackson recovered from his injuries and never spoke of his ordeal again. But Jack O’Neill knew that his young friend had filed the terrible memories away in the deepest recesses of his being, where he kept the other dark moments of his life hidden away, just as Jack did. "That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger," O’Neill had once read. Perhaps it was so, he reflected as he joined his team at the foot of the Stargate ramp.
Familiar klaxxons sounded and chevrons locked into place as SG-1 stood ready to embark on another mission to a world beyond their own. Sam and Teal’C flanked Daniel, happy to have their fourth team member back. O’Neill glanced over at the young archaeologist with a feeling of fierce pride and joy and a sense that all was right with the world once more now that his team was complete again. This was Daniel’s first mission since he’d recovered from the kidnapping and although he still looked a little too thin and wan for the colonel’s taste, he was there, ready and eager to go forth into the Universal Unknown one more time.
Looking at the boyish face rapt with anticipation for what new archaeological
discoveries might await them, the wire rimmed glasses reflecting the shimmering
vortex of the gate, and the much-too-long shaggy hair all but obscuring the
bright blue eyes lit with expectation, the thought that came to O’Neill’s mind
was that heroes can come in many guises, including that of a somewhat geeky,
introverted, and gentle academic.
© March 17, 2000 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.