TITLE: Regression
AUTHOR: Sunrise
FEEDBACK: sunrize83@gmail.com
CATEGORY: Episode based, Drama/Angst, Friendship, H/C
PAIRING: None
RATING: PG-13
DATE: January 25, 2004
STATUS: Complete
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 7/ Evolution 1 & 2
ARCHIVE: Alphagate, Comfort Zone, Stargatefan, Gengate
SYNOPSIS: As Daniel struggles to cope with his ordeal, 
Jack and Janet begin to suspect something more might be 
troubling him.
NOTES: Thanks to Jo for her thorough and speedy beta--and 
for the Arabic. And, as always, a big thank you to babs, devra, 
DebA, and Majel for holding my hand through the process. You 
gals are the best!
WARNINGS:
A
R
N
I
N
G
S
P
A
C
E

Some mention of child abuse.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property 
of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko 
Productions. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. 
The story is for  entertainment purposes only. The original 
characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me 
first if you want to archive or link to this story.


Regression
By Sunrise


Jack heard the raised voices before he entered the infirmary. He 
paused just inside the doorway, listening to the argument that 
originated behind a drawn curtain.

"Daniel, we had a deal. You promised if I'd release you *just* long 
enough to welcome home Sam and Teal'c, you'd come straight 
back and get into bed."

"I want to renegotiate."

"You want to renege. You promised, Daniel."

"Because it was the only way you'd let me out of here! I'm fine, 
Janet. I made it to the 'gateroom and back with no problems, no ill 
effects. I don't need to stay here."

Fraiser's voice sharpened. "You've only been back forty-eight 
hours, Daniel. You were severely dehydrated. You have a bullet 
wound in your thigh, two cracked ribs, bruises, cuts, contusions. 
Your chest and back--" Her voice, which had grown progressively 
less steady, broke. She cleared her throat. "The burns were already 
showing signs of infection. Another twenty-four hours on oral 
antibiotics will ensure--"

"No."

It was that one little word that got Jack's feet moving. He 
recognized that tone, understood exactly what it signified. Quiet, 
unassuming--it might easily be underestimated, just like a certain 
archeologist he'd grown to know and love. Jack knew better. When 
Daniel was upset, frustrated, he ranted and paced and waved his 
arms. That low, nearly emotionless voice meant his friend had 
taken all he was going to take.

Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

"Howdy, folks. Everything okay in here?" He raised one eyebrow 
when his cheerful greeting was met with two hostile glares.

"Was there something you needed, Colonel?" Fraiser folded her 
arms, and for the first time he glimpsed weariness behind the anger 
in her eyes.

"Just stopped by to see if Daniel was up to joining me, Carter, 
Teal'c for some lunch." When she narrowed her eyes, he added, 
"It's the second most important meal of the day."

"Yes, I'd--"

"No, he's--"

Daniel and Fraiser stopped talking and resumed scowling.

"Yeah. See, that would be why I asked if everything was okay." 
Jack looked at his friend. "Daniel?"

Daniel turned away, his lips pressed tightly together.

Okay. No help there.

"Doc?"

"Dr. Jackson disagrees with my diagnosis of his injuries."

Daniel's head snapped back around. "I didn't say that."

"Really? Then the problem must be that you don't trust my 
judgement when it comes to treating those injuries."

"I didn't-- The *problem* is that I object to being held prisoner in 
the infirmary when I'm well enough to go home."

Interesting choice of words, Jack thought. He held up both hands, 
palms out. "Okay, okay. Everybody just calm down a minute. 
"You." He pointed at Fraiser. "How crucial is it that he stays here? 
I mean, sure, he looks like crap, but that's still a lot better than he 
looked two days ago."

"Gee, thanks, Jack."

Janet ignored Daniel's mutter. "Colonel, he sustained a gunshot 
wound and third degree burns under conditions ripe for infection. 
We just discontinued the I.V. antibiotics today and I'd really like to 
keep him under observation for another twenty-four hours to make 
sure the oral medications are doing their job."

"Which is completely--"

"Ah, ah!" Jack cut Daniel off with an upraised finger. "You." He 
pointed at his friend. "Why are you so dead set against doing what 
the doc says? I mean, it's just one more night, right?"

"Jack..." Daniel screwed up his face, frustration written in every 
line. "The shack we were held in had no bathroom facilities and 
roaches the size of tanks. The only food or water we saw for days 
was what disappeared down Raphael's throat. I've been kicked, 
punched, shot, and...and jump-started. I want to go home." He 
looked at Fraiser, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper. 
"Please, Janet. I just want to go home."

Fraiser melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. "I suppose it's not 
imperative you be on base, but I certainly wouldn't want you alone 
in case--"

Jack jumped in. "I hear a motion that Daniel be allowed to finish 
convalescing at home under my expert supervision. Will someone 
second it?"

"You? Expert?" Daniel snorted. "Seems to me that last time you 
were supposed to be expertly supervising my convalescence you--"

"Will someone second the motion?" Jack growled.

Daniel's sigh was martyred. "Fine. You can sleep on the couch."

"Seconded! All in favor signify by saying--"

"Shut up, Jack."

"Enough, Colonel."

"Not what I had in mind, but it'll do." Jack shoved his hands in his 
pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Truce successfully 
negotiated thanks to yours truly. My work here is done."

Fraiser pursed her lips and looked at Daniel. "You may come to 
regret this."

Daniel groaned. "I think I'm already there."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack eased the truck around a corner and accelerated smoothly, 
continuing another meandering circuit through quiet neighborhood 
streets. He darted a quick glance at his passenger. Daniel was still 
out, hands tucked under his arms and head tipped against the 
window. He'd dropped off five minutes from his house--hence the 
reason Jack had been driving aimlessly for the past twenty-five 
minutes. 

Rest, Fraiser had said with her patented no-nonsense glare. 
Something Daniel needed desperately but had been sorely lacking. 
The tremendous energy required to heal injuries like Daniel's came 
at significant expense to the body. Weakened by starvation and 
dehydration, Daniel was vulnerable to infection both from without 
and within. Eating and sleeping should be the only things on his 
friend's agenda for at least the next week.

Jack had tossed off a joke about unlimited beer, pizza, and the 
sports channel. Then Fraiser had taken him aside, ostensibly to 
give him Daniel's medications.

//Fraiser ushered him inside the drug supply room and shut the 
door. Any smart remark he might have made died when he saw the 
look on her face.

"Colonel, I wanted to speak with you in private."

Jack waved his hand around the tiny, windowless cubicle. "Well, 
this is private, all right. Do you mind telling me why we're doing 
this here and not your office?"

"Because I don't want Daniel joining us for this conversation."

"Okaaaay. And that would be...why?"

"I've observed some things that have me very worried about him."

"Well then, shouldn't he be the one standing here in the closet with 
you? Not that is isn't a nice closet, mind you, but I really--"

"Normally I would agree with you, Colonel. But Daniel and I share 
a history that might make him...resistant to my concerns."

"It's not like you to beat around the bush, Doc. Spit it out."

She folded her arms. "I'm worried about his mental status. I don't 
think he's coping with his ordeal nearly as well as he'd have us 
believe. I wanted you to know that I've made a formal 
recommendation for counseling. He won't be released for active 
duty until he meets both the physical *and* psychological 
requirements."

Oh for cryin'... "You're over-reacting, doc. You know better than 
anyone what those bastards did to him. Of course he's going to be a 
little jumpy for a while."

"Colonel, I have never forgiven myself for what happened four 
years ago. Do you honestly think I'd make such a recommendation 
if I wasn't absolutely certain it was necessary?"

The truth in her words took the wind out of his sails. "That bad, 
huh?"

"He flinches at the slightest sound, barely eats or sleeps, won't take 
his pain medication, is argumentative and uncooperative with my 
nurses...." Fraiser ticked off each item on her fingers.

"Whoa, slow down." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Let's say, 
just for the sake of argument, that Daniel's as screwed up--"

"Traumatized."

"--whatever, as you think he is. What do you expect me to do about 
it? He's a big boy, Doc. I can't make him eat or sleep any more 
than you can."

"Perhaps not. But you can get him to talk. In fact, you're probably 
the only one who can. And that's what he really needs, sir. Until he 
acknowledges how badly he's been hurt, he'll never be able to 
heal."

Jack groaned. "You know how lousy I am at the touchy-feely 
stuff."

Fraiser grabbed a bottle of pills and opened the door. "Too late to 
back out now, Colonel. You wanted him, you got him." //

A small sound from the passenger seat drew Jack's gaze. Daniel's 
slow, deep breathing had quickened, and sweat had broken out on 
his brow. Lines appeared around his eyes and mouth and his 
shoulders twitched spasmodically.

"Daniel?" Jack said the name quietly, hoping to wake his friend 
without startling him.

Daniel's respiration turned to short, sharp pants and he moaned--
the low, wounded cry of a child. Jack pulled to the curb and 
gripped his friend's shoulder.

"Daniel, wake up."

Daniel's whole body jerked and both arms flew up as if to ward off 
blows. He stared at Jack through wild, unseeing eyes.

"Take it easy; it's just me. You were dreaming." Jack deliberately 
left his hand in place, relieved when he saw comprehension seep 
into Daniel's gaze.

Flushing, Daniel rubbed a trembling hand over his face. "Sorry."

Jack sat back and watched his friend regain his composure. 
"Nothing to be sorry about. Looked like a doozy."

Daniel frowned. "Huh?"

"The nightmare. I've had enough of 'em myself to recognize a bad 
one when I see it."

Daniel's somewhat bewildered expression immediately 
transformed to a blank mask. He turned his head and looked out 
the window.

Jack pressed a little harder. "Want to talk about it?"

"Where are we? This isn't the way to my place."

So that's the way it was going to be. Change the subject and just 
ignore the elephant standing in the middle of the room.

"I took the scenic route."

Daniel looked at the dashboard clock and then Jack through 
narrowed eyes. "We left the mountain over an hour ago."

Jack put the car into gear and pulled into traffic. "Did we?"

"It only takes thirty minutes to drive to my house."

"I'll take your word for it. I've never timed it."

"Jack."

"Daniel?"

Jack had long ago learned the value of obtuseness. Faced with 
banging their heads against a brick wall or moving on, most people 
chose the latter. Of course, Daniel was hardly most people. He'd 
called Jack on his devious little technique the first time he'd tried 
it. Still, it was worth a shot.

Daniel glared at him for a long moment, then let out a long gust of 
air. "Forget it."

Damn, Fraiser was right. Daniel letting him off the hook that easily 
was as worrisome as the nightmare.

"You hungry? You must be. You missed out on lunch."

"I was *trying* to get some work done."

"Is that why Fraiser was chewing your ass when I walked in?"

Daniel made a rude sound and scrunched lower in his seat, arms 
folded. "She actually had an SF come to my office and escort me 
to the infirmary!"

"You don't mess with Dr. Dread, Daniel. You sure as hell should 
know that by now."

"Huh. I'm surprised she didn't have him use restraints. If I'm going 
to be treated like a prisoner, she might as well pull out all the 
stops."

There was that word again, Jack thought, watching surreptitiously 
as Daniel gritted his teeth and muttered something under his 
breath. We've got some serious control issues here. What exactly is 
going on inside that head of yours, Danny?

"Sooo, pizza? Chinese? Mexican? Name your take-out poison."

Daniel twitched his shoulders. "Suit yourself, Jack. I'm really not 
hungry."

"Fraiser said you--"

"The last time I checked, I was an adult male in his thirties. I'll 
decide when, what, and how much I eat. I don't need Fraiser, you, 
or anyone else telling me what to do."

"Fine." Jack pressed his lips together, stemming a tide of angry 
words. Frasier's half-smile and quirked eyebrow flashed before his 
eyes. //You wanted him; you got him.// Jack tightened his fingers 
on the steering wheel. If the past ten minutes were any indication, 
he was in for one helluva long night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack was watching him again, and doing a damn poor job of hiding 
it.

Daniel swished his chopsticks through rice and vegetables, 
spreading them across the plate to disguise how little he'd actually 
consumed. Not that he really expected Jack to fall for such a trick. 
For a moment he envisioned his friend in father mode, sternly 
insisting that Charlie stop playing with his food and start eating it. 
A pang of sorrow immediately followed, softening Daniel's 
irritation.

"I wouldn't quit my day job, if I were you."

"What?"

Jack gestured to Daniel's plate. "You're an archeologist, not an 
artist. And while perhaps impressionistic, that sure as hell ain't art."

"I told you I wasn't hungry."

"Yeah, I seem to recall hearing that somewhere."

Daniel shoved back his chair and stood, his anger ratcheting up a 
notch when despite his best efforts a hiss of pain slipped out. 
Snatching up his plate he hopped to the sink, flipped on the tap, 
and grabbed the dish detergent. He stared at the soapy water as it 
filled the sink, his thoughts a million miles away.

He hurt. Everywhere. Leg, abdomen, ribs, and every one of those 
damn burns on his chest and back. His gaze wandered to the little 
amber bottle sitting on the counter. Darvocet--Janet wouldn't take 
no for an answer when he'd tried leaving them behind. He licked 
his lips. Just one little capsule would make it all go away for a 
while...

//"You *will* tell me what I want to know." Trapped. Hot. Dark. 
"I'm going to skin you alive." Pain. Fear. "I told you what would 
happen if you ignored me." Struggling. Powerless. "Don't bother 
screaming; no one will hear you." Can't get out. Can't breathe. 
Alone. Oh, God. Someone. Anyone. Help?//

Hands on his arms. Big. Strong. Grabbing. Squeezing. No!

Daniel rammed both elbows backward, spun on his heel, and 
swung his fist with all his might. He connected with solid flesh, 
vaguely registering a breathless grunt before fiery agony blazed 
through his leg and it folded beneath him, tumbling him to the 
floor.

"Ah, God...! Damn it, Daniel, what in the hell do you think you're 
doing?"

Jack's voice, muffled and strained, filtered through Daniel's haze of 
pain. He pushed himself upright until he could lean back against 
the cabinet, clutching his thigh with both hands. Jack was similarly 
propped against a table leg, one hand cradling his face. Glaring at 
Daniel, he leaned over and spat blood onto the tile.

Daniel fought against a wave of nausea, his eyes skittering from 
the blood to the already purpling swelling along Jack's jawline. 
"Wh...what happened?"

"What happened? You decked me, that's what happened!"

"That's...that's crazy, Jack, I wouldn't..." Daniel trailed off, slowly 
lifting his right hand, gaping at the torn and swollen knuckles.

"You were saying?"

His whole body turned ice cold while his head felt as if it might 
float away. Warm fingers touched the back of his neck, guiding his 
head down between his knees.

"Relax, Daniel. Take deep breaths."

"S-sorry. I'm sorry, Jack." He could barely force the apology past 
chattering teeth.

"Just shut up and breathe." Harsh words spoken in the gentlest of 
tones. 

Daniel shut his eyes and went with it, too rattled to protest. After 
several minutes the shivering diminished to occasional tremors and 
he cautiously lifted his head. 

Jack peered into his eyes, brow furrowed. "You okay?"

Daniel nodded, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "You?"

"Hey, I'm a big, tough, Special Ops colonel and you're just a geeky 
archeologist. What do you think?"

"Hurts, huh?"

"Like a sonuvabitch."

He smiled but it slid quickly off his face. "I really am sorry, Jack. I 
don't know--"

"I do. You had a flashback, Daniel."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No, I... No." Daniel shook his head. "You're wrong, Jack. It 
was...I just got confused for a minute, that's all."

Jack snorted. "Daniel, I've known you, what, eight years now? I've 
seen you confused and--correct me if I'm wrong--you don't 
normally come out swinging."

Daniel opened his mouth for an argument but snapped it shut when 
he couldn't think of one. He tried to stand up, biting back a moan 
when his leg burst into flames. Well, that's how it felt, anyway.

The pain must have shown on his face. Jack stabbed a finger at his 
chest, growled "Stay put," and disappeared. Daniel heard a 
cupboard open and shut, water run, and then the soft click of pills 
shaken from their bottle. A hand appeared under his chin.

Daniel looked at the little pink capsule and curled his lip. "Jack, I 
don't want--"

"Don't give me that shit, Daniel. You turned white as a sheet just 
now. I'm not having you pass out on me when I haul you off the 
floor."

Some of his previous irritation tried to surface, but after a look at 
Jack's bruised jaw, Daniel swallowed the pill. Jack disposed of the 
glass and joined him back on the floor, this time sitting beside him. 
They were silent for a time--long enough for the drug to blunt the 
needle-sharp teeth gnawing at Daniel's leg. When Jack finally 
spoke, his voice was soft.

"You can talk to me about this, Daniel. It's not like I won't get it."

Daniel's mouth went dry. "Iraq?"

"Sara never knew from one minute to the next what might set me 
off. Flashbacks during the day, nightmares all night. She finally 
took Charlie and went to stay with her dad. It knocked some sense 
into me. Made me realize losing them was way scarier than dealing 
with what happened."

The pain had faded to a low hum and all his limbs felt pleasantly 
loose and heavy. Daniel tipped his head back and closed his eyes. 
"I just want to forget. Is that too much to ask?"

"Hell no. As far as I'm concerned you can bury it, lock it up and 
throw away the key. But I'll tell you a secret, Daniel, and it's the 
damnedest thing. You've got to take it out and look at it first. 
Otherwise there won't be a hole deep enough or a box strong 
enough to keep it from creeping back. And you'll never be rid of it, 
kiddo. Voice of experience here."

"You can hear your own ribs break--didya know that, Jack?"

Silence, and then Jack's tight voice. "Yeah. Actually, I did."

Daniel could feel Jack looking at him but his eyes decided they 
preferred to remain closed. "I couldn't decide what was worse--
having 'em beat the hell out of you or waiting for your turn to have 
them beat the hell out of you. Tied up in that cramped, filthy little 
shack, so hot, no air, you could barely breathe, and dark, so dark at 
night...." He shivered, indescribably comforted when Jack shifted 
closer so their shoulders touched.

"Then they brought out the jumper cables and suddenly having 
them beat the hell out of you didn't seem so bad. I was so scared, 
Jack." Daniel pried open his eyes and squinted at Jack's still, white-
lipped face. "Guess it was a good thing they wouldn't give us any 
water. Probably would've pissed myself. Some soldier."

Jack's fingers clamped onto his chin, startling him. "You are a 
damn fine soldier, Daniel. I'm proud to have you on my team, 
watching my six. Never believe otherwise." He released his grip 
and a little of the fierceness left his tone. "I've seen career military 
break under that kind of interrogation. You did good."

Daniel's sigh turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. In the back of his 
mind a little voice was telling him he should feel mortified for 
using Jack's shoulder as a pillow, but he was just too tired to listen. 
"Thought I'd forgotten...the hurt...the helplessness. Was so long 
ago." Forming words was getting harder. "Guess you were right, 
Jack. Came creeping back."

He heard Jack's voice from a great distance, but the words made no 
sense. Yadda, he thought, lips curving, and sank into sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack shut the bedroom door and, after a moment's hesitation, 
headed into the living room. He collected the cordless phone and 
sank into the couch cushions, grunting when his overtaxed muscles 
twanged a painful protest. Hauling a drugged archeologist to his 
bedroom and pouring him into bed was definitely a job for a 
younger man. With better knees.

Exhaustion, an empty stomach, and Doc Fraiser's magic pill had 
turned Daniel into a boneless, incoherent lump who'd appeared 
perfectly willing to spend the night on his kitchen floor. Now that 
he was safely tucked away in his bedroom, dead to the world, Jack 
could make his phone call without fear of being overheard.

He paused, thumb poised over the keypad. He was about to 
commit a clear violation of Daniel's privacy. An act that his friend 
was unlikely to thank him for. One that could conceivably drive a 
wedge between the two of them, just when they were getting this 
friendship thing back on track. Jack sighed.

He had no choice.

It took several minutes for his call to ricochet down to the correct 
lab. The phone rang five times, and he was ready to hang up when 
a breathless voice answered.

"Major Carter--this better be damn important."

Jack's eyebrows soared. "As a matter fact, it is."

"Colonel?" Embarrassment colored her tone and he could just 
imagine her cheeks turning pink.

"Got it in one."

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just that I'm in the middle of some further testing 
on the armor from the supersoldier we captured. It's really quite 
fascinating, I discovered--"

"TMI, Carter, TMI."

"Sir?"

"Too much information. Sorry to interrupt your fun, but I need a 
favor."

"Of course, Colonel. What is it?"

"Hold on a minute. Before you say yes there are a few things you 
should know."

"Okay." He heard puzzlement in her tone, but she waited for him 
to continue.

"First, this is strictly unofficial. I'm not asking this as Colonel 
O'Neill. I'm asking as Jack."

A long silence. "All right...Jack."

He cleared his throat. "Okay. So the other thing is that what I'm 
asking isn't exactly...uh...legal."

"Sir?"

"I need you to dig up Daniel's records from the time he was 
fostered."

Another, longer silence. "I'd need to know why."

He'd expected this, but he still fumbled for the right words. "I need 
to know if there were any...incidents with any of his foster 
parents."

"You're losing me, sir. Incidents?"

Jack closed his eyes and hung onto his temper. Blurting "I need to 
know if anyone beat the shit out of him" would not be a good 
choice. "I'm trying to find out if he was ever mistreated, Major."

"Child abuse?" She sounded stunned.

"Yes."

"Why--?"

"I can't answer that, Carter. You're gonna have to trust me when I 
say that I wouldn't pry into Daniel's past if I didn't think it was 
absolutely necessary."

Jack waited. As much as he needed Carter's help, he recognized the 
enormity of what he was asking. He wouldn't push her on this one.

"I had dinner with Janet tonight."

What in the hell did that have to do with the price of tea in China? 
"That's...nice."

"She's worried about Daniel. She thinks something's bothering 
him, something more complicated than just aftershocks from the 
kidnapping."

Sometimes it was hell having a 2IC too smart for her own good. Or 
his. Jack remained pointedly silent.

Carter sighed. "I'll poke around, see what I can find out."

Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders. "Thanks, Carter. I 
owe you."

"I'm not promising anything, sir. Those are confidential records 
and they may have security too tight for my...capabilities."

"Understood. You can reach me at Daniel's. Just...don't tell him 
why you're calling."

"I'll let you know as soon as I find anything." Her voice softened. 
"Is he okay?"

Jack's eyes automatically drifted to the bedroom. His answer 
sounded more like a vow. "He will be."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You can take the colonel out of Special Ops, but you can't take the 
Special Ops out of the colonel. Jack came fully awake with all 
senses on alert. He took inventory, searching for the source of 
whatever had disturbed his slumber. The catlike pad of bare feet 
followed by a creaky floorboard gave him his answer. Throwing 
off the blanket, he stood and navigated his way to Daniel's 
bedroom without turning on a light.

The house was still, but Daniel's door stood ajar. Jack stuck his 
head inside, noting the crutches lying at the foot of the empty bed. 
"Daniel?"

A soft thud drew him back into the living room. Moonlight spilled 
through the windows, illuminating several books, once piled on an 
end table but now scattered on the floor. Jack bent over to pick 
them up, when he heard the front door rattle and then a soft, 
frustrated sob.

"Daniel?"

He squinted at the shadowy figure standing in the foyer. Daniel 
had wrapped both hands around the knob and was frantically 
twisting and pulling. As Jack moved closer, he heard a continuous 
string of incoherent whispers and sobs.

"...kharagny men hena, ana sowfa akoun kewayes, I'll be good, I 
promise, men fadlak, too hot, can't breathe, kharagny men hena, I'll 
be good, men fadlak ..."

"Daniel?"

Daniel didn't react to Jack's soft call, just went on twisting and 
pulling, muttering and sobbing. Jack felt a quiver of unease. 
Daniel's eyes were wide open, tears trickling down his cheeks, yet 
they weren't *seeing*. He tugged and jiggled the brass knob but 
completely ignored the dead bolt that held the door firmly shut. As 
Jack watched, Daniel brought both fists up and pounded on the 
door. Pressing his forehead to the smooth wood, he uttered a low, 
broken wail that raised gooseflesh on Jack's arms.

"Damn it, Daniel! Wake up!" Jack seized his friend by the 
shoulders and spun him around.

Daniel stiffened, then blinked. "Jack?" He looked around, his 
fingers clutching Jack's tee shirt. "Where.... H...how did I...?"

"Come here." Jack helped an alarmingly passive Daniel limp over 
to the couch. 

Though the house was cool, Daniel's face was flushed, his tee shirt 
damp with sweat. Jack settled him on the cushions, then darted into 
the kitchen for a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he pressed it 
into Daniel's limp hand. The water sloshed wildly when Daniel 
raised it to his lips but he drank greedily.

Jack paced back and forth for a moment, then shoved aside several 
artifacts and sat on the coffee table, his folded hands dangling 
between his knees. "You mind telling me what the hell that was 
about?"

Daniel looked at him with shadowed eyes. "I would if I could, 
Jack."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reaching for patience. 
He was lousy in these situations, and he knew it. Somehow his fear 
inevitably twisted into irritation. The bewilderment in Daniel's face 
warned him to tread lightly.

"Okay, let's try this. What's your last clear memory?"

Daniel frowned, deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth. 
"Well, I ...sitting on the kitchen floor." His gaze dropped to Jack's 
jaw and then slid away. "Guess I fell asleep. Sorry."

"You can make it up to my knees later. What else?"

"Nothing."

"*Nothing*?"

Daniel picked at the water bottle's label. "You wanted clear 
memories. Nothing else is clear."

Jack huffed. "For cryin' out loud, Daniel. Then tell me what you 
remember that's *not* clear."

Daniel chewed on his lip, long fingers peeling off bits of paper 
label that drifted to the floor. "Just sensations, really. Heat. 
Darkness. Like I was...I don't know...trapped." He finally looked 
up at Jack. "Obviously a nightmare. I'm not the best sleeper, Jack. 
Sometimes I have bad dreams--you should know that by now."

"Yeah, but you took this one on the road. You were sleepwalking, 
Daniel. You'd made it all the way to the front door."

Daniel wrinkled his nose. "That's funny. I had a problem with 
sleepwalking for a while, but that was years ago. I was just a little 
kid." His voice trailed off and his eyes lost focus, as if he were 
looking inward.

"How little?" Jack pitched his voice low and unobtrusive.

"Nine or ten, I think. It was after my parents died. 
What...um...what was I doing?"

Jack rescued the partially filled water bottle when it threatened to 
slip, unnoticed from Daniel's fingers. His friend immediately 
curled his arms around his middle.

"You were trying to open the door, but you didn't release the 
deadbolt. You just kept rattling the knob and...uh...crying."

"Crying?" Daniel touched his cheek where Jack could still see faint 
tear tracks.

"Yeah. In English and in Arabic. You kept asking to be let out, 
promising you'd be good."

All the color drained from Daniel's face.

"Daniel?"

Daniel didn't respond, just stared through him. Jack could see the 
quick rise and fall of his chest. He reached a steadying hand 
toward Daniel's knee.

"Daniel, what's wrong?"

Daniel surprised him by first flinching and then knocking aside his 
hand. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet. "Nothing. I...I'm really 
tired, Jack. I think I'll try to get some more sleep."

Jack stood, blocking his way to the bedroom. "Tired? Is that why 
you look like you just saw a ghost?" He leaned in closer. "That's 
pretty close to the mark, isn't it? You did see a ghost."

In the blink of an eye, Daniel went from shell-shocked to furious. 
"This conversation is over, Jack. Now are you going to let me go 
around you, or do I have to go through you?"

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. In Daniel's current 
condition Bill Lee could've knocked him on his ass. One look at 
his friend's outthrust lip and rigid posture, however, convinced 
Jack that resistance was futile. Holding up both hands, he stepped 
aside.

"This conversation may be over, Daniel, but the subject's far from 
closed. We *will* talk again."

Jack was pretty sure he heard a muttered "when hell freezes over" 
before Daniel shut the bedroom door. The click of the lock 
engaging echoed loudly in the abrupt silence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The 'gate alarm. Unscheduled off-world activation!

Jack bolted upright. His feet tangled in the blanket and he took a 
nosedive toward the coffee table. Somehow he managed a mid-air 
twist that landed him back on the couch, but he smacked his 
already bruised jaw on the armrest and wrenched his right knee.

"Shit!"

He snatched the phone from the floor. "O'Neill. And it better be 
damn near life threatening."

"Very funny, Colonel. What if it hadn't been me?"

"Caller ID, Major. It's a beautiful thing." 

 "Yes, sir. How's Daniel?"

"Oh, he's--" Jack caught himself before he could utter a flip reply. 
"He's been better, Carter." 

She took a deep breath. "I have some information for you. It's...not 
going to be easy to hear."

Jack's stomach did a slow roll. "Hang on a minute." He set the 
phone on the coffee table and walked quietly to the closed 
bedroom door. All was still, not even the rustle of bedclothes broke 
the silence within. Reassured, he returned to the couch. "Let's hear 
it."

"Daniel remained in the custody of Social Services for the first 
four months after his parents died. It took them that long to track 
down his grandfather. When Nick refused to accept responsibility 
for Daniel, he officially became a ward of the state and entered the 
foster care system."

Jack gritted his teeth. That Daniel's grandfather could simply turn 
his back on the little boy both amazed and infuriated him. "Go on."

"From what I can tell, Daniel's first foster placement went well--at 
least, there were no problems listed in the file. Unfortunately, after 
only six months the husband was promoted to a position that 
required they spend the next three years in Japan. And Daniel went 
back to the group home."

"Kid couldn't catch a break. First his parents, then Nick, then his 
foster parents." Jack rubbed at the headache that was building 
between his eyes. "But I'm guessing this isn't what you called to 
tell me, is it, Carter?"

"No, sir. I think you need to hear about Daniel's second foster 
experience. The one that nearly killed him."

Jack closed his eyes. "What happened?"

"The records are sketchy. My guess is that someone in Social 
Services tried to exercise a little damage control. There are quite a 
few holes." Carter's voice sounded thick. "But I was able to piece 
together enough."

"Such as?"

"Several instances when Daniel was picked up as a runaway. 
Neighbors' assertions that the husband was often drunk and 
abusive. A teacher's concern over Daniel's too frequent bumps and 
bruises. The only thing I can't figure out is why Daniel had to 
almost die before anyone acted."

"Son of a bitch."

"My thoughts exactly, sir."

"Carter--" Jack broke off, listening. Had he heard a sound from the 
bedroom? All that greeted him was silence.

"Sir?"

"Sorry, Carter. You said Daniel nearly died. What happened?"

"His foster mother brought him to the hospital emergency room. 
Daniel was suffering from an extreme case of heat stroke. She 
refused to explain how a nine-year-old boy wound up in such a 
condition. So did Daniel."

"Heat stroke?" He could almost hear the pieces click neatly into 
place. "Carter, I--"

The bedroom door banged open and Daniel stood clutching the 
jamb. Two bright spots of color burned in his pale cheeks and his 
eyes were dark with accusation. "You bastard! How *dare* you?"

Jack winced at the icy tone but spoke calmly into the phone. "Gotta 
go, Carter. I'll catch up with you later." He disconnected and 
gestured to the phone in Daniel's hand. "Thought I turned that one 
off."

"I turned it back on." Daniel tossed the phone onto the coffee table 
and hobbled into the kitchen. "Get out, Jack. I don't need your kind 
of help. I don't need *you*."

Well, shit.

Jack scrubbed his hands through his hair. A part of him wanted 
nothing more than to take Daniel at his word, pack up, and get out. 
He'd gone fishing and landed a whale; now he had no idea what to 
do with it. He was no shrink--his only qualification for helping 
Daniel was that he'd once been just as screwed up. Worse.

He was tired. Bone weary from too many sleepless nights, the 
nerve-wracking trek through the jungle, jet lag.…

And he was wasting time arguing with himself. He knew what he 
had to do.

Daniel was trying to make coffee. Trying, and not really 
succeeding since it was nearly impossible to hop on one leg while 
carrying a carafe full of water and a bag of gourmet beans. Jack 
caught the bag just as it slipped from its precarious position tucked 
under Daniel's arm.

"Fraiser said no caffeine."

"Fraiser's not here." Daniel snatched back the bag. "Why are you? 
What part of 'get out' didn't you understand, Jack?"

"I'm here because I'm your friend."

"Friends watch your back. They don't go behind it."

Ouch. Even though he'd expected Daniel's anger, Jack was 
surprised by how much it stung. Their friendship had always 
pushed at boundaries, demanded an honesty and openness he'd 
given to very few people in his life. Yet Daniel evidently didn't 
feel he could trust Jack with this.

"They don't turn their backs, either." Jack stepped in closer. He 
could see fine tremors running through Daniel, as if he might fly 
apart at any moment. "Daniel, you've always made me face the 
truth about myself. Even when it hurt like hell. Do you really 
expect me to walk away?"

"If I said yes, would you?"

"Ah, let me think a minute--*No*."

"God! I should have stayed in the infirmary. At least I was left in 
relative peace--when the nurses weren't poking and prodding me."

"Fraiser's just as worried about you as I am, Daniel. You might as 
well drop the act. Believe me, you're not going to be able to handle 
this one alone."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do! I'm a grown man, not a little 
kid, Jack. I didn't ask for your help."

"You didn't need to. I'm your friend."

Daniel's shoulders slumped. "I can't do this."

"You have to." Jack took the carafe and coffee from Daniel's 
unresisting fingers. "Go sit down before you fall down. I'll make 
the coffee."

"You make it too strong."

"Daniel."

"Sitting down now." He reached for a kitchen chair.

"Ah, ah! Living room, where you can elevate that leg."

Muttering under his breath, Daniel hobbled to the living room. 
Jack measured coffee and prayed for inspiration.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Daniel accepted the coffee mug and took a swallow, nearly 
spluttering with surprise. His eyebrows rose. "Ah...Jack? Janet also 
said no alcohol."

"Yeah? Well as you so succinctly pointed out, Janet is not here."

Oookay. Daniel buried his nose in his mug and tried to ignore 
Jack's piercing stare. Warmth from the liberal lacing of brandy 
spread its tendrils through him, steadying his jangling nerves.

"Do you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Daniel."

Daniel surrendered. He was too damn tired to fight Jack's 
inexorable prodding. "I didn't. I had no memories of those months; 
it was as if they'd never existed." He looked up at Jack, unable to 
mask his own bewilderment. "How could I have forgotten 
something so terrible?"

Jack held his own mug without drinking. "You know the answer to 
that. Sometimes forgetting is the only way you can cope. You were 
just a scared little kid, Daniel."

"I hated the way he made me feel. So trapped. Helpless." Daniel 
took another sip of coffee to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. "He 
got off on that."

"He drank?"

Daniel snorted. "Oh yeah. He was a mean drunk. And I seemed to 
provide the perfect...outlet for his anger."

"He hit you?" Jack's voice was dangerously soft.

"He'd never graduated high school and had little use for education. 
He couldn't understand why I'd rather read than play baseball--or 
whatever other manly pursuits he valued. The fact that I'd get lost 
in a book and not hear him calling made him crazy. Literally, if 
he'd had one too many." Daniel gulped down more coffee, 
deliberately not looking at Jack.

"And where exactly was his wife in all this?"

The memory was crystal clear--a petite, fair-haired woman with a 
warm smile and tragic green eyes. "She was good to me. They 
couldn't have kids of their own, and she really wanted a child. We 
used to play board games together, bake cookies--things I'd never 
done, even with my own parents. I could have loved her, I think..." 
He shook his head. "She was terrified of him. The one time she 
tried intervening, he beat the hell out of her and then punished me 
anyway."

Jack leaned forward and his voice gentled. "Is that why you 
wouldn't talk to anyone about what he'd done to you?"

Daniel set down his mug and tucked his hands into his armpits to 
hide their trembling. "She begged me not to. And I...I was scared 
of him. He liked describing what he'd do to me if I ever told." 
Goosebumps broke out on his arms and he shivered. "His favorite 
threat was that he'd skin me alive."

Jack sucked in a sharp breath. "God, Daniel. No wonder--"

"Yeah." He laughed, but it sounded too high and ragged. "Talk 
about a blast from the past."

Jack abruptly stood and disappeared into the kitchen. When he 
returned he was carrying a whiskey bottle and a tumbler. He placed 
the glass into Daniel's hand, poured two fingers, and sat down 
beside him.

"Drink it."

Daniel swirled the amber liquid. "I'm all right, Jack, I don't need--"

Jack blocked his arm as he tried to set down the glass. "Daniel, you 
look like shit. And we're not done yet."

"I've already told you most--"

"All of it, Danny. Or it's gonna come creeping back to bite you in 
the ass. You want to break the bastard's power over you? Tell me 
what happened that last time."

He stared into Jack's eyes for a long moment, drawing strength. 
One gift his friendship with Jack had given him was security. Jack 
made him feel safe--whether by watching his six while on a 
dangerous mission, or by being there when he needed someone to 
lean on. This friendship was the most stable, long-lasting 
relationship he'd experienced in his ever-turbulent life. 

He could do this.

Daniel tossed back the whiskey, gasping a little as it burned the 
back of his throat. He took a deep breath.

"It was summer. August, maybe--I'm not sure. It was hot--one of 
those days when the air feels too heavy to move in and out of your 
lungs. I don't know what I did wrong. I never did. After a while I 
stopped trying to figure it out.

"What I do remember is that I'd had enough. Something in me just 
snapped, and when he swung at me, I caught hold of his wrist and 
dodged the blow. The look on his face.... I thought he really was 
going to grab one of the kitchen knives and make good on all those 
threats. 

"I tried to run, but he just scooped me up, kicking and screaming. 
He started spouting nonsense--or at least I thought so at the time. 
Stuff about Vietnam and POWs and teaching me a lesson I 
wouldn't forget. 

"They lived in an older home with a full attic above the second 
floor. You got to it by going up some wooden steps in the back of 
their bedroom closet. He carried me up and dumped me on the 
floor like...like a sack of garbage. He said I could scream all I liked 
but no one would hear. My foster mother had gone shopping for 
the afternoon and wouldn't be back until dinnertime. He unscrewed 
the only light bulb and stuck it in his pocket. And then the son of a 
bitch locked the door and left."

Daniel ran a hand down his sweaty face and around to massage the 
back of his neck. "It was like a sauna up there. The air was hot and 
dry, and so musty I wanted to gag. There were no windows, so it 
was pitch black--I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face."

"I tried to stay calm and rational. I'd never been a kid who was 
afraid of the dark. Hell, my parents had taken me into tombs with 
them from the time I was a baby; I didn't spook easily. But this was 
different. I was trapped; there was no way out but that one door, 
and it was solid oak. I've never been so hot and thirsty in my life--
even on Abydos. It felt as if the heat was sucking the life out of 
me--and I guess it was. I lost it and started pounding on the door, 
screaming and crying for him to let me out. Promising...promising 
I'd be good."

A warm hand rested on his shoulder and Daniel realized he was 
moving, rocking back and forth. The hand left his shoulder to 
steady the jittering tumbler. A little more whiskey was poured and 
he swallowed it, without hesitation this time.

"Your foster mother found you?"

"Eventually. I was pretty far gone by that point, only semi-
conscious and laying in my own vomit. I'm not sure how she got 
me to the hospital--he never let her drive the car. I remember her 
holding me, rocking me. Telling me she was sorry."

"Not sorry enough to tell the authorities what happened." Jack 
practically growled the words. When Daniel stole a look at his 
friend's face, it wore an expression usually reserved for politicians 
and Goa'ulds.

"She was terrified, Jack. So was I." He bit his lip. "After the 
hospital, I never saw her again. I always wondered what happened 
to her. If she went back to him. If he hurt her. Maybe she didn't do 
as much for me as she should have, but in the end she risked 
everything to save me."

"You never talked about this? To anyone?" In a heartbeat Jack's 
tone warmed thirty degrees.

"I told you, Jack. I didn't even remember it." An overwhelming 
sense of relief spread through him, as if an old and painful wound 
finally had been treated. Not healed--yet. But stitched and 
bandaged. Daniel settled more deeply into the cushions and let his 
head drop onto the back of the couch. "I guess I just stuffed those 
memories down deep where they couldn't bother me anymore."

"Until now."

"Yeah. I started having some strange dreams-- hallucinations, 
whatever--while we were locked up in that shack. But when 
Raphael came after me with the knife...something inside me just 
snapped and I was that scared little kid again. It all came back." He 
looked at Jack, managing a weak smile. "For a moment when I saw 
you...I didn't know where I was. *When* I was."

Jack's lips curved. "Guess that explains your reaction."

Daniel raised an eyebrow.

"You asked me what I was doing there," Jack explained. He shook 
his head, his lips curved in a rueful smile. "I wondered where the 
hell else you thought I'd be. After all, you know the drill by now."

"No one gets left behind." Daniel blinked, a comfortable lethargy 
washing away the last of the shakes.

"You bet your ass." Jack's finger prodded his chest. "Don't forget 
this, Daniel. When I burst into that clearing, you weren't lying 
there passively, waiting to be filleted. That rock might not have 
been much of a match for a knife, but you were damn well going to 
go down fighting."

"Not a victim?"

"Hell, no."

Suddenly he felt as if he could sleep for a week, and without the 
aid of Janet's pills. Daniel closed his eyes. "Wish I'd had you back 
then, Jack." He snickered. "The bastard wouldn't have known what 
hit him."

The tumbler was pried gently from his fingers, his glasses 
removed, and then a drift of soft warmth covered him from chest to 
toes. "Sweet dreams, Danny."

Perhaps now they could be. But if not, Jack was here. Secure in 
that knowledge, Daniel let himself go.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"All right, SG-1. You have a go." Hammond stood and smiled at 
Daniel. "It's good to have you back, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel dipped his head. "Thank you, sir."

Out in the hallway, Sam linked her arm with his. "We missed you, 
Daniel. 'Gating's just not the same without you." She cast a 
mischievous look over her shoulder. "I think the Colonel's tired of 
terrorizing your replacements."

Teal'c inclined his head. "Indeed."

"Now wait just a cotton pickin' minute. It's not my fault they 
needed constant supervision."

"Jack, do you have any idea how many of my staff refuse to work 
with you? I've spent the last two weeks soothing ruffled feathers." 
Daniel shook his head. "These are all competent individuals, 
experts in their fields. There shouldn't be a problem--"

"I believe the problem lies in the simple fact that they are not you, 
Daniel Jackson. Is that not so, O'Neill?"

Jack made a face. "Hey, I'm just as glad as the rest of you that 
Daniel's back. That doesn't mean we have to get all mushy, does it? 
Now how about lunch in the commissary? I'm treating."

"It is my understanding that the food in the commissary is served 
without charge to all military personnel, O'Neill. Am I in error?"

Sam chuffed. "Let's go, Teal'c."

"You kids go ahead. Daniel and I will be along in a minute."

Daniel watched them go. "Jack?"

"Come to my office for a minute, Daniel. I've got something to 
show you."

Daniel followed, puzzled by the subtle tension in Jack's brisk 
stride. When they reached his office he motioned for Daniel to take 
a seat and shut the door.

"Jack? Is something wrong?"

Jack leaned against the front of his desk, arms braced at his sides. 
"Why would you ask that?"

Daniel shrugged. "You just seem...I don't know...worried about 
something."

"Me? Mister Happy-Go-Lucky? Worried?"

"The white knuckles are a dead giveaway."

Jack rubbed the back of his head. "I've done something, Daniel. 
And I guess I'm hoping you'll want to thank me, not deck me."

Unease crept up Daniel's spine. "What have you done?"

After a moment's hesitation, Jack reached into his pocket and 
pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to Daniel. "I found her."

"You found... Oh!" Daniel stared at the scrap, his heart pounding.

"Lisa McKenzie. Divorced from Kurt Butler in 1978." Daniel 
involuntarily flinched at the sound of the name, but if Jack saw it, 
he didn't react. "Married to Brian McKenzie for the past twenty 
years. Two children--a daughter, Caroline, and a son, David." 
Jack's smile was grim. "Guess it was the bastard's fault they 
couldn't have kids."

Daniel tore his eyes from the paper to search Jack's face. 
"She's...she's okay? She's happy?"

"Yeah. I think she is. I spoke to her on the phone. She wanted to 
hear all about you. Said she'd never stopped thinking of you, 
Danny. Praying you were all right."

Tears blurred Daniel's vision and he quickly ducked his head. "I 
was sure she would have forgotten me."

"Apparently not." Jack tapped the piece of paper. "Her phone 
number is there, as well as her address. She'd love to hear from 
you. But she'll understand if you'd rather not."

Daniel swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "Thank you, 
Jack."

"Really?" Jack's voice sounded weak with relief. "I wasn't sure."

Daniel swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "Really."

"Sweet." Jack sobered. "You gonna call her?"

"Maybe." Daniel smiled and stood up. "Maybe not. But you know 
what? Whether I do or don't will be *my* choice, Jack. No one 
else's."

Jack caught him by the scruff of the neck and squeezed. "Damn 
straight." He cocked a thumb at the door. "Now, how about 
choosing some lunch?"

Daniel slipped the paper into his pocket. "Sounds like a plan."