Where there's life, there's hope

by Wil1969

Missing scenes from Continuum. What happened to Daniel after the loss of his leg? I wanted to know, so I wrote this fic about it.

Where There's Life, There's Hope
By Wilma.

"Ooh, shit."

Daniel knew no one could hear the exclamation, and it was lost in the freezing
arctic wind anyway. He couldn't see much through the densely falling snow, but
focused on the point where Sam and Mitchell had disappeared into the blizzard.

He knew he'd been in big trouble the minute his left leg hit the water in the
sinking ship. It was extremely disconcerting that he couldn't feel anything in
that leg at all. This was so bad, but focusing on the injury to that leg somehow
kept him sane.

He was going to die here, he knew it. Again. But this time he was all alone. No
SG1 nearby to comfort him, to help him through it. No Oma with her platitudes to
help him ascend.

Telling Sam and Mitchell to leave was probably the only chance they all had to
set things right, fix whatever happened back there with Ba'al. God, he so didn't
want to die like this.

Daniel felt his body was getting numb all over now. Trying to move his arms up
and down didn't help any longer. He'd read the mission report where Jack and Sam
had been stuck in that ice cave in Antarctica. The body would pull the mind with
it into deep sleep, one that you didn't wake up from. And it didn't even hurt.
much.

The blizzard seemed to get worse, but he couldn't find the strength to move.
What good would it do anyway? No chance to find his own ice cave, to find
shelter from this terrible weather with a leg that he didn't feel. Yeah, he was
so screwed.

Feeling groggy, his mind drifted away to Jack. Their friendship. Their nights
together at Jack's place drinking beer, eating pizza and watching what Jack
liked on television. Hockey. Jack's face when he fell to the floor after Ba'al
had stabbed him with the Goa'uld removal device. Sam falling on her knees next
to him, and Mitchell grabbing Daniel's arm and yanking him away from Jack's body
before he ever got a chance to say goodbye.

Jack's brown eyes, always so lively and full of warmth, would never shine again
if they could not undo all of this. If they failed, all would be lost forever.
Oh yeah, no pressure or anything. It made him feel totally hopeless at the
moment. It was up to Sam and Mitchell to set things straight, and he knew it.

A loud crack made Daniel look up and blink, trying to peer through the snow
behind him. Was he starting to hallucinate or was that a shadow moving up out of
the water not far from the place where the ship had been? It looked like a
submarine, but he wasn't sure. This had to be a dream. The cold playing tricks
with his mind. He tried to lift his body up a bit, but there was no way he would
be able to stand, let alone run.

Holding his breath, which wasn't hard in the bitter cold, he could see more,
small shadows moving around on the ice now. It seemed like they came his way.
Before he could think of calling out to the shadows, a flashlight fell on his
face, practically blinding him.

"Ah." The light made him gasp and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. When he opened
them again he was surrounded by four men in white polar gear, looking down on
him, surprise clearly visible in their eyes, even through the blizzard.

"Sir, it's a man," a voice was saying loudly through the storm.

"Let's get him inside the sub before he freezes to death." A second voice came
from far away, or was that Daniel's own imagination? He didn't care; he just
wanted to sleep now. He was going to be saved.

There was a sensation of being lifted, even though he didn't feel them touching
him. It was the weirdest thing. Jack would be amazed. Jack.

All went black.

Daniel felt warm and comfortable. The bed was not as soft as his, but that was
okay. He felt sleepy, but deep down inside he knew he had to get up. Get up to
do something important. As soon as he could make his mind cooperate, he would
know what it was.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and looked straight into the round red face of a man
he didn't recognize. Startled by this face so close to his own made him scramble
upwards as quickly as he could, which wasn't really all that fast.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy."

Strong hands were pushing him down on what he could see was a gurney. Two
blankets covered his body, a normal one and another that appeared to be
aluminium foil to try and warm him up. The itch in his arm made it apparent he
also had an IV running, his skin itching all over now that he became aware of
his surroundings and physical state.

The memories of Ba'al killing Jack, of the sinking ship and the cold suddenly
came crushing down on him and he swallowed, looking up at the man standing next
to him. Had it been a dream? One big hallucination?

"I'm Doctor Brooks," the round face who was still holding one of his arms
explained in a soft voice. "You were found on the ice about an hour ago and are
aboard the Navy submarine U.S.S. Alexandria."

Submarine? He was on a submarine? No dream after all? This was real? Ooh God! If
this was real, it meant that Jack's death was real as well. Sam and Mitchell
lost on the ice, also a reality if they weren't safe and sound in this same sub
already. His leg.

His hand pushed away the blankets in one swift movement before Doctor Brooks
could stop him. He was still wearing his desert cameo clothes, but no sign of
the cold weather gear they had found on the ship. The left seam of his pants was
cut open up to his knee and his sock and shoe had been removed. A large warm wet
cloth was lying on his foot and leg, and he could now feel it burn and tingle a
bit.

He let out a gasp of air he had been holding. His leg was there, in one piece.
And it didn't even hurt much. Or was that a bad thing? Maybe they just doped him
up with something?

The doctor pulled the blankets back up to his chest. There was a worried look on
the man's face for just an instant. Daniel could easily have missed that, but he
didn't. Now there was a sudden smile on the round face. "And your name is?"

Of course. No one knew who he was or where he'd come from. He'd been so busy
assessing his own situation that he totally forgot to introduce himself to the
good doctor. Holding out his hand he returned the smile.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson."

"Doctor?"

"Not medical."

Doctor Brooks nodded and didn't ask any further questions; Daniel himself didn't
have the answers right now anyway. The doctor turned around to pull a chair up
to the gurney, a serious look on his face as he moved his head in the general
direction of Daniel's legs.

"You probably already know you have frostbite on your left foot and part of the
leg?"

"I thought as much, yes."

"Well." The doctor let out a sigh, typical for someone who's about to give a
patient extremely bad news. Janet would do it all the time as well, before she…

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment. He so didn't want to hear what the doctor
had to say. But he had no choice of course. Not listening would not make it go
away or change the diagnosis.

"You are extremely lucky we found you, and still alive. But as far as the leg is
concerned, nerve damage occurred because oxygen couldn't get to the area.
Gangrene may follow if the blood vessels and nerves are too severely damaged.
Amputation may eventually be required."

"Wha, what?" He stared at the man. Daniel knew it was rude to stare, but
couldn't help it. Here he was, in an alternate timeline, with a strange doctor
on a submarine telling him he was probably going to loose his leg. This couldn't
be happening. It was so unreal.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jackson." The doctor moved his hand towards Daniel, probably to
offer comfort. Before the hand reached its destination, Daniel held up his own
in a way that he hoped would indicate that he didn't want to be touched.

The doctor's hand fell on the blanket, and Daniel could see he was at a loss for
words. "I have given you some medication through the IV, so you shouldn't feel
any pain." If doctors couldn't think of anything else to say they would always
sum up the medical side of things. Like it would help.

"My friends?" It was all he could choke out between clenched teeth. He needed
Sam to be alive. Thinking about her made him want to see her so badly it hurt.

"I was informed five minutes ago that Colonel O'Neill and his team found two
people on the ice, and we're on our way to a rendezvous point."

Sam and Mitchell. It had to be them. The hurt turned into hope. They were alive.
Who else could they have found on the ice fields? No, it was them. And now there
was a chance to undo what Ba'al had done. He had to believe that. Events could
be turned around. Sam would have an idea. She'd know what to do to get them out
of this mess.

"Colonel O'Neill you say? Jack O'Neill?"

"Yes. You know each other?"

"We do, uh, did." The face of Jack, laying on the floor, white as a sheet, the
life force draining out of him, came back to him in full living color. If Jack
was dead, what about this Jack? Was he the man to help them out?

"I'll be back in a little while," Doctor Brooks said all of a sudden and stood
up. "You need to drink and eat something. I'll make sure it's brought to you."

"Yes." He could hear himself answer, and when the door was locked and he was
alone the feeling of this all being some bad dream came back to him. Daniel
could hear his own slow breathing in the small damp room. He had to concentrate
on it, waiting for Sam and Mitchell to arrive.

Maybe they would wake him up.

The operation had been a success. He just lost his left lower leg, no big deal.
He had been too numb, pumped full with all the pain meds, to care. Too numb with
all the interrogations to think about it. His mind had been too busy to find a
way out of this situation.

He really wanted to be allowed to talk to either Sam or Cam. He needed their
support right now more then ever. But they had separated them five days ago and
locked him up in this hospital room. Not even a real hospital but a Navy
military base. What did they think he would do? Run away? Very ironic.

They interrogated him, and then offered to let him talk to a psychiatrist, to
help him deal with the loss of his leg. Again, how ironic. So, he'd said no. He
didn't need a shrink. He needed time with his friends. But it didn't look like
he was going to get that any time soon. He'd deal with this like he'd dealt with
just about everything else in his life, alone.

"Dr. Jackson."

The voice came from behind him. He had been sitting there in his room, in a
wheelchair, staring out of the window for God only knew how long. The pain meds
made it hard to track the passage of time and it was difficult to really be
conscious about anything.

They probably wanted to interrogate him one more time. He didn't care. He felt
disconnected with everything. And it didn't even frighten him. He was so tired
of explaining things over and over to people who didn't believe him.

"Yes," Daniel heard himself reply in a soft voice.

"You are allowed to see your friends."

Daniel's inner consciousness suddenly opened one eye. Friends? He was allowed to
see his…"

Turning his head around with a snap, he blinked at the man standing next to him.
"See my friends?"

"Yes."

"What's going on?" Daniel's mind almost seemed to be fully awake now. Like an
alarm went off and adrenaline was rushing through his body. Whatever it was, he
needed to know why he was suddenly allowed to see them. Was this a trick to get
him to talk some more?

"You don't want to see them?" The man showed no emotion at all; just a flunky
delivering a message. No hidden agenda it seemed.

"Of course I do."

"I have orders to take you to the hangar on base."

"Then by all means." Daniel waved his hand towards the door, but the man looked
at him like he didn't understand. "The chair, are you going to help or what?
Push the chair."

He was going to see his friends. Finally they would be able to talk this
through. All of this. And they would get a chance to set this right. He had to
believe that.

Maybe something the others had said woke up the military after all? Sam and
Mitchell weren't fools. They would know exactly how to play the game.

Yes. All was going to be fine. Daniel didn't even want to think about another
option while the Navy guy was pushing his wheelchair into a long corridor.

This had to work out.

Daniel pushed the door with his right foot while trying to keep his balance on
the crutches, and it slammed shut behind him. Hopping the last few steps to his
new couch, he dumped the duffel bag, and let out a sigh.

There he was in his new apartment in New York. He had new furniture and all
compliments of the Navy. It was small and dark. Small windows, a living room,
tiny kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. He could see all the rooms from where
he was standing. It really was all he needed, as he was certain it wouldn't be a
permanent thing anyway. They would find a way out of this mess. Daniel still had
to believe that.

He hopped to the fridge and cupboards in the kitchen, opening them. They were
filled with food. He could see the coffee he liked so much and wondered how the
military knew that, but decided not to think about it too much or be ungrateful.
He needed a strong cup of coffee right now.

Still on pain meds, he knew it probably wasn't a good idea but it might calm his
nerves. The rules he had to play by right now made him sick to his stomach. He
was not allowed to contact either Sam or Mitchell. He was ordered to forget
everything and start a new life. How did you go about that when you knew it
wasn't really your life?

A strong cup of coffee it was. He needed to think straight. Think about his,
their, next move.

Pulling off his jacket, Daniel dumped it next to his duffel bag on the couch.
Then he hopped to the coffee machine, filled it with water and coffee and turned
it on. Turning around to get a cup from another cupboard, he suddenly lost his
balance and crashed to his side on the kitchen floor.

"Damn."

And then the phone started ringing from the living room.

"Damn, damn." He tried to scramble up, but the floor was slippery and he landed
back on his butt, collecting yet another nice bruise. Why did phones always ring
when you were in the bathroom, getting dressed, sleeping, or lying on the
kitchen floor unable to maneuver?

Sliding on his right side, he moved his leg to push himself into the living
room. There he pulled himself up with help of the couch and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes?"

"This is Lieutenant Muldoon from the Navy. I'm just checking in to see if
everything is going well, and to fax you the address of the hospital you can
visit for check ups on your leg."

"Do I have to report of check ups?"

"We pay for everything, Dr. Jackson."

Of course they do. He didn't say it out loud, as he knew he had no choice.
Yeah, choiceless. that rang a bell from his past.

He could change the dressings on his leg himself, but needed to go to the
hospital now and again to see if the wound was healing correctly. And he
obviously needed an artificial limb if he ever wanted to walk again. And who
would pay for that? Oh, right, the military, of course.

"Fax me the address then."

"Everything is alright otherwise?"

"Yes, fine." He wasn't going to tell the lieutenant the whole thing sucked; that
he was not fine at all, because the only thing he wanted was to go home. His own
home, not this substitute bunch of rooms and furniture, a life that was so not
him. And for how long?

The thought alone suddenly made him shiver. They would watch his every move, he
realized that now. He'd deluded himself into believing it wouldn't be so bad,
that he'd be able to work around it, but these guys were going to control every
move he would make. Watch him like a hawk.

Hopping to the window he shoved aside some curtains that smelled like they
hadn't been washed in ages and looked outside, his attention on the street
below. Watching the street for a while, he tried to find something out of the
ordinary. Like NID in black suits in the bushes, or military on the rooftops.

.Nothing.

Of course that didn't mean anything. Daniel had dealt with these situations more
then once in his life. He stumbled backwards and almost fell again, grabbing the
chair next to the window to regain his balance.

Dealt with it, yes. But loosing a leg and dealing with it. That was new.

Yeah, he definitely needed that coffee now.

The walls were green, light green. Daniel wondered who in the world would pick
out this color for a wall. The chair he was sitting on felt hard. Plastic. Dark
green. He felt like he was in some spa resort because there was a fake palm tree
inside near the entrance and a lady in a white coat behind a desk smiling at
him.

Although at a spa there would be people walking around in bathrobes and
slippers. Here he could see people through a large window to his right. He
could look straight into a hall, this time with pale yellow walls. It looked
light, with a view to a nice garden, and even a swimming pool. The people in
there were walking between two horizontal bars, or playing games like basket
ball.

He'd received a card from the military. They'd heard from the doctors in their
own nice little cozy hospital that Dr. Jackson's wound was closed and the
artificial limb was ready for use. It was time for some physiotherapy.

This rehabilitation center was owned and operated by the Navy. So if they sent
Dr. Jackson there they could continue to keep an eye on him. Yes, he'd had a lot
of choice there in that decision as well…not.

A door opened behind the desk and a man walked towards him.

"Hi Dr. Jackson, I'm Joe Henderson, your physiotherapist for the next few
months." The dark man, who was about his height and age, gave him a bright
smile, and Daniel saw a bunch of pearly white teeth. "I see you have a
transtibial prosthesis in that bag over there, so that should allow for easy
movement soon."

Daniel stared up at the man, and then at the prosthetic leg, still in its
plastic bag they gave him at the hospital, resting on the chair next to him. A
little plastic toe was peeping out. He still preferred his crutches. The
prosthetic wasn't great. It hurt the scar tissue and bones just below the knee
when he put it on.

Easy movement? Was this guy out of his mind? He would probably never run again,
and this man, all healthy and happy came in, telling him he would move around
like he did before? Right now Daniel had the urge to shove his 'transtibial
prosthesis' in Joe's face.

"Daniel," he said instead.

"What?"

"I prefer you call me Daniel instead of Dr. Jackson."

"Ah, okay." The grin widened if that was even possible. "Well, Daniel. I know
the wound below the knee is closed now, so you can start practicing with the
prosthetic limb."

"Today?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." Daniel swallowed the thought he was about to say out loud. About
this being a screwed up timeline, and that they were not allowed to change
it…yet. And if they did, none of this would have happened, or been happening, or
happen, or whatever.

Joe didn't ask any further questions, for which Daniel was grateful, and waved
his hand. "Come on, let's go."

Daniel grabbed his crutches and shoved the bag with the prosthetic limb under
one arm. Joe was already at the door, while he was still rooted to the same
spot, swaying there precariously on his one leg, trying not to lose the
artificial thing.

He really hated feeling so helpless, but he was not going to fall flat on his
face in front of that lady at the desk. No way. Daniel felt Joe's eyes landing
on him, but he didn't come over to lend a hand. Again, Daniel felt grateful for
that.

Finally making it to the door, Joe led him into a small office attached to the
hall. It had a desk, two chairs and a gurney. A normal physiotherapist's office.
There was a photo on the desk of Joe with a woman and a little girl of about
four with long black curly hair. They all smiled that pearly white smile. One
happy family.

Sitting down, Daniel was suddenly reminded of what General Landry had said not
too long ago; how arrogant they all were in thinking that this was the wrong
timeline, that it should be fixed. Looking at the photo of Joe and his family,
Daniel wondered what would happen if they did get a chance to set things
straight. Would Joe still be married? Still have his beautiful wife and
daughter?

Joe rummaged through some files on his desk and found the dossier with Daniel's
name on it. Daniel could see it typed in black on the cover. Dr. Daniel Jackson.
And a red label with the word classified was pasted on the cover as well.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson." Joe looked up at him.

"Daniel."

"Yes, Daniel." A smile swiftly came to Joe's friendly face. "I will not waste
too much time with paperwork. I'm more a man of practice myself. The best way to
start walking is to start walking, not talking, I always say."

Daniel tried a smile but felt less than confident about all of it. He could see
Joe observing him carefully, so he tried to keep his face a neutral as possible.
"You are working for the Navy, right?"

"Right."

"You know all about me and my story?"

"Yes." Joe closed Daniel's file with a loud snap and sniffed like he had a cold.
"I don't agree with their methods concerning you and your friends. Like the
keeping you separated bit. But I am not allowed to have an opinion on this of
course, so this is strictly between us."

Before Daniel could answer, Joe pushed his office chair away from the desk, so
that he was right in front of Daniel's chair. "We have all the time in the world
to talk about it, but let me take a look at your leg now."

"The leg has healed nicely. Did you walk on the prosthetic limb before coming
here?" Joe asked while he put down his note pad and took the 'thing,' as Daniel
called the plastic leg, in his hand.

"No, no walking. They just fitted it a few days ago."

"You just got it, right?"

"Yes."

"Well it's time to put it on and start walking then."

"Just like that?" Daniel raised his eyebrows. He felt very skeptical about all
of it. Even standing on the thing hurt, so why in the world was Joe ignoring
this, talking about it like it was no big deal? Maybe Joe thought it didn't
always hurt? He probably should let Joe know it did; that it constantly hurt.

Before he could, Joe nodded like he was reading his mind. "It takes getting used
to."

"And the pain goes away?"

"Yeah."

"How long?"

"That depends, it's different for everyone." One corner of Joe's mouth went
slightly up in a knowing, or at least understanding, smile.

This seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, Daniel decided. Whatever might happen,
he knew he should give it a try. Give Joe a chance to do his job without making
too much of a fuss. He just wanted this all to be over with, sooner rather than
later. If Sam, Mitchell or all of them could set things straight somehow, they
would take the chance. Leg or no leg.

Joe looked at the top part of the artificial limb made out of hard plastic but
with a soft inner lining for protection. He then took Daniel's left leg and put
the stump into it carefully. The pain was bearable when he adjusted the limb a
bit. Then Joe stood up and came back with a walker.

Daniel had seen these walkers before, but that had been a long time ago. He'd
been visiting his grandmother in an elder home, together with his dad. He
couldn't have been more than five or six years old at the time, but he still
remembered. It helped the elderly people move around. And now he needed one
himself.

'All right Daniel; it's time to get started,' he told himself firmly. What good
would it do to sit here and stare at the walker?

Joe gave him an encouraging smile. "I won't let you fall, Daniel."

"Thanks." It was all Daniel could say before lifting himself up off the chair to
put pressure on the leg. He grabbed hold of the walker. It took all of his
concentration, but there he was, standing on two legs. He had even stepped
forward away from the chair without thinking about it.

"Do you feel any pain?" Joe asked nearby, and Daniel suddenly realized the man
was standing right next to him. How did he get there so fast?

"It's bearable." The pain really wasn't too bad. Not like what he'd felt in
hospital when they first fitted the thing, not the pain he felt when they asked
him to stand on it the first time. The pain he'd made sure to avoid ever since.

"Good." Joe laid one hand on his arm. "Want to walk to the end of the room?"

"Okay."

Daniel felt the pressure building up inside his leg in the plastic case of the
limb, and he bit his lip while he took the first couple of steps. Leaning
heavily on the walker, he felt the energy leaving his body almost immediately.
The palms of his hands began to sweat and he started to shake all over from the
exertion.

Suddenly Joe was there with a chair, a chair he put behind Daniel so he could
sit down. It took him a couple of minutes to catch his breath and regain some
strength. Right now it felt like the battery to his energizer bunny had run
down.

"You know what? You can start walking between the walking bars in the hall
tomorrow." Joe almost slapped him on the back, a wide smile spreading on his
face. "Before you know it, you'll walk like you never walked before."

Never walked before? Of course Daniel realized that Joe meant this as a positive
comment, but he didn't feel the confidence Joe seemed to have. If little steps
across a small room already left him exhausted, walking a longer distance was
completely daunting. Joe might think he could do it, but what about him? Where
did he come into the picture? He had to do the walking, not Joe.

He gave Joe a careful smile while the therapist removed the artificial limb.
Even with the man's optimism, it was not going to be easy.

When the doorbell rang, Daniel wondered who it could be. He hadn't ordered any
take out, yet, and his music wasn't loud enough to attract any neighbors. His
spirits rose. Maybe it was one of his team mates?

Yeah right. What was he thinking?

With no time to put on the prosthetic limb, he pushed down the leg of his pants
and hopped to the door, using his couch and the little cabinet in the hall for
support. Joe told him to try and wear the limb as much as he could, to get used
to it. But here, in the comfort of his apartment, it was easier said than done.

Opening the door, there stood Joe. Daniel noticed that he had a bottle of wine
under one arm and pizza boxes in his hands.

It suddenly reminded Daniel so fiercely of Jack that he swallowed the words he
was about to say, lost in memories of nights he and Jack often spent with pizza
and beer watching endless hockey games that Daniel had no real interest in. He
watched because Jack enjoyed it and Daniel enjoyed Jack's company. Watching
hockey was a small price to pay.

He must have looked like a fish out of water, because Joe got this concerned
look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Daniel heard himself mumble. Then he composed himself and managed a
polite smile. "Sorry, little surprised here." Hopping back a couple of steps
into the hall he moved his hand in an inviting gesture. "Come in; make yourself
comfortable in my temporary home."

Joe started talking the minute he walked in the door. And knowing the man for a
week now, it would probably take a glass of wine to shut him up.

"Daniel, sorry I burst in on you like this and really, I don't make a habit out
of visiting my patients. But because I know you don't have any friends around
here I came to offer you my help, and…"

Before Joe went on, Daniel raised his index finger, effectively stopping the man
in mid sentence. It always worked, except with Jack.

"I'm not a five year old, Joe."

The man only meant well, Daniel had known him long enough to realize that. But
Joe had a wife and little daughter. He could not expect him to help Dr. Jackson
out whenever he was in trouble.

"Of course I appreciate the offer, but I really can take care of myself."

Joe looked a little taken aback by Daniel's statements, but then he grinned at
him. "I know you can, Daniel." He put down the pizza boxes and wine on the
kitchen counter. "Just came to tell you, you can always call me if need be. Oh,
and to ask for a spare key."

"Why?" Daniel totally forgot to play the good host to his guest. He was too
surprised. Give Joe a key to his apartment? Wasn't it bad enough to have the
military following his every move? Or maybe Joe had been ordered to watch him
more closely?

"If something happened," Joe started, "if you fell on the floor and couldn't get
up, or couldn't get to the door. What would you do and who would you call
Daniel?"

"Jack." Daniel heard himself automatically reply without thinking. The second it
left his mouth and he realized what he'd said, he lost his balance and stumbled
backwards landing on the couch. The O'Neill of this timeline had made it very
clear he wanted nothing to do with him, with any of them. Daniel's body was
betraying him and clearly telling him he probably could do with Joe's help.

"Jack?" Joe asked with a confused look.

Daniel waved the question away. He wasn't willing to talk about his own time
line with Joe. He knew that the man was familiar with everything in Daniel's
file, but talking about it was a whole different ball game.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he frowned. "Did the military order you to do
this? Keep an eye on me and all?"

Joe's brows lifted and almost reached his curly black hair line. "Oh God,
Daniel. Of course not!" He sounded shocked. "I know it's not always easy to get
around the house, and even less with an artificial leg. I just want to help."

Not knowing what to say, Daniel stared at Joe, at the pizza boxes, the wine and
back at Joe. Why couldn't he just accept it? Accept help, and get on with it?
Anyway, he might not ever need to call Joe.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

"It's all right." Joe grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter. "Lets open
this, and we can talk some more…if you like."

Daniel's eyes roamed over the pizza boxes and he could hear his stomach growl.
"I can go for pizza, but pizza and wine?"

"How about a beer then?"

"Good plan."

With a gasp, Daniel woke up. The pain in his left leg was overpowering. It stung
and burned right up to his knee like never before. It felt like his lower leg
was on fire. Biting his lip to stop himself from screaming out in agony, he
fumbled for the light on the night stand, finally switching it on, ready to jump
out of bed and find some water to cool the leg.

He suddenly slipped and found himself flat on his face next to the bed. Lying
there gasping and disoriented, he realized he'd tried to stand on two legs
instead of balancing on one in his hurry to get water.

Turning around, Daniel kicked off the blankets that fell down with him with his
one leg. The left leg still burned and Daniel grabbed for the cup of water on
his night stand. The water would cool the wound. It would help. It had to help.
It felt like the leg that was lost was the one causing the trouble. But that
wasn't possible, was it?

The cup fell out of his shaking hand the minute he got a hold on it. With a
desperate curse, he grabbed the phone instead. Jack! Jack would know what to do.
He had to call Jack. It was like his brain was acting on auto pilot. Then Daniel
realized through the haze of pain; no, not Jack. He needed to call Joe for help.
This was his only chance.

It seemed to take forever before someone picked it up on the other end. Daniel
was humming and pounding his fist on the floor over and over to ride out the
pain.

"Yes?"

"Joe. You've got to tell me what to do," he gasped. His voice sounded shaky.

"Daniel?"

"It burns, and it won't stop. Please, Joe."

"Try and massage the leg a bit, Daniel. And get some cold and hot compresses."
Joe's voice was calm on the other side of the line. "I'll be right over."

Daniel could hear Joe opening the door to his apartment, but he was still in too
much pain to call out to him. He needed all his concentration to keep the pain
from overwhelming him as his fist hit the floor.

"Daniel?"

Long minutes seemed to pass and then a soft cool cloth was put on his left leg.
He couldn't manage to open his eyes to check it out. Then the cool cloth was
replaced by a warm one. It seemed to ease the pain, but just a little.

Then Joe started a light massage. And all Daniel could do was to bite on his
lower lip to ride out the stinging pain. Then a hand on his arm made him open
his eyes with a snap. He had almost slipped into a trance and the pain was all
but gone now.

Joe didn't say a word. Just took Daniel's hands and carefully lay them on the
leg.

"You try it. Slow moves."

"No." He quickly pulled back his hands. "No, I…"

"If you learn to do this yourself, Daniel," Joe explained patiently with a calm
expression on his face, "then you won't have to call me in the middle of the
night while I'm sleeping, and beg me to come over."

"I didn't beg," Daniel ground out between his teeth. Then he looked at Joe who
was sitting on his knees in front of him on the bedroom floor looking worried.

"What was that, Joe?"

"What was what?"

"The pain?"

"Phantom pain." Joe stood up and gave him a hand to sit on the bed. "This is a
normal reaction of the brain to the loss of a limb. The brain still thinks the
limb is there, so you experience pain in it."

"Ah." Daniel had heard of this before. In the hospital they had given him some
info brochures about it. Not that he had been interested in reading them. There
had been too many other things to deal with at the time.

"They didn't give you any medication for this just in case?" Joe asked with a
look of restrained anger on his face, like he was about to strangle one of
Daniel's doctors. "They should have."

"Don't blame them." Daniel rubbed his temples, suddenly feeling really tired. "I
should have asked."

"But you didn't know."

"But I should have," he answered. "I was too busy with other things, like trying
to get into contact with my friends and other timeline stuff."

"I'll ask our center's doctor to give you a prescription." Joe didn't react to
his timeline comment. And why in the world should he? There was nothing he could
do about it anyway. Nothing Daniel could do either.

"Thanks."

"Meanwhile, you really should learn how to massage the leg."

"Tomorrow?" Daniel yawned. "Too tired now."

Joe smiled. "Okay, tomorrow. That's a deal!"

It had been a long day. Daniel was so not up for another walking session with
Joe. He hadn't slept very well. Phantom pain had made it all but impossible to
catch more than a couple of hours, even with the massage method that Joe had
taught him. He felt cranky, bitchy and misunderstood.

As usual, he'd taken a taxi to the rehabilitation center and sat for a while in
the green waiting room for Joe to come and pick him up. Joe, who seemed to be in
just a terrific mood, that had made Daniel even more cranky and pissy than he'd
already been.

Joe had checked out his leg and the prosthetic once again, and now Daniel was
sitting there on his little green plastic chair, in between the walking bars. He
couldn't muster the energy or interest to even get up and try to start walking.

"You have to help me here, Daniel." Joe looked down at him; he could feel the
penetrating stare on the top of his head. "I can't do anything if you're giving
up on it."

"I'm not giving up!" Daniel snapped at Joe. His voice echoed through the hall, a
lot louder then he had anticipated. Faces were turning to stare at them.

He wasn't upset with Joe, but upset with himself, the whole situation, this damn
alternate timeline that was so not like his time. The pain. Why couldn't he get
out of here, contact Sam and set things straight right away? Although with the
military and political system not wanting them to do anything and watching his
every move, what the hell was he supposed to do?

He was alone, lost half his leg, and God, how he missed his team mates! Their
support, friendship, ideas. He missed Jack. His Jack. The old Jack. The O'Neill
of this time had been cold, distant, totally uninterested in them, someone to
forget, fast. How in the world could people be so terribly dissimilar in
different timelines anyway?

"Well?" Joe pulled him out of his train of thought. He gestured to the walking
bars. With one defiant look in Joe's direction, Daniel bit his lower lip and
slowly stood. The pain going through his amputated leg stung like never before,
and he let out a low groan, and sat back down.

"I can't do this."

"Yes you can!"

"How the hell do you know how I feel?" Daniel demanded.

"So, you just want to sit here and give up?"

"Of course not." Daniel felt tears in his eyes. He so didn't want to start
sobbing in front of Joe. He was feeling too upset, angry and hurt to stop them
though. "I just want."

Joe didn't say anything, but moved to his knees in front of Daniel's chair,
looking him straight in the eye. He grabbed Daniel's hands, and when he wanted
to pull them back, Joe grabbed on a little tighter. "What is it you want,
Daniel?"

He couldn't help but let out a tiny hysterical giggle, while tears were still
making his eyesight very blurry. He didn't look up at Joe. "I. I want to see my
friends."

Joe let out a sigh. "You know you are not allowed to."

"I don't fucking care!" He spit it out, regretting the venom in his voice the
minute he'd spoken. Taking deep breaths he tried to calm down a bit. "I'm
sorry."

"It's okay." Joe was still holding his hands. "I know you need the support of
your friends right now. It's not like, 'Oh, I lost my leg but am still alive,'
and everything's just fine."

Daniel felt it deep in his chest the moment his own words from not so long ago
echoed back at him; words that Joe didn't hear him say out loud, but must have
heard many times before.

"You are learning to live with the loss, and I'm not saying it's easy, it never
will be. And I do not like or approve of the military keeping your friends from
you, you know that. But you have to believe me, Daniel. You *can* walk. It's
possible. Always remember, where there's life, there's hope."

He waited for something else to come. Daniel waited for Joe to tell him to stop
being such a loser, and get it over it. Nothing happened. It was suddenly quiet
in the large room. You could hear the slightest sound, like the chirping of a
bird outside. He didn't dare to look up. The shoe on his right foot looked very
interesting right now.

Daniel felt embarrassed. He knew Joe was right. Of course it was possible. There
were people that were paraplegics, no legs at all, that were walking again. Even
doing sports and running.

He was a whining idiot, feeling sorry for himself, wanting so very desperately
to be what? Saved by Sam and a magical doohickey that would suddenly restore the
right timeline? If Ba'al ever decided to attack this Earth, and he still
couldn't put one foot in front of the other because of his self pity, he would
be so screwed. And he was almost 99% sure Ba'al would give it his best shot.

No. Self pity wouldn't help him and he knew it. He had to start walking, moving,
get mobile at the very least. His future depended on it. He knew Ba'al was
coming. It was only a matter of time. And he needed to be as close to 100% as
possible when that time came.

The world would need everything that he, Sam and Mitchell knew to over throw the
most powerful of the System Lords, and because if the opportunity came to set
things straight, find the right timeline, he wanted, no, needed, to be there. He
would not be left behind.

Looking up at Joe, he tried a smile. "I'm ready."

"Good." Joe smiled back at him, and took his hand. "Let's walk."

Daniel stood on the sidewalk and paid his taxi driver. Then he looked around at
the building behind him. Joe's apartment was in that building. He'd been invited
to dinner, and in a way it was goodbye. He no longer needed therapy. He was
ready to move on, only using a cane for support now.

The taxi drove off, and Daniel walked to the large front door. There was a
directory with names on the wall to the side. Many listings, as it was a large
building. This was a nice neighborbood, well, at least in his timeline it was.

Finding Joe's name in the directory took a while. He felt like he'd been
standing there for half an hour when he finally pushed the button of the
intercom for the family of J. Henderson.

"Hello?" Joe's voice echoed through the silence at the building's entrance.

"Hi, it's Daniel."

"Come on up," Joe said. "Oh, and I'll cut you some slack, you can take the
elevator," the therapist who'd become his friend teased.

Daniel pushed open the door to the hall and grinned. Joe had him walking up and
down stairs everywhere in the city the last few weeks. He even wanted Daniel to
climb the stairs in the Empire state building. This is where Daniel had drawn
the line.

A small handsome African American woman dressed in a yellow shirt and jean skirt
opened the door to the apartment. She smiled up at him. "You must be Daniel?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm Milly." The smile grew wider. "And do come in."

"Thanks."

She walked before him into the cozy living room, and then headed towards the
connecting kitchen. He saw Joe standing near the window with a little girl on
his arms. The girl was about four or five; Daniel couldn't really tell.

"Hey, Daniel. Welcome to my home."

"Nice place."

"Thank you," Joe said with a smile and walked towards him now, the little girl
still on his arm.

"This is Alisa. Say hi to Daniel, Alisa."

The little girl smiled at him, seemingly not shy at all. Then she reached out
her little hands to show him a rag doll she apparently had been hiding under her
shirt. "Hi Daniel, this is Ina."

Daniel took one of the arms of the doll and shook it, a serious look on his
face. "Nice to meet you Ina, and you Alisa."

Alisa giggled and turned to give her father a hug. Joe put her down on the floor
and waved towards the kitchen. "Wanna go help your mom?"

The little girl ran off, leaving a proud looking dad behind. It reminded Daniel
of the photo on Joe's desk. It felt like years ago now, even though it had only
been a few months. Daniel also felt the doubt of his thoughts from an earlier
time. Would Joe still have a loving wife and child if they changed the timeline?

Daniel hadn't thought about changing any timelines lately. But even with the
doubt he felt now, he knew deep in his heart where he belonged; his work at the
SGC, his friends. Having two legs to walk on. Joe or not, he was still willing
to drop everything in an instant if it meant setting things right. Although he
admitted, right had a slightly different meaning now looking at Joe, Milly and
Alisa Henderson.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner."

Daniel and Joe were standing in the hall downstairs, leading to the outside.
Dinner had been great. Milly had made her famous roasted chicken, and there had
been mango ice cream for dessert. Daniel had thanked her about ten times before
saying his goodbyes.

"You take care of yourself," Joe insisted and smiled one of his bright white
smiles, suddenly enveloping Daniel in a fierce hug that almost made him fall
over.

A little embarrassed, Daniel smiled back and grabbed the man's hand, the man
who'd done so much for him for so many hours. The man who helped him deal with
all of this. He felt he'd learned so very much from him and it would be so weird
if they got a chance to set the timeline straight. He wouldn't remember Joe at
all. Wouldn't have learned from the experience either.

He hadn't thought about Sam or Mitchell for a while. Now he wondered what they'd
been doing in the past months. Had they also made new friends, like he had? He
wished he could call Sam to ask.

"Thanks for everything, Joe." Daniel knew he should say more, tell Joe how much
his help had meant to him, but he realized that Joe knew already. There was
nothing more to say. It was time to move on.

"You're always welcome to come see me, Daniel."

Daniel smiled. "That's good to hear Joe. But for now, I've seen enough flights
of stairs to last me a lifetime."

Joe let out a burst of laughter. "You better promise to keep practicing or I'll
come after you with more of the same."

Daniel laughed. "Is that a threat?"

Joe slapped him on the shoulder. "You bet it is."

"Thanks again." Daniel waved at Joe one more time before leaving the building.
He wondered what he was going to do now that his therapy stopped. Maybe he
really should try and find Sam? Try and find a way to get around the military
watchdogs?

It was worth thinking about. Because he was so not willing to find a job he
didn't like and stay in this apartment and time forever.

Walking out of the shop, the book in a plastic bag, Daniel tried to stop himself
from grinning. He must have been really bored to even think of buying his own
book. With the military not allowing him to pursue anything that was even
remotely interesting, it was no wonder either.

Daniel had always been driven by curiosity, and the last couple of months he'd
been either stuck in his apartment doing translations of romantic novels, the
kind of novels he would never read, or he was out on the street going through
museums or finding little book shops and roaming through old books.

Yes, it had been incredibly boring. No Joe with his funny jokes, no calls from
Sam, Mitchell or the military. He was really on his own once more. And he found
himself counting the days waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Ba'al would be coming. Why would he change the timeline if he wasn't planning a
grand scheme of invading Earth? No, he would be coming. And Daniel also found
himself willing for Ba'al to arrive these past weeks, if only to relieve the
boredom. It really was ridiculous.

Getting back to his apartment, Daniel all but ripped the book out of its bag.
Settling with a sigh on his couch, he started to read instantly. He needed to
feed his intellect right now, to find out if the Daniel Jackson from this
timeline was seen as a nutcase, like General Landry had said, or if his
alternative self had it right, even if he didn't realize it.

It was getting dark outside and Daniel's leg started to hurt a bit. It was time
to remove the artificial limb and head off to bed. Maybe he could finish the
book before falling asleep. Yes, that would be a great idea, he decided.

Walking through the kitchen, his stomach protested. He hadn't eaten anything
while reading and had forgotten all about food, even coffee. It struck a sense
of familiarity within him. He thought about nights in his office at the base,
reading up on languages and figuring out alien artifacts. He missed that.

After a chicken sandwich, he let out a sigh of contentment when he eased himself
down on the bed against the pillows. He'd dropped the plastic leg on the bed,
book in his hand and, with a cup of coffee on the night stand, he proceeded to
finish the book and confirm that the Daniel Jackson of this time wasn't a
crackpot; he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Daniel was aware that he shouldn't call. The call might even be traced by the
military. But he couldn't help himself. He had to let the Dr. Jackson of this
timeline know that he wasn't crazy.

Without further thought, he picked up the phone.

Not even two minutes later, the man, the other Daniel Jackson, had hung up on
him. Just like that. Before he even had a chance to really assure the man that
he had meant what he'd said.

Daniel put down the phone with a sigh. Only he could have been stupid enough to
call himself. What was he trying to achieve with it anyway? That this Daniel
from this time line should be a bit more confident? Believe in himself? Be him,
the Daniel Jackson who had been working for the SGC for years?

This Daniel Jackson was living in Egypt. One of the places he himself had been
happy for a long time. Abydos had always reminded him of that time. But this
Daniel sounded like a bitter man, the man he would probably have become if
Catherine Langford hadn't asked him to join the Stargate program. The man he
didn't want to become by being stuck here forever.

Maybe he should give his military contact a call tomorrow. Just to get an
update. They would probably give him a call anyway, after what he'd just done.
He was amazed a swat team hadn't already come rushing into the bedroom.

He stared at the book. Well, he'd tried. Tried to be as supportive as he could.
He rolled over to wait for sleep to claim him.

Daniel put down the phone, staring at it in disbelief. He'd really been talking
to Sam. It was so good to hear her voice, even when the message was that Ba'al's
forces were invading Earth. This Earth, this time. Not his.

President Hayes had asked them for help. Finally they could try and fix all of
this. And Daniel had no doubt that they could. He felt confident. Sam sounded
like she already had a plan. And the three of them would be able to restore
their timeline.

Where there's life, there's hope. He should always remember that.

Hearing this comment out loud in his mind, he suddenly remembered Joe, living
with his family in New York. The Goa'uld would probably try and destroy the big
cities first if they started their real attack. This wasn't good. Before leaving
he knew there was one thing he must do. Call Joe.

Getting out of bed had become routine; pulling on the artificial leg, getting
dressed, everything. He opened his closet and threw his duffel bag on the bed.
He'd better fill it up with some of his stuff. Even though he knew it wouldn't
really be necessary. People always wanted to hold on to things. Daniel was no
different.

When he was done, he grabbed the phone on his night stand. He felt nervous for
some reason. It'd been a while since he talked to Joe. Daniel suddenly wondered
if this was the right thing to do. But Sam had said on the phone that Ba'al's
ships were all over the news. Joe must be worried.

"Hello?"

"Joe?"

"Daniel, is that you?"

Joe's voice sounded relieved, as well as anxious, and Daniel almost instantly
knew that Joe had seen the news. Unlike him, Joe did own a TV set. He knew it
was best to keep this short and to the point. He didn't have time to explain.

"Joe, listen to me. Listen carefully. Get out of New York. Take Milly and Alisa
and go to the country."

Joe interrupted him, and Daniel could hear a slight tone of panic in his voice.
"This has something to do with what's on TV?"

"Yes."

"Daniel, I'll do what you ask of me, but let me ask you one favor in return."

"Anything, Joe."

"Set things right!"

"I will Joe. I promise I will. Stay safe."

With this comment, Daniel headed out the door of his apartment to finally meet
up with the friends he'd missed for so many months. This was it; the beginning
of their chance to change things to what they should be. He suddenly felt even
more than just confidence that the three of them would overcome all the odds. He
felt strong. After all, they'd done it on so many occasions in the past.

He could hardly wait to see his Jack alive and well, and have a good laugh about
all this over pizza and beer. Yeah, he could already taste it. Of course he
wouldn't remember any of this if they set things right, but it was the thought
that counted.

He'd be just fine. They all would.

The End.