Chapter 1
It was as if I was waking from a dream. Well, not a dream - more of a nightmare. You know those nightmares where you sit up so fast it hurts? It seemed like that. One moment I was unconscious, the next I found myself sitting in a hospital bed. I wasn't aware that I'd been dead. After all, it's not something you'd instantly assume, is it?
The last thing I remembered I'd lain down on the floor in a room in the SGC, and a Goa'uld had forced its way out of the back of my neck. It had hurt. It had hurt a lot. And then I'd blacked out. Nothing amazing had happened while I was officially dead. There was no white light. God didn't speak to me. But then, why should he? If I hadn't died for good, it'd be a bit silly for him to come and keep me company for a while. What would he say? "Hello, you'll be going back any moment now, try and be good, won't you?" Anyway, there were no life changing experiences. The only life changing experience I'd had lately was when my body was hi-jacked by an alien.
Now I was alive, I wasn't really sure what was expected of me. Apparently, Dr Fraiser had battled to keep me alive, and Major Carter had been able to heal most of the damage with a Goa'uld healing device. It all sounded very technical and I don't pretend to understand much of it, but things didn't look good. The alien had ripped through the most important parts of my nervous system on its way out. At any moment I could have a heart attack or be paralysed. Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit, but my only real chance to survive was if I agreed to become a Tok'ra host. There was no way I was going to do that, even if they were supposed to be the good guys. It would have been better if they'd let me die.
I sound negative, I know. You're thinking that I should be grateful that they saved my life. Well, if they'd saved me for a reason, then I might not have minded. But no, all they did was give me a room in the SGC and leave me to my own devices. I couldn't leave - I was a wanted man. I'd killed, though I hadn't wanted to. I wasn't sure that I could live with myself, and if I couldn't, how could I expect anyone else to put up with me?
I looked around my room for the millionth time. There were a few pictures on the walls, a small attempt to make the place look homely. It was clean. There was a comfortable bed, and a desk, and a computer. It wasn't all that bad, really. I just couldn't help getting the feeling that I wasn't wanted. Every time I was anywhere near any of the people that worked in the base, I could tell that they hated me.
There are probably some of you that thought I was going to stay dead. You probably thought that anything less would be a cop out. Well, part of me thinks the same thing. But this isn't a happy ending; it's more of an uncomfortable beginning. I hadn't asked for a second chance, but that's what I had. More than ever I was aware that I wasn't a nice person. I'd tried being nice, and look how that had ended! This time I was going to be as miserable as I wanted, and I wasn't going to let anyone stop me.
I was playing Minesweeper when there was a knock on the door. I'd spent many hours playing Minesweeper. I was determined to complete an "expert" grid, but I wasn't having much luck. Whoever it was at the door, even if they'd come with some really bad news, they'd do something to dispel this relentless boredom.
The door swung open. It was Dr Fraiser. She was one of the few people who'd been nice to me since my arrival. Perhaps watching me suffer for longer had made her more sympathetic.
"I hope you don't mind the interruption," she said.
"No, I was just..." I waved at the monitor trying to make her believe I'd been doing something constructive. I failed miserably. "I was playing Minesweeper, actually," I admitted.
"I've brought you something," she said, producing an object from behind her back.
I stood up, eager to receive whatever she had for me. I was a sucker when it came to presents. Gingerly I took the package and unwrapped its contents.
"Wow, cheese and pickle sandwiches, my favourite!"
I wasn't being sarcastic. Cheese and pickle was my favourite type of sandwich. You have no idea how hard it is to get a decent cheese and pickle sandwich when you're stuck in the SGC. It's just as hard to get a proper cup of tea. Whenever I don't feel well, although I'm usually a heavy coffee drinker, I have a sudden craving for really strong, hot tea with milk and one sugar. Not a special sort of tea, just the common sort that you end up with when you boil up your electric kettle, tip the water onto the teabag in your mug and let it stew. And add the milk after it's brewed, obviously. It was things like that I was missing.
I sat down on the bed, and Dr Fraiser sat down next to me.
"I know you've been having problems settling in," she said.
"You could say that," I mumbled, trying to sound hard done by, though not too hard done by that I made her feel she wasn't helping.
"I'm sure we could get Dr Jackson to pass on some work to you, there's plenty that has to be done."
She looked up at me. She's incredibly small. I'm not talking a couple of centimetres tall or anything, that'd be silly, but she really is small. She had a pleading sort of look in her eyes, like she knew she was failing in her attempts to heal my fragile mental state. I wanted to believe that things could get better, but I couldn't see how. I knew there was no way that Dr Jackson would ever pass on anything other than extremely boring menial archaeology tasks. He'd probably make me mark all the pottery they'd recovered. I hated doing that. Sitting there with a black pen marking codes onto little fragments. It was okay if you knew it was only part of the process and you'd get to analyse the data, but I got the feeling that he'd make me do it for days.
I tried to smile to make her feel better. She looked away, unable to hold my gaze. Perhaps she knew that what she was saying wasn't true.
"Thanks for the sandwiches," I said as she got up to leave.
"No problem, if there's anything else I can do, just call me." It sounded like a command rather than an offer.
"Okay," I replied as she gently closed the door.
And so I was alone once more, but this time I was alone with a delicious sandwich. Yum.
Although the sandwiches had cheered me up, I still felt terrible. My eyeballs seemed to be radiating heat, and they felt like someone had removed them and rolled them around in sawdust. Then there was the oppressive headache and the inability to walk in a straight line. Things could be worse though - mustn't grumble...
I was bored. Opening the door, I stepped out into the corridor. Something had to be going on somewhere in the base. I roamed around somewhat aimlessly before finding myself outside the locker rooms. I could hear that a team was getting cleaned up after a mission, so out of curiosity I listened for a moment.
Chapter 2
"Sir, you should get that cut seen to," said Major Carter.
"Yeah, I will. If Janet's not fussing over that weirdo Dante."
O'Neill had nicknamed me Dante, and it had stuck. Since it had been confusing with there being two Daniel Jacksons, I didn't really mind. I suppose he had meant Dante to have hellish connotations. Some of the things he thought might not be spot on, but I HAD been through hell and back.
"She HAS been spending a lot of time with him lately," replied Carter.
"She's just worried about his health," said Jackson.
"Right, his health," replied O'Neill suggestively.
"There's nothing going on between Janet and... and that man!" snapped Carter.
"I guess you should know," said Jackson.
"Why do we have to talk about him anyway? He gives me the creeps," said Carter.
I knew what she meant. Once you'd been a host you could sense any trace of a Goa'uld. Whenever I was near Carter I got a really weird tingling sensation. It was like the "Highlander" thing, except she wasn't out to take my head. But I got the feeling it wasn't just that that made me creepy. I hadn't thought I was capable of being creepy - apparently recent events had changed me more than I realised.
"If anyone has reason to want him off this airbase it's me," said Jackson.
"Here we go again..." sighed O'Neill.
"He stole my life! He was using my name to get work!"
"And look where that got him," replied O'Neill.
"I do not understand why you all feel this way about Dante," said Teal'c.
Teal'c's calm voice made the others realise for a moment how childish they were being. It was unprofessional to let likes and dislikes get in the way of things. I wasn't exactly happy to be stuck in the SGC, but in the beginning I'd been eager to help with things. There was so much archaeological work that could be done working out pottery typologies and so on. But Jackson didn't seem to care. He certainly didn't want me to help out. He was caught up in personal quests, he had his route all mapped out, and he didn't want any complications. He was being handed enough surprises without me getting in the way.
"Teal'c, he's YOUR friend, I'm sure he's a LOT of fun," said O'Neill, sarcastically.
I didn't want to get caught when they came out, and I felt uncomfortable eavesdropping, so I slipped back to my room. Teal'c had been a godsend during the past weeks. He'd been the only one willing to give me a chance. He knew that not only was I having to go through a lot of mental stress, and physical problems, but I was alone in a strange land. I'm not saying America is totally alien to an Englishman, but an Englishman's home is his castle, and the SGC wasn't a castle. What I mean is that I was trapped inside the SGC. I couldn't leave. And the SGC was truly alien. I'd never had any inclinations towards being in the army or the airforce, and I'd certainly never fired a gun. I didn't want to, either. This extraordinarily orderly world I'd found myself in wasn't for me. I wanted to go home. Teal'c had been through the same thing when he came to Earth. He'd been all alone and had had to cope with distrust from every angle.
Chapter 3
Sitting in my room pondering the opinions of SG-1, I felt more depressed than ever. I leapt up when there was a knock on the door, and opening it, peered through into the corridor. It was Teal'c. He was standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, a grim expression on his face. His eyes met mine, and he raised an eyebrow. Hurriedly I opened the door properly.
"Good evening," I said.
"It is not the evening, Dante," corrected Teal'c.
I grinned. He wasn't being pedantic, he just didn't understand the need for saying anything other than the plain truth. He was right: it wasn't the evening. I just always said, "good evening" as it saved me looking to see what the time actually was.
"Do you want to come in?" I asked, standing away from the door.
"I came to enquire whether you would like to accompany me," he said.
"Accompany you?"
"I have decided to leave the base."
"Leave the base?"
"I have nothing to do this afternoon."
Part of me longed to go outside. I missed the feel of the breeze against my skin, the sun beating down, warming my body. Part of me was terrified. The last time I had been outside I hadn't exactly been in control of my senses. Teal'c seemed to sense that I was in two minds about it.
"Dr Fraiser tells me that fresh air will do you good," he added.
I thought about it. Presumably they thought there wasn't much danger of me being apprehended. The murder had been a while ago, and plenty of them took place every day in the USA. Admittedly they weren't as bizarre, but they all involved live people becoming dead people. And Nevada was a long way away from Colorado. And it wouldn't be for very long. And Teal'c probably didn't go to places which were particularly busy.
"Yeah, she's probably right," I muttered.
I picked up a shirt to wear over my T-shirt, and we left the base. For the first time I was able to appreciate the scenery. Colorado was very mountainous. The scenery was amazing. The driver Teal'c had acquisitioned drove us around, and I gazed out of the open car window. It was a great way to spend an afternoon. Teal'c sat next to me in the back of the car, bolt upright, completely silent. He might not have said anything, but I think he was glad I was enjoying myself.
After a while we stopped at a roadside café. I was hungry. Ravenous, even. Teal'c arranged for the driver to come back in a while, and we went in to have some food. Teal'c seemed to have a good grasp of what was on offer. I wondered if he often spent his time off cruising round Colorado and eating in little food places. The waitress stood there, pad in hand, as I tried to decide what to have. I was completely hopeless at decisions. Finally I made up my mind.
"Steak and chips, please," I said, looking up at her.
"Steak and... chips," she repeated, scribbling down the order.
A while later she returned, with a steak and some, well, chips. They just weren't the sort of chips I was expecting. I meant the things that were invented in Belgium, the lengths of fried potato. What I had on my plate were crisps. I wasn't going to complain though - it takes something absolutely appalling to make an Englishman complain! I smiled at the waitress as she put the plate down in front of me, and started to eat the meal. Teal'c looked at me strangely. I raised my eyebrows at him.
"I wasn't expecting this," I explained between mouthfuls, "chips are something different where I come from".
"I too have had problems such as this," he replied.
Somehow I had trouble believing that.
"You know, I really can't understand why you want to spend your time with me. I know I'm terrible company."
"I find you very interesting, Dante," he said, whilst carefully dissecting his food.
"Interesting. I suppose that's a compliment," I said, letting a smile play across my lips.
"It is," replied Teal'c.
We spent the rest of the meal in a comfortable silence. You only get comfortable silences when two people are good friends, otherwise you get those awkward silences that nobody enjoys.
Teal'c insisted that we have ice cream for dessert, then we went outside. It was hot, but the breeze kept it from being unpleasant. We sat and watched the world go by. After a while a car pulled up. A man got out and walked over.
"I'm supposed to drive you back to the base," he said.
"I did not call for you," said Teal'c.
"There's an emergency, you have to come back now," he insisted.
Teal'c stood up, and looked down at me. Annoyed, I stood up and stretched.
"Well, we'd better go back then," I said.
"I do not believe you are from the airbase," said Teal'c.
"That's really subtle, Teal'c," I muttered under my breath.
"Come back with us, now!" said the man, reaching inside his jacket.
That was when I felt something hit my leg. Bending down, I pulled it out of my trousers. It was a dart. I looked at the dart, then at Teal'c, then things started to go a bit pear shaped. The world turned into one big blur which span in an annoying manner. I staggered towards the man who'd acted as decoy - I managed to grab hold of him. Then everything went black.
Chapter 4
I opened my eyes. Everything was in soft focus.
"Hey," said a woman as she bent over me.
"Hello," I said.
Her hair was tied back, and she was wearing a white coat. She appeared to be a doctor, and the room I was in seemed to be part of a hospital. It smelled of disinfectant the way that only hospitals can.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Okay," I said. "Where's Teal'c?"
She put her hand on my forehead. Her hand was cool against my hot skin. As my senses returned I felt increasingly uncomfortable. I seemed to be on a hospital trolley. The metal sides were up, and my wrists were tied to them.
"You know what they say?" she asked.
"What?"
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"Yeah," I said, "but I'm not a cat."
I tried to put a brave face on things, but something didn't feel right. Why was I restrained? Had I been rescued after those people had drugged us?
She took something out of her pocket, and raised it up to my face. It was a knife. Gently, she ran the point down the side of my face. I gazed up at her with disbelief. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way this could be happening to me.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want to know why you're with the alien, so we can decide what to do with you."
"Okay... He took me out to lunch."
She didn't look like she believed me. Taking the knife she started to drag the blade up my arm, scoring a red line into my skin. Instinctively I tried to move my arm away, but all I managed to do was move the restraint a little way up the metal bar. The restraint cut into me, causing the skin to turn white with the pressure.
"Why are you with him? Why did you send the driver away?"
She was getting agitated, though probably not half as agitated as I was.
"He took me out for lunch!" I shouted.
The blood was trickling down my arm. It hurt, but what was more annoying was the fact I couldn't move that arm. I wanted to do something to stop the blood, I wanted to hold the arm to my body, but I couldn't. I had no option but to lie there as the blood collected into little rivulets and spilled onto the bed and floor.
"What did you discuss?" she asked, forcing herself to be calm.
"We discussed the fact that I had steak and potato chips for lunch," I said.
I knew I sounded like I was hiding something, but what was I supposed to do? She took the knife to my other arm, and pressed the point into a spot just above my wrist.
"Is that your final answer?" she said, with disbelief.
"Yes. It was crunchy," I said.
She bent low over my face. I could feel her hot breath. Her eyes bored into mine. She watched me intently as she dragged the blade up my other arm. I stared at her, my eyes full of hate. She smiled. Then someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," she said, looking up from her work.
A man came in, carrying some pieces of paper that he thrust towards her.
"We know who he is, ma'am."
She took the papers, and scanned through the text.
"Excellent," she said, "we can hand him over and no-one will miss him. No loose ends, no messy unexplained deaths."
Chapter 5
I didn't worry about what they were going to do with me. I've always been able to work myself into a terrible state when I know vaguely what's in store. It's like going to the dentist's. When you're sitting in the waiting room you know you have to see the dentist, but you don't know what they're going to do. It's the small piece of uncertainty in the overall picture that causes me problems. When I have absolutely no idea what's in store, I never panic. Somehow I'm past the worry threshold. I can't possibly know what's going to happen, so it seems pointless to worry about it. As I lay there, being stitched up with no anaesthetic, all I could bring myself to worry about was what they'd done with Teal'c.
"Excuse me," I called, trying to prevent the woman leaving.
"What?" she said, turning back to me.
"What are you going to do with Teal'c?" I asked.
"Why should I tell you that?"
I had to think fast. I didn't for one moment suppose that this was like a Bond film. I couldn't expect her to just tell me everything. I needed to play on her weaknesses.
"Why don't we play a game?" I suggested.
"What sort of a game?"
I could see that her curiosity had been aroused.
"How about I ask you questions and for every question you get to keep a tally?"
"A tally?" she asked.
"With the knife."
I'd tried to keep my voice unemotional as I suggested it: part of me was hoping she'd turn me down. But she seemed to like hurting people.
"Okay," she said, fingering the tip of the knife. "But I can only answer with yes and no."
She jumped up onto the trolley. As she knelt with one leg either side of my body, I realised more than ever that I was entirely at her mercy. One false move and she could cut my throat, or something even worse. Slowly she cut my T-shirt from the neck downwards, leaving my chest bare.
"Is Teal'c okay?"
"Yes," she said, scoring a line into my skin.
"Does someone want him for research?"
"Yes," she said, scoring another line immediately to the right of the first.
"Are they in the armed forces?"
"No." The third line was neatly scored into my flesh.
"Are they connected with the government?"
"Yes," she said, starting the fourth line.
"Are you flying him out from the hospital?"
"Yes."
Slowly she dragged the knife across my chest from left to right, crossing the other four lines. The blade tugged at the already broken skin, pulling it away, making the cuts wider. She smiled at my discomfort. And then she stopped, but the pain carried on.
I was wheeled off into another part of the hospital, and left alone for a while. Then some policemen came in. They had guns. Policemen don't carry guns in England. We have armed response units, but since hardly any crimes involve guns, the policemen don't carry them. Seeing policemen with guns scared me. Maybe not as much as a psycho doctor with a knife, but almost as much. Okay, so I was officially a murderer, but I was hardly in a position to hurt anyone now...
One of them undid my restraints, then they roughly pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me. My arms screamed with pain, a trickle of blood oozed from my newly stitched wounds. I was manhandled into the back of a vehicle, and driven away. Then I was manhandled out of the vehicle, and locked in a cell.
Chapter 6
After a while, someone came to see me.
"Well, someone's going to be real glad we caught up with you," he said.
I was silent. I wasn't sure what was going on anymore, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to figure it out.
"Wanted for the gruesome murder of a shop clerk, one person with a weird golden device," he said, looking at me expectantly.
"What do you want me to say?" I asked.
"Well, I can hardly expect you to say sorry. But there's solid evidence against you. That doctor who spotted you should get a medal."
"Yeah," I muttered.
Leaning against the wall nonchalantly, he took some keys out of his pocket.
"Want me to undo those handcuffs?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
As soon as my arms were released, I lifted my left arm up to my face. It was red and very sore. Dried blood had created fascinating patterns all over the place. I licked my finger and tried to rub some of it off. The man watched me.
"What we really want to know is what that device was you used on the woman," he said.
"You wouldn't believe me," I said.
"Try me."
I turned to look at him, and raised my eyebrows.
"You want the truth? You can't HANDLE the truth."
I went back to cleaning up my arm. Suddenly I realised he was there, pushing down on my shoulder.
"It's people like you who make me sick," he spat.
"You should be at the hospital rescuing my kidnapped friend, and you're here pestering me!"
"Why would anyone kidnap your friend?"
"Because he's an alien!" I shouted back at him.
There was silence. The man backed off.
"He's an alien. Right. And that device was...?"
He was backing off towards the door. He thought I was insane!
"It was an alien device used for draining minds, I admit it..."
I decided the best thing to do was to humour him. Besides, if I was crazy enough, he'd leave.
"Are you an alien too?" he asked, obviously trying to humour me.
"Of course not. But when I killed that girl I HAD been possessed by one. The same sort of alien parasite that lives inside my friend Teal'c's stomach."
I stared at him, daring him to admit he thought I was a nutter.
"I'll be back," he said, grasping for the door handle.
"Hooray," I said, sounding particularly unenthusiastic.
He gave me a scared look as he left the room. He didn't turn his back on me for a second. I could only suppose that I'd shown some of the symptoms of a truly evil psycho killer.
Chapter 7
They left me there for what seemed like hours. My arms began to ache. The throbbing pain spread throughout my body. As I lay on the bunk I could feel my pulse. Whichever way I turned, it thumped inside my head. It gave me no peace.
I got up and walked over to the door. Someone had to be out there. Someone had to be able to help me. I hammered on the door. There was no sound from outside. I hammered again.
"Oi!" I shouted.
There was no reply. Angrily I started to whack my body against the door. Again and again I battered it. I didn't expect anyone to come, but my rage kept my pounding against that door until my side started to go numb. Suddenly I was pushed back into the room as the door opened. I fell to the floor. People rushed to pin me down.
"Get off!" I shouted.
I thrashed around, trying to get them to let go. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. One of them took a syringe and injected me. Slowly, I started to drift away.
For some time I was kept in a semiconscious state. They were scared I would hurt myself, or them, or both. While I was in that realm, I became aware that I knew things I shouldn't have known. I'd done things I'd never done.
Most of the things I remembered were from a time the archaeologist in me knew very well: the time of the Roman Empire. Rome is seen as a great civilisation, but it was created and maintained with cruelty and violence, with barbaric acts. You don't tend to think of that side of things when you're dealing with harmless artefacts.
In my left hand I was holding a nail: one of the iron nails made by the Roman army wherever they went. In my other hand I was holding a mallet. I was supervising something that took skill, so I was going to do the last part myself. Besides, I enjoyed it. At my feet lay a man, tied to a piece of wood. It wasn't necessary to use nails to secure their arms, but I liked to. Their faces when you hammered the nails into their wrists and feet were always so interesting to watch.
I placed the nail between the bones of the man's wrist and started to hammer. If I hit a vein then he would die too quickly, which is where the skill came in. His body contorted in agony, each successive hammer blow sending waves of pain through his body. Then I hammered nails through the sides of his heels, firmly attaching him to the timber. These nails were the important ones - the ones that he would need to support himself.
Then we raised the structure so that he was upright, and lowered the beam into a slot in the ground. We weren't gentle, and every jolt caused him terrible pain. Once he was vertical he had no choice but to push up from his damaged heels. Once he gave in and relaxed his legs, he wouldn't be able to breathe, and he would die. All that man had to look forward to was a long and painful death, caused by a mixture of asphyxiation, shock, hunger and thirst. If he took too long to die - if we got bored - we would break his legs, causing almost instant suffocation.
The worst punishment ever devised, and I'd taken pleasure in it. It all seemed so real - I must have done it. Perhaps I'd killed hundreds of people, but I'd forgotten. I was a monster! The more time I spent alone, drugged up to the eyeballs, the more horrible memories came back to haunt me. How I'd managed to repress these memories for so long I didn't know. Whatever they decided to do to me, I deserved my fate.
I was unaware of the passing of time; I was stuck in my own personal nightmare. The more I tried to think happy thoughts, the more I sank into depression. I could barely move - my brain felt fuzzy and indistinct, my limbs were heavy as lead. I sat and stared at the wall, my eyes focussing on something that wasn't there. When the door opened, I paid no attention.
"How long has he BEEN like this?" said Carter.
"Um, not long," said the guard, scratching his head. "He was violent, we had no option but to sedate him."
"He's a vegetable," stated O'Neill.
Carter knelt down in front of me. She was blurry. I didn't even try to focus on her - there didn't seem to be any point. She waved her hand in front of my face.
"He really is out of it, Sir," she said.
"We're going to have to take him with us," said O'Neill, turning to the guard.
"Well, I don't know if I can let you do that," said the guard, becoming increasingly anxious, "he IS wanted for murder."
"He's the property of the Air Force, and I'm holding you personally responsible for his present condition," insinuated O'Neill.
"Property?" asked the increasingly confused guard.
"Oh for crying out loud," sighed O'Neill, "he's part of a top-secret experiment to produce the perfect killing machine. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"
"You mean...?"
"Yeah, he went AWOL and we have to take him back to be... deprogrammed."
The guard fidgeted, unsure of what to do. O'Neill walked over to Carter, and together they lifted me, holding me underneath my arms and dragging me along. I would have tried to walk, but I was only vaguely aware of what was going on. I wasn't completely sure that the floor even existed.
Chapter 8
As the drugs wore off things didn't get much better. I was left more and more with the conviction that I was a mass murderer. I tried to rationalise, to prove to myself that I couldn't possibly have been responsible, but it all seemed so real. It was just as real, and a lot more vivid, than the memories I had of being an archaeologist. I had always been of the opinion that my memory was useless, that I could hardly remember any events further back in my life than a few years ago. If I had only been pretending, if I had been hiding from my true memories, perhaps that would explain everything.
"Dante, wakey wakey..." sang O'Neill.
I opened my eyes, and stared at him with what must have been hatred. He backed away, retreating to a distance at which he felt more comfortable.
"Hey, nice to see you," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Don't suppose you remember where you left Teal'c?"
I was overwhelmed by pain and sorrow. Teal'c, yes, what had happened to Teal'c? I remembered something, but it seemed so long ago. I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
"Stick with me, Dante," he ordered, "if this is your idea of punishing me, you've made your point."
I heard his words, but I couldn't answer. I wasn't sure what was real. Was he part of a nightmare? Was he real? The door opened, and Dr Fraiser came in.
"Things don't look good, Colonel," she said, looking up from the clipboard she was carrying.
She saw I was awake, and she rushed over to my bedside. She shone a penlight into my eyes. It was too bright, but I continued staring.
"Anything you see now isn't a result of the drugs," she said.
"But he's going to get more coherent, right?" O'Neill asked hopefully.
"I can't promise anything. From what I can gather, he became extremely violent when he was arrested, and they were forced to sedate him. I'm wondering what made him become violent."
"A fairly obvious thing would be being locked up, wouldn't it?"
"Maybe. He also has these cuts on both his arms," said Dr Fraiser, lifting one of my forearms, "and his chest".
"Ouch," said O'Neill.
"Exactly. I think it's fairly safe to assume that the arresting officers didn't do that."
"Fairly," said O'Neill, nodding.
"His present mental confusion and inability to communicate, well, I can't explain it," she admitted.
"Trauma?"
"It's not enough. I wonder whether it's something to do with his... accident. We knew he was unlikely to survive long - perhaps rough handling or the drugs caused the deterioration to start in earnest," she said, sadly.
She put her hand on my forehead. Suddenly I remembered some things that didn't seem so bad. I remembered laughter, a smile, a kind word. A sandwich.
"Ita mi di ament," I muttered.
Dr Fraiser and O'Neill looked at each other. O'Neill raised his eyebrows, and they bent closer to hear what I was saying.
"Dante, everything's going to be alright," said Dr Fraiser comfortingly.
"Ita mi di ament..." I repeated.
O'Neill and Dr Fraiser straightened up.
"What did he say?" asked O'Neill.
"I don't know. I think we should get Dr Jackson in here," said Dr Fraiser.
"Good idea," said O'Neill.
It didn't take long for Jackson to arrive. Carter had come with him, interested to see what was happening now I was awake. Jackson looked sullen, like he didn't want to get involved. But he DID want to find Teal'c, so he had to put up with me.
"So help me God," said Jackson, "he's speaking in Latin."
"Latin?" said O'Neill.
"Yeah," said Jackson, adjusting his glasses.
"Great," muttered O'Neill.
"Medicus...?" I asked.
"Doctor," said Jackson, "I think he wants you, Dr Fraiser."
"Ya think?" muttered O'Neill.
"Bene facis," I said as she looked down at me.
"Erm, he's thanking you," said Jackson.
She took my hand, and looked down at me, an expression of concern plastered across her face.
"Okay," said O'Neill, "perhaps I missed something, but why's he speaking IN LATIN?"
"Well, I don't want to sound paranoid or anything, but are we sure there's no Goa'uld left in him?" asked Jackson.
"No, that's not possible," said Dr Fraiser.
"Apart from his memories," said Carter, suddenly realising what might be going on.
"You mean...?" started Dr Fraiser.
"Yeah, the sedation somehow forced his Goa'uld memories to the surface, overwhelming or at least being confused with his human memories!"
She sounded excited. She cared about me as much as she cared for anyone she met in her travels, but she was more interested in the aspects of the Goa'uld/host relationship that my problems highlighted.
"Is there any way to unconfuse him?" asked O'Neill.
"I don't think conventional methods would work," said Dr Fraiser, "the inherited memories are a part of him, they are real, however much he wants to deny them."
There was silence as they all tried to work out what to do with me.
"Valetudinarium," I whispered.
"Daniel?" prompted O'Neill.
"What? Oh, hospital."
"Hospital?" questioned O'Neill. "There's no point sending you to a hospital, the good doctor has everything under control."
I felt my eyelids drifting shut. Every time I tried to keep them open, I failed. I decided it'd be just as easy to listen to everyone with my eyes shut. As soon as I shut my eyes, I fell fast asleep.
Chapter 9
I awoke to find myself lying on my back in a room I didn't recognise.
"We don't have any choice, Janet," said a voice I recognised as Carter's.
"It's the last thing he'd ever want, we all know that, but it's the only way we're going to find Teal'c," said Jackson.
"We don't know that, I think we should run some more tests," said Dr Fraiser.
"Tests? The more time we waste the less likely it is we'll find Teal'c. You know that, I know that. Besides, you said this is the only way he'll be able to have a decent quality of life," argued O'Neill.
"General Hammond gave you the okay for this, he agrees that it's the only viable option. But..." Dr Fraiser trailed off.
Carter put her hand on Dr Fraiser's shoulder.
"I know, Janet, if there was any other way..." she said.
They manhandled me onto my left side, so that I was facing into the room. O'Neill made eye contact with me for a moment, and gave me a nervous smile. I watched the door, wondering what was going on. I was horrified to see someone I recognised as a Tok'ra enter the room. He was carrying a larva in some sort of glorified fish tank. I tried to say something, I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Carter saw the expression of horror on my face and turned away guiltily.
"Are you sure he's a willing host?" asked the man.
"If we don't do this, he'll be a vegetable for the rest of his life, and it's likely that we'll never see Teal'c again," said O'Neill. "You want to help Teal'c, don't you Dante?"
"Quam maxime," I managed to whisper. I wanted to say more.
"As much as possible," translated Jackson.
"But he's terrified! If he's not willing, we can't do this," said the man.
"Look, just do it. We're running out of time here," snapped O'Neill.
The man resignedly walked over to where I was lying. He lifted the larva out of the liquid, and laid it next to my head on the pillow. It glistened, and twitched. It writhed. I hated it, I didn't want to go through this again. The larva moved onto my lips, and worked its way into my mouth. I gagged as its strange taste antagonised my tastebuds. I wanted to do something, but I couldn't move. As if I didn't have enough problems, I was frozen in terror. Soon it was inside me, cold and alien. I felt it perforate the back of my throat and it hurt. Not as much as the Goa'uld had hurt, but it brought back terrible memories. But they were MY memories. I remembered the pain and torture I'd suffered at the mercy of Seth's servant, and I knew that I was separate from the alien. None of that had been me! As I realised this, I began to relax.
A few moments later I was once again aware that I wasn't alone, and I wasn't confused.
"It has worked," I heard myself say, "I thank you. My name is Sarrazan."
Sarrazan was disgustingly charming, though I wasn't sure that his words would have the same effect coming from my body. For a moment I felt, well, claustrophobic. I panicked, and fought for control of my body. To my surprise the Tok'ra gave in straight away.
"What did you do!" I screamed at them.
They looked at me guiltily. Dr Fraiser refused to make eye contact with me: she mournfully stared at her shoes. I walked over to her, and took her hand in mine.
"It's okay, Doctor, I just..." I stroked the top of her hand with my thumb.
"I know, it was the last thing you ever wanted!" she said, close to tears.
I'd never seen her like this, and from the looks on the others' faces, they hadn't either.
"We're supposed to confront our deepest fears, aren't we?" I said trying to comfort her.
I wanted to do more. I felt like I needed a hug, and she looked like she did too, but I was too scared to do more than pathetically squeeze her hand. Then, to my surprise, she hugged me. She wrapped her arms around me, her head reaching no higher than my chest. I didn't know what to do. Slowly, I put my arms around her, and gently patted her shoulderblade. After a moment, she drew away, and hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes. She smiled at me nervously, and I smiled back.
"I'm sorry to interrupt this lovely moment," said O'Neill, "but we should really try and track down Teal'c?"
"Like I said earlier," I said, trying to be patient, "he's at the hospital. Or at least, he was."
"And why would he be there?"
"Look," I snapped, "I know you don't like me, but I'm fed up with all this antagonism! I didn't ask to be here, but I was willing to make an effort. I'm getting annoyed by your constant efforts to keep me alive, but I could live with it if you were all a bit nicer!"
They stared at me, shocked by my sudden outburst.
"I want to help find Teal'c, trust me, he's one of the only people from this base I would be inclined to try and find. If you all want to argue with me while his body's being dissected, then fine!"
That's the point where I should storm up the stairs and into my bedroom, if such a thing was possible.
"Someone ordered his body for research purposes?" asked Carter.
"It looks that way," I said.
"Well, we'd better get to the hospital," said O'Neill.
"I'm coming with you," I said, "you need me".
O'Neill looked at me, weighing up the pros and cons.
"This has nothing to do with you personally, Dante, I just think it'd be better if you stayed here. You've been through a lot, and..."
"If I come, we can find the woman in charge of it. She'll recognise me," I argued.
"I know, but you need to take it easy for a while," O'Neill said.
I thought for a moment, then I had an idea. I relaxed.
"What if I came with you?" asked Sarrazan.
"Sarrazan?" enquired Jackson.
"I understand Dante's insistence that he go, I agree with him. I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, but your chances of success without him are... slim."
O'Neill's body language suggested that he'd given in.
"Fine," he said. "You'd better put some decent clothes on then."
O'Neill was right, I did need a rest. But with Sarrazan looking after my body, I could rest and let him do all the work. An experience that had seemed so terrible and confining before now seemed extremely beneficial. I knew I could trust him not to hurt me. I was a little hurt that they had accepted Sarrazan so quickly when they'd fought against Dante for so long, but it didn't bother me as much as you might have thought.
Chapter 10
The remaining members of SG-1 and I arrived at the hospital and were caught up in the chaos that always surrounds such places. They must have had records for me, otherwise handing me over to the police would have been problematic. The records wouldn't be true, but they'd be a start.
"Hey!" shouted O'Neill, trying to get the clerk's attention.
"Can I help you?" asked a somewhat stressed looking woman.
"Yeah. My friend here was brought in earlier and we'd like a word with the person who saw him?"
"I'm sorry, Mr...?" she asked me.
"Well, he was brought in with another guy under heavy sedation, and taken away by the cops," said O'Neill.
"Oh," said the clerk.
"Don't worry, he's not dangerous," said Jackson.
O'Neill turned to him and gave him a look that clearly said 'that was subtle'.
"Of course not," she replied, trying to find the button that would call security.
O'Neill realised what she was about to do, and grabbed her wrist.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said. "We just want a word with her. Is that too much to ask? Call her, tell her we're here about the alien."
He let go of her wrist, and she looked at him nervously. Hurriedly she picked up the receiver and dialled an internal number. A few words later, she gave us the all clear to go and see the woman who'd dealt with me. She would have done anything to get us out of her sight!
As we walked further into the hospital, the corridors became more and more deserted. Even though Carter, O'Neill and Jackson weren't wearing their SGC uniforms, you could tell they were military. After working with the Air Force for so long, even Jackson had picked up the warily urgent way of moving that the two professionals had adopted in this strange environment. Eventually we came to some swing doors.
"This is it," said O'Neill.
He looked round at us, checking that we were ready for whatever was in store for us. The he opened the door. As I walked into the room, I realised that we were surrounded. Two men had cut off the exit, and two others were next to the woman, guns trained on us.
"There's no need for this, we just want to talk," said O'Neill.
"Talk, then. What do you want?" said the woman.
She looked closely at each of us. When she saw me, her eyes narrowed.
"You!" she spat. "I thought we'd seen the last of you."
"I often have that same thought myself," I replied.
Sarrazan let me speak, seemingly understanding the way I felt about the situation. I tried to look threatening.
"Where's Teal'c?" I asked.
"He's here," she admitted, "but he's not allowed visitors."
I had no idea how anyone could be THAT sinister all the time. She must have spent many long hours in front of a mirror in order to perfect her sinister glares. I took a step forward, and she raised her gun.
"I'm going to have to kill you all anyway, so I WILL shoot if you come any closer," she said.
I took another step, and she shot me in the thigh. I felt the searing pain, and my leg went weak. I stumbled, but then I felt something fortifying: strength seeping through my body. I took another step. She shot again, this time a bullet became embedded in my shoulder. Again, I felt pain, but I could carry on. I saw through a haze, I knew I should be on the floor in agony, but something kept me going. One more step and the gun was pointing at my chest. I knew that whatever Sarrazan was doing to control the pain, a bullet through a vital internal organ was likely to be terminal.
The room was silent. Carter, O'Neill and Jackson couldn't believe what they were seeing. They'd thought I was incapable of bravery. They probably thought I'd gone over the edge into madness, and in a way I had. I wanted to kill that woman, for what she'd done to me, for what she wanted to do to Teal'c.
I felt the barrel of the gun against my chest, and the woman smiled at me. I growled at her. The men in the room were temporarily distracted by the bizarre showdown, their minds not entirely on the matter in hand. Carter took advantage of their distraction and lunged for the nearest man's gun. O'Neill reached for his Zat gun and shot one of the other men. A little slower to react, Jackson soon joined in. I was hardly aware of the fighting.
I slammed my hand against the woman's throat, pinning her to the wall. She dropped her gun, struggling to breathe as I applied pressure to her neck. She tried to talk, tried to make me stop, but I didn't want to. I was fed up with being pushed around, with trying to make people happy. I wanted to kill her.
Sarrazan tried to make me stop, he tried to take me over, but I fought him. There was no way he was going to make me let this woman go. Suddenly I was aware that the fighting was over, and I was being watched. Embarrassed, I let the woman go. Her body fell to the floor, and she gasped for breath.
I stepped back, and O'Neill walked over and knelt by the woman's side.
"Where's Teal'c?" he asked.
She tried to speak, but couldn't. She coughed. Raising her finger, she pointed to a second set of doors leading into another room. A room that contained Teal'c.
Madness Trilogy 2: Waiting for the Host's Pain
By: Fiery Fred
Something has survived!!!
Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Words: 10,756 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 10/27/2000 - id: 99559
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Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten
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