Disclaimer: This story is for entertainment purposes only, no money exchanged hands. Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.

Author's note: This story was originally published online in 2002. It is set in Season 2 and is a tag scene for the Episode "Need"

Daniel Jackson was idly playing with an appetizer skewer, looking at it with slightly blood-shot eyes and concentrating for all he was worth. 'When did sticking a piece of fruit with one of these toothpick-thingys become so hard?' He snorted lightly to himself in response. He was beginning to sound like Jack... he had said "toothpick-thingys"...said or thought?... it was beginning to get confusing. Maybe he should have taken a nap earlier, that was probably it, not enough sleep. He opened his eyes very wide hoping that would help his focus. It didn't.

They were all over at the General's for his annual end-of-the-summer barbecue. All of SG-1 and most of the SGC had shown up. Daniel, still being on medical restriction since P3R636, had not felt much like socializing so he had grabbed something to eat and had found a semi-quiet corner to hide in. He would have just skipped the party altogether but the General had made it clear that this was a command performance, so here he was...

Now an hour or so later, he felt more than a bit depressed. He felt downright numb. He was sitting there playing with the fruit when a large shadow fell across his lap. Daniel looked up and into the face of his friend, team leader, and sometimes protector Jack O'Neill.

'Oh, damn!' thought Daniel. He really didn't want to face anyone right now... especially not any of the rest of SG-1. How could they even stand to be in the same room with him? He had let them down so badly. He remembered what he had been like when they first returned... so proud of himself, so cocky, so sure he'd saved the day... so high. Internally Daniel let out a little sigh. Yeah, some saving, he had almost gotten them all killed, not to mention the job he did on himself. 'Yeah, I'm really something alright... a real ass.'

Daniel gave a somewhat resigned smile and attempted at least to be friendly. Jack deserved that... Hell, he deserved much more than that, more than Daniel would be able to give.

"Hi Jack," he said focusing on the larger man.

O'Neill looked down at his teammate, not sure that he liked what he saw. He took in Daniel's slowed reactions and clumsy motions. Jack steadied himself and asked in a cautious controlled voice...

"Daniel?... Have you been drinking?" His voice carried that 'I-don't-really-want-to-believe-what-I'm-seeing,-please-tell-me-I'm-wrong' sound to it.

"No, Jack... Janet said I wasn't allowed... I haven't had even one beer," said the archeologist, his baritone voice taking on a soft child-like tone. His eyes were not tracking the movement in the surrounding yard but seemed to be taking on a life of their own.

'Uh, right' thought Jack. He began to scan the area around his friend. He didn't see any beer bottles, and yet, it was obvious that Daniel was intoxicated. What was even more confusing was that Daniel honestly believed he hadn't been drinking. His voice carried that sincerity that usually signaled that the young man believed what he was saying completely, without even a touch of doubt.

Could he be lying? O'Neill had to consider the possibility. After all, Daniel hadn't exactly been himself for the last week or so, ever since his run in with the "evil sarcophagus" and the "princess-from-hell".

Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. But for O'Neill it would be a while before he would be able to forgive the woman for what she did to them, and more importantly for what she did to Daniel.

Daniel told him that Shyla had been addicted to the sarcophagus herself, and after destroying it, had gone through withdrawal. Well good!... O'Neill hoped she'd gotten some of her own back. Although by all accounts her addiction was not nearly as severe as the archeologist's, but then again she had not used the sarcophagus as many times in a very short period of time as Daniel.

The last report from the planet had indicated that the new Shyla was a much quieter, somewhat shyer ruler, who still wanted what was best for her people... that at least had not changed.

General Hammond had sent the SGC's diplomatic core who, with the help of Daniel, secured an agreement with the lonely princess, allowing them access to some of the Naquada in exchange for modern mining equipment and help setting up an education system for her people.

Jack's eyes continued to search looking for the source of his friend's intoxication. He found nothing.

"You're drunk, Daniel," he said in frustration, frowning down at the man.

"I'm not!... I haven't been drinking," replied an indignant soft voice, this time obviously upset at not being believed.

"Well you are!... I'm not sure how, but..." O'Neill continued, about to suggest they go find Doc Fraiser... thinking that perhaps this was just another unforeseen side-effect of the addiction. But then he saw it, the bowl in Daniel's hands. There was piece of muskmelon and a slice of cantaloupe still left in it, and what looked like the remains of a large section of watermelon. The scientist was still trying to stab one of the last pieces of fruit with the appetizer skewer. He was missing.

"Daniel?..." O'Neill said in that soft suspicious tone of his, "... Where did you get the fruit?"

"I was hungry."

"I know Daniel... WHERE did you get it?" the Colonel's voice was still soft but had become more insistent now. He had a suspicion and if it turned out to be true someone was going to pay.

"On the table... with the rest of the food... Feretti gave it to me," Daniel's voice had taken on a slightly whiney, hurt tone, that suggested he wasn't sure what he had done wrong now.

"Feretti!" the Colonel said the name like it was a curse.

"It's just fruit, Jack," came the soft confused reply.

The Colonel picked up a piece of Daniel's remaining fruit and sniffed it. He didn't smell anything but... The Colonel looked around the surrounding area, spotting Feretti about halfway across the yard. Jack squatted down in front of Daniel so that the archeologist could see him better.

"Daniel... You stay right here... DON'T GO ANYWHERE... I need to go talk to someone for a moment."

"Okay, Jack," mumbled the younger man, relieved to be left alone again. He began to play with the last piece of fruit. Jack patted him on the shoulder and then rose to his feet.

'Yeah, right'... O'Neill looked down at his friend and gave a grimace. He doubted that Daniel would even remember the conversation let alone being told to stay put. Daniel was always an easy drunk even when totally healthy, and right now he looked at least 3/4 of the way to passing out.

The Colonel moved over closer to the talking and laughing crowd, his intended victim clear in his sights. He stepped up to the side of Major Feretti and with his best Colonel voice said...

"Feretti!" His voice conveying the message that the Major's ass was in so much trouble he would have to dig for a whole hour just to see daylight.

"Colonel?" came a confused response.

"DID YOU or DID YOU NOT, give Daniel spiked fruit!"

Feretti looked surprised for a moment before a small smirk graced his face.

"Come on Colonel... It was a harmless..."

"Daniel is on medical restriction from alcohol..." O'Neill continued, his voice no less hard. Feretti took the smirk off his face when he saw the Colonel had not relaxed any.

"The Doc thinks it might be dangerous for him right now... His body is still suffering from the aftereffects of that damn sarcophagus!"

"I'm sorry, Colonel... I didn't know," Feretti voice had taken on a guilty, contrite quality.

"Well now you do!... Now get over there and take care of him while I find Fraiser." Jack finished in the same unforgiving tone... 'and you better pray that he's okay.'

*** to be continued ***