Chapter 9
The rain had followed him all the way up the coast. Daniel shivered as he stood at the end of the lane. He wished he could run after the small bus that had dropped him off. He didn't have a cell phone, wasn't sure if he'd have reception even if he did. And now that he'd made it to Paul's, he wasn't sure he'd be welcomed despite what Paul had said. He swayed a little and tightened his grip on his crutches. Paul wouldn't be expecting him-surely Paul had said the words only to be polite. Besides that lane looked long-too long for him to make it on crutches when he was feeling suddenly dizzy.
A station wagon pulled up to the mailbox on the other side of the lane while Daniel was still figuring out how to make it somewhere where he could flag down a bus.
"May I help you?"
The man who called out the open car window wore a friendly but curious expression. His accent was most definitely that of a native New Englander.
"I..." Daniel shook his head which he immediately regretted. "I was just..."
"Oh my God. I should have known. You're Daniel." He got out of the car and walked towards Daniel. "I'm Thom-Thomas Reilly." When Daniel just stared at him, he continued. "Paul's husband. Paul's going to kill me if I let you stand out here in the rain any longer." He opened the passenger door and gestured for Daniel to get in. "Please. You don't want to try to make it down the lane. Especially not in this weather. It's a mile and a half to the house. Paul said you might come for a visit. He's going to be so happy you're here."
"I..." Daniel felt his head start to pound nearly as hard as his heart. "I don't want to be any trouble. I didn't call or anything."
Thom made a rude noise and gestured again, this time as thunder boomed distantly.
Daniel took a deep breath and got in the car, his crutches held awkwardly.
"Would you like me to put them in the back?" Thom didn't reach, didn't push.
"Yes. Thank you." He handed them to Thom who smiled at him.
For all the talking Thom had done earlier, he was silent for the drive to the house. He was nothing like Daniel had pictured. He was dressed in baggy, cut-off jeans, a tie-dyed Tshirt that proclaimed Pickled Herring which Daniel thought might be the name of a bar, and a pair of paint-smattered sneakers. His hair was a curly dark auburn, his eyes a deep brown and he was a few inches shorter than Daniel.
"Here it is," Thom said as he pulled around a circular drive.
The house that Paul had called a summer cottage was two stories high although it didn't appear overly large. A porch wrapped around the entire house, screened in on the two sides. There was a garage but Thom didn't pull into it-there wouldn't have been room. Boards, paint cans, and other supplies covered the floor of most of it.
Thom laughed as he caught Daniel's eye. "We're, uh, renovating. At least that's what Paul optimistically calls it."
Daniel nodded and smiled because he felt it was the polite thing to do.
"There are some steps," Thom said as he brought Daniel's crutches from the back. "Are you able to..."
"It's fine," Daniel told him and then winced at how curt and un-grateful his reply had been. Thom had already gone to the back of the car again and busied himself with getting out bags of groceries. Daniel appreciated being left alone for a minute to pull himself together. He got out of the car and took a moment to steady himself.
"Daniel?" A familiar voice called and Daniel looked up to see Paul hurrying across the drive to them. "You're here. Thank God."
Daniel raised his eyebrows. Paul looked worried, concerned, and Daniel had no idea why.
"I just got off the phone with Jack O'Neill," Paul said, his mouth drawn into a disapproving line. "He said you'd disappeared."
"Babe," Thom said as he came back from putting the grocery bags on the porch, "It's pouring rain. I don't think this is the place to be having a conversation."
Paul gave a tight nod and stepped aside for Daniel to precede him up the few stairs on the porch.
* * * *
Paul looked at Daniel, really looked at his former lover, as he sat on the sofa in his and Thom's living room. He'd thought Daniel looked beyond weary when he'd seen him in Philadelphia, but he'd been wrong. Daniel was paler than he should be, his expression, hollow and shell-shocked. Maybe it was exhaustion-Paul wasn't sure. He was only sure he didn't like seeing Daniel this way. Daniel started to shiver, the tremors nearly imperceptible, and his eye went blank. Paul wondered if Daniel was having a seizure.
"Thom," he called urgently, relieved when Thom hurried in from the kitchen. "Get me some blankets and make some tea or something."
Thom took one look at Daniel and patted Paul's shoulder. Paul knelt before Daniel, not touching, not sure if it was safe to touch.
"Daniel?" he asked softly, but Daniel didn't answer.
Flashback, Paul thought although he couldn't be sure. His own dreams about Velera were nightmares of which he could always recall every single detail. And he'd at least had Thom to hold him for the aftermath, when he'd wept for the man he thought lost. "We're just going to sit here a bit. No hurry," Paul started to talk in a low soothing voice. "You're going to love the view from the back porch. Maybe even the views from the side porch. Thom and I will open up the other cottage, but it'll have to air out for a day or so. It was closed up all winter and spring. I think you'll like it. It has a better view of the ocean than this house." Paul noticed Thom from the corner of his eye.
"No!" he yelled as Thom bent to wrap a blanket over Daniel's shoulders. Thom's touch was electric and Daniel had Thom on the floor in an instant, his right arm tight over Thom's neck. His husband gasped for air, as he scrabbled awkwardly at Daniel's grip. It was obvious that Daniel meant to kill-it was just as obvious that Daniel was lost somewhere far from a cottage on Cape Cod. Paul got behind Daniel and wrapped his arms around Daniel's chest. He pulled, attempted to get Daniel off balance. Thom's hands hit both of them, and he felt Daniel's glasses get knocked off his face.
"Let go, c'mon, Daniel. Damn it." Nearly breathless with effort, Paul finally succeeded, or maybe Daniel was coming out of whatever it was because they fell backwards together. Daniel may have been missing a leg and thinner than Paul ever remembered, but he was still strong. Daniel shivered in his arms as Paul eased them to a sitting position.
"You okay, honey?" he asked Thom who was also sitting up.
Thom nodded and rubbed at his throat. "Fine," he said, panting. "What? I didn't mean to hurt him."
"It's okay. It's okay," Paul said, over and over-to Thom, to Daniel who perhaps needed it more. He accepted the blanket Thom handed him and wrapped it around Daniel. "Some tea?" He looked up at Thom. "Sugary."
His eyes wide, Thom nodded once more and got to his feet. He watched him go and knew exactly why he loved the man enough to marry him. Thom accepted this strange situation with no questions-with total trust in Paul.
"Shh. Shh," he whispered and stroked Daniel's hair while small tremors rocked Daniel's body. He still didn't know if Daniel was back with them. Daniel tilted his head back onto Paul's shoulder and Paul looked down at the face he thought he'd never see again. Daniel's eyes were closed-the eyepatch had been torn in Thom's struggles to free himself and the right lid sagged over the empty socket-and he was hard-breathing. "Shh." He stroked Daniel's hair back from his forehead, not sure if the heat he felt was from a fever or exertion.
Thom came back a few minutes later and handed Paul a mug. "Lots of sugar," he said.
"Thomas?" Daniel sounded confused and then looked down at the mug. "Paul? What? Why are we on the floor?"
No, no, no, no.
He slid down the bathroom door, away from Paul, away from Thom.
God, oh God. What did he just do? What just happened?
Daniel had whispered his excuses and asked for directions to the bathroom. He escaped without another word, without an apology to Thom. He lifted his hand to cover his face and stopped. The stumps, the fingers looked like a cruel mockery of a human hand, his hand. He slammed his hand down, curling what was left of his fingers on the cool tile.
He hated his hand, his leg, his eye. Glancing up, Daniel realized there was only a hole above the sink, no mirror. In a small way he was grateful. He never liked looking in the mirror, seeing the scars, the memories lurking like broken reflections. Even as he stared at the beams in the hole in the wall, the images rose up to greet him.
They called him his trainer. He smirked a little, recalling as the man entered his cell. The man shuffled into the small room, laid his case on the table and stared down at Daniel with a nearly paternal gaze. His eyes though were dead to Daniel's suffering.
"Now, shall we start your readjustment, Doctor Jackson." It was phrased as a question, but it was clearly a statement laced with a threat.
"Many have tried, none have succeeded," he managed to spit out. The rope tied around his neck tightened as he strained against his restraints. They'd tied him in a manner that reminded him of a Mafia style torture. He was kneeling, his hands tied behind him. The rope wound its way around his wrists to his ankles and up to loop in a noose around his neck. If he dared to move, if he fell over in exhaustion, the rope would snap against the stress and essentially strangle him.
The man surveyed Daniel, walking around him as if he assessed his prey. "You will call me Trainer. I have no other name to you. You will depend on me for everything. If you want to eat, if you wish to drink, if you need to piss, you can do nothing without my permission. If you fail to gain my permission, my approval of your behavior you will be punished."
He stopped in front of Daniel. "It is simple Doctor Jackson. I am sure you understand the training technique of behavior adjustment. You perform well, you will be rewarded. You perform poorly, you will be punished."
Daniel said nothing in return, as he focused on relaxing his muscles. His tendons screamed for release, his knees felt like jelly. He knew after sixteen hours of being tied he was near the end. His body shook with the stress. He had been tethered like this since they arrested him.
"Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?"
He turned his face away.
"I will give you one more chance, Doctor Jackson, since this is your first day. Trainers must be somewhat understanding to their charges during the first hours." The trainer leaned down forcing Daniel to stare into his dead eyes. "Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?"
His hand wrapped around the noose tugging it. Daniel opened his mouth, no words came out. The rope burned against his flesh, digging in, squeezing.
"Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?"
With no other opinion, Daniel nodded and the rope constricted further. The world narrowed, the pitiful light in his cell dimmed and pulsated all at the same time. He collapsed to the floor, the rope at full tension. Suddenly, he took a breath without fighting for it. His torturer stood over him, knife in hand as he freed Daniel.
As the man sawed away at the ropes, Daniel remained impassive, calm, quiet. Inwardly his heart hammered in his chest, making it difficult to hear the man discuss his readjustment plan. The last of the rope fell away and Daniel leapt at the man, struggling for his knife and seizing him by the throat. Instantly, three other men were in the cell pulling Daniel off the trainer. Auto-bots buzzed into the cell, clamping him to the floor, spread eagle.
"Get me the cuff," the trainer said.
"Sir?" One of the guards asked.
"The cuff." The trainer pointed to his bag.
The guard hesitated. "But sir, the cuff already? We usually wait on that for at least two weeks."
The Trainer glared at the guard. "Who is the expert here? Who?" He hissed. "Tell me, when did you become an expert in readjustment, Carl?" The Trainer waved to the door and several more auto-bots flew into the cell. "Perhaps, Carl, you need a readjustment of your own?"
"No, no." Carl shook his head, backing away from the hornet like robots. "I was just confused, sir." He raced over to the bag, he took out a metal ring and a slim box. "Sir, here you go, sir."
"Thank you," the trainer said. He smiled at Daniel. "I thought to start slowly, but your violent tendencies, your resistance shows me I must readjust my plan." He took the metal cuff and tripped a switch and it popped open. Slipping it around Daniel's lower thigh, the Trainer continued in a dispassionate voice, "You see, even I will readjust. I admit where I have failed or misunderstood and readjust." The cuff locked around Daniel's leg.
The trainer turned to gaze at Daniel. The auto-bots grasped Daniel's arms and secured him to the floor, he couldn't see his leg, couldn't imagine what the reason for the cuff. He tried to still his heart, tried to take deep breathes, but he only managed short pants.
Opening up the slim box, the trainer showed Daniel a syringe. The flash of lights from the auto-bots glinted off the long needle.
What the hell?
"The cuff will protect your thigh and the rest of your body from the bacteria." The Trainer smiled. "Your calf will, of course, suffer the consequences of your poor choices."
Suffer the consequences? Consequences?
Daniel laid his head back against the bathroom door in Paul's house. He didn't even remember the feeling of the injection. What amazed him was how fast the gangrene took over his leg. He shuddered. His shirt clung to him with the sweat.
He should never have come. Paul didn't need to deal with his damage, both physical and mental.
"Daniel?"
Shit.
"Daniel, are you all right?"
Daniel grabbed hold of the sink and, using it for leverage, hauled himself up. "Be right out." He cleaned up as quietly as he could and made his way back to the living room. "I'm sorry about..."
"Don't worry about it," Thom said. "I have tea. Would you like some?"
"I'm not staying."
"What?" Paul huffed. "Daniel, you're staying. Thom knows you've been through a lot."
"No, I just, I shouldn't." Daniel hung his head. Damn, he was a linguist but he couldn't even get a sentence out.
Paul gestured for Thom to get more tea. He laid a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Daniel, you have a place to stay here. We have a small cottage out back. You can stay there, if that makes you feel more comfortable. We won't bother you and you won't be a bother to us."
He said nothing, he couldn't say a word. Emotion grabbed at his throat. He shook his head. He nodded.
"Good, good."
Something released in Daniel, his arms quaked as he held his crutches. Paul ushered him to the sofa, and Daniel collapsed. He kept his face turned away, the tears coming as a baptism of salvation.
"Jack called," Paul said as he watched Daniel carefully.
"Hmm?"
Paul suspected Daniel wasn't quite with him-poised as he was on the cusp of sleep.
"This morning. While you were on the bus, I guess." Paul sat down on the other chair on the porch. "I told him I didn't know where you were."
"Now you do." Daniel sat up straighter, looked at Paul as if he was trying to wake himself up.
"So," Paul said. He rubbed his hands on his khakis.
"So." Daniel looked away from him-towards the garden that Paul had coaxed back to life during the long months after Daniel's disappearance and before he'd met Thom.
"I think General O'Neill would want to know you're here. That you're safe," Paul spoke softly.
"I'm not a child, Paul. Don't patronize me," Daniel said.
He looked so tired, Paul thought not for the first time. Not at all like the Daniel he remembered-no fire, no passion. "I'm not. And you damn well know it."
"Call him, tell him I'm here, and make sure he knows that he doesn't need to check up on the poor crippled traitor." Daniel leaned forward and gripped the porch railing and got up. "I don't want to ever see him again. You want to tell him something-tell him that. Oh and congratulate him on his promotion on the ashes of the innocent."
Paul handed Daniel his crutches wordlessly and watched as he went back into the house.
"Paul?" Thom came onto the porch a few minutes later.
Paul shook his head, unable to bring himself to speak. He leaned into Thom's embrace and drew on his husband's strength. He knew what he had to do-he just didn't want to be the bearer of the news.
"He's here," Paul said when Jack answered his cell.
"Thank God," Jack said. He pulled into a convenience store parking lot. "Is he okay?"
There was a long hesitation and then finally Paul said, "Yeah."
"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe." Jack found his hands were shaking slightly.
"He's tired, worn out. He took a bus up here," Paul said and then there was another pause. "He's...it's like there's nothing left of him."
"I'll get the next flight up," Jack said.
"No." There was no hesitation this time. "Jack, seeing you has brought up a lot of stuff I think Daniel's tried to hide the past two years."
"So? What? You think letting him hide some more is for the best?"
Once again, Paul hesitated. Jack could hear measured breaths. "I think that if you come here now, he's going to run again. And if he does, neither you nor I will ever find him again." Paul went on before Jack could get in a word. "Go back to Colorado. Stay in Washington—wherever you need to be to get things straightened out. I'll keep you updated. Please, Jack."
It was Jack's turn to hesitate. The thought of Daniel disappearing yet again was horrible to contemplate-been there, done that, got the t-shirt too damn many times. Paul, much as he hated to admit it, was one hundred percent right in saying Daniel would run again. "Okay," Jack said, even though it hurt like hell. "Okay, I'll get things in order. But, Paul? If anything changes, if he..."
"I will. I promise. I love him too," Paul said and then hung up.
Jack put his head on the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths before sitting back up. He suspected Daniel needed him, he just didn't know it yet. They'd had something once upon a time. More than friends, not quite the full way to being lovers. Jack prayed for the chance to get all of Daniel back.