Fate's Reflection Chapter 35, a stargate: sg-1 fanfic

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Janet sat back with a sigh, avoiding looking at the group. Slipping Dan's hand back under the covers after having moved him to the bed, she took extra care to slip the blanket over the pale knuckles.

"Well?" Hansen asked tightly.

"He was tired. That's all. I gave him a mild painkiller. He should be sleeping for quite some time—"

"He said he was dying, that the neuar wasn't working any more," Jolinar interrupted.

Janet paused, darting a look over to Carter. "We didn't have any way to know this, but the morphine I was administering did wear off faster than it should—"

"How long?" Hansen interrupted harshly.

Frasier stilled.

Sam looked at her twin, then to Janet. "He was getting better. Janet's been with him around the clock. And once you defeat Ra, we can try a few more options to see—"

"I didn't ask you, Major," Hansen said coldly, cutting her off. "How. Long?"

Janet stared at Dan, avoiding looking at the spiteful glare the commander was giving her. "There's no way to tell. We have no idea of the later symptoms except by counting the ratio of nanocytes to blood cells—"

"Loss of motor coordination, numbness in fingers, then a gradual loss of hearing," Hansen spoke up in a flat voice. "Ruptures of blood vessels in joint areas, seizures, and then dementia kicks in." She sat down by Dan's side, her voice lowering. "Then their heart rate picks up, they'll feel hot and cold at the same time, they'll begin to think they can see when it's only hallucinations in their minds, the throat swells, and they can't breathe and if they're lucky..." Hansen lifted her head, her eyes dull. "They die."

Speechless, Janet sat there, staring at Sam Hansen. Finally, she slipped her hands in her lab coat pockets as she fought for composure.

"Does Captain O'Neill know?" Hansen asked out of the blue.

Frasier lifted her eyes towards her. Sam's breath caught when she saw the bleak negative. Hansen swore softly.

"Damn. Just as well. Last thing I need is him further on the edge—"

"How could you even consider that right now?" Carter burst out, outraged at the calculating tone. Carter's voice went louder to drown out Hansen's cold one. Did she ever sound like this? It didn't seem possible such words could come out of her mouth, yet here was a version of her, looking more upset at the possibility of her man risking their mission. How did she ever become this way? "We're talking about two brothers who—"

"Who will be one left no matter what we try to do!" Hansen snapped. "I have millions, Major. Millions, to consider. I know exactly how they feel!"

"Do you? Do you really?" Carter stood up, towering over her counterpart. She found herself getting angrier. She couldn't stop herself. The more she tried to find a reason for her double's behavior, the more she realized there was none she could discover. She couldn't make any excuses for herself—no. For Hansen.

"Ladies, this is not the place to—"

Hansen thrust a hand back up in the air, her wedding ring glinting in the lamplight.

"You're damn right I know how they feel!" She glared at Carter and grabbed her left hand, comparing bare fingers to hers. "You're the one who doesn't know how they feel!" The commander dropped her hand and sat back down on the bed. Her back to them all, her voice floated out to them.

"I'll stay here with Doctor O'Neill."

"Shall I remain?" Jolinar offered.

Hansen snorted. "Suit yourself."

Jolinar didn't appear offended. She nodded towards Carter, a sad smile on her lips before she sat down on a stool near the foot of the bed.

Carter didn't know what to say. She absently pulled back down her collars, straightening her uniform. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. So she muttered, "I'll let you know when it's time for the briefing," and she went outside, motioning for Janet to follow. She doubted the doctor would be welcome in Hansen's eyes.

Frasier took the hint, murmuring to them how they could reach her later by telling the guard posted outside, but got only a nod from Jolinar. Sam stood by the door, waiting for her to leave when a soft voice called her back. Turning, she saw Jolinar walking over.

"Here," the Tok'ra murmured, taking Sam's hand suddenly, pressing two small objects into her palm. She numbly looked down at her palm. Two vials with light topaz liquid were nestled in her hand.

"Neuar," Jolinar explained.

Baffled, Sam stared at Hansen's back.

Hansen's flat voice floated over her tensed shoulders. "He doesn't need them any more, like he said. You might as well give them to the colonel and Doctor Jackson. We may need him to translate if he's willing to go back with us."

Sam looked down at the vials again. She smiled her thanks to Jolinar. It faded as her gaze drifted back to Hansen. Saying nothing, holding the vials with great care, Sam closed the guest room door behind her.

SG1SG1SG1

Flinching, Daniel resisted the urge to panic when he felt the platform glide into the MRI chamber. He felt odd being here when only days before he recalled John O'Neill carrying his younger brother into a similar chamber.

A few beeps and hums surrounded him as he lay there in the claustrophobic space. He could feel the walls around him like a sarcophagus, a feeling he'd hoped never to encounter again. The platform he was on trembled as it glided back out. He resisted the urge to run, though. He wasn't forced into the chamber this time.

"Okay, Doctor Jackson. We're all finished here."

Daniel would have jumped off the platform and left like a shot if it weren't for the fact that when he sat up, the room spun. He hated this. One moment he felt fine; the next he felt like he was bound by a white haze, his limbs deadweights. Did this mean he wasn't better yet?

What if he went blind again?

Daniel frowned as his heart hammered loudly and his vision blurred. Determined to not let it stop him, he stood.

His knees buckled.

"Whoa, there." John's voice was next to his ear, followed by a pair of strong arms under his, lifting him to his feet again.

"Got up a little too fast," Daniel muttered. The white haze was still over his eyes, stronger than before. He was beginning to have trouble breathing now. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe?

"Easy. Take it easy. What's the matter?" Daniel vaguely saw a hand waving in front of his face. Or at least, he thought it was a hand. "Okay, calm down. They said this would happen. Comes and goes until everything stabilizes. Milk run, Daniel. Milk run."

"I know," stuttered Daniel as he concentrated on seeing past the white mist to the floor, taking count of each step he'd taken before to lead him back to the bed. Originally, he'd hated the thought of lying in bed while a war was raging in another place, and everyone fighting when he was resting. But now, bed sounded like heaven, and he couldn't wait to get back on it.

The infirmary solidified then faded into a fog once more. Daniel scrunched up his face, fighting to focus, wishing he had his glasses. But he'd left them on the bedside, figuring he didn't need them for the MRI. He quickened his pace.

John was heard sighing, tugging him to slow down. "Listen, ramming your nose into every wall isn't going to make you get better any faster. Follow my lead, and we'll get there, okay?" He paused. "Don't you trust me?"

Daniel didn't know how to answer. He trusted Jack or thought he did until Jack decided to censor a little detail from him about Sha're. No. That wasn't fair. Daniel kept his back straight, knees stiff to keep walking, resisting the urge to extend his arm to touch and protect himself from obstacles. He remembered how Jack led the way, gentle hand on his elbow, both offering and giving him the chance to preserve his dignity by not voicing it out loud, not like this death grip John had on his forearm, painfully too tight.

"I just don't like to need help," Daniel confessed.

"I'm sorry," John said quietly as he turned, pulling Daniel along to move around a cart. He positioned himself in front of Daniel, making sure the stares the staff were giving fell on his shoulders instead. "Dan never seemed to mind. In fact, he used to panic when I let go. He wasn't used to being alone for too long."

"And yet he wants you to leave him alone now?" countered Daniel, trying to distract himself from the sensation of being lost, the room appearing familiar one moment, blurry and strange the next. Where was his bed? It felt like they were walking forever.

"I told you. He blamed me for what happened to him. To all of them. I never should have left," John explained, his tone growing tight, telling Daniel he didn't need the reminder.

"You left to protect your family." Daniel sagged with relief when he felt the bed and sank down on it. He heard the curtain snap shut around the area. He gratefully leaned into the bed and waited for the walls to clear and the flesh colored blur to return to a face. "I would have understood. I think he would have, too."

John said nothing, sitting there.

"You have to talk to him."

"We did talk." John relaxed when he saw Daniel blink, his vision apparently clearing. "Or at least, he yelled a lot, and I listened."

"That's not talking. That's blowing off steam." Daniel shook his head ruefully. "Believe me, Jack and I do that a lot. It never gets us anywhere."

"You guys argue a lot?" John frowned.

Daniel paused. "Let's just say we hold very different opinions."

John nodded. "Oh."

"Unlike you and your brother." Daniel gazed at the ceiling. "You guys seem to get along well."

"We're family."

Daniel closed his eyes. "Yes. You are."

John slapped a hand against his knee. "But that doesn't mean I know what he's thinking. He never tells me anything. Never."

"No practice today," John mumbled between mouthfuls of candy bar as he rose from the bench outside the schoolyard. He saw Dan standing there, surprised to see him.

"Coach got some call so he canceled practice. Thought I might as well pick you up since Mom went to see that social worker Ms. Brenner again. We could walk home, maybe swing by Bob's store and pick up the new issue of—" He stopped when he realized Dan wasn't crossing the patch of grass dividing the school from the sidewalk, his head down, expression hidden behind his baseball cap. It reminded him too much of the past few days when Dan had acted like this, silent, sullen, which was why he'd decided to swing by the elementary school instead of home.

"We don't have to if you've got too much homework. Although I never heard of a third grader getting a lot of—" John dropped his candy bar when he realized Dan's jeans were torn at the knees.

"What happened to you?" he demanded as he walked over to Dan instead. His younger brother shrugged.

"Fell down," Dan mumbled, his head still bowed.

John crouched and with his knuckle lifted Dan's chin. He whistled at the reddish bruise on his brother's cheekbone.

"Fell down, huh? On what? A football player? Looks more like they fell on you."

Dan shrugged again and shuffled away. John grabbed him by the arm, stopping him.

"Who did this, Dan?"

"No one," Dan replied dully. The boy fidgeted, the brim of his cap casting shadows over his roundish face.

"Yeah, right. That no one's got a powerful right, I see. Who was it?" John stayed crouched there, waiting.

Dan stuck out his lip and said nothing. John sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. Be that way. Come on." He got up and extended his hand, offering to take Dan's bookbag, but the youth shrugged and held on to it stubbornly. John glowered at the kid, wondering why all of a sudden he was acting so bratty, but looking at the bruise again, he figured it probably hurt a lot so that was why. So he made no comment, merely walked slowly alongside Dan.

Discarding the idea of hanging out at his favorite store, John made for home instead, taking the usual shortcut through the park. Maybe back at the house he could get Dan to tell him who'd hurt him. Dan made no comment, not asking why they didn't stop off at Bob's as usual.

"Heard Dad say you might skip the fourth grade," remarked John. He stuck his hands in his pockets, fishing for some change as he spied the ice cream truck parked a block away from their home. Maybe a bribe, he mused. Who could refuse ice cream? John never could when he was a kid. "Guess you'll be hanging with the older kids next year instead, Danny." He grinned when he finally found a dollar. He knew he hadn't spent all his allowance yet.

"Am I?"

John stopped, his fist over the dollar bill. "Huh?"

Dan looked up at John, appearing very scared, blue eyes huge in his face. "Am I going to be here next year?"

John looked at his dollar. He didn't think ice cream was going to do it. He crammed the bill back in his shorts and hunched down to look at Dan. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mom went to see Ms. Brenner again," Dan reminded John.

"Yeah, about the adoption papers. Why?"

"What if..." Dan bit his lower lip.

"What? Dan, I ain't a mind reader—"

"What if it was to tell her she doesn't want to?" whispered Dan. He stood there, hands twisting the dangling straps of his pack.

"What? That she doesn't want to adopt you?" John was stumped. "Nah. They just had to wait to ask your grandfather, and he finally wrote back to us last year, remember?" He stopped, wanting to smack himself on the forehead, having caught Dan's lower lip trembling. Of course the kid would remember. The letter wasn't particularly nice.

John wished he hadn't suggested they listen behind the shut door as his parents read the thing. Dan ran all the way up to his room and cried for hours. "Dan, don't be stupid. Of course they wanna adopt you. Mom said these things take time." He stopped, his eyes narrowing. "Did someone tell you we weren't going to adopt you?"

Dan shook his head. John reached over and gripped his shoulders, startled to see the boy flinch on contact. "Who said that? Was it the same person who did this to you? Dan? Who was it?"

"S-she said I was going back to her." Dan sniffed. He shook under John's grip.

John was confused. "Who? I don't—wait a sec. Was it—Dan, was it her? Did she come back? Was she by the school—"

"I don't want to go back!" Dan suddenly shouted, a small hand rubbing under his eyes to get rid of the stray tear. "I don't want to. I want to stay with you!"

"Of course, you are. You just have to wait. Mom said the papers were almost done—"

"No, no, no!" wailed the boy. "She said they were going to give me back soon." He dropped his backpack, slipping free of John's grip and took off.

"Dan!" John shot up, alarmed. He snagged the discarded school bag and ran after the boy. He dashed across the street, relieved to see Dan was only heading for their house. In his haste, he nearly got hit by a car, which honked loudly, making him jump back. John babbled some sort of apology as it went by very slowly, not seeing the blonde woman curse at him as he kept his eyes on Dan in the distance.

"You got to pry the stuff out of him with a crowbar," muttered John. A chill went down his spine as he realized had he not cut school the next day to check on Dan, he would have never seen that same blonde woman make a grab for his younger brother.

John had practically seized Dan in a weird tug of war, yelling at the top of his lungs for someone to help. If the police officer hadn't come by...He clenched his jaw, refusing to dwell on the possibility. He could still hear that crazy woman as they took her away. He never knew what happened to her after that. John never needed to testify since he was too young to stand in court as a witness. Not that he cared at the time. Just so long as she never bothered them again.

Not realizing Daniel was still listening intently, he muttered, "Damn brat didn't even tell me Lily was stalking him for the past week until she tried to snatch him. Bitch broke his arm when she slammed the car door on him and—" He stopped, hearing the sharp intake of breath. He lifted his gaze and saw all the remaining color drain out of Daniel's face. Alarmed, he leaned forward, grabbing him by the arm. "Hey. You okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

John let go, snorting. "Sure." Crossing his arms, he sat there staring at the edge of the bed. He twisted around and saw no one standing by the double doors.

"Who are you looking for?" Seeing no one was there, Daniel frowned.

"For a stubborn goat to show his face," muttered John. He thought the colonel would have come up by now.

Daniel said nothing, staring at the ceiling. He furrowed his brow, trying to distinguish the light from the ceiling; the bright blur seemed to wash across the entire area.

"Don't strain yourself. Give it time."

"Time we don't have," Daniel reminded him. "We have to figure a way back to your reality, contact the Asgards."

John frowned. He had spoken with a few of the rebels as he waited outside the MRI chamber as Warner had hemmed and hawed over the procedure, which annoyed the hell out of him. "The first gate is gone."

"There is the second gate."

"Sure. We'll just go knocking at their door and go, Excuse me, do you happen to have any Grey Poupon?"

Daniel gave a choked laugh. "Not exactly, but we could..." He hesitated. Daniel really couldn't think of anything right then. His shoulders slumped.

"I'm sure we'll think of something when we go back," murmured John.

"Go back?"

John nodded. "Some of the guys have been talking. We can't all stay here anyway. We'll have to take a chance at Ra's ship. Jol said the address for his ship would be there from the last time he visited our planet. We go in, knock the hell out of it and take what we can get."

"Not much of a plan," Daniel pointed out.

"We can't stay here forever either. Forty-eight hours comes around for these guys and," John made a slashing motion with his hand across his throat. Daniel swallowed and nodded. "We've got a day and a half left before that happens. I'm going to the briefing room and—Where do you think you're going?" he asked archly as Daniel pushed off the bed.

"To the meeting," Daniel gasped, wondering why his arms felt like rubber. A hand pushed him back down again, and he felt his face flush when he realized the gesture wasn't particularly strong.

"It's not for a few hours. You can take a breather first and let the last of the effects fade before you start doing gymnastics." John waited until Daniel finally eased back onto the bed.

"I am a little tired," Daniel admitted, closing his eyes for a second.

John raised an eyebrow high above his brow in surprise. "I never thought you would admit to that."

Daniel lay there, listening to the activity of the infirmary around him, and John shifting in his seat. He thought briefly that although Jack wasn't there occupying the seat he generally did after one of Daniel's mishaps, it still felt technically the same. He swallowed, a lump in his throat growing.

"She is Sha're, Jack. And she's not dead—"

"She is in our world! She is not your wife, Daniel! She is another person. She's not the Sha're you knew!"

"Uh, we shouldn't be having this conversation here, boys and girls."

"You're right. We shouldn't. This conversation shouldn't be happening in the first place! He's forgotten about the battle ahead!"

"That's not fair!"

"It never is, Daniel. It never is."

Jack was right. It really wasn't fair. Sha're in Jolinar, refused to surface, citing she had enough of the war and only wished it to be over. And then she'd dug a deep hole in her voluntary prison and stayed there.

It wasn't fair. No. It wasn't right. Sha're would never do that. Daniel knew it. Sha're fought with every fiber of her soul, to the end when she was able to pass her last message to him. He could still hear her whispering to him before all light, Goa'uld and living, died from her expressive eyes.

Daniel bit his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing John would leave. He could hear her telling him how much she loved him. Over and over again and he wasn't able to tell her until her last breath rattled in her body and fled. He could only tell her one last time, over her corpse.

To see Jolinar, hear her call him that name, in that dual voice made Daniel wish he was deaf and blind. He didn't need to see this. Not when all his longing and regret surged up again and attacked him with all its bitterness and reminders of failure. He had failed to save her and here she was again, a stranger in a familiar body, unable to understand if he apologized to her, say he loved her, or even if he asked her to—

Stay.

Daniel wanted to ask her to stay. The intent was so strong he could feel the words moving his lips, mouthing them in his mind, imagining her saying yes, the glowing eyes subsiding and his Sha're's intelligent, loving eyes gazing back at him.

God, why are you doing this to yourself, Daniel thought, clenching his fists. He remembered John was sitting there beside him, and he relaxed his fists. Everyone had told him that wasn't her. Even John said that wasn't her. But Daniel thought Jack would have...should have, understood. And when it appeared apparent that he didn't, the hurt became more pronounced.

"Hey." John tapped him on the elbow. "Can I ask you another question?"

Daniel didn't open his eyes. Too many questions. From him, from everyone asking if he was okay, from himself. Maybe if he pretended to sleep, they'd leave him alone for just one moment. But something in John's tone reminded him of Jack when he'd asked Daniel over after the first time he came back from Abydos after Sha're was gone.

"I just wanted to know..." John trailed off, unsure if he should ask, unsure about the response.

Daniel didn't open his eyes, but he finally responded. "What?"

John could be heard licking his lips nervously, shifting in his seat as if it didn't fit him. He cleared his throat.

"I...I heard you don't remember much about what happened...but...do you remember how you got those things? Was it—?"

"Yes," whispered Daniel. "It was her." Daniel absently rubbed his arms.

In as low a voice, John asked another question. "How did it feel like? The re'klya?"

Daniel opened his eyes, turning his head to look to where John was.

The captain gazed at the floor. "He never told me. Dan just said it was bad, and there were moments when they really hurt, but he never told me what happened or how it felt. I knew it must have been bad, but—"

"Maybe he had a good reason not to tell you," Daniel said softly.

"I want to know what he went through." The captain picked at his slacks. "I need to know how bad it was so I can...I don't know...help him maybe...if he'll let me."

"Are you sure you want to know?" Daniel turned his gaze back towards the ceiling. "It's probably better if you don't."

"Please."

Closing his eyes, Daniel gave it some thought. "At first...I didn't feel anything. They were like needles, like getting a pinch." He took a deep breath, his heart hammering fast from the memory. "Then..." Daniel shook his head.

"You okay?"

Daniel waved his hand, gasping. "Give me a minute." He felt himself being sat up, his head pushed forward to his knees. Daniel tried to tell him he wasn't panicking, but the gasping grew worse as the memory flared. He sat there, wrapping his head with his arms, trying to hide from the phantom screaming of his own voice from the pain, her laughter that sounded both like Frasier and like Hathor. He squeezed his eyes tight, vaguely aware of Jac...no...John, rubbing his back.

John sounded regretful. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No. It's okay," Daniel wheezed. He took one deep breath after the other, feeling his heart slowing to a reasonable pace.

Daniel bunched his hands once more. Calm down. You have bigger priorities, bigger problems to worry about than your own. Remember Ra. He's coming. He squeezed tighter around himself, willing his breathing to slow.

"Forget I asked." John clasped Daniel's shoulder. The archeologist looked up with red rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push."

"It was...bad," Daniel croaked. "I think your brother didn't tell you because he wouldn't want to wish it on anyone. Especially you. It was..." Daniel swallowed. "It was bad. You can't stop screaming once the devices are turned on. I don't know if it's something those things do or just the p-pain, but once you start screaming, there seems to be no end."

He could feel himself shaking. Even John's murmuring and the arm around his shoulders to provide some comfort didn't stop the trembling. He dropped his forehead to his knees again.

"It was like watching my parents die over and over again. It was like watching everyone I knew slip away from me, snatched away, and that pain became a solid form, stabbing me over and over again. You don't have time to breathe or think or beg. You just want it to stop or die to let it be over. You wonder why no one is listening to you begging for it to stop, but it just keeps going until you finally pass out from the screaming." Daniel felt John's hand drop, but he couldn't stop now. "Then you wake up and see...nothing."

John's jaw clenched. He saw Daniel take a shuddering breath and knuckle his eyes with a fist.

"That's why he didn't tell you," Daniel whispered.

John nodded, unable to speak. He lowered his head. He could hear Dan telling him in Daniel's words, but it was something that would never happen because Dan had never told him.

"Thank you," croaked John. "Now I know why he hates me so much."

Daniel's eyes flew open. "No! He doesn't—" He started, seeing a shadow behind the curtain.

John tracked his eyes and stiffened when he saw Janet Frasier standing there, her hands clutching her stethoscope, eyes wide and overly bright, the only color on her white face.

"Doctor Frasier. John rose, hands out to say something, anything, but the look of shock on her face faded as she stood straighter and gave him a nod.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I was heading over to give Daniel a quick check. I read Doctor Warner's results, and everything looks fine. No permanent damage." Janet paused at the curtain opening. "May I come in, Daniel?"

Daniel bit his lip. She did hear everything. He nodded his consent and watched her cross to the bed.

"Your vision is gradually improving. I read the report. Your sight is now at 140/140 and should return to your original vision soon. Doctor Warner was a little concerned about your low blood pressure." She briskly adjusted an IV stand. Daniel found it odd she was setting up the IV bag herself. Usually, the nurses did such a task. "You're a bit dehydrated—"

"Couldn't really keep anything down," Daniel murmured. He looked around her and found John frowning at her back. Apparently, the captain could see it, too.

Janet didn't seem like she was stopping at all to take a breath, still talking rapidly. "Well, this should help with that problem." She probed Daniel's left arm gently, feeling for a vein for her to insert the needle. "There's something in it that will—"

"Ow!" Daniel jerked as the needle went too deep, surprising him. He didn't mean to say it out loud, but he was concentrating so hard on not flinching every time she touched him, trying so hard not to imagine glowing eyes on her that the prick felt like it hurt more than it probably did. He looked down at his arm and saw a small droplet of blood where the needle had torn out.

Janet blanched. The needle dropped to the floor, and she took a step back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Alarmed, Daniel sat up. "Janet—"

John blocked her escape from the curtained area. "Doctor Frasier—"

Bright eyes cast upon Daniel, pleading for forgiveness. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry..."

"It wasn't you." Daniel pushed up, raising himself higher to see her.

"Another reality, another person, Doctor," John told her. She spun around to stare at him. The captain gazed down sadly at her. "I think they all said it before. Not all realities are the same. There are differences. Yours...was a bit extreme."

"Janet."

Frasier turned back towards Daniel. The archeologist gestured for her to come closer, and she paused before finally approaching.

Unsure of how she would react, Daniel snagged her wrist and pulled her closer. The doctor gave a small gasp, trying to pull her hand back.

"It wasn't you," Daniel told her firmly. Looking at her, trying hard to forget the arrogant smirk he'd seen on her double, Daniel raised his voice to a determined pitch. "You are nothing like her. Nothing. I tried to reach her when I was there, but it didn't work. She couldn't have stopped Hathor from doing this to me like Sha...my wife couldn't stop anything Amonet forced her to do." He let go of her hand. Janet held it in her other, staring at him. "It wasn't you."

"Damn right," murmured John. "The longer I stay here, the more I agree."

Janet looked at them both and gave them a sad smile. "Thank you."

John waved towards Daniel who was giving him an amused look. John stuck his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "I'm gonna go and report to the commander before she bites my ass off."

"She was very nice," Daniel told him. John returned the comment with a disbelieving look.

"To you maybe. She hates me." John pretended to groan. "Damn woman would see me jettisoned off into space."

Daniel leaned back onto the bed, giving Janet a smile. "Hm, apparently it was the same with Jack. He was complaining about that too."

John grunted. "How comforting. I'll be back. Gonna check on the commander and Kawalsky." He gave Daniel another glance. The archeologist nodded, and he smiled tightly. He gave a nod to Doctor Frasier and slipped out of the curtained area.

Standing there, Janet slid her hands into her pockets. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay...getting there. I'm all right, Janet. I could leave right now." Daniel pretended to rise, knowing what her response would be.

"Since when are you a doctor?" Janet retorted, walking over and giving him a soft push back onto the bed.

Daniel pretended to sigh. "You know, technically, I am."

"Of archeology. Leave the medicine to the doctors, Doctor."

"Okay."

Janet muttered to herself, pulling out her stethoscope and reached for Daniel. She paused.

"I'm okay," Daniel said quietly, his smile gone. "And I know that wasn't you back there."

"Are you sure?" she murmured, touching his arm, noting the stiffness.

Daniel guiltily folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, there is a bit of a...reaction...a little memory jumping in, but I know it wasn't you, and I'm here and safe. This'll pass." He studied her face, her eyes glued to the needle on the floor.

"It wasn't you, Janet."

Frasier looked at him and finally, nodded. She cleared her throat and visibly stood straighter. "Well then, let's see how you are doing, Daniel."

Daniel relaxed and closed his eyes. Sealing away the memory of glowing eyes, he made himself lie still as Doctor Frasier went on with her examination.

SG1SG1SG1

Ferretti glanced sideways over to his twin Captain Louis Ferretti and Kawalsky. He found himself more drawn to Kawalsky than to his double. The two were standing there in the observation room looking at the Stargate with pursed lips.

"Saw it only once," Captain Ferretti remarked. "Think maybe around the time the first transmissions came."

Kawalsky nodded. "Didn't they send you to Seattle?"

"To rendezvous with the commander's sub, but it never made the point. Had to go underground when we heard what happened." The rebel Ferretti frowned. "Think it was a few months before I caught up with you guys after meeting with Catherine." He looked over to Major Ferretti, eyes glancing over the name on the fatigues. "Major, huh?"

"You could call me Louis," Ferretti offered the double. The rebel snorted.

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing." The rebel pursed his lips. "How about if you call me Louis? Wouldn't do if we call you by your first name in front of your men."

Ferretti thought about it for a moment and shrugged. "Sounds fine."

"Great, I gotta salute myself," Louis groused, but he didn't sound angry. He looked over to Kawalsky. "You don't have that problem."

"No," Kawalsky muttered. "I just got people gawking at me like I was a ghost or something. Didn't even need one of those things." He nodded towards his comrade's wrist where a thin wire bracelet clung snugly to the soldier's hand. Kawalsky stared at the Stargate. "Was it there?"

Ferretti gave him a puzzled look. "Excuse me?"

"Where I died. Or that is, my other half." Waving at the Stargate, Kawalsky grunted. "Daniel told me I died in the line of duty."

Studying the embarkation room, Ferretti gave it some thought. He'd been still recuperating in the military hospital off base and hadn't found out about Kawalsky's death until Colonel O'Neill walked in for a visit, still dressed in his formal uniform of solemn blues and told him. His eyes saddened. "Yeah...you could say that."

Kawalsky gave Ferretti a look, before turning back to Louis and shrugged. Major Ferretti shifted, not liking where the conversation was leading and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm supposed to be heading back out there and spell your guys by the mirror. We're going to try turning it back on in a few hours."

"Won't they see you?" asked Kawalsky worriedly.

Ferretti shook his head. "From what Major Carter told me, I think you gotta open it on your side to see through it. Like a two-way mirror. Only one side can see the other unless both DHDs are activated." He studied his double and Kawalsky. He solemnly extended his hand. "It was good seeing you, Kawalsky. Even if it wasn't under the best circumstances."

Kawalsky grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Thank you. It's good to know we're friends here as well."

Giving a faint smile, Ferretti had no witty things to say. He scanned Kawalsky up and down, and the little smile faded, a sad look over his face before he curtly nodded and left. The other two stood there, watching the major go before turning back to the window.

"I hate this," Kawalsky murmured, ignoring the stares from the technicians monitoring the embarkation room, waiting in case any of the rebels or shift guards left on the other planet should return.

"What?" Louis whispered back.

"This waiting. We've got the tablets. I say we go and kick some ET ass."

Louis grunted. "You and me both, but we've got nothing left, man. Sticks and stones are all we have."

"If they crack the tablets, we can go and kick Ra out, rip up his lease."

Shaking his head, Louis sighed. "If they can crack the tablets."

"Of course they will. Hey, even with only one Dan O'Neill, we got it beat. He'll do it yet."

Louis paused. "That's right. You were in the locker room with my twin. You weren't there."

"What? What is it? Spit it out."

A sad look came over Louis' features. The lanky rebel folded his arms in front of him. "I was swinging by to see him. Saw the commander there with Jolinar. He..." Louis stopped.

"What? What?"

Louis sighed. "I overheard what they said. They were talking. Must have forgotten to close the door completely. Guard thought I was the other Ferretti 'cause he signaled me to go right in. Walked in on their—"

"Damn it, Louis. Will you just get out with it?"

"He's not going to see the whole thing through, Charlie."

Kawalsky stared at his friend. "What are you trying to say?"

Louis looked him directly in the eye. "I heard them, man. He's dying. Nothing's working for him any more. That's it for him."

"Are you sure? Maybe you were mistaken—"

"No. I walked in, and they stopped talking about it totally. Something's up."

Kawalsky frowned, the words he was hearing not sitting well in his gut. "Damn it, Louis, you can't make speculations like that." He ignored the growing interest from the bystanders. "They would have said something. At least John would have mentioned something when we got here. He wouldn't have left us in the dark about him. This is Doctor Danny we're talking about here for God's sake."

"Maybe he didn't know," Louis pointed out.

Kawalsky snorted. "Now you're really going out on a limb. That's one of the stupidest things I ever heard." He threw up his hands and glared at his friend for thinking the terrible. He started to turn on his heel to leave. "I'm going to go over there and talk to Dan myself—" Kawalsky froze.

John O'Neill was standing by the doorway of the observation room, shadows concealing the features of his face.

"Cap..." Kawalsky trailed off when he saw John lift his head. He took a step towards him. "Hey. Pay no mind to Ferretti. He's got a big mouth and no brains." He ignored the elbow the other was giving him. "I'm sure he didn't hear corre—"

"He never told me," John croaked in a hoarse voice. "I thought we had time. He..." John abruptly let go of the doorframe he was gripping. With a blink of the eye, he was gone.

"Shit," Louis muttered. "I guess I was right." He didn't look happy about it though.

Kawalsky was staring at the doorway, mind reeling. He didn't know whether to grieve for Dan or for John.

SG1SG1SG1

John didn't realize he was heading for the room until he was at the door. Coming to a standstill in front of it, next to the curious guard, John stared at the door for the longest time, hand up to grab the doorknob, swing it wide open and—

And what?

Ask if he was dying?

Ask if he lied to him?

John's hand lowered. He shot the guard a look, the same guard as before, one of the soldiers who bore witness to everything they went through in that room. He wanted to grab the soldier, wrestle him to the ground and choke the memory, every memory of what happened here, out of him. He wanted the guard to forget everything he saw and heard in this place.

Just like John wanted to.

Dan was dying.

The only family he had left next to him was leaving.

He had no one else.

No one knew where his parents were. Or Sara. And even up in those ships, if they were able to get in, they might not be able to find out anything about their whereabouts. It was him. And Dan. That was all that was for sure.

Dan was dying.

John took a step back.

Now he wished he hadn't decided to go and see his old friends, see how they were doing in this strange new world they'd escaped to. If he hadn't gone, he could have stayed ignorant of the fact that his brother was wasting away in a safe world with no cure, no hope.

"Captain O'Neill?"

John spun around and found Sam Carter standing there, studying him worriedly. He opened his mouth, wanting to say he was about to knock on the door, but he couldn't. He took another step back.

"Captain?" Sam frowned, wondering if John was ill. He was pale, drained of all color, even his eyes were bleak and dull. She reached out a hand to brace him, but he stared at the door instead. "Is everything okay?"

John blinked, tearing his sight away from the door. "No, everything's not okay. It never will be." He reached for the doorknob before jerking his hand away. Not looking at Carter or the guard who was staying back a respectful distance, John walked down the corridor without trying to enter the room at all.

"Captain?" Sam called out, but the man didn't stop. She looked at the guard who shrugged. Stumped, she glanced at the partly shut door. To her surprise, she saw a brown eye peeking back at her.

Jolinar.

The door widened, and the Tok'ra stepped fully into view. "Major Carter. You have word from your general about our next move?"

Sam shook her head, her gaze back on the hallway. John was already gone from sight, and she debated going after him.

"There's nothing you can do for him. For either of them."

Sam gave her a curious look, but Jolinar shook her head. "You gave the neuar to the others?"

"I saw Colonel O'Neill was heading that way and gave them to him. I...I wanted to talk."

Bowing her head, Jolinar opened the door wider.

"No. Not to her." Sam took a deep breath. "To you."

Jolinar stopped opening the door and stepped out instead, glancing over her shoulder to the people inside. She quietly closed the door behind her.

Sam didn't know why she was doing this. Not when there were so many things she needed to do first. She could have checked with General Hammond to see if it was time for their strategy meeting. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to another version of a Tok'ra who'd forced its way into her body, took it over, then died in the end, leaving this empty ache inside her.

"Could we," Sam still couldn't believe she was actually doing this, "talk somewhere private?"

Jolinar surveyed her, her gaze drifting up and down as if sensing something. Her eyes widened, and she nodded.

Sam didn't know whether to be relieved or apprehensive. She motioned the Tok'ra to follow her, and the two walked away from the guest room.

SG1SG1SG1

"You should have never said no, Chosen."

He could see her hovering over him, the smile she cast on him might as well have fangs showing through. Quietly, she leaned over, her deep red hair seeming to burn with flames as she pressed her lips on his mouth.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't fight back. Something was holding him down, pinning him, helpless and trapped. He tried twisting his body away, her hands now roaming greedily on him, promising her next move would be very aggressive and quite humiliating. Her taunts about making more Goa'uld with his code of life rang in his head, accusing him of doing such in the past when they'd first met. Now, she wanted to do it again.

No. No! He couldn't let that happen. He bit down on her lip, knowing it was a feeble attempt, probably only angering her more but anything was worth it so long as she stepped back for a moment.

A hand smacked him across the face as Hathor screeched. But it wasn't from her; it came from another direction.

"Stupid useless…"

Lily.

How could this be?

She shouldn't be here.

He raised his head, but her voice had vanished. He couldn't turn his head but felt her grip on his wrists, an impossibly strong grip compared to his. She couldn't have anything over him any more. He tried to break free, escape from her, from the Goa'uld before him, but her hold was strong, the iron-like grip threatening to snap his wrist in two, pinning him down on a cold golden floor, refusing to release him.

"Help me!" he screamed as he saw someone else watching, staying back in the shadows. A woman who only watched, her eyes glowing softly. He saw the face of his wife, wispy, faded, from a distance, once again out of his reach.

"Lie still. All will be well."

Head whipping back, he saw Janet, her hand on the one squeezing his fingers. She smiled, tears in her eyes at his pain. "Sh...it'll be okay."

"Help me...please..." he pleaded. "Please..."

She smiled.

Her hand squeezed, Lily's suddenly gone, and he felt bones break.

He screamed.

They laughed. Before they lunged forward, all three, pouncing on him with talons he never saw until they flashed before him, ripping him to shreds, the pain forcing him to scream again and again.

All pleas fell on silent ears, their smiles bloody and hungry. He could feel himself shattering, and the observer from afar had no pity or sympathy in her glowing eyes. He screamed again, this time for someone, anyone, to help him.

He felt another hand now. One on his head, another on his shoulder, the others gone with a curse and a shriek, banished by its presence. Panicking, he clutched the hand on his shoulder, shivering, shaking, not wishing to be alone with the demons lurking in the dark, refusing to leave him be...

Hands were holding onto his as Daniel twisted, gasping as the last of the nightmare faded. He could barely breathe after what felt like an endless scream finally faded from his mind and his ears. And then he realized that scream could be heard out loud.

Flushing, Daniel tried to pull away but realized he was being held tightly. He stiffened, wondering who it was when the person pulled away.

"You okay?"

Jack.

Daniel could feel the red creeping up his neck to his ears. God, how that must have looked, clinging to the colonel. Daniel ducked his head, suddenly feeling the stiffness of his neck from being curled up in his friend's hold for too long. He could feel the flush burning even hotter now.

The colonel said nothing, only easing him back down onto the bed, looking over his shoulder to the curtain to shake his head at a medic who was lingering there just in case. Daniel, at this point, wanted to curl up underneath his covers and just wait for this particular nightmare to be over.

"Here."

Blinking, Daniel focused on the blue vial Jack held close to him. He twisted his head a little, looking over his shoulder to where Jack stood with the offering. The colonel lifted up his other hand, showing the other bottle.

"Carter gave them to me. They're from Jolinar."

Daniel's eyes shuttered at the mention of her name. "What about Dan?"

Something flitted across Jack's face. "He doesn't need them." He walked over to the other side of the bed and sat on the chair, looking at Daniel's profile, the distant eyes. "Come on. We need you on this mission as soon as possible." Daniel looked up curiously. "We're meeting with General Hammond in a few hours. I was thinking maybe you could take a look at the tablets before that."

Daniel silently sat up and took the neuar. Jack smiled tightly and lifted his in return.

"Bottoms up," Jack said and tilted the vial, emptying the small container in a single gulp. He wiped the back of his mouth with a grimace. "Could use a little lemon."

Daniel drank the whole thing with no comment.

The colonel massaged his neck with a hand, watching as Daniel sat there, taking deep breaths. Already, he could see the lines of pain around his friend's mouth were fading, but the lines cutting across his forehead were not. Jack frowned. He remembered walking in, unsure of how to talk to Daniel. He was going to go and speak with John, maybe his brother, hell, maybe both, but then he caught Carter standing in the hallway, chewing her lip in thought. When he called her name, she looked up, hastily gave him the vials and hurried back the way he'd come.

Walking into the infirmary, Jack again remembered his words and wished he could take them back. But words once said were always irretrievable. So he stood outside the curtained off area with Frasier nowhere in sight and debated whether to go in to make amends. Would it only make things worse or would it be the usual get back to business thing?

Then he heard Daniel scream.

Jack didn't hesitate. He ran right in.

The archeologist was still asleep, screaming wordlessly, blankets twisting around his legs, further panicking him. Jack waved off the medics with a growl, yanking the curtain closed to preserve Daniel's dignity and went over to wake him. He reached out a hand, calling softly to not alarm him, touching him briefly on the forearm.

Daniel lashed out, grabbing his hand for dear life, shaking like a leaf.

Stunned, Jack stood there, Daniel clutching his hand, screaming for whoever it was to leave him alone, names of people he knew and one name he'd never heard of before. All the while he kept holding onto Jack's hand like a talisman, huddling close to him like a person seeking shelter from a violent storm. So Jack sat down and pulled him in, and wrapped his arms around his friend, waiting for the storm to pass, whispering to him how everything was okay. For long minutes, Jack did this, repeating it over and over again, morbidly reminded of how he'd said the same things to the same young friend as he suffered through the throes of the sarcophagus withdrawal.

He started wondering if this was helping at all when he felt Daniel shudder, finally waking from the torture his mind had dredged up for him. And Jack let go. Daniel was never one to run for comfort, for help, yet each and every time he did even subconsciously, it was always with uncertainty as if sure no one wanted to offer solace to him.

Jack always found himself being the giver; it never occurred to him to question it. He just gave it, sometimes even before Daniel was aware of needing it. He would sit there and wait for the young man to realize someone was here, ready to give a damn if only he was willing to ask. And Daniel never did. But it never stopped Jack from giving it anyway.

If only Jack was able to help with everything, then life would be good.

Jack wished he'd been there when Daniel had encountered the person whose name he cried out with such childlike fear. He suspected this was what he and Dan had shared before their fates split off to their different versions of reality. He suspected this was the name Daniel was refusing to say existed.

His fists clenched. He, by any right, had no justification to demand Daniel tell him who this person was and why she must have surely haunted his dreams ever since this all began. No. He had no right to ask nor did Daniel have any reason to tell him, but Jack would have thought Daniel would have told him.

Then again, the guy can get so tight lipped in a way even the CIA would envy, Jack thought. He eyed Daniel playing with the empty vial and knew the nightmare was still lingering in his head. The lines of pain were gone from the eyes and mouth, but the furrowed brow remained. And the shadowed eyes still stared at nothing.

It was what had unnerved Jack before. The eyes. They were usually expressive, always betraying Daniel, despite his denials. But when the devices robbed him of his vision, it was nearly impossible for Jack to figure out what was going on in Daniel's head, and the blank stare when he saw him lying in that cold cell reminded him too much of Dan O'Neill.

Yes, it was the eyes. That's what had been bothering Jack. They would spark with determination to help the brothers, but more and more, they dulled to a flat, listless gleam, matching his often dull and tired voice reciting how he was okay. It was the eyes.

Jack could always count on the myriad of emotions flying through the eyes to know what Daniel was thinking. It was spooky how right on Jack was with that, even at guessing when Daniel wasn't going to listen to orders and run off as usual to do what he believed was right. It was something Jack could count on in the heat of battle: the predictability of Daniel's unpredictability.

He resisted the urge to laugh. Now that was a tongue twister.

Daniel looked at him out of the corner of his eye, whipping them back to the front at the empty vial. Jack watched the long fingers turning the glass container before he finally spoke up.

"Bad?" O'Neill asked softly.

Daniel knew what he was asking. He swallowed, pretending to be utterly fascinated with the vial. When he saw Jack was still waiting, he reluctantly nodded slowly.

"Wanna talk about it?" the colonel offered.

Daniel shook his head, almost too quickly.

Jack sighed. It was probably not the time to force anything out of him. Time was short as it was. "But you know you can...right?"

Pausing, Daniel thought about it, and then slowly nodded once more.

Relieved, Jack sat back in the chair, feeling like he'd gained a partial victory. The rigid posture he'd held deflated and he allowed himself a moment to lean into the chair. His eyebrow arched when he felt no pain from his back. "Damn, this stuff really works. My second dose and I feel like I can do cartwheels."

Daniel raised his gaze, concerned as memory reminded him that he wasn't the only one who'd come through this with physical souvenirs. "How is your back?"

Jack rotated his arm, showing him with a grin. "Great. Warner got pissed off because he didn't get to poke me or anything. Didn't even need stitches."

"Good." Daniel's smile was small but genuine.

Jack would have smiled back, but he felt he needed to speak after all. The smile Daniel gave was reassuring, though. He took a deep breath. "Daniel, about Jol—"

"I know," Daniel interrupted him.

Another eyebrow up. "You do?"

Looking down at the vial, Daniel nodded. "I know you meant...well...That wasn't her. I wish it was, but it wasn't. I suppose telling me when I couldn't see would have made it worse. It was...it was just a shock that's all." He dropped the neuar container and sighed heavily. "For a moment, I wanted to ask her to...to stay."

Jack sat up, gripping the armrests. "Daniel—"

"I know, Jack. I know. I can't. It isn't right. Just...let's forget about it. Forget I said anything. You're right. I should be thinking about helping these people not moping around over my problems." A self-disgusted look washed over Daniel's features.

Jack scowled. "Don't be that hard on yourself either. For crying out loud, history was that close to repeating itself for you like Dan."

"But it didn't." Waving the glass vial and pointing to himself, Daniel shook his head. "It didn't. I only had them for two days, even less if I think about it. Dan suffered through more."

"Damn it, Daniel. It wasn't only two days. It was the longest two days I've ever had to go through."

Daniel blinked.

Leaning forward, Jack said it carefully, making sure his friend heard every word. "I know exactly how my double feels now, Daniel. And I know he would agree with me...one day was one day too many. It never...ever...should have happened." Jack clasped Daniel on the knee. "I'm just sorry I wasn't able to stop them."

Lowering his head, Daniel didn't speak. He poked the blankets underneath him, rolling the discarded vial up and down with his finger until he whispered, "Me too." His eyes flooded with dark emotions, his brow twitching, and Jack knew he must be remembering more details about his ordeal.

Jack sighed, falling back against his chair. He thumped a fist against the armrest. "But I couldn't do anything."

"Yeah, I know." Daniel raised his head. "But you got us out."

Jack scowled. "Actually, that was Kawalsky and Jolinar."

"I vaguely recall someone there when they pulled those things out of me," Daniel shyly said.

The colonel didn't smile. "Trust me. That was the first and only time I am ever playing doctor."

Shivering, Daniel didn't argue with him. He stared at the empty vial when something occurred to him. "Jack, you said Dan didn't need these any more. Why?"

The colonel pursed his lips as his brow knitted together. Daniel closed his eyes, reading the look on Jack's face.

"Oh."

"Teal'c told me," Jack said in a quiet voice.

"How is his brother taking it?"

"He doesn't know."

"What?" Daniel's head shot up. "He—What? Why not?"

Jack folded his arms, the frown growing. "Don't know. From what Teal'c was saying and trust me, the big guy wasn't happy playing the SGC gossip sheet, Dan said something to John about—"

"Blaming him for what had happened to him. About hating him. Oh God," Daniel shook his head.

"Care to enlighten me here, Daniel?" Jack asked wryly.

"John was here before, and he said something about Dan blaming him. I thought he was mistaken, but he said Dan was the one to say it to him." Daniel sighed, falling back against the bed. "I think I know why now."

"You do? That's good because I don't." Jack got up and began to pace. "They're brothers, for God's sake! Why the hell isn't he telling him?"

"Because it's always hardest to tell the person closest to you."

Jack stopped, studying Daniel. "Is that how it goes, huh?"

A sad smile twisted on Daniel's lips. "I'm guessing so. Siblings never tell each other everything while their best friends know all. Not that I would know. Never had a sibling...well...not one who didn't mind having me as a foster brother."

Jack didn't comment. "You think he's doing this for my twin's own good?"

"It's what I would do, I suppose, if I had a family."

But you do, Jack wanted to say but instead, he shook his head. "I think it's backfiring. He's going to go over the edge. I know. He has that...that look." A chill went down Jack's arms. It was the same look he'd had as he'd cradled his gun, sitting in Charlie's room. Before the uniforms came and told him he was reactivated. "I think we should tell him."

"No."

Jack stared at Daniel. "Excuse me?"

Staring at the ceiling, Daniel chewed his lower lip. "I don't think we should tell him. I think Dan should."

"Huh," was Jack's only comment. "And who's going to convince him of that?"

Daniel gazed steadily at Jack. "Me."