Jack was starting to really hate this guy. In fact, hate wasn't even close to being a strong enough word. Despise. Loathe. Detest. Execrate. Ahor. Akrhh. There were probably two hundred more words in multiple languages that Daniel knew.

He bit back the sudden urge to laugh at the thought of asking a ghost how you say hate in Ancient. His tongue touched against the inside of his mouth where he tasted a hint of blood, probably from the way he was shoved face-first toward the webbing and it caught him in the mouth before he flopped over so it was against his back. The urge to giggle crept up again as he stared across from him at Ba'al who sat on the bench like it was some glorious throne made just for him. Giggling would require too many muscles, though. He was on a mission to use as few as possible.

"What was its name?" he asked again.

Jack groaned. "Kanan." Hadn't they covered that already?

"There, you remember his name. What was his mission?"

"No mission." Jack was really starting to wish for the warm glow of the sarcophagus right now and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad. Did he want it so he could have the health and stamina to ditch this popsicle stand or did he ache for it because he was becoming addicted? Was this what Daniel had felt, only worse because every time he was in it, there was nothing to heal?

He realized Ba'al was talking again and forced himself to focus on it. "Was it to steal the slave from me?"

"I don't know."

"Did Kanan believe a slave could know my secrets?" Ba'al demanded. "There's something else you're hiding from me. I sense it. I feel it." He bolstered his words by lifting a hand and pointing a knife toward Jack.

"When are you gonna end this?" Jack whispered, not sure if the words were just in his head or if they actually came out. Everything was distant. He didn't care anymore.

"If you tell me what I wish to know, I will end this." Was that Ba'al talking? Jack wasn't talking to him. He was talking to someone else. Why was Ba'al talking?

"Daniel?"

Ba'al frowned. The pathetic former Tok'ra host was already broken. He had hoped it would last longer. "Your mind is beginning to fail. It's time for the sarcophagus."

Despite himself, Jack felt a part of him lurch at that declaration, and it wasn't entirely a bad feeling. "But," Ba'al warned amusedly, "as you regain the strength to return here, consider this… It will be far far worse next time."

Jack didn't care. He'd deal with that later. If he dealt with it at all. Maybe it wasn't too late to make this end. Maybe Daniel might have been right. Maybe he could do this after all.

There was a time long ago when Jack was tempted with giving up. Giving in. Losing hope. Even then he managed to find a tendril of hope to hang onto despite things looking dire. He was having trouble finding that tendril now. The universe was large and the SGC was small. They would have no way of finding him. He was hanging onto the ledge by a mere fingertip and that was starting to slip.

"Daniel?" he whispered, using all his remaining strength to call forth the specter of his friend.