An Indian summer became a brief, chilling autumn, which became a bitterly
cold winter. It was strange, Sam thought, how easily they had come to take
things for granted. Things like heating systems and hot water, warm clothes
and snow boots, even simple things like hot coffee with milk and sugar. In
a derelict house in a broken world, the small Resistance shivered their way
through their strange hard lives. There was no longer any embarrassment in
huddling together to keep warm. It was a matter of survival. Jack and his
teams of scavengers kept their heads down in the driving snow, returning
with scraps of food and startling scraps of information. Osiris and
Nefertuum and their Jaffa were scouring the streets of the snowed-under
city, rigorously correcting mistakes made in the past. Slaves were
regimented, accounted for, and housed in barracks now. At least the slaves
were fed, Sam found herself thinking, and their fingers and toes weren't
turning blue from the cold…
Stop that! her inner voice told her. Don't think like that.
But it was hard, sometimes, and harder at other times. If they only turned themselves in, they wouldn't die from cold. But her inner voice persisted in telling her how lucky she was, how lucky they all were, to have made their plans when security was still lax. They were lucky that no Jaffa ever came here. They were lucky in so many ways.
But it was hard to look on the bright side when the wind howled and she could hear the cracking as the snow piled up on the roof. It was especially hard when she saw Daniel, still curled up in his corner, so seldom awake and alert. His habitual state was a deep sleep, punctuated with strange strangled sobs and cries from dreams of his sketchily remembered rape. It was hard to see Janet watching him and many others, longing to help and to heal as she should be able to do, but knowing she could do nothing whilst they had nothing. She could only reassure with words alone. Sam could only plan, and with no paper, no pens or pencils, she used a large piece of rock chalk to draw on the walls. Sometimes the whole room would be filled with plans and ideas, mathematical equations, drawings and doodles, all aimed at tackling the apparently insurmountable problem. How could they, so few and so helpless, overthrow the Goa'uld and take back their world?
And what would be left of their world? And what would be left of the people? After all this, could they really find it in themselves to carry on?
The wind howled and the driving snow found its way into Jack's eyes and ears and mouth and nose. He was shivering so much he could hardly stand up straight. But he entered the dwelling of the Resistance in a vaguely triumphant mood; he and his scavengers had made a fairly good haul. It only took one inattentive Jaffa for a whole shipment of food to disappear. The Goa'uld had had to terraform the landscape to make it suitable for farming, and yet with all this technology their harvests still went astray! But the more food they stored for winter, the more chance the scavengers had to take it, and they took it with a vengeance.
But Jack's cheerfulness was short-lived. The food was eagerly received, but Jack had forgotten for a short while that he wasn't in Kansas any more. There was no such thing as a dry set of clothes here; he had to shiver and wait for his clothes to dry, and the good mood disappeared like a soap bubble. He found a corner to huddle in, and waited impatiently, snapping at anyone who said a word to him. It was only after a minute or two that he realised the corner he had chosen was already occupied.
Daniel opened his eyes when he sensed Jack was watching him. "Go away," he said sleepily.
Jack stared at him, and felt something rise within him, something hot and choking and almost blinding. Anger. He was angry suddenly, angry with the whole world, the whole world that no longer belonged to its offspring, he was angry with the Goa'uld, with the weather, with his lack of dry clothes, and most of all, he was angry that his corner was occupied by someone who was dry if nothing else.
"Daniel," he snarled, "I don't think you're the one who's been freezing his butt off for six hours in the snow to get food for us all. I think that's me. And you know what else, Daniel? I think that while I have been outside freezing to death, you have been in here being such a fucking drama queen that you'd gladly let me freeze so you can carry on sleeping whatever-it-is off, when we know it wore off weeks ago and you're milking it for everything it's worth! Get over it, Daniel! Get over yourself!"
Daniel rolled over. He stared straight at Jack, his blue eyes burning with a feverish light that made Jack want to look away, but he didn't dare. It lasted perhaps a minute, before Daniel's eyes closed and he was asleep again. Jack drew his breath in sharply, and then shuffled away, looking at the ground. He didn't say a word.
Sam had been watching this silently. For a few minutes, there were tears in her eyes. Sam never cried. She hadn't cried, not the day her world was destroyed, not when she first began to realise she might never see her family again, not on the day Daniel disappeared, not when the first snow began to fall and the Resistance began to freeze.
She was crying now, but no-one noticed.
But even the worst of winters must turn into spring. Day by day, the snow began to melt. The sun shone again. The seized-up Goa'uld city began to return to its former self. The regimented slaves were sent back to work on the farms, and Jack's scavengers reported rich hauls, of not only food but technology too. And this time, Cassandra managed to talk Jack into letting her help. Jack soon discovered the benefits of having a pretty fifteen-year- old girl with him. More and more Jaffa were distracted, and when they turned round, they found their food was gone, or else something else, like a zat gun, and Anubis forbid it, an energy staff. It was almost a game, seeing how much trouble they could get the Jaffa into and how much they could plunder. But the one thing they had not so far got hold of was a Goa'uld healing device. Sam wanted one; knowing she could heal people made her feel better about their situation, and Janet wanted one because she still felt helpless as a doctor.
In the corner, Daniel's sobs quieted themselves as he withdrew into himself, giving in to the forces sweeping him away. He dwelt somewhere where no-one could touch him, and he was happier there.
But one fine day in early March, things began to look up. Sam Carter stood up in front of an audience to describe her plan.
Two weeks later
"Attention!" Jack roared. "Who've we got?"
It was a varied selection. Sam's plan required the brightest and best, so Jack had assumed command of the mission, but his followers were a somewhat motley crew. He had refused to allow Sam herself to come, claiming she was too valuable to risk, and he had hand-picked his people whilst steadfastly ignoring her. Finally, there were four of them – Jack himself, Daniel's research assistant Nyan, Jennifer Hailey, who had been a lot less opinionated lately, and surprisingly enough, one of Hailey's companions-in- training, Lieutenant Sadurfield.
"Do you need anything else?" Sam asked, eyeing them carefully. They had all the weapons the scavengers had ever found, but that wasn't much. It was all Goa'uld weaponry, mostly old zats and one rather decrepit looking energy staff.
"No, I don't think so…" Jack said thoughtfully. "Oh, some snacks if you've got them?" He was being sarcastic, so he was somewhat dismayed when Sam's eyes lit up. "Wait here," she said excitedly, and disappeared.
Jack, trying not to look embarrassed, glanced around, and his eyes landed on a familiar face. He was suddenly reminded of something important. "Daniel," he said slowly, "I think you should come with us."
"Why?" Daniel asked sharply.
"You've been there before," Jack said blandly.
"So have we all!" Daniel was emphatic and defensive, but Jack could see through it to the fear underneath. Jack felt strangely impatient. Gone was the choking anger he had once aimed at Daniel; it had been replaced by indifference and impatience.
"You've been there… after," Jack persisted.
"So what?"
"So you'll know the territory. Plus you're used to working with me…"
Daniel shook his head. "No. Forget it."
"Daniel…" Jack's voice took on a mock-pleading note. "I realise what happened to you, but could you forget it for just one second, and remember what's at stake here?"
"What happened to me?" Daniel repeated. "I can't forget it… just as you can't spell it out!"
Sam entered at this point and was startled by the tension in the atmosphere. Without stopping to inquire about it, she moved forwards with something in her hands. Jack was startled when she handed him two apples. "It's all we've got to spare," she said. "Enjoy!"
"Thanks!" he said, and as he said it, silence fell. The mood had been broken by the surprising appearance of the fruit, but it was suddenly back in full force. The absolute hush; the enormity of what they were setting out to do; the unspoken thought – what it they failed? And there was Daniel – angry and defensive and so badly hurt.
Jack shook himself mentally. They had a job to do. He hated himself for how he'd treated Daniel – he'd accused him of cowardice, and his conscience spared no time in reminding him the catatonic state Daniel had been in when Jack had found him, the horrifying circumstances of his friend's rape…
But desperate times called for desperate measures. Jack gathered his team together and they left.
Sam watched them go. Daniel stood beside her, shaking, but even as she turned to him, she thought of the wild, reckless thing they were attempting to do, and she knew whose fault it would be if the plan failed. As the team disappeared into the crowds, the pair of scientists returned to what Jack called Auschwitz, and the rest of them called "Resistance headquarters."
Sam returned to her plans on the wall, and then stopped, suddenly realising she couldn't plan any more. The plan was in motion. She was not, sitting here and rocking back and forth, deep in thought. Janet looked at her in concern, but said nothing. She looked at Daniel with even more concern, watching him sit there, shaking.
Daniel was shaking with anger, though no-one was to know that. He hated Jack for even suggesting he go with them, he hated them for going at all, he just… hated them. His memories had faded to the point where he no longer cried out in his sleep, but it was the Goa'uld drug that kept him as docile as he was now. When he finally woke up properly, he promised himself, he would change it all. He could remember the eager look of anticipation on the face of the Jaffa, as they advanced on him lying naked, drugged and helpless. He could remember their laughter mingling with his screams…
He could remember the moment where he learnt what it means to hate. And as he slowly came to himself, still drugged, still hurt, still helpless, hatred surged through the core of his being. It was his life-blood, it was keeping him alive, it carried him through frenzied nightmares and suicidal dreams. Running from the demons, Daniel had learnt how to hate.
Janet was watching Daniel without him knowing, watching him carefully on this early spring night. Sam was her primary concern, as the one-time astrophysicist was so worried she looked positively ill. Daniel was just … Daniel. He was always like this, pale and withdrawn and deeply resentful of any interference in his misery. But tonight, Janet noticed she couldn't look into his eyes. They were burning with the light she recognised as feverish, burning with such intensity she had to turn away. She was almost relieved when the archaeologist sank into sleep as night fell. Strange… she could remember a time when she had chided him for keeping such unearthly hours. Ever since the forcible administration of the Goa'uld drug, he was sleeping most of the time. The drug was wearing off, Janet knew, but it was taking weeks and months, not the hours of conventional, terrestrial date- rape drugs.
She left him after a while. She was worried about him and horrified at what had happened to him, but people grow more selfish in a post-apocalyptic world. She left Daniel to talk to Sam as the long night wore on. The Resistance slept; soon the doctor and the astrophysicist were the only ones left awake. By flickering blue light, they sat and whispered in a corner. Janet had come to try and persuade Sam to sleep, but she realised quickly that it was a lost cause.
Stop that! her inner voice told her. Don't think like that.
But it was hard, sometimes, and harder at other times. If they only turned themselves in, they wouldn't die from cold. But her inner voice persisted in telling her how lucky she was, how lucky they all were, to have made their plans when security was still lax. They were lucky that no Jaffa ever came here. They were lucky in so many ways.
But it was hard to look on the bright side when the wind howled and she could hear the cracking as the snow piled up on the roof. It was especially hard when she saw Daniel, still curled up in his corner, so seldom awake and alert. His habitual state was a deep sleep, punctuated with strange strangled sobs and cries from dreams of his sketchily remembered rape. It was hard to see Janet watching him and many others, longing to help and to heal as she should be able to do, but knowing she could do nothing whilst they had nothing. She could only reassure with words alone. Sam could only plan, and with no paper, no pens or pencils, she used a large piece of rock chalk to draw on the walls. Sometimes the whole room would be filled with plans and ideas, mathematical equations, drawings and doodles, all aimed at tackling the apparently insurmountable problem. How could they, so few and so helpless, overthrow the Goa'uld and take back their world?
And what would be left of their world? And what would be left of the people? After all this, could they really find it in themselves to carry on?
The wind howled and the driving snow found its way into Jack's eyes and ears and mouth and nose. He was shivering so much he could hardly stand up straight. But he entered the dwelling of the Resistance in a vaguely triumphant mood; he and his scavengers had made a fairly good haul. It only took one inattentive Jaffa for a whole shipment of food to disappear. The Goa'uld had had to terraform the landscape to make it suitable for farming, and yet with all this technology their harvests still went astray! But the more food they stored for winter, the more chance the scavengers had to take it, and they took it with a vengeance.
But Jack's cheerfulness was short-lived. The food was eagerly received, but Jack had forgotten for a short while that he wasn't in Kansas any more. There was no such thing as a dry set of clothes here; he had to shiver and wait for his clothes to dry, and the good mood disappeared like a soap bubble. He found a corner to huddle in, and waited impatiently, snapping at anyone who said a word to him. It was only after a minute or two that he realised the corner he had chosen was already occupied.
Daniel opened his eyes when he sensed Jack was watching him. "Go away," he said sleepily.
Jack stared at him, and felt something rise within him, something hot and choking and almost blinding. Anger. He was angry suddenly, angry with the whole world, the whole world that no longer belonged to its offspring, he was angry with the Goa'uld, with the weather, with his lack of dry clothes, and most of all, he was angry that his corner was occupied by someone who was dry if nothing else.
"Daniel," he snarled, "I don't think you're the one who's been freezing his butt off for six hours in the snow to get food for us all. I think that's me. And you know what else, Daniel? I think that while I have been outside freezing to death, you have been in here being such a fucking drama queen that you'd gladly let me freeze so you can carry on sleeping whatever-it-is off, when we know it wore off weeks ago and you're milking it for everything it's worth! Get over it, Daniel! Get over yourself!"
Daniel rolled over. He stared straight at Jack, his blue eyes burning with a feverish light that made Jack want to look away, but he didn't dare. It lasted perhaps a minute, before Daniel's eyes closed and he was asleep again. Jack drew his breath in sharply, and then shuffled away, looking at the ground. He didn't say a word.
Sam had been watching this silently. For a few minutes, there were tears in her eyes. Sam never cried. She hadn't cried, not the day her world was destroyed, not when she first began to realise she might never see her family again, not on the day Daniel disappeared, not when the first snow began to fall and the Resistance began to freeze.
She was crying now, but no-one noticed.
But even the worst of winters must turn into spring. Day by day, the snow began to melt. The sun shone again. The seized-up Goa'uld city began to return to its former self. The regimented slaves were sent back to work on the farms, and Jack's scavengers reported rich hauls, of not only food but technology too. And this time, Cassandra managed to talk Jack into letting her help. Jack soon discovered the benefits of having a pretty fifteen-year- old girl with him. More and more Jaffa were distracted, and when they turned round, they found their food was gone, or else something else, like a zat gun, and Anubis forbid it, an energy staff. It was almost a game, seeing how much trouble they could get the Jaffa into and how much they could plunder. But the one thing they had not so far got hold of was a Goa'uld healing device. Sam wanted one; knowing she could heal people made her feel better about their situation, and Janet wanted one because she still felt helpless as a doctor.
In the corner, Daniel's sobs quieted themselves as he withdrew into himself, giving in to the forces sweeping him away. He dwelt somewhere where no-one could touch him, and he was happier there.
But one fine day in early March, things began to look up. Sam Carter stood up in front of an audience to describe her plan.
Two weeks later
"Attention!" Jack roared. "Who've we got?"
It was a varied selection. Sam's plan required the brightest and best, so Jack had assumed command of the mission, but his followers were a somewhat motley crew. He had refused to allow Sam herself to come, claiming she was too valuable to risk, and he had hand-picked his people whilst steadfastly ignoring her. Finally, there were four of them – Jack himself, Daniel's research assistant Nyan, Jennifer Hailey, who had been a lot less opinionated lately, and surprisingly enough, one of Hailey's companions-in- training, Lieutenant Sadurfield.
"Do you need anything else?" Sam asked, eyeing them carefully. They had all the weapons the scavengers had ever found, but that wasn't much. It was all Goa'uld weaponry, mostly old zats and one rather decrepit looking energy staff.
"No, I don't think so…" Jack said thoughtfully. "Oh, some snacks if you've got them?" He was being sarcastic, so he was somewhat dismayed when Sam's eyes lit up. "Wait here," she said excitedly, and disappeared.
Jack, trying not to look embarrassed, glanced around, and his eyes landed on a familiar face. He was suddenly reminded of something important. "Daniel," he said slowly, "I think you should come with us."
"Why?" Daniel asked sharply.
"You've been there before," Jack said blandly.
"So have we all!" Daniel was emphatic and defensive, but Jack could see through it to the fear underneath. Jack felt strangely impatient. Gone was the choking anger he had once aimed at Daniel; it had been replaced by indifference and impatience.
"You've been there… after," Jack persisted.
"So what?"
"So you'll know the territory. Plus you're used to working with me…"
Daniel shook his head. "No. Forget it."
"Daniel…" Jack's voice took on a mock-pleading note. "I realise what happened to you, but could you forget it for just one second, and remember what's at stake here?"
"What happened to me?" Daniel repeated. "I can't forget it… just as you can't spell it out!"
Sam entered at this point and was startled by the tension in the atmosphere. Without stopping to inquire about it, she moved forwards with something in her hands. Jack was startled when she handed him two apples. "It's all we've got to spare," she said. "Enjoy!"
"Thanks!" he said, and as he said it, silence fell. The mood had been broken by the surprising appearance of the fruit, but it was suddenly back in full force. The absolute hush; the enormity of what they were setting out to do; the unspoken thought – what it they failed? And there was Daniel – angry and defensive and so badly hurt.
Jack shook himself mentally. They had a job to do. He hated himself for how he'd treated Daniel – he'd accused him of cowardice, and his conscience spared no time in reminding him the catatonic state Daniel had been in when Jack had found him, the horrifying circumstances of his friend's rape…
But desperate times called for desperate measures. Jack gathered his team together and they left.
Sam watched them go. Daniel stood beside her, shaking, but even as she turned to him, she thought of the wild, reckless thing they were attempting to do, and she knew whose fault it would be if the plan failed. As the team disappeared into the crowds, the pair of scientists returned to what Jack called Auschwitz, and the rest of them called "Resistance headquarters."
Sam returned to her plans on the wall, and then stopped, suddenly realising she couldn't plan any more. The plan was in motion. She was not, sitting here and rocking back and forth, deep in thought. Janet looked at her in concern, but said nothing. She looked at Daniel with even more concern, watching him sit there, shaking.
Daniel was shaking with anger, though no-one was to know that. He hated Jack for even suggesting he go with them, he hated them for going at all, he just… hated them. His memories had faded to the point where he no longer cried out in his sleep, but it was the Goa'uld drug that kept him as docile as he was now. When he finally woke up properly, he promised himself, he would change it all. He could remember the eager look of anticipation on the face of the Jaffa, as they advanced on him lying naked, drugged and helpless. He could remember their laughter mingling with his screams…
He could remember the moment where he learnt what it means to hate. And as he slowly came to himself, still drugged, still hurt, still helpless, hatred surged through the core of his being. It was his life-blood, it was keeping him alive, it carried him through frenzied nightmares and suicidal dreams. Running from the demons, Daniel had learnt how to hate.
Janet was watching Daniel without him knowing, watching him carefully on this early spring night. Sam was her primary concern, as the one-time astrophysicist was so worried she looked positively ill. Daniel was just … Daniel. He was always like this, pale and withdrawn and deeply resentful of any interference in his misery. But tonight, Janet noticed she couldn't look into his eyes. They were burning with the light she recognised as feverish, burning with such intensity she had to turn away. She was almost relieved when the archaeologist sank into sleep as night fell. Strange… she could remember a time when she had chided him for keeping such unearthly hours. Ever since the forcible administration of the Goa'uld drug, he was sleeping most of the time. The drug was wearing off, Janet knew, but it was taking weeks and months, not the hours of conventional, terrestrial date- rape drugs.
She left him after a while. She was worried about him and horrified at what had happened to him, but people grow more selfish in a post-apocalyptic world. She left Daniel to talk to Sam as the long night wore on. The Resistance slept; soon the doctor and the astrophysicist were the only ones left awake. By flickering blue light, they sat and whispered in a corner. Janet had come to try and persuade Sam to sleep, but she realised quickly that it was a lost cause.