Chapter 2

"Colonel?"

Jack lifted his head from his hands. Carter and Teal'c stood in the observation room, peering at him through the window. He extracted himself from the uncomfortable plastic chair and walked up to the glass.

"Carter. I thought you were doing your Charles Bronson thing this weekend."

"General Hammond called me at home, sir. How are you feeling?"

"Me? I'm just peachy. You know, blue has always been my best color." He tugged at the scrub top. "Brings out the highlights in my hair."

"That's...that's good, sir." Carter looked over his shoulder and the lines around her eyes deepened. "How's Daniel?"

Jack didn't need to turn around to know what she was seeing. The scrubs and hospital bed were just a precaution for him, Fraiser operating under standard protocol for an unknown and possibly contagious organism.

Daniel's bed saw all the action.

Nurses Lucas and Sanderson, nearly unrecognizable beneath gowns, gloves and masks, were currently working at lowering Daniel's body temperature, dangerously high at 104.2 degrees. They'd sponged him down with cool water and were now placing cold packs in strategic places like his armpits and groin.

"How does Daniel look, Major?" He regretted the sharp words when Carter turned away, biting her lip. "Sorry."

"It's okay, sir. We're all a little on edge."

"Last I heard, Fraiser was trying some nifty new antibiotic on Donovan. Any luck?"

"The drug has proved ineffective. Lieutenant Donovan's condition has deteriorated." Teal'c's eyes remained fixed on Daniel as he spoke. "Dr. Fraiser is most concerned."

"Crap."

"Indeed."

"Colonel, General Hammond has authorized a return trip to P3X-757. Teal'c and I are 'gating out with SG-9 in an hour. We'll take samples of the air, water, and soil as well as interview the native population."

Jack frowned. "Sounds risky."

"We're going in MOPP 3 so the risk of contamination should be minimal." Carter smiled but her lips trembled. "We need you to hang in there, Colonel. Give us time to figure out what this thing is and how to fight it."

Jack clearly heard the unspoken: Please don't let Daniel slip away before we can get back. "Understood, Major. We'll be right here, waiting for you."

Lucas and Sanderson had slipped a cooling blanket under Daniel and then retreated to the other side of the room, writing on something Jack assumed was Daniel's chart. He sank back into the chair--still just as uncomfortable--and gathered Daniel's lax fingers into his own.

"Any time, Daniel. You know, you're the reason I'm cooped up in this sorry excuse for a room. There's not even a television, for cryin' out loud. The least you could do is wake up so we could play cards."

He didn't realize how hard he was clutching Daniel's hand until the fingers twitched and Daniel made a small sound in the back of his throat. Jack sprang to his feet, leaning over the side rail and peering into his friend's face.

"Daniel?"

Daniel opened his eyes, then slammed them shut, grimacing.

"Daniel, are you with me?"

Daniel licked his lips and cracked his eyelids open just enough to reveal a sliver of blue. "Lights."

"Get Fraiser," Jack said to the pair of green eyes--Sanderson--that materialized at his elbow. When he looked back Daniel had turned his face into his pillow and was attempting to curl into a ball. "And someone tone down the damn lights!"

"Jack." Daniel's voice was a papery rasp. "Too loud."

"Sorry." He picked up a styrofoam cup of ice chips. "Thirsty?"

Daniel nodded, reaching up to guide Jack's hand and sighing as the cool wetness hit his tongue. After two spoonfuls his eyes fluttered shut and his grip on Jack's wrist went slack.

"Stay with me, Daniel." Jack patted a flushed cheek, feeling like an ogre when Daniel's eyes flew open and he jerked away from the touch. "Shi-- Sorry. You need to stay awake for Fraiser."

"Tired."

Daniel was a linguist. When it came to words, his motto was "Why use two when you can use ten?" The wispy, one-word answers scared Jack as badly as the heat pouring off his friend's body.

"I know." He glanced over his shoulder and saw Fraiser gowning up just outside the door. "She's on her way, Daniel. Just...just hang in there."

Still squinting despite the dimmed lights, Daniel struggled to focus on Jack's face. "'S wrong...with me?"

Jack pasted on a smile. "Looks like you picked up a helluva bug while you were off-world. Nothing to worry about--the Doc'll have you fixed up in no time."

Daniel frowned. "SG-5?"

Damn. He really didn't want to get into this. "Looks like you and Donovan are the lucky ones. Everyone else is fine."

Fraiser swooped into the room like a mini tornado, grilling the nurses, checking monitors, and flipping through Daniel's chart.

"Hey there." Fraiser's smile, hidden behind the paper mask, showed in the crinkling lines around her eyes. "It's good to see you awake, Daniel. How do you feel?"

Daniel blinked and his gaze wandered slowly from Jack's face to hers. "Tired, Janet. Wanna sleep."

"I know you do, but I really need to ask you a few questions. Then you can sleep, all right?"

"'K."

"When you were on P3X-757, did any of the indigenous people appear ill?"

Daniel stared at her for a moment, a small line forming between his brows. "No."

"This is very important, Daniel. Are you certain you didn't come into contact with anyone who was sick? Not even something minor like a cold, a sore throat--anything at all?"

A long slow blink, then Daniel shook his head.

"Did you or Lieutenant Donovan eat or drink anything unusual? Something the rest of the team didn't try?"

"Always together. Ate...same." This time when Daniel blinked his eyes remained shut.

Janet squeezed his arm. "Ah, ah! Not yet, Daniel, I've got one more question. When did you start feeling sick?"

Daniel wriggled his fingers from Jack's grasp and scratched clumsily at his chest. "Itches."

"Stop that." Jack recaptured the hand and anchored it to the bed. "You're just gonna make it worse."

Janet leaned over the railing and lightly touched Daniel's cheek, encouraging him to focus on her face. "I can give you something for the itching, Daniel, but I really need you to answer me. When exactly did you start feeling sick?"

Daniel licked his lips. "'Gateroom."

"You were feeling crappy when you came through the 'gate? Why the hell didn't you say something to the Doc when she--?"

"Colonel."

Every man on base, from the General to the lowliest civilian, knew fear when they heard that tone. Jack wisely shut up.

Janet's frosty voice warmed thirty degrees. "What were your first symptoms, Daniel?"

"Achy. Dizzy. Sorry, Janet. Thought was nothing. Jus' tired..." The word ended in a sigh and Daniel's breathing slowed and deepened.

This time Fraiser let him be. She picked up Daniel's chart and began making notations, murmuring to herself.

"You still don't have a clue, do you?"

Fraiser looked up, eyes narrowed in annoyance until she saw Jack's face. Shoulders slumping, she shook her head. "Not really. Without knowing how or when Daniel was exposed, we can only guess at a possible incubation period." She tapped the pen on the clipboard and her gaze turned distant. "I am getting the impression that this organism--whatever it is--isn't airborne."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it isn't transmitted by sneezing or coughing. The fact that Daniel didn't come into contact with anyone who was visibly ill suggests he picked up this bug some other way."

"What other way is there?"

"Direct contact through blood, saliva--"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "There's not a mark on him. And I really don't think Daniel swapped spit with any of the natives."

"--an insect bite, contaminated food or water." Fraiser's eyes slipped shut and she shook her head. "We're fighting an enemy we know nothing about. I just hope one of the samples Sam and Teal'c bring back will provide some answers."

Jack looked at Daniel's flushed face. "So do I, Doc. So do I."

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Sam checked her watch as she tightened the screw top on a vial of water.

"Daniel Jackson is in good hands. I am sure O'Neill and Dr. Fraiser will do what is necessary to sustain him until we return."

She slipped the vial into the case and looked up at Teal'c. Despite his reassuring words, she'd become familiar enough with his moods to read worry in his watchful eyes and rigid posture. "I know they'll do everything in their power to keep Daniel alive. But the truth is that may not be good enough. In just twenty-four hours this disease has brought two strong, healthy men to the brink of..." She pressed her lips tightly together and busied herself with organizing the sample vials.

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. "Daniel Jackson possesses the heart and soul of a great warrior. He has proven himself capable of destroying powerful enemies. I do not believe he will allow such a tiny foe to defeat him."

She smiled. "So what you're saying is that Daniel is too pigheaded to die?"

"Indeed."

Sam stood, moving carefully in the cumbersome suit. "I hope you're right, Teal'c." She looked past his shoulder and her eyes brightened. "Thompkins? How is it going?"

Carl Thompkins, a civilian from Daniel's department, snapped his head up at the sound of his name, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Cursing softly, he hitched up the baggy suit and shuffled over to Sam and Teal'c.

"Major Carter. I didn't see you, ma'am."

Small wonder, thought Sam ruefully. Thompkins glasses kept slipping to the end of his nose and his faceplate seemed perpetually steamed up. Tall, lanky, and completely uncoordinated, Thompkins embodied Colonel O'Neill's definition of the word geek. Fortunately, he was also a damn good linguist.

"I saw you talking to some of the village elders. Did you have any success?"

Thompkins shoved at the sagging glasses, wacking himself with the plexiglass shield. "Ah, yes. Quite a bit, actually."

"You did? That's...that's terrific! What did you learn?"

Thompkins' eyes widened and his hands fluttered nervously. "Well, uh, basically that Dr. Jackson's initial instincts were correct. The Samposians are speaking a kind of bastardized form of Latin, but the dialect is a bit tricky seeing as it's derived from-- What's wrong?"

Sam clenched her gloved fingers into fists. It was the only way to avoid wrapping them around Thompkins' throat. As if sensing her murderous thoughts, Teal'c stepped smoothly between them.

"I believe when Major Carter asked whether you had been successful she was referring to your progress in obtaining information related to Daniel Jackson's illness."

"Oh. No, I, uh... It took me forever just to explain why we're wearing these suits. From what I can gather, physical illness is virtually unknown to these people."

When Sam continued glaring at the linguist with narrowed eyes and reddened cheeks, Teal'c inclined his head. "If you have completed your mission, perhaps now would be a good time for you to return to the stargate."

Thompkins backed up, never taking his gaze from Sam's face. "Right. Well, I'll just head back then. I'll wait for you at the 'gate, sir...uh, ma'am...I mean, Major." He spun on his heel, nearly pitching headfirst into the stream before he righted himself and staggered off.

Sam sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Hard to believe he and Daniel are from the same group."

"With respect, Major Carter, I believe Daniel Jackson ceased belonging to that group quite some time ago."

Teal'c's astute observation coaxed a weak smile onto her lips. "When you put it that way, I suppose you're right." She picked up the case of precious samples. "Let's get these back to Janet. Daniel's counting on us."

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*Socoldtoobrightitchesheadachesthirsty.*

Daniel squirmed, searching for a comfortable position. Shivers vibrated through his body until his teeth clicked in protest. He sought warmth but found an icy chill seeping into his bones and rough, scratchiness irritating his sensitized skin. He couldn't lift his leaden arms and an agonizing bolt of pain pulsed rhythmically through his skull. He poked out his tongue but it was too dry to moisten his cracked lips.

Where was he? Why was he cold and trapped and hurting and thirsty and...? He stared at the bright whiteness behind his closed eyelids and he knew. His useless arms only confirmed his growing suspicions. Oh, God. No. Not that.

Shivering and alone. Fear. Pain. White, white, white. Why had they put him in here again? Locked him away and left him alone. Sam. Teal'c.

Jack.

A sharp pain pricked the back of his hand, turning the simmering fear into panic. No. Please, no more.

JACK!

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The hushed, terse voices pulled Jack from sleep. He'd sat with Daniel until his ass had gone numb and his eyes refused to stay open. Giving in to the inevitable exhaustion from his sleepless night, he'd collapsed onto his own bed and fallen immediately into a deep sleep.

"You've got to hold his hand still, I can't find the vein."

"I *know* that--he's not exactly cooperating!"

Jack turned his head. Two new nurses--must have been a shift change while he slept--were huddled over Daniel, snapping at each other and fiddling with an I.V. line. He opened his mouth, ready to read them the riot act for their less-than-Florence Nightingale approach, when Daniel screamed.

"JACK!"

He elbowed both nurses out of the way and grabbed Daniel's hand, heart hammering. Daniel kicked his legs and tugged frantically at the cloth restraints binding his hands to the mattress. Tears leaked from his closed eyes and he breathed in short, sharp pants.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Jack growled at the nurses.

"He became restless and dislodged his I.V., sir. We were only trying to replace it."

Jack didn't bother looking at her, whichever her it was. "Did it ever occur to you that he's a little out of it and might not know what the hell is happening to him? Go get Fraiser."

"Jack...don't leave...no...not...not crazy."

Dear God. Is that where Daniel had gone? Jack laid a hand on Daniel's burning forehead. "Daniel, I'm right here. This is the infirmary, kiddo, not a padded room. You're just having a bad dream." He pitched his voice low and--he hoped--soothing.

Daniel gradually quieted and, though he continued trembling, his respiration slowed and steadied. He ran his tongue over his lips and his lashes fluttered, then parted to reveal a hint of blue.

"Hey, you back with me? How about some ice chips?" Jack scooped a little of the crushed ice onto a spoon and held it to Daniel's lips, gently supporting his neck.

Daniel accepted two spoonfuls, watching Jack with glazed eyes. He pulled at the wrist restraints with a soft sound of distress.

"For you own good, Daniel, you were thrashing around so much you yanked out your I.V." When Daniel stared through him with blank incomprehension, Jack sighed and covered one of the restless hands. "It's all right, Danny. Sleep."

"Looks like you're just what the doctor ordered."

Fraiser's quiet expression of approval took him by surprise. Jack realized he was unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the back of Daniel's hand--a trick he'd often used to soothe Charlie to sleep when he was ill and out of sorts. Face heating, he let go, leaving Daniel to the tender care of Florences 1 and 2, who had returned to fix the I.V.

"I didn't hear you come in."

Fraiser drew him away from the bed. "Lieutenant Murphy told me Daniel was having some kind of episode, that he was delirious. She said he was violent and had pulled out his I.V."

Jack snorted. "Lieutenant Murphy needs some serious work on her bedside manner."

"Yes, well, I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner but you did an admirable job of calming him down."

"Speaking of which, where the heck have you been? Daniel's ready to spontaneously combust. Please tell me you have news."

"I do. I was already on my way when Murphy found me."

Jack studied the eyes peering over the mask. Not a single crinkle that might indicate a smile. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Thirty minutes ago Sean Donovan coded. He's dead, Colonel."

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"I wondered where you'd gone."

Sam spared Janet a quick glance before returning her attention to the scene below. Colonel O'Neill was sponging down Daniel with cool water while maintaining a constant flow of inane chatter. He was currently in the midst of a fish story centering on "the one that got away." Sam listened to the soothing cadence of his voice, watching how gently he wiped her teammate's face, and her eyes burned.

"Not exactly what you'd expect from Colonel Jack 'Special Ops' O'Neill, is it?" Janet's voice was wryly affectionate.

"We're losing him, Janet."

Janet stepped between Sam and the glass, cutting off her view. "You of all people should know better than to underestimate Daniel Jackson. He's fighting for his life, Sam. Don't you give up on him."

Sam swiped at her wet eyes with the back of one hand. "Sean Donovan is dead, and so far the samples from the planet have proved useless. We're just spinning our wheels while Daniel grows weaker."

"That's not entirely true. I'll admit that so far I've found no trace of the organism that's making Daniel sick. But our tests have yielded some useful information."

"Such as?"

"Well...that the organism isn't airborne, for one. And that it has a relatively short incubation period. In fact, I'm releasing Colonel Bruster and the rest of SG-5 from quarantine."

"What about Colonel O'Neill?"

Janet turned and looked through the glass. "His continued exposure to Daniel makes the Colonel a bit more problematic." She sighed and shook her head. "Not that he'd go anywhere, even if I did release him."

"What are we going to do, Janet? I can take a team back to the planet, but frankly, I don't know what else to sample."

"I've asked the General to call a briefing in two hours. By then I'll have had a chance to look at the Samposian blood samples and, hopefully, will have an idea how we should proceed."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Janet smiled. "I can always use some moral support--and an extra pair of hands."

Sam looked at Daniel and the Colonel, then tore her gaze from the window. "What are we waiting for?"

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Continued in chapter 3