Chapter 4
"Headache?"
Head tipped onto the back of the couch, eyes closed, Daniel nodded. Jack gathered up paper cartons, noting that while he'd decimated the Mongolian Beef, Daniel had merely picked at his Szechwan Chicken.
"You should eat more."
"I'm not hungry."
"Doc said you shouldn't take the pain pill on an empty stomach."
"I ate a little."
"What, like two pieces of chicken? Daniel, I'm telling you--"
"What part of 'not hungry' don't you understand, Jack?"
Jack gritted his teeth as the first threads of anger wove their way through his patience. He stalked into the kitchen and dumped the cartons in the trash, returning with the prescription bottle.
"Here." He picked up Daniel's hand and shook a small, white tablet onto the palm.
Daniel popped it into his mouth and dry swallowed, barely lifting his head.
Jack grimaced. "How do you DO that?"
A twitch of a shoulder was his only response. Jack rubbed his jaw, studying his friend. Too pale, dark, bruised crescents beneath his eyes, lines of pain along his forehead and around his mouth. Jack winced, recalling vividly the agony he'd experienced upon waking in the infirmary.
Fraiser's instructions were simple and straightforward: Daniel needed sleep, and plenty of it. Keeping him secure and relaxed would increase his ability to re-establish connections. That incredible brain could work either for or against Daniel. Jack's job was preventing his friend from sabotaging his own healing.
"The bed in the guestroom is all made up."
Daniel's lips tightened to a thin line. "I'm not tired, Jack."
"Uh-huh." Not hungry. Not tired. Short, clipped answers delivered in a monotone. Daniel had left his apartment flushed with pleasure over his regained ability to tie shoes. Something since had soured his mood, but Jack was damned if he knew what.
Daniel cracked open an eye. "I'm not."
"Fine. But I gotta tell ya, you do a damn good impression of a guy who needs to be horizontal."
Daniel huffed. "What I *need* is a..." He trailed off and his face got the blank, panicked look Jack had come to recognize. The one that meant he was desperately searching for a word and trying to cover up his discomfiture. "I need coffee."
Cup, Jack wanted to say. You want a *cup* of coffee. Such a simple little word, three measly letters. You're Dr. Daniel Jackson; you speak 23 languages. God, Danny, how could you forget the word cup?
Instead he shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo."
Daniel sat up. "One lousy...One, Jack! You and I both know it's not gonna kill me."
Sensing that things were rapidly spiraling out of control, Jack tried humor. "I'm not crossing the woman who has the ability to inflict pain on a regular basis. You know what Fraiser said."
The attempt to defuse fell flat. Daniel's eyes narrowed. "I know that I'm sick of you all treating me like a child. Worse--a brain damaged child."
It hit him on the raw, too damn close to what he'd been thinking moments before. Jack tensed. Tired, frustrated, helpless--emotions he'd bottled up for Daniel's sake came spilling out.
"Yeah? Well right now that's exactly how you're behaving. I'm here because you're not capable of doing this on your own, Daniel. So you can just cut the crap."
Daniel turned away, white-lipped and shaken. "Sorry."
Shit, shit, shit. Anger evaporated, leaving his stomach churning with remorse. Jack heaved a sigh and sat down beside Daniel.
"That didn't come out the way I meant it."
Daniel smiled, a bitter little twist of the lips that had nothing to do with humor. "Oh, I think you did. And I can't say I blame you. I know there's probably a hundred things you'd rather be doing than baby-sitting me."
"That is so not true."
"Is."
"Is not."
Daniel looked down at his clasped hands. "I don't feel like playing, Jack."
Jack nodded. "Then I'll cut to the chase. You're here because it's my job to help you through this." When he saw Daniel flinch, he held up a hand. "Not because I'm your team leader. And sure as hell not out of some misguided sense of guilt or obligation." He waited until Daniel looked up at him before continuing. "Because you're my best friend. You're part of my family. And that's what families do, Daniel. They take care of their own. Okay?"
Daniel bit his lip, face twisted to stave off tears. "'K."
"Now will you please come clean about whatever is bugging you?"
Daniel lifted his arm, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. "When I took my bag into the guest room, I saw the pictures on the dresser."
Jack waited. When Daniel just picked at his thumbnail, he prodded, "And?"
"I, um..." Daniel cleared his throat. "...saw the one from Abydos. Sha're, Skaara, and me."
"Aaaand?"
Daniel opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head, shrugging Jack's hand from his shoulder. "Don't. Just--" Voice soft and thready.
Jack backed off, giving him space. Daniel cleared his throat again, then rasped, "I can't remember meeting Sha're."
"You can't..."
"It's a blank, Jack. A black hole. I remember Katherine picking me up off the street in the pouring...ah...the...the...I was wet. I...I remember figuring out the glyphs. I even remember going through the 'gate with you, Kawalski, Ferretti. Then..." He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
Jack pushed aside his own tangled emotions, keeping his voice calm and soothing. "Ra? The bomb? Taking a staff blast for me?"
Daniel answered each question with a sharp shake of his head. He looked up at Jack with red-rimmed eyes. "This isn't something I can relearn, Jack, like tying shoelaces. My memories--Sha're's gone. They're all I have left."
Jack thought about Charlie. The way he stuck out the tip of his tongue when he colored. The sweet, clean smell of his skin after a bath and fresh pajamas. The way his laughter sounded like bright, joyous music. Tried to imagine losing even one of those precious memories. Couldn't.
He sucked in a long, slow breath, dug deep, and found a smile. "It's all right." His voice sounded a little unsteady, but sure.
Daniel stared at him, eyes wide. The muscles in his face jittered, anger and bewilderment vying for control. "All right? How...how can it *ever* be all right?"
"Because those memories aren't gone. You just misplaced them." God, he hoped he was right. "I'll help you find them, Daniel."
"How?" Daniel choked out the word, a barely audible whisper.
"Because even though you may have forgotten, I remember. I'll keep them safe until you do."
"You...um...You really think...I'll get them back?"
"I really do."
"Oh."
"Daniel?"
"Jack?"
"Do ya want me to tell you a bedtime story?"
Daniel chuckled, using the same sleeve to wipe his eyes. "Yeah. I guess I do. But you have to promise me one thing, Jack."
"And that would be...?"
"You will NOT start out 'once upon a time.'"
"Killjoy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn't working.
Properly wielded, his wistful yet diffident expression--wide eyes and just a hint of lower lip--had an 80 percent success rate of rendering Jack putty in his hands. With Sam the figure was substantially higher; and as for Teal'c, well, that Jaffa stoicism was pretty hard to crack.
Except this time it wasn't working.
Daniel shoveled down bacon and eggs, casting mournful, yearning looks at the dormant coffeemaker. Jack sat down with his own plate, either oblivious to the signals or doing a damn good acting job.
"Jack--"
"Not gonna happen, Daniel."
Ah. That answered that question.
They ate in silence. Despite the head start, Daniel was still pushing food around on his plate when Jack finished. Daniel poked at a bit of egg gone cold and rubbery, then picked up his dishes and carried them to the sink.
"I have it on good authority that my scrambled eggs are to die for." Jack leaned on the counter, watching him. "So why are most of them currently making their way into the disposal?"
"Whose?"
"What?"
"Whose authority says they're 'to die for'?"
Jack stared at him, lips parted, brow furrowed. "Well...lots of people." He stabbed a finger at Daniel. "Don't change the subject."
Busted.
"I just don't have much appetite right now, okay? If I can ever shake this headache..." He rolled his shoulders, tipping his head right, then left.
"Did you take a pill?"
"It makes me fuzzy."
"So?"
"So I'd rather not spend the whole day sleeping on the...the...laying around." Daniel felt his irritation growing, and the headache along with it. He needed Jack to stop nagging and give him some space. No wonder he kept losing words.
"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Ah, ah--" Jack held up a hand, silencing him. "The walls in this place are pretty thin, Daniel. I know you didn't sleep well last night."
Daniel looked away. 'Didn't sleep well' was an understatement--he'd tossed and turned all night, plagued by a string of nightmares. Keenan. Martice. Desperate souls clinging to his body, refusing to let go. He'd awakened gasping for air and drenched in sweat, a scream caught just behind his lips. Certain he could still feel them burrowing into his brain, drawing memories like blood.
"I'm fine, Jack. I've had nightmares most of my life. It's not a big deal." Please don't push me; I can't talk about this.
As if he'd heard the unspoken plea, Jack backed down. "Hey, it's your choice." He checked his watch. "You might want to get cleaned up. We should leave in an hour."
"Leave? Are we going somewhere?"
"Very funny. Shower, Daniel."
Daniel froze in the act of clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. "I'm serious, Jack. Where exactly are we supposed to be going?"
Jack studied his face. "Fraiser didn't talk to you about this?"
This was not good. Jack's wary, guarded expression clearly indicated he wasn't going to like what came next. "About what?" Daniel ground the words out between his teeth.
"You have your first appointment with the speech therapist today. Eleven o'clock."
He stared, slack jawed for a moment before firmly shaking his head. "No."
"*No*?"
"I'm not... Cancel it, Jack."
Jack ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't."
"For crying out loud, Jack, I'm not asking you to sell secrets to the Russians. Just pick up the phone and call off the damn appointment!" He hated the shrill, whiny sound of his own voice.
Jack went still, as if he were mentally counting to ten. "Look, Daniel. I'm sorry I just sprung this on you. I assumed... Fraiser pulled quite a few strings to get you this appointment. Apparently this therapist is usually booked weeks in advance."
"I don't care. I'm not going." Way to go, Daniel. Why don't you just throw yourself down on the floor and kick your feet?
Jack shook his head, anger creeping into his carefully controlled tone. "Why?"
How could he explain? He didn't understand it himself. Being here with Jack was simple. Safe. He could wrap himself in the illusion that he was normal, just having a bad day. Letting a therapist, a stranger, inside his head would make this waking nightmare real.
"Why? Why didn't anyone ask me how I felt about this? I don't need you, or Janet, or anyone else making decisions for me. Last time I checked I was still an...an..." Mature. Full-grown. Close, but not what he wanted to say. Daniel groped for a word that danced tantalizingly out of reach, his face hot and eyes stinging. "...an...an--Shit!" He slammed the glass he held onto the counter. "I'm not a child." Though the glass held firm, his voice cracked and broke. Horrified, he turned and fled to the living room.
He stood in front of the open window, arms folded around his body as if he could physically hold himself together. Outside, the sun shone from a cloudless blue sky. A young woman jogged down the street, a German Shepherd bouncing eagerly at her side. Someone was mowing a lawn--he could hear the growl of a mower and smell the crisp, green fragrance of fresh cut grass. Everything was humming along smoothly, on well-oiled hinges. Routine. Predictable. Normal.
Why did that feel so wrong?
He sensed Jack come into the room--restless, shuffling movements that communicated frustration as clearly as words.
"Daniel--"
"I don't want to hear it, Jack."
"Well, you're gonna hear it anyway. The only reason your ass isn't chained to an infirmary bed is that I promised Fraiser--"
"I might as well be back there. I thought I was getting away from Janet's hovering. Turns out I just traded up."
Jack grabbed his elbow and spun him around, forcing Daniel to look into eyes filled with anger and compassion but not an ounce of pity. "Am I missing something here? Why the hell are you being so pissy about this? Adult, Daniel. You're an adult. That's what you were trying to say back in the kitchen, isn't it? I have eyes, I see how it kills you every time you reach for a word and come up empty. This woman can help you get better. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Daniel ducked his head. "Of course it is."
He felt Jack's sigh, warm breath ruffling his hair, before his friend turned him loose. "Then I suggest you get cleaned up. Fraiser will never let me hear the end of it if we're late."
Daniel nodded, willing to accept any means of escape. Foot on the first step, he stiffened when Jack spoke again.
"Daniel. I'm sure Fraiser believes this is the best thing for you."
He hunched his shoulders and kept climbing, concentrating on the simple act of placing one foot in front of the next. They always believed it was for the best. He'd learned long ago that what he believed didn't count.
Continued in Chapter 5