AN: This chapter was actually the very first part of the story I had written. Kind of an inside joke, if you will.

Chapter Three: Lesions

Jack had entirely given up his pretense of maintaining a semblance of military reserve long before Dr. Fraiser came into the briefing room. Hammond had escaped to his office, saying that he had reports for the Joint Chiefs to finish, although Jack could clearly see the general's chair from his own, and it was unoccupied. Teal'c sat impassively, as always, but he was twiddling his thumbs, which signaled that the Jaffa was practically out of his skin. Sam was writing something down on the papers in front of her, a look of intense concentration covering her near panic. Jack couldn't see exactly what she was scribbling, as it appeared to him upside down, but he thought it might be a list of prime numbered elements and their various isotopes.

Jack was on the verge of making spit balls when Janet could finally be heard mounting the spiral staircase. Hammond, also alerted by the noise, was settled in his chair at the head of the table but the time Janet had taken her seat beside Sam.

"You three are clear," she announced, palpable relief in her voice. "Your blood chemistry matches Esser's and a few of the other children.

"Daniel's on the other hand has been altered." She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "There are some additional protein markers that were also present in the Sanoctem samples you brought back with you."

"Do you have any ideas, Doctor?" Hammond asked, his voice very quiet.

"Well," Janet's professional façade cracked ever so slightly, and she made no attempt to recover it. "The closest Earth disease I can come up with is Porphyria. Sam described the Sanoctem symptoms to me, and they are actually quite similar. Someone with acute Porphyria suffers from chest and abdominal pains, vomiting, personality changes and fits of madness, all of which are triggered by exposure to the sun."

"Is there a cure Dr. Fraiser?" Teal'c asked.

"No. There's no cure. All you can do is keep the patient out of the sun."

"Well that should be easy enough," Sam said. "Our sun doesn't emit the same sort of radiation. All Daniel has to do is never go back."

"Theoretically, yes," Janet agreed. "But that doesn't solve the planet's problem."

"Can you make them sunscreen or something?" Jack asked, his tone and choice of words indicating his relief.

"I'd like something a little more permanent than that, Colonel. Sir," she directed at Hammond, "Permission to begin developing a treatment and preventative measures?"

"Granted," replied Hammond, without missing a beat. "Will you be releasing Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes, but I'd like him to remain on base for observation."

"Right," Hammond nodded. "Colonel, SG-1 is on stand-down until Dr. Fraiser has time to figure out if she can manufacture a cure. Don't go too far away, though. If something comes up with the Sandiem, I want you to be around to handle it. Dismissed."

Hammond went back to his office. Janet had flown out of the room almost before the general had finished talking. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were a bit slower to rise. It had been almost 36 hours since they had last slept, and the tension of waiting for Janet's diagnosis had left them all feeling drained. The time lag made it even worse. Jack felt like it had been eleven o'clock in the morning for hours.

Teal'c excused himself to go and meditate. Sam looked down at her papers as though seeing them for the first time and not understanding why she had written anything in the first place. She tore them in half and threw them in the recycling bin.

"Do you have plans, Major?" Jack asked.

"Yes sir. I thought I might get some blood from Janet and run a few tests of my own," she said. "I'd like to see if I can artificially create the radiation and see exactly what effect it has."

"Right." Jack had absolutely no idea how this would help, but at least it was work. "I'll walk you to the infirmary. I think I'll take Daniel to the mess and make him eat something."

He paused, fixing her with a piercing look that she returned unflinchingly.

"I'll eat something too, sir. I promise."

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"How are you doing, Janet?" Sam asked, as soon as Daniel and the Colonel exited the infirmary.

"I'm fine, Sam." Janet began sterilizing equipment, and refused to meet Sam's look. "Why would I be anything else?"

"Do you really want me to speculate the answer to that question?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. So how are you?"

"Worried as hell."

"That sounds about right. Still, the best person possible is handling the situation."

"Thanks, Sam." Janet set down the towel and smiled. "Was there something else you wanted?"

If Janet wanted to change the subject, Sam would let her. God knew, Sam did it enough herself.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is."

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Daniel appeared none the worse for wear. As Jack marched him to the commissary, Daniel babbled on and on about how amazing it was that the Sandiem had developed their religion without any of the conflict that had spawned on Earth. He hypothesized that it might be in part because all of the Sandiem practiced the same religion to begin with, but maintained that it was still a pretty significant accomplishment. Jack murmured non-committal responses and what he hoped were appropriate intervals, having tuned Daniel out almost before they had left the infirmary.

In truth, Jack was happy that he had his archaeologist back. Having Daniel in one piece and relatively healthy was worth having to listen to spontaneous dissertations about subjects he had no interest in whatsoever. Jack was so focused on winding his spaghetti around his fork that at first he did not realize that Daniel had stopped talking. It filtered gradually through Jack's consciousness that Daniel did not usually stop talking once he got going unless he was forcibly restrained, and certainly not for something so small as a mouth full of food. Jack was tired and his coffee had not kicked in yet, so it was not until Daniel and the chair he sat upon crashed to the floor that he began to register that he might have a problem on his hands.

As soon as the thought sank in, though, Jack was moving.

"Daniel!" he yelled, knowing that it was absolutely useless. He turned to a nearby airmen, who was also on his feet. "You! Fraiser. Now. Somebody else, clear the tables and chairs."

A feeling of cold terror took root in Jack's stomach and began to spread throughout his body. This was not a kind of casualty he could deal with. He knew how to make field dressings and resuscitate someone whose heart and lungs had stopped. He was out of his league, and he knew it. Why had he never asked what to do if Daniel had an allergic reaction and went into anaphylaxis?

For that was clearly what it was. Jack remembered reading something, years ago, when Charlie had been diagnosed with his allergy to bee stings, that told him what anaphylactic shock looked like. Charlie had needed his EP-pen. What did you give someone when you weren't sure what they were allergic to?

Janet burst into the commissary, emergency team hot on her heals, and was shouting for epinephrine before the doors had swung fully open to admit her. Once the anti-inflammatory had been injected, she tried to take Daniel's pulse, but it was fluctuating so erratically that she abandoned the effort. Issuing orders like drill sergeant, she had Daniel's still convulsing form on a gurney and out the door in moments.

Jack stood in the centre of the disheveled floor for a few moments, brain still processing what had just happened. He gave a few half hearted orders to return the commissary to order, and then set off for the infirmary.

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tbc....