AN: I suppose I should pay homage to CSI here, and the episode called "Justice is Served", which was both my introduction to Porphyria and the only episode of the show I have ever thrown up during. The lesions and madness are genuine symptoms of the disease, the blood lust is an embellishment, I made up the tears and the inferno is, of course, straight out of legend.

Chapter 4: Madness

"I only ever saw lesions once," Esser said. It was the first time any of them had spoken since Janet's departure. Jack was still fuming. "It was when I was away on my Ordeal. There was a body in my cave when I got there. Elek had killed himself with his bread knife. He must have done it when the madness hit him. Or, at least I hope he did. There was so much blood."

"What did you do?" Esser's tone was apparently enough to snap Jack out of his sulk.

"I waited for the Dark, and then I buried him."

Teal'c placed a hand on Esser's shoulder, and she smiled half-heartedly up at him. Without really thinking, Jack had set his usual USAF-approved pace. Even with the larger pack, Esser was holding her own. Still, her voice reminded him that this was not a typical USAF mission, even by SGC standards. He stopped walking and signaled for a halt.

"Is there any place remotely defensible around here?" Jack asked. "I don't need cyclopean fortifications, even some trees will be fine."

"Yes," she said after a moment's thought. "There's a cave about half an hour's walk from here. It's empty, or, it should be."

"Should be?"

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I really don't know." Esser took off her pack and sat down on a rock. "We used to use it for the Ordeal, but it's too close to town. There were several...incidents, and now we go further into the hills. But sometimes, when they get desperate, the Sanoctem come this far out of the mountains, so they might have taken shelter from the light there."

"We'll try it, very, very carefully," Jack said. "We'll take a breather and still make it well before night."

Sam dug into her pack for a couple of granola bars and handed one of them to Esser. The girl's pack was a bit of a mess, since it had been almost full even before the addition of Janet's paraphernalia, and they didn't have time for extended excavations.

"What are cyclopean fortifications?" Esser asked, halfway through her bar.

"I–have no idea," Jack admitted.

Sam covered a smile.

"According to Daniel Jackson, the Cyclops were a mythical race of giants who lived on Earth," Teal'c informed them "They had a single eye and were monstrously behaved. Any architecture in Greece which is excessive in size has been described as cyclopean for centuries."

"I knew that."

"There's a good story by a man named Homer about a Cyclops," Sam said, her eyes still shining. "Daniel will lend it to you when we get back. Actually, you might even have a similar story here. Our cultures are very similar."

Esser, her mouth full of granola, only shrugged.

"Sierra Golf one-niner, this is Sierra Golf three-niner, do you copy?" The static on the walkie-talkies was a source of fascination for Esser, and she looked up.

"Sierra Golf three-niner, this is Sierra Golf one-niner, we copy. Over," Jack said into his left shoulder.

"What is your position? Over."

"We're – uh," Jack paused. "One moment. Over."

Jack looked inquiringly at Sam who was checking some instrument readings.

"We're five minutes from the rendezvous point, sir," she reported. Esser whispered something in her ear. "About ten minutes from there is the cave we can camp in."

Jack relayed the information along to Major Griff, and picked up his pack.

"Let's move."

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Daniel had always been told that doctors make the worst patients, though how anyone could possibly be worse that Jack O'Neill was beyond him. Janet, however, showed no signs of joining the stereotype. She allowed herself to be poked and prodded with such disregard, that even more of Daniel's red flags went up. He sat in the infirmary, barely understanding the medical jargon flying around his head, worried out of his mind.

Finally, Warner finished his examination and Daniel was allowed to stand beside Janet's bed. The lesions, which had been alarming enough in the daylight of the Sandiem planet, were nothing short of horrifying under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary. They covered Janet's arms with a throbbing mottled red and Daniel could not control the shudder that swept through him. Janet moved to hide her arms under the blanket, but he grabbed her hand and wove his fingers through hers.

"I'm sorry, Daniel," she said quietly, mindful that even though Warner had pulled the curtain, sound carried very well in the infirmary. "I didn't think."

"It's okay." She wished, irrationally, that he would yell at her. "Everything will be okay."

"Take me home."

"I have to talk to Hammond. By the time you've finished your treatment, I'll be ready." He smiled, and her heart broke again. "I don't think Warner wants me here while you're – reacting."

He kissed her and turned to go, but she did not relinquish his fingers. He looked at her questioningly.

"When we get home, we need to talk," she said simply.

He nodded and squeezed her hand. "When we get home."

Janet watched him go, knowing that she as still concealing things from him and feeling horrible about it. She knew it was for the best. When she told him, there was going to be a scene, and she didn't want it taking place in the infirmary. Dr. Warner pulled the curtain back.

"Can I go home now?" Janet asked, her tone almost petulant.

"Dr. Fraiser, I really think you should stay for observation."

"Why? I'm not in pain. I'm not contagious. I won't get any worse." Now she was petulant. And she knew it.

"Janet, your blood hasn't been processed yet."

"I know what I've got, doctor."

"We don't know if the lesions will be different from Dr. Jackson's experience. The might –"

"Dr. Warner," Janet cut him off. "I. Am. OK."

"I'd feel better if I could give you something."

"I'd feel worse if you did. The last time I had penicillin, my anaphylaxis was violent. You know as well as I do what will happen if–"

"Yeah, I do." He handed over her street clothes. "Just stay away from garlic."

"Stakes and crosses too?"

"Get out of here, doctor."

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Dr. Carter's lab was strictly off limits to the janitorial staff. She cleaned it herself when she was Base side, unless certain Colonels had lost recent bets, but when she was off world, the dust gathered.

Not that anything in the lab minded. The computers rested quietly, except the one she had set to compute pi, and the various pieces of alien technology strewn across the lab bench waited patiently for the return of she who poked, prodded and generally re-wired them.

In the approximate centre of the bench sat the last remaining Sanoctem blood sample. It was sealed in a petri dish, awaiting SG-1's return, at which time, Sam would find the sample, and throw it out, as had been her intent.

If one were to be looking at the sample with a microscope right at this moment, one would have noticed a curious thing. The cells were moving. Moreover, they were moving faster. They moved with a greater and greater velocity until their erratic behaviour caused the slightest of tremors in their enclosure.

One would not have needed any technology at all to see the burst of flame which instantly incinerated the sample of Sanoctem blood. In fact, the burst consumed the oxygen within in the dish so fast and burnt out so quickly, that the security cameras in Dr. Carter's lab never saw a thing.

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to be continued….