Disclaimer: See first chapter

The eight part of "Smashing Realities and the Likes"

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The fist notion Severus Snape had was a rather uncomfortable feeling in his back, shoulders and legs. They were stiff. It was just after he came to this startling realization that he noticed the extreme ad sharp pain emanating from his left arm.

And he remembered.

Damn! He couldn't decide whether to be happy as a bat in hell or simply kill the Muggle and get it done with. After laying for several seconds with the searing pain not lessening he was willing to sacrifice happiness for the latter choice.

Merlin's beard! He had no idea Muggle weaponry could hurt so much, it was almost as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. Almost.

And it was then that he realized he was not alone.

Not five feet away from him were several women and a man dressed in pristine white clothing and wearing some form of semi translucent gloves. His eyes widened. Severus Snape was not afraid of anything, or at least that was what he would tell himself, but he was very uncomfortable being in a vulnerable position surrounded by strangers. Especially strangers that were surrounded by strange metallic objects and unknown liquids. He sucked in a breath and one of the women stepped towards him.

Severus Snape reacted in a way that seemed at the time to be perfectly normal, but in hind sight was probably the worst thing possible to do.

He began to thrash and searched desperately with his mobile arm for his wand only to find that it and his clothing had been removed off of his person leaving him in some sort of night shirt. A most revealing night shirt at that.

The woman in white reacted faster than he had anticipated and was at his side holding a small, thin, vile or cylinder of a substance. The vile like object, he noted with interest, had a long, pointed end to it and looked as if -

Oh no…

No…

He had read about the Muggle ways of injecting a potion into the body or blood stream - jabbing a patient with a device and pumping the liquid in. It was inaccurate in his opinion and not nearly as humane as simply swallowing a potion of your own free will.

But these were Muggles, he should have known they would have found someway to make even potions painful.

The woman, who looked quite plain and had her hair tucked back into a Minerva styled bun, lifted the vile, it was called a syringe in the Muggle book he had read, and pushed the lever on the opposite side of the needle, squirting a small amount of the unknown substance out.

Death by Muggle, he thought serenely as he continued to throw himself about the small table he was upon, it was not the way to go he had hoped for.

No, he couldn't be killed by Voldemort, or Harry Potter, or Dumbledore, he had to be poisoned to death by some stupid Muggle!

Damn! He knew he should had stayed in bed today.

"Stop!"

The woman in white froze as well as Severus when the shout rung out through the room. It was a strange, small woman, also wearing the white apparel these people seemed to fancy so much. Couldn't they ever try on something black? It could be such a nice color too.

"Don't give him anything, no blood, no anesthetic, no drugs at all!" If there was one thing good about the woman, he could at least give her credit for being in charge. She stood at what could have only been five feet tall, over a foot beneath him if he had been standing and yet she had an air of control he had not seen in a woman for a long time. Of course Minerva and Poppy had it, but they weren't really women, they were professors and Medi-witches, they didn't count.

Behind her walked a young man in water logged green clothing.

Daniel Jackson!

Merlin! What the hell was going on!

Maybe once these stupid bustling women left him alone he could have a decent conversation with the man he had ten years ago called a friend. There were several things he had to clear up and the sooner he was able to get away from these Muggles the better.

"Mr. …" The small woman trailed off and Daniel filled in for her.

"Snape." There was something off with the younger man's posture, he was standing in the defensive position that hadn't changed in ten years, arms crossed over chest and head down slightly, but he was much more silent then was usual.

"Mr. Snape," The woman continued, "My name is Janet and I am the Doctor here. If you continue to move around I will not hesitate to have you restrained." At least he could give the woman a name now.

"Daniel here has informed me that you are different, and although I'm not going to agree with that just yet, I thought it couldn't hurt to do a quick blood work to check. You wouldn't happen to know your blood type would you?"

Dear Merlin, what in Porcupine quills was this woman talking about. Blood type? He had read that Muggles thought blood was separated by types, but the logistics of it were unknown to him. That worthless book had been supplied to him by Arthur Weasley, who wouldn't know a Muggle toaster from a door knob.

Remain calm Severus, he told himself as the woman, Janet, he reminded himself, continued with her Muggle medicine blabber. She was no better then that insolent know-it-all Granger. If he had been in a better mood, not just been on another planet and not in the pain he was currently experiencing, he perhaps would have been interested in what was being said, but as it was, he could care less.

It was just the last part of her monologue that interested him, "I'm going to take some of your blood now."

These damn Muggles were off their rockers! And Daniel Jackson was not helping. The man seemed to have regressed back to his teenage years of sulking in the library and was proving to be most unhelpful.

He began to shift uneasily again. This whole Muggle medicine business was not all that reassuring. Yes, he needed desperately to heal his arm, but if these people would simply give him his wand and a little space his mutilated limb would be back to normal in no time.

He tried to explain this and was met with blank stares from the women in white and an annoyed one from Janet. She seemed to think he was joking.

And Daniel stood there looking blankly at the wall. Good peacock feather, what was wrong with the man! And a feeling of worry over came his uneasy stomach. What if he was ill? Wounded in some way? What had these people done to his nephew! Damn the Muggles!

Severus tried to sit up and was immediately shoved down against the white sheets of the table, which he realized was really not a table at all, but a movable sort of bed. As he struggled roughly against the firm hands in an attempt to escape - partially for his own health and partially for that of his nephew, his wrists - his right at least - and ankles were bound by some sort of Muggle version of the binding spell, the leather and cloth lashing his limbs down. Another, larger clasp was fastened tightly across his chest and the Potions Master found himself, much to his distaste, subdued.

It was the doctor, Janet, who came at him this time with a syringe, although this time it was empty and she had a try full of other devices he was sure were meant to cause him pain.

These Muggles had clearly gone completely off their rockers.

She eased the sharp point of the vile into one of the veins in his right arm and he flinched. He could writhe without screams under the Cruciatus for over a minute, but these Muggle devices were much more dangerous.

He closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to bite his lip. That was a sign of weakness, something you did not show to the enemy, Muggle or otherwise.

So instead of thinking of the foreign object now imbedded in his arm he thought about the one thing he could find peace in these days.

Potions.

The Boil Cure Potion, he recited silently, is made up of the ingredients dried nettles, crushed snake fangs, stewed horned slugs, and porcupine quills of course added once the cauldron is off the fire. It was easy and simple. He taught it to first years even though the bumbling children couldn't have made it if their lives depended on it.

The first vile was full now, and the insane doctor slipped it's cartridge out and stuck another one in. Apparently a good deal of blood was needed. As if he hadn't lost enough as it was.

Polyjuice Potion, he continued, was made of the following ingredients: lacewing flies stewed twenty-one days, leaches, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed picked during the full moon, boomslang skin, and last but not least, a small bit of the man or woman you wished to become. Severus Snape hated this potion with a vengeance, it was the cause of much of his pain and altogether a pathetic way of deceiving one. If you wanted something to happen, why do it by stealing an identity? Altogether it was just a sloppy way of deception.

The Muggle doctor took out the second cartridge and slowly pulled out the metal tip of the syringe and gave him a smile only a doctor or a medi-witch could give. That insane sort of smile that made you either wish you were dead or she was. But it defiantly did not make you feel happy to be in their care. So he tried the only thing he could think of. He looked to Daniel.

"Don't just stand there, stop this maniacal woman before she kills me!"

His plea was not quite as effective as he would have liked to hope for. Daniel stared at the off white wall behind Severus for a moment before replying.

"She needs your blood to see if giving you medicine is safe." His nephew's voice was cold and detached and made the Potions Master once again think of some sort of mind control or illness. If those Muggles had done anything to the young man there would be hell to pay.

The doctor, Janet, nodded her head to Daniel and walked away with the tray of blood. The other women followed her out as well as the man.

Severus released a pain filled sigh and felt himself relax. That doctor was worse than Poppy!

That left him, laying strapped down to a rolling bed, and Daniel standing listlessly against the wall. What an odd day it had been so far. But there was no time for thinking and the Snarky, Greasy Git came back with a vengeance.

"Daniel Jackson! I leave you alone for ten years and look what happens!" But his statements did not have the desired affect of Daniel blowing up and telling him what he wanted to know. All the younger man did was stare off at the wall. Silent.

"Have they done something to you?" All semblance of the 'Greasy Git' fell away and his previous worry came back. There was something wrong with his nephew.

But the younger man did not answer. The worry for his friend had ebbed away the pain in his arm and he had almost no feeling of it at all. He would have preferred to feel its pain then to look at the shell of his nephew.

The large metal door to the side and behind Daniel swung open and crashed against the wall. The man did not flinch but Severus did, his limbs twitching against their leather bindings. He nervously looked down the rows of white roller beds to find the entire room deserted and himself utterly helpless. His day was not going well. He glanced back to Daniel, but the man still stared blankly at nothing.

And then Severus remembered something. Something of those years past in his first days of teaching.

Daniel and his visions.

They were not like that fool Trelawney's instantaneous visions. Over the course of a day they would slowly overtake him, dulling his senses and eventually sucking him completely into anther realm.

Daniel was having a vision.

Severus Snape almost cried out in happiness. His nephew was not ill, the Muggles had not brainwashed him, he was simply having what looked like his first vision in ten years.

During their time at Hogwarts together they had spent much time researching visions, and not Trelawney's version of them. The longer time between visions - say ten years or more - the more powerful they were.

His thoughts were interrupted as the being who thrust open the door walked through it and Severus once again felt his utter lack of power. It was not his first time being bound to a bed and the feeling surrounding it had not changed.

Through the gloom and darkness beneath the doorway a tall figure stepped through. He, Severus assumed it was a 'he' from the stance, walked confidently forward and stopped next to Daniel. Standing with a green baseball cap pulled over his face and in the same green and black camouflage as Daniel. Severus pulled pathetically against the leather straps and could only watch as the man put his hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"Hey, Danny-boy!"

Oh no…

No…

Not that voice. Anything but that voice…

The man lifted off his cap and silver hair showed.

It was Jack O'Neil. That damn Muggle who had started this whole thing. If that Muggle fool had just stayed home this morning this fiasco would never have happened. He would have spoken with Daniel and none of this would have happened.

Evidently the said damn Muggle noticed the Potions Master's presence. Gray eyes met black ones, both were hard with questions and mistrust. But the O'Neil man apparently had no interest in him and turned back to Daniel. Who was now completely unresponsive.

"Daniel?" The Muggle asked, staring into the face of his friend. Severus felt quite useless and once again attempted to free himself. He of course failed. Daniel said nothing in response to the Muggle. "Danny?" The Muggle shook the shoulder of the younger man but was once again met with no response. He turned angrily towards Severus and stalked over to the foot of the roller bed. Quite prone to anger this one was.

"What have you done to him!?" the stupid Muggle all but shouted at him. Severus scoffed at him but could do nothing but lay there, his only unbound limb a bloody pulp.

"What have I done?" he shot back. If it was anger the man wanted, it would be anger the man got. "I come to see the man for the first time in ten years asking for help, something I am not prone to do very often, and after five minutes talking to me he runs off to another planet where you shoot me! The question is, you insolent Muggle, what have you done to him?"

The radical change in the Muggle was unexpected to say the least. All anger disappeared out of the man and he seemed to deflate in size. "You were drawing a weapon, I didn't have a choice!" Strike that, the anger was back, but in the form of self defense.

Severus let out a cackling laugh and the Muggle backed up a step. "Sadly I must thank you for firing your Muggle weapon at me. It seems you have managed to do something I have been for years trying and failing at. Destroying that damned mark!" The Potions Master laughed again but stopped as he felt the shooting pains run up his left arm.

The Muggle sent him a raised eyebrow. "My friend is over there looking like a zombie and you laugh."

Severus coughed several times, a hacking cough that rendered him unable to speak for several minutes. He gasped as his throat constricted and tears began to stream down his eyes. His right hand clenched and unclenched as he fought for air. He struggled to sit up as he gasped, a wheezing sound emitting from his lungs. Suddenly deprived of all strength he was forced to stare up at the white ceiling and gasp continually for oxygen.

He couldn't breathe!

His right hand clutched at the sheets and his back painfully tried to escape its confines but was only able to move an inch.

Merlin's beard, he couldn't breathe!

He was going to die five feet from his near comatose Nephew… Merlin!

He could feel himself weakening, his arching back falling limply against the roller bed and his fist loosening. Dear Merlin, he really was going to die. His oxygen starved body could no longer support itself and he felt himself cease to struggle.

Severus weakly gasped once, twice before he could no longer even do that.

He lay still, utterly still, his vision of the white ceiling darkening, the green clad man from the corner of his eye leaving his sight entirely. He felt numb. This must be how Daniel feels, he thought detachedly as his suffocating body struggled, when he has a vision.

Then there was a hand on his arm, clutching at him tightly, shaking his shoulders and slapping him across the face.

Severus could do nothing, he could not lift his arm to shake off the hand, he could not even turn his head to look at who it was holding him. He could not even shut his eyes.

Another slap across the face sent his head flying to the side, allowing his darkening sight to see Jack O'Neil standing above him, a worried frown and wide eyes adorning his face. Peacock Feathers! Was the Muggle trying to save him! Severus didn't have the energy to contemplate the odd thought.

He felt something warm against his neck and realized it was the Muggle this time, his fingers pressed against his pulse. Did he even have a pulse?

And then the oddest thing happened. His head was manually tipped back, a hand squeezed his nose shut and his mouth was parted. He could not see what was happening but he had a surreal feeling that it was some insane Muggle form of medicine again. They truly were odd creatures. And a set of lips were planted on his own. Air was forcibly pushed down his throat and into his lungs and he felt a strange pang of understanding flow through him. The Muggle was breathing for him. A very odd concept. A hand pushed his chest down and forced the air back out of him.

And the process was repeated. And repeated. And repeated an innumerable number of times before Severus felt himself once again suck in a breath of his own.

He lay there for what felt like an eternity. Breathing in and out, in and out… all the while wondering what the hell just happened.

Why had he been unable to breathe? The immeasurable pain throbbing from the remains of his left forearm told him everything he needed to know.

It was a failsafe.

Voldemort was not, as much he hated to admit it, stupid. Of course the 'man' would have put some sort of back up plan on his wonderful Dark Mark just incase some insane follower found a way to dispose of it. Seeing as he had not been killed he could only assume that the Dark Mark, or what was left of it, would once again try and kill him. Voldemort was not one to do anything half way.

He made eye contact with the Muggle and anutral thanks was passed along. As much as he hated to admit it, he was now in debt to the man.

The last thing he heard before he fell into an exhausted sleep was, "I'm going to go call Janet, don't go anywhere."

Ha! Where did that Muggle think he was going, he was still tied to the damn bed.

And Severus slept.

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Well now, I do believe that one was longer!

I hope everyone enjoyed a little bit of Severus there. I was going to have it from Daniel's point of view but got suddenly bored so viola! Here it is from Severus'!

Thank you for all the reviews! Each and every one of them was read and appreciated. I don't write responses to them I'm afraid but please, if you have a question I might make an exception.

If you have any suggestions, wishes or questions please write them up in a review and tell me how I am doing. This is my first fanfic so any help you can give me will be much appreciated.

Thank you again!

The next chapter should be up soon - if not it will be up before ten days.