A/N: Beta'd and reposted with corrections.
By the afternoon when Mackenzie was scheduled to arrive at SGC, Daniel appeared under control. He remembered the panic he'd felt when Janet had touched him and the overwhelming need to escape her, but he pretended to everyone that it had just been a nightmare. A nightmare was no big deal. After all, everyone had them sometimes. Now, he had to gather up every bit of his strength to convince the psychiatrist that it was OK: he had it under control.
"Come in, Dr. Jackson. Have a seat." Mackenzie pointed to a chair across the table from him. Daniel sat where Mackenzie indicated and nodded a hello to the psychiatrist.
"So, why are you here today?"
Daniel's eyebrows raised and his hands dropped away from his face. "Excuse me?"
"Why did Dr. Frasier feel that you needed to see me?"
Daniel glared at Mackenzie. I was tied down and attacked, you moron!
Daniel decided to act mildly upset, but not anxious about the attack – he couldn't bring himself to say rape. That would mean he'd have to admit that he'd completely lost control over his life.
"Oh. She said I had a panic attack this morning, which I totally don't remember. I, um, I do remember being awakened from a nightmare, but in this job we all have nightmares. It's over and I'm fine now."
Mackenzie observed Daniel's knees bouncing up and down frantically, his fingers tapping on the table, and his eyes scanning the room repeatedly. Oh, yeah, he's fine!
"Well, then. What brought you to the infirmary?"
"Oh, come on. Cut the crap. You've read my medical records. You know exactly why I'm here. I was attacked and sustained some minor injuries."
"Attacked? How?"
"I hardly see how that matters. Look, I was injured. I'm better. End of story." Daniel folded his arms across his chest, indicating that he was done.
"I'm glad to hear that. Do you have something you would like to discuss?"
"You're the doctor. What do you think we should talk about?"
"Whatever you want, Doctor."
"You know, this is getting irritating." Daniel shifted in his chair, pulled his glasses off, and began rubbing his eyes.
"Why don't you tell me about your last mission?"
"We came, we saw, we kicked butt, we left." I'm spending way too much time around Jack.
"Daniel. May I call you Daniel?"
"Dr. Jackson, please."
"OK, Dr. Jackson. You said you have nightmares. Can you tell me about those?"
Daniel relaxed a little. He could talk about his nightmares without any problem – well, most of them. "Sure. Sometimes I think I'm in hell…" Daniel filled the rest of the time recounting some of his missions that had seemed like nightmares.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Dr. Fraiser, I don't see a point in pursuing therapy for him at this time." Dr. Mackenzie sat in Janet's office twenty minutes after he'd finished talking with Daniel. "He's not ready to discuss what happened, and until he is, I can't be of help. He, however, appears to be functional and I see no reason to restrict him from remaining an active member of SG1."
"Well, Doctor, I respectfully disagree with you. Daniel is highly intelligent and is quite capable of bamboozling you. I'm not a psychiatrist, but I've been his personal physician and friend for over six years, and he is not himself. I cannot, in good conscience, authorize him to go off world." Janet was in full Napoleonic mode, hands on hips, eyes flashing and drawn up to her full height she almost towered over the seated psychiatrist.
"General Hammond will have my recommendation on his desk within the hour." Dr. Mackenzie was not used to having his opinion questioned.
"He will also have mine." Janet turned and left her office, too angry to stay any longer.
XXXXXXXXXX
General Hammond had taken Janet's recommendation and allowed Daniel to return to work on base, but not off world. No one outside the infirmary, SG1, or the General knew the extent of Daniel's trauma. The rest of SGC thought he'd just received routine, minor injuries. Daniel was able to appear as if nothing serious had happened. His work was up to his usual high standards. Only his team mates recognized the hint of hysteria in his laughter or saw the lifelessness in his eyes.
The day Janet released him from the infirmary, Daniel stopped at the market on the way home and bought the ingredients for a White Russian. He intended to get good and drunk and beer wasn't going to do it fast enough. He figured the lack of taste in vodka combined with the coffee liqueur and cream would help him swallow the stuff.
He pulled into the driveway of his new house. After he had descended, the Air Force had handed him a year's back pay – apparently they considered being ascended hazardous duty, because it was enough to pay for his house outright.
He put away the groceries and popped a frozen dinner into the microwave, then set about making his first White Russian. He followed the directions he'd found on the internet and gave it a tentative taste. Pretty good! I can drink this. By this time his microwave had dinged, so he stood in the kitchen and ate.
Daniel took the vodka, coffee liqueur, and cream into the living room so he wouldn't have to walk back and forth to the kitchen in his quest to get drunk. He also brought a large bottle of water. He knew that if he kept hydrated, he'd have to face much less of a hangover the next day. No need to give Jack a reason to think he'd been drinking alone.
After he mixed his second drink, Daniel sank back into his couch and tried to figure out a plan. He knew he had to keep his drinking secret, but he needed to forget. When he slept he saw himself tied down and helpless, his body not his own to control. He could sleep without dreaming if he could just get drunk enough to pass out.
He had to figure out a way he could be a part of his baby's life. There was a woman out there pregnant with his child and he couldn't be there to watch it grow within the mother. He had so looked forward to seeing Sha're's belly swell with the result of his love for her. Now, someone else's belly would swell as the result of violence that he'd been too weak to resist.
He had yearned to see Sha're's abdomen roll and bounce as their child moved and grew within her. He wanted to hold her and encourage her through the work and pain of childbirth; to be the first person to hold his child, to place their squirming baby into Sha're's arms and watch as their child nestled into her embrace, nursing at her breast.
Now, someone had stolen those dreams away. His child was not going to know her father or the love he had to give her.
As Daniel continued to drink, he formed an idea, which grew into a plan. By the time the bottle was empty and he passed out, he felt he had some control over his life again.