Again.

He'd done it again, failed again.

At least he'd got what he wanted--no one else was hurt, just him.

And now he had the unexpected, really uncomfortable experience of finding out what it felt like to be a pincushion. Being stuck with a bunch of needles in the infirmary was nothing compared to this. Nothing at all.

Though most of his mind was lost in the agony, one corner kept wondering what had went wrong. And it refused to take all the blame. Max had been so certain that it was Ogham and that it came before the Kalinga that Daniel hadn't even doubted it. Which had been a stupid thing to do. Blindly trusting someone he hardly even knew.

Someone had taken hold of his shoulders. Galen. The saving angel once again, though--once again--trusting him blindly was probably just as stupid as trusting Max. He'd not been sitting with the others at lunch when Max and Galen had had their little exchange, but Daniel had still heard it, had heard Max say that Galen held more secrets than the rest of their crew combined.

"Daniel, I need you to stay still. I'm going to remove the needles and heal the punctures. It's going to take a while, and they're spread so wide that I can't numb it all--Samantha? Do you have any sedatives? Strong painkillers? I could also use a pair of gloves."

Gloves? What for? Daniel couldn't figure that one out. Instead, he concentrated on staying still and catching his breath. This wasn't so bad. It really wasn't. The last time had been a lot worse, had hurt more. He was still conscious, he was still breathing, he wasn't going to die. Not even nearly so. Just a load of needles, nasty, but not that dangerous. Right. Fine.

Ouch. One more needle stuck him, as Sam injected him with whatever it was she'd got.

Ow. One less needle. And another. Galen was plucking them out quickly, as if he was in a hurry. Daniel wondered why he'd be, but didn't come up with anything.

This really wasn't so bad. He was actually starting to believe that. Each new needle that was pulled out only stung for a very short while.

He was all sleepy again, and feeling strangely happy and good. It made no sense. Galen's face was getting blurred, going in and out of focus.

He couldn't really tell if that was because of the wall and the needles, or if it was what Sam had given him. Might be that. They probably had morphine among the medical supplies, unless they had used it up already with the previous injuries... It would perfectly explain the way he felt.

Daniel fought against it. He wasn't going to fall asleep. Then they'd all get overly worried again. He'd show them that it wasn't so bad. He'd hit an easy wall this time. Got lucky.

Now it was Sam's face floating above his.

"Sam?"

"It's going to be okay, Daniel, just a moment longer."

"Sam, 's not bad... 'm okay... Say that to the others... Don' worry..." the words came out more slurred than he'd have thought.

That was it. Mitchell wasn't going to let Jackson anywhere near those walls again. Ever. If that meant they were staying here, then fine. That'd be the unofficial rule number four. That even though Rule One had to be broken, someone had to touch the walls, it wouldn't be Jackson anymore, no matter what.

Though, nasty as the thought was, Mitchell was surprised that this hadn't been any worse. Right, it did look horrible, and probably felt that way too, but it wasn't lethal. He'd figured from the earlier attacks that the punishments were supposed to be just that, they were supposed to kill. So he'd been wrong. For once, that was a good thing.

When Galen had already plucked out all the needles except for five or so, he looked up, straight at Mitchell.

"Cameron? Would you mind bringing over that trash can-chamber pot-device?"

That took Mitchell by surprise, but he just shrugged, said "Sure," and did what he'd been asked.

Galen had been piling the needles on the floor, careful to keep them in one place, away from everyone, so they wouldn't touch anything. Combined with the thick gloves he was now wearing, that really gave the impression that he thought the needles were dangerous. Which was a chilling thought. Maybe Mitchell hadn't been wrong after all. Maybe there was something in them. That was what Galen seemed to think, since he collected the needles, careful not to touch the sharp ends, and dropped them into the bowl. He removed his gloves and put them in as well, and then pressed the button, zapping them out of existence.

Now that Mitchell looked at Jackson, he did seem more than a bit out of it, glazed eyes staring absently at something, smiling vaguely. The few comments he'd made had sounded like he was drunk. But Carter had sedated him so he'd not feel the worst of the needle-removing operation, so that could explain all as well.

Galen had turned to Jackson again, holding that same crystal Mitchell had glimpsed before over him. A moment later, he stood up and walked away, gesturing for the others to follow. Teal'c stayed behind, lingering by Jackson's side, but Galen shook his head to him and showed that he should come, too.

"Now, this is important for us all. So far, I've seen no signs of anything, no poison or infection of any kind. Perhaps there was none. Still, we should all be cautious. I wouldn't notice a virus, except from the symptoms if some show up, so there could still be one. If it's airborne, then we will all have it sooner or later. On the other hand, as far as I've understood, the previous punishments from the walls have only struck a single person, so that might be the case here. Nevertheless, from now on, I recommend that you take care and keep in mind the fact that Daniel could be contagious."

"Do you not think that this should be told to Daniel Jackson himself?" Teal'c asked.

"Actually, I see no reason to tell him. I have means of monitoring him closely so that he won't notice it. If there's nothing, then he'd just be overly worried without any reason. If there truly is a serious viral infection, then there might not be much I can do, and worrying over it will not change that fact. But, of course, it's your call, he is your friend, and you'll do as you see fit."

"See--that's the way he always works. The less you tell people, the better," Eilerson muttered. Mitchell could just guess he wouldn't be going anywhere near Jackson anymore, not until they could be a hundred-percent sure that there was no risk of anyone catching something from him.

"Sir, I've got to say I agree with Galen on this. Daniel's been through enough already, let him just think that everything's all right now," Carter said.

"I disagree, Colonel Carter. He has the right to know of our doubts."

The decision was Mitchell's to make. He'd already made enough bad ones for one day. He did want to protect Jackson, didn't want him to fear some awful disease that might not even exist. But as he tried putting himself in Jackson's position, he figured that he'd want to know.

"I'm with you, Teal'c. We'll tell him. Though maybe we'd better wait a while, wait until he's all himself again. I the mean time, I want someone with Jackson all the time. The rest, just go about your business as usual."

As the funny, fuzzy cloudiness that had taken over Daniel's mind was slowly starting to release it's hold, he asked Sam, his present guardian, to bring that other Ancient diary to him.

Someone had been watching over him all the time, talking something every now and then. He'd answered as best he could, but had mostly ended up rambling incoherently. He hadn't fallen asleep, or at least he hadn't noticed if he'd done that. He was glad he was finally getting over it. It'd just been a bunch of needles. He could've survived it without being sent into the fluffy could plane. Sam had really overdone it. He told her that. She just chuckled, and gave him the diary.

He opened it and read the first page that came up.

Today, I discussed the Veraeda with Arden. He's troubled. Though he and the others who have went through have assured everyone that it works as predicted, that is not entirely true. The control mechanism is flawed, does not work as it should, although it is of the same kind so successfully used in other devices, such as the space-time vessels. Of course, it would be impossible to accurately think of something no one has ever seen, but still, the travelers have found themselves tossed hundreds, thousands, even millions of years forward or backward in time, without wishing to do so. It almost seems as if the Veraeda has a will of its own, for often the travelers have emerged in the room when someone has been sealed inside, unable to get out. Only last time, they found a group of four of our kind, from Avalon, but far younger than us, millions of years in the future, trapped inside, and helped them out just in time.

Daniel couldn't believe his eyes. He read the sentence again, and again. It could mean anyone. Four from Avalon. Avalon was the Ancient name for the Milky Way Galaxy. It could mean anyone, but it also might mean SG-1. Only not in this timeline. In some alternate universe, they might have been saved by the Ancients. In this universe, that was not going to happen. There were no longer four of them, there were six, and the Veraeda was broken. But there was nothing more about that in the text, instead it went on analyzing Arden, his worries, his state of mind. It was very personal. Daniel scrolled on a few pages, and stopped when he noticed a familiar name.

Feiara has still not been able to overcome her feeling of guilt over being here. She knows that she is only a member of the Duodecim since someone needed to take Eufrasia's place. We all know as well as she that she was nowhere near to the Dodecagon when Eufrasia perished. Still, her emotions on the matter are confused. It is also clear that she fears the Veraeda, more than anyone else. Though Arden and Arian have assured her that it is completely safe now, that the accident that took Eufrasia from us was only a part of the development process, she is still doubtful and afraid.

Right. So the device could be dangerous, or had been, at some time. That wasn't all that surprising. Daniel spent a while considering the diary, scrolled a few more pages on. Unlike Feiara's diary, this one contained no exact, scientific data. It was all about people, all about the members of the Duodecim, how they felt, what issues they had with things, or with each other. Apparently whoever had been writing this was some sort of a psychologist, in charge of seeing to the mental well-being of the Duodecim. Or then, maybe just someone extremely interested in people. There was another familiar name, the one he'd often thought about, at the beginning of a long paragraph of text.

Ioannes has been avoiding me. Where several others have expressed concern over the containment, or rather, the way it must be opened and the traps in the walls, Ioannes insists that they should remain. First of all, a large part of the design was his, secondly, he personally enjoys the ever changing puzzle of putting the texts in order, and lastly, he says that if indeed someone should be wise enough to find their way into the Dodecagon in a timeline where it is empty and abandoned, they should have the means to get out. We have not informed many people of the actual location of the Dodecagon. Each device for opening the stargate is accounted for, and is in the possession of someone we deem reliable. It is highly unlikely that anyone should get in, but there is already proof from travel through the Veraeda that it has happened. The way Ioannes sees it is, if someone becomes trapped and cannot get out, then they are not worth rescuing, not worthy of getting out. That it is all right and good that they should suffer and die. This is a side of him that makes me worried. I do not know what is the reason for such hatred of those who are not as advanced as we. He is not willing to speak of this. I have suggested that I might request his suspension from the Duodecim if he continues showing overly violent and destructive thoughts, but he does not care. He knows he has the favor of Ansoi, Ystradwel and Brann, and with such protection, he will never be suspended.

Daniel had pictured Ioannes as someone a bit like himself. This changed that completely. Ioannes was nothing like Daniel. He was the reason these walls were here, the reason they were trapped. Daniel could forget any hopes about finding Ioannes's diary. He wouldn't have left it behind, lying around so that some lower lifeform might pick it up and use his notes to escape the traps he had set. As for this diary, it had offered some interesting knowledge, such as the fact that the Veraeda was thought-controlled, but nothing that would be even distantly helpful with the walls.

"Sam, you think it's all right if I get up and start working again?" he asked, forming the words clearly without the slightest trouble.

"You're feeling normal again?"

"Perfectly normal."

"Then I guess it's all right. Just wait a bit, I'll check with Mitchell first. I think he had something he wanted to say to you."