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Way # 71 – Lullaby

There was something wrong.

Daniel knew this instinctively. He didn't know how, he just did. When you experience danger enough times you develop a knack for detecting it. At least, that was his theory.

He was certain the pulsating pain in his skull had something to do with it. It wasn't that bad, just sort of an aching throb. But his whole body felt heavy as lead. His senses felt dulled, his thinking was slowed . . . his reaction time, too. He . . . oh. His breathing. It was a little difficult. Not . . . well, it was just . . . slowed down like the rest of him. Shallow breaths. Needed more . . .

Rock-a-bye baby

On the tree top . . .

Daniel twitched slightly. It was dark where he was. It was cool and dark, and fluid. He could feel a gentle swaying. There were ambient sounds, out there somewhere, but he couldn't focus very well on them.

When the wind blows,

The cradle will rock . . .

He could feel his heartbeat, how slowly it was beating in his chest, and he was a little frightened. It was too slow. There was something wrong . . . it felt too slow. He couldn't quite breathe enough. He tried to expand his lungs further but it was so hard, it was so very hard.

When the bow breaks,

The cradle will fall . . .

That voice in his head was singing to him. It was intimately familiar to him. The lilt and the way it would sink into coarseness on the low notes. It was pleasing and reassuring. He couldn't see where it came from, though. He couldn't see at all.

And down will come baby . . .

Cradle and all . . .

That fluid sensation again, and a deep creaking sound, followed by a light, airy, whirling sound from all around him. Suddenly he noticed he could feel warmth, clinging to him like a tight sheet around his body. Yes, there was a temperature variation . . . he tried to wriggle, but didn't know whether he was moving at all. In his mind, Dr. Jackson began to grasp the depth of his danger. He was immobilized. His heart rate and breathing were slow and shallow. He couldn't see . . . couldn't move. He was vulnerable. And he might be sick, dying. He had to move.

His mind cried out to move, but his body wasn't cooperating. Come on, Dr. Jackson, we can do better than that . . .

Hush little baby, don't say a word

Daddy's gonna buy you a mocking bird.

Daniel stopped his mental struggle for a moment and concentrated on the voice. It had come back, slow and soft, almost as if it were breathing very near to him. He focused on it.

And if that mocking-bird don't sing . . .

Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond-ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Daddy's gonna buy you a looking-glass. . .

Daniel took in a breath. Familiar pathways in his brain shot off, he recognized the song, and the voice. It wasn't in his head, it was outside, very near to him, right next to him. He could feel the breath in his ear.

And if that looking-glass gets broke

Daddy's gonna buy you a billy-goat. . .

Eyelids lifted and pupils contracted in the light. There was only light and shadow at first, but then outlines, and a human figure.

And if that billy-goat won't pull

Daddy's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

And if that cart and bull turn over . . .

Dr. Jackson struggled to take deeper breaths. He was on his back, he could feel that now. And, and there was pressure on his body, on certain points. This roughness, it sort of numbed him, as if it had been prolonged. It wrapped around him, it . . . bound him. But he could move if he could only make the effort . . .

Daddy's gonna buy you a dog named Rover. . .

The name pushed its way to the forefront of his mind at last and he felt his lungs strain under the pressure.

"Ja . . .ck?"

A pair of brown eyes slowly blinked open, like a sleepy owl from its nap, pupils large and shying away from the light. He felt the weak breath,

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,

Daddy's going to buy you a horse and cart . . .

After that his voice tapered off to an unintelligible mumble of the tune. Daniel watched a while in slow fascination until the man spat out triumphantly,

Aahnd if that horse and cart . . . fall down

You'll still be the sweetest . . . baby in town.

A dull pain began to spread from his head to the rest of Dr. Jackson's body. He was actually relieved to feel this. Before, his body had been almost entirely numb. He was starting to get sensation back, though it was long and painful in coming.

Hi Daniel. You're awake.

Daniel tried to move—to sit up a little, turn his head, do something. All he was able to manage was to grip his hand slightly around the rough object surrounding him.

Yeah . . . hey.

He could see Jack though, the man was lying on his side, his head turned to face him. The man looked a little crumpled, his clothes in disarray.

How's it going?

Daniel slowly swept his gaze around. He felt the rope around his limbs experimentally. It was a trap. Jack was very near . . . pushed right into him. The ropes . . . it was a small, confined space.

"I'm not sure," Daniel answered, his voice coming out squeaky and breathy, sounding rather silly in the circumstances.

"Neither am I," the voice replied, and Jack tilted his head backwards just slightly, so he could gaze directly upwards. He answered in a slow, sort of drunken-sounding voice.

"And consssidering I'm about as weak as a kitten I don't think I can chew my way out of these things at the moment . . ."

Daniel followed his upward gaze to the abyss above them, where the woven ropes came together. It was a net. An old-fashioned net woven of heavy plant fibers. Of course.

"Oh." Daniel replied. It wasn't the most brilliant response he'd fashioned, but he was a bit handicapped at the moment.

"So I've been singing to passss the time . . . you wouldn't wake up, I kept saying . . . Daniel, Daniel . . . wake up, Daniel. I, uh . . ."

Jack looked at him as if uncertain whether Daniel really was awake or not.

"I was pretty light-headed. Hard time . . . staying conscious myself. Trying to. Keep myself occupied. Something about. You got to. You know. Not go to sleep when. When. . ."

Jack look frustrated—his usual lack of grace with language was bad enough but this was ridiculous.

"You know what I mean, right?"

Daniel tried to nod but it was too hard, so he answered verbally.

"Yeah . . . yeah. I do, I think. I do. . ."

"Good. Yeah."

Jack's face grimaced, as if trying to move, but he didn't seem to actually move.

"Daniel," he said.

"Yes."

"How much can you move?"

Daniel thought about the question and experimented. He stretched his body out, his feet moved a little, his fingers gripped and twitched, but he couldn't lift his arms. He exhaled a big puff of air from the effort.

"Hardly at all."

Jack made a groaning sound. Daniel brought his gaze back to the man's eyes.

"That's what I was afraid of."

"You?" Daniel asked, not able to work up the effort to make it a more complete sentence. He hoped Jack understood what he meant.

Jack's hand twitched, and then, to Daniel's awe, actually did raise a little. He moved it slowly like every single fiber in his arm felt like fire to move. What seemed like decades later, it lowered, onto Daniel's hand.

He could feel it quivering, hear the hoarse breathing of the man beside him.

"We've been paralyzed," Daniel said as the word came to him in a shot of inspiration. Then he blinked and carried on,

"Only partially. Some . . . plants and animals can naturally produce. Uh. Stuff. Paral. . . Paralyze stuff."

"I see."

Jack didn't see, but he said it anyway. Or maybe he did. It was hard to tell. Daniel pondered this a while. Jack then asked,

"What . . . can it kill you. In high doses?"

Daniel thought about this and agreed.

"Yes. It can. Slow down the circulatory system enough, the nervous system . . . it . . . stops."

"Oh."

Daniel mulled over what he had just said. Ooooh. Oh, yes.

"Hey. That's—that isn't good. We can't let that happen to us."

"Uh-huh. Try tellin' it to the petunias."

Daniel squinted at the man, convinced his stunted senses were hearing him wrong.

"Huh?"

"Petunias . . . purple ones. They're, they were . . . all over the damn place."

Great. So Jack had gone mad then. Total gibberish.

"You're crazy."

Jack looked annoyed.

"Shut up. Don't tell me you don't remember them."

Daniel grunted.

"Of course I don't. What've goddamn petunias got to do with anything."

After that hung in the air, Daniel laughed, giggled an airless laugh, struck at how stupid the notion sounded.

"You freaking bubblebrain. The flowers. It's all their fault. Don't you remember how we got here."

"Bubblebrain?" Daniel echoed, trying to decide if the insult was childish or clever.

"Petunias. We walked over them on the path. There's this weird smell. . ."

"Like dead fish!"

"Exactly!" Jack cheered at Daniel's inspiration. Yes. That smell wasn't something Dr. Jackson could forget. God knows he wanted to.

"You saying. That some flowers did this to us?"

"Yes. God. Do I have to spell the whole thing out?"

Daniel paused, feeling his head go fuzzy and strange. Light-headed. The effort from all this talking was getting to him. His legs ached with sudden knifes of pain. He grunted, his eyes drifting unfocused.

"What's wrong?"

Daniel struggled to pull in more air from his stubborn, tight lungs.

"The pain. It hurts to talk. Move. I want to sleep."

"No," Jack protested quickly.

"Why not?" Daniel whined, closing his eyes, awash with the ache.

"Daniel," Jack hissed. Daniel growled and opened his eyes. He saw fear there.

"You go to sleep you might never wake back up again."

That didn't sound so bad. But Jack was afraid of that for some reason.

"So what?"

Something in Jack's eyes flickered, a stab of fire awakened. His voice came out hot and harsh, so much that he could hardly hear it.

"So what—so what! You—you bastard—you sonofabitch. Where the fuck do you get off saying shit like that?"

"Hey, hey. I don't need to take this from you-"

"You fucking well do too. In case you haven't noticed, we're trapped here together like a pair of salmon in a fishing net waiting to be eaten!"

Daniel blinked. He hadn't noticed. Well, he had, but the fact hadn't sunk in until now.

"We're up high, aren't we? In the trees."

Jack sighed and cast a bleary gaze outward.

"I think so, yeah. Possibly a long ways down."

"The trap, we walked over it. Our weight triggered it, oldest trick in the book. Basic hunting and trapping. We got swung up here and went unconscious."

Jack grunted in agreement to Daniel's recollection. He said gruffly,

"When I woke up I couldn't even tell if you were breathing."

Daniel swallowed his dry throat, trying to fight off the dizzying pain. The conversation was more important.

"I might not have been," Daniel murmured, trying to recall. The memory was merely a pit of blackness. Had he died? Was he alive now?

"Got to stay alive. Got to keep breathing. Got to focus on the detail. The detail. . ."

Daniel watched as Jack's eyes slid slowly shut, his breathing slowing down more, until he couldn't see it. He looked so peaceful. His features not pulled taunt, merely lax as in sleep. So . . . no. Wrong. Something was wrong.

"JACK."

Daniel squeezed his hand, tightly around Jack's hand, the one that had been resting on his. He felt a grip weakly reciprocate and a surge of relief rushed through his body.

"Daniel," Jack returned tiredly.

"What detail. Tell me. What detail to stay alive?"

Jack's eyes slid open, with a glazed look to them. But his thoughts were slowly gathering.

"Lullaby. I'd sing."

"What for?" Daniel pushed.

He could see Jack struggling with it. Something terrible swept over his eyes. He closed them, expression wrenched into that of fierce pain and fear. A tear slid down the side of his face. Daniel didn't know what to do, what was wrong. He clutched Jack's hand as tightly as he could.

"To keep him breathing. God, I . . . I used to sing him to sleep every night. I thought . . . I don't know why."

Jack's eyes opened again gently, his face slowly relaxing, as he sought his friend's gaze out.

"I thought I could keep him breathing. I held him as close as I could. Rock . . . back and forth. I sang to him."

Daniel could feel the raw pain as he comprehended what Jack was speaking. He felt Jack's body irradiating the sensation in waves, the ugly truth, the harsh reality, the twisted fate to befall him. It sunk through Daniel's skin, rushed through his blood. He felt for him . . . his blame. His whole world eviscerated . . . in that one shot.

"I sang the lullabies that would bring him to sleep. I knew. GodIknew, in that moment it had to work. It had to. It just would. He knew them. He knew them. They'd keep him alive. He had to keep breathing."

A long, shuttering sigh, Jack swallowed, closed his eyes, so that tears rolled down his face unhindered.

"I'm sorry. I was just afraid. I couldn't tell. If you were still breathing."

Daniel squeezed Jack's hand and moved his thumb, stroking in a circular motion. Jack's eyes opened and locked with Daniel. He returned the grip, stroking with his own thumb. So much relief in his eyes.

"Keep singing, Jack," Daniel said quietly.

So he did.

"By-low baby

By-low baby

By-low baby

By-low baby-by. . ."

It wasn't anything Daniel recognized, but that didn't matter. Just some random tune, low, lazy, weaving.

". . . Daniel?"

"What."

"What about . . ." Jack swallowed, fighting against the paralysis that was defeating his body. He tried again.

"What about escape. The others . . . think they'll find us up here?"

Daniel thought about it.

"Good chance, I think. They're smart. . ."

"They'll find us. Carter, she'll . . . hopefully we'll still be alive by then."

Daniel licked his dry lips, his gaze a green blur at whatever beyond the net was. The breeze stirred them again and the net swayed gently to and fro, the ropes creaking against the wood they were fashioned to.

"Yeah. Hopefully," he agreed after a long pause. He wanted to try and think of something more they could do, but it was just too much. It was already too much to hold onto consciousness.

Daniel rolled his thumb in a circular motion, one of the few things left he could do in his state. Keeping contact . . . Jack returned the pressure, and motion, slowly articulating his own fingers. Daniel sighed and closed his eyes, to focus on his breathing. He threaded his fingers with Jack's. In a low, gruff voice, Jack murbled the tune over again.

"Daddy still loves you

Daddy still loves you…"

"Daddy still loves you

Though he's gone to war . . ."