Chapter 3

He was dreaming.

He had to be, because why else would Charlie O'Neill be standing in front of him?

He was dressed in a Minnesota Twins jersey, well-worn jeans, and sneakers. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks, and a red baseball cap concealed most of his blond hair. He stared at Daniel with solemn intensity.

Daniel blinked, then rubbed his eyes with shaking fingers.

Still there.

Jack was solid warmth along his back, rhythmic breath ruffling his hair. Daniel turned his head cautiously, hissing when pain flared in his ribs. His friend was out for the count and snoring softly. When he looked back, Charlie was gone.

Daniel shivered, dizzy, nauseous, and very confused. He knew he was hurt and in trouble, but he couldn't remember how or why. Were they off-world? Where were Sam and Teal'c? He squinted against darkness and blurred vision, just able to make out the hulking form of Jack's SUV. It sparked a brief sense memory--squealing tires, Jack's warning shout, the world turning end over end, pain.

Daniel let his eyes drift shut as he pressed the heel of one hand to his throbbing head. It was so hard to think--his brain felt sticky and slow as molasses. His eyes popped open when he felt something brush his leg. Charlie was crouched beside him, one hand curled around his calf.

"Shit!"

Daniel instinctively jerked away from the touch. Agony exploded through his chest, his head, wrenching a scream from his lips. His vision grayed out and a high pitched ringing filled his ears. He tried curling into a ball but a heavy band around his torso prevented it. He panted for air, but the harder he worked to pull oxygen into his lungs, the stronger the paroxysms in his chest.

After what felt like hours, the white noise in his head subsided and he realized someone was talking to him. Eventually he was able to comprehend words and hear the rough edge of panic in his friend's voice.

"...wrong with you, damn it, are you trying to kill yourself? Stop gulping air; there's plenty to go around." When he managed to comply, Jack's voice softened. "That's better. Try to relax; slow it down."

As the pain eased, Daniel cracked open an eyelid. Jack had both arms wrapped around him, supporting him. Daniel looked left, then right, gritting his teeth when the movement exacerbated his desire to puke.

No Charlie.

"You doing better? My back is killing me." Jack's grumble held no real irritation, only worry.

Daniel managed a slight nod and his friend eased them backward until they were once again propped against the tree. Jack rummaged in the pack beside them and a moment later a bottle of water brushed his lips. Daniel's guts did a slow roll.

"Can't."

"Daniel."

"Jack, can't."

Jack sighed but the bottle disappeared. Daniel sensed him raise it to his own mouth, felt the ripple of Jack's throat as he swallowed. He supposed he should feel embarrassed by the way he was clutching the arm that cradled him against Jack's chest, but he was tired and mixed up, and everything hurt too damn much. He turned his face into the softness of Jack's sweaty, bloodstained tee shirt, squeezing his eyes shut against the hot rush of tears.

He was dying. Why else would he be seeing a ghost?

"What in the heck got into you just now, anyway? You scared the crap out of me." When Daniel didn't answer, Jack asked, "Nightmare?"

Daniel closed his eyes. "Something like that."

"Well, don't do it again."

Daniel thought about the way a lock of Charlie's hair had curled over the edge of the baseball cap and the phantom warmth of that small hand on his leg.

"Jack?"

"Right here."

"Do you...do you believe in an afterlife?"

Jack didn't answer right away, but every muscle in his body tensed. "That must've been some nightmare." He took another swallow from the water bottle. "I never used to. I figured we all get one chance at life, no deposit, no return."

"What about now?"

A longer silence, and when Jack spoke, his voice was pensive and a little bitter. "I guess I've seen too many people who didn't get a fair shot the first time around. I'd like to believe there's some cosmic justice for that."

"My parents didn't believe in religion. To them it was just each culture's way of coping with forces beyond its control. When they died, I was pretty lost." He cleared his scratchy throat, grateful when Jack's arm tightened around his chest. "The social worker in charge of my case told me my parents were angels now. That they'd always be with me, watching over me. I didn't really believe her. But I wanted to."

"You're not going to die, Daniel."

It was a moment before his muddled brain could piece together the reason for Jack's quiet declaration. He bit down hard on his lip. "'S that an order?"

"Heck no--you never obey those." Jack patted his chest. "It's a promise. Now shut up. You're making my head hurt."

Inexplicably comforted by Jack's snarky tone, Daniel shut his eyes and did his best to find the elusive respite of sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ah, God. Talk about the morning after the night before.

Jack pried open crusty eyelids and squinted blearily at the rising sun. Every muscle in his body had stiffened, and the pressure of Daniel's not inconsiderable bulk against his chest was exacerbating the discomfort. Jack wriggled a little, but Daniel was a dead weight.

After a lot of squirming, a few curses, and some additional scrapes and bruises, Jack managed to shift Daniel onto the ground, his upper body elevated by a folded blanket. He hauled himself to his feet and carefully stretched, rotating his shoulders and shaking the pins and needles out of his arms. His eyes were repeatedly drawn to Daniel's pale face and the limp hand curled just over his heart.

He knew he should probably wake him--it had been hours since they'd last spoken, and his friend's slumber was disturbingly heavy. On the other hand, while asleep Daniel could escape the pain. And the shadows bruising his friend's eyes and the lines around his mouth testified to just how much pain Daniel was in. Jack sighed. He and Fraiser had certainly butted heads often enough, but right now he'd give anything to have her here, bossing the hell out of him and ruthlessly commandeering Daniel's care. He was out of his depth, and sinking fast.

Jack hobbled a few yards away to take care of business, then tried the cell phone one more time. When the display showed no signal bars and the phone lay dead and unresponsive in his hand, he drew back his arm and pitched it down the side of the mountain.

"Remind me not to...piss you off."

He whirled at the sound of Daniel's voice. His friend was attempting to sit up. Considering his rough gasps for air and the sweat pouring down his face, he wasn't doing a very good job of it.

"Are you nuts? Lay down!" Jack scrambled to Daniel's side as his friend collapsed onto his back with a groan.

"Nature calls. And I don't mean those birds."

Jack grimaced. "I'll help you, but it's not going to be pleasant."

"Neither is...peeing my pants."

Jack stared at him, then snorted.

Daniel scowled. "What? You think...this is funny?"

"No. I just never thought I'd hear Dr. Daniel Jackson, linguist, master of twenty-plus--"

"Twenty-five."

"Fine, twenty-five languages, use the word 'pee.'"

"Language is about...communication. You got the message...didn't you?"

"Well, when you put it that way, I guess--"

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"Sometime today...would be good."

"Smartass."

The familiar banter loosened the knot in Jack's chest. Getting Daniel vertical, however, brought it back with a vengeance. Every method he tried provoked excruciating pain. Though Daniel gritted his teeth and suffered--mostly--in silence, every muscle in his body was rock hard with distress and he clamped his fingers around Jack's arms with bruising force.

After several unsuccessful, gut-wrenching attempts, Jack accepted the inevitable: he was going to hurt Daniel no matter what. Best to be as quick and efficient as possible. If he couldn't minimize the agony, at least he could shorten its duration.

Daniel's dizziness and disorientation was worse. Jack half dragged, half carried him to and from the makeshift latrine, Daniel staggering drunkenly one moment and taking a nosedive the next. The fact that he submitted to Jack's aid without complaint or embarrassment testified more clearly than words to his level of discomfort.

More water and ibuprofen for Daniel, but he stubbornly resisted Jack's urging to lie down, preferring to be propped up against the tree. He waved away the power bar, immune to both cajoling and threats. Jack hobbled around for a few minutes, kicking stray branches and tearing the rejected bar with savage teeth while muttering under his breath about archeologists and their resemblance to a certain farm animal. Eventually his knee reminded him who the real jackass was, and he slumped down beside Daniel.

"I should try to climb out of here." He gazed up the steep incline peppered with loose shale and rock.

Daniel let his head loll to the side. "You'll never make it."

"Neither will you."

"'M tough. Be fine."

Jack observed his friend's sweat-sheened skin and the fine tremors running through his body. Was it just his imagination, or did Daniel look even worse than he had last night? "Daniel--"

"I mean it, Jack. I'd rather take my chances. No...no playing hero."

"You need a hospital."

"I need you. You fall..." Daniel looked away, biting his lip. "Don't want to die alone...Jack. Not...not this time."

Daniel, crumpled on the floor, face streaked with dirt and tears. The smell of blood and charred flesh. "Just go! I'll stay--and watch your back."

Jack sucked in a breath, the memory's edges still sharp enough to draw blood. He ground his teeth together. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you."

Silence sprang up between them, broken only by the rasp of Daniel's breathing and Jack's occasional grunt as he shifted position. He waited Daniel out, certain his friend could not let too much time elapse before his natural verbosity would force him to speak. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and Jack finally broke.

"So, uh, this girl that got snaked--" Jack winced. "--I mean, that Osiris... You two were...close?"

Daniel didn't turn his head, but his jaw tightened. "A million years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Why? Because the women in my life...have a disturbing tendency to end up hosts? Or because you left me...high and dry when I needed you?"

"Those are rhetorical questions, right?"

It was a piss-poor attempt at humor. Jack was certain Daniel would either roll his eyes or snarl at him. Daniel's quiet sigh, followed by silence, made his stomach churn.

"Look, Daniel, I--"

"Do we have to do this now?"

Tuning into his own anger was easier than acknowledging the weariness in Daniel's tone. "You got a prior engagement?"

"You're a barrel of laughs."

"I'm just saying we're stuck here. Might as well clear the air."

"Fine. You want to get into this? You got it." Daniel shifted to look at him, white faced with fury and pain. "I'm tired of taking your crap. Not sure exactly when...I stopped being your friend and started...being your punching bag...figuratively speaking...but I've had enough and I--"

"Edora."

"--think it's time you-- What?"

"You just said you didn't know when it started. I'm guessing it was after I got stuck on Edora." Jack looked away from Daniel's slack-jawed stare. "I may be a bastard, Daniel, but I'm not an ignorant bastard. I know what I've been doing."

"You do?"

"'Shut up, Daniel.' Sound familiar?"

"You do." Daniel tipped his head back and squinted up at the tree branches over their heads. "Why then? You're my...I thought we were friends."

"That's the problem." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. God, he hated introspection. Why couldn't they just forget the last year and move on?

"My friendship's a problem? Well I'm sorry. You should've said something."

"Just shut up a minute, all right?" Jack sighed. "The real reason Sara left me was that she got damn tired of the fact that I wouldn't let her all the way into my life. I was so determined to protect her from myself--the distasteful things I'd done, and my own guilt and shame--that I put up barriers to keep her at a safe distance. I didn't trust her enough to let her see it all. I was afraid that if she did, she wouldn't stick around. Instead, I wound up driving her away." He chuckled bitterly. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Daniel didn't answer, but he glanced at Jack from the corner of his eye.

"I trust you, Daniel. All the way. So when this job starts to get to me, when I can't take Kinsey, or the Tollan, or the Tokra, or...or the damn Russians one minute longer, I unload. On you. 'Cause I know you'll swallow all my crap, even when you don't deserve it. Even when it hurts..." He blinked stinging eyes. "Truth is, I'm a selfish son of a bitch. And a lousy excuse for a friend."

Daniel was quiet for what felt like a very long time. When he spoke, he annunciated as if choosing each word carefully. "Then we are still friends. I have to admit...I've wondered."

It never ceased to amaze Jack just how badly words could hurt. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I guess I deserve that."

"I depend on you too, Jack."

Jack heard the rest of the thought as clearly as if Daniel had verbalized it. "I'm sorry I've let you down."

Another silence, then Daniel's tense body relaxed and he leaned heavily against Jack. "You're here now."

Jack's throat was too tight to reply.

Continued in part 4