CHAPTER FOUR

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Daniel awoke to rough cold hands on either side of his face.

"Ah, you are awake."

The archeologist squinted up at the face hovering over his, back lit by the flame of a torch that hissed from it's holder near the open door. He couldn't make out the details of the face, but the voice was distinctly male.

"You are quite the find, young one."

"Wh---what?"

"Your wonderful---refreshing emotions, Daniel, so close to the surface, I need only brush your skin to sate my hunger."

"What----what are you doing to me?" Daniel pleaded. He tried to wrench his head away, afraid of the familiar warmth coursing through his body, but the cold hands held firm. He forced his mind to focus on the voice. He knew that voice, trusted that voice.

"You can not fight me, Daniel," chortled the man then he released Daniel's head. He stood and turned to the door, the damp hem of his heavy robe brushing over Daniel's bare feet. "Sleep now, young one and while you do, I will get what I so desperately need."

"Please let me go."

"I can not. Not until your mind shatters or until death comes to save you."

"No, please."

"I will return again."

Daniel watched as his captor slipped through the door. The man turned and grabbed the torch from its holder then looked down at the archeologist. In the swirling light of the flame, Daniel could see the face of a friend smiling down at him. His heart went cold at the sight of the door closing, sending him once again into the darkness of his prison.

"Until my mind shatters or until death comes to save me." The words echoed in Daniel's mind as he whispered them over and over again. He struggled to sit up, but knew it was a waste of time and energy as his body did not want to cooperate. He rolled onto his side and used his hands to pull himself over to where the door had been. Reaching up one hand, he tried to feel for a knob or a latch but his fingers found nothing but cold hard stone.

"Stubbornness appears as a shade of green," murmured the archeologist then he smiled bitterly at the words Kaatzál had said to him. "I can definitely do stubborn."

Using all his will and his strength, Daniel pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall. He took a moment to catch his breath, but he could feel himself getting weaker with every passing second and knew he had to keep moving; he pushed himself to his feet. Then bracing himself against the cold door, Daniel ran his fingers all around the seam of the frame.

"Oh, come on---work with me here," he hissed angrily, but there was no way out, no way to pry the door open. Daniel closed his eyes and slid back to the floor. "Until my mind shatters," he whispered again then a sickening realization dawned and he slowly lifted his hand to his face. "Close to the surface, brush of my skin----oh, God."

Swallowing hard, the archeologist reached and wedged the little finger of his left hand into the seam near the base of the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and wrenched his hand violently. He bit his lip hard against a scream of pain then clutching his wounded hand to his chest, Daniel rolled to the floor on his side and drew his knees up. He focused on the pain and fought against the fear, the feeling of abandonment, of remembering, knowing it was that which his captor wanted.

But he knew it was hopeless.

Soon the tug of sleep was too strong and Daniel felt himself once again swallowed up in memories.

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"O'Neill!"

The colonel appeared from the main chamber of the temple and hustled toward Teal'c. "You find something?"

Teal'c flashed his light downward illuminating the floor of the corridor. "The dirt here has been disturbed," he reported then he knelt. "The patterns appear to be too uniform to have occurred naturally."

"What does that mean?"

"I do not believe the wind that blows through this temple is responsible."

"You think Kaatzál tried to cover his tracks?"

Teal'c stood and shone his light down a dark stairwell. "It is possible," he replied. He gripped his staff weapon and moved down the first step. The smell of fresh earth assailed his nostrils and he canted his head; the walls and the floor were made of stone.

The colonel sniffed behind him. "Smells like someone's been gardening," he commented.

"Indeed it does."

"Strange, I don't see any gardens down there."

Teal'c continued down the dark stairs slowly, shining his flashlight on the dusty stone steps ahead of him. His ears strained for any sound other than the whistle of the wind, O'Neill's breathing, and their echoing footfalls, but there was nothing.

"We appear to have hit a---dead end, O'Neill."

"What?" barked the colonel appearing at Teal'c's elbow. He reached up and grabbed the bill of his cap and jerked it angrily. "Damn it!"

Teal'c shone his light over the pile of rubble then aimed it back at the floor. "Perhaps it was just the wind," he whispered desolately.

"He's here, Teal'c, in the ruins. I can feel it," insisted O'Neill. "Don't ask me how I can, but I can."

The Jaffa regarded his warrior friend for a long moment. The colonel was scanning the fallen stones, running his hands over every inch searching for a way through them or around them. For all his nonchalance concerning his feelings, Teal'c knew without a doubt that O'Neill loved Daniel Jackson, loved his entire team. He knew that the colonel would lay down his life for them without any hesitation at all.

Teal'c knew this because he felt the same.

"There's no way through," spat O'Neill heatedly then his voice lowered to a whisper. "Damn it, Daniel."

"We will search the ruins again, O'Neill."

"You don't think I'm nuts?" asked the colonel looking up at Teal'c with uncertain eyes.

"I trust your stomach's intuition, O'Neill. If you believe Daniel Jackson is here, then we will continue searching until we find him."

O'Neill's brow puckered in momentary confusion then he grinned and shook his head. "That's gut instinct, big guy, and----thanks."

Teal'c straightened his shoulders and then canted his head, a brow lifting in quiet acknowledgement.

The colonel patted the Jaffa's arm affectionately then he turned to ascend the stairs. Teal'c stood and examined the wall of tumbled stone again a feeling that he was missing something washing over him.

"You coming?" shouted O'Neill from above.

Teal'c hesitated, reaching out to shove at a huge boulder. There was no give, no way an old man holding another could move it. He shook his head and turned and began to climb.

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Daniel entered the house with single-minded focus, intent on reading the book on Egypt's pyramids he'd found in the school library that afternoon. He had to finish the book before his foster parents got home. Once they returned from work, he knew they'd have a list of chores for him to do and there would be no time for reading.

The boy tossed his backpack and coat on the pristine sofa then sat on the recliner curling his legs up beneath him. He shoved absently at his glasses as he settled himself then opened the book. The Douglas' dog, Oscar, wandered over and dropped his head on Daniel's knee, whimpering softly. Daniel idly scratched behind one of the mongrel's ears as his eyes scanned the beautiful pictures of a life he'd once known, a life that was no longer his.

A door opening drew the nine-year-old from his book and Daniel realized with a sudden shock that the room in which he sat had darkened considerably.

"Boy!"

Daniel uncurled his legs and stood quickly, closing the book and moving to grab his coat and backpack from the sofa. The Douglas' liked cleanliness, not clutter, he scolded himself. He swallowed hard as Mr. Douglas turned the corner and stopped, looking down at him. He handed his briefcase to Daniel who obediently took it and skittered out of the room to put the little case in its proper place on the big desk in the study. He then hurried to the little room at the end of the hall that served as his bedroom. He let out a sigh of relief, tossed his things in the corner and sat heavily on the mattress that rested in the center of the tiny room.

"Daniel Jackson!"

Daniel flinched at the angry tone. He stood, hesitated a long moment to gather his courage then hurried out of his room and back up the hallway to the living room. His stomach knotted painfully when he saw Mr. Douglas, his hands on his hips, his face flushed, standing over a puddle on the floor just outside the dining room.

"All you have to do when you get home is let Oscar outside!" roared the livid man. "But you aren't even capable of that small task, are you?"

Daniel felt his face warm and he ducked his head in shame. "I'm---I'm sorry, Mr. Douglas, I'll clean it up right now, sir," he stammered.

"No, you won't!" hollered Mr. Douglas. He reached out with a strong hand to grab Daniel's upper arm. "I'm sick and tired of your laziness, boy! Your parents may have tolerated it, but I won't---not anymore!" He hauled Daniel through the dining room, through the kitchen and out the back door. There was a definite chill in the fall air and the boy shivered, both from the cold and from the fear.

"Please, Mr. Douglas. I'll do better----I pro--promise."

The man yanked Daniel along across the backyard barely lit by the setting sun, the boy's arm wrenching painfully as he stumbled to keep up. They stopped in front of the door to the family root cellar.

"Mr. Douglas, please----," begged Daniel brokenly.

The angry man ignored the boy's plea as he bent and pulled open the cellar door. "Get down there," he ordered harshly tugging Daniel toward the wooden planks that served as stairs.

"Please."

Mr. Douglas put his big hand in the middle of Daniel's back and pushed. The boy stumbled, barely catching himself before he toppled down the rickety stairs. He balked and began to turn.

"Do you want to go back?"

Daniel peered up at his foster father with frightened eyes. "What?"

"The orphanage, do you want to go back because that's where I'll take you if you don't get down there right now!"

The youngster could feel his lower lip trembling and he silently chastised himself for his weakness; he wasn't a baby. Tears came unbidden and he fought to blink them away, spilling a few which he quickly wiped away. He didn't want to go back, not ever.

"Well, what's it going to be?"

Daniel swallowed hard, angrily wiped a few more errant tears then turned and made his way into the cool darkness of the tiny root cellar. The door slammed shut before he'd even reached the bottom of the steps and he heard the snick of a closing lock and knew he was trapped.

Tentatively, the boy reached out with one sneaker-covered foot to touch the earth just below the last step. Afraid to go any farther, he sat down and wrapped his arms around his drawn up legs. He dropped his forehead against his knees and tried with all his strength not to cry.

"I'll try to be better, I promise, Dad. I won't fail these people, too. I won't."

The image of his parents appeared behind Daniel's closed eyes and the urge to cry became even stronger. He missed them so much. And it wasn't just their company and their love, it was the fact that he belonged with them, that he was a part of them, and that no matter what happened they'd always be there for him.

But that had all changed the day they'd died.

Daniel's throat hurt with the force of his grief. "No," he whispered to the darkness. "I won't share this with you." He cradled his left hand in his right and gripped his little finger.

"Eat your waffles, Daniel."

The boy looked up to see Nicholas Ballard giving him a stern look across the table of the little diner.

"Grandpa?"

"Now what have I told you before about calling me that? You call me Nick, all right, and nothing else."

Daniel nodded obediently. "Yes, sir," he replied then he gently pushed his plate away. "I'm not hungry---Nick. Can we go now?"

Nick glanced at his wrist watch. "Not yet, now be a good boy and finish your breakfast."

The boy reluctantly pulled his plate back, lifted his fork, and poked at the syrup-soaked waffle. "Mom said that you were on a dig in South America, is that right? Is that where we're going?"

The man nodded. "I'll be flying back this afternoon," he replied.

"I can help you so much, Nick, and----wh--what did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but a dig is no place for a little boy---."

"But I'm not little, Nick! I'm eight now!"

Nick looked around apologetically at the other patrons. "Hush, Daniel, keep your voice down," he admonished.

"I have to go with you!"

"You can't."

Daniel slid from the vinyl covered bench and stood. "I've grown up, Nick, see. I'm big now and I can help you. Dad showed me how----."

"Daniel."

With the mere utterance of his name, the fragile remains of Daniel's world shattered around him. "You're going to leave me all alone?" he asked.

Nick smiled. "Of course not, Daniel," he replied. "Would I do such a thing to my only grandson?"

Daniel just swallowed. Nick was choosing to leave him. His parents didn't choose, didn't want to leave, he knew that with all his heart, but his grandpa was just walking away. He didn't want Daniel.

"You're going to be living in a wonderful place," continued the man. "There will be other children there---."

"I don't want to live with other children," Daniel replied softly. "I want to live with you, Grandpa."

Nick frowned. "I'm sorry, boy."

Daniel dropped his chin to his chest and stared at the floor. He hadn't realized that his mom and dad were his whole world, but they were and they were gone and he had to face his life completely alone. Tears blurred his vision and his throat ached; he was completely alone.

He closed his eyes and stared at the darkness. "These are mine," he whispered fiercely. "You have no right---." He took his left hand in his right and squeezed.

Daniel opened his eyes and blinked. The cold dirt floor beneath him sent a chill through his lethargic body and he shivered. The pain from his broken finger held tightly in his other hand burned up his arm and nausea threatened at the strength of it. He released his injured hand and rested it on his chest then lifted his other to rub at his eyes, surprised to find lingering moisture there. A few remaining tears escaped and rolled down his temples to soak into his hair. The grief was still fresh and raw as if he'd just come from his parents' funeral with Nick, had just been told that he wasn't wanted by anyone anymore.

His right hand sought his left and the pain jarred him back to the reality of the earthy smell of his prison. "Oh, God," he murmured. "Where are you, Jack?"

The archeologist used his good hand to lever himself up onto one hip. His arm shook under his weight and he let his body collapsed back down to the floor. He rolled onto his side facing where he knew the door to be and drew his knees up toward his chest staring into the dark. He was cold and drained to the point of exhaustion and he knew without a doubt that he couldn't fight much longer, he knew he had to find a way out.

The door swung open suddenly and a robed figure stood backlit by the torches lighting the tunnel just outside, the orange glow catching on gray hair.

"Hello, young one."

Daniel looked from the man to the heavy door and he knew what he had to do.

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Samantha Carter was beyond worried, beyond scared. Thirty-six hours had passed since Daniel had been taken from them and there was still no sign of either her friend or of Kaatzál. To add to her fear was the fact that the Stargate wouldn't activate.

After returning to the village with Teal'c and Tezca, she'd tried to contact General Hammond, to ask him to send help, but each time she'd tried to dial out, the Stargate had simply sputtered and died. She'd taken apart the DHD only to find one of the crystals within missing. They'd waited until Stargate Command had activated a wormhole, something she knew Hammond would do if SG-1 failed to return on time. The general had been concerned, but due to the status of the DHD, had sadly been unable to send through a search and rescue team. Sam vividly recalled the sound of O'Neill's voice when she'd told him they would get no help in their search for Daniel.

The major shook herself back to the present. She wandered down the main path which meandered parallel to the river, her destination the village and Tezca's dwelling. The old man had seemed deeply troubled that he couldn't find their missing archeologist and had spent many hours alone in his home trying to sense Daniel's presence. Although Sam had appreciated Tezca's efforts, the colonel had simply rolled his eyes and had continued his search through the ruins of Teóti. The major had helped O'Neill as had Teal'c, but to no avail. She'd decided to return to the village to check in with Tezca leaving Teal'c and the colonel once again searching Teóti for Daniel.

Sam missed her friend. She missed the sound of his voice, the way his wondrous mind worked, but most of all she simply missed the comfort of his presence beside her. He never had to do anything for her to feel his support, his warm friendship. He was just---special, unique---Daniel.

Movement to her right drew the major's attention and she stopped. Sitting on the opposite bank of the river was her friend. He was clothed only in his black undershirt and military issued pants and even from the distance that separated them she could see him shivering from shock and from cold. He held one hand cradled against his chest, his other arm clasped around his drawn up knees in an effort to stay warm. His blue eyes met hers and she saw him mouth her name.

"Stay there, Daniel! The colonel and Teal'c are down river! I'll radio them and they'll be with you in just a few minutes!" Sam stepped closer to the river's edge. "Just stay there, okay?"

"Sam?"

She could barely hear his voice. "Hold on, Daniel!" she called to him.

"He said until death comes to save me, Sam."

"Daniel, you're in shock. Just----what are you doing? Daniel, stop!"

The archeologist had straightened his legs, his feet dipping into the ice cold water of the river.

"Daniel!"

"Until death comes to save me."

Sam watched in horror as her friend used his one good hand to push himself over the bank and into the water. Her eyes met his once again and then he was gone.

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TO BE CONTINUED