CHAPTER SEVEN

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"Well, from what I can tell, this---secretion stimulates the human limbic system, the emotional center of the brain, if you will, specifically the amygdala and the hippocampus both of which play an important part in ----."

"Ah," interrupted Jack with a raised finger. "Enough with the---medicalese, Doc, is he going to be okay?"

Janet Frasier's lips thinned slightly. "He should be fine once the chemical dissipates, Colonel," she replied. "Until then, his emotions are going to be all over the board."

"What about his hand, Janet?" asked Sam.

"I have a specialist coming in to look at it, but the breaks appear to be clean."

"Hello," Daniel interrupted from the infirmary bed over which his friends were currently talking. "I'm right here, guys."

"You should be sleeping, Dr. Jackson," admonished Janet lightly.

"Not tired."

"You're exhausted, Daniel."

"Perhaps Daniel Jackson does not wish to dream, Doctor Frasier."

"With that secretion thingy still in his system, I would bet money on it, big guy," interjected Jack. He looked down at Daniel. "So, the doc here says you're going to be fine." He looked distinctly uncomfortable, both his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. When Daniel didn't reply, he pulled out one hand and poked absently at an IV bottle that hung just above his right shoulder.

"I am fine, Jack," replied the archeologist. "In fact, I'm fine enough to go home."

"We've already been over this," said Janet with strained patience. "I want you here under observation until your blood work comes back normal and to keep an eye on that cough you've developed."

"How long will that be, Janet?" asked Sam.

"My best guess is twenty-four hours---at least."

Daniel sighed and stared at the ceiling. That meant twenty-four hours of trying to control his out-of-control emotions in an underground room that was already closing in on him. He shivered. He hadn't been in that cold dark prison for very long, yet he couldn't help the feeling of claustrophobia that kept washing over him. Daniel wanted to be where he could see daylight, feel the wind or the rain or the sunshine, he didn't care. He just knew he couldn't remain in the cold gray of the infirmary for twenty-four hours.

"Is he confined to bed?"

"Colonel?"

Daniel's eyes moved from the ceiling to Jack who was regarding him with a knowing expression on his face.

"Can he get up, move around?" clarified the colonel with a wave of his hand. "Go up top if someone's with him at all times?"

"I'm not certain that's wise, sir."

"No one has ever accused me of being wise, Doc," retorted Jack good-naturedly.

Janet sighed in exasperation. "No, Daniel isn't necessarily bed-ridden, but he's physically and mentally exhausted, Colonel. He needs to rest."

"He doesn't look very restful to me."

"That's because he's refusing to take any sedatives."

Daniel sat up abruptly. "Stop it, all right, just---stop. I'm sitting right here. Janet, no offense but I'd really rather be anywhere else but here right now, so if I'm not confined to this bed, I'll sleep in one of the VIP rooms tonight or----maybe I won't—I---I don't know." He scrubbed his good hand through his hair feeling his fingers trembling against his scalp. "God, I don't even know whether I'm coming or going anymore."

Janet's eyebrows puckered in concern. "Daniel," she began.

"I can't be here," he said forcefully. He could feel the panic rising, the cold sweat dampening the black t-shirt he still wore, and a tightening through his chest. A strong hand latched onto his arm and pulled him off the bed and onto his feet. The cement floor was cold even through the bandages wrapped around his bare soles and he welcomed the sensation, giving him something else on which to focus instead of the constriction of his lungs. He could hear voices, people arguing, but the hand held tight and dragged him into the hallway. He was pushed back against a cool wall then forced to bend over and told to breathe.

Daniel gulped in air like it was a precious commodity. "Jack?"

"Right here. Take it slow and easy, Daniel---inhale and exhale."

The archeologist did as he was instructed and after a few minutes the panicky feeling started to fade.

"You okay?"

Daniel nodded and stood straight taking in a good slow drag of air. He turned his head to see Janet, Sam, and Teal'c all at his side looking at him with deep concern. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment when he noticed General Hammond watching him with the same expression over Jack's shoulder.

"Are you all right, Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel did his best to smile reassuringly. "Yes, General. Um, sorry about all that----this," he stammered, waving his hand around uncomfortably.

"Perfectly understandable, son."

Daniel didn't agree and he ducked his head to avoid Hammond's warm eyes.

Janet reached up and squeezed the archeologist's upper arm. "There's a chemical imbalance in your brain, Daniel. Your fight or flight response just kicked into high gear, that's all."

"Yeah, even I know you're not prone to panic, Dannyboy."

Daniel smiled. "Thanks, Jack," he said. He took in another deep breath, still feeling somewhat shaky and disconcerted then coughed suddenly. When the episode passed, he looked sheepishly at Janet. "Twenty-four hours?"

The doctor nodded. "Afraid so," she replied then she put her hands on her hips and regarded him clinically. "I'll let you out of the infirmary, Dr. Jackson, but only if---." She held up a hand, her index finger extended. "You stay on base and someone is with you at all times. I also want to see you every couple hours so I can check your lungs. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal."

"And one more thing, I want you off those feet, which means a wheelchair."

Daniel looked down at his bandaged feet and scowled. "But----."

"No buts, Dr. Jackson. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"I'd take it, son," advised Hammond gently.

"As would I, Daniel Jackson," rumbled Teal'c.

"Okay, Janet. Stay on base and check in every couple hours," repeated Daniel.

"And?"

The archeologist glared at the petite woman before him. "And I'll use a wheelchair," he grumped.

Janet crossed her arms over her chest and smiled with satisfaction.

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Jack sat quietly and watched his friend across the commissary table struggling to keep his eyes open. Daniel reminded the colonel of his Charlie; determined not to fall asleep even though his body screamed at him for just that. The young man lifted his cup of decaf coffee to his lips, took a sip then grimaced, no doubt at the taste. He put the cup back down then tried to focus yet again on the book he was attempting to read.

"You should really try to sleep, Daniel," said Jack gently. "You're exhausted. I'll be in the room with you if you start dreaming." He lifted one hand in a sign of honor. "I swear I'll wake you up."

Daniel looked up bleary-eyed from the book. "You don't know what they're like, Jack."

"You can't stay awake forever, you know."

"I can until this---chemical runs its course."

Jack grunted. His friend was one of the most – no, he clarified – the single most stubborn individual he had ever met. He refused to even step into the VIP room he'd been assigned for fear of another panic attack so they'd spent their time either wandering the corridors of the SGC, Jack behind the wheel, or sitting together in silence in the commissary while Daniel fought tooth and nail to stay awake.

The colonel regarded the younger man, the latter's nose already back in his book. Daniel had suffered from lack of sleep even before the events on the Alaran planet so the smudges under his blue eyes looked almost like bruises to Jack. He was sure his friend had also lost some weight although the over-sized BDUs the young man currently wore made it difficult to tell.

Jack looked askance, puzzling over something. "What DID happen to your hand, Daniel?" he asked finally.

The archeologist glanced at his wrapped hand then looked up and blinked several times. "Um," he began. "Long story actually."

"So---I think we have time for a long story," replied Jack. "Seeing that you're not too keen on resting anytime soon." He leaned back in his chair and heard it creak with his weight. "So spill----what did that rat bastard do to your hand?"

"Um---that rat bastard didn't do anything," explained Daniel. "I did."

Jack scowled when his friend stopped. "Care to elaborate?" he prodded.

"No, not really."

"Daniel."

"Jack."

"Oh, come on, Daniel. We've got nothing else to do and you know as well as I do that you need to---talk." Jack waved his hand in a prompting gesture. "So---talk would ya?"

Daniel sighed and closed his book. "There's really not a lot to say, Jack. I broke my little finger to help me stay focused."

"Uh, well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, buddy, but your HAND is broken?"

The younger man looked down and fiddled with the edge of his book.

"That bad, huh," said Jack softly. "Remembering?"

Daniel smiled hesitantly. "No, actually----that good. Well, that is until---this." He lifted his wounded hand and looked at it. "The memories were so vivid, Jack, so clear it was like I was living all those times again. I could hear my dad's laugh and smell my mom's soap. She loved this special cranberry soap and my dad would order it by the case so she never ran out. I'd forgotten what it smelled like.

"It all was so real and for a little while I was that little boy again running around the digs." The archeologist frowned. "I could have gotten lost in all those memories, Jack – Egypt, my mom and dad, Abydos, loving Sha're."

"But you didn't."

"No. Somewhere, somehow I knew it wasn't right."

"Is that when you broke your finger?"

Daniel nodded, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. "My head started to clear just before---he came back so it didn't really take me long to figure out what he was doing." He looked up, his blue eyes suddenly shimmering with unshed tears. "Those were my memories, Jack, my feelings, the way I felt with my parents, with Sha're. He had no right to take those from me."

"You're right, Daniel, he didn't."

Jack watched as his friend fought to rein in his unhinged emotions. He sat quietly wishing he could offer Daniel some comfort, but knowing the slightest touch would break the dam he was trying so desperately to keep standing.

Daniel gave him a watery smile. "Sorry, I---it's hard to----."

"No need to apologize."

The archeologist let go a steadying sigh. "I---um---broke my finger to try to ground myself. Whenever I felt like I was letting too much go, I'd squeeze my finger and the pain would anchor me."

"Is that why you broke your hand?"

Daniel shook his head displacing a few tears which he wiped at furiously. "No, I, um, broke my hand the last time he came to me. Each time he'd leave he'd stand in the open doorway until the door closed. The last time, he was distracted or something, because he started to walk away before the door shut. It was hard to move, but I knew it was my only shot to get out of there. I grabbed the door and let it shut on my hand."

Jack inhaled sharply and cringed. "Geez, Daniel, that had to hurt."

"Like hell," the archeologist agreed.

The colonel leaned forward placing his elbows on the table and entwining his fingers before him. "So that's how you escaped, you were able to open the door?"

Daniel nodded. "The rest you know."

"Where were you kept? We searched those ruins from top to bottom more times than I can remember."

"I was under the temple, I think, but the entrance was a ways away, hidden in the woods outside Teóti. It took me a while to get out then I just headed toward the river. I figured someone from the village would see me."

"Why did you get in the water?"

Daniel smiled uneasily. "Ah, well you see, Tezca told me I'd never be free until my mind shattered or until death came to save me."

"Oh," managed Jack. "Death. You took a hell of a risk, Daniel."

"No, not really, Sam said you and Teal'c were down river. I knew you'd get me out."

Jack picked at the tabletop with his fingernail suddenly uncomfortable at the level of trust the younger man could convey; trust not in the Air Force colonel to do his job, but in the man Daniel called his friend.

"And you did," finished the archeologist.

Jack pursed his lips. "I'm sorry I didn't figure out it was Tezca, Daniel. I fell hook, line, and sinker for all his crap about Kaatzál." He looked up, index finger pointing skyward. "Who I still don't trust, by the way."

Daniel snorted softly.

"Damn it, Daniel, I should have known."

"Jack."

"I let him take you!"

"Jack."

The colonel sighed heavily and dropped his gaze back to the tabletop. "I'm glad he's dead."

"So am I."

Jack raised his eyes to his friend again not liking the tone of voice in his agreement.

"I've never felt that kind of hatred before, Jack---never. I grabbed Sam's gun and I just fired not really even thinking about what I was doing---killing a man in cold blood. I just knew I had to---make it stop."

"He was destroying you, Daniel. You acted in self-defense," stated the colonel adamantly. "Besides, technically it was Teal'c and I who killed him." He regarded the younger man with affection. "I don't think I've ever hated that much either and I wasn't even under his---spell by that time."

"Spell?"

"Yeah, spell---whammy----mumbo jumbo."

"Ah."

Jack watched Daniel silently, noting the crease between his furrowed brows and the tell-tale gnawing of the bottom lip; clear signs his friend was still mulling over something.

"He made me remember the bad stuff, too, Jack," admitted the younger man finally. "Stuff I didn't want to remember."

"I figured as much."

"I remembered Eric's death," continued Daniel. He looked up, his eyes brimming again. "He saved my life, Jack."

"I know."

Daniel sniffed and swiped his sleeve under his nose. "Damn emotions," he cursed. "God, I hate this."

"You know what Frasier said. You'll be back to your normal pain-in-the-ass self soon enough."

The archeologist scowled. "And just when is your sentence up?"

"You mean when do you get rid of me? Ah, now see, here's the thing, Dannyboy, you're stuck with me---gave Teal'c and Carter the night off."

"You didn't."

Jack grinned devilishly and nodded. "Oh, I SO did."

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TO BE CONTINUED