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CHAPTER SEVEN

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"Daniel."

"What?"

Jack closed his eyes and took a breath, reaching deep for a bit of patience. "You need to be quiet."

"I am."

"No---you're tapping your foot."

Daniel obediently stopped the distracting movement then sighed. "Are there even fish in this pond, Jack, 'cause I haven't even had a nibble?"

"Would I ask you to join me on a fishing trip if there weren't any fish?"

"Maybe."

"Daniel."

The archeologist shifted on his deck chair then sighed again and Jack turned his head to hide his frown. The minute Frasier had released his friend from his medical internment Jack had swept him away to his cabin with the promise of sharing his fishing wisdom. Daniel hadn't been too thrilled, but he'd agreed to accompany the older man, packing away some books 'just in case'. They'd arrived the day before to a rain storm much to Jack's chagrin; he'd wanted the trip to be perfect, wanted Daniel to relax under sunny skies, but Mother Nature it seemed had other ideas.

By the evening, the clouds had parted and the sun had appeared to color the sky a brilliant orange pink. Daniel had stood at the pond's edge gazing up and Jack had wondered what he'd been thinking. He'd approached his friend when the sun had disappeared leaving only a sky full of twinkling stars overhead. He hadn't said anything, just stood by Daniel's side in companionable silence, casting furtive glances at the younger man, noting all the remaining physical signs of Daniel's abuse and worrying about the non-physical ones.

Then Daniel had abruptly turned and left, entering the cabin and leaving Jack to wonder what he could do to ease his friend's pain.

The squeak of Daniel's deck chair pulled Jack from his thoughts. He rolled his eyes; the boy just couldn't sit still. His gaze dropped to the archeologist's knee as it started bouncing up and down then Daniel shifted forward in his chair causing the aluminum frame to squeak again.

"Quiet, Daniel---the fish, remember?"

"I'm not even talking, Jack," snapped the younger man.

Jack sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration.

"This is nuts," continued Daniel irritably. "I'm going for a walk." He reeled in his line awkwardly, his torn fingertips still bandaged, then set the pole aside and stood.

"Daniel---."

The archeologist waved Jack off dismissively. "Leave it, Jack---just leave it alone, okay?"

"Okay," replied the colonel knowing full well the 'it' of which Daniel spoke wasn't the discarded fishing pole.

He watched his friend shove his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans then walk away, his head dropped, his shoulders slumped.

"Damn it, Daniel."

The younger man had played everything right. He'd obediently done all he was told including sessions with Dr. McKenzie, then had obediently declared he was fine. But Jack knew from his own personal experience that his friend was quite the opposite. After the Gulf War, Jack had talked with the shrinks, had said all the right things, too, but he'd also let loose in the gym to get his anger out, his gut-wrenching fear. But that wasn't Daniel's way. Daniel needed to talk. Jack hadn't talked to Sara because that would have forced him to really 'feel'---and that had worked for him. Or at least it'd seemed to work for him until the death of his son pushed him too far.

Jack watched Daniel move along the edge of the pond then veer off onto an animal trail. The archeologist had been the one to pull Jack from the brink. The long-haired brilliant dweeb had opened Jack's eyes to living again, feeling again. How, Jack couldn't even be sure, but he'd done it and Jack loved him for it.

The colonel snorted and shook his head at his sentimental thoughts. Daniel was responsible for the downfall of the great and powerful Jack O'Neill as were Teal'c and Carter. His 'kids' were simply the most important part of his life and when one of them hurt, he hurt, too.

He turned back to the pond then the darkening of the sun drew his eyes skyward. A bank of ominous looking storm clouds appeared over the tree tops and Jack sighed; Mother Nature was 'still' plotting against him. He just couldn't seem to catch a break.

By the time Jack had packed up his tackle box, grabbed up the deck chairs and poles, the sound of thunder could be heard booming very close by. He hustled the gear into the cabin then took off after Daniel. The rain had just started when he came upon his errant archeologist sitting at the top of a rise that looked out over the valley spread out below.

"Nice view."

Daniel turned his head slightly at Jack's words. "That's some storm coming in," he commented.

"And you don't even have the sense to come in out of the rain."

"Guess I don't have much sense about anything."

Jack hitched his head at the statement. "Where the hell did that come from?" He moved to his friend's side then knelt uncomfortably.

"Just thinking."

"People don't 'think' on their down-time, Daniel," scolded the colonel then he sighed. "Listen, why don't we get in before the heavy rains hit---get the fire going? We can even talk, you know---if you want."

"I want to watch the storm."

"Okay, but wouldn't it be better to watch it from 'inside' the cabin?"

Daniel shrugged then turned his attention to his hands extended out before him, his elbows resting on his drawn up knees.

"What's that?" asked Jack. He narrowed his eyes to see a tiny line of beads with which his friend was idly toying.

"Sha're's bracelet," Daniel replied. "Or rather a piece of her bracelet."

"I didn't know you had that."

"Kasuf gave it to me after the---the funeral. Other than a few pieces of pottery, it's all I have left of her."

Jack canted his head. "The beads---they're beautiful," he said.

"They're pebbles I found on Abydos. I shined them up then linked them together. It's what I gave her instead of a wedding band. She didn't wear it very often." Daniel smiled softly. "I thought it was because she didn't like it but it was because she loved it so much, she didn't want to lose it."

"Ah."

The rain picked up a notch and Daniel turned his face up and squeezed his eyes shut as it pelted his pale skin. "I like the rain."

"You do? A boy born and raised in the desert?"

"Everything's fresh after a good rain, Jack---fresh and clean---pure."

Jack frowned. "Pure? I can see the fresh and clean part, but pure?"

The archeologist smiled, his bandaged fingers still toying with the line of beads, his face still upturned. "That's why he needed me to escape, Jack---did you know that? 'Beneath this stone lies a locked door, the key to which lies within the heart and soul, in the purity of the one who uses it'." He opened his eyes and turned to Jack. "Me."

"Daniel---."

"The Chege judged me pure of heart and soul, Jack---me. A man who has done nothing but fail the ones he loves, a man who has killed, who has maimed---."

"Knock it off, Daniel."

The archeologist visibly shivered. "I felt him when he entered me, felt what he felt---it was so cold, Jack, and so dark---and so, so wrong. I watched him use my fingers to tear away the final piece of the stone, watched as he used my hands to press against the symbols for 'heart' and 'soul'. God, Jack, I can still feel him inside me." He shivered again more violently. "I don't know how I got out with that monster---." He faltered and shook his head.

"Your good was stronger than his evil, I guess," Jack concluded.

"But it wasn't or I would have beaten him."

"Daniel, you were hurt, in some serious pain, not to mention sick---."

"I just want---."

Jack frowned. "You want what, Daniel?"

Right before Jack's eyes, Daniel closed down, tucked everything back into that space within him where he kept all his pain and hurt, the space Jack wished fervently he could reach.

"Nothing---its nothing."

"Daniel," pushed the colonel. "Tell me what you want."

The younger man smiled. "I want to go inside," he said simply.

Jack sighed in exasperation then stood and proffered his hand to his friend. Daniel grabbed it and began hoisting himself up, but lost his footing on the rain-slicked grass and fell sideways nearly taking Jack down with him.

"No---the bracelet!" cried the archeologist suddenly. "I dropped it, Jack!" He pushed himself to his hands and knees and frantically scrabbled through the fallen leaves and needles littering the ground.

The colonel squatted and helped in the search, the now heavy rain making it difficult to see as well as turning the spots of dirt into mud. He moved his hands through the debris, but to no avail; the bracelet was gone.

"Daniel."

"No---no it's here Jack---it's got to be here."

"Daniel, we can't even see in this rain," replied Jack. He reached out to grab his friend's arm. "It's gone."

Daniel looked at him with wide eyes. "No---it's all I have of her, Jack. It's not gone---it's here someplace." He took off his water-splattered glasses and tossed them aside then began his frantic search again.

Jack reached and picked up the spectacles, folded them then tucked them into his shirt pocket. He sat back on his heels and watched Daniel's desperate hunt. He watched as the rain fell harder, as the thunder boomed overhead, as the lightening lit the darkened sky---and as realization finally dawned over his young friend's face.

"It's gone," Daniel murmured brokenly. He looked up to meet Jack's compassionate gaze. "I've lost it, Jack---lost her, haven't I."

There was no question in the statement, only the acceptance of finality, of a truth finally being spoken aloud, of a heart finally realizing what the mind already had.

"I'm sorry, Danny."

"What do I do now, Jack? How do I go on?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't have the answers for you, Daniel---God, I wish I did, but I don't."

The archeologist dropped his chin to his chest and fell onto one hip, his shoulders shaking as his overwhelming pain hit him like a physical blow. Jack moved forward and took his friend into his embrace and as Daniel openly wept, he whispered comforting words against the young man's soaked hair.

And the rain simply didn't matter anymore.

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Daniel awoke slowly to the sounds of birds chirping. He opened his eyes then quickly squeezed them shut as the light of the afternoon sun ramped up the incessant throbbing behind them. He hardly had any memory of Jack carefully guiding him back to the cabin through the earlier storm, such was the depth of his exhaustion, but he did remember clearly the older man stripping him out of his wet clothes then helping him into bed. He'd fallen asleep quickly, aware of only the weight of the man sitting up next to him and the warm hand resting on his shoulder.

The archeologist opened his eyes again then sat up. He turned to the bedside table to see a glass of water and two aspirin waiting next to his glasses. He swallowed the pills and finished off the water, put his glasses on then slipped out from beneath the covers. He padded across the small rustic room to fish a pair of sweats and a flannel shirt from his duffel bag.

After dressing, Daniel pulled on his socks then exited the room, making his way into the kitchen. He called out for Jack but heard no response, no movement in the cabin other than his own. He found his boots by the front door and put them on leaving the laces undone then walked out onto the front porch. He narrowed his eyes against the sun, his head still throbbing, and moved around the corner of the cabin to see Jack sitting on the little pier in a deck chair, his head tipped back, his legs splayed out before him. Daniel couldn't help the small smile; his friend had set out a second deck chair.

"Hey."

Jack didn't budge. "Hey," he responded. "How you feeling?"

Daniel crossed the small distance then sat in the chair next to the colonel. "Fine," he replied automatically.

"Bet your head hurts like a son of a bitch."

"Yeah---yeah it does. Thanks for the aspirin, by the way."

"No problem. Figured you'd need them, what after---well---you know." Jack squinted at the younger man. "Are they at least taking the edge off?"

Daniel nodded, casting his gaze off over the pond. "I'm sorry I fell apart on you, Jack."

The colonel straightened in his chair. "Seems like you needed it."

"Guess so---thanks."

"What are friends for if not to snot and bawl on?"

The archeologist snorted.

"Hey, look what I found."

Daniel's eyes widened as Jack dangled the line of beads in front of his face and he took it with his shaking hand.

"You were down for the count so when the storm passed, I went back to look for it. Found it tucked up beneath a bush."

The younger man squeezed the beads in his fist and turned grateful eyes to Jack who just shrugged nonchalantly and looked out over the water.

"Not a big deal, Daniel, so don't make it one, okay?"

"Thanks."

"Yeah, well---you'd have done the same."

Daniel settled back in his chair, the beads still in his firm grip, and turned his face to the sun. He inhaled deeply the scent of the rain-dampened woods and tried to relax. After only seconds he shifted in his chair and sat forward catching the amused snort from the man at his side.

"You just can't do it, can you?" teased Jack looking at Daniel askance. "Sit still---be quiet---veg out."

"I can---veg with the best of them, Jack."

"Oh, you 'so' can't, Daniel."

Daniel looked down at the beads he held and shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Okay so maybe you're right," he admitted reluctantly.

"So that would make you---wrong?"

"Jack."

"No, no---let me enjoy this for just a minute, will you. This doesn't happen every day."

"I've been wrong before."

"Oh, I know 'that', Daniel, but when have you ever admitted that I was 'right'?"

"Don't be an ass."

Jack chuckled. "Sorry."

Daniel sighed then lifted his gaze to the trees across the pond. "I'd like to ask you a favor, Jack," he said.

"Shoot."

"Would you teach me to defend myself?"

Jack shifted in his chair. "What? Daniel you're as good with that Beretta as anyone---."

"No," interrupted the archeologist, touching his extended index finger to his lips. "That's not what I mean." He turned to look at his friend. "I want to learn to fight---with my hands. I want to be quicker and stronger---I want to be able to---."

"Kill?"

Daniel looked quickly away from Jack's knowing eyes. "Maybe---I don't know."

"Why?"

"Why not?" snapped the younger man. "God, Jack, I thought you'd be glad I was finally ready to be a---a soldier."

"Is that what you think I am---and Carter and Teal'c? You think because we're soldiers, we're killers?"

Daniel sighed and rubbed absently at his pounding temple. "No, of course not," he replied wearily. "I want to be able to defend myself---to defend you and Sam and Teal'c."

"You do defend us, Daniel, with your gift of the gab---with your words."

"Words didn't matter with Areszeus."

"Ah, so that's it," Jack sighed. "Daniel, from what I've gathered that demonic bastard was stronger than Teal'c. There's no way you could have taken him physically."

"Maybe, but I was helpless, Jack. Helpless to help you---."

"Even though I tried to be, I wasn't there, remember?"

"Not the point. I 'thought' you were there and I couldn't do anything to help you. Hell, I couldn't have helped you if it was Ernest Littlefield holding us in that prison."

"I think you could've taken Ernest."

Daniel turned angry eyes to his friend. "Don't patronize me, Jack."

The colonel put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Whoa there, I'm sorry, okay?" He leaned forward bracing his elbows on his thighs and regarded Daniel closely. "You've never had to kill with your bare hands, Daniel, but I have and so have Teal'c and probably Carter. To kill with a weapon is bad enough, but to feel someone's life end---I mean really 'feel' it end---damn it, Daniel, I don't ever want you to experience that---not you."

"Areszeus said there was nothing like it."

Jack rubbed his forehead. "Geez, Daniel."

The archeologist looked down at the string of beads. "I felt so helpless, Jack. When it was just me, I was resigned to the fact I wouldn't ever be leaving that place, but when he pulled you in, too---and I know it wasn't really you---." He sighed tiredly. "I want to be able to fight, Jack. I want to be able to defend you guys. I can't lose anyone else because---God, I just can't do it again." He closed his eyes and fought to rein in his emotions, taking comfort in the warm hand that suddenly squeezed the back of his neck.

"All right, I'll get you on a weight-training program, do some exercises to sharpen your reflexes, teach you how to render an opponent unconscious, but I won't teach you how to kill someone. I won't do that, Daniel, and don't you ever ask me to."

"Thank you, Jack."

Jack gave Daniel's neck another squeeze then he pulled his hand away and gave the archeologist a nudge. "Don't thank me yet---you don't know how tough an instructor I can be. I'll get Teal'c to teach you some of his Jafitsu---."

"Jafitsu?"

"Yeah, Jujitsu Jaffa-style---geez, Daniel, work with me here."

"Sorry."

"And I'll get Carter to help, too. She's pretty good with those feet of hers."

"I'll say."

Jack leaned back in his chair and stretched his hands up over his head. "You hungry? You slept right through lunch."

Daniel ducked his head and smiled. "Did you fix some of that fish you caught this morning?"

"Good one," Jack retorted. "No, I didn't fix some of that fish I caught this morning. I had PB and J."

The archeologist tossed a confused look at his friend.

"Oh come on, Daniel---peanut butter and jelly? Don't tell me Egypt didn't have peanut butter and jelly."

"We had peanut butter and jelly, Jack, but we called it---well---peanut butter and jelly."

Jack shook his head in fond exasperation then his eyes dropped to his lap where he idly picked at the frayed edge of his over-sized shirt. "You going to be okay?"

"I don't know," Daniel replied honestly. He shrugged. "I hope so."

"Wouldn't it be nice if life was like episodic TV?"

The archeologist furrowed his brows. "You're not going to try to relate our lives to that cartoon show you obsess over are you?"

"I'll have you know that The Simpsons is classic American television, Daniel---top-notch entertainment."

"And that show relates to the SGC---how exactly?"

Jack scowled. "I'm not sure it does. Why?"

"You tell me."

"What?"

Daniel sighed. "You said it would be nice if life was like episodic TV?"

"Oh, right, but I didn't mean like The Simpsons."

"Then why did you bring them up?"

Jack dug the heels of his hands into his eyes then dropped them quickly to stare at Daniel with strained patience. "I didn't bring them up---you did."

"No, I'm pretty sure---."

"Daniel, for the love of---." The colonel rose to his feet. "You see---this is exactly why I don't try to impart my vast wisdom on you. You twist it every which way and---."

"Vast wisdom?" squeaked the younger man. He stood and followed his friend toward the cabin. "Vast wisdom, Jack? Like your vast wisdom that resulted in us catching all sorts of fish this morning?"

"Well if a certain someone who shall remain nameless---Daniel---hadn't been so noisy---."

"Oh, it's my fault you didn't catch anything."

"Yes---yes it is as a matter of fact."

"We didn't catch anything because there's nothing to catch."

Jack reached for the knob on the front door and turned it. "Says you," he retorted.

"Jack," admonished Daniel as he followed the colonel into the cabin then closed the door. He kicked off his boots and padded across the living room behind the older man.

Jack entered the kitchen but stopped and turned back, index finger raised. "Tomorrow morning, Dr. Jackson---if you're nice and quiet---."

"I'll end up with a sore ass from sitting still too long."

"Very funny."

Daniel gave his friend a shove. "Go---I'm hungry---and no BP and J."

"That's PB and J, smart guy," replied Jack with a sideways grin. "So what'll it be? Turkey, tuna?"

The archeologist moved past Jack to pull the loaf of bread from its box. "Tuna sounds good. Probably the only fish I'll be eating while I'm here."

"Ha, ha---you're a real comic, Daniel. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Daniel snorted then turned to watch his friend putter around the kitchen. He glanced down at the bracelet still clutched in his hand and smiled then shoved it in the pocket of his flannel shirt. He looked back up to share a nod of reassurance with Jack; he was okay---for the moment anyway---he was really okay.

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The leader of SG-1 sat up in bed not quite from fear, but from the distinct feeling that something wasn't right. He swung his legs out from under the blankets and stood, the wood floor beneath his feet cold and jarring. Without taking the time to pull on his jeans, Jack wandered out into the hallway. He turned to see Daniel's door standing open, the bed within the room rumpled and empty. They'd shared a good afternoon and evening, their bickering and bantering giving Jack a feeling of normalcy and comfort, but something had happened after they'd turned in to sleep, something that had left Daniel's room empty.

Jack walked down the hall, his senses pitched for any noise, movement or scent. He stopped in the middle of the living room; Daniel was standing outside on the back deck clad only in his sweatpants and tee shirt, his breath visible in the cold air, coming out in quick uncontrolled puffs.

The colonel quickly pulled on his boots he'd left by the front door, grabbed his heavy coat and Daniel's off the rack then eased himself out the back door and onto the deck. He approached his friend slowly being sure to make enough noise to avoid startling the distressed younger man. Gently, Jack put Daniel's coat over the archeologist's shoulders then slipped his own coat on.

"Sorry if I woke you up."

Jack leaned his elbows on the deck railing. "You didn't," he replied. "You okay?"

"No, I don't think I am."

"Nightmare?"

Daniel nodded then slipped his arms into his coat and wrapped them over his chest, his body noticeably trembling. Though the fall Minnesota night was cold Jack knew his friend's reaction wasn't all due to the low temperature.

"It'll just take time, Daniel," the colonel continued gently. "What you're experiencing is normal."

"I saw him---in the room---those red eyes."

Jack clenched his teeth and moved his gaze out over the dark water of the pond. Daniel hadn't really talked in detail about what had happened to him in that prison, but Jack knew his friend's injuries, could recite them by heart, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to fill in the gaps Daniel had left opened.

"We went back to PJ6-877," continued the archeologist quietly. "To blow up the altar, but instead of destroying the prison, it set Areszeus free. He killed everyone I cared about---you, Sam, Teal'c, Sha're'---then he came after me." He sighed tremulously. "Do you think he's dead, Jack?"

"Yeah, I do. But even if he's not, Daniel, he's back in his prison. After we got you out of there, SG-11 put up more warnings around the altar. He won't be able to hurt anyone again."

Jack turned his head to look at his friend when there was no response. Daniel's face was upturned to the stars, the moon's light reflected in his clear blue eyes, his glasses apparently forgotten in his haste to get outside. He wasn't shivering quite as much, but his arms were still firmly wrapped over his chest, his breathing still quicker than normal.

"What did you mean earlier?"

The colonel's brows puckered in confusion. "What did I mean about what?"

"About life not being like episodic TV."

"Oh, that."

Daniel smiled. "Impart your vast wisdom on me, Jack."

"I just meant that what you're going through, it's not something that goes away in a day or so."

"And that relates to episodic TV---how?"

Jack rolled his eyes; did the boy even watch television. "You're not like one of those characters that go through trauma one week then are back to normal the next." Jack waved his hand. "That happens all the time in TV dramas."

"Oh."

"You 'will' be okay, Daniel, you just have to give it time, talk to McKenzie, talk to me, but don't lock it away because it'll just fester and one day when you least expect it, it'll bite you in the ass. You're not alone in this, you know."

"I'm beginning to see that, Jack."

"Good," Jack replied. He straightened his stance then shoved his hands into his coat pockets and stared up at the nightscape. "So you still up for fishing in the morning?"

"Okay."

"You going to be quiet this time?"

"I 'was' quiet. I'm a very quiet person, Jack."

"Yeah---sure you are," retorted the colonel then he shivered. "Geez, it's freezing out here, Daniel."

"You wouldn't be so cold if you'd remembered to put on your pants. Nice look, by the way."

Jack looked down at his bare legs and his untied boots, the bottoms of his plaid boxers showing beneath the edge of his coat. "Yeah, well, I sort of had other things on my mind."

"Passing planes could probably see those legs," added the archeologist.

"Hey!"

Daniel snorted, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"Come on, let's go inside, grab some hot coffee," suggested Jack as he turned to the door. "And yes, I brought plenty of your favorite blend---Carter and Teal'c insisted on it---even if it did put me into some serious debt."

"Thanks, Jack."

The colonel turned meeting Daniel's eyes and he knew the younger man's gratitude was for more than just remembering the type of coffee he liked.

Jack reached up and cupped his friend's jaw giving him a lopsided grin. "Anytime, Daniel---anytime."

Then with Daniel by his side, the colonel walked across the deck and entered the welcoming warmth of the cabin.

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THE END

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