When Daniel awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold and his chest hurt. He shuddered, sure that he was back on his living room floor, pinned by metal spikes, and his eyes flew open with a half formed 'Jack!' on his lips. The stark white ceiling above him, and the slow awareness of something binding his wrists awoke him from that old nightmare and into a new one.
"Not crazy," he mumbled, pulling at the restraints while he tried to get the cloud that blanketed his thoughts to clear away. It was too close to the mental hospital for his peace of mind, and his breathing quickened at the thought that he had returned there. What if leaving had just been a dream? Perhaps he had never left. He turned his head when he recognized the sound of voices. A man and a woman in white lab coats approached him.
"The subject appears to be hyperventilating," the man remarked, "Shouldn't we do something about that?" Daniel didn't recognize either of them and found it strangely difficult to understand their words. Trying to latch onto something familiar, he silently dubbed the woman Not-Janet and the man Not-Warner. He wished it were them. Belatedly, he realized that he had missed some of what they had said while he tried to figure them out. Concentrating hard, he managed to make out their words.
"…through the Stargate more times than any human but Colonel O'Neill and Ferretti," Not-Warner was saying.
"Humans!" Not-Janet laughed, "There was a time we wouldn't have to distinguish that fact. If they want something useful from us, they could at least get us the alien for a subject."
"They could at least let us keep our subject," Not-Warner said, frowning slightly, "What do they expect us to find from a few samples? We need more time. We need more subjects."
"They want him for something else," Not-Janet pointed out, "And like you said, he's human. They're more interested in aliens and alien technology." Her tone had a slight pout in it that Daniel recognized well. He used it himself when complaining that he didn't have enough time to study a culture. Somehow, in this case, he didn't empathize.
"Not…subject," Daniel said, struggling to speak, "Daniel." The woman smiled like one would towards a small child who had managed something particularly cute.
"I see the subject is fighting the sedative," she said to her partner. The man frowned, tapping his chart nervously.
"Try upping the dose," he suggested, "So long as he's out of it, they can't take him away for their project." Daniel wasn't sure if it counted as a victory that someone was finally referring to him with something other than 'the subject' when the speaker wanted to drug him.
"That won't do, we need the drugs out of his system to get our samples. We don't want them affecting our readings."
"If we had our way, we'd have samples with as many variables as possible," the man insisted. He started walking towards Daniel with a syringe in his hand. Daniel tried to pull away instinctively, desperately wishing he could do something more than blink at the man. If only he could wake up properly he thought he might be able to speak to them, to get them to see him as more than a 'subject', or at the very least figure out what was going on.
Just as the Not-Warner doctor was about to inject the dose into an IV, more people entered the room. Daniel shut his eyes against the strange, spinning sensation he got when he tried to watch everyone at once. There were too many people, too many voices, and now he couldn't seem to stop shaking.
He didn't want this to be real; he wanted to wake up and have Jack there to tell him it was all a nightmare. He hurt in his chest and he didn't like being tied down and he was cold. Finally, when the voices around him stilled, he opened his eyes again, hoping that his wish would have come true and he'd see Jack standing there.
It was a struggle to focus his eyes, but when he did he found a woman was staring down at him. She was wearing a dark uniform and her stance was formal. Standing over him as she was she seemed enormous and her eyes were cold. Briskly, she turned away from him towards the two people in lab coats.
"You said he'd be awake by now," she said, "We need him awake and aware."
"We said that before you had your goons tackle him," Not-Janet answered, "We've had to repair the damage." The woman considered her coldly for a moment, finally turning back to the uniformed men who had followed her in.
"We'll take him now anyway," she decided, "If he's awake now, he'll be aware soon enough." Then Daniel's restraints were being undone and he was helped to a seated position. There was nothing of softness in the gestures of the men helping him up; they performed the needed task proficiently and that was all. The woman came before him again, addressing him directly for the first time.
"Dr. Jackson," she said, her greeting formal while Daniel hunched over on his bed, gasping at the pain that movement brought. He was suddenly nauseous and he closed his eyes against it.
"I am Colonel Attison," the woman announced, "You have been brought her on a matter of national security." She looked as though she had much more planned to say, probably a very grand and important speech, but at that moment Daniel finally lost his fight against his stomach, and he threw up over the side of the bed. The colonel took a hasty step back, for a moment losing her cold formality as she stared at her now much more colorful uniform.
"Sorry," Daniel mumbled automatically, still feeling ill. The colonel looked him up and down derisively before turning away.
"Get him cleaned up," she ordered, "And take him to holding cell five. We'll proceed from there." Then she swiftly left the room. Even in his drugged up, ill state, Daniel couldn't help but think that it was a very bad sign that none of her men had so much as a grin for their leader's predicament. Either they were just that well trained, or Colonel Attison was definitely someone you didn't want to antagonize.