Saturday, April 17
Reality L583
Jack looked around Daniel's apartment, seeing the life left in abeyance all around him. There was a pile of mail on the dining table that was growing as the days went by. One of Daniel's neighbors collected it for him when he was away. She was a nice old broad, not too nosy, but kept her eye out on Daniel's box to see that it didn't get too full.
He wandered into the kitchen to peer at the things on the fridge door. Daniel had stuck a calendar page up with magnets, and there were little notations in his precise handwriting about his plans. In the square for April 8th, it said, "Lecture, North Hall, 232." The 11th through the 14th were blocked together and just said, "Away." Jack smiled, the mission to PR8-339. Daniel had been really looking forward to that. They'd heard that there was a peaceful culture there that had much to offer in terms of science and culture. Both Daniel and Carter had been excited.
He thumped his head against the door. Of course, that hadn't happened. It was now the 17th and Daniel was in another reality going through God only knew what hell. Opening the fridge he pulled out the expired milk and some leftovers and threw them out. He rapidly gathered up all the dirty dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher and set it going. Then he went to Daniel's room and stripped the bed, tossing the sheets and pillowcases in the washer and starting that as well. He remade the bed with clean sheets.
He knew how much Daniel hated to come home to a messy house, and he also knew that his friend would quite likely not be up to much cleaning of his own for awhile after he came back. Daniel would do the same for him, he reflected as he neatened things up, not moving anything but dirty dishes, clothes or linens. Woe betide anyone who moved an archeologist's papers or books. They'd all learned that lesson early. He gave the bathroom a quick once over, putting out new towels.
When the bedding was done in the washer, he put it in the dryer and started washing the clothes in the hamper. The dishwasher finished and he put the dishes away. Gradually, he got everything done, just making it so that when Daniel did come home, he wouldn't have to deal with too much. A service came in and did things like dusting, but not laundry or dishes much.
He then went and sorted out the bills from the rest of the mail and tucked them into an envelope to take to the accounting office at the mountain. They would take care of making sure that Daniel's power and phone and other things didn't get shut off due to lack of payment.
Finally, with everything clean and put away, he went to the living room and attended to his stated purpose for being here, which was to fetch a book for the Dr. Jackson they had at the mountain. There was a reference, something about Sumerian grammar and syntax, that he wanted to look into for a translation he was working on. This Daniel had proven just as determined to work on weekends as theirs was.
He pulled the book off the shelf, picked up the envelope of bills, and took another look around the apartment. Then he went out quickly, locking the door behind him.
Damn those bastards to hell.
Reality A001
Daniel felt very muzzy, and his mouth tasted vile, like stale cotton. He blinked his eyes open, trying to get them to focus. Above him he saw the ceiling of his prison, and he swallowed with difficulty. He must be sick, or he wouldn't feel so odd.
He didn't remember going to bed, but he was tucked in neatly. He lay there, trying to remember what had happened. There was an odd sound in the room with him and he turned his head to see an array of monitors by the bed. He had an IV tube running into his arm, something clipped to the end of his finger to monitor his oxygen, he felt the itch of electrodes on his chest, no doubt monitoring his heart rate . . . what the hell was wrong with him?
Footsteps sounded in the room with him, and a nurse came over. She bent to check the monitors, then pulled out a thermometer and stuck it in his ear.
"What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing," she said shortly. "You're going to be fine." Then she pulled open the gown he was wearing at the neck and looked down at something on the left side of his chest. He craned his neck to see what it was, but it was too hard to see. He gave up and flopped his head back.
"If I'm fine, why am I hooked up to all this stuff?" he asked after a moment.
She didn't answer, just took up a clipboard, made some notations, then checked other monitors, made a few more notations, and walked to the door. She knocked, then conferred with someone outside. Daniel sat up, and there was a slight pain in the left side of his chest that he couldn't identify. What had they done to him? He didn't recall anything happening that would have necessitated surgery or stitches, so . . .
He looked at the nurse who still stood facing the door though it was closed now. He wasn't waiting for an explanation that was all too likely to be false anyway. He pulled the oxygen monitor off his finger and gently removed the IV from his arm before she turned back to face him.
"Dr. Jackson, what are you doing?" she asked, sounding alarmed.
"Since you won't answer my questions, I'm going to have a look."
"You need to stay in bed until the doctor gets here." Her voice was authoritative, but Daniel ignored her.
He peeled off the electrodes, wincing when they pulled at the fine hairs on his chest. He pulled the blood pressure cuff off his arm and tossed it aside. Then, shoving the monitors aside, he stood up.
"Dr. Jackson!" she exclaimed, moving towards him as he rose. He turned towards her and something in his expression must have alarmed her because she faltered to a stop. Nevertheless, she started forward again a second later. "Dr. Jackson," she said in a firm, no nonsense voice that no doubt got results more often than not, "you really must lie down."
"I will hit you if you try to lay a hand on me."
Her eyes widened, and his tone must persuaded her he was serious, because she stopped altogether. He opened the bathroom door and went in, noticing for the first time that there was no lock. It didn't seem to matter much. He pulled open the hospital gown he was wearing and looked at his chest. There was the expected goopy stuff left by the electrodes, but when he lifted his arm and turned, he could see a small, stitched incision about five inches down from his armpit. It was very small indeed, but he didn't know what it was for, and that alarmed him greatly.
He heard the outer door open and reached into the cupboard, pulling on boxers and a pair of fatigue pants, ignoring the slight pain he was causing himself. He had pulled the gown off and was cleaning the goop off his chest with a washcloth when the door behind him opened.
"Dr. Jackson," said a very familiar voice, and in the mirror Daniel saw Dr. Warner behind him, very concerned. "You really must allow my nurse to tend to you properly."
"What have you done to me?" he demanded, turning around to glare at the man. "Why did you cut into me?"
Warner took a step back from the look Daniel's face, but he didn't back down from his stance. "We'll explain everything to you if you'll just lie back down and let us put the monitors back on you."
Daniel turned back to the sink and started scrubbing at his chest again. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm not interested in being a guinea pig, and if I'm fine, there's no need for monitors."
Dr. Warner put his hands on Daniel's shoulders as if to guide Daniel back towards the bed, and Daniel turned again, giving the man a shove that sent him reeling backwards. He caught himself on the door frame and stared at Daniel in utter shock.
"Please don't touch me," Daniel said. He dropped the washcloth in the sink and pulled out a hand towel to dry his chest off with. Then he picked up the black t-shirt he'd pulled out of the cupboard and pulled it on, ignoring the way it pulled on the stitches as he slid it down his body.
Dr. Warner backed out of the bathroom and he heard him talking to the nurse in agitated tones. Then the door opened again, and Daniel wondered who it was now. The voice he heard shocked him into immobility for a moment.
"I think Dr. Jackson can do without the medical equipment and monitors now, Dr. Warner," said General Hammond, sounding genial. "After all, you said it was a very minor procedure, and he hasn't had any reactions thus far. You can have your nurse watch him from the surveillance room."
"That's hardly enough, sir, I –"
"Dr. Warner, are you questioning my instructions?" The hint of warning in the tone was very subtle, and Daniel could imagine his own General Hammond saying those words in just that way. However, Dr. Warner's reaction was all out of proportion to it.
"Of course not, sir," he exclaimed. "Thompson, get the equipment out of here."
"The airmen outside will help you get it out of the room, doctor," Hammond said. Daniel bit his lip, trying to decide what he was going to do. He turned and looked into the mirror again. The bruises on his face were gone now, and he looked pretty normal, as far as he could tell without his glasses on. They were sitting on the sink, and Daniel put them on. He didn't know what to expect from this General Hammond and that had him badly spooked. This Jack certainly seemed intimidated by him.
After several minutes, he heard the outer door open and close a final time. Then there was silence in the outer room for a long moment. He turned and walked to the door to see General Hammond sitting calmly at the desk in Daniel's chair. A very large man stood behind him at parade rest. "Please, Dr. Jackson, come sit down. We have a few things to discuss."
There was a flutter of unease in his stomach, but he walked across to sit in the chair Jack had brought in while he was sick. He cleared his throat, but could find nothing to say.
"Very good," Hammond said. "I'd like to compliment you on your excellent productivity. Even our original didn't turn out this much work in this short a time."
Daniel blinked at him, uncertain how to react, especially since the thought running through his mind was, You probably didn't lock him in a room twenty-four/seven and give him nothing else to do. After a moment, when it became clear that Hammond expected an answer, he said, "Thank you, sir."
"Now, I don't know how much you've been told about what has happened to your predecessors but you are rather unique." Daniel listened in silence. "By this time, any one of them would have been sporting several relatively serious injuries and multiple contusions. You have been remarkably successful at handling Colonel O'Neill's fits of temper, and as such, we have decided that you will remain."
This, too, seemed to call for an answer, so Daniel said, "I see."
"Good," Hammond said. "Now, you are very productive as a translator, but one of Dr. Jackson's chief strong points was making contact with new cultures. I wish you to carry on in his stead, going on offworld missions. It will take some time for Colonel O'Neill to adjust his notions to fit that plan, but the time will come. In anticipation of that day, we have taken steps to guarantee your cooperation."
Daniel felt his eyebrows raise and he could feel the little incision in his side suddenly very acutely. What the hell had they done to him? "You have?" he said after another pause. He felt like he was dragging a tale he didn't want to hear out of the man.
Hammond smiled, and Daniel really didn't like that expression. If he ever saw it on his Hammond's face, he'd probably run and hide. Here there was nowhere to do that, so he stayed where he was and waited to find out what it was that gave the man such poisonous pleasure. "We have," he said. "It occurred to me that you might find it appealing to simply run away from your team on an offworld mission. It wouldn't get you home, but it would get you away from here." Daniel blinked, hardly daring to move. "To avoid that possibility, and any escape attempts you might be considering, we have implanted a tiny explosive device inside your body, very close to your heart."
It felt as if his heart had actually stopped for a moment as he stared in horror at the man. He forced himself to breathe again and wet his lips. "Are you saying that you put a bomb inside me?" he asked, his voice all too calm.
"Yes, Dr. Jackson, that's exactly what I'm saying," Hammond said. His smile had not abated. "It's radio-controlled and will go off at a signal from a device very much like the GDOs. That device resides in my possession." Hammond leaned back in the chair. "It has a very long range, so when you go offworld, all we'll have to do is open the gate and send the signal. Wherever you are on the planet, you will fall down dead. The explosion, however, will be sufficient only to destroy your heart, not damage anyone around you."
Daniel gulped. "Well, that's considerate," he said. He crossed his arms tightly in front of him, staring fixedly at nothing. They had cut into him to provide themselves with an easy way to kill him and a convenient threat to hold over him.
Hammond nodded, and Daniel had to resist the urge to throttle him. The ape behind him was undoubtedly there to prevent just that. "Now that you understand your situation a bit more clearly, I'll leave you to ponder things for awhile. I'll be back in to talk to you a few times in the next several weeks, and we'll go over my expectations of you in more detail." He rose and looked down at Daniel. "I will, of course, understand if you have difficulty working for the rest of today. Please, take the time off if you feel the need."
If Hammond hadn't suggested it, Daniel probably would have done just that, but with that patronizing tone still ringing in his ears after the general had left, Daniel wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of behaving as if this upset him. He sat down at the desk and focused on the work he had to do. At least he tried to. He didn't get anything done, he couldn't even really see what was in front of him.
Finally, he put his head down on the desk and tried to figure out what the hell he could do. Nothing came to mind. He had a bomb next to his heart, so unless he wanted to die, he had to do whatever Hammond told him to. And Hammond had a ready solution to the lack of a Daniel. He could just send Jack out for a new one.
About a half hour after Hammond left, the nurse came in with food. She seemed very nervous, but he didn't even acknowledge her presence.
When she was gone, he ate the food she had left and put the tray down beside the door, resisting the urge to throw the dishes into the walls. It would be unproductive, and it would give Hammond insight into his reaction to this violation.
He stared at the door for a long moment, his hand clenching and unclenching, then he went to the bed and lay down, glaring at the ceiling. He couldn't stay still for long though. He wound up pacing back and forth fretting and fuming till the lights dimmed. Then he went to the bathroom, changed his clothes and went to bed where he lay awake for hours. His body and mind wouldn't relax for sleep because the last time he'd lost consciousness in this room someone had come in, cut him open and placed a weapon inside him.
Eventually he rolled over on his back and closed his eyes, preparing himself for meditation. He didn't manage to meditate, but the relaxation exercises finally put him to sleep.
Sunday, April 18
Daniel woke up feeling almost panicked. He sat up sharply, staring around, half expecting to find that something else had been done to him. He went to the bathroom and got cleaned up, carefully avoiding soaking the stitches. He'd had enough of those that he knew the rules.
Two weeks. Just shy of two weeks he'd been here, and everything had been turned upside down. He was falling back into a pattern that he'd broken at the age of ten, he'd accepted imprisonment and slave labor without fighting back in any way, and now he had a foreign object inside his body that was designed to kill him.
He climbed out of the shower, got dried off and dressed and walked back out into the room he'd occupied for these past two weeks. He wanted to do something violent, throw something, break something, but it wouldn't make a difference. It would only feel good for a moment, and then he'd be back to misery – and it could get him into trouble.
There were times when thinking was more of a pain in the ass than anything else.
He had just turned towards the bookcase when the door opened. He turned and it was Jack, smiling, a tray of food in his hand. "Good morning, Daniel," the colonel said, walking forward and putting the tray down. "Did you have a nice –"
The rage he felt upon seeing Jack and the cheerful smile that he wore burned away all Daniel's good intentions. "You foul, unmitigated, contemptible bastard!" Daniel growled. Jack stared at him in apparent astonishment. "How . . . why . . . wasn't taking my life, my home, my freedom away enough? You had to go and . . . and . . ."
Jack shook his head and came towards him, eyes wide with seeming concern. "Daniel, what in the hell is –"
Daniel backed off, raising his hands in front of him. "Don't you even claim you didn't know. You didn't even come by day before yesterday, didn't want to face me, no doubt, knowing what was going to happen, knowing what they were going to do to me!"
Jack stopped as Daniel spoke and stared. "What they were going to do to you? What are you talking about, Daniel? What did they do? Who did what?"
He sounded completely sincere, and Daniel found himself believing him. He fought against it, turning his back on the man who had turned his life upside down, and who, at the moment, looked so incredibly like his own Jack that it made his stomach twist.
"Daniel, seriously," Jack said, coming closer, putting his hands on Daniel's shoulders.
Daniel turned sharply and pushed him away. "Why should I believe that you don't know, Jack? It's more of the same damned thing, another control put on me, another choice taken away!" Jack was beginning to look upset and angry now, but Daniel didn't care.
"Daniel, quit the babbling," Jack ordered, taking a step closer. "I don't know why you're so angry but you're beginning to piss me off here. Either tell me what you're going on about or . . . or . . ."
"Or what, you'll hit me?"
"God damn it, Daniel, who did what to you?"
"Hammond put a bomb in me!" Daniel yelled.
Jack stared at him again, seeming frozen, his jaw dropped slightly open. After a moment, he closed his mouth then relaxed. "Did you just say that Hammond put a bomb in you?"
"Yes, Jack, I did. Do you see where I might be a little pissed off?"
"Why would he do that?" Jack asked. "It doesn't make sense."
"Because he doesn't want me running off when I go on offworld missions," Daniel said. "It's right next to my heart and he can set it off by remote control."
Jack shook his head, and Daniel began to really, truly believe that he had no idea whatsoever about the bomb. "How . . . what . . . ?"
Daniel lifted his t-shirt and showed him the stitches beneath his left arm. "They drugged me yesterday morning and . . ." He stopped, thinking. "That must be why they didn't give me dinner on Friday night. You're not supposed to eat for twenty-four hours before surgery."
"They drugged you?"
"Yeah, it must have been that. I woke up, I started working, the airman brought in my coffee. I drank a cup and a half and passed out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in here attached to five or six monitors, and I think I've had some kind of health collapse."
"Are you sure that isn't what it was?" Jack asked.
"Hammond came in here and told me himself, Jack," Daniel said. "I'm not making this up. Besides, what health problem could I possibly have that would lead them to make a tiny incision under my left arm and yet leave me perfectly normal and functioning later in the same day?"
"Does it hurt?"
"The incision? Yes. The bomb? I don't even feel that it's there. I just know . . ." Daniel closed his eyes and turned away again.
Jack was silent for a moment and then Daniel felt his hands at the hem of his t-shirt. "Strip!" he said.
"What?" Daniel exclaimed turning and pushing Jack's hands away. "What are you doing?"
"If they had you unconscious, I want to see what else they might have done to you. Strip and let me take a look."
Stunned by that thought and even more stunned that it hadn't even occurred to him, Daniel started taking off his clothes numbly. Jack gave him a cursory once over, then said, "I don't see any other cuts or injection points."
Without speaking, Daniel pulled his clothes back on and sat down on his bed, pushing himself back into the corner and bringing his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and sat staring at nothing. These people could do anything they wanted to him, and he couldn't stop them. They had not only taken control of his time and his environment away from him, but control of his body as well. They could drug his food or drink, and the only recourse he had was to refuse to eat or drink which wasn't much of an option. And once he was unconscious . . .
He buried his face in his knees before his tears betrayed him.
"God damned mother fucking son of a bitch!" The words started on a low growl but became a furious shout by the end. Daniel flinched from the sound, tucking in tighter than before. He heard a meaty thunk and guessed that Jack had punched something. He was just glad it wasn't him. He could feel his shoulders shaking and tried to minimize the movement, not wanting to seem weak in front of the other man.
There was silence for a time, then Jack spoke very quietly and very close by. "Daniel?"
"Leave me alone," Daniel growled into his knees.
"No," Jack said, and Daniel felt the bed shift. He bit his lip and tried to hold back the sobs that were shuddering his frame. "Daniel, I didn't know." Jack pulled him into his arms against Daniel's best efforts. "I'm sorry. Hammond didn't tell me."
"I don't care!" Daniel groaned. Jack was rocking him, trying to get him to relax against him. "Let me go, damn you!"
"Daniel, we'll get this sorted out. I'll talk to Hammond."
"I want to go home!" Daniel snarled, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. "Let go of me!"
"Hush," Jack murmured. "Your apartment's been closed down. I stored all your stuff, but there isn't anywhere else for you to go right now."
Daniel stiffened. My apartment?? He felt himself start to shudder again as he realized just how truly insane this Jack had become. He didn't have an apartment in this reality. His apartment was . . . he gulped. That wasn't what he needed to be thinking about right now. He needed to be figuring out how to react to this Jack, because his madness didn't allow for mistakes.
It was easier to just say nothing. Jack kept murmuring reassurances as he continued to sob and shake. Gradually, much against his expectation, Daniel began to relax. This felt like his Jack. This felt like a man who genuinely cared for him, and who was sincerely outraged by what had been done to him. He didn't want to feel that way, he didn't want to believe that this man was any of those things, but on a very visceral level he felt comforted.
Eventually he stopped crying and Jack pulled away. "You okay, Danny?" he asked.
"No," Daniel replied. "I still have a bomb in my chest, and that's not going to be okay."
Jack grinned sympathetically. "Yeah, I can see that. I'll go see what I can do about it." Daniel gave him a weak smile as he walked towards the door. "I'll get someone to bring you a fresh breakfast, okay?"
"Sure, Jack, that would be great," Daniel said. Jack opened the door and closed it behind him as he left. Daniel heard the click of the lock. He grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly, feeling like an idiot, but this was really getting to him.
Between the post-mission debriefing and getting some projects based on data learned on the mission going, Samantha was busy all day. A note assured her that Dr. Jackson was being seen to, and she had to content herself with that because Hammond had been most insistent about wanting these projects started immediately.
She headed to Daniel's room after she finished her work for the day, around eight, but when she got there, the airman stood his ground and didn't let her in automatically as he always had before. "I want to visit Dr. Jackson," she said, giving him a stern look.
"Dr. Jackson is working on something, ma'am," the airman replied politely. "General Hammond has given orders that he not be disturbed."
Hammond gave orders? She nodded and walked away, wondering what the hell was going on. Thus far, Hammond had always left the care, feeding and management of the Daniels up to SG-1. What had changed?
She headed to Colonel O'Neill's office to see if he was there, but there was no sign of him. She called down to the gate and got the news that he had gone for the day. Baffled, she went to the locker room and headed out herself. Without the colonel, she had no one in authority to appeal to, so there was no point in staying. She got changed and went home.
The house was dark and dreary. She hadn't spent much time at home lately, and though the service prevented things from getting dusty, it didn't prevent the pall of disuse from falling over everything. She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, only to realize that she had nothing worth cooking in the house.
She was on the phone with Domino's when someone knocked on the door. It was rather startling, but she figured it was just one of her neighbors with the mail or the newspaper or something. She finished her call and went to the door just as whoever it was started knocking again. They weren't so much knocking as pounding, and the sound made her unaccountably nervous.
"Carter!"
She peered through the peephole and saw the colonel outside. Her mouth went dry and she opened the door. "Sir?"
"Good, you're home," he said, pushing past her. "Let's go out to dinner."
"Sir?" she repeated, feeling more than a little startled. He was agitated and almost manic. "I just ordered pizza."
"It'll keep."
"No, I mean it's coming –" He turned and gave her a very intense Look, and she shut up. "Of course, sir, just let me grab my purse."
She picked up her purse and he hustled her out the door, barely giving her time to lock it. "Truck's unlocked," he said shortly as he headed around to the driver's side. She climbed in, utterly astonished, and he started moving before she even got her seatbelt fastened.
"Sir, is –"
"Mexican or Italian?"
"Mexican would be fine," she said.
"Seafood?"
"Sounds good, but –" Interrupting her blithely, he started babbling on about a particular Mexican seafood restaurant that he liked. This segued into a discussion of seafood in general which she joined in on after a moment. He clearly didn't want to talk about what was bothering him yet, so she played along, hoping this wasn't some new demonstration of his growing insanity.
When they reached the restaurant, she followed him inside where it was total chaos. The waitress held up two fingers and raised her eyebrows, because there was no way she could have been heard without yelling. The colonel nodded and she beckoned them on into the noise.
They wound up at a table in a corner, and the colonel seated her with her back to the wall, then pulled his chair around so that they were sitting very close together. Then he leaned in so that his head was right next to hers. "Can you hear me, Carter?" he asked loudly. She nodded. "Good. We have to talk."
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Hell yes, something's wrong!"
"What is it, sir? I know they wouldn't let me in to see Daniel this evening."
His eyes fairly flashed with rage. "They probably didn't want you to see him upset," he said.
"Why is he upset?" she asked. "What's going on, sir?"
He looked away and gestured towards her menu. She looked up and saw that the waitress was back. She looked quickly at the menu and held up three fingers. The colonel placed his order in the same fashion and the waitress took the menus and left, giving Samantha a knowing wink. She managed a smile and then turned back to her superior officer.
"Sir, what –"
"Hammond has to go," he said abruptly.
"What?!" She stared at him in shock.
"Hammond has to go! He's gone too far."
"Sir, I don't understand. Why is Daniel upset, and what –"
"Hammond had Warner put a bomb in him."
She blinked a couple of times, then shook her head. She must have heard that wrong. "Did you just say –"
"Bomb, Carter!" he yelled. "B. O. M. B. Bomb. A little one, designed to scramble his heart muscle, set off by remote control."
Her jaw dropped. She could see several reasons right off the bat that Hammond might decide to do something of the sort, but she'd never have thought even he was so ruthless.
"While we were gone, they made him skip a meal by the simple expediency of not taking it in to him, drugged him and perpetrated this atrocity on his helpless and undefended body."
"Did you speak to Hammond?" she asked.
"Oh yes. I went to see him, to suggest very politely that he remove the damned thing from Daniel's chest and was informed that I was, perhaps, growing too close to the situation. That if I didn't feel like I could be objective, I could be removed from the project."
Samantha felt as if her brain had frozen. A bomb. In Daniel's chest. Next to his heart. Designed to kill him. It was too much to absorb. The colonel . . . off the project . . . there was a time when she would have been delighted by that notion. No more Daniels getting beaten to a bloody pulp . . . but the general was worse. Clearly and definitively worse.
"Did you tell Daniel, or –"
"No, the general took care of that." The colonel still looked furious. "Daniel thought we knew, that we just didn't want to be around when it happened. I pointed out that it rather spoiled the trust we'd been building with him."
"And?"
"And he said that Daniel didn't need to trust him."
Samantha closed her eyes. It was Sunday. She'd have to find the time to get to that damned café tomorrow. This couldn't go on. She couldn't stand idly by while they vandalized Daniel's body to force him to comply.
"There were also some veiled threats about what might happen to him if I challenge the general's authority again."
"When did you challenge his authority?"
He looked annoyed. "During the conversation. I asked him, politely, what the hell he thought he was doing interfering in my jurisdiction."
"Politely?" she repeated.
"Okay, so I yelled it at the top of my lungs, but, damn it, he gave me full authority over the project to find ourselves a Daniel, and I did it. It's my project!"
"Are you saying he threatened to kill Daniel if you didn't –"
"Yes, Carter!" He looked utterly furious. "We have got to take steps, but it can't be overt, or Hammond will pick up on it."
"Yes sir." She thought hard. What could they do? "How did the conversation with Hammond end?"
"He did tell me that we no longer have access to the transdimensional mirror," O'Neill said. She raised her eyebrows. "It's been removed because he intends to keep this Daniel."
"Well, if he's gotten rid of the mirror, then he must think this Daniel will work out. He can't really be planning to kill him."
"I didn't say he got rid of it, Carter. He didn't say that. It's more like he's put it out of our reach." Which meant that sending him home was not going to be easy. "I tried to tell him it's not necessary, Daniel is adjusting fine, he will stay voluntarily, but Hammond wouldn't listen to me. He just doesn't get it."
She shook her head. She wasn't as sure as the colonel that this Daniel was adjusting, but she wasn't going to argue that point. "We have to find the mirror," she said.
"Why? The mirror's not important now. What's important is getting rid of Hammond so he's no longer a threat to Daniel."
"We could shove him through the mirror!" Samantha said, improvising wildly. "No body, no blame. We found a couple particularly unpleasant locations in our search for Daniels, didn't we? We use the phase shifters, get him to the mirror, then put him through. No one would know what happened to him."
The colonel was just staring at her, eyes wide. Then he smiled slowly with appreciation. "You're more ruthless than I thought, Carter," he said. "I approve."
"Thank you, sir," she said uneasily. She was more ruthless than she'd thought she was, too, because she really meant it, but Hammond had crossed a line that was unacceptable. Daniel had never done any of them any harm, he didn't deserve this.
"It's a good plan to start with, but we can only count on ourselves. He's insisting that Daniel be kept in his cell till he's had further conversations with him, about what he wouldn't say, and I don't entirely trust Kowalski."
She shook her head. "No, I agree with you there," she replied. "This should remain between us. We can't even tell Daniel because of the surveillance tapes."
The food arrived a moment later and she looked down at it. Her stomach was a roiling mess right now, and shrimp weren't remotely appetizing. Still, she had to eat, and her pizza was undoubtedly on the way back to the restaurant with the curses of the delivery boy. The colonel leaned close to her ear. "I think we've said enough for now. I'll come by your place on Thursday to take you out again. Be ready."
"Yes sir."
"If anyone asks us, we're having an entirely inappropriate relationship," he said. "The punishment for that would be considerably less severe."
Ordinarily, the very idea would offend her deeply, but the circumstances were such that she couldn't object. Her hesitation must have been long enough for him to be uncertain of her reaction, because he knit his brows.
"Lieutenant, Daniel's safety must come first."
She nodded. "Of course, sir. I quite agree."
"Good."
"It . . . I wonder, what if whoever follows Hammond is worse?" she asked.
He raised his eyebrows. "I will follow Hammond, Carter," he replied.
"Are you sure?"
"I get results," he said. "That's all the president and the joint chiefs care about. You just might need to be prepared to provide proof that Hammond was passing information to the NID or something along those lines."
"I think I can manage that," she said, nodding.
"Good. Then eat up. I want to get home and get some sleep."
"Will we be allowed to see Daniel tomorrow?"
"I don't know, Carter." He looked quietly angry. "At the moment, the ball is very much in Hammond's court."