Reality A001
Daniel worked his way through the day. Jack brought him lunch, but he paid little attention to the colonel. It was finger food, but a little greasy. Jack hadn't thought to bring many napkins, so Daniel got a hand towel from the bathroom and kept working while he ate.
The translation was moving more quickly now. He'd made a breakthrough in his understanding of this particular Celtic language. With different influences and environments, it had evolved somewhat differently than Gaelic or Welsh, so it had been a little hard to decipher at first. Now, though, he had a better handle on it and was making good progress.
He'd have the entire monument translated by midday the next day. He didn't think about what he'd be doing after that. He was certain they'd have something in mind, but he had no idea what. He was just rounding the corner onto the fourth side of the monument when the door opened behind him. He looked up at the clock and then over his shoulder. It was only four-thirty. Not nearly time for dinner.
Jack walked in with a folder full of papers. "Hey, Daniel, we've got something really urgent for you to translate."
"Urgent?" Daniel asked, reaching out. "What is it?"
Jack shrugged. "I don't know. I get handed these things and told to bring them to you. I can't read it, you know."
"Right," Daniel said. He put the file down and started gathering up the monument. "It's a shame. This was really going well."
"You can get back to it when you've got this knocked out," Jack said. He reached into the capacious pocket of his fatigues. "I also brought you something." He put a white paper bag down in the middle of Daniel's empty lunch plate.
"Chocolate walnut cookies," Daniel said, picking up the bag. "Thanks."
"Bet you didn't think I'd remember your favorite."
"No, I didn't," Daniel said slowly, looking up at him uneasily.
"Well, enjoy, and Hammond wants that as soon as possible."
Daniel nodded and Jack ruffled his hair and left. It was weird. His own Jack was never this physically demonstrative, unless some serious problem had just occurred, like one of them being implanted with a Goa'uld, or one of them being left for dead. He didn't mind, exactly, but it felt really creepy, in no small part because it bothered him so little. After all, this wasn't his Jack. Shouldn't he be more freaked out by it?
He started flipping through the file. It was in one of the more obscure dialects of Goa'uld, but not a particularly difficult one. It appeared to be some kind of an intelligence report. He got up and walked over to the bookcase, pulling off a couple of journals that looked vaguely but incompletely familiar. Again, it was creepy seeing that handwriting . . . and then with a shiver, he realized that this was the dead man's writing.
They did contain the Goa'uld references he was looking for, though, so he suppressed his emotional reaction and started working.
After a page or so, though, he stopped and started just reading through the papers. This wasn't ordinary intelligence about some Goa'uld stronghold. This was a description of a Jaffa township, one without a permanent occupation by a Goa'uld. That was clear from the notes. In fact, it was very clear that no Goa'uld was expected any time soon.
What was urgent about this? Did they know what they had? At the back of the file he found a sheet written in perfectly plain English.
This was found in the hands of one of the Jaffa who are loyal to Sokar when he was captured by SG-11. The settlement it describes is on a planet that could be of extreme strategic importance, particularly if we managed to take them before the Goa'uld who rules them returns. If we can take that Goa'uld by surprise . . .
Daniel shook his head. Take them? This was a perfectly ordinary group of Jaffa, innocent bystanders, blameless dupes of the Goa'uld to whom they were enslaved. There were no soldier Jaffa there, just children, women and older men who had retired from active service. There were schools and herbalists, cobblers . . . It wasn't a military target.
But because they were Jaffa, the writer of this little analysis had decided that they were valid targets for no other reason than that they were Jaffa. He read on, horrified. It was clear that they knew the gist of the information in the documents, but not the details. That's what he was for. He was to provide them with the details they needed to make taking this settlement by military force easy.
The door opened again and Jack came in with a tray of food. "Hope macaroni and cheese isn't too splattery for you," he said jovially.
Daniel looked up. "Jack, do you really not know what this is about?" he asked, gesturing at the papers.
"No. I can't read that stuff, Daniel. You know that."
"There's a page at the back that's in English," Daniel said. "Last I checked you could read that."
Jack tilted his head. "I didn't look inside the file, Danny. Why? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, there's something wrong," Daniel said, standing up and pacing away, unable to keep still at this point. "That's intelligence on a Jaffa town. Military intelligence, and the purpose is clearly stated on that back page."
"I don't understand, Daniel. Military intelligence is what we do."
"Jack, they plan to attack a town full of civilians. Innocents. People who aren't a threat and may never be. Women. Children. Old men."
"Daniel, there must be a good reason," Jack said placatingly.
"Babies, Jack!" Daniel growled. "There is never a good reason to kill babies."
Jack blinked. "Daniel, it's not your problem. You don't know for sure how that intelligence is going to be used."
"Are you telling me that Hammond wouldn't order an attack on a town full of ordinary civilian Jaffa?"
There was a very uncomfortable silence, then Jack shoved the desk chair into the knee hole and walked towards him. "That's not the point, Daniel," he said. "The point is that Hammond has ordered you to translate these documents and you have to do that."
"I won't," Daniel said. Both his voice and decision were firm, but he was feeling decidedly leery of the way Jack was approaching him. He shook his head. "Your non-answer is answer enough. I will not be party to the murder of children, Jack. I won't."
Suddenly, Jack grabbed his arm and dragged him back over to the desk. "You have to, Daniel. Hammond gives the orders around here."
"Hammond can give as many orders as he wants," Daniel replied, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. "I won't do this."
"Daniel!" Jack yanked out the chair and slammed Daniel down into it abruptly. His knees hit the bottom of the desk and his whole body felt compressed by the force the colonel had used. Leaning over his shoulder and speaking quietly into his ear, Jack said, "Do the God damned work, Danny."
Daniel was shaking like a leaf, but he shook his head. "I won't, Jack. I can't. I can't be –"
Jack spun the chair around and leaned over Daniel so that their faces were very close together. "Daniel, you've got to do it. You don't understand. Hammond is perfectly willing to kill you."
Daniel crossed his arms, his hands clenched into fists. "I know."
Grabbing him by the shoulders, Jack yanked him to his feet. "That isn't acceptable, Danny."
His heart was pounding in his chest, and Daniel found himself hoping that the bomb wasn't overly sensitive to vibration. He took a deep breath and licked his lips. "Jack, I can't. It's –"
Jack shoved him up against the wall next to the desk. Daniel's head smacked painfully against the cement, and his arms splayed out automatically to help him catch his balance. Jack was glaring at him, eyes wide with fury and something else. Worry? "This isn't an option, Daniel. You have to translate this. Hammond's expecting it in an hour."
Daniel was shuddering with reaction. This was the first time Jack had gotten this violent with him since the first day he'd been here, and he really didn't like it. "It's not going to happen, Jack," he said as calmly as he could.
"Damn it, Daniel!" he yelled, pulling him forward and then slamming him into the wall again. "I'm telling you to do this, so you're damned well going to do it." With that, he pushed Daniel towards the chair again, but Daniel kicked the chair aside and wrenched out of Jack's grasp.
"Jack, stop it," he said, backing away. "You'd do better to try and convince them that it's pointless. I won't do it."
Daniel had always known that Jack had special forces training. That he was a fast, mean son of a bitch when it was necessary. But his own Jack had never displayed that ability to Daniel quite so directly. Suddenly Jack's hand was in his hair, one of his arms was bent up behind his back and he was being forced back to the chair. "You will sit down and you will translate this document. That's your job."
Keeping the grunts and yelps of pain behind his teeth occupied all of Daniel's will until Jack finally sat him back in the chair again, putting his hands on Daniel's shoulders to hold him down. Tears of pain and anger had sprung to his eyes, and despite his best efforts, they began to roll down his cheeks. He kept his arms at his sides and stared straight ahead.
Jack's hands were tight on his shoulders. "You always do this, you jackass!" The colonel shook him and Daniel's head swung forward and back. The headache that had started when his head hit the wall grew exponentially. Daniel's fists were clenched but there was nothing he could do. Hitting Jack wouldn't stop this, it would probably just escalate things. "Damned bleeding heart liberal! They're Jaffa! They would kill us if they could!"
"They're dupes! They're indoctrinated! And the babies couldn't kill us if they wanted to." He slammed his fists down on the table and tried to get up. Jack held him down. "Babies, Jack!" he yelled. "Infants in their mother's arms. Whatever you may think is right, I know it's wrong and I won't help."
"You aren't the one who makes those kinds of decisions, Daniel," Jack growled.
Daniel shook his head. "This is the kind of decision only I can make," he said. "How far I'm willing to go. I won't compromise my ethics."
"Damn your ethics!" Jack shouted, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. He stopped, staring at Daniel's face. Then he let go of Daniel's hair and turned the chair, squatting in front of him. His hands were resting on the arms of the chair and he looked earnestly into Daniel's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Please reconsider."
Daniel rubbed at his eyes, which had not stopped their infernal leaking. "I can't. It's wrong, and I won't be a part of it."
Jack took hold of his wrist and pulled his hand away from his eyes. His expression was pleading, and when he spoke his voice was thick with emotion. "Please. I don't want you to die again! Please!"
Daniel shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jack. I can't."
The colonel stood up and backed away. "I'll be back shortly. Stay here."
Daniel blinked at him as he left the room. When the door was shut, he shook his head. "Where would I go?"
Samantha put the finishing touches on her preliminary report regarding the scientific discoveries on P3N-R43 and saved the file. She was still having trouble taking in the information Maybourne had given her. Daniel . . . their Daniel . . . was revivable if a sarcophagus could be found. She was being given drugs to make her docile. Colonel O'Neill was being given drugs to make him more aggressive.
The door to her lab slammed open and the colonel came in looking a little wild eyed. He grabbed her arm. "Carter, you've got to come talk to him."
"Who, sir?" she asked as he dragged her out of the room.
"Daniel," he replied. "The fool of a man is refusing to translate something on moral grounds."
She opened her mouth but there was nothing to say. She'd never yet met a Daniel who wasn't as stubborn as a mule. Realizing that she looked rather as if she were trying to catch flies, she closed her mouth again and wondered what the colonel expected her to do.
When they got to Daniel's room, the guards let them inside and she saw that Daniel was huddled on the bed, on his side, looking utterly miserable. Pulling away from the colonel, she rushed to the bedside. "Are you hurt?" she asked, throwing an involuntary glance back towards her superior officer.
"I didn't hurt him," O'Neill exclaimed. "Did I, Daniel?" He sounded . . . sincere, which surprised her.
She turned back to Daniel, who shook his head. "Nothing worth speaking of."
"See?" Jack said as if that proved his point. That particular phrase was something she'd heard from her own Daniel more times than she could count, but the way this Daniel said it, the look in his eyes, told her that while he might not have broken bones or internal bleeding, he was definitely hurt and more than a little freaked out.
"There's nothing either of you can say to make me change my mind," Daniel said, sitting up. He'd pulled his glasses off. Now he polished them on the hem of his t-shirt and put them back on. "I won't help you folks wipe out a town full of civilians."
"Do what?" she asked, looking up at O'Neill.
"It's an emergency translation Hammond sent down. I didn't know what it was about, but Daniel seems convinced that it's some kind of immoral attack."
"Babies," Daniel said harshly, and she saw the colonel wince. It sounded like a refrain, somehow, and she wondered just how long they'd argued. How battered was Daniel? "There is no other reason for that particular item to be urgent, Jack," Daniel continued. "And the note at the end of the file makes it more than clear what the plan for using the intelligence is."
Samantha closed her eyes. What was Hammond playing at? No Daniel they'd met would go along with something like that. She sighed and looked back towards the desk and saw a tray with congealed macaroni and cheese. "You didn't eat your dinner," she said automatically.
"I'm really not hungry," Daniel said. "And what's the point, anyway? If Hammond kills me it would just be a waste of perfectly good food."
"Do you want to die?" Colonel O'Neill demanded angrily.
"No!" The word reverberated in the room for a moment, then Daniel slumped. "I want to go home."
The colonel squatted beside her. "Well . . . maybe if you do this translation, Hammond will let you go back to your apartment," he said cajolingly. Samantha's eyes widened. Daniel's apartment? Presumably this Daniel's apartment was in the other reality. She didn't know quite what to think of this clear descent into fantasy.
Daniel made an odd sort of whimper and started rubbing his eyes. "Go away, Jack," he said sounding overwhelmed. "I don't want to fight anymore, and I'm not doing the translation so there's no point." He turned his back on them and thumped down on the bed.
"Daniel?" she said softly.
"What?" he asked.
She realized that she didn't have anything to say. "I . . . I don't know."
He turned and gave her an oddly sympathetic smile. "Good night, Samantha," he said. "The lights will dim soon, so you guys had better leave."
"Daniel!" the colonel exclaimed, standing up.
Daniel rolled and looked up at him. "Good night, Jack. I'd like to get some sleep, okay? Take the food with you, please."
"You can't –"
"Sir?" Samantha said, taking the colonel's arm. "I think we'd better go."
He nodded, but shook her off. "Get the tray," he said. She turned to the desk, keeping an eye on them, and the colonel squatted again by the bed. She couldn't hear what they said, but she saw O'Neill ruffle Daniel's hair. Then he hustled her out and left her at a fast pace. She had a feeling he was going to see Hammond, and she didn't know what to expect from that visit. She was terribly afraid, however, that she'd just seen the last of that Daniel.
Wednesday, April 21
Daniel was mildly surprised when he woke up. He hadn't actually expected to fall asleep. He sat up and blinked, stretching tentatively. There were definitely going to be some bruises from his little confrontation with Jack last night.
He got up and went to the bathroom and showered. He wondered if Hammond was really going to kill him. It seemed an odd thing to wonder. He heard the door to the room open while he was drying off and got dressed very quickly. Steeling himself, he went out into the main room.
Hammond had two guards with him this time, Berman and Major Coburn. At least, he looked like Major Coburn. Daniel stopped just inside the room, apprehensive.
"Good morning, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond said genially. "Coburn, bring the good doctor over here."
Daniel managed, just barely, not to flinch when Coburn grabbed him. The major pulled him roughly over to the guest chair and sat him down. The silence lengthened, and Daniel nodded to the general, guessing that some kind of greeting was expected. Coburn smacked him on the back of the head. Daniel looked up and the man raised an eyebrow. "Good morning, general," Daniel said after a moment.
"Much better," Hammond said. "Now, I understand you're refusing an assignment."
Did Jack tell him? Daniel wondered. Then he shook himself internally. First of all, that wasn't his Jack so it didn't matter. Second, there were surveillance tapes . . . videos of him getting roughed up by that Jack. Hammond knew, that was all that counted. "Yes, sir, I am," Daniel said. He kept his voice absolutely level.
"You do understand that there will be consequences for your refusal?" Hammond asked.
Daniel nodded. "I do. It doesn't matter."
Hammond raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "I see," he said. "Well, I'm going to give you a simple choice. You translate this text . . ." He nodded at the papers on Daniel's desk. "Or Major Coburn will break your arm. Your choice."
Daniel stared into the cold eyes of the general. "Left or right?" he asked.
"Left," the general said. "You will, of course, be expected to continue working."
He took a deep breath, looked up at the man who towered over him, and held out his left arm wordlessly.