Tuesday, April 27
Reality L583

By the time they got back to the SGC, Dr. Fraiser had sedated their guest. He'd evidently had a violently emotional reaction, no one was quite sure what to. But if Fraiser had sedated him, it must have been pretty awful.

Jack took a pad of paper and a couple of books with him and sat with him through the evening. He didn't know if it would help, but he didn't want this Daniel waking up alone. Settling himself down at the table, he started working on his report. He had confessed his indiscretion to the general, who had agreed that it had been the only thing he could have done under the circumstances. Leaving the information and Dempsey and Travis in the general's capable hands, he'd gotten checked out by Fraiser, taken a shower, and come here.

Teal'c needed some time off from Daniel duty, and Carter had announced upon her clearance to leave the infirmary that she had gained a few new angles on the mirror problem. Without waiting for dismissal, she had rushed off to her lab. Not that he would have refused her permission, but it was amusing when the very proper Captain Carter forgot herself.

He hated writing reports. It was very annoying, tedious work to have to write down all of what he had just done. He understood the need, he just wished there was a better way to get it done. Hours passed before Daniel so much as stirred. It was quarter to eleven when he rolled over and sat up.

"Jack?"

"It's me," he said, getting up and walking across to the chair beside the bed.

Daniel's face underwent the most astonishing series of expressions, pleasure, confusion, concern, realization, resignation and all the myriad states in between. Occasionally Jack wondered if it was possible to sprain one's face. If so, Daniel was in serious danger of it. Finally, the archeologist put his feelings into words. "I'm still not home," he said glumly.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I dreamed . . ." Jack nodded and Daniel didn't go on. Jack was plenty familiar with those kinds of dreams. Sometimes you didn't want to wake up from them. "So, did everyone get back okay?" the other man asked eventually.

"Oh yeah," Jack said. "Dempsey and the rest of his team asked me to convey their thanks, and they know who they're thanking due to a flub on my part."

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked.

"I told them you were a Daniel from an alternate reality because otherwise they were . . . well, I said something about 'my Daniel' and –"

"That has multiple interpretations," Daniel said with a smothered grin. "So you had to tell them the truth?"

"Yeah. It was time anyway. The secret's wearing a bit thin, and some rumors are starting that we need to nip in the bud now."

"Rumors?"

"Daniel's got amnesia, Daniel's lost his nerve and we're trying to cover it up, Colonel O'Neill lost his cool and beat the crap out of Daniel and everyone's just covering it up. They run the gamut."

Daniel blinked. "That sounds like it. Well, you'll have to let me know what the story you settle on is."

"Um . . . the truth, probably," Jack said. Daniel's eyes widened and he shrugged. "So, you hungry at all? I've got a thermos of soup over here."

There was silence while Daniel considered this. "I think I could handle some soup," he said and Jack poured some out into the mug that topped the thermos. Daniel sipped meditatively, and Jack tried not to fidget. "You know," Daniel said after a few moments, "you might want to get up and pace or something before you explode."

Jack let out a snort, then studied the other man closely. "You're putting on a very good front."

"Thank you," Daniel replied. "I do my best. It's nice to have that noticed."

"Daniel!" he exclaimed in irritation.

The other man shrugged. "What? It's true."

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's okay to let go a little," he said.

"Letting go a little won't work," Daniel replied with a grim smile. "I'm afraid if I relax even a little, I'll turn into a pile of hysterical goo."

Jack sighed. "I can understand that. But you know, it's all right to turn into hysterical goo." Daniel looked at him dubiously. "We'd pat you back into shape when you were done."

"That is a disgusting image!" Daniel said.

"But a heartfelt and sincere one," Jack replied. "And it was yours, after all." Daniel shuddered slightly, but Jack could tell he wasn't unduly distressed. "Seriously, though, no one could possible expect you to be calm and peachy keen after what's happened to you."

"Maybe no one else," Daniel muttered.

"Don't be . . ." Jack bit back the word 'ridiculous' as needlessly provocative and possibly insulting. Had it been his own Daniel, he probably wouldn't have scrupled, but this man was having a very bad time. "You can let go here and not be judged. That's all I'm saying." Daniel just shrugged. It probably wasn't the moment for him to let loose a storm of emotion anyway, Jack thought. He cleared his throat after a moment and said, "So, the soup waking up your appetite at all?"

Daniel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment, then he said, "Not really. It seems to be hitting the spot exactly."

"Good. Fraiser said you'd probably wake up but need to sleep again pretty soon after."

"Not yet," Daniel said. "I've got some files over there that I could –"

"Actually, she gave us pretty specific orders as to that," Jack said apologetically. "Pretty blistering words, too. You're not to work on anything until she personally okays it, so I've got a couple of novels and some magazines, but all files and other work paraphernalia have been removed."

"Damn it!" Daniel snarled. "It was the only thing . . . I need to . . . it holds me together."

"Well, unfortunately, she thinks it also tore you apart," Jack said. "I wasn't here, obviously, but she said she thought we were working you too hard."

Daniel shook his head. "It wasn't overwork, it was . . ." He shrugged expressively, looking stymied. "I don't know how to explain it. I was doing my job, but I'm not. I'm here, and my job is in my reality. I'm doing another man's job, an equally important job, but not my job . . . and somewhere, there's a guy who may or may not be doing my job, and if he isn't then who's taking care of what needs to be done, and if he is, how badly is he possibly screwing up? There are things about my reality that he doesn't know just as there are things about your reality that I don't know . . . I don't know how soon I'll be back, and I don't know what's happening with my wife and children or who's taking care of them. Jack is, I'm sure, but it's –" Jack caught the visiting Daniel's arm and he broke off. Tears had begun to stream down his face, and his volume had risen as he spoke, his voice growing so tense that Jack wondered how he could bear to talk. Vocal chords that tight must be painful. "I want to go home!" Daniel exclaimed. "But how can you let me go? If I leave, you people will have no one."

"You'll go home when we can manage to make it happen, even if we don't have our Daniel," Jack said firmly. "That's not in question."

"What if that elevator thing had happened when you didn't have a Daniel to translate those words?"

"Teal'c had some ideas," Jack said, but the look Daniel shot him told him that he knew Jack was exaggerating.

"At best it would have taken Teal'c a couple of days, probably closer to a week to get them out of there," Daniel said. "Who knows what could have been lurking that might have been emboldened by that long a stay?"

"Don't borrow trouble," Jack said. "We've got enough of our own without going looking for problems we don't have."

"True," Daniel said, sighing. "You're a good man, Jack. Much like my own." He leaned back, eyes fixed on some distant point that was most definitely not in this room. "I just wish I understood . . ."

Jack waited, but he didn't go on. "You wish you understood what?"

"Him." Daniel shook his head. "What you said about his not liking me to risk myself and all of what I have makes sense to a point, but . . . I never know what to expect."

"Well, if he's anything like me, then you're very different men," Jack said. "I can't exactly analyze him from here, but I can say that you're a lot like my Daniel, and our friendship has its rocky moments, believe me."

"It's hard to tell watching you now," Daniel commented.

"I have a feeling that it's the same for your Jack. He's not remembering . . . except occasionally . . . how much trouble you give him. He's remembering how much he relies on you as his right hand. He's probably over there obsessing on two things. Taking care of Sha're and the kids and finding you."

Daniel gave him a half amused, half appalled look. "Except occasionally? Am I to take it that you have been remembering how much trouble your Daniel gives you?"

Jack shrugged. "Sometimes. Look, if your Jack is anything like me, and from what you've said, he is, he thinks of you like an exasperating little brother that he's supposed to watch after and take care of, but who isn't cooperating."

Daniel's eyebrows rose. "So being a colonel is like being a babysitter?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "It sure can be. There are moments."

The other man leaned closer, giving him a mischievous look. "And there are moments when the babysitter is more of an instigator of bad behavior than otherwise," he said.

"As is only right and proper for an older brother," Jack said sanctimoniously, a bit of humor that was rewarded by a smile. The smile was followed shortly by a yawn. "And as the surrogate for your older brother Jack, I say it's time for you to go back to sleep."

"I say it's time for me to hit the bathroom," Daniel said. With all his injuries, that was more of a production than either of them found pleasant, but they got through it with a minimum of embarrassment and put him back to bed.

"Sleep well, Daniel," Jack said, going back over towards the table where his fledgling report was waiting.

"Could I have a book?" Daniel asked. "I'm not quite ready to sleep."

Jack grabbed the pile of novels and let Daniel pick one, putting the rest of the bedside table. Then he settled down to his report. When he got tired, eventually, he dossed out on the couch, figuring that any movement Daniel made would wake him.

Wednesday, April 28
Reality A001

When the alarm went off, Samantha snuggled closer into the warm body that was in bed with her, feeling safe and drowsy. A moment later, the alarm stopped making noise, and the warm body snuggled back. "You set it early," he said.

"I did," she agreed. "I thought it might be nice to have a couple of minutes before we had to start rushing around."

His only answer was a wordless sigh of contentment. After a few moments, he said, "This is quite a surprise. I never expected to . . . I mean . . ."

She turned her head. "Are you saying you've been attracted to me before this?"

"Carter, you're a beautiful woman, and on top of that you're brilliant and competent, and hell on wheels in a fight. What's not to be attracted to?"

She lay silent, cradled in his arms for a moment. "I don't know what to say to that. I don't think of myself that way."

He rolled over and pulled her close. "You're modest, too," he added, smiling slyly, "and that just helps. But hasn't anyone ever told you that competence is amazingly sexy?"

She smiled at him. "I'd noticed it for myself, actually," she said, tracing a muscle in his arm.

The pleasure went out of his face and he rolled away, turning his back to her and sitting up. "Then why you'd want to be with me is a mystery," he said.

"Jack?" she said uncertainly. Snagging her robe from the end of the bed, she pulled it on and shifted to sit next to him. "Jack, you're not incompetent, you're ill." And this was a dangerous conversation to be having in a place that might be monitored.

"I wasn't ill when everything started," Jack said. "I wasn't ill when I killed Danny."

She couldn't mention the drugs, not if there might be people listening. And wasn't that a charming thought? Did they turn their heads away during the sex, or did they watch with avid curiosity? She shivered slightly. "Sir, you made a mistake," she said.

"And you knew it then, and told me, more than once, and I didn't listen."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Jack, and the past is over and done with. We have to move on from where we are now."

He dropped his head into his hands and said, "I suppose you're right, but . . ."

"No buts," she said. "No ifs or maybes either. Right now we take one day at a time and just keep going."

He looked up, meeting her eyes. In his gaze was the awareness that he only seemed to have when they were alone together, the knowledge of all that he had done. But he smiled past that and took the support she was offering. "Okay, one day at a time."

"Good," she said. "So, do you want to shower first or second?"

"First," he replied with a mischievous glint. "I'm not that chivalrous."

"Age before beauty," she remarked, getting up. He swatted at her behind as she moved away. "I'll go fix some breakfast. Oatmeal?"

"Sure," he said, heading into the bathroom.

Wednesday. Daniel awoke with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. Five days they would be gone. The only people he could expect to see for the next five days were airmen who didn't talk to him, or Hammond and Berman, whom he most definitely didn't want to see.

He got up and took a shower, then walked out into the main room. A bed. A desk. Eight bookcases. Three chairs. An audio/visual cart with a TV and a VCR and three tapes. A cheap cd player. A bar fridge filled with water and soda. A bowl of fruit and a neat stack of granola bars. His whole world for the next five days.

He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and sat down at the desk, taking up where he'd left off on the most recent translation job he'd been given. More and more, he'd become unwilling to work. He didn't know what they would do with the information he gave them, and he didn't have any way of affecting it either. But if he stopped translating, Hammond would kill him and that would be the end of things for him, and they'd go seek another Daniel. Somehow that didn't seem like a good option.

So he sat down and translated things that seemed harmless but which might not be and prayed that they would not be used against innocents. Against the Goa'uld, that was well and good, and one could mourn the hapless human host that died with them, but he hated being a tool in the hands of a man who thought that killing people and taking their stuff was the answer to defeating the Goa'uld, who killed people and took their stuff. The human race turning into a copy of the Goa'uld wasn't victory, it was substitution.

And if he got himself killed and Jack showed up the next day . . . Daniel smiled at the thought that came next . . . Jack would kill him. Ironic, that. He sighed. He just had to stick it out and hope that people like Samantha wound up in charge here in the long run.

The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Samantha coming into the room with a tray of fresh breakfast. Eggs, toast, bacon. She set it down in front of him and sat down. "Eat up."

He pulled the tray in front of him and did as she told him. "What about you? Have you already had breakfast?"

She nodded. "I got up early and ate. How are you this morning?"

He shrugged. She seemed so bright and cheery that he didn't want to spoil her mood. Besides, there wasn't a damned thing she could do about his unease at being left here without her comfort and support, and without Jack. Making her feel guilty for something she couldn't help would be unkind. "I'm fine," he said.

Her eyes took on a depth of sympathy that told him more loudly that words that she knew he was full of shit. "I put together a stack of movies for them to bring you," she said. "As the days go by. We'll be back before you know it."

Daniel doubted that sincerely, but saw no point in saying so. She could probably guess. "Well, be safe, Samantha, and make sure the colonel doesn't take any unwarranted risks."

"I'll do my best," she said, smiling. "We leave at noon, so I've got to go get ready."

He nodded. "Go, get ready. Don't want you to rush and skip any steps."

She laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I won't. I'll see you Sunday evening."

"I'll see if I can arrange a nice dinner for you," he said. She squeezed his shoulder and left. He turned back to his work. He didn't expect to see anyone else for awhile, not till lunch at least, but the door opened again about ten minutes later to admit Jack.

"Danny, you okay?" he said as Daniel turned.

There was a flutter of unease in his gut as there always was when this Jack called him 'Danny.' He smiled, though. "I'm good, Jack. Just be careful. Come back in one piece."

"I'll do my best Danny, I promise. I brought you some cookies to tide you over till we get back." He held out a bag of chocolate walnut cookies which Daniel accepted with a smile. "You take care of yourself, too, Danny. See that there aren't any problems, okay?"

"Sure, Jack," Daniel said, hoping that Hammond would permit that.

"Well, I'll see you when I get back," he said.

"Samantha's already coming for dinner. I'll see if I can arrange something nice for us."

"You do that," Jack said. There was an awkward pause, then Jack walked over and said, "Get up, Danny." Daniel did, and Jack gave him a tight hug. He returned it. Jack pulled away, tousled his hair, and said, "See you, Danny." Then he left.

Daniel sat down again and stared at the papers. They were leaving at noon. It was eight-thirty. He doubted he'd see either of them again before they went. Somehow, the leave-taking made him feel rather as if they weren't expecting to come back, which he knew was ludicrous, but it still tightened his neck and shoulder muscles painfully. He buried himself in work, focusing on it to the point that when he looked up again, it was nearly three, there was a plate of sandwich crumbs by his elbow and an empty carafe of coffee on the floor by his feet.

He looked up at the clock, ticking away the seconds towards three o'clock, and his stomach did a flip-flop. They were gone. His only protectors in this place, the only people he felt he could trust, were gone.

He wasn't going to think about that. He didn't want to think about it. He worked steadily till dinner. After dinner, he watched a movie and played solitaire until his eyes crossed. He knew he had to sleep, but he somehow didn't want to fall asleep with Samantha and Jack gone. It was an illusion that their absence permitted Hammond to do anything more than when they were here, but he still felt safer with them on base. He'd sent them on a mission last time, or so Daniel believed, so that he could have no kibitzing when he had Warner put the bomb in Daniel's chest.

Finally, Daniel felt tired enough to actually sleep. He got dressed for bed and climbed in and a moment later the lights went out. It was only nine o'clock, so they were being responsive to his actions, which made an interesting change. He wondered how long it would last.

Thursday, April 29
Reality A001

Daniel's first day without Jack or Samantha went swiftly and without unexpected events. Breakfast came in the morning, lunch came, and then dinner, all brought by unsmiling, unspeaking airmen. Daniel ate and worked and tried not to remember that it had been through food and drink that he'd been betrayed the last time. Surely there was nothing else that Hammond could want to do to him.

He worked about ten hours in deference to the fact that he was supposed to be getting back to a more normal schedule now that the week of rest was up. He couldn't tell if he felt any better than he had last Thursday, but it hardly mattered. Hammond wouldn't put up with much more rest time.

That night he read himself into oblivion, and again, the lights went off as soon as it became apparent he was in bed to stay.

Friday, April 30
Reality A001

Dreams could by sly, unfair things that gave you what you wanted and then snatched it away upon waking. Daniel stared up at the unchanged ceiling of his prison and tried to cope with the aftermath of a dream that had put him back home with Jack, Sam and Teal'c, having dinner at O'Malley's, then going to Jack's house for a movie and beer. He'd woken up as he'd fallen asleep in the dream. Too drunk to go home, he was sleeping in Jack's guest bed.

Waking from that to the prison . . .

He got up and went into the bathroom. In the middle of his shower, he heard the outer door open and shuddered slightly under the hot water. That had happened a few times and been merely breakfast delivery, but he couldn't put out of his mind the memory of the times it had been Hammond he'd come out to.

He finished his shower quickly, not wanting to keep Hammond waiting if it was him, and walked out to the sight of an airman kneeling in front of his little fridge, clearly restocking it. He felt more than a little foolish but very relieved. He sat down at his desk where a breakfast tray had been placed and began to eat. His fruit had been refreshed as well, he noticed. He turned on the cd player and popped in some lively music to wake himself up.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and started his breakfast as he read through the translation he'd written the night before. He looked down at he coffee after he'd drunk some and said, "Did you change the blend?"

The airman looked up from the fridge. "Yes, sir, I believe we did."

"Hmmm . . ." Daniel took another sip and shrugged. It didn't taste that different, only a little more bitter, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned. His eggs weren't tasting very good this morning, so he pushed the tray aside and grabbed an apple from the bowl.

As he continued to drink the coffee, he tried to puzzle out what the difference was exactly. When his eyes started to lose focus and he began to feel detached from the room and the page in front of him, he realized abruptly what the change was. He stood up and threw the coffee cup across the room where it slammed into the wall next to the airman and broke, spraying coffee everywhere. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. His vision was blurring, and he fell unsteady, even sitting in the chair. It had taken three cups of coffee to get him to this point last time. They must have upped the dosage for fear he'd stop drinking if he started feeling odd.

"Sir, you should sit down," the airman said, rising and coming towards him.

He backed away, stumbling over the chair. "What's he going to do to me?" he demanded. His words were slurring. He felt even more awkward with the cast. It threw off his balance because he didn't have that arm to use as ballast.

"Sir, it will be okay," the airman said. He'd moved much more quickly than Daniel had and was right up next to him. Daniel swung out with his right hand and caught him a clumsy blow on the shoulder. Since he'd been aiming for his jaw, he glared angrily. The airman caught him by the shoulders.

"Let go of me!" he growled, struggling to break free. He wrenched himself out of the young man's arms and hit the wall behind him. "Why is he doing this?" The airman pursed his lips unhappily and moved towards him. Daniel had nowhere to flee now. He stood his ground, glowering. Then his knees gave way beneath him and he slid down the wall.

His vision darkened, and he lost consciousness to the words of the airman. "Sir, don't worry. Everything will be . . ."