Chapter 13 – A New Prison

Daniel gaped at him. Then he snapped his mouth shut. Crossing his arms tightly, he struggled to speak calmly. "Thank you for a lovely evening, Robert, but I'm tired. I think I'd like to go to bed."

Makepeace rose, looking a little startled by the abrupt dismissal. "Let me just clear these things away," he said, turning toward the table.

"I can take care of it," Daniel replied tightly.

"No, you can't," Makepeace said firmly. "You're not in good enough –"

"I can move a few plates to the sink," he said hotly. "I'm fine!"

"You are not fine." Makepeace started picking up the dishes and trundling them to the sink where he rinsed them before putting them in the dishwasher. Daniel watched for a few minutes, but then he got too angry to stand it and left. He went into the bedroom and checked the drawers. Three brand new pairs of cotton pajamas. He pulled a pair of pants out and took off his clothes. Bending to pull the pants on was painful, but he managed it.

Then he took a book off the shelf and lay down on the bed to read it. After awhile, he heard the beeping that told him Robert had left. He sagged, the tension in his body releasing suddenly. After all this time in the hands of strangers, people who seemed determined to beat him till he agreed to do what they wanted, he was folding because of a familiar face. He'd have to guard himself against Makepeace. They'd never been friends, but until Jack had revealed him as the mole, Daniel had trusted him as much as he trusted any of the folks at the SGC. He'd retrieved them more than once, been in the same jams, he'd just made one choice differently.

And right now a familiar face was just what Daniel needed to feel even remotely secure. He had a feeling that Connors had counted on that, planned for it. Did Makepeace know his role, or was he in this blind, too?

Daniel hadn't read a word of the book, he'd been so busy stewing. He closed it and pushed it aside. Without even climbing under the covers, he clutched a pillow and fell asleep.

The next day passed without significant events. Before he even got dressed, Thompson took him back to the infirmary through cleared halls, and Dr. Burney looked over his back, made a few disgruntled noises about its progress, medicated it and him and bandaged it, showing Thompson how it was done. They returned to his apartment and Thompson helped him get cleaned up, replaced the bandage and helped him get dressed. Daniel felt smothered, but he knew Jack would do most of the same things. Aside from that, not much happened. Thompson did a little straightening and made the meals, being unobtrusive and efficient. Daniel watched mindless shows on television.

Makepeace showed up in the afternoon, and without referring to the previous night, they returned to their chess game. They played several more games, then shifted to othello, which Daniel didn't know as well. It was electrifying fun. They didn't talk about the situation, they didn't talk about themselves, which left the weather, current events and sports, about which Daniel knew little and wanted to learn less. However, when Makepeace got going about some team he liked and the players on it, he thought it only fair to listen. After all, Makepeace had listened to plenty of lectures from him.

When he'd been talking for awhile, Makepeace broke off and pursed his lips. "Is something wrong?" Daniel asked.

"I feel like I'm on a date," Makepeace said.

Daniel felt his eyes widen, and he stared at the other man in slightly alarmed astonishment. "What do you mean?" he asked in consternation.

"The way you're sitting there, nodding and making polite noises. You remind me of some dates I've had, where I'm talking about something she could give a rat's ass about, but she wants to impress me with her interest so she humors me."

"Oh." Daniel blinked. "Sorry, for a second there I thought you were pulling a Gregor on me."

Makepeace's eyebrows went up. "He wasn't really . . . was he?"

"Oh, he made it pretty clear that he was," Daniel replied uneasily. "Having bandages wrapped around your torso by a man who's making subtle – and not so subtle – hints that he'd like to get to know you a lot better is a unique experience, and not one I'd recommend."

"I would imagine," Makepeace said, eyes wide.

"And then there was the time I woke up with him petting my hair." Daniel shuddered at the memory.

"Ugh." Makepeace shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly disturbed. "Did he do anything more aggressive than that?"

Daniel shook his head. "Nope, just provided some pornographic novels to help me while away my time."

Whistling, Makepeace shook his head. "Sounds thrilling. And he was the one who was strangling you in the closet?"

Daniel nodded. "I just wish . . . if Jack and them had come, those people would have been arrested." He sighed. "I don't like the thought that they're out there doing whatever they want."

Makepeace contemplated the board silently for several moments while Daniel reflected on that unhappy thought. There wasn't much chance they'd get hold of him again, but he really didn't like thinking of what they might do to someone else.

Finally, Makepeace moved, the pieces clicking softly as he counted his spaces. When he was done, he looked up. With a sigh, he said, "Take my word for it, Daniel, they're not out there doing what they want."

Blinking, Daniel stared at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You really don't want the details, but they're never going to bother anyone again."

There was a finality to Robert's tone that gave Daniel pause. "You don't mean that you tied them up and left them for Jack to find, do you?" he asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Daniel, I don't . . . you don't want –"

Daniel slammed a hand down on the table, making all the pieces jump. "You can and have decided a lot of things for me so far," he said angrily. "Don't try to decide what I do and don't want."

Makepeace shrugged. "Fine," he said irritably. "What do you want?"

"I want the truth," Daniel said. "Whatever your Mr. Connors thinks, I'm not a child that needs to be protected from harsh truths."

Makepeace gazed at him for a long moment. "You aren't going to like it."

"I don't like being held prisoner either, that hasn't stopped you from making it part of my reality."

With a sigh, Makepeace shook his head. "They're all dead," he said. "We didn't leave anyone alive there."

Daniel blinked. It was disturbing, but the word 'never' had prepared him for it. He bit his lip. "So, Jack walked into the aftermath of a slaughter."

"Not exactly. Probably more like a morgue. They didn't leave them lying where they fell, or anything like that."

"Oh, better and better. So it was a morgue with blood spatter." Makepeace winced at the description, but didn't disagree. Daniel shook his head. "And he knows that I'm with people who did that. He'll be thrilled."

"Frankly, O'Neill's reactions were the last thing we were thinking about," Makepeace said. "We wanted to get you out of there and punish the people who did that to an American citizen."

"And see to it that there were no witnesses," Daniel added. The other man shrugged acquiescence to Daniel's assertion. "Robert, you know me, you know how stubborn I am. This isn't going to work."

"It's your turn," Makepeace said, and Daniel returned to the game without outward objection. The rest of the evening, they avoided serious topics. Daniel knew they were reaching for subject matter when Makepeace asked him to tell him what he knew about the Chinese mummies of the Silk Highway.

Daniel dumped his two day's worth of clothes down the laundry chute and went to bed wondering what the next day would bring. Saturday. He was supposed to see Connors again on Sunday, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

Saturday passed much the same way Friday had. As the evening drew to a close, Daniel asked Makepeace if he knew why Connors wanted to take him for a drive.

"The place is ready for you," Makepeace said. "They got it done in an amazingly short time, but Connors was motivated."

The place. Daniel didn't know what to think of that. "What's this place like?"

"I've never seen it," Makepeace replied. "But I know you'll have more freedom there than you have here."

"Thrilling. So I've moved from one room to a one bedroom apartment. What's next? A two bedroom?"

"I don't know, Daniel, but I suspect it's going to be a bit bigger than that," Makepeace said.

"I can't even express how excited I am." He grimaced. "God, my back itches."

"Well, whatever you do, don't scratch it," Makepeace said.

"Ya think!" Daniel replied and Makepeace stared at him.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't sound like O'Neill. It's unnerving."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "I'll keep it in mind," he said, and Makepeace gave a little shudder.

"You have spent too much time with that man. He's contagious."

Daniel shrugged. "Oddly enough, he's the only military man who doesn't make me feel somehow smaller than him, like my Y chromosome is somehow lacking."

"I don't make you feel that way, do I?" Makepeace asked, looking startled.

"Actually, not now you don't, Daniel said, realizing that it was true. "You did. Before."

Makepeace tilted his head. "Have I changed, or has your perception of me changed?" he asked.

Daniel considered the question for a moment, then snorted. "Yes," he said simply. "I really think that all military men view civilian men as girls in pants."

"Except O'Neill?" Makepeace asked.

Daniel shook his head. "No, I'm just in another category for him. It's kind of a lonely category, but that's life."

Makepeace laughed. "You are an odd duck, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel moved a pawn in to threaten Makepeace's king. "Yes, one with clipped wings," he said bitterly.

"Daniel . . ." Makepeace started, but Daniel cut him off.

"If it's more guff about how I'm too much of a danger to myself to be left to my own devices, I'm not interested."

Wisely, Makepeace shut up and moved his king out of check. A few more moves and Daniel had him in checkmate. He stood up. "How early can I expect my gracious warden – oops, I should say 'host' shouldn't I?"

"Call him whatever you like, Daniel," Makepeace said. "It's no skin off my nose. He'll be here around ten a.m. tomorrow."

"Should I wear anything special? White tie and tails?"

Makepeace snorted. "Good night, Daniel. Don't know when I'll see you tomorrow, but I'll see you Sunday for sure."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath," Daniel said, and Makepeace apparently decided to give up on rational conversation. He left and Daniel wanted to throw every movable object in the living room at the door. It was pointless, though. It wouldn't gain anything and probably wouldn't even annoy anybody much. Connors might even be amused by his childish fit of temper.

Lying down on his stomach, he read for awhile and then tried to go to sleep without much success. His mind just kept going over and over things he ought to try and do to get away. Tomorrow might be his last chance for awhile. God knew what the new place he was being taken to would be like, but there was some small chance he could get away on the trip there.

At breakfast the next morning, Thompson warned him that he'd need to be ready by quarter to ten. Daniel fought off the urge to greet whoever came to take him away in his pajamas and bare feet. There were two things that informed his decision not to. One, pissing these people off wouldn't help him no matter how much fun it might be. Two, they might just take him as he was, and he didn't want to put himself at that kind of disadvantage.

The door opened promptly at nine forty-five, and Daniel snapped off the television, rose and went to the door where he found Makepeace and his friend Stu waiting for him in the empty hallway. Once again it had been cleared for Daniel's passage. Were they hiding their operatives from Daniel, or hiding Daniel from their operatives? Both, probably.

"Come on, Daniel," Makepeace said.

"Dr. Jackson," Stu corrected. "I think the formalities should be preserved."

Daniel raised his eyebrows, and Makepeace rolled his eyes. "Stu, don't be a prick."

Stu glanced irritably at Daniel and gestured for him to come out of the apartment. Daniel walked forward and set off between them towards the elevator. When they were inside, Stu turned to Makepeace and said, "I don't think I'm being a prick. You've got to remember, you're not his friend, you're his guard."

"I don't think they chose me for this detail so I could be a stiff-necked jackass," Makepeace said. "I think I'm here because I know him and they thought he might be comfortable with me."

"You're not doing him any favors," Stu said. "He's here to do a job, not to get comfortable and make friends."

Daniel lost patience with the pair of them. "'He' is right here," Daniel said suddenly. "So if you want to discuss your treatment of 'him,' maybe you should wait until 'he' isn't around." They both stared at him in surprise as if a department store manikin had just started talking. Daniel turned to Stu. "And I'm going to have a great deal of trouble maintaining the formalities with you, Stu, since I don't know your last name, unless it's 'Prick.'"

Stu turned bright red, and Makepeace started laughing hysterically. Daniel wished the timing was a bit different. If they'd been outside or even just somewhere a little less enclosed he might have been able to take advantage of their reactions.

"My name is Stuart Corcoran," Stu said.

"Well, Mr. Corcoran, since you're so interested in the niceties," Daniel said bitingly, "maybe you should try not to talk about me like I'm not here."

"He sure put you in your place," Makepeace said, still laughing.

Daniel shook his head. "I wouldn't get too complacent, Robert," Daniel said. "He's not far wrong. You're not my friend, you're one of my jailers, and yes, I think they did bring you here to make me more comfortable. That doesn't make me any happier with you." At that moment, the elevator doors opened and Daniel stepped forward. The men on either side of him stood frozen for a moment, then walked with him, guiding him towards the garage he'd arrived into.

There were twelve cars of various types and twelve groups of people. There was nothing uniform about the vehicles, nothing to connect them all together, and the only obvious unifying factor among the people was that they were all adults. There were people in business suits, exercise clothes, anything you might see people driving around in on a Sunday morning. Two groups even had dogs. The gathered people were listening to someone who looked official and appeared to be giving them a lecture.

"Over here, Dr. Jackson," Stu said.

Daniel smiled tightly. "Thank you, Mr. Corcoran," Daniel replied insincerely, following him to the open side door of a white van. The interior was luxuriously appointed in dark gray leather, like a limousine. There were four deeply padded chairs, two facing forward and two facing back. There was a heavy velvet curtain separating the front seats from the back, and while there were glass windows, there were also panels that covered them. It looked very comfortable and fortress-like.

"Get in," Stu said.

Daniel glanced at Makepeace who nodded, looking blank. Unhappily, he climbed inside, expecting that they would climb in with him. Instead, the door shut behind him. It was a good thing that the dome light was on, or he'd have been in near total darkness. Still hunched in the close confines of the van, he turned immediately and saw that there was no handle on the inside of the door. He heard the front doors open and the van rocked slightly as people got into the front seat. The curtains parted as Makepeace turned from the passenger seat to peek through.

"Sit on down, Daniel, and make yourself comfortable."

"Right," Daniel said sourly.

"I got you some periodicals to while away the time." He gestured towards a pocket in the side of the van. "And there are drinks and snacks in there." He pointed at a little fridge. "There's a television set up above my head with a DVD player. The remote is –"

"I'm not ten," Daniel said irritably. "I can keep myself occupied."

Makepeace rolled his eyes and fastened the curtains shut again. Daniel sat down grumpily and crossed his arms over his chest. This was ludicrous. He'd have to find a way to get the attention of other people on the road once they were underway. Time dragged by, but Daniel still didn't have a watch so he wasn't clear on how much.

After a long stretch of time, Daniel felt the engine start and he began to contemplate exactly how he could get through the rear end of the van and maybe get his hand out a tail light or something. Unexpectedly, the side door of the van opened up and two people climbed in, a large young man and Gerald Connors.

Connors sat down in the forward facing chair beside Daniel and the young man sat across from Daniel. Both men were dressed much the same way Daniel was, casual slacks and button front shirt. They could easily be a well-to-do trio on their way to a nice lunch, only they weren't. The door ran shut again and Daniel looked down at his lap. This rather put paid to his plans to break through the back end of the van and catch someone's attention. He might have been able to disable Connors without drawing attention from the front seat, but not both of them.

"This is Joshua Martin," Connors said. "He's my bodyguard. I don't think you saw him the other day, but he was there."

Daniel gazed at Martin, who gazed back, unblinking. No one said anything for several moments, and the silence stretched uncomfortably until Connors let out a snort. "So, I'm getting the silent treatment, am I?"

Daniel, for the first time since he'd gotten into the van, reached into the pocket where the periodicals were, pulling out the first one that came to hand. It was the most recent edition of JOPA, the Journal of Physical Anthropology. Daniel scanned the front cover to see what the articles were and flipped to one on forensic anthropology.

Connors cleared his throat a couple of times, but Daniel ignored him, immersing himself in methods for dating bodies based on the life cycles and breeding habits of insects. Connors cleared his throat a little more loudly, then finally said, "Dr. Jackson, please don't read while I'm talking to you."

Without taking his eyes off the page, Daniel said, "Why?" The vehicle started moving and Daniel had a brief struggle to control the twisting of his gut. He cleared his throat and looked up. "How about you just drop me at the nearest pay phone, and I'll find my own way home."

"Very amusing," Connors said dourly. "Put the magazine away." Gritting his teeth, Daniel closed the journal but left it on his lap. Connors accepted this limited obedience and said, "Have you given any thought to your situation?"

Daniel took a deep breath and made an effort to control both his tone and his language. "I have," he said. "I doubt very much that you'd like to hear my thinking, though."

"Come now, Dr. Jackson, be reasonable."

"Exactly what is unreasonable about refusing to work for a man who's holding me prisoner?" Daniel asked curiously.

"This isn't a debate," Connors said irritably.

Daniel shrugged and flipped the journal open again. "If you're not going to send me home, then we don't have anything to talk about."

Connors fell silent for awhile, and Daniel read on. The more esoteric parts of forensic anthropology lay outside of Daniel's areas of specialty, so he found the article fascinating. Most of the bodies Daniel had direct experience with were either so recently dead that Daniel actually seen them die, or they had been dead for so long that insect carapaces weren't a big part of dating them.

When he started a second article, Connors cleared his throat again. "You know, SG-1 is going offworld again," he said.

Daniel froze, staring at the page in front of him, not really seeing it. He didn't say anything, but he feared that his dismayed reaction was only too clear to read.

"O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c and Dr. Balinsky came back from a mission the day before yesterday, though I don't believe they were expected until today. I haven't gotten all the details about why they came back early."

They weren't looking for him. He knew someone had to be, but Jack, Sam and Teal'c weren't. They were going out on missions, risking themselves without him to back them up. Cameron wasn't bad, but he didn't have enough experience yet to be the foremost anthropologist and linguist on the base. With Rothman dead and Daniel missing, though, he had the most seniority. Daniel ground his teeth together and forced his eyes to focus on the words. Unfortunately, his brain wasn't really able to focus on them, so he just stared at meaningless squiggles on the page, growing angrier as Connors continued to speak.

"They're going on, which is what you must do. Yes, your situation has changed, but that doesn't mean you can't contribute from your new position."

Daniel shook his head. "You're wacko," he said, then clamped his teeth tightly shut on his words to keep himself from saying something else desperately wrong.

Connors behaved as if he hadn't spoken. "You see, we have the contacts to send information back to them, so if you were to do your translations and discover important information, the data could be sent back to the SGC." Daniel turned towards the glass with the white metal panel on the other side of it and struggled not to growl at Connors who clearly thought he was being so immensely reasonable. "It's not our intent to prevent your former colleagues from benefiting from your skill, just to keep you out of harm's way."

"That's big of you," Daniel said. "Do you mind, I'd like to expand my knowledge base a little." He waved the journal at Connors.

Connors pursed his lips and settled back in his seat. Blessedly, the next few hours passed in silence. Daniel read up on what his colleagues – the ones allowed to publish their findings – were up to, learned a few new facts and found only one thing that he wanted to rail at in terms of unassailable inaccuracy. Of course, there were no Egyptology journals in the stack, probably a result of the conversation he'd had with Makepeace about popular television programs on archeology. He was moderately grateful, after all, his blood pressure was probably high enough without adding that into the mix.

Without a watch, without any way to judge the speed of the van, there was no way to even try to track the route they took, so Daniel didn't bother to count the turns or guess at direction. It was a vaguely claustrophobic ride with all the windows covered and no sound coming from outside. It was a very well soundproofed vehicle.

They stopped at several points, sometimes for what felt like stop signs, sometimes for what felt like traffic lights. At one of these, Daniel leaned forward to try and pull the curtain open, but Martin put a hand on his arm, holding him back. Irritated, Daniel dropped back into his seat. "Just for the sake of argument," he said, "what would the hulk over there do if I ignored his 'polite' grabbing of my arm and opened the curtain anyway?"

Martin blinked a little at being called a 'hulk,' but Connors made a disapproving noise. "Come now, Dr. Jackson, let's keep this civilized."

"So, he would get uncivilized if I did that?" Daniel asked, looking curiously at Martin, wondering what was going on beneath that phlegmatic exterior.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Connors growled.

Daniel shrugged and leaned back in his seat, pulling another journal out of the pocket to read. He waited awhile, letting enough time pass for them to assume that he wasn't going to try again, then, at another stop, he threw the journal into Martin's face and surged forward to yank the curtains apart.

The bright sunlight washed everything out, but he scanned what he could see while continuing to move towards the passenger door. He knew he wouldn't get away, but he was damned if he wasn't going to try.

Makepeace turned in surprise when the curtains pulled apart and caught Daniel's shoulders. "What the –" he exclaimed. Daniel kept moving, using his momentum to keep going, sticking an arm out towards the window. It would hurt, but if he could break the window he'd catch someone's attention, and information could leak back to the SGC or whoever was looking for him.

His fist impacted against the glass of the window, jarring his arm up to his shoulder, but the glass held. It was probably bullet-proof. He felt hands grabbing his legs, and Stu grabbed his left upper arm. Daniel pushed him away, smacking his hand against the steering wheel. That gave him an idea and he brought his hand down solidly in the center of the wheel, pressing hard on the horn.

"Get him into the back, now!" ordered Connors from behind. Martin grabbed him around the waist and dragged him backwards, using his own weight against Daniel's unstable position. Daniel grabbed at the curtains, and they came loose in his hands as he fell backwards. His back smacked against Martin's torso, his head hitting the arm of the chair, which, while padded, had a solid center. His head exploded in pain, his back reminded him that it was nothing but a mass of bruised, half-healed welts. The curtains fell down on top of him. "Makepeace, get that curtain back up! Martin, get him back in his chair!"

Daniel rolled over on his side, off of Martin, the pain in his back nearly immobilizing him, his head aching furiously.

"Damn it, what did you do?" Makepeace demanded.

"Get that curtain up and don't ask questions!" Connors ordered. Daniel felt the curtains being pulled off him and the light dimmed as they were reattached. Naturally, they attached wholly with velcro, so he hadn't really achieved anything.

There was silence for a moment, then Martin said, "I'm afraid to touch him, sir. How badly hurt is he?"

"Dr. Jackson?" said Connors. "Are you all right?"

Daniel didn't reply. He was too busy attempting to regain control over his body. Martin put a hand on his shoulder and he shook his head very slightly. The younger man pulled back and said, "I think we'd better let him be for awhile."

"Don't give him too much space. He could be playing possum."

Daniel growled low in his throat, unable to stop his anger from finding outlet. He sensed Martin moving away and settling against a chair. "I think he's seriously in pain, sir."

"That was very foolish, Dr. Jackson," Connors said, and Daniel wanted to tell him to shut up. "What did you really gain?"

Daniel, to distract himself from his pain, contemplated just that. The corner of Murphy and Mason, a McDonalds catty corner, a Chevron opposite, and lots of cars all around. They were pulled too close to the car in front to see the license plate, so Daniel had no better hint than he'd had previously what state he was in.

It was better than nothing, and he hadn't given in. Of course, any future attempts would be harder now that they knew he wasn't giving tamely in. And maybe someone in another car saw what was happening and had questions that would filter upwards and reach someone who might actually know what to do with the information.

After awhile, the pain subsided, and Martin helped him back into his seat. He leaned back very gingerly, but it wasn't too bad. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

"Do you see now how pointless it is to resist?" Connors said in a voice that Daniel suspected was supposed to sound persuasive, but succeeded only in sounding condescending and oily.

"What I see is that you're a bastard," Daniel grunted.

"Please, Dr. Jackson, common courtesy," Connors replied reprovingly.

"I see no reason to be courteous to a man who has abducted me," Daniel replied. "Call me wacky, but I think the act of abduction rather deprives a person of any right to common courtesy."

"I did not abduct you!" Connors protested.

"Arranged for me to be abducted, fine, it comes to the same thing."

"We rescued you," Connors said.

"No, see, that's apparently a common misconception. Rescue ends with me at home, free."

"So will this, eventually."

"I see," Daniel said. "Will I be getting home any time in the next six to ten hours?"

"Not that soon, but –"

"Then it doesn't count."

"You are damnably unreasonable!"

"I'm unreasonable?" Daniel asked. Shaking his head, he looked over at Connors. "I'd really like to see the dictionary you're using for the definitions of the words you use, because they don't often seem to match my definitions. As a linguist, I'm very curious about alternate definitions."

Connors let out a humph of annoyance and fell silent, much to Daniel's relief. After several moments had passed, Daniel drifted off into a restless sleep.

He awoke feeling stiff and headachy and sat forward, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Connors was talking on a cellular phone and Martin was looking out the window. Daniel blinked. Martin was looking out the window. The coverings were down. The sun had fallen behind them, so they were traveling east, and there was open countryside on either side of them. Why had they taken the covers down now? He looked forward and realized that the curtain was down, too.

"We are within ten miles of you now," Connors said. "Oh, it appears our guest is waking up, so I'll have to get back to you." He flipped the cell phone closed and turned to Daniel. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," Daniel said sarcastically. "Just peachy."

"The land you see around us is part of the compound," Connors said. "We have several facilities on this property, but the one you're going to be occupying is actually at roughly the center of about a hundred square miles. A fence runs all they way around the perimeter, monitored by guards and by electronic sensors."

Daniel looked out over the rolling hills. Copses of trees dotted the landscape and it all looked really beautiful, the grass a pale springy green, little pale flowers spreading across the countryside. "I see," he said.

"Since this compound is so heavily fortified, we are going to grant you a considerable amount of freedom of movement." Connors paused as if waiting for something. Gratitude, no doubt. Daniel just waited. Connors cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued. "I'll let your guards go over the details of your boundaries with you later."

"My guards . . ." Daniel said thoughtfully. "So euphemistic."

"What do you mean?" Connor demanded impatiently.

"Well, they don't work for me, like the hulk here works for you," Daniel said, nodding at Martin.

"My name is Josh," the young man said with a certain emphasis.

Daniel glanced over at him and smiled. "Josh. Thank you." Turning back to Connors, he said, "Josh does what you tell him, including some enforcement as well as bodyguarding." Looking back at Josh, Daniel said, "I sure hope he pays you well. This . . ." He gestured vaguely to indicate the van and the events of the day. "You're going to need a good lawyer. Kidnapping, assault and battery, unlawful imprisonment . . . it all adds up to quite a hefty load of charges, and I'm sure I'm missing a couple."

Josh's face remained neutral, but Connors started to chuckle. Daniel looked at him with a raised eyebrow, inviting him to let them all in on the joke. "Dr. Jackson, do you really think we'd be doing this if we didn't have at least tacit authorization from above?"

Daniel shook his head. "I think you saw an opportunity and grabbed it. Maybourne gave someone a call and –"

"Maybourne?" Connors repeated, sounding startled. "Harry Maybourne?" Daniel nodded irritably. "What makes you think he's involved in this?"

Daniel blinked at Connors for a moment, then said, "I saw him, and it passes well beyond credibility to suppose that two men from the rogue NID would be involved in this incident."

Connors shrugged. "Regardless, there will be no prosecutions."

Daniel sighed. "I'm sure your confidence in that will make the men and women who work for you feel better when they're tried, convicted and sentenced," he said.

Connors grimaced. "Please stop interrupting me," he said. "You keep changing the subject."

"I'm failing to see any motivation for me to do anything you want me to."

The older man's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything else, leaving Daniel free to watch out the windows. Presumably, as they had uncovered the windows, there was nothing useful to be seen, like a sign that said "Interstate 80 –6 miles," but at least he'd know the lay of the land.

He saw no sign of people, just acres of rolling grass. They kept moving, and Daniel scanned the landscape to either side of the vehicle, his heart sinking. He wasn't going to find it easy to get away. He could walk far enough, but all they'd need was dogs to follow and find him. Jack might have some idea of how to avoid that, but Daniel didn't have that kind of training.

One thing, the size of this property gave a small indication of where they might be. Assuming North America, which seemed reasonable, he was probably in one of the plains states, one of the more sparsely populated ones. Montana, the Dakotas, Wyoming . . . he didn't know which. He actually didn't know the States all that well. Most of his travels had been out of the country, most recently off the planet. Still, a compound that size almost had to be in one of the larger states with lower populations.

Finally, he saw a building in the distance, what looked like a farmhouse. The look of it made Daniel even more sure he was in the central United States. It was a white three-story dwelling with a wrap-around porch. There was what looked like a rose garden to the south of the building, and Daniel thought he saw the edges of a vegetable garden behind it. It looked like a scene out of Oklahoma! or something. The road went straight past it and it looked like they'd be there in ten minutes or so.

"That's where you'll be living for the foreseeable future," Connors said. "You, your guards, your staff . . ."

"My staff?" Daniel repeated.

"Thompson, a couple of other housekeeping types, eventually there will be a secretary, once you start to work."

"Don't hire anyone," Daniel said. "Don't waste your money. I'm not going to be doing any work."

"Of course not," Connors said with irritating complacency. Daniel turned away and looked out the window. Connors didn't stop talking, though. "You may have visits from some of the other people who live and work on the compound once you've settled in a bit."

"Is there anyone else here against their will?" Daniel asked.

"No, Dr. Jackson," Connors said. "And I'm sure that in time you'll come to feel very much at home. No one here means you any harm."

"Yes, you're all very well-intentioned, benevolent kidnappers," Daniel said sarcastically. Connors pursed his lips and Daniel sighed. "Having experienced the other kind, I consider myself very fortunate."

They reached the house and stopped. Makepeace and Stu got out of the front seats and shut the doors, and a minute later the side door of the van opened. Connors got out and then Josh Martin. Daniel followed, feeling very stiff and uncomfortable. Josh put a hand out to his arm to help him down, and Daniel was amused by the young man's concern.

He looked out over the countryside, but with Makepeace and Stu and Connors and Martin, there was no way he was going anywhere right now. Sighing, he turned with them towards the house. It was really a very attractive building, red trim on the shutters and eaves, calico curtains in the windows, almost a caricature of a pleasant American farmhouse. They walked up the steps, and Martin stayed at Daniel's elbow. Daniel wasn't sure if he'd decided that Daniel was frail and needed help or that Daniel was a threat to his boss and therefore needed close watching.

Inside the front door was a small foyer with white walls and a dark wood hall tree. Stairs started just to the left of the door and hooked a right turn halfway up. A hallway led under the stairs further into the house, and an archway led into a dining room on the right. In the middle of the room stood a very military man with pure white hair cut close to his scalp. He had black eyes and skin that looked like it had seen a lot of sun. His expression was sober as he greeted Daniel.

"I'm Bill Travis, Dr. Jackson," he said with a small nod. "This way, please," he added, gesturing towards a door on the left that Daniel hadn't yet noticed. Uneasily, Daniel glanced at Makepeace, who seemed calm enough. Oddly, this reassured Daniel a bit. Both he and Makepeace had postulated that the colonel who had briefly commanded SG-1 was here to make Daniel feel more at ease, and it was proving to be effective. It was beginning to irritate him.

He followed Travis into a room that was quite clearly both an office and a security observation room. There was a large desk in one corner, and above it there was a collection of monitors that showed views of all the exits of the house, at least Daniel assumed they were the exits to the house. He could see Stu wiping his feet on the front mat as he prepared to come in the front door. There were also views of three staircases and a few less identifiable doors. Daniel grimaced.

Travis gestured at the monitors. "The first thing I want you to note, Dr. Jackson, is that we can watch all of the major exits to the house from this room, and there will always be someone on duty in here, twenty-four, seven."

"Thrilling," Daniel said, glowering at the screens.

Travis nodded, acknowledging Daniel's resentment. "Now, I have read a great many reports on your adventures with SG-1, a great many assessments of your tactical skills and intelligence, so I'm not willing to trust our security to monitors." Daniel blinked, wondering what the hell Travis could be getting at. He walked over to the desk and picked up a small white box that seemed to be attached to a strip of heavy plastic with regular holes down the center. "We're going to put this around your ankle. This device will –"

"You're putting me under house arrest?" Daniel asked incredulously, suddenly recognizing what he was looking at.

"Essentially."

"Is that really necessary?" Makepeace asked.

"I understand he tried to escape during the trip here? Am I right?" Makepeace nodded and Travis turned to Daniel. "Are you going to give up trying to escape?" he asked.

Daniel looked at him, widening his eyes ingenuously. "Of course, why on earth would I try to escape?" he asked. "You folks are such nice people." Makepeace placed a hand over his eyes and shook his head almost despairingly. Daniel crossed his arms, looking at the electronic cuff. "This sort of strains the notion that I'm not a prisoner."

Travis stared at him and then shook his head. "What fool said you weren't a prisoner?" he asked.

Daniel turned towards Connors who glared at Travis. "He's not," Connors said, sounding irritable. "He's a guest."

"An unwilling guest is called a prisoner, Gerry," Travis said.

"Thank you!" Daniel exclaimed, pointing at Travis with satisfaction. "At last, a man who knows his vocabulary!"

Travis snorted and then said, "Please, lift your pants leg."

Daniel stared at him in astonishment. "Kiss my royal American ass!" he snapped.

"You've really spent too much time with O'Neill," Makepeace said, sounding amused.

Ignoring Makepeace's jibe, Daniel said, "What the hell makes you imagine that I would cooperate with this?"

"Fine," Travis said, shrugging. "Robert?"

"What?" Makepeace said, sounding both suspicious and reluctant.

Travis paused, then shook his head. "Stuart, come over here and restrain the good doctor, would you?"

Daniel listened to Stu coming towards him, then turned at the last moment and landed a punch solidly on the man's chin, knocking him back a few steps. Pain blossomed in his hand, but Stu stared at him in utter shock. Daniel shook his hand and glared around at them. "I don't know what you think is going on here, but I'm not going to play along. If you're counting on me giving in and cooperating, you're going to have an impossibly long wait."

Stu came towards him grimly, dodged Daniel's attempt to deck him and wrapped his arms around Daniel's torso. When Travis moved towards his ankle, Daniel kicked out and knocked the cuff out of his hands.

Travis let out an angry cry of pain. Stu held onto Daniel, who raised a foot to slam it down on his instep. "Let him go!" Travis ordered. "Take him up to his room and lock him in. Connors, get me an ice pack."

"I'm not –" Connors started.

"Go!"

Connors shut up and went. Stu shoved Daniel towards the door. Robert caught his arm as Daniel started to turn and fight back. "Come on, Daniel, let it go for now. You won your point." Daniel allowed himself to be turned and followed Makepeace up the stairs. Stu followed behind, a vaguely malevolent presence. They reached the top of the stairs and Makepeace pointed to the left. "That door is my room. Travis's room is opposite. Some of the others are on the third floor." He nodded towards the door opposite the stairs. "That's a bathroom," he said.

Daniel nodded and Makepeace guided him to the left. Around the corner there were three doors. Makepeace continued to give him the tour. "Those doors lead to your office and libraries, and this is your bedroom." Makepeace opened a door on a long room with a fireplace and two large windows. There was a door in the lefthand wall. "That's your bathroom."

Daniel walked through the door and looked around unhappily. It was a pleasant-enough room, the walls a pale yellow, a dark bedstead against the far wall under the window. Makepeace followed him in and Stu stopped at the doorway. "You going to visit for awhile?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think I need to have a chat with Daniel," Makepeace said.

"Educate him a little, why don't you," Stu said, then shut the door and turned a key in the lock.

Daniel turned to face Makepeace, his arms crossed so tightly that Jack would accuse him of –

"Quit looking so defensive, Jackson," Makepeace said irritably. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "I don't know. 'Educate him' had a bit of an ominous ring, don't you think?" Daniel tilted his head. "Interesting that Travis decided against having you try to restrain me."

Makepeace grimaced. "You aren't doing yourself any favors with those guys, you know."

"Oddly enough, that isn't my goal," Daniel said. "I want them to grasp as quickly as possible that holding me is going to be neither easy nor pleasant."

"You're trying to convince them it's pointless, aren't you?" Makepeace asked. Daniel was intrigued by his use of 'them.' Did Makepeace not count himself among Daniel's kidnappers? He didn't respond, he just waited for Makepeace to have his say. The former marine colonel pursed his lips. "It's not going to work."

Daniel shrugged and said, "We'll see."

Makepeace looked towards heaven and shook his head. Daniel had a sneaking suspicion that the man was feeling sort of stuck between the immovable object that was Daniel and what he perceived as the unstoppable force of his superiors. Sympathy did not well up in Daniel at this sight, the feeling he got was closer to satisfaction. Sour satisfaction.

Maybe this would encourage Makepeace towards making the right decision.