Chapter Nine: Blue Jell-O Heals All Wounds
Somewhere... else.

Daniel had lost track of how long he'd been standing in front of the door to her quarters. Her quarters, not theirs – the space they'd given Sam to keep an eye on her when it had become abundantly clear to everyone that the two of them could no longer share. Only when he realized that her mashed potatoes were quickly cooling to room temperature and that she liked her jell-o cold did he swallow down the massive lump in his throat and knock.

"Come in!"

She sat mostly in the dark, the two sheets of paper in front of her lit by the desk lamp. "Daniel," she greeted simply from her place across the room, though she didn't get up.

"Uh, hi. I thought you might want some dinner." He knew for a fact that she hadn't left the room all day, but when he started for the small table to set it down, he realized he'd been beaten to the punch. Two other trays sat there – one clearly breakfast, one lunch – both untouched. "Though I'm apparently wrong."

Her eyes bounced from him to the table and back, and she winced a little. "Actually... I am a little hungry."

Was that pity? Or had he just reminded her? He couldn't be sure. "Okay."

Seeming to sense his uncertainty, she added quickly, "I just... I've been working on stuff, and I guess I just forgot it was there. I'm sure your Sam does that all the time."

"She does," he answered with a small smile. "And then I bring her food and make her take a break, and she hates it, but she eats it, anyway. To humor me, mostly, I think. But hey, whatever works." Rather than approach her, he made a space on the table for the third tray and sat it down, then backed away a little – she seemed uncomfortable with him being too close. Still, she stayed at the desk. "I brought blue jell-o," he offered. "It was – is – her favorite. I thought maybe..."

"Mine, too," she answered softly. "You know, Daniel... This might be the first time that you've differentiated between us. That you've talked about her like we're not the same person."

He laughed a little, though it was mirthless. Cleaning his glasses bought himself a little time before he answered. "Actually, I don't think you are. Oddly enough, it's... it's easier for me to think that something went amazingly cosmically wrong than to believe that my wife has lost all touch with reality."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Though now that I've said that out loud, I'm starting to think that maybe I'm the one who needs the psychotherapist."

"It's good to just say it," she answered with a smile. "If I always censored myself when I was about to say something that sounded crazy..."

"You'd be mute?"

She chuckled. "Yeah."

The silence stretched long – and awkward, though less than before. "So, ah... what are you working on?" he asked with overdone cheer, trying to somehow engage the woman.

"Oh. Uh, it's nothing." Quickly, she flipped one sheet over the other, hiding them both – not that he could have seen them from twenty feet away, anyway. "Nothing at all."

"Right." Foiled again. Pointing to the door, he mumbled, "So I'll just, uh..."

"You don't have to go."

He didn't? Really? Well, that was better than getting kicked out, he supposed – although he still wasn't sure whether looking at her was comforting or distressing. He didn't move, maintaining his distance as she moved to the table and sat down in front of the tray of food.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked softly, earning a wary look. "It's not... Look," he pressed, "I get what you're trying to do. I know you want to protect your SGC, the people you love, and I think that's admirable. And I promise not to ask you anything that might put them in danger. At least, I won't mean to, and you can tell me to shove it if I do."

She considered that for a moment over a mouthful of mashed potatoes, then shrugged. "Sure."

"You just... You seem so convinced that this is all a hallucination. And that you know who's causing it, and I can't help but wonder... Who is Fifth? And why are you so afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid," she shot back.

He gave her a sad smile. "I can still read you like a book," he told her softly, "mine or not."

With a sigh, she set down the fork and pushed her tray away. "He's a human-form Replicator. The fifth off the line."

"A... what?"

"Have you not met the Replicators? Lucky you."

"No, we have," he told her. "But they're... metal. Little toy spider things."

She nodded. "They were. They've evolved into the forms of their creators – the Ancients. So they look human. They like to act human. They... They think... they feel..."

Daniel stopped her with a hand. "Just for clarity – is that 'they think and they feel' or 'they think that they feel?'"

"A little of both, I guess. I don't doubt that they have feelings, but as to what they are or how deep they go... Well, that seems to be the question. And it doesn't help that they handle them at about the same level as a four-year-old in the middle of a temper tantrum."

"Ah. And this Fifth – his feelings are..."

"For me."

Daniel nearly choked on nothing but air, and it took him a few moments to recollect himself. "Excuse me?" A Replicator – a machine – was in love with his wife? "That's absurd."

"Oh, stick with me, Daniel, because I think I need to tell you this," she pressed. "I think I need you to understand."

Something in her voice caught his attention – she really did seem a little desperate. Slowly, giving her all the time in the world to object, he moved to the other chair and sat across from her. "Okay."

"We encountered them for the first time a few years ago. The others were hell-bent on total destruction, but Fifth... is different, somehow. He offered to help us escape in exchange for taking him with us, and we agreed, but..."

"He didn't follow through?" he offered when her voice trailed off.

Bright blue eyes whipped up to his. "Oh, no. He followed through."

Daniel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't."

"Colonel O'Neill ordered me to rig the device we were using so that he wouldn't make it in time. I didn't want to, but I had my orders, and we left him behind." Clearly upset, she looked away. "And even with everything that happened after that, I'm still not sure who was right."

"I take it that wasn't the last you heard from him," he surmised, something in her tone making him distinctly uneasy.

"He found me again. A few weeks ago. He kidnapped me."

His stomach abruptly flip-flopped, and suddenly it occurred to him that her silence might have been better. The way she intently studied her tightly folded hands rather than look at him didn't set him at ease.

"As I'm sure you know, the Replicators can interface with any kind of technology," she went on softly. "Turns out, that includes the human brain. He... The only word we have for it is torture, but that's not really... It's not just that he shows you things, but he can make you feel anything – fear, pain. Worse than anything you've ever imagined. And he did that for I don't know how long."

The anxiety for her building in his chest made it nearly impossible to breathe. Daniel knew that it happened, of course – war was hell. People suffered unspeakable things at the hands of their enemies, but as horrible as it made him feel for even thinking it, that was people. Other people. Not them. Not... her.

"And then one day, I just... woke up. I was on a farm in Montana," she said wryly, "with horses and chickens. And a man I care about, who insisted that we'd moved there after the SGC had become too stressful. It was all so right – the idea of it. And it was so real. But it was also just... wrong, somehow."

"It was an illusion," Daniel guessed. "Created by Fifth."

"Yes." For the first time in a long time, she met his eyes. "He was the man, of course, in disguise. He thought we could live happily ever after, and I'd never know the difference. In fact, he insisted on it well after I told him I wasn't falling for it. Or him. See, Daniel... that place felt a lot like here. And I was putting my foot down. Hard. Just like I had to do on that stupid farm, but... the longer I'm here, the less I think I'm right."

Daniel sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, nodding. So she was a little crazy – but she'd been driven to it by a madman. It explained a lot: her brutal insistence that they weren't married, her anger, her silence. The distance she'd so carefully kept from them all. But they couldn't maintain that forever. Slowly, he pushed one of the trays aside and slid a hand across the table toward her.

She stared at it for a long time before slowly reaching out and tangling her fingers in his. When she looked up, her eyes glistened with tears. "In my world, Daniel, you're my best friend. My brother. You're the one who got me through it – who held me when I cried. I've missed you, Daniel."

He clutched her hand a little tighter. "I've missed you, too."