Chapter 5

Daniel couldn't stop shaking. The spasms had stopped, but his thoughts still jumped crazily in his head, and at first he couldn't remember where he was. All he knew was pain, terrible, terrible pain. An acrid smell filled the cell, and he realized that it was coming from him, that he had wet himself, and a rush of shame mixed with his fear and confusion.

Suddenly someone was speaking. "All that suffering, for nothing," a voice said, its smug tone belying the sympathetic words. "You must see that, each time, the seizures grow worse. Can you imagine that, Dr. Jackson? Can you imagine worse pain?" The voice hesitated, as if expecting an answer, then went on. "But we can make the pain go away. You need only give us the symbols."

A hand holding a notebook and a pen came into view, and Daniel remembered.

Gahry. The minister had stood by and watched as Daniel's body jerked and contorted, had listened to his screams and done nothing. He'd enjoyed it, obviously.

Despite his exhaustion and the relentless burning in his veins and across his skin, Daniel somehow got his shaky arms to work, and he sat up once again with his back to the wall. He didn't try to stand, knowing he wouldn't make it. Instead, he simply stared up at Gahry.

Gahry sneered at him. "Here you sit in your own waste, yet you still believe you are superior, don't you?" He bent and shoved the pen in Daniel's face again. "The symbols," he spat out.

Daniel leaned his head back against the stone wall and looked at a crack on the wall behind Gahry. Maybe if he just ignored him, he would go away. He started to concentrate on his breathing again. In . . . out . . . in . . . out. . . .

"Do you really think you can win? I heard your screams, I saw your tears. You are less than nothing."

In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . . i—

The backhand caught Daniel in the mouth, jerking his head sideways and knocking him to the ground. His thoughts scattered again, for a second, but then he was pushing himself up once more, knowing it was only pure stubbornness that was keeping him going. This time he ended up on his knees, swaying. He felt the blood dripping from his lip, and he raised his hand to wipe it away. Gahry watched him without moving, then shook his head and turned toward the door.

"It's only a matter of time; you know that," he said as he stepped out of the cell. He waved to his guards, who'd been standing in the corridor looking in, and they all strode away. Someone pushed the door shut with a slam, and Daniel heard the bar slip into place. He stayed as he was until the footsteps died away and he heard the outer gate shut, then he sank slowly back to the floor.

"Any time now, Jack," he whispered, as he pulled his knees up to his chest and waited for the next spasms to hit.

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It was hours before Jack finally returned to the infirmary. He trudged wearily down the hall next to Halas, who had followed his orders to the letter, virtually never leaving his charge's side, offering Tylenol and a constant anxious expression and, at least twice on this last trip, a steadying hand. It was a sign of just how exhausted, how wretched Jack felt that the second time he'd actually accepted the med tech's help.

In the debriefing, they'd gone around and around, looked at the problem from every angle, and after all that they still had nothing. No Plan B. If they dialed the Gate, Daniel was dead, and those terrified people with him. There was no doubt that Lioss would do it, would murder them all without hesitating. So they were left with exactly what Lioss wanted: waiting. Waiting for the Tok'ra to respond to their hails. Waiting for Kovachek and the rest of SG-9 to make it back from their canceled leave to see if they had gained any knowledge during negotiations that might help. Waiting to see if Fraiser and her people could come up with an antidote on their own and at least help Carter.

Waiting for that psycho Lioss to contact them, in minutes, hours or days.

Jack stopped briefly outside the infirmary doors. He felt so damn helpless, and now he had to go in there and tell Carter—and Teal'c, who'd they'd learned was out of surgery—that there was nothing they could do for Daniel, that he was trapped there, suffering, and they couldn't get to him. And he had to tell Carter that they weren't going for the antidote, that they still had nothing, no way to save her from all that pain.

And the pain was getting worse, he knew. Halfway through the briefing, Fraiser had contacted Hammond with that bit of news, that while Carter's vitals had remained unchanged, the spasms that racked her body were occurring more often and more with more intensity. She was still unwilling to risk pain medication, but she was hoping that muscle relaxants would alleviate the worst of the spasms. She hadn't contacted them again, and that at least had to be a good sign, right? If Carter had reacted badly to the muscle relaxants, she would have told them. . . .

Jack sighed, knowing he had stalled long enough, and pushed through the doors. Ignoring Halas's hand on his arm trying to steer him to one of the infirmary beds, he moved toward Carter instead—he needed to check on her and Teal'c; his pounding head could wait. One of the nurses moved to intercept him, but then Janet stepped into view, said something quietly to her, and she stopped. Jack was conscious of both their eyes on him as he walked.

The curtain around Sam's bed was drawn, and as he drew a little closer, he heard a voice from behind it, calm, strong and steady: Teal'c's voice. Jack stopped in his tracks and glanced at his watch to confirm that it had been barely two hours since Teal'c had gotten out of surgery. Symbiote or no, that was an awfully quick recovery, and he wasn't sure whether to berate the Jaffa for not resting or hug the big guy for watching after Carter while he was gone. Listening to him now, he was definitely leaning toward the latter.

". . . .slowly, more slowly. If you allow your mind to follow, it will be as a waking dream. Yes, I am certain. The pain will become distant, as if trying to reach you through a Verilian force field. . . ."

Jack walked forward and stepped around the curtain. Teal'c, who sat in a chair by Sam's bed holding her hand, acknowledged his presence with a nod. Teal'c looked almost himself, but Jack could see the effort behind his erect pose. Sam, who was still curled on her side, had her eyes closed and was breathing steadily, yet deliberately, her face a study in concentration, the lines of pain still drawn around her eyes.

"Do not analyze, Major Carter. You must release you mind, allow it to follow the path you have envisioned, along the beach, winding into the distance, the waves gentle roar in you ears. . . ."

Sam took a deep breath, then another, but then her eyes popped open. Her back was to him, and Jack wasn't aware that he'd made a sound or even moved, but she must have sensed him anyway. "Colonel?" she asked in a hoarse voice. Jack winced, and raised his hands a little in a gesture of apology toward Teal'c.

"Sorry, Carter. I didn't mean to distract you. Just keep doing what you were doing."

Sam ignored his suggestion. "Daniel, sir?"

Jack hesitated, then said, "No news yet. What I need from you is to take care of yourself. I'll take care of. . . ."

"No, sir," Sam said. She turned her head toward him, gritting her teeth at the pain even that small effort cost her. "I'm sorry, sir, I need to know." She took a shaky breath and continued. "You said you were going back through to get him, but something went wrong, didn't it?"

"I too would like to know the answer to that question, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "It is imperative that we bring Daniel Jackson home."

Ya think? Jack almost snapped, but he knew that it was only worry for their teammate driving their questions. He took a deep breath and walked around the side of the bed so Sam didn't have to turn to see him. He stumbling a little as he maneuvered around the IV pole andTeal'c reached up to steady him. Halas, who'd followed him across the room like some obedient shadow, pulled a chair around, and Jack sat down as naturally as he could, more relieved than he would ever admit to be off his feet. He looked up at the lieutenant and said, "Thanks," then jerked his head sideways, and the young man nodded and stepped far enough away to give them some privacy.

"Sir?" Sam persisted.

Jack hesitated again, finding it hard to say the words out loud. Finally, he sighed, slumping in his chair: "We can't get to him."

"What?" Sam said, trying to sit up. "We have to—"

"Carter," he said, interrupting her and putting his hand on her shoulder to encourage her to lie back down. When she didn't move, he said more quietly, "Sam."

Sam reluctantly let Jack help lower her to the bed, biting off a moan as she lay back down. She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again and both she and Teal'c stared at him.

Jack knew he needed to just spit it out. "We can't send a rescue party," he said, "because Lioss has a bunch of people hostage, old people, kids, and he says he'll kill them, and Daniel, if we even dial their Gate."

"Oh, god," Sam rasped, looking even more distraught.

"It will be O.K., Carter," Jack said, not believing his own words but knowing he had to try. "We'll figure something out. We've put in a call to the Tok'ra; they'll lend us a ship."

"If they answer at all," she whispered.

"Major Carter is right. It has often taken the Tok'ra days, even weeks to respond to our hails."

Way to sugarcoat it, Teal'c, Jack thought. He rubbed his hand across his face and sighed tiredly. "Yeah, well, let's hope they're faster this time. And you know when Jacob hears about this, he and Selmak will move heaven and earth—and the Tok'ra high council—to help."

Sam smiled a little at the mention of her father, but she didn't look convinced. Neither did Teal'c.

"And Marshal Lioss?" Teal'c asked, the disgust he felt for the man evident in his voice. "What has he demanded in return for the lives of Daniel Jackson and Major Carter?"

Jack looked sideways at Sam. "Teal'c. . . ," he reprimanded.

"It's all right, sir. I know what Lioss said. That—" Sam gasped and clutched Teal'c's hand more tightly, then let out a small whimper. She took three trembling breaths before she could continue "—that the poison will kill us," she finished.

"Fraiser will find a way, Carter," Jack said. "She. . . ."

"Sir, please," Carter interrupted through clenched teeth. "I don't know how long I can. . . . What did Lioss want?"

"He didn't say. He wants. . . . He wants to keep us hanging. He says he'll contact us when he's ready."

They were all silent for a long moment.

"And so we wait," Teal'c said.

Jack nodded, despair almost assaulting him again at the thought. "We wait," he said.

Teal'c contemplated that for another long moment, then turned toward Sam and said, "Major Carter, we will try again to help you reach a state of Kel'no'reem."

"No, Teal'c, you need to rest," Sam protested weakly.

"My symbiote has repaired me sufficiently for the time being."

I don't know if I can, Teal'c. I tried. . . ."

"We will try again. Remember, you must start by focusing on your breathing. Slowly. . . ."

As Jack watched Teal'c work his magic, he shook his head slightly, wondering for perhaps the thousandth time what he had done to deserve such an incredible team, how he'd come to be so fortunate, so blessed to end up with these people in his life. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Janet at his side. She jerked her head, mimicking his motion to Halas earlier, and he gave a grimace but pushed himself off the chair and followed her to a bed far enough away so they could talk without disturbing Teal'c and Carter.

"Is the muscle relaxant helping?" he asked, as soon as they were out of earshot. "Carter didn't seem quite as . . . bad as before."

"It seems to be," Janet said. "The muscle spasms had become quite intense, but after we injected the medication, we found that the next episode was not as severe, and didn't last as long. And that was almost an hour ago. If we can find the right balance, we might be able to spare her at least that pain."

"That's good, Doc. It's hard to see her so. . . ." Jack didn't know how to end the thought, so pressed on: "And an antidote? Are you anywhere close?"

Janet sighed and shook her head, and Jack could see that she was frustrated with his question. "I wish I could give you good news on that, Colonel, but right now it's still all guesswork."

Jack nodded, grimly, and looked over toward Carter's bed.

"And Teal'c. Should he even be out of bed?" he asked.

Janet almost smiled, albeit grimly. "No," she said. "And you should have been confined to a bed hours ago, and Major Carter shouldn't be discussing anything upsetting. . . ."

Jack just looked at her, and she went on. "But I know you all too well by now to think that you could do anything but what you're doing. Teal'c will be fine if he enters Kel'no'reem in the next few hours, and right now he's helping Sam more than I can. And Sam, well, Sam wouldn't rest until she knew what was happening with Daniel. And you, Colonel . . . you are finally going to let me examine you and give you the care you need."

When Jack didn't have a comeback, Janet raised her eyebrows, then looked at him with concern.

"Not that I'm surprised," Janet said, pulling out her penlight, "since you've been running around for hours with a concussion, but just how bad do you feel?"

"Not good," Jack admitted. "On a scale of one to ten, I think my head's maybe a twelve."

Janet shone her penlight in one of Jack's eyes, and he pulled back and growled, "Fifteen!"

Janet grimaced in sympathy but said, "Sorry, Colonel, you know the drill. And it could have been a lot worse than a concussion, obviously, if you hadn't thought to send your IDC before the Polistians tossed you back through the Gate."

"What?" Jack said.

Janet shook her head. She looked chagrined. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I know that wasn't funny. Let me get you something for the pain, and then we'll send you for a CAT scan."

"No," Jack said, "I mean, what do you mean, 'If I hadn't sent my IDC'?"

"I'm sorry," Janet said. "I thought you realized. . . . Teal'c and Sam thought you were staying on the planet and told the control room to close the iris. If they hadn't received a second IDC. . . .

Jack gaped at her. Jesus, he thought, for the first time realizing how close he'd come to being splattered into a thousand pieces. It hadn't even occurred to him. They'd closed the iris. Jesus.

"I didn't send the IDC," he said.

Janet, who was checking the bandage on Jack's arm, looked at him, then back at his wound. "You have a concussion, Colonel. Your memory is bound to play a few tricks on you."

"No," Jack said. "Even if I'd thought of it, there wasn't any time. I don't. . . ."

Jack stopped, his mouth open, and stared through Janet as he remembered the last moments on Polistia. He could see it now, see the image that hadn't made sense to him at the time. As he was dragged kicking and screaming toward the Gate, he'd turned toward Daniel and seen him raised part way off the ground, pointing his hand toward the Gate. Holy, crap. Jack suddenly felt nauseous again and put his face in his hands. Daniel, already in agony from the poison and even knowing he was about to be left behind, again, on some godforsaken planet, had still, somehow, had the presence of mind to realize what would have happened when Teal'c and Sam went through the Gate without them.

Jack raised his head and looked bleakly at Janet.

"Daniel," he said.

"Colonel?"

"I didn't send the code. Daniel did."