This is what happens when I watch Shades of Grey, immediately followed by my Poor Daniel Tour (The Light, Need, Meridian, Forever in a Day, Gamekeeper, Lifeboat & Legacy).
*sigh*
Daniel sat at his desk with his head in his hands.
You're a bright guy...
He squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of his conversation with Jack not- he looked at the date- a week ago.
You had to sense some of this...
Some of what? Some of the fact that his carefully placed trust in Jack had been broken with only a single conversation? That- even though it had turned out to be an elaborate plot to uncover a spy in the midst- he was still shattered?
Daniel leaned back in his chair, reaching for the stale cup of coffee on the edge of his desk. He grimaced as the bitter liquid hit his already unsettled stomach.
Stupid commissary coleslaw.
Did Jack mean what he said?
The friendship- it's all solid...
Really Jack? Are you sure? Because even though you sounded sincere, well, you sounded sincere back at your house.
When you told me that our friendship meant nothing to you.
He jumped as a hand contacted his shoulder.
"Daniel?"
"Jack?" Great.
"How're the rocks?"
Daniel stood quickly, brushing Jack's hand off none too subtly.
"They're artifacts, Jack. Not that you'd care."
He grabbed his blue civilian jacket off the back of his chair and quickly left the room. He needed to go home. Yes, where he could think about all this in peace- away from prying Colonels.
Daniel started to go towards SG-1's locker room- but realized that's precisely where Jack would go to look for him. And he might run into Teal'c. Or Sam.
He stepped into the elevator and headed toward the surface.
o-O-o-O-o
"Yes, thank you for your understanding, General. I'll see you on Monday."
Daniel placed the phone back into its cradle, glancing at his kitchen. He knew he should make something to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Maybe he could dig into one of his personal projects; he had a three-day weekend now.
Pouring some food into his fish tank, he swallowed hard at the sudden memory of his talk with Jack.
Why couldn't he get it out of his head?
He pulled open a drawer and found one of his newer artifacts, a tablet he'd won for twenty dollars at an auction. He was certain that there was no "meaning of life stuff," as his team eloquently put it, but it still looked like a beautiful piece of artwork covered by centuries of grim and dirt.
Daniel sat down at his desk, and flicked on the light. Taking a small brush and pick, he began to carefully clean the tablet.
About fifteen minutes into it, he felt his chest size up. Daniel swallowed down the tears and blinked a few times to keep working, but a few minutes later, another rush of emotion overcame him.
Did Jack even care anymore?
Did anyone?
He pushed the artifact away before the tears slipping down his cheeks ruined it. Daniel stood, pushed his chair in, and headed to the bathroom to get a tissue, but halfway there his stomach cramped painfully. He massaged it away, blew his nose, and went back to the kitchen to find something to eat.
The fridge was mostly empty, he wasn't sure of the last time he went grocery shopping. There were a few dried out carrot sticks and a mostly-gone bottle of ranch, so Daniel dumped them both onto a plate and ate quickly- more out of necessity than anything else.
He felt frantic and jumpy.
Exhausted.
He looked longingly at the phone. Should he call?
No.
Jack said their friendship was over in not so many words. Sam? She would side with Jack. Teal'c? Did the man even have friends?
Daniel swallowed back a sob, setting the half-finished plate of food in the sink. He took a deep breath and decided to simply take shower and curl up in bed.
The warm water soothed his coiled muscles, and he allowed himself an extra ten minutes under the pounding stream.
His head throbbed in time with his pounding heart, and his joints felt stiff and achy- even after the cleansing rinse. Daniel swallowed hard against a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, on its heels an overwhelming feeling of abandonment.
With shaking hands, he pulled an old, soft T-shirt over his head and wrestled his uncooperative arms through the holes. He didn't even bother with pants, simply crawling into bed wearing his boxers, falling asleep instantly.
o-O-o-O-o
"You made the wrong choice, Dannyboy," Jack snarled from above his prone body. Daniel flopped over onto his back, raising his arms above his head in anticipation of the next blow.
"You can't have a friend- you always screw it up,"
"No," Daniel whimpered quietly.
Jack drew back a booted foot and slammed it into Daniel's stomach, causing him to cry out in pain as wave after wave of nausea crashed over him.
Daniel shot upright, eyes wild, panting heavily. The walls of Jack's house swirled around him, blending with his own apartment. His stomach cramped violently, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling. He hit the ground with a thud and tried to crawl away from Jack- but his legs were tangled.
Daniel cried out in a panic as he rocked on his hands and knees before getting sick all over the carpet. He sat there, stunned, panting against the next wave of nausea, spitting the disgusting taste of regurgitated carrots from his mouth.
The mess he'd made swirled into focus as his eyes adjusted to the dark room around him.
A dream.
He'd had a dream- a nightmare more like it.
It would be easy to shrug off the illness as a byproduct of the violent makings of his imagination, but his pounding head, coupled with a cold sweat, pointed towards something else.
Daniel groaned as he leaned back against the mattress, careful not to sit in his mess, and scrubbed his palms against his forehead.
Bathroom. He had to get to the bathroom right now.
He swallowed hard and levered up on the bed, swaying as the dizziness overwhelmed his senses momentarily. He reached out to steady himself on the wall, only to smash into it with a thud.
His depth perception was completely shot thanks to his dizziness and the dark room.
Daniel pushed himself back and traced a hand along the wall until he gripped the bathroom door frame. Another powerful wave of nausea washed over him, and he stumbled towards the toilet, grunting as his knees hit the cold floor.
He just barely had time to raise the lid before he was vomiting again, all he could do was clutch the rim tightly to ensure he was making it into the toilet.
Daniel knelt in front of the bowl for a long time. Every time he went to push away and go back to bed, the dizziness caused by the action sent him heaving back to his new friend.
After fifteen minutes of the violent cycle, Daniel was exhausted, empty, and hurting. His headache had only worsened from the strain of upchucking his last meal or three, and the dehydration was already setting in. He remembered seeing a can of diet coke in his fridge- was that better than water? He couldn't remember.
Did he have a fever? He pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. It didn't feel hot- but wouldn't he be hot all over and unable to distinguish the difference? Another round of violent dry heaving interrupted his musings. He spat the string of spittle into the toilet and glanced at his watch. Nearing two in the morning. 0200. Jack had taught him that. Drilled into his mind over and over.
Remember, 1700 is 5 o'clock, not 7. 1900 is 7. Yes, it's important, Daniel. I need to trust you with this because I want you on my team.
Jack had wanted him on SG-1.
Did Jack still want him? No.
He'd broken off their friendship.
That thought sent his already upset stomach into hysterics. Daniel couldn't contain the sobs this time as he retched over and over, so empty it hurt. His stomach and his heart. His soul and being. He'd trusted Jack. Trusted him with his life- saved his life. He should have known. Everyone left eventually.
First, his parents. Then foster families, Sarah, then Sha're, countless friends and acquaintances against the Goa'uld.
Everyone left- just now it was Jack.
Why did it hurt so much this time?
Daniel managed to flush his mess down the toilet before ripping a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his shaking body.
He curled up on his cold linoleum, pressed into the corner furthest from the door, and wept.