1. Oops! In Russian

**Chapter 1 – Oops! (In Russian)**

Harry Maybourne gazed at the stargate as a team of four men and two women prepared for an offworld mission. It wasn't their first, but they weren't any of them so experienced that they could treat it with comfortable familiarity. All the faces were serious, though not grim, and several of the younger team members had an air of quiet excitement about them.

He stood behind the control console, arms crossed. Unlike the SGC, here there was no glass separation between the gateroom and the control room. They were simply on a raised platform set back from the gate aways. There was a young woman seated at the console, and Dr. Svetlana Markov, in charge of today's activities, stood to his left.

"Final check," she said in a clear voice that filled the room. "Do you all remember the time windows for your possible return?"

"We do, doctor!" the team's commanding officer called, and the other team members nodded.

"Very good." Markov nodded, then, turning to her own left, said, "Connect the DHD. We have a forty minute window."

Lt. Grishnovich nodded and made the requested energy connection. Dr. Markov stepped away from Harry's side and began to dial the gate coordinates. Before she was halfway through, though, the gate came to life of its own accord. A couple of the junior officers below started forward after the kawoosh subsided, but were checked by their commanding officer.

Dr. Markov stood up straight, staring in astonishment as Lt. Ivanova announced, "Incoming wormhole. There is a radio transmission." An energy blast came through the gate as she spoke, and everyone ducked.

Eyes wide with alarm, Markov shook her head. "We have no teams offworld at this time. Disconnect the DHD. Hopefully that will kill the wormhole."

Harry had leaned over the console, looking at the frequency of the radio transmission. As Grishnovich bent to obey Markov's command, he snapped, "No, don't!"

"What is it?" Markov asked, waving Grishnovich to wait. Another energy blast hit the wall behind them. "Maybourne?"

Without speaking, he reached out and flipped the switch that allowed the audio signal to come through. It started in mid-sentence. "– under fire! Repeat, we're coming in hot!" The sounds of energy weapons in the background told them that the fire fight on the other side of the gate was far worse than the few shots they'd received so far here. Another blast caused them all to duck.

"Who is that?" Markov asked, her brows knitting.

"That is Daniel Jackson," Harry replied. "I knew it was someone from the SGC, but I had no idea it was Jackson!"

"Bojemoi!" Markov breathed, eyes wide.

Daniel's voice crackled forth again, high with anxiety. "We're pinned down under hostile fire guys! Can you hear me? I need that signal!" He kept on like that, the way Jackson was wont to do.

Harry turned to Markov. "You know who Dr. Jackson is," he shouted. Occasional blasts were still flying through the gate. "If he dies because you don't let them through . . . because you shut the gate down –"

"What signal does he need?" she asked urgently. "Do you know it?" He nodded and her eyes went distant as she seemed to consider the situation for a moment.

Jackson's words broke off in a cry of pain. Maybourne didn't much like the archeologist, but the truth was that Earth needed him in the war against the Goa'uld. They couldn't afford to lose the only man who could readily translate just about any language he heard. "Well?" he demanded of Markov, who still looked undecided.

Jackson began to speak again, his voice very tense with pain and panic. "Now would be good, guys," he said. "Wendy's down with some kind of gut wound, Sumner's been hit in the shoulder, but he's still up. Harvester's been hit, but not badly I don't think. My leg –" He broke off with a yelp.

"Make a decision," Maybourne demanded. "But the gate can stay open for thirty-eight minutes, and I'm not sure you can shut it down with things going through."

"He is right, doctor," Ivanova said. "Once the gate is open, it is self-supporting. It does not need energy from us."

"Jones!" Daniel yelled, the sound almost overloading the speakers. "Get down!"

Markov's eyes flashed. "Give them the signal," she said.

Harry shoved Ivanova away from her post and typed rapidly. A moment later, the first of the refugees came through the gate. It was a pair of soldiers carrying a third, unconscious, between them. She had a wound on her left side that was bleeding sluggishly. At a nod from the Russian team's commander, two of the younger officers ran out of the room. The others had raised their weapons and the soldiers stopped, eyes wide with astonishment.

Markov was on the phone beside him, making some kind of a report in rapid-fire Russian. It was too fast and there was too much noise for him to understand her, but he imagined she was asking for instructions.

Two more figures emerged from the gate, Jackson with a nasty burn on his leg, the other man supporting him. Jackson looked about ready to collapse, but his eyes widened like blue headlights when he saw where he was, or rather, where he wasn't.

The last man through the gate was Colonel Sumner, running backwards. Not immediately recognizing the lower-ranked officers, Maybourne hadn't been sure before, but this appeared to be SG-8. Sumner ran backwards, firing through the gate as he came out, then he yelled, "Close the iris!"

Then he turned and stopped dead, facing the guns of the Russian gate team. Not lowering his own weapon, he stared around the room. "What in the hell . . ."

* * *

When the signal finally came, Daniel let out a call to the others. Jones and Harvester, Wendy's arms slung over their shoulders, went first. She was still unconscious, and her side was bleeding in a way that made it clear that she was in shock. Andy Myers came up to Daniel's side and helped him move away from the DHD, which he had been clinging to for support. They ducked as an energy bolt flew overhead, going through the gate. Thank heaven for the blast doors that protected the computer equipment.

"We're the last, colonel!" Andy shouted as they approached the threshold of the wormhole. Then they were through and Daniel stared about him in shock. He was used to facing squads of troopers holding weapons on him when he came through the gate, especially in a hot entry situation, but this wasn't the SGC and those troops weren't American military. He _knew_ he'd dialed the right coordinates, so where the hell were they?

Behind him, Colonel Sumner came through the gate, calling for the iris to be closed. Daniel wondered if they had an iris. Another blast came through the gate behind them, then the gate closed down. Daniel wanted badly to sit down, nearly overwhelmed with astonishment and pain, but sudden movements might set off the fellows with the guns.

"What in the hell?" Sumner demanded behind him.

At that moment, Daniel caught sight of a face that only added to his utter perplexity. _Harry Maybourne?_ The NID colonel had been missing ever since Jack had uncovered his smuggling ring. What on earth was he doing here? For that matter, where was here?

Beside Maybourne there was a woman talking on a telephone, her eyes very serious. She kept nodding, and Daniel wondered what she was being told. _Fire when ready? Shoot to kill?_

"Jackson?" Sumner asked in an undertone. "You sure you dialed the right address?"

"Pretty sure," Daniel replied in the same quiet voice.

Sumner just pursed his lips and looked sour. He lowered his weapon slowly and turned his attention towards the platform directly in front of them, where Maybourne was standing. Daniel caught the slight change of expression that betrayed his recognition of the former NID operative. Before Sumner could speak, though, the woman on the platform put down the telephone and looked up towards them.

Raising her voice, she spoke loudly in accented English. "Please surrender your weapons." _The Russians? How did the Russians get the gate?_ He shook his head. That she was Russian didn't mean that this was Russia or that it had anything to do with any government.

Daniel looked at Sumner, knowing full well that Jack would expect him to check before complying, even when complying seemed like the only logical option. His weapon wasn't even particularly threatening to their hosts, since it was still in its holster, and they'd probably shoot him if he reached for it like he meant to use it.

Sumner stepped forward, his weapon still down, but held firmly. "Before we do that, would you mind telling us where we are?"

The woman stared at them, tight-lipped, and said, "I am sorry, I cannot." Daniel saw Sumner's jaw tighten angrily. "Please, we wish to get you all medical attention, but we cannot take you further into the facility with your weapons."

Harvester and Jones had already lowered Wendy onto the stretcher and had covered her with the blankets the soldiers had offered them before backing off. Daniel turned towards Sumner who was still glowering at the woman on the platform. "Lt. Colfax could die if we wait much longer, sir," he said quietly, nodding towards Wendy.

Sumner glanced towards him and gave a slight nod. "Very well," he said, shifting his weapon in his hands so that it could be easily taken. The soldiers came forward then and relieved them of their weapons, and Daniel winced and grunted when one of them jostled him. As soon as Wendy Colfax was clear, the medics darted forward and carried the stretcher off. The rest of them took a little longer as they patted them down.

They waved Andy away and Daniel swayed on one leg while they examined him for hidden weapons. He looked up at Maybourne who was gazing intently at him. The minute their eyes met, Maybourne looked away. Daniel watched him, but Maybourne turned his back on him and walked out of the room.

When the folks patting them down were satisfied that both he and Andy were clean, Andy returned to hold him steady. "I can walk," he muttered.

"Like hell you can," Andy replied.

"Colonel Stanislav, please take our guests to the infirmary," the woman said.

Colonel Stanislav appeared to be the older man who had continued to hold his weapon on them while the others had retrieved the weapons. "Da," he said. "Follow me." He gestured at the rest of his party to take up the rear as he led them out of the room that held the gate.

Daniel followed, grateful for Andy's help despite his protest. His eyes scanned the walls and the uniforms of those around him, and he began to believe that they might really be in the hands of the Russian military, which didn't make sense. The Russians could not have gotten the gate. He just didn't believe that it could have been achieved in the space of three days. Politics could be insane, but not quite that insane.

Following Sumner's lead, they didn't talk much among themselves while the medical staff saw to them. They gave their names, which were a little hard to conceal anyway since Maybourne was here and their surnames were written on their chests. Daniel wasn't sure what else they could say. All of them had to be reeling in similar states of complete shock. Sumner did ask what had happened to Wendy Colfax, and was told that she'd been taken into surgery.

Daniel, aware that he was likely the only one who could understand them, listened to the talk he heard amongst their hosts, but they were only talking about the medical issues the group of them presented.

At one point, he had to translate the instructions a nurse was giving to Aaron Harvester, because she didn't speak English and he didn't speak Russian. Daniel didn't know what to think. The situation was unreal.

Once their injuries had been seen to, Colonel Stanislav approached Colonel Sumner. "Sir, we must move you to a more secure room now, but I am sure that you do not wish to leave your injured lieutenant alone. I have arranged for a hospital room with two beds for Lt. Colfax and Lt. Jones." Sumner looked at Tamika Jones, raising his eyebrow. "Will I have full access to them?" he asked.

"Within reason," Stanislav said.

"Can I at least see where they are being taken?" Stanislav agreed and the rest of them waited while Sumner went with Jones, Stanislav and a nurse. He and the Russian colonel returned a few minutes later, and the soldiers led them down the hall to a room that resembled one of the brig cells at the SGC. Two bunk beds against either wall, a table in between, and some storage space at the foot of the beds. There was a door in the left wall that presumably led to the restroom facilities, whatever those were. Daniel had been given a cane to help him walk, but Andy stayed right beside him as they walked into their prison.

Andy helped Daniel onto one of the lower bunks with his leg propped up slightly. The pain medication they'd given him was making Daniel's head swim. Sumner pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. "They say anything of interest, Jackson?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Not really. They were just talking about what was wrong with us. Nothing of any use."

"How is this possible?" Harvester asked, sounding baffled. "It makes no sense. Where are we?"

"Wherever we are," Sumner said, "we should really avoid the risk of being overheard. I'm sure the walls have ears."

"They have a DHD," Andy said abruptly, and Daniel looked at him in surprise.

"They have a what?" Sumner asked incredulously.

"I saw it when we were in their gate room. There's a DHD up on that platform."

"Where would they have gotten a DHD?" Harvester shook his head. "That's impossible! I don't even see how we could be on Earth. There's only one gate, and I don't really think General Hammond gave it up."

Daniel shook his head. His mind had gone into overdrive while the others talked. "There were two gates," he said thoughtfully. "One of them was destroyed, we think, when Thor's ship blew up and crashed in the Atlantic."

"No," Sumner breathed. Andy nodded slowly, and Harvester looked disbelieving.

Daniel couldn't help finishing out the train of thought. "And there has to have been a DHD in Egypt. We always assumed it had been destroyed, but what if it was just found at a different point in time? Without knowing that it was only part of the mechanism, someone could have taken it elsewhere, just as Dr. Langford's father took the gate."

"Surely we would have heard about it," Harvester protested. "A major find like that?"

"Like the whole world heard about the gate?" Daniel asked innocently. Harvester grimaced.

"No, it makes a lot of sense, Dr. Jackson," Sumner said. "But I don't see what it gains us."

Daniel sighed. "Not a whole hell of a lot," he said, shrugging.

"What I don't understand is why we're being held prisoner," Harvester said.

"Would General Hammond give foreign nationals free run of the SGC?" Andy asked and Harvester made a face at him.

"We're not precisely prisoners yet," Sumner said with emphasis. "We are being detained. When governments have to talk to each other, it can take time. They should let us know our status soon."

There didn't seem to be anything much to say to that. Daniel glanced at his watch and noticed that it was ten minutes past their check in time. The SGC was just becoming aware that there might be a problem. They'd open a gate and try to call them in another five or so minutes, and then they'd send a MALP. Would there still be Jaffa milling about? There would undoubtedly be evidence of the fight, shell casings, blasted trees and rocks . . . blood . . . and there would be no signs whatsoever of SG-8 or their borrowed archeologist.

What could they think but that they'd been captured or killed? He hoped the Russians were already contacting the American government, but given the secrecy they had to be operating under, he somehow doubted that they were going to made the decision quickly. There would no doubt be layers of red tape to wade through.

How many days would pass before they contacted the Americans and told them that all six of them were alive, and most of them were well? In the meantime, the SGC would be searching for them. After all, they never left a man behind. Would they call Jack? He wasn't even due back from his fishing trip until Monday, and he typically turned his phone off if he could get away with it.

Hours passed without anything happening, and eventually Daniel fell asleep. The sound of a door shutting woke him and he leaned up on his elbows, hissing a little at the twinge from his leg. The drugs were evidently still pretty strong in his system because it was only a twinge. Squinting, he scanned the room. "Where's Sumner?"

"They've taken him to see Colfax and Jones," Andy said. "I guess the surgery went okay."

"That's good." Daniel sat up and slid back to lean in the corner, trying not to wince. "Is there anything to drink? My mouth tastes vile."

Andy brought him a cup of water from a pitcher on the table, then sat down in a chair against the wall between the beds. Harvester was sitting on the opposite bed leaning morosely against the wall.

"How long has he been gone?" Daniel asked, once he'd had a couple of swallows.

"You woke up just after he left. How's the leg?"

"I'll live," Daniel said. "You in any pain, Harvester?"

The other man snorted. "Oh, it hurts all right, I just don't care."

Daniel nodded. "Know the feeling." He leaned his head against the wall. "How long was I asleep?"

"Two, three hours," Andy said.

They sat in silence for several minutes until Daniel said, "I don't suppose either of you has a deck of cards or something?"

"Nope," Andy said. "We already went through that series of questions. We are singularly boring people who brought nothing whatsoever along to entertain ourselves with."

"I could conjugate Greek verbs," Daniel said musingly.

The other two stared at him, blinking. "That might be fun . . . for you," Andy said with half a grin.

"But we'd have to kill you," Harvester said, and Daniel chuckled.

"You sound like Jack," he said. "He always gets a little irritable when I start conjugating things."

"You've done that?"

Daniel shrugged. "A time or two."

"How about twenty questions?" Andy said. "Harvester, come up with something."

Daniel listened while they played. About half the time, he had no idea who they were talking about even when they gave the answer. It was soothing, though, to have them talking rather than sitting silently.

They went through a couple of rounds and then some guys came in with dinner. They acted like they didn't understand the questions Jones and Harvester put to them, but Daniel, speaking Russian, asked, "Where is Colonel Sumner?" One of the men looked up, but neither answered.

They left and Daniel started to get up to get his food, but Andy said, "No, Daniel, stay there." He brought him the tray and Daniel ate while the other two continued to play twenty questions. They were almost finished with dinner, and Daniel was reasonably sure that they were talking about Sylvester Stallone, when the door opened, and they all fell silent.

Sumner walked in looking sour and irritable. The door closed behind him and he stood in front of it, eyes distant with thought, mouth tight with annoyance. "How is Wendy?" Daniel asked.

"Lt. Colfax is fine. She's sleeping now, but I was there when she woke up from the anesthesia. The blade went in pretty deep, it seems, and she was bleeding from various organs. They think they got all the leaks."

Daniel leaned his head back against the wall, relieved. One of the Jaffa who had surprised them had thrown a knife at Wendy. She'd gone down like a stone. Getting her to the gate hadn't been easy.

"So, what are they going to do with us?" Andy asked.

"I couldn't get anyone to answer that question," Sumner said. He walked over and sat down. "I was with Jones and Colfax all the time that I was gone."

"They have to send us home," Harvester said. "Don't they?"

"I'd think so," Daniel replied. "The question is, when?"

"When, indeed," Sumner said dourly.

Harvester settled back on the bed, looking distressed, and Andy said, "So, does he act in action films?" Sumner gave him an incredulous look, and he grinned. "Twenty questions, sir. So, Dave, does he act in action films?"

Harvester grimaced and shook his head. "Yes," he said. Andy nodded and looked thoughtful. Daniel closed his eyes, glad that at least one of them was capable of cheer at the moment.

* * *

All was right with the world. The sun was shining through the trees, the birds were chirping, and he had a bucketful of fish. Admittedly, a very large one had gotten away, but that was always the way of fishing. He hadn't managed to get anyone to come with him for this trip, but he was enjoying the solitude.

As he approached the cabin, he saw that there was someone on the dock. Someone in an Air Force uniform was shying rocks into the water, making them skip. Jack walked up. "So, you trying to scare the fish?" The young man turned around, and Jack recognized Sgt. Hanes from the SGC. He was pretty sure that Hanes was a junior assistant to Carter's geek squad. "Is the world coming to an end?" he asked, walking out onto the dock with the younger man.

"No, sir," Hanes replied, looking nervous. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jack didn't let him talk.

"I'm on vacation," he said.

"I know sir," Hanes replied, "but –"

"Which means that I don't work."

"Yes, sir, but –"

"And that I don't expect to see anyone from work."

"I know that, sir, but Dr. Jackson –"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I don't want to go on some archeological expedition. Vacations don't mean digging to me. They mean sitting around on my –"

"Sir, Dr. Jackson is missing!"

"– rear end drowning a –" Jack broke off, staring at the young man, who gulped. "What did you say?"

"Dr. Jackson is missing, sir," Hanes repeated.

Jack opened the top of his bucket and dumped the fish out into the water. "Where?" he asked.

"Where, sir?"

"Where is he?"

Hanes looked startled. "He's missing, sir," he said.

"Yes, but _where _did he go missing?"

Hanes looked around uneasily, as if expecting to see eavesdroppers among the trees. "I can't really say, sir. It's classified."

Jack blinked and thumped the bucket down on the wooden boards by his feet and turned to stride towards the cabin. Hanes followed him. Hurriedly, Jack grabbed the bare minimum and stuffed it into a duffel. Hanes stood by the door, his hat in his hands, playing with the flap of navy blue fabric. Jack turned around. "Ready?" he asked.

Hanes nodded and put his hat on. Jack locked the cabin behind him and followed him to his vehicle. He'd call the rental company from the base and have them come out and get the truck he'd rented. "We're going to the airfield in Barnwell," Hanes said. "There's a plane waiting for us there."

"Good," Jack said, tossing his stuff into the trunk when Hanes had opened it. "Hop in," he said, gesturing towards the passenger side. "I'll drive."

Gulping, Hanes did as he was told. "Do you need directions, sir?" he asked once they were underway.

"Been to this airfield a time or two, sergeant." Hanes fell silent and Jack drove as fast as he could without being stopped. "So, where was Daniel?" he asked after several minutes of silence.

Hanes was gripping the handle above the door far more tightly than was strictly necessary. He cleared his throat. "I really don't have many details, sir," Hanes said. "General Hammond just sent me to fetch you."

Translated, that meant that Hanes didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, for fear Jack would kill the messenger. It also meant that he wasn't going to get any useful information until he reached the base. Ignoring Hanes' reaction, he put on some more speed and made it to Barnwell in record time. When they got there, he chivvied the pilot and Barnwell tower to get things moving.

Once they were in the air, there was literally nothing he could do to speed the trip up – short of evicting the pilot and ignoring air traffic control. He started fiddling with whatever caught his attention, the zipper on his duffel, the tray table in front of him, the angle of his chair, till he thought Hanes was going to crawl out of his skin.

As soon as they were on the ground, Hanes led Jack to the car. Without a word, he climbed into the passenger seat and endured the ride in stony silence. Jack left him to deal with the car and hurried past the intake folks, barely nodding when one of them called after him that he was expected in the general's office. As if he wasn't going to go straight there anyway.

The people he passed on the way either pretended not to see him or nodded without speaking. Given how loudly he'd stated his intention of not returning to the base until the last minute of his leave was over, that was a little unusual. It only heightened his anxiety.

Hammond was waiting for him, clearly having been alerted to his arrival. "Come in, colonel," he said as Jack approached the door to his office. "Have a seat."

"What happened?" Jack asked without preamble. "The last time I saw Daniel, he was telling me he'd rather play with his rocks than go fishing. How did he go missing? Where the hell did he go?"

Hammond's expression was uncommonly serious as he sat down. "P(string)," he said.

Jack's jaw dropped. "Offworld? He disappeared offworld?"

"SG-8 found some very old ruins there on their recon, and they requested Dr. Jackson."

"And you let them take him?" Jack demanded incredulously. "Haven't I said – eighty times or so, I'd swear – I don't want Daniel going out with other teams. Do you remember what happened with SG-11?" Jack remembered himself abruptly. "Sir."

"Sit down, Jack," Hammond said. Jack sat down in the chair across from the desk and waited for the general to go on. "There was no sign of intelligent life on the planet, and no sign of recent Goa'uld presence. It seemed like a simple archeological expedition."

"I take it something changed?"

Hammond grimaced. "They missed a contact time and didn't respond when we tried to call them through the gate. We sent a MALP and it was fired on by Jaffa."

Jack clenched his fists. "Whose Jaffa?" he asked.

"It looked like Cronos. The MALP transmission didn't last very long. We're not even sure why they were on the planet, there was no sign of anything they'd be interested in."

"How long ago was this?"

"About six hours," Hammond replied. "Major Carter should be sending a UAV right about now."

"Damn it!" Jack stood up and turned around, glaring at the back wall of the office.

"Sir?" Jack turned toward the door at Carter's voice. "Um . . . sirs," she amended. "The Jaffa are gone from the gate. There's no sign of them anywhere in the vicinity."

"Did you pick up any sign of a ship in orbit, major?" Hammond asked.

"No, but that doesn't necessarily mean there isn't one. The UAV wouldn't pick up something on the other side of the planet."

"Permission to run a recon, sir?" Jack said immediately.

"Jack," Hammond said repressively.

"Sir, we need to go find out what happened."

"Jack, I already had one team disappear on that planet. We don't know why."

"There were Jaffa, sir. I think that offers a pretty good explanation."

"Well, I'm not sending another team until I can be certain I'm not just sending you to be shot." Jack started to say something else, but Hammond shook his head. "Not yet."

Recognizing a dismissal, Jack left the office, Carter falling in beside him. "We'll get him back, sir," she said.

"Assuming he's there to be gotten back," Jack said, then strode off, leaving her behind. One of these days Daniel's luck, or whatever it was that had preserved him thus far, was going to run out. He just hoped this wasn't one of those times.


	2. Secrets and Lies

**Chapter 2 – Secrets and Lies**

The next day in the cell passed entirely without information. Further medical treatment was given, some games and books were delivered, Sumner was taken to see Jones and Colfax, and that was that. Daniel wondered what was going on in the world of politics. Were the Russians asking for some kind of concession to send them home?

Sumner was taciturn at the best of times, but it was easy to tell that the lack of information was galling him. Daniel sympathized. It would be nice if they'd just let them know what was being discussed.

"So, have they told you anything yet?" Dave Harvester asked when Sumner got back from his dinnertime visit to Wendy Colfax and Tamika Jones.

"Not a word," Sumner replied. "I get the feeling they're waiting for something."

"Waiting for what, though?" Harvester asked.

"Waiting for someone to decide that the secrecy of this program doesn't outweigh how irritated the United States is going to be if they don't give us back soon," Daniel said. At the moment he hoped the Russians were listening.

"They shouldn't even have us," Andy said. "It's going to take some thought to figure out how they're going to explain this little situation to the Pentagon."

Sumner sat back. "Well, talking about it isn't going to make it happen any sooner. Jackson, you want to play a game of chess?"

"Sure." They set up the board on one of the chairs and played several games until Daniel was too sleepy to sit up.

* * *

Jack was itching to get moving. After a full day of waiting, General Hammond had finally given permission for a recon. He walked into the gateroom with Teal'c at his side. Feretti's team was already there, and so was Carter, getting her science stuff together. Captain Michaels, the temporary fourth that Hammond had insisted on was also waiting.

When Jack stopped, Teal'c came to a halt beside him, his expression dark and foreboding. He, too, had been away from the base for a vacation, visiting with his family. He'd arrived back, ready for war. He had a particular grudge against Cronos, and was not thrilled by the notion that Daniel might have been captured by him.

Hammond walked into the gateroom, grim faced. He nodded towards Jack and put a hand on his shoulder to guide him a little away from the rest of the folks preparing for the mission. "Feretti?" Lou walked over and stood attentively. "I want you to dial the gate as soon as you get through and keep in radio contact. That way you have an easy retreat if it's needed."

"Yes sir," they both said.

"Now go, and godspeed." He nodded up at the control room and they started the dialing process. Squeezing Jack's shoulder, he walked towards the stairs to the control room. Jack looked at the gate. This wasn't even going to tell them where Daniel and the others were. It was just the barest first step in the process.

"We'll find him, colonel," Feretti said.

The gate whooshed on and Jack looked up at the blue circle. "Let's go, people," Jack called. "Feretti, your team is to set up a perimeter. Carter, as soon as we're through, start scanning for ship or com traffic." She nodded. "Michaels, as soon as the gate goes down, dial home and start sending some kind of message through to keep the gate open."

"Yes sir," Carter said, and they all headed through the gate. While the others got about their business, Jack looked around the clearing that the stargate stood in. There were blasted trees, a shattered rock, burned leaves. The ground was churned up, and there were signs of blood in the dirt.

He walked forward, out of the way of the gate so that Michaels could dial it up. He scanned the trees. "We picking up any signs of tech, Carter?"

"No sir," she replied, continuing to work with her scanner.

"That doesn't mean it isn't out there, it just means it's out of range or powered down. Teal'c, Mendez, scout the surrounding area."

Teal'c and the lieutenant from SG-2 nodded and walked out of the clearing together. Jack took a few steps further forward. "Why isn't the gate up yet, Michaels?"

The marine captain looked up, eyes wide. "Sir, I think you should see this."

Alarmed, Jack walked around to where Michaels was standing. On the ground by the DHD there was a small, dark green case, blackened and partially destroyed. He squatted down and looked at it. A narrow strip of metal was poking out the hole in the end. Jack reached out and picked it up. There was blood on it as well as ash. He opened it up and looked at the remains of Daniel's spare pair of glasses. One of the lenses had half-melted.

Carter walked up. "That's Daniel's glasses case," she said.

"Thank you, Carter, for stating the blindingly obvious," Jack snarled. With a supreme effort, he got control of himself. "Let's hope its owner is in better condition."

"Right," Carter said.

They examined the clearing and collected what evidence there was. Leaving SG-2 to guard the gate, SG-1 followed the trail left by the Jaffa to what was clearly a site where a tel'tak had landed. There was no sign of any ship now.

"I believe they have gone, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"But did they take SG-8 with them or not?" Jack asked.

"I do not believe so," Teal'c said, shaking his head in puzzlement. "If there had been prisoners, the tracks would have been different."

"So where would they be?"

"They must be elsewhere on the planet," Carter suggested. "Maybe they were running from the Jaffa, and that's why they were waiting at the gate. Waiting for them to attempt to return to the gate to go home."

Teal'c shook his head. "No, if that were the case, they would still be here. And it makes no sense. They clearly reached the gate, DanielJackson was at the DHD. They would not then have left."

"What else could explain this?" Carter asked.

"Forgive me," Michaels said, "but what would the Goa'uld have done with the bodies if they'd killed them?"

Jack grit his teeth, but he didn't say anything. Carter's lips twitched in a mute gesture of denial. Teal'c cleared his throat. "They would either have left the bodies where they lay, or they would have taken them back as trophies. But I believe they would have tried to take them alive, DanielJackson in particular."

"That whole 'day's rations' thing?" Jack asked. Teal'c nodded. "As it happens, though, I think there's another option we haven't considered."

"What's that?"

"Daniel might have misdialed the gate." Sam looked startled, Teal'c incredulous. "I know, it seems unlikely, but he was hurt. He keeps those glasses in the thigh pocket of his pants. For them to have gotten hit like that . . ."

Carter nodded dubiously. "Still, he's got that address pretty well ingrained. I have difficulty imagining Daniel misdialing."

Teal'c pursed his lips. "If he was injured and unable to dial, someone else might have made a mistake."

"Regardless, we might need to look for them elsewhere."

"There aren't many gate addresses that work that are that close to Earth's."

"Maybe he went somewhere else on purpose," Jack said.

"Why would they go somewhere else?" Carter demanded.

"If they had, they would have contacted us," Teal'c replied. "Nevertheless, we should search any planets that are close enough to Earth's address to be an accidental misdial, and we need to search this planet to see if they have hidden themselves somewhere here."

"Right." Jack grimaced. Picking up his radio, he called the base and reported as much to Hammond. With dismay, the general agreed to the plan and sent through two more teams to help with the searching. Jack sent Carter back to start generating possible gate addresses that Daniel or another team member might have hit in error. He hoped it wouldn't take too long.

* * *

Daniel was getting very bored. Several more days passed without much change. The only variation from their first full day was the addition of a trip outside for about an hour each day. Sumner went to sit with Colfax while Tamika Jones joined the rest of them for an hour outside. Then Sumner got his trip outside when they went back in.

No information was provided to them, no news from the outside world. Daniel asked for some every time their guards interacted with them. Sumner grew more and more worried as the days went by, though he tried not to show it.

When Daniel woke up on Wednesday morning, Sumner was already awake, playing solitaire in grim silence. Dave and Andy were still asleep. Daniel rolled over and looked at his watch. It was just past five in the morning.

"Go back to sleep, Jackson," Sumner said quietly. "No need for you to wake up yet."

Daniel sat up. "Did I go to sleep rather abruptly last night?" he asked, blinking.

"Sort of," Sumner said. "Between one sentence and the next. How are you feeling?"

"Very achy. I hate burns."

Sumner nodded. "You should probably sleep."

"Don't think I can, not right away at any rate. Why are you awake?"

Sumner didn't reply. He returned to his cards and Daniel got up to use the facilities. Then he sat back down on the bed to read. Having his leg outstretched was the only comfortable position he could find to do anything in. Daniel imagined the colonel was having trouble sleeping. After all, they'd come through the gate on Friday. It was now Wednesday morning, and they still didn't know what was going to happen to them.

Daniel didn't believe that there was any real risk that the Russians were going to refuse to send them home, but their unwillingness to provide them with any information was growing irritating. There wasn't a lot they could do about it, though.

The book in his hands was one he'd read before, but this was a translation into Russian, and it was very interesting to see how the translator had handled the text. Or mishandled the text, as it happened.

Breakfast came and the others woke up. A doctor came in and checked their injuries and gave them their medications. As always, Daniel tried to ask them for information, but as always, they stuck to the bare minimum of communication. Daniel got Sumner to play chess with him, Harvester and Andy played some gin rummy. It was better than sitting around doing nothing.

Just before lunchtime, the door opened to admit Colonel Stanislav. "Dr. Jackson, Colonel Sumner, if you would both please come with me?"

Daniel looked up, a little surprised. Sumner rose and helped him to his feet. Daniel could tell that the colonel was as startled as he was, but neither of them said anything. Andy handed Daniel his cane, and, though the lesson Jack had taught him about appearing weak in prison was floating in his head, Daniel took it.

They followed the Russian colonel through the halls, Sumner watching warily as they walked, keeping his pace down to Daniel's, and thereby forcing their guide and guards, for there were two men following behind them, to slow down as well.

They stopped at a door and Colonel Stanislav opened it. Sumner turned to Daniel and, grimacing, Daniel walked forward into the room. It was empty apart from a couple of chairs and a table. He heard a voice behind him. "No, colonel, not –" Daniel turned to see the door closing behind him. Immediately, Daniel tried the door, but the knob wouldn't turn.

"Hey!" He pulled on the door, trying to open it. "What's going on?"

There was no answer but silence and he licked his lips uncomfortably. Turning, he looked around the room again. There were no windows and no other doors. There was a mirror, one of those big wide mirrors like you see on _Law & Order_, where the cops and lawyers stood on one side and watched what was going on while someone else questioned the prisoner inside the room. Daniel glared at it and took a deep breath. They probably just wanted to know more about the American stargate program, and if they had Maybourne in their pay, they knew how high up Daniel was in that program.

Not that they were going to get anything out of him, but if that was how the wind was blowing, it might take even longer to get home than he'd initially thought. If they were willing to risk diplomatic incidents to find out more details . . .

He walked over and shifted the two chairs so that he could sit with his leg up. He drummed his fingers on the table, fully aware that ordinarily he'd have been pacing, but his leg wasn't up to it after the walk. The blisters that had come up after the burn were finally subsiding, but bending his leg was still painful.

His suspicion that they were already watching him was confirmed when the door opened and a young blond man walked in carrying a chair. Another man, older, with streaks of gray in his dark hair, followed him, carrying some files, one very large, several quite small. The young man looked very military in his bearing and precision of dress, but the second was paunchy and somewhat sloppy. The soldier with the chair set it down on the opposite side of the table from where Daniel was sitting and left again. The other man put his files down and looked at Daniel. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Jackson."

"Sorry, I can't say the same," Daniel said, "but I can't really be said to have met you yet."

The man blinked at him in surprise, then smiled. "I apologize, Dr. Jackson. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Gavril Herszkowiczow, doctor of linguistics."

Daniel nodded. "I see." He could well believe it. The man's English was absolutely perfect. "I'm sorry, I've never heard of you."

Herszkowiczow shrugged self-deprecatingly. "You would not have. My work has all been military in nature, during the Cold War. However, I have heard of you." He tapped the largest file. "In fact, we've heard a great deal about you, your recent work in particular. May I offer my condolences on the death of your wife?"

Daniel stiffened. "Right, well . . ." How much had Maybourne told them? Sha're hadn't been dead for much more than six months, and his emotions were a little too raw for close examination. He shook his head. "So, when are you folks going to send us home?"

"I really do not know," Herszkowiczow said without much interest. "I've just been asked to have you look at a few things, to see if you can tell us anything about them." Daniel looked at him disbelievingly as he pushed the smaller files towards him. "They're all a little beyond me, but given your vast experience, we thought you might be able to see something I can't."

Though he was burning with curiosity, Daniel didn't even touch the files. "I'd have to get permission from my superiors first."

"Come now, Dr. Jackson," Herszkowiczow said persuasively. "I'm sure they would not object to your taking a look and talking to us about a few tablets."

Daniel smiled tightly, keeping his temper in check with some effort. "Then why don't you let me call them, and I'll ask?" Herszkowiczow pursed his lips irritably. "And why did you separate me from Colonel Sumner?"

"We have different things to talk to him about. He would not be able to answer any questions about alien languages."

"No, I suppose not," Daniel said. He looked down at the files, curiosity and anger warring within him. He looked up to the other man's eyes. "I don't suppose you know if my people have been contacted yet?"

Herszkowiczow shook his head. "I don't know. It's not my department, Dr. Jackson. I'm a linguist, I'm not privy to those kinds of decisions."

Daniel rolled his eyes and leaned back, crossing his arms. "I'm not sure what we have to talk about, then."

The other linguist gave him a puzzled look. "Surely your work matters more than some meaningless political debate," he said. "Lives could be saved by the translation of those documents."

Daniel's anger snapped free from control. "Lives could be lost in the search for us. The SGC won't just give us up for lost. They're going to be searching for us, and that means they're taking serous risks."

"There's nothing you or I can do about that," Herszkowiczow said. "We're civilians. The military only pays attention to us when they feel like it. You might as well be useful as sit in a room with nothing to do."

He narrowed his eyes. "I would prefer to work, I admit, but I do need permission. See if you can arrange that, and then we can talk."

Herszkowiczow gave him a long, measuring look, then he reached forward and opened the file that sat in front of Daniel. There were photographs, notes and a rubbing. The other linguist launched into an explanation of the origin of the artifact pictured, but Daniel just looked away, trying to close his ears. With the other man talking, though, mentioning details about the site and the methods used to excavate the artifact, the age of the object, Daniel was hard-pressed to feign a lack of interest.

Finally, he turned to face Herszkowiczow. Cutting across his lecture, he said, "Look, there's no point in saying that I'm not interested. You damned well know I'm interested, but I'm not playing this game. You contact my government, let me talk to my superiors. If they agree to my working with your artifacts, I will be glad to, but without that, I categorically refuse to help you."

Herszkowiczow took a deep breath. "Is that your final word, Dr. Jackson?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so," Daniel replied, glaring up at Dr. Herszkowiczow.

The other linguist rose and left the room, taking the files away with him. Daniel wondered what was next. He also wondered what was happening with Sumner.

Lunchtime came and went, and Daniel's rear end started to fall asleep. He was alone in a room with absolutely nothing to do but think. His stomach started rumbling, but he ignored it, focusing his thoughts on what little they had discovered on P4L-429 before the Jaffa had come. He was reasonably certain that he knew what had brought the Jaffa. During the attempt to unbury enough of one of the monuments they'd found, they'd uncovered a piece of abandoned computer equipment which had started beeping the minute Harvester had touched it. They'd managed to shut it off, but it must have sent a signal.

Sumner had decided against heading home immediately, and Daniel had continued to work on the monument, getting as much useful data from it as he could. It had appeared to be part of an ancient temple to Cronos, but there was clear evidence of vandalism on the text, and a few runes. Daniel suspected that the planet had come under Asgard protection at some point in the distant past, but that the peoples who had lived there had either moved elsewhere or died. As such, there could be some useful information to learn about how the Asgard fought the Goa'uld. They might not deliberately share their technology, but there was no saying that the humans couldn't use anything that they found out on their own.

Eventually, the door opened and another man came in. This one didn't have the paunchy look the academic had. His hair was white and cut short with precision. He wore fatigues marked with the rank of colonel, and his eyes were cold and hard. "Dr. Jackson, I understand that you are refusing to do any work with Dr. Herszkowiczow," he said without preamble.

"Not exactly," Daniel replied carefully.

"Then you will work with him?" asked the colonel. His English was accented, but very fluent. "I am glad to hear it."

"That's not quite what I said either," Daniel replied. He was finding this more than a little alarming. Where in the hell was Sumner? "I told Dr. Herszkowiczow that I would work with him if I had the permission of my superiors. Without that, I'm afraid I can't."

"I see." The strange colonel walked over and leaned one hip on the table right in front of Daniel, forcing the archeologist to look up to see his face. "Perhaps you would like to reconsider? We do need your help, and diplomacy can take a very long time to work.'

"I'm sorry," Daniel said, swallowing nervously. "Maybe this will give you some incentive to get things worked out a little faster." The other man's eyes snapped with anger and Daniel lifted his chin. "So, what's your name?" he asked.

"I am Colonel Metzov."

"Well, Colonel Metzov, I'm getting very hungry, and I need to use the restroom." Daniel looked around the room. "Is there any way that a solution to those problems could be arranged?"

"We shall see, Dr. Jackson," Metzov said. "Get up."

Carefully, Daniel lowered his injured leg to the floor and grabbed his cane to help him stand up. Without a word, Metzov turned and opened the door, leading Daniel out of the room. There were two soldiers waiting, and they took up the rear as Daniel followed the colonel. The pace they kept up was not easy for him, but he wasn't about to ask them to slow down.

They reached an elevator and stopped. Daniel didn't recall any elevators, stairs or even sloping floors on his trip to that interrogation room from the cell he'd been sharing with Sumner, Andy and Harvester. "Where are we going?" he asked. Metzov didn't reply, he merely pressed the call button, and the two soldiers looked completely stolid. "Colonel Metzov, where are you taking me?" When there was still no response, Daniel shook his head. "I won't move another foot until you tell me where you're taking me."

The elevator doors opened and Metzov walked inside. Daniel didn't move. He was uncomfortably aware of the soldiers behind him, blocking any hope of retreat. Metzov reached out to the keypad inside the elevator. "Come in, Dr. Jackson," he said calmly.

"Not unless you tell me –" Metzov made a gesture, and the men behind Daniel hustled him into the elevator car. Daniel tried to remain where he was, but injured and not trained to the same standard, he didn't have any real hope of succeeding. They got him into the elevator and Metzov took his hand off the open doors button and pressed another. Daniel guessed the translation of the abbreviation would come out to 'Basement Level 3.' This wasn't looking hopeful. "Where are you taking me?" he asked. "Did you move the others?" No answer. "I want to see Colonel Sumner."

The elevator came to a stop and Daniel took a step backwards, grabbing onto the handrail on the back wall. Metzov turned and glared at him. "Dr. Jackson, let go."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm not moving until you answer my questions," he said. "What's going on here?" Metzov raised an eyebrow towards the two soldiers who came towards Daniel. "I'm not going to go quietly," Daniel said, raising his cane. "And injuries might be a little hard to explain, since we're not prisoners."

The soldiers looked at Metzov who nodded. One of them grabbed for the cane and Daniel whacked him with it. They made short work of subduing him, taking the cane away and making him walk out of the elevator. Daniel wondered if this meant he wasn't going to see the others again, because Sumner would raise holy hell when he heard about this.

They marched him down the hall and around a corner to a room that contained a long bench, a toilet and a sink. There was a tray of food on the bench. They pushed him inside and closed the door behind him. Daniel turned and looked out the grill in the upper part of the door. Metzov gazed in at him without apparent emotion. "Hand the tray out through the slot when you're done, Dr. Jackson, and give some thought to what we've asked you to do. It's not as if it would be treason."

With that he left, and one of the two soldiers took up a post beside the door. Daniel took a deep breath and walked over to the toilet. He really didn't like the fact that there was a window in the door, depriving him of privacy, but needs were needs. He used the facilities and sat down to eat. If they thought that the American government wouldn't be willing to lend them his skills as a translator and anthropologist, they were probably right, but this treatment wasn't likely to change their minds. It certainly wasn't recommending them to Daniel.

Stress and the weariness created by the healing process combined to make Daniel very sleepy. Once he'd finished his food, that tiredness only increased. He put the tray out through the slot and went back to the bench to lie down.

He really hoped that he'd be returned to Sumner and the others in the morning, but he didn't have any idea what to expect. Things had taken a sudden left turn today, and he was lost.

When Daniel woke up, he got himself cleaned up the best he could and went to the door of the cell. There was no one outside, and his watch said it was past six a.m. He tried to open the door, not expecting it to move, and his balance was thrown off completely when it came open smoothly in his hand. He stumbled backwards, cursing in Abydonian. Catching himself, he peered around the doorway and saw no one.

He didn't know what to think. He walked slowly and nervously out of the cell, not sure what might happen. Who had unlocked the door? He'd checked it the night before when he sent the tray through and it had been locked then. Why wasn't it locked now? He walked carefully along the corridor and around the corner that led to the elevator.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" demanded a voice in startled Russian. Daniel turned and bit down on a groan as a soldier seized his arm and shook him.

"It's the American they were looking for upstairs, Dimi," another young soldier said in Russian, coming up next to him. In very careful English, he said, "Please do not move." Daniel bit his lip. Returning to his native language, he added, "Be careful with him, Dimi, he's supposed to be hurt."

_The American they were looking for . . . _Daniel was baffled. Who was looking for him and why?

Within minutes, Colonel Stanislav showed up and took custody of Daniel. "Come along, Dr. Jackson," he said gruffly. Daniel followed him haltingly into the elevator. "How did you get down to this level?" Daniel gulped but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. "How did you get out of that room?"

Daniel took a deep breath. "Aren't there video tapes?" he asked. "Surely there's a camera."

Stanislav pursed his lips and didn't ask anything else. He returned Daniel to the cell where the others were, ushered him inside and left.

"Jackson, where have you been?" Sumner demanded. Daniel leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The other men went into a flurry of action, getting him to the bed and lying down. Daniel grimaced when they inadvertently grabbed him on some bruise or another from the previous night's rough treatment, but he didn't say anything. Andy brought him a cup of coffee, and he smiled his thanks. Sumner pulled up a chair beside the bed and said, "Jackson, where have you been? Stanislav said that when he went back to that room we left you in, you weren't there, but that he wasn't sure how you'd escaped."

Daniel blinked. "Escaped?" He snorted. "Did he tell you why I was in there?" Daniel asked.

Sumner opened his mouth and closed it again. He cleared his throat. "He said they wanted you to look over some projects of theirs to see what you thought." Daniel nodded. "What did happen?"

"More or less that, at first," Daniel said. "A linguist, or at least he said he was a linguist, a man named Dr. Gavril Herszkowiczow came in and asked me to do some work for the Russian program, do some translation that he wasn't up to. I told them I couldn't without the permission of my superiors."

Sumner nodded. "That's what they told me." He grimaced. "They asked me to order you to, and I said I couldn't, and that you wouldn't be bound by my orders in any case. They didn't like that answer, I must say."

"I would imagine not," Daniel replied.

"You said 'at first.' What happened later?"

Daniel shook his head. "Something extremely fishy is going on here," he said. "After Herszkowiczow left, I was alone for hours, and then a Colonel Metzov came in and seemed to be taking up where Herszkowiczow had left off. He asked me to reconsider, told me that they need my help and that diplomacy can take time." Sumner raised an eyebrow. "I still refused," Daniel continued, "but I asked for a bathroom and food. He took me out of there and down to a room on another level. A prison cell. He told me I should think about doing what they wanted, then left me there. When I woke up this morning, the door was unlocked. Some young soldiers grabbed me and called in that they'd found the 'missing American.' I really don't understand what's going on here."

"So you didn't escape?" Sumner asked.

"No, sir. I was a little freaked when they took me to an elevator, since I knew I was still on the same level with this room, and I tried to get away, but –" He shook his head. "I didn't have any success."

"Did they hurt you?" Sumner asked.

Daniel shrugged. "Not much. Bruises. They took the cane, though, after I hit one of them with it."

"Bruises where?"

"My arms, I'd say, mostly."

"Get your shirt off. Let me see."

Unwillingly, Daniel took off his shirt and Sumner gazed with stern disapproval at the hand-shaped bruises on Daniel's upper arms. "They didn't hit you?" he asked.

"No," Daniel replied. "But just now Stanislav acted like he didn't know anything about it. He asked how I got out of the room, and when I asked him if there wasn't a video tape, he shut up completely." Sumner looked quietly furious and the two younger men looked ready to kill something. They were looking at Daniel's upper arms, white except for the purpling bruises. He pulled his shirt back on and said, "I don't know what's going on."

"I'm going to find out," Sumner said with a growl in his voice.

After that they all settle down to silence. Daniel got a book and started reading, and ate the left overs from breakfast.

When Stanislav returned just before lunch, Daniel looked up at him apprehensively, but he just summoned Sumner.

Lunch came and they ate it, and Sumner came back about an hour afterwards. "Well, that was charming," he said when the door was closed.

"What did they say?" Daniel asked.

"They claim that there is no Colonel Metzov on the base, and that you probably made up the story to avoid explaining how you got out of the interrogation room."

"How do they explain those bruises?" Andy asked.

Sumner grimaced. "Stanislav apologized for the fact that the two young guards who found you had apparently gotten a little over-zealous in their handling of you, and told me that they would be reprimanded."

Daniel shook his head incredulously. "I'm not making this up," he said.

"I believe you," Sumner replied, sitting down. "I can't make heads or tails of this."

"Did you get to see Colfax and Jones today?" Daniel asked.

Sumner nodded. "They're fine, and don't report anything odd."

"Good."

"Any news on when we're getting out of here?" Harvester asked.

"Stanislav said that the top brass of this program haven't yet decided how they want to go about revealing the truth to our government, so it's going to take a little longer."

Daniel thumped his head against the wall. A little longer meant that they had more time to mess with him. What were Jack, Sam and Teal'c doing? If one of them got hurt or killed, if anyone got hurt or killed because of this delay, Daniel was going to . . . He gritted his teeth. "Could someone grab me a book? I need to not think about this."

Wordlessly, Andy handed Daniel the book he'd been reading earlier. He tried to lose himself in reading, but he couldn't. What was going on here? The Russians had screwed up, playing secrets and lies with a second gate, but didn't they realize that holding them would only make the problem worse? They couldn't be planning on holding them too much longer, surely.

Were they still using their gate?

* * *

Jack stood in Hammond's office, out of options. They'd searched all the gate addresses that could even remotely be thought to be misdials for Earth. They'd searched P4L-429 and had found no signs of their people, either hidden or dead. Jack didn't know what to do.

"We have officially declared them missing in action," Hammond said. "Beyond that, I don't know what else we can do. I contacted the Tok'ra on the second day after they went missing, but I haven't heard back from them."

"Sir, we can't just give up," Carter said earnestly. "Those Jaffa belonged to Cronos. Maybe we can find one of his worlds and see what we can learn."

Hammond shook his head. "The Tok'ra are much better suited to that kind of work," he said. "If they can't or won't help us, I will consider that option, but in the meantime, I don't want to risk anyone else on that hazardous an endeavor."

"I would not have difficulty insinuating myself," Teal'c said. "As Jaffa, I could –"

"You're known, Teal'c," Hammond said. "Specifically, you're known to Cronos, and we all know you have a particular grudge against him. I don't think it's a good idea."

"So what do we do now?" Jack asked.

"We go on," Hammond replied. "We do our jobs and keep our eyes and ears open for any hint of what might have happened to them."

"That's not good enough!" Carter exclaimed. "Sir," she added.

"Daniel wouldn't give up on us," Jack said.

"Indeed, he would not," Teal'c added.

Hammond's face contorted with frustration. "Have any of you got a viable plan to offer for a way to find them?"

"I . . ." Carter shook her head. "I don't, sir," she said. "But I don't want to stop trying to find one."

"No one's saying you have to," Hammond replied. "But we can't neglect our other duties when there's no clear path to take to find them." He looked at all three of them, catching their eyes. "Dismissed." The others left, but Jack move. "Yes, colonel?" Hammond said, sounding tired.

"I can't stop looking for him, sir," Jack said.

"Jack –"

"If you won't let me go to one of Cronos' worlds, let me go to the Tok'ra and try to convince them to help."

"I'll give it some thought, colonel," Hammond said. "Dismissed."

Jack left the office feeling utterly furious. He didn't know what to do. He went to Daniel's office and gazed around at the piles of papers, artifacts and other debris. "Damnit, Daniel! Why couldn't you just have stayed here and played with your rocks?"


	3. Opposition in Chaos

**Chapter 3 – Opposition in Chaos**

The next day started out normally. Daniel was nervous, and he was sure the others picked up on it, but no one said anything. Metzov hadn't seriously hurt him, but he could have if he'd chosen to. Daniel didn't like the game that was being played, and none of them had the smallest control over it.

Just after lunch, Stanislav showed up with several soldiers and Dr. Herszkowiczow. Daniel stiffened on seeing the man, but he didn't say anything. Stanislav said, "Colonel Sumner, I'm here to take you to see your female subordinates. These men will take Captain Myers and Lt. Harvester outside. Dr. Herszkowiczow wishes to speak with Dr. Jackson again."

"I don't want to leave Dr. Jackson alone," Sumner said. Daniel was all for that.

"Very well," Stanislav said. "We will return later to take your men outside." Herszkowiczow didn't look thrilled by the prospect of having to talk to Daniel in the company of two others, but he didn't make any objection.

Sumner gave Daniel a reassuring look and left. Herszkowiczow walked over and took the chair next to the chessboard. It was set for a game, but Daniel had been reading and Sumner had been playing cards with Andy and Harvester. "Good afternoon, Dr. Jackson," Herszkowiczow said. Daniel just smiled tightly at him without replying. "Have you given any thought to helping us out with that work?"

Daniel crossed his arms. "I'm not going to help you without permission. That's just the way it is. If you don't think you can get permission, then you'd better just accept that you won't get my help."

"Dr. Jackson, from everything I've read about you, you're not a man who takes well to idleness, and I very much doubt that your government would have any real problem with your giving us a little helping hand."

"If you're so certain of that, then why don't you ask them?"

Herszkowiczow gave him a conspiratorial look. "It's always easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission."

Daniel shook his head. "I'm neither stupid nor gullible, doctor," he said. "I'm not going to fall for any of your ploys, so you might as well not bother."

Herszkowiczow stood up. "I'll be back to see you in a few days, Dr. Jackson. I have no idea how long this stay of yours is going to last, and it does seem a waste of time for you to sit here doing nothing. Maybe you should think about that."

"I think he's given you his answer," Dave Harvester said suddenly. "Why don't you just leave him alone?"

Herszkowiczow looked dourly at Harvester and Andy. "This is not your concern," he said. "I will see you later, Dr. Jackson."

Once he was gone, Daniel closed his eyes and thumped his head against the wall. Next time, the linguist would arrange some way of seeing him privately, he was sure of it. He wouldn't want the others to try and interfere.

"Damn it!" Harvester growled. "What do they think they're doing?"

"They're intimidating the civilian," Andy said, walking over. "Or at least they're trying to. The rules governing civilian detainees are a little different, and they probably figure he's a pushover. They just don't know our Dr. Jackson."

Daniel tried to smile at Andy, but he didn't have the energy to make it believable. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate your sticking up for me."

"I wish we could make him stop bugging you," Andy said, shrugging. "Want to play chess? I'm sure you'll toast me, but I've been wanting to improve my game."

"Sure," Daniel said. Harvester sat down to watch. Sumner came back about an hour later and seemed visibly relieved to see Daniel there. Stanislav personally supervised the trip outside, which surprised Daniel until he thought about it. Stanislav didn't believe the story he'd fed Sumner. He knew there was something odd going on, but there wasn't anything he could do about it but keep Daniel under someone's eye all the time.

This was both very reassuring and distinctly not. It meant that someone here did want to protect him from whatever it was Metzov wanted to do. But it also meant that the command structure wasn't entirely stable. That made him extremely uneasy.

* * *

Jack was glaring at a pair of young airmen that the general had sent to him for discipline. Their offense didn't even have anything to do with the stargate program, and at the moment it seemed petty and unimportant. For that reason, he was feeling particularly irritated with them, and had reduced the pair of them to silent apprehension with his words and manner.

He was about to pronounce his sentence on them, when the phone rang. He fixed them both with a glare, then picked up the receiver. "O'Neill," he said shortly.

"Hey, Jack!" exclaimed a familiar voice that made his hackles stand up.

"Maybourne?" he said. "What the hell do you want?" He reached out and grabbed a pen and a scrap of blank paper. He scribbled rapidly and handed the paper across to the nearer of the two airmen, who took it, read it hastily and rushed out of the room, dragging his partner in crime with him.

"You could start by saying 'hi,'" Maybourne said. "It's generally considered more polite."

"What do you want?" Jack repeated.

"I was just wondering if you'd lost anything recently," Maybourne said.

"Could you get to the point?" Jack asked. "I've got a lot on my plate right now." He couldn't imagine what Maybourne could be calling about.

"Well, I think this is probably pretty high on the menu, Jack," Maybourne replied. "I just . . . have you lost anything? Any toy soldiers? Say, five? And an archeologist?"

Jack stared at nothing in complete shock. "How do you know about that?" he asked, knowing as he spoke that he was giving away information, but unable to stop himself.

"I've seen them, Jack."

"How could you possibly have seen them?" Jack asked in angry incredulity. "What kind of a game are you playing at?"

"If you don't want to hear what I have to say, Jack, I could just hang up," Maybourne said.

Jack grimaced. It didn't make any sense, but he didn't want to take any chances. "No, go on. What do you know?"

"I know where they are."

"Where, damnit?"

"In Russia."

"Russia?" Jack exclaimed. "How could they be in Russia?"

"What goes up must come down," Maybourne said.

"Riddles? You're talking in riddles?" Hammond came in, looking startled and slightly annoyed, but Jack waved him to silence and gestured for the airmen who came in behind him to go. They went out and shut the door.

"Assuming that the spare gate was destroyed when the Asgard ship blew up and crashed was just as smart as assuming that the replicators were."

Jack blinked. "It wasn't destroyed?"

"No."

"The Russians salvaged it?"

"Yup."

"But . . . how could they have gotten a dialing computer together in this short a time?"

"They didn't need to. They have the DHD from Giza, and when the DHD is hooked in, their gate supercedes yours."

"So when Daniel dialed in –"

"I think you can work it out from there on your own," Maybourne said. "If you have trouble, though, you can always ask Major Carter to explain it to you." There was a click and the line went dead.

"What in the hell was that about?" Hammond demanded.

"That was Harry Maybourne," Jack said. "He says that the Russians have Daniel and SG-8."

"How could that be?"

"He says that they salvaged the gate that crashed with the Asgard ship and that they have a DHD."

"What?"

"And that when they hook up the DHD to their gate, it supercedes ours." Hammond's eyes went very round and he didn't speak. "So when Daniel dialed in, they must have had their DHD connected and the gate went to Russia instead of here."

"Then why haven't they contacted us?"

"I don't know, but wasn't there some way of detecting a gate in operation somewhere else on the planet? I seem to remember that in the debriefings about that whole Antarctic gate thing."

"Right. Let's go find Major Carter."

Jack followed the general out of his office. If the Russians had Daniel, Sumner and the others, and they hadn't let them know . . .

* * *

On the following day, they received food but no information, and no trip outside, and no one came to take Colonel Sumner to see Jones and Colfax. The tension in the little room built up as the day progressed, and even Andy didn't seem to be able to break it. That night, all four of them lay sleepless for awhile, not talking. Daniel heard it as each of the younger men dropped off. Their breathing shifted till it was clear that they were asleep.

Sumner was still awake when Daniel finally succumbed.

He awoke to the sound of the door to their prison opening. Food was delivered and the soldiers went out again. Daniel's stomach was roiling with tension, but he managed to force some food down despite that fact.

They all made the effort to appear calm. Daniel and Sumner played very bad chess, and the other two stared at cards without really seeing them.

Finally the door opened around ten-thirty in the morning. Stanislav stood there. "Colonel Sumner, please come with me."

Sumner rose silently and went out, leaving the other three of them zinging with nerves. Andy rounded Daniel up into their card game, so he played gin rummy with them till lunch. After lunch, he pled fatigue and tried to read. He hoped this was all a good sign. Sumner still hadn't returned, but that could mean almost anything.

About an hour after lunch, there was an odd sound outside the door. Andy got up and went to listen. After a moment, he started back, and the door slammed open. Metzov stood there with five or six others behind him. It was hard to tell through the doorway.

"That's Metzov," Daniel exclaimed.

"They knocked out our guards!" Andy yelled just before he launched himself at Metzov. One of the soldiers dragged Andy off the colonel, but Harvester leapt forward to join the fight. Daniel grabbed his new cane, delivered the previous day without explanation, and got off the bed.

Two soldiers pushed past the fights that were going on by the door, taking random blows from Harvester and Andy. Daniel struck at them with his cane and his fist, but he was no match for them. They seized him, throwing the cane aside. Daniel continued to struggle, but it was no use. He stomped on feet, he kicked, but all he was succeeding in was pissing off the guys who were holding onto him. One of them slapped cuffs around his wrists, and they wrestled him forward.

Harvester went down under two of the soldiers, and two more slammed Andy up against the wall. While both men were immobilized, Daniel's captors dragged him out of the room. A moment later, all of Metzov's force was out of the room and the door was shut behind them. Now that they were in public, Daniel started yelling for help, but one of the men gave him a stunning smack across the face and the other one stuffed a gag into his mouth.

They dragged him through hallways and out a door that led into a small courtyard. There was a van with painted windows idling outside, and they made him get into the back end of it. Four of them came in with him. They forced him to sit on one of the sideways facing benches with one of them on either side of him and the other two facing him, guns still out and ready. It seemed an awful lot of firepower to control one mild-mannered archeologist.

The van started moving and Daniel wondered where they were taking him. And why.

* * *

Jack glared angrily at the wall while he listened to Hammond. The Russians did indeed have an active gate program, and they'd had Daniel and SG-8 since Friday when they'd vanished from P(string). They just hadn't bothered to mention it to anybody for nearly a week. God knew how long they'd have waited if Maybourne hadn't given Jack the clue they'd needed to know what questions to ask.

Four out of the six were injured. Lt. Colfax had a serious stab wound, and the other three had burns of greater or lesser severity. Predictably enough, Daniel had the most serious burn. "So, when are they going to give them back?" he asked when Hammond paused.

The general looked around at the three of them. Carter's eyes were dark with fury, and Teal'c looked ready to rip some arms off. Jack was in a mood to let him, if anyone appropriate happened along. "Tomorrow they'll be flown to a base in Germany where they'll be checked out. Depending on the severity of their injuries, they'll probably come back to the States day after tomorrow."

"So the earliest we'll see them here is Saturday," Carter said, sounding disgusted. "I can't believe that they let us search for them off world for so long."

"What purpose could they have for keeping them?" Teal'c asked, his voice resonating with his anger. "It does not make sense."

"It's politics," Carter replied. "They wanted to keep their stargate a secret, so they couldn't tell us that someone had come through it. But if someone had died on the search –" She broke off, glaring down at her hands.

Jack cleared his throat. "I'd like to fly to Germany to greet them," he said.

Hammond blinked at him. "I think I can go along with that," the general replied. "I'll arrange for you to catch a flight. In the meantime, Major Carter, I'd like you to get me an idea of just how many times they've used their gate."

"Yes sir."

"Teal'c, you work with Major Carter." Hammond looked down at his papers. "Jack, get packed. I want you in Germany before they are if possible."

"Yes sir."

Hammond nodded and looked up. "All right, people, dismissed."

They left the room as a group. "Say hi to Daniel for us, sir," Carter said as he peeled off toward the locker room, and Teal'c nodded gravely.

"Will do," Jack said. He got himself packed, grabbed a few of Daniel's civvies, and headed back to the general's office.

Hammond shut the door behind him and gestured him to a seat. Sitting down himself, he gazed at Jack for a long moment without speaking. Then he leaned forward. "Jack, I want you to be diplomatic when you see the Russians. I know you want to pound some heads, I do, too, but that will be handled at higher levels."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know that, sir. I will."

"Good." Hammond crossed his arms. "I've got a flight for you. You'd better leave now. They'll hold it for you, but you don't want to keep them waiting too long."

Jack nodded and rose, taking his bags. "I promise, general, I won't kill anyone."

"Glad to hear it," Hammond said. "Bring them back, colonel."

"Yes sir."

* * *

They were on the road for hours. Daniel's leg was aching, and he thought one or two of the remaining blisters might have popped. After awhile, they'd removed the gag and given him water, which he'd drunk awkwardly from a water bottle held by one of them. Then they put the gag back in. No one spoke to him, no names were offered. He had no guess where they were going, at least in part because he had no idea where they'd started out.

He couldn't imagine what they hoped to gain from this. His gut twisted with anxiety. He couldn't help thinking that Jack would have better luck finding him offworld than in another country on Earth, always assuming he even knew that's where Daniel was by now.

The van came to a smooth stop, and Daniel felt his back stiffen. After several moments, the van began to move again, slowly now. Then it stopped and the engine turned off. The rear doors opened and the men around him pulled him to his feet and outside. He looked around curiously to see where he was, and saw old stone walls and heavy wooden doors. There were steps down in the corner, and hard hands on his arms guided him towards them. At the bottom there was a door that led into a subterranean hallway. Barred windows at ceiling level let light in from outside, and stairs at the other end led into a broad stone hall. It was clearly a means of getting from the garage to the main building without going out into the weather. Or being seen by possible watchers, in this case.

Metzov was nowhere to be seen, and Daniel wondered where he was, and if he was just some kind of agent, not deeply involved in whatever scheme this was. The guards led him through another door into a corridor that was paneled with golden wood. At the end of this corridor there was another set of stairs, and Daniel was beginning to feel like he was going to drop. His leg ached, his arms were sore and the way they were gripping him wasn't helping that any.

Up three flights of stairs and into a narrow room, and it seemed they still weren't done. Daniel wondered where the hell they were. It was a huge building from the looks of it. A door at the end of the room led into a spiral staircase. They had to let go to take him up it, because there wasn't room for more than one person abreast, so Daniel's arms got a respite at least. Finally, they reached another door. Opening it, the man in front of him ushered him in, removed the cuffs and the gag, then left again. The door thunked shut behind him, and Daniel heard tumblers fall as it was locked.

The room was about fifteen feet square and contained a bathtub, a bed, a table and several bookcases. Investigation revealed that a small closet-like space in one corner was a water closet. The building was clearly old. All of the plumbing was retrofitted, and the walls were of stone with crumbling mortar. There were three windows. Rubbing at the indentations the cuffs had left on his wrists, Daniel walked to the nearest one and looked out. All he could see were trees, as far as the horizon. The next window looked down over an internal courtyard. He seemed to be in some kind of a late medieval fortress that had been adapted for modern use. The third window looked out over the forest in a different direction, but he could see what looked to be a town very far off, glass windows glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.

Despite the bright sunlight, the air in the room was chill. He turned the latch on one of the windows and opened it the scant four inches permitted by the bars outside, but the air outside was no warmer. Spring came late in the northern parts of the world, and though from the brilliant green of the leaves and the occasional spot of color from a flower or a bird, it was clear that spring was here, it was early yet.

At the foot of the bed there was a trunk. He opened it and found blankets and bedding. A chest of drawers stood under a window. It was empty, but Daniel had a sinking feeling that clothing would be brought to fill it up.

He pulled off his pants to take a look at his blisters. None of them had popped, but the skin was very tender. Sighing, he pulled his pants back up and looked around the room. It was really getting cold in here, but he liked the fresh air.

Walking back over to the bed, he pulled a blanket out of the chest, wrapped it around his shoulders and sat down. There were no books on the shelves, nothing to do but sit and think, and his thoughts weren't the best company at the moment.

He had to hope that the SGC and the American military had good contacts over here, because if they didn't, he didn't know how they were ever going to find him.

He'd been in the room for forty-five minutes or so when one of his four soldiers came in with a tray of food. There were pills in a little paper cup on the tray, presumably analgesics, but they weren't marked. Daniel ignored them. He wasn't going to take any medicine he couldn't identify.

After an hour, the soldier came back for the tray. He carried with him a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes. Putting them down on the dresser, he turned to the table for the tray. Looking at the cup with the pills, he pursed his lips and glanced over at Daniel. Picking the cup up, he walked over and held it out. Daniel shook his head, hoping that the guard didn't have orders to make him take it. Shrugging, the man dropped the cup back onto the tray and left the room again.

Twilight was finally fading, and Daniel turned on the overhead light. It was another retrofit, and the unshielded bulb threw a harsh white light over the room, throwing dark shadows into the corners. Daniel sighed and sat back down. He was tired, but he didn't really want to go to sleep. It was a lot early, for one thing.

Dropping the blanket on the bed, he went to the window that showed only trees. He hadn't shut the window, so he leaned as far out as he could and peered down towards the ground four stories below. All was shrouded in shadow as the sun settled behind the horizon. Not that it would help much to see what was down there. He couldn't get through the window, and even if he could, it was beyond his ability to scale a vertical wall four stories high.

With some luck he might be able to fall down it, but since that wouldn't gain him anything, he saw little point in attempting it. Still, it would be good to know what was down there in case he got an opportunity to make a break for it.

The pajamas looked like flannel. He picked them up and realized that they were probably a good deal warmer than the clothes he was wearing. Hurriedly, he changed into them, leaving his socks on, and went back to sit down on the bed with the blanket around his shoulders, mulling the situation over in his head.

There wasn't a damned thing he could have done differently. He'd dialed the gate for home, and from then on, events had been so far out of their control that he couldn't think of any way they could have changed it. So, despite the fact that he – and SG-8, for that matter – had done everything right, he was still stuck in a dangerous situation with no obvious way out.

And he had nothing whatsoever to do.

He wondered if they planned to keep him without activity for awhile, hoping that when they gave him something to do, he'd fall on it with relief and work despite his determination not to. He really hoped they hadn't decided to try that, because it might just work.

He focused his mind on a text he'd seen on the monument they'd uncovered on PNJ-439 and started trying to translate it in his head. Eventually, he grew tired enough that he thought he might be able to go to sleep. Pulling the covers back, he climbed in and lay down. Once he was flat, he fell asleep almost instantly.


	4. Too Little, Too Late

Chapter 4 – Too Little, Too Late

Trans-Atlantic flights sucked. Jack didn't like spending that much time in an airplane that he wasn't flying. He was glad when the plane finally landed at Weisbaden. He'd expected to be met when he arrived because Hammond had let them know he was coming, but when he saw the rank of the officer who was waiting for him, he raised an eyebrow. A light colonel . . . it seemed a little out of keeping, and the man had a very serious look on his face that worried Jack.

He walked up. "Lt. Colonel Davidek, sir," he said, snapping a salute. "Welcome to Weisbaden Air Force Base. I've been asked to escort you to your quarters and brief you on the current situation."

Jack tilted his head. "Current situation?" he asked.

Davidek glanced around and said, "We need to get you to your quarters, sir."

Jack nodded and followed the other man to a jeep. Tossing his stuff in the back, he climbed in. The visiting officers quarters hadn't changed much since his last visit, but the room he was taken to was a step above the usual. Davidek followed him in and shut the door. Once Jack had dropped his stuff, he gestured for the other man to sit down. "You said something about a briefing?"

"Yes sir," Davidek said. "Colonel Sumner and his team are on their way here now, but there has been a slight difficulty."

"A difficulty?"

"According to what we've been told, Dr. Jackson has somehow escaped. They're looking for him, but they haven't found him yet."

Jack stared for a long moment, then told himself to stop grinding his teeth. It wasn't good for him, and it tended to scare people. "Escaped?" he repeated. "They say he escaped?"

"Yes sir," Davidek said soberly. "I must say, it sounded a little fishy based on the information they gave us regarding his injuries, but you know the man better than I do."

Jack shook his head. "I know him pretty well, and I don't see Daniel escaping alone, particularly not in a situation like this one, where he couldn't gain much by being on his own."

Davidek sighed. "That's what General Gehrig thought, and given that he's a civilian consultant, and not really trained in combat or tactics, I doubt he'd manage it in any case." He grimaced, crossing his arms. "It does leave us in an awkward position, though."

"Awkward?" Jack tilted his head, keeping his expression calm. "How so?"

"Well, I'm not sure what we can realistically do if they Russians say they haven't got him. We can't exactly just walk in and start searching for him ourselves."

"Watch me," Jack muttered. There would be some awkward positions, all right. Most people found broken heads very awkward.

"Sir?"

"I am not about to stand by and let anyone get away with that kind of bullshit," Jack said frankly.

Davidek's eyes widened. "Sir, I know General Gehrig will want to minimize negative incidents. The situation will have to be resolved diplomatically."

Jack gazed levelly at the other officer. "You've got that half right, Davidek," he said, clearly alarming his companion by both his tone and his expression. "The situation will have to be resolved, period. If they really don't know where Daniel is, then they will have some help looking for him. If they do know where he is . . ." He shook his head. "Has General Hammond been informed of the situation?"

"We only found out ourselves in the last twenty minutes," Davidek said. "I believe that General Gehrig was putting a call through to the president when I left. I presume General Hammond will be informed soon, if he hasn't been already."

"Good to hear it." Jack imagined Hammond's reaction and was glad he wasn't the bearer of the news.

"The plane is due to land at 0900 hours. I'll send someone to bring you to the airfield when it arrives."

"Thank you." The phone rang and Jack looked over at it.

"I'll see you in a few hours, sir."

Jack picked up the phone as Davidek closed the door. "O'Neill," he said.

"Jack, this is General Hammond."

"I was expecting you, sir," Jack said.

"Have you been told about Dr. Jackson's 'escape'?"

"Yes, sir, that cock and bull story has reached me."

"I want you to talk to SG-8 the minute they land and find out what really happened. Until we know that, we're not in a good position to put pressure on the Russian government. The president is livid."

"He's not alone in that, sir," Jack said, glaring at the wall.

"No, he's not." Hammond's tone vibrated with understated anger. He fell silent for a moment. "As soon as you have the straight story, I want you to call me."

"Of course, general."

"Because of the sensitive nature of this operation, I'm sending Lt. Colonel Feretti and SG-3. That way they'll be on the ground and ready to help you with the search if necessary. General Gehrig will assign additional men as needed. The president is determined to retrieve Dr. Jackson, so all that remains now is to determine what sort extraction we're planning."

"Yes sir." Jack put down the phone, very glad that, for once, they had the government backing them up. That happened all too rarely.

Not that he'd have acted any differently without that backing. Having it just made things infinitely easier.

A racketing clatter woke Daniel out of a sound sleep. He sat up straight as four masked men in black clothes swarmed into the room. Two of them pointed automatic rifles at him while the others dragged him out of bed.

"What's going on?" he demanded, then started to repeat the question in Russian for good measure, but before he finished, the man on his left cuffed him.

"Silence!" he snapped, and Daniel grit his teeth. They forced him to his knees and wrenched his arms up behind him.

"Stop it!" he growled, trying his level best to get free. "Let go of me! What's going on? Where are you taking me now?" He kept demanding answers until they gagged him again, and he didn't stop struggling as they took him down the spiral stairs and out of that narrow room on the third floor.

It didn't seem like they were taking him out of the building, and he wondered what the goal was. As they marched him through hallway after hallway, he tried to identify possible escape routes. It was a bit difficult as they still appeared to be on the third floor, and there were no open halls, just doorways. He identified a couple of different architectural styles, indicating that the fortress had been through more than one renovation.

The walk was probably no more than five or ten minutes, but it seemed like hours to Daniel. They entered a Victorian hall and went down a grand flight of stairs. Once they were on the second floor, his guards walked him up to a pair of dark wooden doors. One of them removed his gag while another one knocked, and Daniel wondered what was on the other side. He didn't ask, though, figuring he'd probably find out soon enough. He heard a whirring and looked up and to his right to see a camera angling to catch a better view of them. After a few seconds, there was a clicking sound, and the guard who'd knocked pushed the door open. Daniel tried yet again to break free, for all the good it did him. Even if he got loose, there were four guys ready to grab him again, and his hands were bound. The door shut behind him with the audible click of the latch re-engaging.

The men on either side of Daniel ushered him inside. It was a library. The scents of dust and paper and leather bindings mingled together in an unmistakable aroma that Daniel would have recognized if he'd been blindfolded. As it was, he was treated to the sight of a library out of a librarian's dream. Three stories of book shelves wrapped around three walls, with a large open space in the middle. It was incredible. Stacks stretched away to his left on three floors, and there was a complicated pulley system designed to allow large piles of books to be manually cranked from one level to another.

He knew one or two librarians who might view it as a nightmare, though, he reflected. Some of them seemed to prefer the sterile variety of library, more interested in the organization of books in neatly codified rows than in the books themselves. A librarian who liked books for their own sake would be enthralled by –

His thoughts took a sharp turn to the present when his captors stopped him sharply before a woman at a handsomely carved desk of gleaming, inlaid mahogany. Dark blond hair was pulled in simple wings away from her face. Brown eyes graced a face of high-cheekboned perfection. She looked like she belonged in an illustration for a northern European fairy tale, though the comfortable cardigan and button front shirt would be jarring in such an environment.

"Sit down, Dr. Jackson," she said in lightly accented English.

Daniel squared his shoulders. "I'd just as soon stand, thanks," he said.

An eyebrow rose and she tilted her head. "As it happens, that was not a request, it was an order." His guards – or hers really, he supposed – forced him down into a chair facing the desk, wrenching his shoulders as they pressed his bound arms against its back. "You will recognize a request by the presence of the word 'please.'"

Daniel glared at her, but didn't respond.

"If I happen to issue a request, feel free to refuse it if you like, but you might give some consideration to the possible consequences of such a refusal."

"I'm really not sure what you mean by consequences," Daniel said.

She raised an eyebrow at the guard standing to Daniel's right. The man suddenly hauled back and punched Daniel in the gut. His breath whooshed out, and he gasped, trying to pull air into his lungs. Having been on the receiving end of that kind of attention from someone who actually wanted to do damage to him in the past, Daniel recognized this for a warning.

Without waiting for him to regain control of his breathing, she began to speak again. "You have the potential to be a very useful man, Dr. Jackson, but my superiors are somewhat short-sighted. In order to make a small gain the short term, they are willing to trade away what could be a considerably larger gain over time."

Finally able to breathe, if shallowly, Daniel raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"In return for a fairly minor concession from your government, my superiors are willing to return you to your homeland."

Daniel blinked. "You're holding me for ransom?"

"In the crudest possible terms, yes."

"What's the long term gain you think they're giving up?" he asked curiously.

"I think we should keep you, and make you work for us."

Since that was a little closer to what he had been expecting, he shrugged. "Maybe your superiors see the futility in attempting that."

She raised her chin. "Perhaps that is their view," she said. "However, given your government's tiresome tendency to move on a geological timeline, I expect you'll be in my care for some time." Daniel found her evident relish of that fact less than reassuring. "And in the meantime, it strikes me that you might as well be achieving something."

Daniel took a deep breath and gazed at her thoughtfully. "So you want me to work for you." She nodded. "Make translations for you." She nodded again, beginning to smile. "Interpret cultural artifacts, analyze historical references, that sort of thing."

"Yes," she replied, looking smug. He'd thought initially that she was roughly his age, but something about her expression, her attitude, suddenly struck him as very young. Either she was very young or she was extremely unrealistic in her expectations. "So, you will?" she asked with a self-satisfied smile.

He tilted his head at her. "Uh . . . no," he said slowly. "Sorry, you're out of luck."

Her eyes widened, snapping with fury, and he stared at her without changing expression. She rose and walked around the desk, stopping in front of him. "You will do as I say."

Daniel smiled tightly. "No, I don't think so."

She reached forward suddenly and seized hold of his thigh where the burn was. He let out an involuntary cry of pain and tried to pull away from her without success. Then he kicked out, caught his foot around her ankles and pulled. Only by lurching forward did she avoid slamming her head against the edge of the desk. She landed in his lap, and he stood up suddenly, sending her to the floor.

Two of the guards slammed him back down in the chair, and a third helped her to her feet. "Take him away," she ordered. "And give him something to think about."

Daniel grimaced as the yanked him back up again and made the return journey. Great, he was being held prisoner by a moron. No one with a brain would have brought that twit into something like this.

Whose girlfriend was she?

Jack stood on the airfield arms crossed. The plane was two hours late. Weather. Bullshit. He stared at the plane as it taxied to a stop in front of them. General Gehrig and Lt. Colonel Davidek were on either side of him. Gehrig seemed to be baffled by the apparent importance of Dr. Daniel Jackson. The president had made it clear to him that retrieving the civilian linguist was of paramount importance, but neither Gehrig nor Davidek had sufficient clearance to be given the details of the stargate program.

How they were supposed to realistically help plan and execute an extraction from a facility that included a stargate without that information was beyond Jack, but then many of the decisions of the upper levels of the government made no sense to him.

"Well, maybe we'll get some truth, now," Gehrig yelled over the plane's engine.

"Sir, I'm going to have to debrief them in private," Jack yelled back.

Gehrig nodded, looking resigned. "Well, at least you'll get the truth, and we can go forward from there."

"The doctor is here!" shouted Davidek, but the engine noise cut out in the middle of his words, and he flushed.

"Good," Gehrig replied and Jack turned to see a medical team approaching. They would be ready to receive Lt. Colfax, which was a relief.

The steps of the plane were let down and the first person down them was a Russian lieutenant, followed closely by two Russian medicos with a stretcher between them. Jack moved forward and Lt. Colfax's eyes widened when she saw him. "Colonel O'Neill?" she exclaimed. "I didn't expect –" She broke off, looking pained, and he shook his head. Before he could tell her not to talk, she gave him a small grin. "Right, Dr. Jackson." Puzzlement entered her eyes. "I don't really understand what happened there."

"Don't worry about it, lieutenant," Jack said, looking up. Sumner was talking quietly to Lt. Jones at the base of the steps.

Nodding, the young black woman walked forward and looked down at Colfax. "I think we've got an appointment with a hospital bed," she said.

Colfax nodded. "It's a good thing it's just a stab wound," she said. "I wouldn't want anyone but Dr. Fraiser to treat a staff blast this serious."

"Hush," Jones said. Colfax blinked and nodded, looking mildly alarmed, and then the two women moved off with the medical team.

Jack turned to Sumner, who was greeting General Gehrig. "Thank you, sir," Sumner said. "Lt. Harvester also needs medical attention. He has a burn on his right arm that needs looked at."

"Davidek, take Lt. Harvester to the infirmary," Gehrig said.

"Sir, I'd rather stay and take part in the debriefing," Harvester said.

Sumner shook his head. "You need medical attention. I'm not altogether certain I trust our former hosts." He gazed dourly at the Russian colonel who was standing nearby. "This is Colonel Stanislav. He and I have . . ." Pausing, the American colonel glanced at General Gehrig. "We have similar jobs, Colonel O'Neill."

Jack looked darkly over at Colonel Stanislav. "I see."

"Well, Colonel Stanislav," Gehrig said. "Welcome to Weisbaden. May I offer you lunch?"

Stanislav nodded. "I would be very grateful."

As they walked away, Jack glanced at Sumner and Myers. "Come with me," he said. "I've got a room set aside for a meeting."

"Sir," Captain Myers said, not looking at his commanding officer, "Colonel Sumner needs medical attention as well."

"I'm fine, captain," Sumner said firmly. Jack raised an eyebrow. "As soon as we're done with the debriefing, I will go to the infirmary, but I think you need as much information as is available about Dr. Jackson as soon as possible."

Jack nodded. "This way," he said. They followed him. It wasn't easy to read Colonel Sumner, but Captain Myers was a good deal more somber than usual. They were obviously not happy with the situation. They reached the room Jack had reserved and he shut the door behind them. "Okay, gentlemen, we've been informed that Daniel escaped. Somehow that seems very unlikely, so why don't you tell me what really happened?"

The story they told him had Jack's blood boiling. Deceit piled on lies heaped around a mass of stinky bullshit. Jack didn't generally define escape as 'four guys came in and dragged him out of the room while he fought back and tried to get away.'

"They claimed repeatedly that this Metzov character didn't exist," Sumner said. "Even after Harvester and Myers saw him. I don't know if Stanislav believes the nonsense he spews. He certainly seems to."

"I don't much care," Myers said. "I really didn't like having those bastards march on in there and fight Dave and me to a standstill and just take Daniel."

"But it sounds like they want Daniel for his brain, so they won't do anything too bad to him," Jack said, hoping it was true.

"They won't do anything that would scramble his brain," Sumner said. "Unfortunately, there's a hell of a lot you can do to a man that won't scramble his brain."

"Don't I know it," Jack said grimly. "Well, we've got SG-2 on the way, and we're not letting this go. The president's backing us all the way."

"I want to be part of the team retrieving Jackson," Sumner said. "He was my responsibility."

"If the doctors clear you and Hammond agrees, I've got no problem with it," Jack said. "I'd like to have as much SGC personnel in on this as possible, since the brass doesn't want to share too many details of our work with the locals."

"I'm eager to help, too, sir," Captain Myers said.

Jack nodded. "Glad to hear it. Is there anything else I need to know?"

The two men exchanged looks and shook their heads. "The only people they singled out at any point were Colonel Sumner and Dr. Jackson."

"Right." Jack shook his head. He'd like to have asked why it was always Daniel, but unfortunately, he already knew. Just like he already knew how Daniel would react to a situation like this. He could only hope that they valued the mind enough to keep the body relatively undamaged.

Daniel had expected the guards to take him back to his room. They certainly headed through the halls in the right direction, but they stopped before they reached the narrow room with the stairs up to the tower and went into another room that had an oddly medical feel to it. The walls were white, there were counters and cabinets like ones found in a doctor's office, a sink, a poster delineating human anatomy. There was also something that strongly resembled an examination table.

Most of the examination tables Daniel had seen in doctors' offices didn't have vinyl cuffs attached to them, though.

He didn't ask what the place was or what he was doing there. That seemed a pointless question under the circumstances. The answer seemed pretty self-evident. They were going to 'give him something to think about.' He'd find out what methods they were going to use sooner than he wanted to anyway, even without asking.

To his surprise they didn't put him on the table. There were a couple of stretches of wall that didn't have cabinets either above or below. Above one of them, a pair of chains hung down with padded leather cuffs at the ends of them. They marched him over to that wall and stood him facing it, then they unbound him and removed the pajama shirt as well as his watch before attaching his wrists to the cuffs that were hanging down.

Behind him he could hear cabinets opening. He really didn't think he liked where this was going, but asking about it still seemed pretty pointless.

Footsteps approached behind him, and he closed his eyes, stiffening slightly. He felt a movement of air and then something hit his back with bruising force. He didn't think it was a whip, it was shorter and heavier, but the effect was the same. It snapped around and stung on the side of his ribcage. He jerked forward, letting out a grunt of pain.

"Odin," said a male voice to his left, not the man who was flogging him. _One,_ Daniel thought. Another blow landed. "Dva." _Two_. On they went. One blow would fall, sending pain through his body, and then, before he could adjust to it, another one would fall. He tried to pull away from the chains even though he knew it would be useless, and grit his teeth to keep from crying out. As the blows kept coming in a steady rhythm, though, it grew more and more difficult to keep himself silent. Finally, the man on his left called, "Devyat . . . desyat." _Nine . . . ten._ The blows stopped.

Daniel was shaking, and he knew they hadn't hit him as hard as they could. For one thing, they hadn't broken the skin.

Someone released his hands and, taking advantage of the fact that he was unbound and knowing that they wouldn't expect him to be up to much of anything, he turned and swung at the nearest one. He landed one blow before they grabbed him again and bound his hands behind his back. It was incredibly painful, and they weren't remotely gentle with him.

One of them turned him around and grabbed his chin. "This was but the mildest of warnings. We can do much worse. You would do well to obey and be compliant."

Daniel glared. "You're probably right," he said.

"Good," the man replied, seeming satisfied. Grabbing Daniel's arm, he yanked him forward. "Let us get you back to your room so you can get some sleep before you start work tomorrow."

Daniel shook his head. "I said you're probably right that I should do as I'm told," he said. "I didn't say I was going to."

After a brief pause while the other man assimilated what Daniel had said, he looked at one of the men behind Daniel and nodded sharply. A hard slap on his back sent Daniel stumbling forward with a curse as pain blossomed. The man in front of him moved aside and he lost his footing. Without his hands to help his balance, he wound up flat on his face.

He rolled onto his side and was trying to get himself up again when someone grabbed his upper arm and dragged him back to his feet. "Do you think this is a game?" he demanded, swinging Daniel around to face him. Glaring at him, Daniel didn't reply. "Because I assure you, we are in deadly earnest."

"I believe you," Daniel said, grimacing.

"Then do not think to defy us, or Lizaveta."

Daniel shook his head. "Let me sleep on it," he said, hoping that would get him taken back to his room. He wasn't about to change his mind, but he didn't want this to continue.

The man holding him gazed angrily into his eyes for a moment longer, then shoved him backwards. Two of the others caught him by the arms and dragged him out of the room, not letting him get his footing. The trip was mercifully short. They took the cuffs off his wrists and thrust him into his room with a calculated shove between the shoulder blades that sent him to his knees. He sat there for several minutes, his back one solid mass of aching misery, his sides stinging from the tail ends of the blows whipping around him, and his leg burning.

Much as he didn't like them, he had to admit that these guys were good at what they did. His back would be black and blue tomorrow, and probably green and yellow the day after, but they hadn't broken the skin at all, nor any bones. Furthermore, none of it would show on a cursory inspection. Still, he was in an enormous amount of pain. They had indeed given him something to think about, but he doubted that Lizaveta would like the direction his thoughts were taking. There was no way he was going to help someone like her achieve anything. If they hoped to get something from the American government, they weren't going to kill him, and if they lost that hope, they'd kill him either way, so he wasn't going to give in. The games they were playing just annoyed him.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the bed. The night was chill and they had not returned his shirt. The covers were still pulled back and rumpled from his sudden exit from them, so he crawled back in, lying on his stomach, needless to say.

He hoped the others were okay. He'd gotten the impression that something was moving in the process of returning them to where they belonged. It would certainly explain the seizure of him. If the Russian government had arranged to return SG-8 and their borrowed archeologist, it would narrow the opportunity these folks had to grab him severely.

If they were lucky, his disappearance hadn't delayed anything.

Why him, though? If they genuinely believed that he wouldn't help them, as the twit had suggested, why him? Wouldn't any one of them have done the job? Why would they assume that the only civilian on the team was the best choice for a ransom demand? Most of the soldiers seemed to view the civilian members of the Stargate Command as hangers-on, dead weight, to be ignored until they were needed. Why would another group of soldiers think that grabbing a civilian would benefit them?

Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep. Every time he moved, though, the pain in his back awakened him. By the time the sun rose, illuminating the room, he was still exhausted, but the light rendered sleep impossible. Since he had nothing better to do, he remained in bed, hoping that his weariness would grant him sleep.


	5. Codes and Planning

**Chapter 5 – Codes and Planning**

The door opened several boring hours past dawn, and Daniel sat up with alacrity, wishing he'd put on the shirt they'd left him as part of his change of clothes. Lizaveta strode in followed by her men. She walked up to Daniel and looked down at him. "Get some clothes on, Dr. Jackson," she ordered. "I will wait downstairs."

She left, but the guards didn't, and Daniel glared at them. "Get changed," said the one who'd spoken to him the night before. "Or we will have to take steps."

Daniel grimaced, grabbed the change of clothes, then walked over and stepped into the water closet. It was a pair of black pants and a black t-shirt. With some difficulty, he changed into the pants and underwear inside that confined space. Exiting, he pulled on the shirt. One of them handed him a comb and Daniel neatened his hair. "Care to tell me why the concern with my appearance?" The man snatched back the comb without speaking. "I'm guessing not, then," he said, shrugging. That turned out to have been a very bad idea. He bit down on the groan that threatened to escape him.

They took him down to the narrow room below where a chair had been set up about ten feet in front of a video camera on a tabletop tripod. Lizaveta was waiting, and she studied him critically as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Turning to one of the guards, she said, "Someone fetch him a long-sleeved shirt. Those bruises won't do." The guard left and Lizaveta picked up a sheet of paper from the table. "Read though this, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel raised an eyebrow at her, but looked at the page. It was clearly a script for him to read on camera. He scanned it quickly and shook his head. To secure his safe return, they had to give this organization two samples of every piece of technology that had come through the stargate along with whatever technical details they'd managed to learn from them.

Lizaveta had turned away, so she didn't see his reaction. His guards guided him towards the chair but didn't make him sit down yet. Lizaveta was messing around with the camera. The guard returned with a dark jacket, like a windbreaker, and held it out to him. Daniel handed him the script and pulled the jacket on. It wasn't worth fighting over.

"Sit down," Lizaveta said, coming out from behind the camera. Daniel obeyed, carefully not leaning back in the chair. "Give him back the script." Daniel took the sheet of paper and looked bemusedly at it. "All right, Dr. Jackson, just look into the lens of the camera and read what that paper says." He saw the red light on the camera begin to flash, indicating that it was recording.

With a bland smile, he ripped the paper in half and then in quarters. "I'm not reading this script. For one thing, it's a lot of nonsense, and for another, it's not even good English."

In the silence that followed this declaration, you could have heard a pin drop. Daniel dropped the torn pieces of paper and they sailed to the floor. "What do you mean, you will not read it?" Lizaveta asked, her voice full of menace.

He leaned towards her, exerting himself to be persuasive. "Honestly, Lizaveta, do you think that piece of propaganda is going to make any more sense coming out of my mouth?" he asked. Her lips tightened. "Being straightforward will work considerably better, and they'll buy it a lot more readily than me spouting about how honorable my captors are in less than perfect English."

"If you wish to rephrase the message, feel free to do so," she said, her voice dripping with icy sincerity.

"Well, and I'm not making your demands for you. If you want to make demands, you're going to have to make them yourself."

Her eyes narrowed and she walked towards him. "You will say what I tell you to say." Hands came down on his shoulders and thumbs dug briefly into his back. He could feel the muscles of his face tighten, and he grimaced to keep from crying out. "I have the power of life and death over you," she said softly, leaning down over him. The man behind him kept his hands on Daniel's shoulders.

A flutter of unease threaded through his gut, but he kept his composure. "Not if you want my government to cough up anything. You kill me, they'll hunt you down. It's pretty simple."

"I want you to say what our demands are, Dr. Jackson. That isn't so hard, is it?" When he didn't immediately respond, thumbs dug into his back again, and he tried to jerk away. The man behind him pulled him firmly against the chair's back. He couldn't help it, this time, he cried out. "Dr. Jackson?"

"I won't," he growled. "And the more you have that goon hurt me, the less likely I am to agree to anything at all."

She took a step back and nodded at the man behind him who removed his hands from Daniel's shoulders. "Fine. You have to read from this, however. It's not negotiable." She handed him a copy of the front page of the current day's _New York Times_. "Look into the camera and read the top article."

He looked down at the newspaper and thought hard. This could be his only chance to send any kind of a message to Jack and the others. He scanned the article she'd ordered him to read. It related to the presidential race. He sorted through the words and then looked up. He read the article through, pausing and stumbling like he was nervous, and reading some words wrong while enunciating all the words he got right very precisely, hoping devoutly that the message would get through. He looked up periodically as he read, then when he was done.

She turned off the camera and one of his guards grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. He hung onto the newspaper until someone snatched it out of his hands. Then they pushed him towards the stairs.

Thus far he had only seen these four people in the building. If he was lucky, he could evade them and get outside. Once out there, he wasn't altogether sure what he'd do, but it was better than sitting here doing nothing and getting beaten for it.

They weren't holding onto him for once, so he darted forward suddenly and flung open the door that led out of the room towards the stairs. He went running down them as fast as he could, catching the newel posts to swing around the corners. He heard running footsteps behind him, and yells. As he reached the top of the last flight of stairs, the door at the bottom burst open. Two men came in, AK-47s pointing at him. Daniel tried to stop, lost his balance and tumbled down the last flight of steps.

When he came to rest, he lay on his back on the floor, his ankle aching, his back screaming, and he was staring up at the muzzles of a pair of AK-47s. Lizaveta forced her way through the men that surrounded him and said, "Put those away. Anyone who shoots him will answer to my father." The guns disappeared, and ungentle hands rolled him onto his stomach and bound his hands behind him again. They yanked him up to his feet. "Take him to his room," Lizaveta ordered.

He had trouble walking. His right ankle didn't want to support him, but he didn't think it was broken or even sprained. Just twisted. They dragged him up all four stories and dumped him in his room. There he pounded his fists on the floor and growled. He wanted to go home! If they really thought they could get even half of what they were asking for, they were on some serious drugs. There was no way in hell the US government was going to hand over alien technology to an unknown foreign organization.

They'd have to find him and get him loose or he was in serious trouble.

And he had it wrong. She wasn't someone's girlfriend, she was someone's daughter. Great.

* * *

Jack looked over the men and women gathered in front of him. He wished he had Teal'c, but for some reason the general didn't want to send a guy with a snake in his belly to roam around a foreign country. Go figure. He did have SG-2, and Feretti ran a good solid team. He had Lt. Tamika Jones and Captain Andy Myers from SG-8. Sumner was here as well, but only for advice. He and the rest of his team were on medical stand down.

"Okay, we're going to start out by trying to work with the Russian authorities. The president has gotten us some contacts in the Russian military, but we don't know who is and isn't in the know with regards to the stargate, so you need to remember to couch everything you say in terms that won't reveal more than we're permitted to." Nods all around the room. "I'm going to cede the floor to Captain Myers because he's the only one here who has actually seen the character who grabbed Daniel."

Jack walked over to lean against the wall by the door. Myers' story was met with a great deal of discontent from the members of SG-2. Feretti, in particular, looked ready to slam his fist through a wall. Jack sighed. They had so little to go on that if the Russian government persisted in remaining uninvolved, he didn't know what they were going to do.

There was a knock on the door and Jack looked up at Myers. "Hold it for a moment, captain," he said. When they were all silent, Jack opened the door. Lt. Colonel Davidek was standing there with an envelope. "Can I help you, colonel?" he asked.

"I have some information for you. I don't know what it is, but it was sent over from the Pentagon to your attention."

Jack took it and retired to a desk at the back of the room. "Go on, captain. Let me get a look at this."

Myers started taking questions and Jack pulled the CD-Rom and some papers out of the sealed envelope. He popped disk into the computer and it started playing.

First it showed Daniel looking into the screen. He was sitting in a chair with black clad men standing behind him. His posture was stiff, and not just with tension. There was a set to his mouth that bespoke both anger and pain. He began to read from the newspaper in his hands, first the date and the name of the paper then the article. There was something odd about his manner, though. He kept pausing, and occasionally stumbling over words. He was acting nervous. Jack shook his head. There was no doubt in his mind that it was an act. He knew Daniel too well . . . when he was really nervous, he behaved very differently.

After the newspaper article, the screen froze on the image of Daniel looking into the camera. Over this a female voice issued a series of demands that were patently ludicrous, and making the threat that if the demands weren't met, Dr. Jackson would be killed. Then the screen went dark.

Looking down at the other papers that had been in the envelope, Jack grimaced. There was a note from Hammond explaining that the demands couldn't be met. No surprise there. An authorization from the president to show this video to the Russian government if they got obstructionist. And two copies of the news article. One of them was the actual article, as it had appeared in the _New York Times_. The other was a blow-up with some words circled, others crossed out with an arrow to the margin to a different, often similar word written there. With that was a note.

We believe that Dr. Jackson was attempting to send a message in code by the way he read the article. Unfortunately, we can't quite figure out what he meant by it. We're hoping that you, with your superior knowledge of Dr. Jackson, may be able to work this out where we can't.

We have also passed it along to the SGC, where General Hammond will have some of the personnel look it over.

Jack shook his head. He stood up and walked to the front of the room. The puzzle could wait till later. "Okay, people," he said. "We have now received a ransom demand for Dr. Jackson. Suffice it to say, the government's not going to pay it, which just heightens the urgency of our little task here."

"Well, hell!" Sumner growled. "What do they want?"

"Alien tech."

"Is this the Russian government?" asked Feretti incredulously.

"I don't believe so," Sumner said. He looked over at Jack who nodded. "At least not openly. Frankly, the more I think about the way he acted, the more I think Stanislav wasn't aware of most of what was going on."

"Well, what we've got is Daniel reading yesterday's _New York Times_ at us on a video, and possibly inserting a code as he reads. We still don't have the foggiest clue where he is, but this video may give us the leverage we need to get the Russian government working with us."

"That would be good," Sumner said.

Jack nodded. "So, we're heading out late tonight. We will proceed to the embassy, where we will stay while the ambassador and I get things worked out with the government."

"How does Dr. Jackson look?" Myers asked.

"Unhappy," Jack replied. "Real unhappy." He looked around. "Are you all clear on what your assignments are?" There were nods and a few scattered 'yes sir's from the group. "Very good. Dismissed."

They got up and filed out, all except Sumner. "Jack, I'd like to apologize again for –"

Jack shook his head. "It's not your fault, Marshall," he said. "From all I can tell, you did everything by the book. God, for once it sounds like even _Daniel_ did everything by the book. Sometimes you just can't win for losing."

"True enough, I just – well, none of us likes to lose a civilian under our command, but there's something about misplacing Jackson that's just worse."

Jack nodded. "I know what you mean."

Sumner gave him a quick grin and shook his head. "No, I don't think you do, Jack. I really don't think you do." He patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

Baffled, Jack shrugged and went back to the desk to look over the notes on Daniel's 'code.' After several hours, he sat back and stared at the page. Great. Daniel was being held by crazy non-government types someplace where there were a lot of trees. That narrowed things down significantly. After all, there were only so many places with lots of trees in Russia. Jack thumped his fist down on the desk to vent his frustration. It wasn't even fair to be annoyed with Daniel. That he'd gotten any message out at all was extremely impressive.

Maybe combined with the name Metzov, this would yield them some useful information. Taking the CD and the papers, he left the conference room and headed back to his own quarters where he wrote down his own interpretation of the message Daniel had sent. He was just about to get up and find a security envelope to send it back to the Pentagon when there was a knock on his door. He walked over and opened it. "Carter!"

"Sorry it took so long, sir. There were weather-related delays."

"No problem," he replied. "The plane doesn't leave here until late tonight anyway. How did Teal'c take it?"

She grimaced. "Badly, sir, but he understands why it has to work this way."

Jack frankly wished they had him. He was . . . the three of them worked together very well. "Well, we've got about four hours before our plane leaves. Do you want to get some sleep?"

Carter shook her head. "No. They e-mailed me the notes on the little message Daniel put together, but I haven't seen the video."

Jack blinked. "You can't figure it out without the video," he said. "Daniel keeps looking up and giving those intense looks of his, like 'get this, damnit!' I don't know how you'd figure it out without seeing them."

She nodded, her lips tight. "You have it, right?"

He beckoned her further inside. "Let me show you." He popped it into the computer and let it play through. Carter stood beside him, arms crossed, staring at the screen.

"He's in pain, isn't he?" she asked after it was over.

"You picked up on that, too, huh?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "In my notes, it says he clearly hasn't been damaged, but you can't see any of his skin."

"It says that?" Jack exclaimed. "Who wrote that?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Not General Hammond, I'd lay odds."

"No, Hammond would see right through that facade Daniel puts on."

Carter looked down at her notes, then up at the screen, which went dark after a few more seconds. "So, he's being held somewhere in a forest by a bunch of lunatics who don't seem to be affiliated with the government."

"Exactly." Jack handed her his interpretation and she nodded. "I was about to put this in a courier envelope to get it back to Hammond."

"Oh, I've got a faster way, sir," she said. Slipping into the chair in front of the computer, she rapidly typed the words into an e-mail, did a few arcane things involving toolbars and drop down menus, then sent it. "General Hammond should have that popping up on his desktop as we speak."

"Has anyone ever suggested that you were an overachiever, Carter?"

She gave him a sly grin. "Once or twice, sir. I used to get accused of skewing the curve in physics classes in college."

Jack shook his head. "That's not overachievement, Carter, that's genius. Different issues."

She rolled her eyes. "So, what do we have planned?"

"We fly to Russia. Ambassador Wilson and I bust some heads till they agree to help us. We find Daniel. We beat some brains in, and then we go home."

Carter took a deep breath and shook her head. "That plan may need to be fleshed out a little, sir, but I think it's got the key points covered."

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "So, why don't you get a little rest, I'll get the rest of our operational details worked out, and we'll be on a plane to Russia in . . ." He glanced at his watch. "In about three hours."

"Yes sir."

Jack closed the door behind them and headed down to General Gehrig's office to make sure all the equipment and personnel he'd requested would be ready.


	6. Musical Mayhem

**Chapter 6 – Musical Mayhem**

Daniel lay down to go to sleep sometime after sunset. He had no clear idea what time it was because they'd never given him back his watch. Apart from meal deliveries and tray removals, they'd ignored him today, which was fine as far as he was concerned. He didn't have any desire to interact further. He'd continued his mental translation of the inscription from PNR-39X, but there was only so far he could go with that, only so much he could hold in his head at one time.

Boredom was among his least favorite things, but he was damned well not going to let them bore him into playing their stupid game. He also didn't have a mirror, which meant he couldn't check up on the bruising on his back. The hand-shaped bands around arms were lovely shades of magenta, purple and dark blue, where bruises had piled on top of bruises.

It took a long while for him to fall asleep, and it wasn't restful, too full of stress dreams. His mind was seeking an escape, so it put him through every captivity experience he'd had in the last four years, which were too many to be considered comfortably.

He was dreaming about Sokar's moon when the light coming in through the windows awoke him. He got up, took a quick shower and then sunk himself deep in the bath to soak, hoping that hot water would ease the pain of his bruises at least a little. His ankle twinged a little, but the pain had diminished so rapidly the day before that he knew it had truly been no more than a slight wrench.

One of the guards came in with his breakfast and picked up the previous days clothes. "Are you willing to work, Dr. Jackson?" he asked. Daniel just closed his eyes and didn't answer. "Did you hear me, Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel heaved a sigh and spoke without opening his eyes. "Yes, and the answer is no."

The man left the room without another word. After the door closed, Daniel could hear some kind of thumping and shifting on the other side. He wasn't sure what it was, but then an avalanche of sound came through the panel. It took him a moment to identify the noise as orchestral music played at an insane volume.

The speaker must have been placed directly against the door. Daniel could feel the vibration of it coming up through the floor and into the legs of the tub. The sheer decibels were enough to send a man crazy. He slipped deeper into the tub, submerging his ears, but it wasn't much help.

When the water was too cool to do him any good, he climbed out of the tub and got dressed again. The music had not abated. There were intervals between one piece of music and the next, but they were so brief that it was really only enough time for him to hope it was over before another wave of music overwhelmed him again. It continued for the whole day. The man who brought in his food wore ear protection. Daniel wanted to snatch them off his head at lunch, but he wasn't about to show that the noise was getting to him. By nightfall, he wanted to throw the stereo out the window and watch it smash on the ground below. And he never wanted to hear Beethoven again.

Late in the night, it finally stopped, and he fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

Jack thought that it might do the world a lot of good if they tied all the diplomats into separate sacks and tossed them into whatever river was nearest. After listening to the ambassador fence politely with his counterpart in the Russian government, Jack was ready to get a real rapier and run them both through. The ambassador had nixed showing them the video of Daniel, and Jack had deferred to him as knowing a little more about the politics of the situation than he did, but if they made the same amount of progress tomorrow, he was going to knock their heads together and find someone with power and sense. 

The ambassador handed him a platter of platitudes, and Jack smiled insincerely and went to join the rest of his team.

"Any movement, sir?" Carter asked.

Jack shook his head and thumped down into a chair. "Diplomats should be fed to politicians, then politicians should be fed to sharks.

"Do we really dislike sharks that much, Jack?" Feretti asked.

"Okay, then they should be fed to unas," Jack growled.

Feretti tilted his head. "But Daniel made friends with the last Unas."

Jack glared at the other man. "Quit being logical, Lou!" Feretti shrugged and didn't speak again. Everyone else remained silent. If Daniel had been there, they'd have started a spirited argument on something and eased both their tension, but no one here was able to do that for him.

Of course if Daniel had been there, the situation wouldn't exist. Jack grimaced and got up. He grabbed a plate of food from the buffet at one end of the room. The door opened and an attache came in. "Colonel O'Neill, there's a Dr. Svetlana Markov here to see you."

"Who is she?"

"An astrophysicist," Carter said, sounding a little surprised. "Well known for her theories on quantum mechanics and –"

Jack shook his head. "Who is she?" he repeated to the attache.

"She says she knows something about gates, sir." The young man looked puzzled, as if he didn't quite understand the gist of the message.

They all sat up straight at that. "Please send her in," Jack said. He put his plate down and turned to face the door, crossing his arms. Someone – an astrophysicist – who knew about gates. This could be interesting.

The attache brought in a stunningly beautiful woman with dark, curly hair, deep brown eyes and a somber expression. "I am Dr. Svetlana Markov," she said, glancing around at them. Coming straight for Jack, she said, "You must be Colonel O'Neill."

"I must be," he said. "I presume you're here because you've got something to tell us."

She looked around again, then glanced at the attache. "I do, but is there some less public forum we could speak in?"

The attache nodded politely and excused himself. Once the door was closed, Jack shrugged. "Everyone here knows about the gates and what's been going on."

Dr. Markov looked uneasy, but she squared her shoulders and said, "I was in charge of the gate on the day we intercepted Dr. Jackon's party."

"Were you?" Jack asked. "So, what happened?"

She pursed her lips, then sighed. "May I sit down?"

"Sure," Carter said, guiding her to a chair. The major gave him a Look that told him to sit down and stop looming. He decided he might as well.

Once they were all sitting, Markov started speaking again. "We were preparing to send a team through the gate when it activated unexpectedly. Colonel Maybourne identified the radio signals we were receiving as being from an American team and insisted that we allow them through."

"_Maybourne_ insisted?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He did," she replied. "I agreed and reported the matter to my superiors, who instructed me to disarm them and send them under guard to the infirmary. After that, all of them were placed off limits to any but very specific personnel, and I was surprised to discover, days later, that no effort had been made to contact the American government."

"So what happened then?"

"I do not know precisely," she said. "I have heard, without anything to back it up, that Colonel Metzov was involved in the abduction of Dr. Jackson."

Jack leaned forward. "So, Colonel Metzov does, indeed, exist."

"He does," she said, looking puzzled. "Did someone say he did not?"

"We've been told that a time or two," Jack said. "So, who is he?"

"He is to our program what Colonel Maybourne is to yours."

Jack stared at her for a moment. "So, given that you folks are actually _working_ with Maybourne, can I assume that Metzov is correspondingly worse?"

"You may, of course, assume anything you choose," she said primly. "He is an unprincipled individual who should never have been approved for the program."

"Have you got any idea where he would have taken Daniel?"

She shook her head. "No, but I got every piece of information I could out of the computer regarding him." Pulling a disk out of her hand she held it out towards Carter. "I don't know how much help it will be, but it was all I could do."

"What about the guys he had working with him?" Myers asked. "There were four or five other guys with him when he took Daniel." Jack shot him a glance and the captain corrected himself. "Dr. Jackson."

"Of them I know nothing, I'm afraid, and I dare not stay long. My visit, I hardly need tell you, is unofficial."

Jack nodded. "Thank you for coming," he said.

She rose, and he rose with her. "If it had not been for our bad timing in hooking up the DHD, Dr. Jackson would be safe at home right now."

"Yes, he would," Jack said flatly. "But thank you for giving us what information you can." Markov nodded and left. Jack turned to Carter. "Get the information on that disk pulled up pronto. The rest of you, make sure our gear is ready to go."

The lower ranked officers got up and left the sitting area, and Carter walked over to the computer sitting across the room. Feretti stopped by Jack's chair. "A little harsh, weren't you?" he said.

"With Dr. Markov?" Jack asked and Feretti nodded. "I don't think so."

"She couldn't have known . . . I mean, she couldn't have predicted that this would happen."

Jack shook his head. "She's a smart lady. The odds were that sooner or later, they'd catch someone coming in hot. Maybe she couldn't have foreseen this specific sequence of events, but she could have predicted that something like this could happen. She didn't bother. I'm guessing that none of them even thought about planning for it."

"Maybe so," Feretti said. He shook his head. "Well, I'll go check on the kids to make sure they're getting it all right." With that he left Jack to his thoughts, which were not pleasant company.

He really didn't like the notion Daniel and SG-8 owed their lives to Maybourne's intercession. And he couldn't help wondering if they'd have saved SG-8 if Daniel hadn't been with them.

"Sir, come and look at this," Carter said.

He walked over and stood behind her. The screen was dominated by a photograph of a solemn man with salt and pepper hair, glowering into the camera. "That's Metzov?"

"Apparently. And his record doesn't make for pleasant reading." She shook her head. "I'd say he's a good bit worse than Maybourne. He probably would have had Teal'c bent backwards across a table for vivisection before you could blink twice."

"And this charming fellow has our Daniel?" Jack asked rhetorically. "How thrilling."

"Let's see, he's got a daughter, Lizaveta. We might be able to get a lead on him using her. His wife is dead, and he's officially 'retired' from the service.

"Print up the photo and some information about his career, nothing too hot, and give it to me to take with me tomorrow."

"Of course, sir."

"And then print up every detail that might prove useful in searching for the man."

"Yes sir," she said. Jack left her to her work and went to make certain that his dress uniform was perfect. Heads were going to roll in the morning.

* * *

A incredibly loud burst of trumpets jerked Daniel awake. He blinked and stared at the sun just barely peeping above the horizon, and loud music was playing from outside the room. He didn't think he'd been asleep above four hours, though it was hard to be certain. He got up and got cleaned up, submerging himself again for the minimal respite the water offered. The water grew too cold too quickly and experimentation proved that more hot water would not be forthcoming for awhile. 

Drying off, he got dressed and ate his breakfast. The sound was battering at him, and the reason for it wasn't hard to fathom. It was merely another form of torture, one that didn't involve hitting him. He opened all the windows, hoping to let the sound disperse a little more, but there was no appreciable difference.

He took the pillow off the bed and held it tight around his head to cover his ears, which provided some relief, and wished that there were neighbors to complain about the loud music.

Just before midday by the sun, the music stopped mid-song, and Daniel lowered the pillow slowly, ears ringing in the unaccustomed silence, wondering what was coming next. He heard shuffling and dragging sounds outside the door and straightened up. Lunch was coming, presumably, though they hadn't turned off the music for that before, and he wanted to look as unaffected as possible.

The door opened and Lizaveta walked in carrying what appeared to be files. He looked up at her, trying to control the sullen glare he could feel.

"Good morning, Dr. Jackson," she said, indecently cheerful. "How are you?"

"Peachy," Daniel replied.

"I am glad to hear it," she said. "I brought you some files to look at, to see if you wanted to reconsider your refusal to work."

He blinked at her, took in a deep breath and sighed. "I see. And if I agree to work, you'll turn off the music?"

She smiled. "Well, we wouldn't want you to be distracted," she said. Her eyes glinting malevolently, she went on, "But equally, we don't want you to have no stimulus at all. If you choose not to work, we will continue to provide music, to ease the solitude and inactivity you must be suffering."

"How very considerate of you," he said.

"It is the least we can do, Dr. Jackson."

"Oh yes, I quite see that."

She held out the files. "So, would you like to get to work?" she asked.

He blinked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Battering me with music is as unlikely to get a positive response from me as using fists."

Her glare intensified. "You're not a soldier, Dr. Jackson. No one would expect you to hold up under pressure. There is no need for this level of heroics."

He looked down at his hands, trying to keep his face from mirroring his disgust and anger. So far he'd managed to piss her off more often than not, and since his only attempt at escape was a dismal failure, he thought maybe he'd better try cultivating some positive feelings. Finally, when he'd managed to bring his expression control, he looked up. Speaking slowly and with careful emphasis, he said, "No, Lizaveta, I will not work for you."

"Then you are a fool!" she snapped and turned to go.

"Wait!" he called and she turned. "Look, if you were captured by someone and ordered to work doing something you thought your government would disapprove of, would you agree?"

"I hold no value for my government. It would not disturb me."

Daniel nodded. "Well, your organization, then, something your organization would tell you not to do."

"I am a soldier and a soldier's daughter," she declared. "Not a soft academic. What I would do has no bearing on what you should do."

Daniel took a deep breath. "I may not be a soldier, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to fold the way you seem to expect me to." Even as he spoke, he realized that he'd probably said the wrong thing.

"If by 'fold' you mean bend yourself to my will," she said, her eyes narrowing, "we shall see."

"Lizaveta –"

"Enough," she snapped. "You have made your choice. I will not offer the option again until tomorrow." She nodded curtly and marched out of the room. Within minutes, the music had started up again. Daniel grabbed the pillow and covered his ears again. After a few moments, though, he shook his head and dropped his arms.

The pillow wasn't solving anything. What would Teal'c do in a situation like this? Probably break down the door and do some serious damage to the people holding him prisoner. Daniel sighed and grimaced at the sudden booming of bass drums from the stereo.

Then he shook his head. Thinking about it in those terms was fruitless. The question wasn't what Teal'c would do in this exact situation, the question was what Teal'c would do in a situation like this. So, define the situation. Held prisoner by means too strong to make unaided escape possible, being subjected to constant noise. What kind of noise hardly mattered. At this volume, Bach was little more than white noise with strings.

Thinking about Teal'c brought images into his mind and he realized abruptly what the answer was. Teal'c would sink himself into kelnoreem if he could manage and ride out the noise in a state of deep meditation.

Well, Daniel had some practice at meditation, and some marginal experience at mind over matter stuff. He sat back on the bed, putting the pillow aside and crossing his legs. The position pulled at the tender skin of the burn, but he tried to ignore it. Stretching the skin was good for healing. Closing his eyes, he attempted to clear his mind of thought. Oddly, the constant noise was almost helpful there. It obliterated thought unless he struggled to maintain it. Letting go of the struggle, he centered himself and dropped deeper and deeper . . .


	7. Dogged Determination

**Chapter 7 – Dogged Determination**

Jack vaguely hoped he hadn't cooked Markov's goose for her, though if she hadn't intended for him to use the information he'd given her, he didn't know why she'd bothered. At the moment, he was more worried about getting Daniel back in one piece than in keeping her fat out of the fire. The introduction of specific detail about Colonel Metzov had turned the trick. Ambassador Wilson had initially objected to Jack's insistence on putting the information forward, but he'd bowed to Jack's insistence.

The video of Daniel in captivity had also done much to persuade both of them that action needed to be taken now.

As a result, a meeting had been set up to introduce Jack to the head of a military investigation unit. If something didn't give soon, Jack was going to cause a diplomatic incident.

* * *

Something shook Daniel's shoulder, sending ripples of pain through his back. He opened his eyes to silence and a masked face leaning very close to his. "What are you doing?" demanded the man who'd counted off the blows when he'd been whipped. 

"Meditating," he said. "Is that a problem?"

"Are you going to eat your dinner?" demanded the man.

Daniel blinked and leaned around to look at the pile of meat and vegetables under a congealing sauce. "No, I don't think so."

"Fine." The man stood up and turned back towards the table.

"Do you have a name?" Daniel asked conversationally.

"You may call me Piotr."

"Well, Piotr, surely you've got more interesting things to do with your time than deliver food and clothes to me."

"Good night, Dr. Jackson," Piotr said and left.

Daniel watched him go with irritation burning in his soul. The music didn't start up again, for which he was grateful. Daniel changed into pajamas and climbed into bed.

Morning came without the sound of music, for which Daniel was immeasurably grateful. He'd woken later than usual, too. He walked to the window and looked out. Fog shrouded the whole valley below, a sea of fog with islands of green. The sky was overcast, preventing the sun from shining through the eastern window. The air was quite chill. He ran a bath and got in, sinking himself up to his neck in the hot water. Before the water got too cold, he got out again, dried off and got dressed. Breakfast had not yet arrived. Were they going to try starvation after sound had failed?

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd skipped dinner. The door opened behind him and he turned quickly. A masked figure, taller and slimmer than Piotr, walked in with a tray of food. He left again with Daniel's dirty clothes and Daniel sat down to eat. So, starvation wasn't in the cards, nor was torturing him with poor hygiene. What, then?

Hours passed with nothing to do. To help the time pass more swiftly, he sat back down on the bed and began to meditate again.

The door slammed against the wall, and Daniel's eyes snapped open. Four guards again, all masked and dressed in black. The sun was high in the sky, but none of them seemed to have a lunch tray. "What's up, guys?" he asked.

Two of them grabbed his arms, planting more bruises on top of the ones that were already there. They dragged him off the bed and onto his knees. One of them cuffed him, then put leg irons on his ankles with maybe two feet of chain between them. Evidently they didn't want him trying to run away again.

"So, where are we going today? You going to send a video off to the States with me in chains like this?" One of them gave him a smack on the back of the head that made him blink. Okay, talking was apparently not okay.

They dragged him up to his feet and out the door. The chain on his ankles clanged against the steps beneath his feet. He started to feel humiliated, but stiffened his resolve. None of this said anything about him. Even Jack would have trouble getting away from these guys, and he didn't have a quarter of Jack's training.

Back through the narrow room, down the halls, and to the medical room again. When they started through that doorway, Daniel did start to fight, but it was hopeless. They forced him up against the wall, his back towards it this time, bound his wrists to the leather cuffs and unchained his ankles. They didn't remove his shirt, which made him wonder what they were going to do.

Not that a black t-shirt was much protection, but when Lizaveta came in, he was doubly grateful for the thin stretchy cotton. On one of the counters there was a pile of files with a small case sitting next to it. Lizaveta walked in and picked up one of the files. Opening it, she came towards him. "Do you see this, Dr. Jackson?" she asked, holding it out so he could see.

He blinked at the photograph of a tall, square monument with writing on all four sides. She flipped to the next photo, which was a close-up of writing that looked as if it might be Celtic in origin.

"There are half a dozen files here, and more downstairs in the library. All you have to do is work on them. When we have to return you, all the knowledge you gain will still be in your head. It's not really that terrible a proposition."

When she put it that way, Daniel found himself extraordinarily tempted, but then he recalled just what he might be handing this group of violent idiots and he shook his head. "No."

She shut the file and walked over to the counter to put it down. "Very well, Dr. Jackson," she said, coming back towards him with a small back object in her hands. "You're certain of your refusal?"

"I'm not going to –" She pressed the object against his ribs, interrupting him. His muscles twitched violently, and he lost his footing. After a couple of seconds, she drew back and he hung from the chains, utterly disoriented and unable to stand up. She walked over and sat down, and two of the guards came forward to help him back to his feet.

He wasn't clear on how much time had passed before she rose again and came up to him. He was giving her a very apprehensive look, and she smiled. "So, will you reconsider?"

Daniel drew in a deep breath. "No, I won't."

Her eyes snapped with fury and she hit him again with what he now realized must be a taser. She tried to get him to agree twice more, and hit him with the electrical current both times when he refused. He had the impression when she stopped that it was because she was dissuaded by one of the guards rather than because she thought she wouldn't succeed.

They took him back up to the tower room and dumped him on the bed. He lay there thinking that they couldn't know too much about the American program and his part in it if they thought this was going to shake his resolve.

Jack was going to have a conniption. What Daniel wasn't altogether certain about was whether he'd be annoyed with him. Jack might suddenly declare that Daniel should have done whatever they wanted. He shook his head. Worrying about that was pointless. He'd know for certain what Jack thought of his actions when Jack heard about them.

After about an hour, Daniel felt more up to coping with movement. He got up and ran a bath, then went to the bathroom. He felt grimy with sweat and he could smell himself. The one problem was that he didn't have fresh clothes. He walked over to the door while the tub was still filling and pounded. Then he went and sat down. Four sizable electrical shocks in a short time period had played havoc with his motor control. Tasers weren't supposed to do lasting damage, but the short term problems weren't fun.

One of the guards came in and Daniel looked up at him. "I was hoping you could maybe get me some fresh clothes."

The guard tilted his head for a moment, then said, "I will see." Within ten minutes he was back with a pile of garments. Daniel was already in the tub, hoping that the answer would be yes. Not only garments, but fresh sheets as well. Daniel lay, soaking in the hot water, while the man stripped his bed, flipped the mattress twice, examined all the edges, then re-made it. Taking the dirty clothes and bedding away, he left again, and Daniel closed his eyes. If escape had ever been possible, his ill-timed break for freedom had scuttled it.

His mind wandered back to the events of the morning. One of the guards had stopped Lizaveta from applying more voltage to him, whether because he recognized the futility or because he thought that five shocks in two hours was excessive Daniel couldn't be sure. Still, maybe he'd better try and get one or more of them on his side. Lizaveta seemed impervious to any effort he made at getting through to her, and the more time he spent in her presence, the less capable of making such attempts he became. The guards were another story.

In the meantime, he was left alone again with nothing to do. The room was chillier than it had been in the morning, and the sun was invisible behind the screen of dark, threatening clouds. Daniel climbed out and got dressed again. An extra blanket had been left on the bed, folded at the foot. It seemed that the change in the weather had not gone unnoticed by his captors. He picked it up and shook it out, wrapping it around his shoulders.

What was coming next? He contemplated what they'd tried thus far. Boredom. Straightforward beating. Overwhelming noise. Electric shock. Daniel shook his head. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was coming next. He snorted. No, he was positive he didn't want to know.

The most interesting part of his afternoon was watching the thunderstorm develop and finally break loose. After that, there was just the sound of rain hitting the roof above and occasional bright flashes followed by thunder.

A slight deepening in the gloom was all the indication he got that night was falling. Dinner came shortly after that. Daniel got up and ate. The food was drenched in creamy sauce, but quite edible. It was sad when bland meatballs covered in bland sauce was the highlight of his day.

Once he was done eating, he returned to the bed, wrapped himself in the blanket again and watched the storm until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. Then he crawled under the covers and went to sleep.

The next day passed without incident. The thunderstorm had moved on leaving heavy rain in its wake. It was a singularly depressing day, and Daniel retired early. The next morning dawned bright and cheerful. Daniel grimaced at the sunlight. He got cleaned up and looked at the wounds he could see. There were a couple of red spots on his chest, but nothing particularly noticeable. His arms were rainbow colored. The burn on his leg was healing nicely, the blisters were all gone and though it was sensitive, it no longer hurt. His ankle hadn't bothered him since the first day of loud music.

Overall, he was feeling better than he had in days. Under the circumstances that made him very nervous.

After his morning routine, when he'd finished breakfast, he pulled the chair over by the window and looked out. Birds were flying above the trees. He saw a hawk stoop after some hapless prey animal. There wasn't much more movement than that. The sun rose high in the sky, and still Daniel watched the view from his window.

He pulled off his shirt and looked around the room for something to write with. There was nothing, and he was contemplating methods of accessing his blood when the door opened. He looked up in startlement. He'd spread the shirt, back upwards, across the table and was standing there with his bare skin covered in goose-pimples. The first guard paused on the threshold and they stood frozen, staring at each other. Daniel couldn't tell which it was because he was masked, as they always were. The man was shoved forward by his companions. Four of them, which suggested another trip.

Daniel snatched up the shirt and was about to put it on when one of them grabbed it out of his hands. "You won't be needing that," he said. It was Piotr, and Daniel was not reassured by the slightly amused tone in his voice. He tucked his arms around his torso, feeling considerably more naked than he actually was.

Piotr tossed the shirt onto the bed and grabbed for one of Daniel's arms. Daniel shifted backwards. "Where are we going now?" he asked. Piotr and one of the others seized him and forced him to his knees again. Daniel struggled to free himself. "What's going on now?"

Hands pulled his arms around behind him, gentler this time than before. He wondered who it was. Piotr and his friend were still holding onto him tightly, but the masks made it very difficult to know who was who, particularly since he didn't think they were always the same group of men. Cuffs closed around his wrists, and then a hand squeezed his with what felt suspiciously like sympathy. He didn't know the cause, though, and that made him very uneasy.

They hustled him down the stairs and into the medical room again. The camera was set up in here now, pointing towards the wall with the dangling manacles. He stared at it with more than a little apprehension as they took him to stand in front of that wall. They left his hands bound behind him though, for the moment, and Piotr and the other guard stayed on either side of him.

Lizaveta stood on the other side of the camera. One of the guards picked up a newspaper and brought it over to him. He looked down at the day's _New York Times_ and an article regarding the Federal Reserve. He glanced up when Lizaveta moved. Her hand was on the camera and she was sighting through it. "Good," she said. "Dr. Jackson, read that article when I turn the camera on."

Daniel gulped and, when she started the recording, commenced reading. He was too flustered by the unexpected nature of this particular recording session to think of codes to put into the reading, so he just read it normally. Alan Greenspan was lowering the interest rates again. Before he'd quite finished, the guard took the newspaper away and he faltered to a stop.

There was a brief pause, then Lizaveta said, "Turn him."

They turned him around and unbound his wrists. He didn't believe this was happening. Surely they weren't going to send a videotape of torture to the government. He kicked out sideways and twisted, trying to get away from the hands that were holding him. He got one hand loose and managed to land a blow on Piotr's head, but it was no use. They slammed him against the wall and bound his wrists into the leather manacles. Then they stepped back and, again, nothing happened for awhile. He wondered what they were doing.

Then he heard footsteps moving towards him and he tensed. He wouldn't have believed he could tense any more than he already was, but it was apparently possible. Something whistled through the air behind him, and a blow struck his back like a line of fire. This time it _was_ a whip, and they weren't holding back. He let out a startled cry, then grit his teeth.

It seemed to go on and on, but no one was counting the blows, not even him, so he had no idea how many times they'd hit him when they stopped. More than five. Maybe even more than ten.

When they finally stopped, he was barely holding himself upright. At some point he'd wrapped his hands around the chains above the manacles, gripping them to keep from hanging by the wrists. They released his arms and turned him around. When they let go of him, he collapsed to his knees. Lizaveta was still behind the camera and she pointed it downwards so that the lens was still focused on his face. Daniel glared up at her.

"Dr. Jackson," she said, "do you want to go home?" He didn't reply, he just continued to glare. "Tell your government to give us what we want."

Daniel closed his eyes and marshaled his strength. He wanted to stand up, but he couldn't summon the energy. He opened his eyes again. All the fury and frustration that had built up over the last few days rose up and made it difficult to speak. Forcing his way past the emotional blockage, he ground out three words. "I. Will. Not." A hand came out of nowhere and struck him in the face, knocking him back against the wall. His back struck the hard surface and he let out an involuntary cry of pain. Anger lent him an adrenaline surge that allowed him to get to his feet. Piotr hooked his feet out from under him and he landed on his hands and knees. He lifted his head and glared into the camera lens. "Don't do it!"

They took him back upstairs again and dumped him on the bed, on his face. He lay there, unable to bring himself to move until the door opened again. Then he tried to sit up, to see what was coming, but footsteps came quickly across the room. "Don't move, Dr. Jackson," said a soft voice. His English was a lot more colloquial than any of the others who'd spoken thus far. "I just want to treat your back."

"Come to rub salt in my wounds, huh?" Daniel muttered. Gentle hands helped him to straighten out on the bed, then the man got up and moved away, running water into a basin, from the sound. He returned to the bed and started washing Daniel's back with great care, as if to cause as little pain as possible. "Do the others know you're here?" Daniel asked.

"Of course. They don't want you to get an infection."

Daniel let out a snort, then winced as that shifted the skin on his back. He lay motionless under the ministrations of the guard, wondering what on earth had inspired him to be so gentle. The antibiotic stung when it was applied, and there was no realistic way to bandage whip scores. "How many are there?" he asked suddenly.

"I do not know the exact count," the man said. "I thought it was too many, but they wouldn't listen to me."

"I think one was too many," Daniel said. "This isn't going to gain you people anything."

"Some of us have recognized that, but Lizaveta is stubborn, and she wants to prove herself."

"Well, she's proven herself to be a wacko bitch."

The other man cleared his throat, sounding a bit embarrassed. He finished the treatment of Daniel's back in silence. "Stay on your stomach tonight, and don't submerse these in water. I'll be back in the morning to clean them again. Other than that, you'll just have to settle for a sponge bath, Dr. Jackson."

"Charming." Daniel sighed. "Thank you," he said after a moment. "But don't call me Dr. Jackson, you can call me Daniel. What's your name?"

"Gregor." He rested his hands on Daniel's shoulders, above the highest whip cut. "You are a good and brave man, and don't deserve this," he said. "I wish there was more I could do to take care of you." His fingers moved slightly in what felt like a caress.

Daniel had closed his eyes, but now they snapped open. He couldn't – he didn't –

"Good night, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel took in a deep breath. "Good night, Gregor," he said. Gregor did a few chores like dumping the water, closing the windows against the chill air, and gathering up the supplies he'd brought with him, then he left. Daniel thumped his forehead against the pillow. What more could possibly happen?

* * *

Hammond had said nothing more detailed about this video than that it showed Daniel being tortured, which was enough to make Jack want to throw the computer through the window. Unfortunately, that wouldn't cause any damage to the people he wanted to hurt. 

Carter was sitting at his shoulder. He didn't turn to look at her, but he could imagine her devastated expression. The video started on an image of Daniel, stripped to the waist with his hands bound behind his back. Masked guards in black clothes surrounded him, and one of them held out a newspaper so that Daniel could see it. He looked up into the lens of the camera, licked his lips, then tilted his head and began to read an article about Alan Greenspan aloud, his voice not entirely steady as he kept glancing up at someone behind the camera. Before he finished the article, the newspaper was taken away, leaving him looking lost and uncertain.

Jack didn't know what to expect. Why they had him stripped, he couldn't begin to imagine, but some of the layers of bruises that encircled his upper arms clearly predated the previous video. No doubt the long sleeves they'd put him in had been intended to cover them.

Carter was a tense presence beside him, practically twanging. The guards grabbed him, demonstrating aptly the exact source of those bruises, and turned him to face the wall. Taking the cuffs off, they forced his wrists into cuffs suspended from the ceiling.

There was a low hiss from Carter when they got a good look at his back. As soon as he was chained to the wall – and Jack wanted to beat on someone for that – they could see that sickening colors covered his back. Someone had given him a thorough beating. Why, Jack couldn't guess. Maybe Daniel had tried to escape, maybe he had mouthed off, whatever the 'reason,' nothing could excuse it.

He was clearly expecting more of the same, the way he'd fought against the hands that bound him to the wall. It made Jack want to wade in and start shooting people, but that wouldn't be an option till they knew where he was.

After the reissue of the ransom demands, a man walked forward and stood to Daniel's side. He had something in his hand, but just what wasn't clear until he swung it back and struck the defenseless man with it. The whip cracked against Daniel's back, and Carter let out an expletive Jack had never heard her say. Jack counted the blows automatically, utterly appalled by the tactic. What did they hope to achieve by doing this, videotaping it and sending it to Washington?

Fifteen stripes. Jack had counted automatically. Fifteen. Finally, they released him from the chains and turned him back to face the camera. When they let go of him, he collapsed to the floor and Jack clenched his fists. The woman's voice spoke from behind the camera, a mocking tone to her words. "Do you want to go home, Dr. Jackson?" Daniel didn't say anything, but his expression was eloquent. Then she urged him to beg for the demands to be granted, just to add to the guilt of whoever might be watching these images. Daniel refused and the man next to him hit him hard enough to knock him back into the wall. Fury seemed to galvanize him, for he rose despite the pain and exhaustion he had to be feeling. The man who'd hit him knocked his feet out from under him.

From his knees, Daniel glared up into the camera and issued a command to the watcher. "Don't do it!" The image froze on that angry determination, and the woman spoke again, urging them not to waste the man's loyalty and self-sacrifice by forcing them to kill him.

It had been sent via the internet to Washington, and then forwarded to the embassy and brought to him at his hotel. Jack wondered just how many people had seen it now, and how Daniel was going to take it. Sam let out a sudden stream of furious epithets, some of which Jack was almost sure she'd learned from Daniel. "Why are they doing that?" she demanded.

"Because they know it will bug us," Jack said.

Robbed of a valid target, Carter turned her anger on him. "How can you be so calm about it, sir? Daniel's out there being tortured, and –"

"I am not calm," Jack said, and she broke off. "I'm controlled. There is a difference."

Carter flushed and nodded, her lips tight. "Of course sir, I'm sorry."

Jack's cell phone rang. He picked it up and said, "O'Neill here."

"Jack, have you seen that video yet?" The general's voice was vibrating with rage.

"Yes sir, Carter and I just finished."

"I have been on the phone with the president and he is champing at the bit. What kind of progress have you made so far?"

Jack grimaced. "We've made enormous amounts of no progress, sir," he said. "Oddly enough, I don't get the slightest impression that anyone in the government is deliberately obstructing us."

"Didn't that Metzov fellow have a daughter?"

"She appears to be the invisible woman, sir," Jack said sourly. "We've questioned everyone who lived in the apartments around her, but no one seems to have known her at all. We're following a lead on an ex-boyfriend, but the investigation is somewhat hampered by my lack of a totally reliable translator."

"Have the Russians failed to provide you with someone?"

"It's not that, sir," Jack said. "It's just that I'm used to the best."

There was a pause while Hammond absorbed the implications of that statement. "Right."

"Well, I need to acquaint the rest of my team with this latest information."

"Do that, colonel. Oh, and I think I've cleared the way politically to send over another operative to help you."

"Really? Who?" Jack was expecting someone from the CIA, or some other intelligence agency. He certainly wasn't expecting what he got.

"Teal'c is on his way already. He should contact you from Germany to meet you wherever you are when he gets there."

"Glad to hear it, sir. He could prove very useful."

"I'm sure he will."

He finished the call and slipped the phone back into its holster on his belt. "Hammond has sent Teal'c."

"But . . . I thought he wasn't allowed out of the country."

"A pretty ridiculous restriction, if you ask me," Jack said. "After all, every time we go on a mission, he leaves the country and goes a hell of a lot farther away."

Carter shook her head with an exasperated look. "Sir, what I mean is, how did the general get permission?"

"I'm assuming it has something to do with that little message we just saw. I gather the president's not a real happy camper."

"He's not alone in that," Carter said. "Are you going to show it to the others?"

"I think I'd better. Not that I think they're lacking in motivation, but this will just cement it."

"You're probably right," she said. "I don't think Daniel's going to like it, though."

"I'm not going to worry about what Daniel will or won't like until Daniel's in front of me," Jack said. "Let's go."

She nodded and they went to share the news. As Jack had expected, the rest of the team was livid. Jack wondered if the ambassador had seen it, and if he'd shown it to the Russian government, and what effect it would have there.

"So, sir, do we have permission to take these guys apart?" Feretti asked. Myers and the others nodded eagerly.

Jack shrugged. "Let's put it this way, the general is sending Teal'c."

Feretti's brows rose. "Then I guess we do."

Jack didn't commit himself, but he was going to play hell holding himself back if they could identify who the bastard was who'd put those stripes on Daniel, and who had authorized it.


	8. Disquieting News

**Chapter 8 – Disquieting News**

Despite the windows being closed, Daniel was still very cold as the night passed, but the idea of putting a blanket over his back was more than he could stand. Even a sheet would be too painful. Morning came and a guard brought food. Daniel had just managed to get himself up to go to the bathroom, but he looked at the plate of food without interest and went back to lie down on the bed. It was sausage and eggs and greasy fried potatoes, and at the moment it turned Daniel's stomach.

"You need to eat," said the guard, and Daniel recognized Gregor's voice.

"I'm really not hungry this morning," he replied without looking up. He clutched a pillow to his chest to elevate his head slightly. "Would you mind taking it away, actually? The smell is making me feel sick."

Gregor came over and squatted by the head of the bed. "Do you think you could get some broth down or something like that?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you," Daniel said, grimacing. "Look, Gregor, I'm serious, I really don't want anything to eat."

The other man rested a hand on Daniel's head for a moment. "All right, Daniel," he said. "I will take the food away, but you must eat lunch."

"We'll see."

Gregor left, taking the tray and the smell of sausage and grease away with him. Within a half hour, though, he'd returned with a space heater and got it set up. Then he started running water and Daniel closed his eyes. He didn't want to face the pain of having the whip scores washed again, but he didn't want an infection any more than they did.

Once again, Gregor was very gentle. There hadn't been the slightest hint that Daniel's insane surmise of the previous evening had been correct. Gregor hadn't made the smallest noise that sounded like interest. Daniel began to believe that he was simply paranoid.

When he was done, Gregor cleaned up after himself walked towards the door. As he passed the head of the bed, he dropped a small book in front of Daniel. He didn't stop, he didn't make any kind of a production out of it, he simply dropped it, as if by accident, then went out the door.

Daniel blinked at the slim red volume, then shifted so that he could pick it up. It was in French. He flipped it open and looked at the first pages. It was a novel that was printed in very small font, so it was longer than it looked at first glance. Daniel heard footsteps outside the room and hastily tucked the book under the pillow.

The door opened and two people walked in, Lizaveta and a guard he thought was Piotr. He really didn't want to be lying down in front of them, so he started to get up. Before he moved very far, Piotr moved forward and put a hand on the back of his neck, pushing him back down. "Stay where you are," he said.

Daniel reluctantly relaxed so that he was still lying on his stomach and listened as Lizaveta moved around the room. Piotr released his head and stepped back out of sight and Daniel turned just enough to be able to see where they were. Piotr was by the table, and Daniel heard the chair moving against the floor. Lizaveta was completely out of sight which made Daniel decidedly nervous. He turned back. Twisting wasn't gaining him much, and it was painful.

"Do you not think, as I do, Dr. Jackson, that your government should never have let things get this far?" she asked from behind him. He didn't immediately reply, and she placed a hand on his back just above the highest whip cut. He stiffened. "I asked you a question," she said softly, then her hand moved lower on his back, sending agony through him. He started to turn, to try and shift the vulnerable portion of his body out of her reach, but the pressure she placed on him when he did that made him gasp with pain.

"I think you're a nutcase," Daniel ground out.

"I do not understand your loyalty to people who wouldn't do anything to get you out of this position."

"You wouldn't," he replied.

"Perhaps you can explain it to me?" she asked

"What would be the point?" he demanded.

"Do you _like _pain?" she asked, pressing her hand against his back again. He let out a grunt. "It is foolish to refuse to answer."

Daniel grimaced. "Fine. I wouldn't be loyal to them if they would do anything to get me back. There are things that are wrong, and I wouldn't want anyone to do them on my behalf."

"That makes no sense."

"I said you wouldn't understand," he said, knowing he was pressing his luck but unable to stop himself.

"Perhaps a few more days will suffice to persuade you to do some work for us," she said, pressing on his back as she got up. He groaned, unable to stop himself. She walked away, and he heard water running, then she left the room. Daniel was uncomfortably aware that Piotr hadn't left.

There was silence for several moments, and then Piotr spoke. "I hope you do not think that you can use Gregor's infatuation with you as a means of escape," he said.

"What are you talking about?" Daniel asked, his heart sinking.

Piotr pulled the chair further up towards the head of the bed so that he could meet Daniel's eyes. "You are a more perceptive man than that, Dr. Jackson." Daniel swallowed uncomfortably. So he wasn't being paranoid. "I plan to keep a very close watch on Gregor. He may find you bewitching, but if he even thinks about helping you to get away, I will kill him."

"I think you must be misinterpreting his behavior," Daniel said, choosing to appear obtuse instead of acknowledging that he'd seen what Piotr was referring to.

Piotr shrugged. "Pretend if you like, Dr. Jackson. And hope that he doesn't get impatient."

With that, the other man got up and left the room. Daniel let his forehead thump against the bed. This just kept getting better and better. One thing he did note, Piotr had said nothing about Gregor while Lizaveta was in the room. He wasn't sure how he could use that information, but he filed it away for future reference.

After awhile, he remembered the book and pulled it out nervously. He didn't know what Piotr or Lizaveta would do if they found it, to him or to Gregor. For all he knew, Piotr already knew about it. He sighed. Gregor had seemed a pleasant enough fellow. Probably Piotr had just been trying to alarm him with his remark about impatience.

Daniel opened the book and started reading. French existential novels were not his cup of tea, but it was thought that originated outside himself, and as such it was exceptionally welcome. When footsteps announced the arrival of his lunch, Daniel shut the book hastily and tucked it under the pillow.

The guard who delivered lunch was blessedly silent and didn't touch him. He just handed across the plate of sandwiches and soda, thoughtfully provided with a straw so Daniel didn't have to sit up. Then he left again. Daniel ate and then put the plate on the floor beside the bed. Pulling the book back out, he started reading again.

Trips to the bathroom were less than pleasant with his back a mass of aching, bloody welts. He was on his way back to the bed when he heard footsteps outside the door again. Darkness outside combined with the rumbling in his gut suggested it was dinner time. The door opened and a single guard came in with a box of medical supplies.

"How are you feeling, Daniel?" Gregor asked.

Daniel bit his lip and took a deep breath. "I'm in pain," he said after a moment. "No dinner yet?"

"I wanted to make sure how the cuts were healing, and see if I could bandage you yet."

"Ah."

"So, if you could just sit down . . ." Gregor got him situated how he wanted him, and Daniel was uncomfortably aware of his own suspicions and Piotr's outright allegations every time the other man put his hands on his bare torso.

"I think we can bandage this, though it may prove uncomfortable." Gregor put his hands on Daniel's shoulders, and his fingers stroked back and forth along the skin. "It's up to you."

"Which do you recommend?" Daniel asked.

"Well, comely as you are topless, I think you would be happier with a shirt on, and you won't be able to wear one without bandages."

Daniel blinked, very glad that Gregor couldn't see his face. "Right," he said. "Well, let's go with the bandages, then."

It involved much winding of long strips of cotton, and though Gregor did nothing inappropriate during the process, the fear that he might kept Daniel on edge. When the bandaging was done, Gregor helped him into a t-shirt and a long-sleeved overshirt. The guard sat down as Daniel finished buttoning the shirt up.

"So, are you enjoying the book?" he asked.

"I've started it for a second time through," Daniel said.

"I wondered," Gregor said. He stood up and went over to the bed, then glanced at Daniel.

"Under the pillow."

Gregor nodded, lifted the pillow, pulled another book out of his shirt and made a quick swap. "I can't bring more than one at a time for fear they'll notice something, but I'll try to make sure you have things to read. Now, I'd better fetch your dinner." Daniel remained sitting upright while he waited. It was nice not to be flat on a bed. There wasn't much he could do to defend himself in this position, but being flat on his face on a bed made him feel incredibly vulnerable.

Gregor returned with his dinner and lingered while Daniel ate. "Tell me," he said after a few minutes, "do you like working with the American military?"

Daniel chewed on the stuffed chicken breast, thankful that the food in his mouth gave him an excuse not to respond immediately. When he had swallowed, he said, "I really don't think I can answer that question."

"I am not Lizaveta. I will not try to use it against you, and I won't tell her."

Daniel shook his head. "That's not the point, Gregor," he said. "You're being very kind, but I still have to . . ." He ran out of words. Uncertain how to express himself without giving offense, he grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"I should probably go. If I spend too much time up here, the others will ask questions."

Daniel nodded and Gregor left. This was all getting far too complicated, and the repeated punishments they'd inflicted on him had rendered him incapable of even attempting escape should the opportunity present itself.

He had no way of understanding the socio-political interactions of the group that was holding him. For all he knew, this was a ploy to get Gregor in a position where Daniel would talk to him. He couldn't – shouldn't – trust any of them. He had very little impression of personality from any of them besides Gregor and Piotr, which actually made him trust those two less. Why were they setting themselves apart from the rest, seeking his notice? Was there some goal, some 'good cop / bad cop' manipulation going on with the two of them? Or maybe 'bad cop / worse cop.'

Had they actually sent the video tape of his flogging to the States? Did Jack know about it yet? Had Sumner and the others been sent home? Daniel hated this waiting, but since asking questions could give away information, he thought it wise to avoid it. Ordinarily, he'd try to engage in some sort of dialogue with his captors, but this situation was different. First, he found Lizaveta so thoroughly revolting that he didn't think he could be civil to her. Second, most of the time when he was being held prisoner, it was by people with a markedly different cultural viewpoint. They weren't from Earth, and so had limited points of reference with which to interpret his words. They also were unlikely to be able to apply whatever they might learn.

Russia might be a different country, but it was still Earth, so neither of those situations applied. And in this particular case, with them actively seeking information from him, he had to be even more careful. Jack had to be out there somewhere. Daniel put his head in his hands. There had to be some way he could help them find him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't think of any.

This book was a thriller, also in French. It made Daniel wonder if Gregor was raiding some little-used portion of the house library. It was odd and vaguely amusing to be reading about a young woman being held prisoner by a ruthless madman in a castle out in the middle of nowhere. That was where the similarity ended. He very much doubted that he was going to be rescued by a handsome young suitor, unless Gregor counted.

He hid the book under the mattress and lay down to sleep.

Gregor woke him in the morning and removed the bandages. He cleaned the wounds, and Daniel controlled his reactions, both pain and disquietude. After re-wrapping his chest so that his torso resembled that of a b-movie version of a mummy, Gregor stood and said, "We'll be coming for you in an hour or so. Lizaveta wants to talk to you again."

Daniel closed his eyes. "Thanks for the warning."

"Just don't act like you know, please?" Gregor said. "I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Of course not," Daniel said. "Thank you."

Gregor smiled and touched his shoulder. "I will have to be rougher then, please understand."

"I do," Daniel said. Gregor nodded and left, and Daniel stared blindly through the window. What did Lizaveta want with him now? Surely there could be no more punishments for awhile, and he didn't want to think too hard about what the next one might be. So far the strictly physical attacks had escalated steadily. First a beating, then electric shocks, and now flogging. What would come next? Branding irons?

* * *

Jack got notice that Teal'c would be arriving in the morning, so he sent Feretti's team out with their native guides and sent Carter out with Captain Myers and Lt. Antonov. They were, at this point, mostly getting nothing much, but hope springs eternal.

When they'd gone, he sat down at the desk to write a lack of progress report for General Hammond. It took longer than he'd expected. Just writing 'we're getting bloody nowhere' seemed insufficient. He was deep in an explanation of the dearth of information they'd gained at Metzov's apartment when the phone rang. He reached out and picked it up.

"Sir, we've got a definite lead on where the boyfriend is," Carter said. "We've run across an old friend of Lizaveta Metzov, so we're getting some good information, and I thought maybe you'd like to take Teal'c and meet with Vasilii Borodin."

"That sounds good, but then we don't have a translator."

"Borodin teaches English at a university," she replied. "I don't think there'll be a problem."

"No, that should cover it," Jack said. "Where?"

"In Novgorod, so you may need to get someone to fly you over, but our guide called to check and see if he was still teaching there, and he is."

"I'll get on it."

He hung up and then dialed his contact in the Russian military immediately. There was a knock on the door. He walked over, opened the door, saw Teal'c and gestured for him to come in, leaving him to close the door. When he had finagled a chopper for them to get to the western city, he hung and turned around.

To his surprise, Teal'c was not alone. Colonel Sumner was with him, and he looked less than certain of his reception. "The medicos release you?" Jack asked diffidently.

"They did, sir," Sumner said. "I asked General Hammond if I could come along to help retrieve Dr. Jackson and he gave me permission."

Jack nodded. "Well, you're more than welcome. Have you both seen the latest ransom demand?"

Teal'c nodded gravely, looking murderous. The intimidation factor would be there, Jack was glad to see. The only question was whether he'd be able to channel it properly.

"That was part of what inspired me to come, sir," Sumner said, his eyes narrowed. "They sent Jones and Harvester stateside on the plane that brought Teal'c, so it was a good time for me to come."

"Good, well we're on a chopper in about fifty minutes, so let's get the two of you checked in." Within ninety minutes, they were in the air on their way to Novgorod. He filled the two of them in on their mission on the way.

"How will we speak with the man we are going to see, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked curiously. "If he does not speak your language."

"He teaches English," Jack said. "Presumably that means he can communicate using it, though one never knows, I suppose."

After that, they were silent, three men thinking dark thoughts. At least, Jack's thoughts were dark, and he guessed by the expressions of the other two that they weren't thinking about bunnies and kittens. He leaned back against the side of the chopper and contemplated exactly what he'd like to do to the man who had so thoroughly whipped his best friend for no good reason.

By the time they landed in Novgorod, the powers that be had located Professor Borodin for them and had arranged for a meeting at the local police station. Jack wasn't altogether sure that he appreciated having the first contact with the man taken out of his hands like that, but it was water under the dam . . . or over the bridge . . . or something.

Their driver took them to the police station where the military officer who'd been sent to locate Borodin was waiting. He led them into an interrogation room where a dark-haired man in his mid-thirties was pacing impatiently. When they entered, he looked up with some surprise. Teal'c was wearing slacks, a shirt, and a hat pulled low over his forehead, but both Jack and Sumner were wearing their undress blues. Their status as foreign military officers wasn't precisely subtle.

Borodin said something in Russian, and Jack felt his lips tighten. Rudeness never impressed him unless it was calculated for effect.

"This _is_ a matter of national security," said Gubinov, the Russian officer. "These men are here from America and they have some questions for you. Your government would appreciate your complete cooperation on this matter."

Borodin looked uneasily at Jack and then at Teal'c and Sumner, both of whom were radiating hostility. Jack smiled. "My name is Colonel Jack O'Neill, of the United States Air Force."

"I am Dr. Vasilii Borodin. How can I help you?"

"Let's sit down," Jack said, gesturing with his head towards the table. Borodin gave them all another uneasy look, but he walked over to the table and sat down opposite Jack. Sumner took the seat beside Jack and Teal'c remained standing. Looming.

Gubinov took a look at the dynamics and sat down on Borodin's side of the table.

"All right," Jack said, "we're looking into one Vladislav Metzov." Borodin's eyes widened. "I take it you know the gentleman?"

"I would not call him a gentleman," Borodin said darkly. "Why do you want to know about him?"

Jack pursed his lips. "As a result of a number of classified events – classified in both our countries, mind you – he has managed to abduct a non-military member of my command. A colleague of yours, if I'm not mistaken. You are a doctor of language?"

"Linguistics," Borodin said, nodding.

"Yes, Daniel has a doctorate in linguistics, as well as one in anthropology and another in archeology." Borodin's eyes widened. Jack gave the man a charming, disarming grin. "He's a bit of an overachiever." He didn't have to be the scary one this time, not with Sumner just about glowing with his willingness to do damage. Teal'c's presence alone was enough to get questions answered.

"Why would Metzov want such a man?" Borodin asked. "And what is he doing attached to a military command?"

"That's not important, what is important is that we're beginning to think his daughter might be involved, and we have information that you and she were dating at one time."

"We were engaged," Borodin corrected. "But her father was the end of that."

"Really?"

"Da. When I met her, she hadn't seen her father in nearly fifteen years. Her parents had an unpleasant divorce, and he seemed not to be interested in a young daughter. Then, about a year after we got engaged, her mother died and her father came to the funeral. Lizaveta changed practically overnight. She'd always been a bit . . . aggressive." He shrugged. "But once she started spending time with her father, she seemed to want to be more like him, and he was not a pleasant individual. I had dinner at his apartment several times, and he was very rude to me. He seemed to think that the only people of any worth were soldiers. Lizaveta started echoing his opinions, then she announced one day that academics had neither honor nor courage and she couldn't marry a man without such traits."

"Sounds charming," Jack said.

Borodin shook his head. "After she changed so much, after she left, I began to realize that it wasn't so much a change as an opening up of her real nature. She'd always shown signs of flexible morals and a streak of cruelty, but I'd chosen to overlook them in my . . ." He shrugged again. "Love is supposed to be a form of insanity, is it not?"

Jack blinked. "I suppose so," he said. "Look, if I played you a recording of a voice, could you tell me if it was hers or not?"

"I am sure that I could."

Before Jack could even ask the question, Gubinov said, "What sort of a player do you need?"

"A laptop, probably. It's a video."

"Well, surely you have a picture of her," Borodin said. "If she's on a video –"

Jack's smile tightened. "Her voice is on the video, she's not."

Gubinov left the room and Jack sat back. "So, can you give me any idea of where they might have taken our friend?"

Borodin shook his head. "Nowhere specific. She did mention, shortly after she first started spending time with her father, when I was still worth talking to, that he'd taken her to some kind of place up in the north that he owned. He'd bought it with money he'd gotten from some kind of shady government deal. That's what she said, at any rate, with a glee that disturbed me."

"We haven't found that he owns any property," Jack said.

"Assuming it was true to begin with, he might not own it in his own name."

Jack nodded slowly. There were people in the Russian government investigating that, but he thought he'd just mention this to Hammond so that he could maybe get some of their folks looking into it. Gubinov returned with a laptop and Jack turned it to face himself. No need for these guys to see the attack on Daniel. He popped the disk in and it started up. He fast forwarded to the end and turned up the volume so that the woman's voice was more audible.

"You should take action now, and not waste this man's valuable intellect, loyalty and self-sacrifice," she said, and Jack could almost hear Teal'c's teeth grinding.

He looked up and Borodin was nodding. "That's her."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Only that she has something of an attitude towards academics. You said he's not a military man?"

"He a very stubborn civilian," Jack said, sighing.

"Very stubborn," Teal'c agreed.

"She will have no respect for him, then," Borodin said. "And nor will her father. I do think he believes that academics are . . . what did he call them? 'Weak and without honor.'"

"That would not be an accurate description of DanielJackson," Teal'c observed dispassionately.

"So, no more information than some kind of facility in the north?"

Borodin pursed his lips. "She said it was within ten miles of a village, and I think she said it had been a fortress in the past, a military fortress. In a forest."

This was sounding promising. "If you think of anything else . . ." He trailed off, suddenly unsure what to tell the man to do.

Gubinov chimed in smoothly. "Call me," he said, handing Borodin his card. "Tell them it's to do with Dr. Jackson and they'll get –"

"Dr. Daniel Jackson?" Borodin exclaimed, eyes widening as he looked about at all of them in apparent surprise. "I'm sorry, it took a moment to sink in. He is the one who is missing? But I know him!"

Jack blinked. "You know Daniel?"

Borodin nodded earnestly. "Indeed. There were problems with my hotel reservations in Stockholm during the International Symposium on Linguistics and Culture Studies and he very kindly shared his room with me."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah, that's Daniel, all right."

"He seemed very knowledgeable, and I was surprised that he was not more widely published. I have watched for his name since, but I still do not find his works published very often."

"Most of his work is classified," Jack said. He considered that for a moment, then pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And the fact that it's classified is also classified, now that I think of it."

Borodin blinked. "I see."

"In any case, yes, it's Daniel that's missing."

"What is she doing to him?"

Jack grimaced. "I think that's probably classified as well," he said. "Thank you Dr. Borodin, you've been a great help."

"I wish it could be more. I hope you find him soon."

In the chopper on their way back to Moscow, Sumner said, "Does Jackson make friends everywhere he goes?"

"Nope," Jack said, leaning back against the wall of the chopper. "People like Metzov and his crazy daughter see him as a challenge."

"Where is Colonel Metzov?" Teal'c asked.

"That is the question," Jack replied.

"No, I believe you have misunderstood me. The woman on the tape sounds most authoritative, not as if she is getting instructions from another, and the strategy makes little sense, as if someone inexperienced were making the decisions."

"We know Metzov has him," Sumner said, shaking his head.

"Pardon me for contradicting you, Colonel Sumner, but we know only that he took DanielJackson from the cell in the Russian stargate command. We have no way of knowing if he put him in another's custody after that."

Sumner blinked and sat back, looking thoughtful.

"Maybe you're right, Teal'c," Jack said. "I've been thinking as I read through what they gave me of Metzov's file that this was a pretty amateurish operation for him to have been managing it."

"Why would he hand someone as important as Dr. Jackson to an inexperienced operative?" Sumner asked.

"According to Dr. Borodin, he does not have much respect for men like DanielJackson. He thinks they are weak, and no doubt that they are easily controlled. It is possible that he thought a strong enough show of force would cause DanielJackson to cavern."

"The word is 'cave,' Teal'c."

"Indeed?" Teal'c said, tilting his head.

Sumner ignored the byplay. "So he might have thought that his daughter could handle a 'weak academic.'"

"Whereas she is unprepared for a man of DanielJackson's stubbornness and convictions."

Jack sighed. "Someone with flexible morals may have difficulty grasping that other people's are less flexible. And Daniel probably has the least flexible morals of anyone I know."

"True enough," Sumner said.

"At least now we have something of a new direction to look in. North. Trees. Village with old military stronghold within ten or so miles. How many places in this vast country could that describe?"

"Several hundred?" Sumner replied with a sour grin.

"At the very least." Jack tilted his hand down over his eyes. "I think I'll take a nap."


	9. Changes

**Chapter 9 -- Changes**

The next three books Gregor brought him were a confirmation, if he'd needed any, that the man's feelings were amorous in nature. Two were stories of homosexual love, the second one bordering on the pornographic. He turned the page. Okay, not bordering. He tilted his head, looking at the picture. He didn't think that position was physically possible. It didn't even look comfortable, much less pleasurable. The other book had been a fairly apt translation of _Wuthering Heights_ in German.

Subtle he was not. _Wuthering Heights_ alone wasn't much of a hint, but two melodramatic romances combined with a couple of fairly explicit homoerotic novels got the point across quite adequately. One of his friends in college had told him that he should always take an expression of attraction as a compliment, no matter who it came from. Somehow he didn't think Geoff had this situation in mind at the time.

Refusing to read the books would be an insult to his 'benefactor' and would also be shooting himself in the foot. He had nothing to do otherwise, and no knowledge was ever wasted. Though this book had a lot of fantasy in it, he thought as he read through yet another physically challenging sexual encounter. These men were not only flexible, they were masters of endurance.

Needless to say, Daniel started taking a great deal of care in choosing his time for bathing, carefully timing it for between lunch and dinner when no one came near the room.

Lizaveta had taken to bringing him down to the library in the mornings and making him sit in a chair in front of an open file. He guessed she was trying to get him to give in. He scanned the first page of each of the files she put before him and memorized the gate coordinates for future reference, then he looked at the wall opposite. Every so often, she'd walk up, put a hand on his shoulder and lean down, pressing her fingers into his back. Then she'd hint that he might want to get to work.

Evidently she was too stupid to grasp that nothing she could do was going to make him change his mind.

He put the book down and looked at the sun. It was about halfway between lunch and dinner. He got up and took a quick sponge bath. He still didn't dare get the cuts on his back wet. He had just pulled on his pants and was reaching for his shirt when the door opened unexpectedly. He jumped at the sound it made against the wall, and hissed at the pain the sudden movement gave him.

Turning more slowly, he felt all his muscles stiffen as he saw Colonel Metzov, who looked anything but pleased. He was accompanied by two of the black-clad guards and Lizaveta. She seemed strangely subdued.

"Get the bandages off him," Metzov ordered.

"What's going on?" Daniel asked, backing away as the guards started towards him.

"I merely wish to see the injuries, Dr. Jackson. Do not be such a coward."

Because he couldn't get away in any case, and because he'd only cause them to do more damage to him if he resisted, he submitted to the guards. One of them was Gregor and the other was Piotr. He could tell the minute they touched him. Piotr was brisk and efficient, and paid little attention to the possibility of causing pain. Gregor's touch was gentler but more lingering. Frankly, he'd rather have had two Piotrs than one Gregor. He knew what to expect from Piotr.

They positioned him so that Metzov could examine his back. He stood there, filled with fury and no little embarrassment. After several minutes, he heard a sharp crack of flesh hitting flesh, but it wasn't him this time. Lizaveta let out a cry of pain.

"I told you to leave persuasion to me!" he growled.

"I did not think he would be so stubborn, Father," she replied.

"You have not yet been authorized to think, girl!" There was the sound of another blow. "Your folly may have ruined our chances of ever persuading him."

Daniel turned to see that Metzov had his arm raised as though to strike her again. "Cut it out!" he said. "She didn't ruin anything. You never had a chance." Jack would have kicked him for saying that, but it was too late now. The words were out there and Metzov was slowly turning, lowering his hand.

"Soft," he spat at Daniel. "She has been torturing you, and now you want to protect her." He shook his head, face contorted with disgust. "All scholars are soft and weak."

Daniel gulped. Talking back wasn't on the list of good things to do right now, though he wasn't much good at keeping silent.

"Turn around again," Metzov said. Unwillingly, feeling humiliated, Daniel turned. "At least they're healing well. Who has been tending them?"

"Gregor," Lizaveta said.

"Good work, Gregor."

Metzov walked around to stand in front of him and Daniel looked at him apprehensively. "Your government has not responded the way we would like to the ransom demands for you." Daniel didn't speak, barely blinked. "So it appears that you will be our guest for some while longer." Since he doubted very much that Metzov would appreciate him giving his real opinion of that prospect, Daniel remained silent. He had crossed his arms over his chest tightly and he was gazing unhappily up at Metzov's face. "We are still holding out hopes for some concessions, since we know just how important you really are, however, that will take time." Daniel closed his eyes and gulped. There wasn't much to be said to that. He was sure the government wouldn't make any concessions, but he wasn't about to tell Metzov that. No use convincing the man that he was of no use whatsoever. That would only serve to get him killed. "In the meantime, you might consider how you would prefer to spend your time. No decisions will be made until you're more fully healed, but I don't want you sitting idle."

This seemed to call for a response, so Daniel said, "I see."

"Get him bandaged up again and then make sure he gets his dinner," Metzov said over Daniel's head to Gregor.

"Yes sir," Gregor said.

He paused at the door and turned. "Actually, you've been keeping him totally isolated, haven't you, Lizaveta?"

"I have. I thought it would –"

"Quiet. Since you're doing such a good job caring for his wounds, Gregor, I'm going to assign you to keep him company. Make certain that his needs are met and that he has something to do. It's not good for him to be always alone."

From his tone and his manner, and the offhand way he was giving the order, Daniel was sure that he had no idea what feelings Gregor harbored for their captive, even if Piotr did, but Daniel didn't dare protest for fear of making things worse. It would certainly piss Gregor off, if nothing else.

They left, the two Metzovs first, then Piotr passed him with a chuckle. Gregor walked over and started putting fresh bandages around his torso to cover his back. "How did you like the book, Daniel?" he asked.

"It's . . . interesting," Daniel said as the door closed. The light in Gregor's eyes died a little. "I haven't read a great deal of homoerotic fiction, so it's new to me."

"Entirely new?" Gregor asked pausing as he wrapped, his hand on Daniel's ribs.

"Well, of course I've read some of the Greek works on Platonic friendships and similar writings." His best defense was impenetrable obtuseness. "I've always been amused by how, in English, the concept of 'Platonic love' has come to mean a non-sexual relationship between a man and a woman despite its origin in quite sexual relationships between men in ancient Greece."

"Yes, of course," Gregor said in the tone of one who hasn't understood more than a few words. "You know, those sorts of relationships exist outside of books."

Daniel wrinkled his eyebrow, more than vaguely alarmed by this sudden turn into obvious flirtation. "I had several gay friends in college," he said. "Sarah and I did, I mean."

"Who is Sarah?"

"She was my girlfriend in college. Very nice girl. Very pretty. I drove her away by working too hard." Babbling was not good. It showed he was nervous.

Gregor paused again. He had both his arms around Daniel, passing the bandage roll from one hand to the other. "Perhaps you drove her away for another reason."

"Nope, it was pretty much because I was focused on my thesis to the exclusion of all else." Daniel looked down at the bandages. "You know, I would really like to be able to put a shirt on," he said.

"Of course," Gregor said. He finished wrapping the bandages and said, "I'll go get you dinner and see if I can find some more books."

"Thank you," Daniel said. When the other man had left, Daniel put his head down on the table. He needed an Asgard transporter right about now. He just hoped that the others were out and safe and that Jack and Hammond knew about this. Otherwise he didn't know how he was getting out of here.

Gregor came back with a small stack of books and a chessboard. "I have heard you like chess. We shall play."

Playing chess was definitely better than other things Daniel suspected that Gregor had planned, so he agreed readily.

Gregor wasn't the best player in the world, which put Daniel in the position of trying to guess whether he should play well or whether he should let the man win. He didn't know how Gregor would react to losing, but he also didn't know how much Gregor knew about him as a chess player. They seemed to know more about the SGC than they should, though he doubted very much that the relative skill at games possessed by civilian consultants at the SGC was very high on the list of things to learn.

He compromised, letting Gregor feel as if he made him work for the victory. In a sense he had. Daniel had worked very hard at not crushing him in the first six moves. Gregor seemed pleased and reset the board for another game.

It might have been a pleasant way to spend the evening if Gregor hadn't spent most of it making less than subtle passes at him, playing footsie under the table and looking deep into Daniel's eyes whenever their gazes met. Somehow Daniel just didn't believe there was anything all that interesting about his eyes.

Long before he felt tired enough to sleep, Daniel manufactured a yawn. He contemplated saying that he wanted to read for awhile, but given the material, he had a feeling that Gregor might just suggest skipping straight from reading to doing. "I'm sorry, Gregor, but I'm getting sleepy," he said, yawning again. "I'd like to go . . ." At the last minute he converted his phrase away from 'go to bed. ". . . to get some rest."

"Of course," Gregor said. "I will bring you your breakfast in the morning. After Gregor left the room, Daniel looked at the door for a few minutes. Gregor was going to keep him company. When on earth was he going to be able to bathe?

He lay down carefully on the bed and started to read one of the new books Gregor had brought in. He wasn't really in the mood for homoeroticism at the moment. With Gregor gone, some of the adrenaline went out of him and he discovered that he really was very sleepy. He managed a chapter or two before nodding off.

The sun woke him as always, and when he got up, he was very relieved to find that he was alone. His back was beginning to itch maddeningly, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Scratching was not on the list of options. He picked up a book and started reading. Maybe today he wouldn't get the unparalleled joy of spending four hours or so staring at a wall in the library downstairs.

About an hour after Daniel got up, Gregor came in and stared at him in consternation. "You should sleep more. You're healing."

Daniel shrugged. "I'm fine. Got any toast over there?"

"Of course." Daniel walked over to the table and sat down to eat, trying to ignore the way Gregor hovered. He'd brought the book he was reading to the table with him, grateful for the freedom to read as he ate and hoping that it would keep Gregor from talking to him.

It succeeded, or at least Gregor remained silent. In fact he wasn't as open as he had been the previous day, which relieved Daniel. It couldn't last, he was afraid.

What he was going to do, he didn't know.

* * *

If Borodin's information hadn't proven to be the one key break in the investigation, it had at least given them a direction to look in. Able to focus their efforts a little more tightly, the people doing the paper chase were able to discard many locations that didn't match the description. Jack just hoped they were right to narrow it that tightly. 

No further communications had come from the kidnappers even though several days had passed, but Jack doubted they'd discard so valuable a hostage without a compelling reason. Their job was to make sure they never got that compelling reason until it was too late to take action.

There was little he and the others could do, though, and the waiting game was hard to play.

* * *

Daniel awoke slowly. It must be another cloudy day if the sun hadn't brought him awake with its early rays. Then a hand touched his hair softly, and, with a startled oath, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Eyes wide, he stared at Gregor, who was smiling at him, an odd look of anticipation in his expression. 

Without speaking, he got up and crossed to the water closet. Very briefly he considered simply not leaving again, but that wasn't an answer. It would gain him nothing. He walked out and washed his hands, trying not to look at Gregor.

"Let's get your bandages changed," Gregor said.

Daniel nodded and stood still while the other man first unwound the cotton bands, cleaned and medicated the injuries, then finally wound new bandages around him. Daniel wasn't sure if he was growing paranoid or if Gregor was being unusually subtle, but the entire process made him extremely uncomfortable. He was very glad when it was finished. He moved away rapidly and pulled his shirt on. He took one of the books from the table and dragged one of the chairs over under the window. The sun was actually shining very brightly. He opened the window and sat down to read in the bright sunlight.

Gregor sat down at the table and began to read himself. Daniel wished he'd go away. Whatever Metzov might think, solitude beat being alone with a man he didn't know, didn't trust, and who had openly acknowledged a physical interest in him that . . . he hadn't done anything. Daniel shook his head. He hadn't tried to force anything. Stroking his hair while he slept wasn't anything. Not really.

His back itched and he really didn't want to scratch it, but the temptation was almost overwhelming. He tried to focus on his book to keep his mind off the itch, but it really wasn't working.

"You seem very distracted this morning, Daniel," Gregor said.

Daniel shrugged, then grimaced. "My back itches, and somehow scratching it sounds like a really bad idea."

"It would be," Gregor said. "Perhaps a game of chess would give you something else to think about."

Daniel agreed and stood up. Gregor was there instantly to move the chair over to the table. Daniel followed him, a bit startled by the attention. Once Gregor had the chair placed to his satisfaction, Daniel tilted it slightly and then sat down with great care to avoid hurting his back. Gregor ceded him white and Daniel started the game.

It took a great deal of attention to keep the balance between going just easy enough on his opponent not to make it obvious that he wasn't playing his best. On the other hand, he wasn't really up to playing his best. Between the itching of his back and the presence of Gregor, and the knowledge that downstairs somewhere one or both of the Metzovs were planning the next step in their campaign to get him to work for them, he was a little distracted.

The game succeeded where the book hadn't in distracting him. He focused on the choices, predicting the other man's next move. It was an interesting study in character, chess. One could get a feel for how another person thought based on the choices he made. Gregor was actually reasonably good at the game, just not very creative and not very experienced. Given enough time and practice, he might even prove a skilled player, if he could learn to think outside the box more.

Near noon, Gregor left to get them lunch. Curious, Daniel looked at the book the other man had been reading. It seemed to be a serious, romantic novel about a gay couple living in rural Poland and the trials and tribulations thereof. Daniel pushed it away before Gregor could catch him looking at it. Not that he might not have read it under normal circumstances, but he was wary of anything that might give Gregor the wrong idea.

Running footsteps on the spiral stairs made Daniel sit up straight, then stand up as the door flung open. "I heard . . ." Gregor was panting. He paused. "I heard . . . they want to kill you! You have to come with me! I'll get you out of here!"

Daniel stared at him in disbelief. He certainly looked panicked enough, but why would they suddenly have decided to kill him?

"Daniel!" Gregor hissed. "Hurry. We must be down these stairs before they come!"

Unsure whether he believed the other man, but game for anything that got him out of this room and that much closer to escape, Daniel nodded and followed after him. He hoped they weren't going for any long walks in the woods. His feet were bare, and his arms would get pretty cold.

"Where are we going?" he hissed as Gregor took him down the stairs. The narrow room was deserted.

"The garage," Gregor replied. He opened the door and peered out. "Come quickly."

Daniel ran down the steps after him, listening with all his might but keeping a close eye on Gregor's back. He wanted to be able to stop when he did. They did stop, just at the top of the staircase that led down to the ground floor. Gregor's arm whipped back to hold Daniel back. Without speaking, Gregor opened the door to the second floor and pushed Daniel through. When it was shut, he said, "They were coming."

"I guessed," Daniel said through gritted teeth. The shove had hurt intensely. Gregor grabbed his wrist to drag him along, and he tried unsuccessfully to get free. Daniel heard footsteps ahead and wondered what was really happening. Were they going to try and kill him? Or was this something . . .

Rescue? Was Gregor tricking him into eluding his own rescue?

Gregor yanked a door open and shoved Daniel inside, pulling it shut behind them. Daniel hit the back wall of the closet they were in and let out a muffled shriek of pain. "I'm sorry for being so rough," Gregor said. "It is necessary to keep you safe."

"Why?" Daniel gasped, turning around. "Why would they want to kill me?"

In that instant he saw the truth in Gregor's eyes. He'd lied, for whatever reasons of his own, he'd lied. Before Daniel could act on it, however, Gregor grabbed his shoulders and pressed him against the wall behind him.

"Keep quiet!" he hissed. "Or I will kill you myself." He shifted his grip to Daniel's throat.

"Let go!" Daniel choked.

The door opened behind Gregor and Daniel saw a masked figure in black combat gear behind him. "Let him go," said a hard voice in badly accented Russian.

"I will kill him," Gregor said, and his grip tightened. Daniel tried to shrink without much success.

"If you kill him, I'll kill you." The voice was implacable. Daniel saw the shift in Gregor's eyes from murder to self preservation and he let go, stepping away. Instantly the man in the doorway had him slammed face first against a wall, frisking him quickly but thoroughly, and finding weapons Daniel hadn't even suspected existed.

Two more of the black-clad figures came into the closet and helped Daniel keep his feet. Without their support, he would have sagged to his knees. "Thanks, guys," Daniel muttered. They took him back to the stairs and down to a waiting van. With their help he climbed up into it and sank down on the seat, leaning well forward to avoid pressure on his back.

He was exhausted. One of the two guys climbed up beside him and pulled off his face mask. Daniel looked up to see who it was and blinked in utter astonishment. "Colonel Makepeace?!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you, too, Dr. Jackson," Makepeace said, his face crinkling with wry amusement. "But my former rank is no longer relevant."

"Where's Jack?" Daniel asked, looking around the van. "How did you get out of prison?"

"O'Neill is about thirty miles due east of here," Makepeace said.

"He didn't come on the rescue?"

Makepeace's brows drew together and he said, "Dr. Jackson . . ."

Realization struck like a sharp blow between the eyes. Daniel closed his eyes and let his head drop into his hands between his knees. "Right. So, I'm a prisoner again."

"I'd prefer to say . . ." Makepeace shook his head and said, "Hell, call a spade a spade. You're a prisoner again."

"This really hasn't been my year," Daniel groaned miserably. He'd been grabbed and dragged halfway across a continent by an unas, one of his closest friends had been killed after being Goa'ulded, his entire team had spent weeks working at manual labor with their memories erased. Jack had been a complete puzzle the last few months, varying between friendliness and near-hostility.

The look Makepeace gave him was full of sympathy. "I'd like to offer my sympathy on the death of Robert Rothman, by the way."

Daniel grimaced. "Thanks." People got into the front seat of the van and they pulled out of the garage. As they drove out into the sunlight, he looked around. "This beats my first trip along this road. There weren't any windows in that van, and my hands aren't tied."

Makepeace shrugged and gave him a grin. "You're a smart man, Daniel. You're not about to start a fight in the back of a moving vehicle against this many people."

"Not to mention the vehicles moving in front of and behind us," Daniel agreed dryly.

"Or the fact that you're injured."

Daniel nodded. "I don't suppose you have any aspirin on you?"

Makepeace bent down and slid an ice chest out from between his feet. Opening it he pulled out a Coke which he handed to Daniel. Then he put the ice chest away. "Sullivan?"

The man in the front passenger seat tossed back a rattling bottle. "Naproxen," Makepeace said, handing a couple of little blue pills to Daniel. "Anti-inflammatory."

Daniel washed them down with the Coke then closed his eyes. "So what does the NID . . . I presume you're with the NID still?" Makepeace just smiled and didn't say anything. "What do you folks want with me?"

"It's not really my place to say. You'll be meeting the director soon enough, and he can tell you everything you need to know."

"Thrilling," Daniel said.

"We're going to a small airfield near here and you'll be seen by a doctor before we board the plane."

"A doctor." Daniel smiled. "That will make a nice change from Mr. Creepy Hands back there."

"What do you mean?" Makepeace asked.

"Nothing," Daniel said, shuddering. "I'm just glad to be away from him. So where is the plane going?"

"Stateside," Makepeace said. "That's all you need to know."

"Grrreat." Daniel sighed. "What exciting treatment is in store for me from you folks?"

"Nothing like what happened to you here," Makepeace replied. "I wouldn't go along with that. We have nothing but respect for you as a civilian consultant."

"I'm glad to hear it." Assuming it could be believed. Makepeace clearly wasn't in charge, and as people like the Tollans and the Nox kept emphasizing, promises made by those not in charge aren't of much use. Daniel looked out the window and watched the scenery go by. Trees, mostly, till they reached the airfield.

They pulled up beside a building and stopped, then Makepeace got out. Daniel tried to get out on his own, but he couldn't manage it, so he let the older man help him down. The asphalt was cold under his stocking feet. Taking off and running would gain him nothing but a sore back, sore feet and a lot of annoyed companions.

Makepeace led him into the office space attached to the hangar. A small Asian woman was waiting, and beckoned them into one of the larger offices. There followed a brisk and utterly impersonal physical exam. When she was done, she said, "The whip cuts are healing well, though a couple of them were opened up by some kind of trauma in the recent past." She was glaring at Makepeace as if she thought he was responsible.

"One of the guys holding him tried to hide him from us," the former marine colonel said.

"Well, he's definitely healthy enough to travel, but he needs a lot of rest, a lot of fluids, and I'd say a few ice packs on his back wouldn't go amiss."

"Thank you, doctor," Makepeace said. "I'll see that he gets those things."

"Would you like some morphine, Dr. Jackson?" she asked. "Or codeine?"

"No," Daniel replied, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

Her lips thinned. "Given what I've been told regarding your propensity for saying you're fine in the face of anything short of a severed limb, I'll repeat the question. Morphine? Codeine? Some other analgesic?"

Daniel shrugged and tried not to wince at the ill-considered movement. An expressive eyebrow rose as she caught the movement and his reaction to it. "Makepeace gave me some naproxen already, so I don't know what I can take."

She shook her head. "Don't worry, I'll give you something that will work with that." She rummaged in her case for a few moments and came out with two bottles. Shaking a pill out of each, she held out both to him. "Analgesic and antibiotic." He gave way reluctantly, and took the little tablets, swallowing them with some bottled water she gave him. She then handed both bottles to Makepeace and added, "He'll need one of the antibiotic every six hours and one of the analgesic every twelve." She gave Daniel a long look. "And he needs to keep taking them until the doctor at home base tells him to stop."

Daniel grimaced sourly, but didn't object. There wasn't much of a point, really. Makepeace pocketed the bottles and said, "Well, Jackson, we've got a plane to catch."

"Thrilling." Daniel pulled on his shirt over the new bandages. "So, what do you plan to do about Jack and the others who are still out there looking for me?"

Makepeace moved as if he wanted to put a hand on Daniel's back or his arm, but, apparently thinking better of it, he dropped his hand without touching him. "Come along," he said, gesturing toward the door. Daniel walked ahead of him and once they were heading toward the plane, he answered Daniel's question. "What's done about O'Neill and the others is not your concern Daniel, nor is it mine."

"Based on what?" Daniel demanded.

"Our positions in the organization."

"I have no position in this organization," Daniel said. "I don't even know for certain what this organization is."

"We can trust that the other search will be dealt with appropriately, Jackson," Makepeace said. "We need to focus on what's being asked of us."

"Asked." Daniel shook his head. "Asked implies the option to refuse. Somehow I don't feel like I'm being asked anything." He glanced around at the armed guards, most of whom were still wearing their masks and full combat gear. Running would gain him nothing but more bruises.

"No, I suppose not," Makepeace said with a shrug. "Orders then. Focus on your orders."

Daniel gave Makepeace a sidelong look. "You know how good I am at following orders, Robert."

The other man rolled his eyes. "I do." They headed over toward a tiny plane.

"That's a small plane for crossing the Atlantic," Daniel observed.

"So it is," Makepeace said. "In you go."

Daniel walked into the plane, sat down and waited anxiously. It was a little twelve-seater twin engine. The pilot was already in his seat with another fellow next to him. Makepeace followed him on, and four other guys, who shed their combat gear while the pilot taxied to the end of the runway.

They were no one he recognized, and they just settled themselves around the plane, keeping the balance even.

"Seatbelt, Daniel," Makepeace said.

Daniel glanced sourly over at the former marine colonel, then leaned back long enough to put his belt on. He couldn't lean back against the seat without causing himself pain, so he leaned forward again and buried his head in his hands. He felt the plane speed up, and the plane left the ground.

What the hell was he going to do now?


	10. Scooped!

**Chapter 10 -- Scooped!**

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Jack asked Lt. Antonov. They'd been sitting for hours watching the complex that Russian intelligence had identified as Metzov's illegal purchase, but there had been no movement to be seen inside the buildings nor on the grounds.

"It is the only one that can be connected to him," Antonov said. His English was faultless, better than Jack's in fact.

"Well, it's full dark. Let's move in."

They started forward at Jack's signal. Teal'c moved in rapidly, followed by the remainder of SG-1, Sumner and Antonov. Feretti's team was on the other side of the building. Jack had given them all their instructions earlier in the day. He expected this raid to go without a hitch, but he had a feeling that the hitch was already in place.

It was eerily silent as they approached. When they reached the door, Teal'c stopped dead. He gestured Jack forward and pointed. The door was ajar, which set off alarms in Jack's head.

His earbud chirped. "Colonel," Feretti said in hushed tones, "the door back here isn't latched."

"Here too," Jack said. "Go on, but be careful."

Teal'c was gazing intently at him and he looked back to make sure the others had heard him, then nodded. They started forward, moving with caution through the darkened halls. There was an odor, a familiar stench reaching his nostrils as they went deeper into the house. Copper and urine and other less than appealing aromas. His gut began to clench. The smells of death, and bloody death at that. Where the hell was Daniel?

Teal'c stepped through into a lighted room and paused briefly, as if startled. Then he kept going and Jack saw what he had seen. Three men had played cards here. The cards lay dropped haphazardly on the table, there were piles of money, cans of beer, bowls of chips, and all of it was spattered with blood. The chairs were overturned, and three guns had been set on the table, one at each place, as if to identify the owners. Three men lay on their backs, hands at their sides, clearly dead.

"This is creepy," Carter said as she looked around. Sumner was reporting their find to the other team.

"Ya think?" Jack muttered. "Let's keep going. We've got to find Daniel."

They moved on into another hallway, looking for signs of life. They hadn't gotten very far before Feretti called them. "Colonel, we've found some more bodies, all neatly laid out here too. It's the kitchen. Two men and a woman."

"Any weapons?"

"Yes sir. Two AK-47s and a Glock."

Jack nodded. "Keep going, but don't take any risks." They had to be careful, stay wary, but Jack was sure that the people who had done this were long gone. The only question that remained in his mind was what had happened to Daniel. Had they taken him? Had he escaped to hide in the woods? Or was his body growing cold somewhere else in the house . . .

Returning his thoughts resolutely to the here and now, Jack followed Teal'c and kept his eyes and ears open for movement. In the library there was another grouping of bodies. Jack recognized one of them. Here, then, was Metzov's daughter. Four men of varying ages lay with her, all neatly laid out as before. It was distinctly bizarre. Lizaveta Metzov had two black boxes above her head. One of the men had a neatly coiled whip placed on his chest. There were three AK-47s on one of the library tables, and other ordnance, all precisely positioned. There was also a note.

Jack walked forward slowly and leaned down to look at it, not touching anything. This was one hell of a big crime scene from the looks of things. He was just glad it wasn't his job to process it. His job was just to find Daniel.

The note was written in English, big block capitals, the kind that give handwriting analysts fits because there's not much they can do with them.

_Colonel O'Neill,_

_We have removed Dr. Jackson from the care of these bumbling morons to a place of safety where his wounds will be tended by a physician and where he will receive excellent care. _

_Rest assured, he will not be harmed in any way. We have a great deal of respect for the good doctor._

_It may be some time before you hear from him again, but don't worry too much. We won't let anything happen to him._

_We left all his captors dead, but feel free to shoot the bodies if it will make you feel better._

_Your Despised Friends_

"Damnit!" Jack growled.

"What is it, sir?" Carter asked.

"According to this, someone came in, killed all the bastards holding Daniel and took Daniel away with them."

"He's been kidnapped from his kidnappers?" she exclaimed.

"So it appears."

"Colonel, we found five more bodies, sir," Feretti reported. "This is getting weird."

"Acknowledged," Jack said. "We've found indications that whoever did this took Daniel with them. Keep on your guard, but we need to cover this place top to bottom and make sure there's no one left."

"Yes sir."

Jack turned back to his team and Antonov said, "I must telephone my superiors. This . . . this is not what we were expecting."

"Not hardly," Jack said. "I think you'd better stay with the group, though. We don't want to risk someone still being here."

The young Russian soldier nodded and they headed out. A search of the entire house revealed that Daniel was not within, living or dead. They did locate the rooms where Daniel was held and where he was tortured. Once they had made certain that there were no living people in the building and that Daniel was most definitely not on the premises, both Jack and Antonov reported to their superiors.

"We found where Daniel was being kept, sir," Jack said once he had Hammond on the phone. "But he's gone."

"Gone?" Hammond exclaimed. "Gone where?"

"That's the trouble, sir, we don't know. Someone came, killed all the bad guys and left a note saying that they took Daniel someplace safe, but that we may not hear from him for awhile."

"You must be joking. Who on earth would have done such a thing?"

"Wish I was, sir. Whoever did it has quite a sense of humor, and a morbid tendency towards ritual."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the note is addressed to me directly, and they suggested that I should shoot the bodies if it would make me feel better. And they left all the bodies lying straight, arms at their sides, with their weapons carefully placed. The guy who presumably whipped Daniel had a whip coiled on his chest."

Hammond was silent for several seconds. "I've got to report this up the chain of command. I'll get back to you."

Jack nodded and hung up the phone, then he turned to the others. Teal'c looked serious, and Carter just looked confused. Sumner was a few feet off, talking to Meyers, and Antonov was still making his report.

"So, what do you think?" Jack asked.

"I think they probably left in cars of some kind, so we're not going to be able to follow them real easily," Carter said.

"I think they were Americans and soldiers," Teal'c said. "There is a sense of . . ." He paused and appeared to be searching for a word. "A sense of vendetta about all of this."

"It's an awful lot of effort, sir," Carter said, looking around uncomfortably. They'd returned to the library for the calls. "They killed eighteen people, moved them into position, put their things into position, then carefully left the doors so that they were just open enough to be open, but not so that we could tell that they weren't closed from a distance."

"What I wish to know is how much of this DanielJackson witnessed," Teal'c said. "I believe it would disturb him."

Carter nodded fervently. "Daniel would freak at something like this."

"And then he'd start babbling, explaining it so he could avoid thinking too hard about it," Jack said. "We can't know the answer to that question till we find him."

"And we can't find him here," Sumner said, coming up to them suddenly, trailed by an uneasy looking Meyers. "Where are we going now?"

"Now we're waiting for orders from Hammond," Jack said.

Sumner looked ready to explode. Jack knew the feeling. He couldn't help wondering if they'd have gotten Daniel back if they'd found out about this place a little earlier in the day.

After nearly forty minutes, two groups arrived. Jack watched with amused horror as the CIA started trying to work with the Russian intelligence agency to investigate the crime scene.

His phone rang, and half the people in the room reached around towards their hips. Jack answered it and said, "O'Neill."

"This is Hammond. I'm ordering you all home."

"Sir!"

"You are not trained in investigation, Jack, and neither is anyone else on your teams. We're sending along someone to monitor things. We need you back here to do what you are trained for."

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes sir. Is transport already arranged?"

"It is. I'll see you in about ten hours."

Jack acknowledged the order and hung up. "We're going back stateside," he said.

"But, sir –" Carter started.

"Those are our orders, major," Jack said flatly. Carter winced at his tone, but she stopped protesting. "Let's go home," he said, and saw the distress and anger in nearly every face that they were leaving the job undone. The general was right, not one of them had the knowledge or skills to be of use in this situation. They'd barely had the right abilities for the mission they'd just flubbed.

It was time to let the professionals do what they knew how to do, but Jack wasn't going to relax and not worry about it. He was going to ride Hammond and anyone else he could find. They weren't just going to accept this MIA thing with Daniel.

He was waiting. He knew they would come for him. Jack would not allow him to be wrong.

* * *

Tired, sore from the rough handling at midday, a little light-headed from the pain meds, Daniel wanted to sleep, but the one time he dropped off, he leaned back against the seat and woke himself up. He looked around at the other people on the plane, and though two of them were looking at him, they turned away quickly, back to whatever they were doing. So far it had been a fairly silent flight. None of the others had initiated any conversation with him, and he wasn't up to trying to talk to them.

Hours had passed, and Daniel wondered where they were. He very much doubted they were going to try and fly this little plane all the way to the states, so it was no surprise to him when they started banking for a landing. He looked out the window at the airport. This wasn't a little airfield out in the middle of nowhere. This was a serious airport. Maybe he'd get lucky and be able to let someone know that he needed help.

Even if he only managed to make a commotion, if he made himself stand out, searchers might be able to locate him by that alone.

They landed at some distance from the large terminals. Daniel couldn't see anyone but the ground crew nearby. He watched out the window as they taxied. From the signs he could see, he guessed they were probably in either France, Switzerland or Belgium. They slowed to a stop beside a much larger plane that was clearly waiting for them. The stairs were pushed up to the door, and there were people at the base of them, waiting.

Their plane came to a stop and Daniel marshaled himself. If he was going to make a noticeable fuss, now was the time. He was so tired, though, and so achy even with the pain pills that the idea wasn't very appealing. When the steps were lowered, Daniel looked over at Makepeace, who nodded. "Come on, Jackson," he said as he stood up himself. Two of the other men were already going down the steps. The other two were waiting for him, so Daniel got himself out of the seatbelt and used the seat in front of him to pull himself up.

He walked wearily down the steps to the tarmac. He was considering how best to make his fuss so that at least the ground crew would notice and remember him when one of them nodded at him. "Hello, Dr. Jackson," he said and Daniel blinked at him. "Meadows?" he said after a moment.

"Yes sir," Meadows said, and grinned at one of his fellows. "I told you he'd remember me. That's ten bucks."

Daniel smiled weakly. The ground crew was part of this organization, clearly. Airman Meadows had been with the SGC until shortly after the sting operation that had netted Makepeace, in the support staff. He'd been transferred a few weeks later. Apparently he had been part of that rogue operation, but Daniel hadn't known it. Between the five men from his plane, the four or five ground crew and the four guys from the plane they were getting onto . . . he looked across at the distant terminal. There was no way he was going to get anyone's attention under these circumstances.

He got onto the plane with reluctance and stared in dismay at the chairs. None of them looked remotely comfortable for a man who couldn't lean back.

With a sympathetic look, Makepeace took him gently by the arm and led him to a door. Unlatching it, he opened it and said, "You might want to get some sleep."

Inside this compartment there was a bed. Upon seeing it, all thought of escape or troublemaking left him, lost to the simple desire for rest. He walked inside and lowered himself gently to the mattress, face down, barely noticing the door shutting behind him. Within moments, he was asleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he woke up with a rumble in his gut. He rolled gingerly onto his side and pushed himself up to a sitting position. The windows in this space were closed. He reached out stiffly and opened one. They seemed to be flying into the sunset. He knew he'd been traveling for hours, yet there was still sunlight, barely, touching the ocean below. Rising, he walked to the door and tried to open it.

To his surprise, it didn't budge. He knocked on it, feeling foolish to be knocking from inside the room. "Hey! What's going on?"

After a moment the door opened and Makepeace looked over his shoulder. "Who locked this?" he asked. There was no reply. "What do you need, Jackson?"

"Food," Daniel said, squinting. "Where did I leave my glasses?"

"I don't know, but I'll get you a sandwich."

Daniel turned around and found his glasses, then walked out into the main cabin of the plane. Three of the five men who'd accompanied him on the first plane were sitting around a table playing cards. Two of them were about the same age as Makepeace, and cut of the same cloth. One had dark hair cut very close to his head, and one had nearly no hair. What hair he did have was gray. The third was younger, probably mid-thirties.

Daniel walked over to where there was a chair beside a window and sat down, carefully sitting forward. "So, where are we heading?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Jackson," said a dark haired man. "We'll be landing in about six hours, and that's all you need to know."

Daniel blinked at the man. "Oddly enough, that's not all I want to know." The man shrugged and then stretched. "So, do I get to know anybody's name?"

"This operation is on a strictly need to know basis," the man said.

"Well . . . I _need_ to know your names," Daniel said reasonably.

"No, you don't," the other man said. The younger man had an odd sort of grin on his face and the gray haired man rolled his eyes.

Daniel nodded slowly. "I suppose not. I could just call you Stooge Number One, Stooge Number Two and Stooge Number Three. Not sure how well you'd like it, though."

"My name is Kevin," the young man said with a grin. "That's Mike, and that's Stuart. You could also call us Larry, Moe and Curly, but I'll let you assign those names."

"Probably wise," Mike said with a straight face. Stuart said nothing, just glowered at Kevin.

Makepeace walked over to Daniel and handed him a freshly unwrapped ham sandwich on a plastic plate and a Coke. "I told you he could talk monkeys out of trees, Stu."

Stu scowled. "That's why I locked the door," he muttered.

"What's he going to do?" Makepeace asked. "Convince one of us to help him escape over the Atlantic? It's one heck of a long swim."

Not sure whether to be amused or alarmed by this estimate of his persuasive capacity, Daniel ate in silence. Makepeace rejoined the game, but the conversation around the table seemed stilted, as if his presence was inhibiting them. He finished his sandwich and was still drinking the soda when Makepeace stood up again. He walked over and pulled out one of the pill bottles.

"Antibiotics. It's time for another one."

Resignedly, Daniel took the pill and downed it. He did not want his back to get infected. With the food settling his stomach, he began to grow sleepy again, but he didn't want to go to sleep. He wanted to get a look at where they were landing through the windows. In order to make good his escape, he needed an idea of where he was in the country.

He wondered how long they'd been in the air. Seven hours to go. A few minutes later, he blinked at the window and realized that he'd fallen asleep sitting up. He straightened more and tried to focus on something, anything that would keep him awake. It happened again and took a firmer hold of himself. He had to stay awake.

Abruptly he found Makepeace standing next to him. "Get up, Jackson."

"The name is Daniel."

"Fine, get up, Daniel. You're falling asleep where you sit."

"So I should get up?" Daniel allowed Makepeace to help him to his feet and sighed as the other man walked him to the bedroom. "This doesn't make any sense. Why do you wake up someone who's sleeping so they can go to sleep?"

"Even for you that's . . ." Makepeace paused. "Do you have a fever?" He sat Daniel down and felt his forehead. "Damn, I think you do."

"Is it okay if I lie down now?" Daniel asked, mustering a bit of sarcasm.

"Go ahead."

Daniel barely heard the response as he lay down face first. The next time he awoke, he pushed himself upright, blinking, not immediately certain where he was.

"You might as well stay lying down, Jackson," said a voice he didn't immediately recognize. Blinking, he turned and saw a dark haired man sitting by the window across from him. Stu, his memory supplied him after a moment.

"Why's that?"

"Because you can't look out the window, and we're almost there."

Daniel stared at him for a moment. "I see," he said. He felt wretched. He had a headache, his face felt very warm, and he had to . . . "I need the bathroom."

"Nice try, Jackson," Stu said condescendingly. "Just lie back down and –"

"According to you I've been asleep for nearly seven hours, and before that I was asleep for a good two to four hours. I haven't urinated in at least nine hours by that count. I _need_ the bathroom."

Stu looked disgruntled at that, but it got him moving. He raised a radio to his lips. "Hey, Robert, your friend in here needs the head."

"Thank you," Daniel said. A moment later, Makepeace came through the door. Daniel got up and went with him. When they were out of the room, he said, "What's the matter with him?"

"Stu?" Daniel nodded and Makepeace shrugged. "He's just in a bad mood." He snorted. "He's like O'Neill, doesn't think much of scientists."

Daniel glanced back over his shoulder, not certain that Jack would appreciate the comparison. The toilet, naturally enough, had no windows. He half expected to be locked in by Stu so that he couldn't sweet talk anyone into letting him see out a window, but the door opened without problem. Makepeace was standing right there, though, and all the windows had their covers down.

"You're going to want to sit down, Jackson," Makepeace said. "We're landing shortly." Daniel nodded and headed over towards a chair by a window. "Nope, sorry, over here would be better."

Sourly, Daniel walked over to the chair Makepeace indicated and sat down. "This is pretty stupid, you know," he said.

"Orders," Makepeace replied shortly.

"That is such an easy excuse," Daniel commented. "Where have I heard that before? 'I was just following orders. . .' Oh, yeah, the Nuremburg trials. Believe it led to a fair number of executions."

Makepeace glowered at him silently for a few moments. "Would you prefer we'd left you with the bitch?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head vehemently. "No! No, I'm glad not to be there anymore. But, theoretically, Jack would have been there in a few hours."

"They would have killed you."

"They didn't kill me when you came in."

Makepeace shrugged. "We have fewer restrictions than O'Neill, being outside the standard military hierarchy."

Daniel blinked as he took in the implications of this. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's not your problem, Jackson," Stu said, coming out of the bedroom. "I thought we'd agreed to keep him in there."

"What difference does it make if he's in there or out here?" Makepeace asked reasonably. "And all I recall is you saying that it would be a good thing if he slept all the way till we landed."

Stu shrugged and sat down. These chairs were grouped in a semi-circle, so now Daniel had a man on either side of him, neatly penning him in. He was sitting forward, not very comfortably, so he was a little too close to both his companions. He tried to slide back a little, but the seat wasn't very deep. He didn't have far to go before his back hit the chair's back and he bit his lip.

Makepeace must have noticed his expression because he hitched up his hip and pulled out the bottles of pills. The door at the forward end of the compartment opened and Kevin walked in. "Hey, could you grab a soda out of the fridge?"

Kevin nodded and opened the fridge under the bar, pulling out a Coke. He walked over and handed it to Makepeace who was already holding out a pair of pills to Daniel. "I really don't want the analgesic," Daniel said.

"Don't be an ass," Makepeace replied. "There's no reason for you to be in pain."

"I was fine with the naproxen."

"The doctor ordered them, you need to take them."

"Why are you arguing with him, Robert?" Stu asked, sitting forward. "Give me those pills. Keven, put your hands on his shoulders."

Neither man moved, but Daniel felt his stomach knot up. They were suddenly way too close. "We're not going that route, Stu," Makepeace said. He turned to Daniel and held out the pills. "Take your medicine." Daniel felt conflicting impulses. One part of him wanted to say no in the face of the obvious intimidation tactics. On the other hand, antagonizing them was stupid. Makepeace shook his head. "Come on, you know Fraiser would make you take it anyway."

Daniel slumped and held out his hand. He washed the pills down with the Coke and sat there, the center of attention and not thrilled with it. "So," he said, "what happens when we land?"

"You do as you're told," Stu said.

"Lighten up," Kevin said. "Give him a break."

"When we land, this plane will taxi inside a hangar," Makepeace said. "A hangar indirectly owned by a member of our organization, so don't think you can get any help there." Daniel nodded tightly. "We will then transfer you to a van where you will ride with me and Stu in the back."

"No windows?" Daniel asked.

"I'm afraid not."

"Figures."

"When we arrive at our base, the driver will take us inside a garage, and after that I'm not altogether sure what happens."

"Did you ask?"

"No," Makepeace said, and his mouth twitched a bit. "I don't need to know."

Daniel nodded, more than a little alarmed that the one familiar person in the room didn't seem to know or care what was going to happen to him. "So, do they give you guys something in basic that destroys your curiosity? Or just your conscience?"

Stu let out an irritated sound, got up and walked away. "Jackson, no one's going to hurt you," Makepeace said. "And I'm on the team that's supposed to keep you safe."

Annoyed that Makepeace had seen to the heart of his reaction, Daniel took another drink of the soda. "Sounds thrilling," he said. "So, what earned you babysitting duty?"

"I volunteered," Makepeace said with a grin. "When I heard you'd got yourself into trouble again, I knew someone had to pull your fat out of the fire."

"I didn't do anything," Daniel protested.

"No, you didn't." Makepeace shrugged an apology. "Still, with that second video tape it was abundantly clear that someone had to get you out of there and fast. You're too stubborn for your own good, sometimes."

"Would you have done what they told you?" Daniel demanded.

Makepeace made a face and said, "I'm a marine."

"And that makes you better than an archeologist?" Daniel put the soda down in a little drink holder in the arm of the chair.

"No," Makepeace shook his head and Kevin had an oddly stuffed look on his face as he sat down in the chair Stuart had vacated. "It means I have different rules."

Crossing his arms, Daniel looked sourly at him. "So archeologists are just supposed to give in?"

Makepeace rolled his eyes. "No, Jackson, you're supposed to stay alive to be rescued. Hasn't O'Neill ever explained that to you?" Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but Makepeace forestalled him. "No, I know he has. More than once probably."

"Those people were lunatics, I wasn't giving them anything that might help them figure out how to use Goa'uld technology."

"Laudable, but –"

"Hey, Robert," Kevin said softly, "let's not argue." Makepeace's eyes widened, as if in realization, and he stopped talking, leaning back in his chair. Kevin turned to Daniel and said, "Dr. Jackson, we're just glad you're safe and out of the hands of those sadistic idiots."

"Yeah, I'm glad to be out the hands of those sadistic idiots, too, but I don't feel particularly safe."

Kevin smiled. "I can understand that, but you don't have to worry. You are safe with us. Safer than you have been for awhile, I'd wager."

The plane began its descent, and Daniel wanted to get up and open a window. He wanted to see where they were. He clenched his fists under his arms, which were still crossed tightly over his chest. They made their way through the traffic patterns both in the air and on the ground, until finally they stopped. Makepeace and Kevin got up, and Daniel grimaced. Even if they weren't already in the hangar, he wasn't going to see anything outside beyond a runway that wouldn't tell him much. He stayed sitting down, his eyes closed with resignation.

Even Jack might have had trouble getting out of this, but then they wouldn't do this to Jack. If Jack had been caught the way Daniel had been, they'd have left him to his fate.

The door opened and Makepeace came over to him. "It's time."

"Right." Daniel got up and went down the stairs outside. More guys. More guns. One of those ubiquitous plain white vans that you pass a half dozen times on the freeway without thinking twice. They made for that and Daniel stepped up into the back of it at Makepeace's urging. There were seats on either side and Daniel sank down onto one of them feeling as if he'd come full circle. At least he wasn't tied up.


	11. The Blind

**Chapter 11 – The Blind**

Jack walked into the general's office ready to growl only to find that Hammond was speaking angrily into the phone. "This is not a minor matter, sir. Dr. Jackson is of vital importance to this command." He seemed to be listening for a moment, then said, "I know we're not trained for investigation, but if you put people on the search who don't have clearance to view all the material that might be relevant, you'll be handicapping them."

Jack glanced at Carter and Teal'c who had come in with him. Sumner and Meyers, though uninvited, had tagged along. Feretti's team were down in the showers still. Carter's face reflected the astonishment he knew he had to be exhibiting. Teal'c merely had one eyebrow raised, but Sumner looked livid.

"Yes, sir, I know it's your job to see to things of this nature, but –" Another pause while Hammond tapped the table, looking irritated. "Very well, we'll play it your way for now, but if I don't see results soon, I'm going higher." With that he hung up the phone and looked up at them all. "Please come in and shut the door."

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"That was the director of the CIA. Between them, the CIA, the FBI and the NID are supposed to be managing this investigation." Jack teeth ground at the mention of the NID. "Unfortunately, only a fraction of people in any of those bureaus has the correct clearance to know what we do here, and they haven't put those people on this investigation. It isn't important enough, Director Archer says."

"It isn't important enough?" Jack repeated. "I could go down there and explain to him just how very important it is."

"If we don't have any news in a week, I will –"

"A week!" exclaimed Carter.

"This is Daniel we're talking about!" Jack said. "Who knows what could happen in a week! People either adore Daniel or he annoys them so much that they want to beat him to death. We don't even know for sure who took him or why."

"Well, at the moment, the CIA is provisionally convinced that it has very little to do with the stargate program."

"Why else would someone seize DanielJackson?" asked Teal'c. "Is he important in some way that I am unaware of?"

"That would be the problem, Teal'c," Hammond said, his lips pursed unhappily. "I can't think of a reason. He doesn't have any enemies – on this planet – that I know of, he's not rich, he's not important politically . . . hell, he was gone for sixteen months and no one seemed to have noticed except the IRS."

"So what are we going to do?" Jack asked.

"There's nothing we can do," Hammond replied. "Our hands are tied. Legally, the US military can't take action inside the United States."

"Military intelligence?" Jack asked.

"That's the last thing we need," Sumner burst out. "As if the FBI, CIA and the NID aren't going to get in each other's way enough as it is!"

"Sir, there's got to be something we can do," Carter said plaintively.

"Not about this, I'm afraid. I'll keep you all posted. In the meantime, you had all better get back to work."

Jack headed down to his office and the petty administrative tasks that he had waiting for him. Annoying people doing stupid things that military regulations required they be punished for.

Daniel was still out there. And the general expected him to sit on his hands and wait.

* * *

The drive was long and uneventful. No one talked much, though Daniel tried several times to get a conversation going. Mike leaned his head against the side of the van, eyes closed, and Kevin seemed to be listening to some kind of music in his head. Stuart just ignored him. Makepeace responded to his questions minimally, but since Daniel was asking more about where they were going and what was going to happen, he finally said, "Just wait till we get there, Jackson. I know you're curious, but you have to wait."

Daniel finally gave up and just rested his head in his hands. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, they got somewhere. Daniel looked up and thought of two questions he hadn't asked yet. "What day is it?" he asked.

"The tenth of May," Makepeace said. Then he glanced at his wrist. "And it's five after eleven."

"Thanks." Daniel took in a deep breath. The van was moving slowly, but he didn't hear traffic sounds around them. "Are we there?"

"We are," Stuart said. "But you'll have to wait till we get inside to go to the bathroom."

Daniel blinked and then turned an irritated look on the other man. "Sure thing, pops," he said sarcastically.

Makepeace and Kevin both snorted, and Mike said, "I think you might want to avoid baiting this one, Stu. He's smarter than you are."

Stuart turned an astringent glare on Mike. "Then how is it that we were pulling _his_ fat out of the fire."

"Now, this time wasn't his fault, you have to admit that," Makepeace said.

Daniel turned to look at him, brows rising. "This time?" he repeated. "Are you suggesting that the other times _have _been my fault?"

"Well . . ."

Daniel's eyebrows rose still farther. "And just how much classified material are you going to discuss in front of these _uncleared_ individuals?" He paused, shaking his head. "Or no, I suppose you've probably spilled it all already."

"I haven't spilled anything," Makepeace said defensively. "They already knew it."

Keven nodded. "Oh yeah, I've been reading your reports since day one, Dr. Jackson. Very impressive."

Daniel favored him with a long, cool look, then turned back to Makepeace. "You know, they still execute people for treason," he said conversationally. Makepeace lips compressed and he looked away.

"They have to catch you first," Stuart said. "And I don't consider what we're doing to be treason. We are trying to safeguard this nation, this planet, against a highly aggressive, utterly immoral enemy."

Daniel rolled his eyes and shut his mouth. There was no point in arguing with fanatics. They knew what they believed, so telling them the truth only got you stoned. Or ignored. The van rolled to a stop and the rear doors opened. Kevin and Mike got out, then Daniel levered himself up and followed them. Kevin offered him a hand, and, despite a desire to ignore him and jump down on his own, Daniel decided that the dignity inherent in the refusal would be spoiled by the falling over and moaning in pain that would follow such a jolt to his back.

An older man with closely cropped white hair stood waiting. As soon as they were all on the floor, he began barking orders. "Makepeace, accompany Dr. Jackson to the infirmary. Parker, Little, Stevens and Moore, report for debriefing."

Daniel looked up at Makepeace who gestured towards a door. "So, is everybody here military?" he asked.

"Nearly."

"Ah. Goody. I so love the military mindset."

"You'll be okay, Jackson. Everyone here knows how important you are to the war effort."

"Right." Daniel sighed. That they thought him important didn't mean they wouldn't try to fit him into some kind of mold of their own.

The doctor was a man this time, and very brusque. "Strip," he said. "Makepeace, you can wait outside. I think we can handle one injured archeologist." The 'we' appeared to encompass a competent looking woman of about Jack's age. Makepeace handed over the two pill bottles and left.

Reluctantly, Daniel began removing his clothing. The pants were easy, but the shirt was a bit harder. They had to help him with it. When he was clad only in his boxers, they got him to sit on a table. "Okay," Daniel said. "Now that I'm wearing next to nothing, would you mind telling me your names? It is customary, I believe, for a patient to at least know his physician's name."

"I am Dr. Burney, this is Dr. Hill," said the male doctor.

From behind him, Dr. Hill said, "Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jackson. Celia wasn't kidding, Tom, this is a mess."

Burney walked around to join her and whistled. Daniel grimaced. "So, have you got a mirror? I still haven't seen it."

"I'm really not sure you want to," Burney said.

"Is it going to scar?" Daniel asked.

"That's hard to say, but there's a bit of an infection starting," Hill said. "We'll do our best to avoid it."

Burney came back around to Daniel's front and picked up a clipboard. "All right, Dr. Jackson, can you please tell us what happened? We need to have an idea so that we can be prepared for future repercussions."

"Or you could just arrange for me to be sent back to the SGC where Dr. Fraiser can take care of me," Daniel said.

Burney shook his head. "I am currently your physician, so I need to know what's happened to you."

"Good luck finding out," Daniel replied with a shrug. Then he blinked at the pain he'd caused himself.

Hill spoke from behind him. "By not telling us what's happened to you, you're only hindering our care. It's not wise."

"Well, it's my choice," he said with a tight grin. "And I choose not to tell you. I'll talk to my doctor and no one else. I don't know you, and I don't trust you. I would say that trust is a key point in any doctor patient relationship, wouldn't you?"

"Dr. Jackson . . ."

"Yes, Dr. Burney?"

"We have all of your medical records up to the point you went through the gate on that last mission. I just need to know what –"

"See, now there's a major problem with trust. I didn't authorize you to have my records, so what are you doing with them?"

"Dr. Jackson, you're only hurting yourself with this." Daniel looked away, irritated beyond words. He wanted to see Janet. "Get Makepeace in here, Megan," Burney said.

A moment later Makepeace walked in and said, "What are you doing, Daniel?" He sounded utterly exasperated.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Then why did they bring me in here?"

Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but Burney beat him to it. "He won't tell us what happened."

Makepeace sighed. "Do you remember that thing we talked about in the van?" Daniel looked up, puzzled. "Survival is your first job. Not telling your doctors what's wrong with you isn't going to gain you anything, and it could hurt you."

Daniel looked down at his hands and sighed, recognizing the truth in that. "There's a burn on my left thigh from an energy blast," he said carefully.

"Staff weapon?" Burney asked. Daniel pursed his lips.

"That's what Maybourne reported," Makepeace said. "We're still working to get the medical files from the Russians."

"Do you really trust Maybourne, though?"

"About as far as I can throw him, but he didn't have any reason to lie about this."

While they discussed Maybourne, Dr. Hill walked up with a blood pressure cuff. "I'm afraid this will probably hurt on those bruises."

"I'll live."

Burney cleared his throat. "Go on, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel returned his attention to him. "Well, the people, Metzov's people, tied me up and took me out to that house where I was found. I received no medical care for the burn after that, by the way. Lizaveta grabbed it at one point, but I don't think she did any damage." Burney was writing. "They manhandled me a fair amount, grabbing my arms." He looked down at the blood pressure cuff that encircled his arm. It was putting painful pressure on his bruises, but then she stopped pumping and began to release the pressure. "They made me kneel a lot to get tied up. Once, after I tried to escape, they put leg irons on me." He rolled his eyes back, thinking. "The first time I refused to work for them, Lizaveta had someone beat me with something wide and pretty heavy. Ten blows. They counted them aloud."

"Charming people," Burney said. "Then?"

"Then I spent two days listening to Beethoven and Bach, Rachmaninov, I sort of lost track. Classical music at any rate, turned up so loud that I've probably lost some of my hearing."

Burney nodded and made a note. "We'll arrange for some tests. Go on."

"Um . . ." He shook his head. "Right, the next time she had a go at me she used a taser. She shocked me four times and then stopped." Dr. Hill made a sympathetic noise as she stuck a thermometer in his ear.

"And you still refused to work for them?" Burney asked.

"By that time I wasn't giving them anything," Daniel replied.

Burney exchanged a glance with Makepeace, who shrugged. "Go on."

"If you saw the video, then you saw everything else."

"Who treated the whip cuts?"

Daniel grimaced. "That would be Gregor. Didn't like him much."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He was very careful, didn't hurt me. After that, they just tried to tempt me into it by using boredom against me."

"What did Gregor do?"

"Nothing of import," Daniel said. "He just treated my back. I'm not sure what he used, I couldn't see it."

"Well, it is infected," Dr. Hill said. "And you have a low grade fever."

"Is that all?" Burney asked.

"Pretty much," Daniel said, nodding.

Makepeace raised an eyebrow and seemed to be about to speak, but Burney was quicker. "How did you get those bruises on your neck?"

"Oh, right." Daniel reached up absently to touch his throat. "When he knew they were being attacked, Gregor tried to hide me, he claimed Metzov wanted to kill me. He dragged me down to a closet. When I realized what he was really up to, he threatened to kill me if I didn't stay quiet."

"So he tried to strangle you."

"Yes."

Burney started writing, but Makepeace shook his head. "I still don't understand . . . why was he hiding you in that closet?"

"He had been trying to get to the garage, but someone was on the stairs."

"Yes, but why . . . I mean, he was working with them. Why would you believe he was trying to get you away if Metzov wanted to kill you?"

"Does it really matter?" Daniel asked, acutely embarrassed by the answer to the question.

Realization dawned in Makepeace's eyes. "Oh. He was one of those."

"One of who?" Burney asked.

"Jackson seems to attract sociopaths."

Daniel stared at him in incredulous anger for a moment, then turned to Burney. "Do you treat him?" he asked, pointing at Makepeace.

"We treat everyone on base," Burney said.

"Do me a favor next time you examine him. Use really big needles."

Dr. Hill snorted, and Daniel gave Makepeace an innocent smile. The former marine was looking at Dr. Hill with some alarm.

Burney cleared his throat, drawing Daniel's attention back to the present. "Was there anything else?" he asked. "Did anything happen to you during your escape attempt, for example?"

"Oh." Daniel blinked. "That was right after the first video tape. I lost my footing on the stairs and took a tumble. Wrenched one of my ankles, but nothing more serious than that."

"All right." Burney put the clipboard down then, and they proceeded to give him a fairly thorough physical. Then they smeared a smelly antibiotic, analgesic salve on his back and bandaged him up again. Then Burney took him to a bathroom and helped him manage a sponge bath. When he was clean again, he said, "I don't really have any clothes. Mine were taken days ago."

"I know." Burney held out a stack of clothing. "These should fit. We took the sizes from your records."

Daniel blinked as Burney left the room. He pulled the clothes on, and not only did they fit, they were the kind of thing he usually wore off duty. This was creeping him out a little, though he was pleased to find that they had provided him with shoes.

He walked out of the bathroom and found Makepeace waiting. "Come on, Jackson."

Daniel followed him to a library. Another library. He was really hoping this wasn't another Lizaveta. A portly man rose from an armchair near the fireplace. He was probably between fifty or sixty and looked like a friendly grandfather. His ears stuck out, his hair was gray and showed signs of curl despite its shortness, and he was smiling broadly.

"Welcome, Dr. Jackson, to Site 12," he said.

"Thank you. It's very nice. Can I go home now?"

"This is Gerald Connors," Makepeace said.

"Thank you Robert. Templeton is waiting for you."

"Of course, sir." Makepeace gave Daniel a nod and left the room.

"Please, Dr. Jackson, have a seat," Connors said, gesturing towards a low padded stool. "I had them bring something without a back because I thought you might prefer it."

"I do." They both sat down. "When can I go home?"

"That remains to be seen," Connors said. "In the meantime, I've got a little proposition for you."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm saving you some time. No. There's no need for you to propound your proposition. Whatever it is, no. I won't do it."

Connors blinked, then smiled. "Well, you don't mince words, there's that to say about you."

Daniel blinked. "No . . . I mean I can, but not on this occasion. So, since you're not going to get whatever it is you want, can I go home?"

Connors leaned down to the table between them and lifted the teapot. "Tea?"

With a sigh, Daniel resigned himself to the fact that this wasn't going to be easy. "Sure." He took the tea Connors gave him and sipped. "That isn't your real name, is it?"

"No, but it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Daniel said. "Why am I here?"

"I thought you didn't want me to 'propound my proposition' as you put it."

"No, not that. I'm assuming you want me to do translations, to interpret artifacts, and all that sort of thing. Why here? I mean, according to what I've heard so far, you already have access to all our data. Why not send me back to where all my resources are, where I'm comfortable? Why here?"

"Because here you will not go out on missions and risk that valuable mind of yours."

Daniel was stunned. "You're kidding."

"We have tried other means, working on General Hammond's natural concern for your safety as a civilian, that sort of thing, but it hasn't worked. You've proven to be too persuasive. We're simply removing you from the temptation to put yourself in danger."

Daniel stared at the man in shock. When he found his voice again, he said, "You know, my most recent brush with danger was right here on planet Earth."

"Yes, I know, but you would not have had it had you not been offworld in a dangerous situation." He shook his head. "You should never have been permitted offworld once the danger from the Goa'uld was apparent."

"There have been a few instances where not having me there would have meant the team dying," Daniel pointed out.

"Perhaps so, but you must see it from the proper perspective. Jack O'Neill is very good at what he does, but he is, ultimately, replaceable. Major Carter is more difficult, but she is at least trained to protect herself."

"And Teal'c?"

"He's an alien," Connors said, shrugging. "Not my concern. The point is, you are impossible to replace. Even if you trained someone else, your particular gifts, your mindset . . . I'm afraid it's not teachable. You can't create that kind of thinking in another person. It's either there or it isn't. Dr. Jackson, you are a certifiable genius and risking that is simply unacceptable."

Daniel blinked, thinking about Connors' words. "So, what you're saying is that if a whole team was lost because they didn't have me along to communicate for them, the fact that you had protected me from harm would justify the loss of life?"

"In a nutshell. In fact, Major Carter, though she is exceptional in her field, she is considerably more replaceable than you are. Your unique blend of talent, knowledge and worldview make you –"

"Bullshit."

Connor's eyes widened and he sat back, eyebrows raised. "What?" he asked incredulously.

Daniel enunciated his words with care. "Bull. Shit. I am no more or less replaceable than anyone else. Furthermore, I am a valuable and productive member of SG-1. By imprisoning me, you're hurting what you claim to be trying to protect."

"How so?"

"I need those experiences, those opportunities to hear and speak new languages, to encounter cultures based on different extrapolations from our own roots, in order to continue to grow." Connors didn't seem impressed. "And this argument that I'm somehow more important and worthy of preservation than anyone else is ridiculous. Your dismissal of Teal'c, who –"

"Your respect for all life is well known, and I honor you for it, but I am not, nor can I afford to be, an idealist. Idealism is fine in times of peace, but in times of war, it must give way to hard-headed pragmatism."

Daniel shook his head. "That's –"

Connors cut him off with a sharp gesture. "You are not here to debate with me, Dr. Jackson, and this is neither the time nor the place." Daniel grit his teeth and looked down. "We seized this opportunity when it came, naturally, but I'm afraid we weren't prepared for you."

Daniel looked up with a grimace. "Well, it's good to know you weren't planning this," Daniel said. "I think I'd be pretty creeped out if you already had things set up."

Connors snorted. "In any case, suitable accommodations are being prepared for you elsewhere as we speak, but they're not ready yet."

Daniel smiled disingenuously. "You really don't need to go to the trouble. I have a very nice apartment in Colorado Springs."

Connors behaved as if Daniel hadn't spoken. He rose and went to the door. "In the meantime, there are some rooms set aside for you here. They aren't fancy, but you should find them adequate." Opening the door, he gestured for a middle aged sergeant-looking fellow to come in. "Thompson will show you to your rooms and see to your needs." He turned to go.

"I'm not going to work for you," Daniel said.

Connors turned back and paused in the doorway. "Have a pleasant few days, Dr. Jackson. I have several commitments to fulfill over the next several days, but I will return on Sunday for a drive in the country."

Daniel's lips tightened. "Looking forward to it."

"If you need anything, let either Thompson or Makepeace know." Then he was gone and Daniel was left alone with Thompson.


	12. Unexpected Conversation

**Chapter 12 – Unexpected Conversation**

"Do you need a hand up, sir?" the older man asked.

Daniel shook his head and got to his feet. "Lead on."

As they exited the room, Daniel reflected that it resembled an old house, all wood paneling and parquet floors. For all he knew it was. They headed down a central hallway to a pair of double doors at the far end. Wooden doors concealed who knew what on either side of him. If this was the old house it looked like, they were probably kitchens and a dining room, perhaps even a ballroom. The doors at the end led into a narrow passageway that sloped down and made a slight curve to another set of double doors.

Beyond them, it was as if they'd entered another era altogether. White walls and gleaming linoleum tile, with beige doors. There were number panels beside the doors, but no other signage. It was very institutional in appearance.

The last time he'd been in a place that looked like this, he'd been under heavy medication. He hoped the accommodations here would have furniture at the very least, and a dearth of hulking orderlies.

It was a long hallway with doors on either side. There were a pair of double doors at the end of this one as well, and Daniel wondered where they led. "The residential areas are all above the second floor," Thompson said. "The elevator is halfway down the hall."

Daniel nodded, still looking around as they walked. Residential areas. He filed that away for later consideration. In the meantime, there were voices audible behind some of the doors, and he was growing more curious by the minute. He dropped back a little and Thompson didn't seem to notice. Stopping beside a door with the label "1-R," he reached out to turn the handle. There was a click, and the knob wouldn't turn.

"Dr. Jackson!" Thompson hurried back over to him. "Please, you must come with me."

Daniel dropped his hand from the doorknob and sighed. "What's in there?" he asked.

"People are working. We really shouldn't disturb them."

"Are people working in all these labs?" Daniel asked casually.

"Not all of them are occupied, no," Thompson said. He gestured in the presumed direction of the elevator. Daniel accompanied him with another sigh. When they got on, Thompson stood in front of the buttons and pressed one. There was no LED readout, no indication of what floor they were on. It wasn't more than a second or two before they stopped, though, so Daniel guessed it was probably no more than the third or fourth floor.

Daniel looked out at the hallway beyond the elevator. Here the floor was covered in plush brown carpet, the walls were a neutral cream, and there were elegant prints hanging on the walls. "This way," Thompson said. Daniel followed him past yet more doors. These, too, had numbers, and they had little keypads beside them to open and close the door. "So are there usually people in these hallways?"

"Yes, Dr. Jackson. Mr. Connors had the halls cleared."

"So that I wouldn't see anybody, or so that nobody would see me?" Daniel asked.

Thompson smiled. "Yes," he said simply. Daniel took in a deep breath and pursed his lips irritably. His hands were buried in his pockets, and he was looking around suspiciously. He'd spotted at least three security cameras, and suspected that there were others that had been more cleverly concealed. Who lived here? The people working in the labs below? People like Makepeace who were fugitives that didn't dare show their faces in public? People who were a risk to the organization if permitted to live on their own? People like Daniel, held prisoner 'for their own protection'? "Here we are," Thompson said. He once again blocked Daniel's vision of the buttons, and since all of them made the same high pitched beeping sound, he couldn't memorize the code from that.

The door unlatched and Daniel wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction. Only the conviction that large, armed guards would materialize suddenly and stop him made him think twice about it. "So," he said, "if I decided not to go in there, what would happen?"

"Are you refusing?" Thompson asked, his face a careful blank.

"No, this is really more in the nature of a hypothetical question."

"I see. Well, as the first step, I would try to persuade you that it was the only sensible thing to do." Nodding, Daniel waited for more. "If that failed to be effective, I would summon some of our security staff to encourage you to comply."

"And this encouragement would consist of?"

"At first, I believe they would use their mere presence coupled with your hoped for common sense to give you the proper motivation. After that, they might be forced to be a little more direct."

Daniel nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That doesn't sound like much fun."

"I can assure you that it wouldn't be," Thompson said gravely. Daniel sighed and walked into the room. Thompson followed him in and shut the door. "If there is a fire, the door will unlatch automatically, and fire exit signs will light up to tell you where to go. The stairs are immediately beside the elevator."

"Good to know," Daniel said neutrally.

"Should your door be blocked, there is a fire escape outside the window, which will also unlatch automatically." Daniel nodded. "There are children who live in some of these apartments, so I would not recommend setting a fire to help effect an escape."

"Right," Daniel said. He looked around at the room. This was clearly the living room of the apartment. There was a pleasant enough sofa and loveseat arrangement in dark red, and a large oak armoire that presumably contained electronics rather than linens positioned in a good line of sight for both. A telephone sat on the end table beside the sofa. "A telephone?" he asked.

"It calls the switchboard, or you can dial extensions within the facility, though most extensions have, in fact, been locked out of your phone." Thompson walked over and bent down, fiddling with something at the base of the phone. Unwillingly, Daniel followed him. "This is a list of the people you can call." It was depressingly short.

"Charming place," Daniel said.

"There is a kitchen through that door, a bedroom through that door."

"The bathroom?"

"Is off the bedroom," Thompson replied. "Clothing in your size has been provided, and if you put your clothes in the laundry chute, the staff will see that they are cleaned and returned."

"I thought I was only going to be here for a few days."

"Arrangements are being made elsewhere," Thompson said with a small smile. "But we all know how a few days on a project like that can lengthen into a week or more."

"Not having held anyone prisoner before, no, I really don't."

Thompson shrugged. "Lunch has already been prepared, and is waiting in the kitchen. I will return to cook your dinner at around four." Daniel blinked, not certain what to say to that. "Is there anything you'd like to ask, anything you want?"

"Bus fare to Colorado Springs," Daniel said.

"Anything a little more achievable?" Thompson asked.

"Oh, surely they pay you enough to front me that much."

Thompson's lips twitched. "Then I will see you at four, sir." He left and Daniel stared after him, trying to figure out what was going on. He acted like a butler or something. Wrapping his arms around his chest, Daniel wandered around the place. The bedroom was done in greens and blues, with plaid sheets and a dark blue bedspread. The furniture was all oak, like the living room. The bathroom was fairly ordinary. Blue tiles, shower bath, mirror with a medicine cabinet behind it, all the usual stuff. He wandered into the kitchen and found it a very small but functional space. There was a table with room for two at one end, and a galley style food prep area. On the table was a covered plate. Daniel walked over and picked up the cover.

It was a nice, thick sandwich with all the trimmings. Condiments had been left to the side, but there were meat and cheese and tomatoes and pickles and lettuce. He pulled the pickles off and added some mustard. His stomach was rumbling again, despite the stress, though, oddly enough, there was less stress here than there was when he was in the same room with Gregor.

Picking up the plate, he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and walked into the living room. He set the plate down on the table and picked up the remote. He found a mind numbing cop show and settled down to eat.

Even if he could get out one of the windows, he'd have a hell of a time climbing down with his body in this shape. The burned leg was healing very well, despite the lack of care, but his back was feeling very tender and achy, and if it was getting infected . . . He had the sudden urge to take off the bandages and see if he could see what the damned thing looked like, but it didn't seem wise.

The phone rang and Daniel looked over at it perplexedly. Who could be calling? He reached out and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Michael!" The voice was female and breathless. "You're off early! Are you coming! Please say you're coming!'

Daniel blinked. "This is Daniel Jackson," he said distinctly. "I think you have the wrong number." She make a squeaky sound and hung up the phone hastily. Daniel stared at the phone bemusedly, wondering if his little leak of information would have any effect, but then the phone began to ring and he held it back to his ear. A bored voice answered on the second ring. "Switchboard. Can I help you?"

"No, thanks, I didn't mean to call, sorry." He hung up the phone before he could babble any more than that. Who was she? What did she want? Surely the phones were bugged, and not just on his room. All the phone lines had to be bugged.

On a whim, he picked the phone up again and dialed zero. The same bored voice answered. He said, "Can I have an outside line?"

"One moment please," she said, and hope flared. If they had been that careless, if they had counted on his being told he couldn't do it to keep him from trying, he had a chance to contact Jack or Hammond. It was a one shot, though, so he had to choose the person wisely. If the phones were bugged, he wouldn't get a second chance. He decided on the base. Someone would always answer the phone there, and they would undoubtedly have instructions about what to do with a call from him. The operator spoke again. "I'm sorry, your access to outside lines has been revoked. Please contact your supervisor."

"But –" The line went dead and Daniel hung up, feeling flat. Hope sucked sometimes. He stopped himself just in time to keep from thumping back against the sofa. Very gently, he leaned back. It was painful, but not as bad as he had expected.

He wondered how long he'd stay with this particular group of captors.

Thompson showed up at four on the dot and started bustling in the kitchen. He came out and fetched Daniel's plate and the soda can. Daniel was now watching a fairly entertaining movie about sports, _The Replacements._ Second chances . . . his second chance at his career had cost him his wife and a life he'd come to love. Now someone wanted to steal the life he'd built on the wreckage of the old. If curses had any basis in reality, he'd be certain he had one.

There was a knock at the door, and as Daniel was considering getting up and yelling through the door that he didn't know how to open it, Thompson came out of the kitchen and started pressing little beeping buttons. He opened the door and there was a brief rumble of male voices. "Dr. Jackson?" Thompson said.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to see Robert Makepeace?"

Daniel closed his eyes and sighed. "Sure. You making enough food to feed him?"

"Yes sir."

Makepeace entered the room and Daniel looked up at him pathetically. "Come in, sit down, stay to dinner."

Looking a little startled, he sat down and stared at Daniel. "You okay?"

"Let's see, I've been held prisoner by three different groups of people in the last two weeks, all after being shot at a lot by a whole mess of Jaffa. By the way, do you have any idea if the rest of the team made it back from Russia?"

"They're all in the states now," Makepeace said. "Colfax will make a full recovery."

"Good." Daniel looked down at his hands. Swallowing, he looked up again. "They're all really fine?" Makepeace reassured him again, several times, and finally Daniel sighed. "You know, Robert, I'm not sure why you'd ask that question of me. Am I okay?" He shook his head. "I've just had a man tell me that he plans to take my life's work away from me because he thinks I'm too important to do it. In order to achieve this, he plans to hold me prisoner for an unspecified amount of time for my own good. There's absolutely nothing about that situation that would lead to 'okay.'"

"Daniel, you've got to see that he's got the country's best interests at heart."

"Don't you start!" Daniel said. "If you start that, I'm going to take back my invitation to dinner."

Makepeace tilted his head with an odd expression. "Okay, I won't talk about that."

"Good. Now, I'm not sure I can sit up without putting more pressure on my back than is a good idea." Makepeace stood up, walked over in front of him and held out his hands. Daniel let him help him up. "I hate this kind of thing."

"I'd ask which kind of thing, but I'm not sure I can. Is this to do with your back or other stuff?"

"My back," Daniel said, grimacing sourly. "I hate needing help. I hate admitting that I need help."

"I don't think anyone's fond of it."

Daniel started to shrug, but stopped himself in time. Closing his eyes he cast about for something to help occupy the time. "I don't suppose you play chess."

"I do," Makepeace said. "It's an elemental strategy game."

"It is," Daniel agreed. "Would you like to play? Assuming a chess set can be located."

"Sure," Makepeace replied and looked around. "Not sure where to look." He wandered over to the bookshelves by the door.

Daniel walked over to the armoire and looked in the lower cupboard. "Games," he said. "But I'm not bending over to look at them."

Makepeace walked over and squatted, and after a few moments he pulled out a checkerboard and a box of chess pieces. Sitting on the sofa required too much leaning forward for Daniel to be comfortable, so they went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Daniel turned his chair around and sat across it, leaning forward on it to support his weight. They flipped a coin for the white and Makepeace won. Daniel was just as glad, because it put him in a position to watch Makepeace and judge his game.

Appetizing smells filled the kitchen while Thompson cooked. Daniel was pleased to find in his opponent a good, creative player. It wasn't what he'd have expected of Makepeace, but the man had to have had something or he'd never have gotten into the SGC in the first place. After three games, Thompson informed them that they had to shift the board so he could serve dinner. Makepeace carefully carried the board over to the counter where Thompson gazed sourly at it for a moment before bringing their plates over. Pasta primavera with broiled chicken and garlic bread. He'd evidently already done most of the clean up. What he hadn't done he finished quickly and left.

Daniel looked over at Makepeace. "Why the butler?"

"It's possible that someone mentioned to Connors that you're not always that great about taking care of yourself when you're working."

"Great," Daniel said dryly. "I wonder who that could have been."

"What were you watching when I came in?" he asked.

"I have no idea, honestly. I know there were car chases, and people shooting people, which is sort of appealing at the moment."

"It wasn't the sort of thing I'd expect you to watch, somehow."

Daniel looked up. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know, history stuff, I guess. Archeology."

"There is nothing on earth more frustrating that watching archeology shows," Daniel said with feeling.

"Why?"

Daniel stared at him. "Think about it. I mean, what if someone was doing a show on . . . do soldiers have specialties the way academics do?"

"Sure."

"What's yours?"

"Special forces," Makepeace replied.

"So if someone was doing a television show about . . ." Daniel paused, blinking. "No, I don't suppose you want people talking too much about your job."

"Not really," he said with a smile.

"Well, look at it from my perspective. I have a PhD in archeology, I used to teach undergraduate courses while I was getting both my master's and my doctorate. You have direct experience of the way that I will begin to lecture at the drop of a hat."

Makepeace let out a low, amused laugh. "Oh yeah," he said. "I do remember. There was one time when –"

Daniel thought he could see where this was going. "How much do you know about Hatshepsut?" he asked abruptly.

Makepeace blinked. "Not much."

"Unless you want to know a whole lot more, you won't finish that story."

Grinning, Makepeace shrugged. "You had a point, I believe?"

"Right," Daniel said. "I have a strong desire to spread knowledge. Watching educational shows about archeology that have almost all the key facts wrong and not being able to do the slightest thing about it makes me nuts."

"Surely the stuff about the actual archeology is right?" Makepeace asked.

"Yes, of course, but having met Ra, Set, Hathor, Apophis, all of these aliens who masqueraded as our ancient gods, I have difficulty sitting through shows that talk about them. I mean, I helped kill Ra. Jack killed Hathor. Sam killed Set. They were real people who had specific impacts on our culture and past, not to mention our very real present. And the timelines are all wrong, and there's nothing I can do about it. You should see Sam when she sees specials on science where they get all the facts wrong and she knows she can't correct them." He shook his head. "I mean, maybe you don't want people to know about what you did, but if someone was making a documentary about something you're an expert in, you'd want them to get it right, right?"

Makepeace was nodding. "I suppose I see what you mean. It's hard to watch them get it wrong."

"Very hard." He sighed. "I used to try and publish occasionally, but between the things I had to edit out myself because I couldn't offer proof and the things the government wanted to censor, it was just pointless."

They ate in silence for awhile. "You know, Jackson, eventually this project will be declassified, and the things you've written, the discoveries you've made, will be known and attributed to you."

"It's not the attribution so much, though that would be nice, it's the fact that most of what 'everyone' knows about ancient Egypt, and ancient Greece, ad nauseum, is a tapestry of lies and misinformation, and those false facts are still being propagated, and will be until we can tell the truth." He shook his head. "Let's not talk about it. I get frustrated just thinking about it."

Makepeace nodded. "Sure. I'm not sure what to talk about instead, though."

"Well, you're an officer, you have to have a degree in something. What did you study?"

"Military history," Makepeace said.

"Any particular period?"

"Napoleonic." There was a pause while Makepeace looked at him ironically, as if waiting for something.

"Do you war game?" Daniel asked.

This evidently wasn't the response Makepeace had been expecting. He blinked a couple of times and said, "I have. It's not an obsession with me like it is with some guys, but it can be interesting."

"I knew a few guys in college who used to run through some of the battles of Alexander, or even earlier conflicts, but I never got into it myself. Too interested in the peace between the wars."

"Well, you have to study the peace between the wars to understand the causes of the wars to begin with," Makepeace said. "After all, war doesn't spring forth of its own accord. The seeds of it lie in the quiet time before it starts."

"True." Daniel was feeling a little guilty. He'd never have expected to have a conversation like this one with Robert Makepeace, and if he analyzed why, it went down to a basic assumption that Marines were stupid by default.

"That's the thing the guys who are so obsessed with working their way through the battles, and figuring out ways the other side could have won often forget. They ignore the precursors, and if you don't change those, you can only go so far in changing what happens in the battle."

Daniel nodded. "I know what you mean. I've run into a few folks who seem to think that the war is a separate entity, something that can be considered in isolation. I even had a class that dealt with the Peloponnesian wars, but the professor wanted us to consider the events in the wars without dwelling on causes or effects."

Makepeace tilted his head curiously. "Something tells me you didn't do well in that class."

"Oh, I scraped by," Daniel said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I was probably wrong about at least some of my opinions then, but I was an undergrad, and very young."

"If I read your records right, you were very young indeed as an undergrad."

"Oh yeah." Daniel bit his lip. "I was young enough to be both overconfident and insecure. The overconfidence made me too sure of my own opinions and the insecurity led me to defend them even once I realized I was wrong. Pretty much I was a pain in the ass."

Makepeace leaned back. "I think we're all like that at that age," he said. "You just had a more challenging environment to do it in."

Daniel snorted. "Are you saying high school isn't a challenging environment?" he asked.

The other man's expression grew thoughtful. "No, I can't say that, but at least everyone around you is doing it at the same time."

"Yeah, I guess." Daniel shrugged carefully. "In high school I was the hotshot twelve-year-old who threw off the curve and screwed everybody up."

"You did have friends, though, right?" Makepeace asked.

Daniel blinked, taken aback both by the concern and pity his companion was showing and by the fact that he was talking so freely. He shook his head. "Why am I telling you this?" he asked.

Makepeace shrugged, looking perplexed. "We were just talking."

"I don't want to talk about this stuff," Daniel said vehemently. Pity wasn't something he wanted. He couldn't figure out what had come over him. He hadn't even been this open with Jack.

"Sorry," Makepeace said, sounding a little nettled.

Daniel looked down at his plate and pushed the remnants of his pasta around with his fork. "You've got to see that this is crazy. You can't just hold someone prisoner and make them work for you. You can't just kidnap anyone you deem necessary for whatever reason."

Makepeace raised his eyebrows. "If I recall correctly, your response to this 'kidnap' was 'Thanks, guys,' which doesn't come across as objecting, you have to admit."

Daniel tossed his fork down and got up. "You know perfectly well that I thought the guys in masks were people from the SGC."

"Be that as it may, I still think that this 'kidnapping' could be more properly called a rescue."

Daniel shook his head. "No. It may have started out that way, but once you decided to hang onto me instead of sending me home . . . rescues end with the rescuee at home and free."

Makepeace gave him a sour look. "You should know, I suppose, you've been the beneficiary of quite a few over the years."


	13. A New Prison

**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.


	14. Not Smooth Sailing

**Chapter 14 – Not Smooth Sailing**

Jack looked at the yellow pages listings of for private detectives knowing that he didn't dare call one. Trials for treason weren't his cup of tea, particularly not when he was the defendant, and that was about all he'd get out of calling a private investigator. Still, he was getting frustrated. Hammond had no more information than he'd had a week ago, and as time passed, the trail grew colder.

His phone rang and he picked up the receiver, expecting Carter or Hammond, or at the outside, Sara. "Hello,' he said into the mouthpiece.

"You should have gotten there quicker, Jack," said a familiar, smug voice.

"Where is he, Maybourne?" Jack demanded.

"How should I know?" Maybourne asked, sounding sour. "No one tells me squat anymore. You'd think I was a wanted criminal or something."

It was on the tip of Jack's tongue to say that he _was_ a wanted criminal, but he bit back on the words. He wanted to stay on the smarmy bastard's good side, at least for now. "So, what do you know, or did you just call to tell me I flubbed?"

"Pleasurable as that is, Jack, no. I called because I thought I might have a little bit more information than you do regarding the situation."

Jack waited for him to enlarge, but the other man was maddeningly silent. "So were you planning to share this information, or did you just want to gloat?"

"I don't know where Daniel is, so don't get your hopes up on that score."

Jack waited again, growing irritated. He smoothed as much of his annoyance out of his voice as was possible, and said, "Far be it from me to rush you or anything, but . . ."

"Some of my former colleagues have formed a sort of underground think tank that still has connections within the NID," Maybourne said. "I am still in occasional contact with some of them, and I gather that someone has decided that having Daniel Jackson roaming free is not safe."

"Oh, like Daniel would ever break security!" Jack growled. "Or –"

"No, you mistake my meaning," Maybourne said. "They've been trying for years to get Jackson restricted to planetside duty, afraid those extraordinary brains of his are going to get spilled on some alien planet and wasted."

Jack shuddered at the image. "So?"

"So they've decided to take him into protective custody. God's honest truth, I don't know where. I'd tell you if I did, but –"

"Why?" Jack asked suddenly.

"Why what?"

"Why would you tell me?" Jack asked. "Why have you told me this much?"

"Because I don't like to see valuable resources wasted, and unlike my colleagues, I recognize that holding Jackson prisoner is a waste of resources. He's too stubborn to be practical." Jack grimaced, recognizing the truth in that. "You need to find him and put him to work again."

"Yes," Jack said sarcastically, "getting him back to work is the most important thing."

"You don't expect me to be sentimental about this do you?" Maybourne asked and Jack rolled his eyes. "One positive thing to remember is that they won't hurt him if they want him to work for them. They aren't stupid enough to think that he'll respond to torture."

"Somehow I don't find that reassuring," Jack said, reflecting on Daniel's undeniable propensity for irritating people. "They're stupid enough to think they can make him work by holding him prisoner."

Maybourne snorted, but he didn't address that. "Oh, and you might want to check up on some of our friends who got long stays in Kansas or wherever. I believe that some of them may be out without the benefit of parole."

"What?" Jack exclaimed. "Who are you talking about?"

"That's all I know," Maybourne said. "Make of it what you will."

There was a click followed shortly by a dial tone. Jack put down the phone with an oath. A moment later, he was dialing the mountain. Hammond was in a meeting, so Jack left a message and headed in to the base. It wasn't much, but it was more than they'd had.

* * *

Daniel glowered out the window beside the fireplace. Makepeace was gone and he was left alone, contemplating just what he was going to do. He was in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, on the second floor, locked into a bedroom. He lifted the sash of the window and examined the fastenings of the screen. Downstairs they were no doubt discussing just how to get that cuff on him without him hurting them or them hurting him. Though some of them might not be so sure on the latter part of that notion.

He had no idea what Jack would tell him to do. These folks weren't likely to kill him if he failed to cooperate. On the other hand, he didn't have a guess what they were likely to do. How did they hope to control him? The question didn't bear close examination.

The porch roof was easily accessible from this window, and as Daniel had suspected, there was nothing very esoteric holding the screen in place. However, there was a camera pointed this way, angled to catch anyone climbing out from the window onto the roof, and there were terminals on the window frame and the frame of the screen that suggested strongly that an alarm would sound if they were parted. It was set up with care. Daniel could easily remove the screen in case of fire, but an alarm would sound.

It seemed like something of a left-handed compliment. They hadn't underestimated his ingenuity. On the whole, he thought he'd rather be insulted and able to escape than complimented and without recourse.

Irritably, he turned away from the view and wandered around the room. Against the back wall of the house stood a king size bed of some dark, reddish wood with a pair of matching side tables. A small table with a pair of chairs resided under the window he'd just left. A pair of overstuffed chairs sat by the fireplace with a small table between them. Along the wall opposite the fireplace were bookshelves that were largely empty. At the end of the room opposite the bed there was a sofa set facing a large armoire. Since relatively few people sit and stare for long stretches of time at large pieces of furniture, Daniel presumed that it contained an entertainment center. Next to it was the door that Makepeace had said led to the bathroom. Daniel walked over and opened it, revealing a narrow hallway. On the right there was a series of cupboards and drawers, clearly a closet space. On the left were a pair of soothing prints on either side of an archway. Idly, Daniel opened a couple of doors. The sight of a heavy wool coat hanging in one cupboard gave him pause. It was June. Unless they were expecting unseasonably cold weather, that was a definite indication that they still expected him to be here in six months. He shut the door and continued down to the opening in the left wall.

A large whirlpool tub filled the far left corner and a huge glass shower took up the remaining portion of the left hand wall. Directly opposite the door was glass shelving with decorative doodads intermingled with toiletries and towels. There was a long counter with a pair of sinks and, finally, about the fanciest toilet Daniel had ever seen.

Shaking his head, he walked out into the bedroom again. These people were lunatics. Did they really think that locking him up in a plush prison was going to convince him to work for them? At least Travis had acknowledged the truth of the situation. He was a prisoner. They might hope he'd come around, but until that impossible moment, they were holding him against his will.

He very much doubted they'd given up on the electric cuff, no matter how much he'd prefer it if they had. He just wondered how the hell they planned to get him to hold still for it.

He opened the entertainment center and found the remote. Turning the TV on, he sat down and flipped through the channels. Nothing remotely local, just cable channels. No surprise there. He found a show about the machines used to make snack foods and sat back to watch. Thompson brought dinner in and put it on the table. Daniel carried the plate over to the couch and ate the extremely tasty meatloaf there while watching a series of shows on the history channel that were all about periods unrelated to his field of study.

He put the plate on the floor and stretched out on the sofa. It had been a very full day, and his adrenaline was apparently kicking out because he was getting very sleepy. After awhile, he gave up the struggle and let himself fall asleep.

It was very dark in the room when he woke up. He had a headache and his brain felt muzzy. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked over in the direction of the television. It was off, which seemed odd, because he didn't remember turning it off. He swung his feet off the couch and sat up, stretching. Something was binding on his left ankle, so he bent to see if he could free it. When he felt what it was, adrenaline shot through him, increasing the headache but burning away the fog.

There was a strip of plastic around his ankle, with holes down the center, and a small box affixed to the outside of his leg. He was wearing the cuff. They'd damned well drugged him so they could put the wretched thing on. He stood up and turned on the overhead light, pissed beyond words. Cowardly bastards couldn't even face him. He put his foot up on the arm of the sofa and examined the device. What could he use . . .

There were no fireplace tools, a fact which he found unsurprising. Pursing his lips, he went into the bathroom. Heavy glass shelves, bits of statuary, the lid of the toilet tank . . . he walked over to the sinks. Between them there was a really large marble soap dish that appeared to be separate from the counter top. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands. Heavy . . . solid . . . this was probably going to hurt.

Going down on his right knee, he aimed the side of the soap dish at the little white box on his ankle. He took a deep, steadying breath and slammed it down on the box. It made a satisfying crunch as the heavy weight crushed it. He grunted, because the soap dish also drove sharp bits of plastic against his ankle.

Dropping the soap dish, Daniel rubbed at his ankle where the cuff had pulled at it. He had a distinct sense of satisfaction looking at the broken thing. They probably already knew he'd destroyed it. These things were supposed to be hooked up to let the monitors know if the device was tampered with. He could probably expect an ill-tempered visit from his jailers shortly. He couldn't bring himself to care much.

He picked up a jagged chunk of housing and walked back out into the bedroom, leaving the other bits on the floor. They'd probably be heading upstairs right now. He headed over to the screen and started cutting through it. It was a simple deduction. The alarm wouldn't sound if the frame wasn't detached, so don't detach the frame.

Pushing out the center of the screen, Daniel climbed out and looked from side to side. He walked to the edge of the roof and swung down to the porch railing, then dropped to the ground. Hunched over, he ran under the windows to the rose garden, then headed out through the bushes where he'd be less visible. When he reached the outer edge of the garden, he started to hear shouts, and lights began to rake the yard. He fell flat as a light swept across where he'd been standing. He waited a few moments and then got up and hared off across the plain.

He didn't have the foggiest idea where he was or which way to head, but he wasn't going to wait tamely for rescue that might not come. Besides, if they didn't catch him, he'd get away. If they did, they'd get another lesson in just how not fun it was going to be to hold Daniel Jackson prisoner.

The sound of engines behind him made him grimace, but he kept going. If he was lucky they'd head in the wrong direction.

He wasn't lucky. Two ATVs pulled up on either side of him, one with Stu, the other with Makepeace. "Daniel, you are the stubbornest man I have ever met," Makepeace said.

He glared at both of them. "I don't want to go back."

"You really don't have a choice," Stu said. "Now, does one of us have to walk you back, or are you climbing on board?"

"What would you do in this situation?" Daniel asked Stu.

"Our positions are entirely different," Stu said.

"What, you mean you're a jailer and I'm a prisoner?"

"No, I mean you're a certifiable genius and I'm a dumb grunt," Stu replied.

Daniel rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That is the biggest crock of shit I ever heard. Let me go. Say you couldn't find me and let me go."

"We can't do that, Daniel," Makepeace said.

"Why not?" Daniel asked, expecting some ridiculous excuse about how important he was, how they couldn't risk him.

Makepeace shrugged and gave him a cockeyed grin. "We already reported in."

"So what? Do the right thing."

Two more ATVs drove up with two more guys. One was Travis, the other was Kevin. Daniel hadn't seen him since the plane. "All right, Dr. Jackson, we're going back to the house and you're going to stay there this time."

"You think so?" Daniel gave him a tight smile. "I think you'd do better to give in."

"You need to get on behind Makepeace and come back to the house."

Daniel crossed his arms and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Makepeace said, "They have a tranquilizer gun, Jackson." Daniel looked over at Makepeace and saw truth in his eyes. All the wind whooshed out of his sails. "Get on." Sullenly, Daniel walked over and climbed on the ATV.

They took him back to the house and Travis guided him into the office again. "Makepeace, get the ankle cuff off him," he said. Daniel let Makepeace cut the strip of black plastic off his ankle and looked curiously at the three fingers that were taped together on Travis's hand. Apparently his kick earlier in the day had had some impact. Travis rubbed his chin and said, "Kevin, you're going to spend the night with the good doctor."

Kevin looked startled and Daniel glared. "He's really not my type," Daniel said. Makepeace made a muffled sound that vaguely resembled amusement.

Travis shook his head, looking irritable. "Take him upstairs and –"

Daniel took a step towards him and Travis fell silent. "I really don't know exactly what it is you expect of me."

"That you'll behave like a good little civilian and accept that you –"

"Good little civilian," Daniel repeated.

Travis nodded. "You have –"

Daniel slugged him in the face. Travis was clearly not expecting it, because he stumbled backwards. Daniel followed up the first punch with another one. When he started to hit Travis a third time, though, he was grabbed from behind. Travis turned back towards him with an angry glare. He started to drive a punch into Daniel's gut, but Makepeace grabbed him.

"No, Bill," he exclaimed. "He's a civilian and he's restrained."

Travis pulled free of Makepeace and turned away. Makepeace gave Daniel a look of exasperation, like he couldn't figure out what Daniel hoped to gain by this.

After several minutes, Travis turned around. His eyes narrow slits, he looked at Daniel. "You are not going to get away," he said, his voice hard and angry. "We have the upper hand, we outnumber you seven to one, and you don't have half the training any one of us does."

"So what?" Daniel demanded.

Travis took a step closer so that they were almost nose to nose. Daniel glared right back at him as Travis started to speak again. "So you need to be practical and accept that you're here to stay."

"You may have read my files," Daniel said, "but you clearly didn't understand them. I don't give in to this kind of intimidation."

"Go to bed," Travis ordered. "We can talk more in the morning."

Daniel started to growl back at him, but Makepeace grabbed his arm. "Come on, Jackson, let's get you to bed."

"I'm not five!" Daniel snarled, turning on him. "And don't you think I slept enough this evening?"

"I don't," Makepeace said. "Come on." There was an earnest quality to his gaze that irritated Daniel, but also convinced him. He went reluctantly upstairs with Makepeace and Kevin.

Makepeace left them at the door, but Kevin accompanied Daniel into the bedroom. He saw that the screen he'd ripped out earlier was still damaged, but that the window was closed. Not looking at Kevin or speaking to him, Daniel went straight into the bathroom and took a shower to get cleaned up. When he came out, Kevin was sitting on the sofa, watching TV. The minute he emerged, Kevin turned off the TV.

Daniel shook his head. "Your boss is nuts," he said. Kevin looked uncomfortable, but he didn't speak. He just picked up a book and went over to the breakfast table where there was a small light. Daniel turned off the overhead and went to bed.


	15. New Demands

**Chapter 15 – New Demands**

Jack had to be content with reporting his conversation with Makepeace to Hammond then returning to his own work. There wasn't anything he could do without going AWOL, and that probably wouldn't help anything.

Around the middle of the following day, he got summoned into Hammond's office, though. He walked in, not sure what to expect. "We've identified the members of the rogue NID who have been surreptitiously released from prison, and I thought you'd like to know."

"Who?" Jack demanded.

"Henry Kirkpatrick, Brian Michaels and Robert Makepeace."

Jack stared at him for a second, then his control snapped. "Makepeace? Son of a bitch!"

Hammond blinked. "I don't know anything about the other two men, but I actually found Makepeace's inclusion somewhat comforting."

"How so?"

"I don't believe he'd countenance any kind of abuse of Dr. Jackson."

"I wouldn't have thought he'd countenance robbing our allies and giving information to uncleared individuals, but we know he did that." Jack shook his head. "Besides, as I understand it, Daniel was the one who really questioned Makepeace's authority and made things difficult for him while I was gone." Hammond's eyes widened. "And you find this comforting?"

"Not when you put it that way," Hammond replied. He pursed his lips. "Regardless, those are the people who aren't where they're supposed to be, and an investigation has begun to find out just how they were released and who authorized it. In the meantime, I have been assured that the investigators will take the new information into account."

Hammond's tone was dry, and his obvious displeasure was the only thing that kept Jack from blowing up. "How can we trust the NID to investigate their own mess?"

"The FBI and the CIA are involved, too."

"Great," Jack said. "The blind leading the blind and stupid."

"In the meantime, I've got a mission we need to send Dr. Balinsky on, and I want you to keep an eye on him. Dixon's still out on medical, but we can't wait this mission any longer."

"What is it, sir?" Jack asked.

"The mission to P(string). We were waiting for Dr. Jackson, but if you'll recall from the initial report –"

Jack nodded irritably. "All treaties must be completed before the summer solstice. They've got some religious taboo about doing business between the height of summer and the dying of the year. I think that's the phrase Daniel used."

"Yes, and as I recall he suggested that it had more to do with the fact that harvest falls in that time frame and it tends to be a bit of a busy season." Hammond shrugged. "Regardless, their solstice is coming up in the next week, and we need to get access to the ore in their mountains."

"It's hard to take those kinds of needs seriously when Daniel is God knows where with God knows whom experiencing God knows what."

"I understand," Hammond said. "Unfortunately, they don't go away, and you're the best team we have to handle this." He put a hand on Jack's arm. "Can you take it seriously enough?"

"Of course, sir," Jack said. "When are we scheduled to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, 0900 hours."

Jack nodded. "When's the briefing?"

"Two hours." Hammond walked back over and sat down behind his desk. "We've got to thank Balinsky for picking up the ball on this one. He brought it to me this morning."

"I'll be sure Daniel knows when he comes back," Jack said, hoping desperately that Daniel would be in a condition to appreciate the news. "In the meantime, I'd better let Carter, Teal'c and Balinsky know about the mission and the briefing."

"Thank you." Jack started to go out the door, but Hammond cleared his throat. Jack turned back. "I promise you, Jack, I'm keeping on top of the situation." Jack grimaced and nodded. "I want our boy back as much as you do."

"I know, sir," Jack said. He met Hammond's eyes for a moment longer and then left the room. Daniel would be disappointed to miss this mission, but choices being what they were . . .

When he got to the elevator, he waited for the car to come and tried hard not to think about things that people like Makepeace might do to Daniel to persuade him to cooperate. He tried even harder not to think about how Daniel would react to those things. The doors opened to reveal Sumner and Feretti. Jack walked in and pressed the button for the level of Sam's lab. The doors shut again and Feretti said, "Any news on Daniel?"

Jack shook his head. "Not really."

"When are we going to stop waiting and start acting?" Sumner asked, his voice a low growl. Jack looked at him and saw that Feretti was a little surprised.

"When Hammond authorizes it," Jack said. "Just now I have a mission to prep for, to P(string). We leave at 0900 tomorrow."

"Missions! How can you –" Sumner broke off, shaking his head.

Jack crossed his arms. "Going AWOL and getting myself court-martialed won't help Daniel any," he said. The doors opened on the lab level and he walked out. "See you guys later."

* * *

Daniel woke up with the sun hitting him in the eyes. He rolled over and sat up. His back throbbed, his ankle ached, his hands hurt, and he felt like he'd been through a fight or two. He got up and walked into the bathroom. When he was done he came out and came face to face with Kevin.

"Excuse me," Kevin muttered and hurried past him into the bathroom.

Daniel rolled his eyes and walked to the window. The sun was barely above the horizon, and the view was stunningly beautiful. He really wished he could be seeing it under other circumstances. The door behind him opened and he turned, irritation surging. "Do you know how to knock?" he demanded.

Travis smiled at him. "I do, but why bother?"

"Because it would be polite."

"I brought your breakfast. You'll have to be satisfied with that."

Daniel glared at him. "Thanks."

Travis walked over and put the tray down on the table by the window, his movements made more awkward by the way his fingers were taped. His eyes flicked to Daniel's face, a furtive glare. Kevin walked out of the bathroom and stared at the tray. "Nothing for me?" he asked.

"Food's downstairs," Travis said. "We've got a patrol outside now, so we don't have to worry about the good doctor running off again." He gave Daniel a snide grin. "Enjoy your breakfast, Dr. Jackson. Come on, Kevin."

They left him alone with his bacon and eggs, and, robbed of any more worthy target, Daniel glared at them. This was utterly ridiculous, but his stomach grumbled so he sat down and ate the food, hoping this time at least it wasn't drugged.

About an hour later, the food was gone and he was still awake. He wandered over to the window again and stared out. There were men walking along the edges of the garden, clearly the guards to see that he didn't wander away. Unlocking the window, he opened it and breathed in the fresh air.

The door behind him opened, but he didn't turn around. It wouldn't be anyone he wanted to see anyway.

"Dr. Jackson?" It was Travis speaking.

"The tray is on the table. Thank you."

"I'm not here to take your breakfast tray," Travis said. He shut the door behind him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

"Really?" Daniel said. He turned around. "It's all you're going to get."

"You and I need to come to an understanding."

"That's odd, I thought we already had," Daniel replied. "I'm not going to cooperate, and there's nothing you can do that will change my mind."

Travis took a step towards Daniel and gave him a mirthless smile. "I really don't think you ought to challenge me like that. It sounds kind of like a dare."

Daniel tightened his lips and looked down at his feet. Shaking his head, he looked up again. "All you and your friends have impressed me with is the conviction that I wouldn't want to give the secrets of alien Tupperware to you."

Travis walked up close so that he loomed over Daniel from mere inches away. "Look, Dr. Jackson, I can completely understand and admire your unwillingness to cooperate with those wacko Russians, but we're your own people. We're working for the government."

Daniel leaned back slightly and crossed his arms, looking up at Travis with the expression that made bullies everywhere want to smack him through the floor. Enough of them had over the years that he was reasonably certain of its effectiveness. "Odd. I wasn't aware that abduction was a standard form of interagency transfer. I'll have to look over my employee handbook again."

The other man did an impressive job of keeping his cool. Daniel was disappointed. He was hoping for a few bruises to show Makepeace. "These are extraordinary times," Travis said. "Sometimes we have to act outside standard procedures." He smiled dryly. "You ought to understand that, Dr. Jackson, don't you think?"

Daniel blinked up at him. "Acting outside standard procedures?" he asked. Travis nodded. "That implies a small variation on procedure, not a complete re-writing of the manual. Regardless, not one of you has produced so much as a forged credential to indicate that you're working for the government, and I know for a fact that at least one of you is supposed to be in prison. You'll have to forgive me for not trusting your unsupported word. These are extraordinary times, after all."

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Travis gave him a small shake. Unfortunately, this put pressure on the healing wounds on Daniel's back. Despite his best efforts, Daniel hissed at the pain it caused. Travis let go like he'd been scalded. "I didn't mean that," he said, backing up.

"Yes, you did," Daniel replied, eyes narrowed with dislike. He pushed past Travis and walked over to the sofa. He bent stiffly to pick up the remote control, making the most of his injury, just as Travis had earlier in the day. "I'm going to watch TV until you folks decide to turn me loose." He turned his back on Travis and sat down.

For several long moments, Travis didn't speak or move, but then he left the room, shutting the door behind him with a bit more care than he had used on his way in. Daniel peered over his shoulder. The breakfast tray was gone. He smiled. Round one to Daniel Jackson.

By noon he was ready to scream and rant. Morning television has precious little to offer the discerning viewer, and Daniel got too frustrated watching the pablum they fed kids and whoever else watched TV in the daytime. He walked over to the bed and lay down on his side, glaring out the window. Another round of boredom. Just what he needed to make his month complete.

The door opened and Travis came in with another tray of food. Daniel sat up and glowered at him. "I kind of got the feeling you were in charge. Isn't it beneath you to be serving me my meals?"

"You have a peculiar gift for riling people up," Travis replied. "I don't want you goading my men into doing something they shouldn't."

"I see," Daniel said with a hint of insolence in his tone. He saw Travis' jaw tighten and tried to suppress his grin. From the expression on the other man's face, he failed. Snorting, he said, "You've got to see it from my point of view, Travers."

"Travis."

"Whatever. I don't want to be here. You have no legal right to detain me here. All your claims of moral authority dangle perilously from a point that I don't and won't accept. It serves no purpose, from my point of view, to make this easy for you or your men. Since that's the case . . ." He shrugged.

"What would persuade you to work for us?"

Daniel blinked. "Nothing short of the end of the world," he said. "And that would need to be certified in triplicate." He smiled.

"Enjoy your lunch, Dr. Jackson," Travis said sourly. Then he left the room without another word. Daniel stood up and walked over to the table. Ham sandwich with all the trimmings, mustard and mayo on the side. Potato salad. A glass of lemonade. Sighing, he sat down. At least the food was decent.

* * *

Jack sat irritably while Dr. Balinsky babbled in the local language with the headman of the village. He could tell that the mission was going well from the reactions of the locals, which probably, if he was lucky, meant that the mission would be over soon and they could head home. He glanced over at Teal'c who seemed to be of the same mindset, though he guarded Balinsky closely.

Balinsky and the headman shook hands and the archeologist turned towards Jack with a grin. "I've been successful, sir. We have the mining rights."

"Okay, let's sign the documents and get out of here."

"Um . . ." Balinsky bit his lip. "Actually, there's kind of a ritual, sir. We have to be here for two days of celebration and then we'll sign the documents."

"Two days?" Jack protested.

Balinsky grimaced. "Sir, I'm sorry, but if we don't agree, the whole thing will fall through."

Jack nodded. "Of course, of course. Lead on." He followed to the party, wishing he knew what was happening to Daniel at the moment.

* * *

The door opened about two hours after lunch arrived and Daniel looked up. Travis again. "Hi," Daniel said. "So, do you have a bus ticket for me?" The other man stared at him in consternation. "Or maybe a plane ticket?" No response. Daniel rolled his eyes. "I'd settle for a couple of bucks and a map."

Travis walked into the room, picked up the tray and said, "Follow me."

Shrugging, Daniel followed him. "Is there a bus ticket at the end of this walk?"

They went through the door into the open area that made up most of this floor. Daniel looked around at the bookshelves. "This is your workspace," Travis said. "You will not be permitted back into your bedroom until after working hours are over." Daniel smiled pleasantly, hiding his irritation. A young woman approached from the back of the house where there was a door leading into a room that looked more like an office and less like a library. "This is Ms. Tigard. She will show you where the files we need you to work on are. There's no point in going downstairs, we're all down there waiting for you. Have a great afternoon."

"You, too," Daniel said. Travis turned away, and Daniel couldn't resist. "Oh, you will still be here later, when it's time for dinner?"

Travis turned back with a forced smile. "Thompson will be here by then. He'll take care of you."

"Oh, so you do get to leave occasionally, do you?" Daniel asked brightly. Travis stared at him for a moment, then turned and left without speaking. Daniel shrugged, his grin staying in place.

A feminine throat clearing behind him made him turn. "Good afternoon, Dr. Jackson. Please, call me Sylvia." Daniel gave her a bland look. "Please come with me. All the files are in the office."

"Sure," Daniel said. He followed her in. She was tall for a woman, about his height, and she wore her long dark hair in a single braid. Her clothes were prim, almost dowdy, and her shoes were very sensible.

"I wasn't sure how you'd want to organize things here," she said.

"Oh, I don't plan on organizing anything," Daniel said pleasantly.

She gave him a puzzled look. "Well, I already have it set up by language, if we could identify it, and within the unknown languages, I've tried to separate things the best I could by similar types." She shrugged, clearly somewhat nervous. "I'm not all that experienced with linguistics."

"I see," Daniel said. He walked over to the window. A different view of rolling green plains, and he thought that might be a kitchen garden below.

She seemed disconcerted by his apparent lack of interest. "Within each language, I've separated it by type of item. Artifacts vs. documents vs. monuments. Obviously, none of the artifacts are in here." She gave a nervous little laugh. He turned his head and smiled at her and she bit her lip. "Some of them are here, but I've been told we can requisition any of them you feel you need to aid you in the translation."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Daniel said. He wandered over to the desk and looked down at the amenities there. Leather desk set, very good pens and pencils, a selection of paper, including tracing paper, rubbing paper, and fine cloth paper. The usual desk apparatus, stapler, tape, etc., all of excellent quality.

"It won't?" she repeated uncertainly.

"Nope. I won't be doing any translations."

She blinked at him, looking startled. "Oh," she said faintly after several seconds.

"They did tell you that I don't want to be here, right?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. "I know you're in protective custody."

"Against my will," he added, to round out the statement.

She gazed at him uneasily. "Protective custody isn't always voluntary."

He shrugged. "I don't need it."

"I think Mr. Travis and Mr. Connors and the others disagree."

"Well, they're wrong," Daniel said. "So, no offense, but you organize things however you'd like. I'm going to go find something to read." Turning around, he left the office and went into the library. Finding a book he'd been meaning to finish, he pulled it off the shelf, found his place, and walked over to sit down at the table.

Sylvia followed him out and watched him in apparent perplexity, then she returned to the office and fussed about for the remainder of the afternoon. Six o'clock rolled around and Daniel kept reading until Thompson walked in.

"Good evening, sir," he said. "Do you have any preferences for dinner?"

"Yeah, I'd like some of the meatloaf they have in the SGC commissary."

Thompson stared at him curiously for a moment. "I believe that could be arranged, but it would take several days, and I don't think it would be hot by then."

"It's several days' flight to the SGC?" Daniel asked. Thompson pursed his lips primly. "I didn't think so," Daniel said. "If you got me to a plane, I'm sure I could be at the SGC in time for tomorrow night's dinner, and tomorrow night is meatloaf night."

"I see, sir. What would you like for dinner tonight?"

"I'm sure whatever you choose to cook will be fine," Daniel said, giving up on his effort to call attention to the reality of the situation.

"Thank you, sir," Thompson said, and then left like a properly trained servant. Daniel glared after him.

Sylvia cleared her throat and Daniel turned towards her with a curious smile. He was actually getting very tired. His back was stiff, and it ached from sitting upright all afternoon. And Thompson hadn't unlocked his bedroom door. Some of his feelings must have showed through the veneer he was trying to maintain, because Sylvia's eyes softened. "You really don't look well, Dr. Jackson."

"I'm sure I don't," he replied with a sigh. He looked up at her. "Did they tell you anything?"

"They said you'd been rescued from Russian gangsters, but were inclined to view your protective custody as unjust incarceration." She paused, tilting her head. "Why, what did happen?"

As a declassified version of what he'd gone through, it was fairly accurate. He shrugged, and the movement made him wince. Her eyes widened with increased concern. He grimaced. "I took some injuries during my previous captivity," he said stiffly.

"You poor man," she exclaimed. "Please sit down. I'll let them know you're feeling poorly when I go downstairs."

A sudden thought occurred to him. "Do you live on the compound?" he asked. If she didn't, if she drove outside the area every day, he might be able to get her to help him.

"Yes," she said. Daniel concealed his disappointment. "There's a sort of laboratory about fifteen miles south of here. I guess they thought I'd be uneasy staying here, in a house full of men, so they've set me up with a nice little apartment there."

He nodded absently, distracted by thoughts about escape. "I'm glad you're comfortable," he replied with automatic courtesy.

"Oh, thank you, Dr. Jackson," she said, and Daniel blinked uncertainly at her. Her gushing response seemed out of keeping with his rather wan acknowledgment of her circumstances. She wasn't done yet, either, apparently. "Given your own misfortunes, it's very kind of you to spare a thought for me."

"Not at all," Daniel said. "Good night."

She nodded and after a brief but awkward pause, she replied in kind and went downstairs. Daniel put his head down on the table and closed his eyes. Maybe they wanted to drive him crazy. That might actually work. He groaned.

"Bad day?" Travis asked, and Daniel sat up far too quickly. He hissed as his back protested the sudden movement. Travis knit his brows. "Looks like it might have been," he commented. "You okay?"

Daniel shook his head weakly. "You've got to be kidding!"

Travis pursed his lips and sighed. "Let's get you back into your bedroom," he said after a moment. "I seem not to have taken your injuries into account in my scheduling, and I'm very sorry for that. Tomorrow it will be rectified."

"Oh." Daniel gazed at him, wondering if the man wanted to be thanked for his generosity. Travis turned towards the bedroom door and Daniel rose, following him. Travis unlocked the door and opened it, stepping back to let Daniel in. Daniel walked in and stood, back to the door, waiting for Travis to lock the door behind him and go. He noticed as he stood there that the window screen had been replaced, and bars had been added outside all the windows. They were open, letting in a cool breeze.

Instead of leaving, Travis entered the bedroom. Daniel could still hear him breathing when the door closed. He closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Dr. Jackson, we truly mean you no harm. We just want you to stay in a protected position while you do your vital work. Losing you to some pointless skirmish would be a tragedy and allowing your mind to fall into the possession of our enemies would be a crime." Daniel waved a dismissive hand at him and went over to lie flat on his face on the bed, hoping that Travis would get the point that the conversation was over. "Dr. Jackson, truly," he added, walking towards the bed. Daniel closed his eyes. "We have not only your best interests at heart, but the nation's." Daniel didn't respond. Maybe he would finally get the hint and shut up, even if he wouldn't go away. "You are an undervalued asset in our fight against offworld aggression and –"

"Spare me your self-righteous bullshit," he growled, rolling up to a sitting position to glare at Travis who looked affronted. "What do you think you know about 'offworld aggression' as you so blithely term it?" He scowled at Travis. "Justify it to yourself however you like. I know it's nonsense."

Travis was getting visibly annoyed again. "Dr. Jackson, you need –"

"Go away!" Daniel said, and he heard his voice breaking. Travis broke off and he stared at Daniel open-mouthed. "I ache and I'm tired and I don't want to hear anything more about your reasons for wrenching me out of my life."

"We didn't do any wrenching," Travis protested. "That was the Russians."

"Go away," Daniel repeated wearily. "Go the hell away and talk to people who believe you."

Pursing his lips, Travis turned around and walked out of the room. Daniel listened and he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. Someone had promised him more freedom here. Somehow that didn't seem to be happening.

He flopped down flat on the bed. For several minutes he just lay there, contemplating his options. He could remain flopped, which was appealing to say the least. He could go to the bathroom, a need that was sporadically making itself known. He could hurl himself repeatedly at the door until it broke. This also had its appealing points. He could break the neck of the next person who came into the room. He smiled grimly into the bedspread.

The door opened and he growled.

"Thanks a lot, Jackson," Makepeace said.

Daniel pushed himself upright and glared at him. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Travis sent me up to check on you. Seems to think you're hurt."

"I had just decided to kill the next person who came in here," Daniel said sourly. "Come on over here and check on me, why don't you?"

"Ha ha ha," Robert said. He walked over and looked down at Daniel. "So, _are _you hurt?"

Daniel tilted his head. "Well, I've been beaten, shocked, whipped, and strangled, in that order." He gestured to his leg. "There's a mostly healed burn here and –"

"New hurt," Robert interpolated.

"No," Daniel said. "I'm just sick and tired of being lectured by idiots."

"So, do you need anything?"

"A key to the door and a gas grenade?" Daniel said hopefully.

Robert rolled his eyes. "Anything that wouldn't get me shot?"

Daniel sighed contemplatively, then shook his head. "Nope, I can't think of a thing."

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to go away, and Daniel drew in a breath to say something, though he had no idea what. Robert stopped and turned back. Daniel shook his head at his inquiring look. "What? Does O'Neill read you a bedtime story?"

Daniel gave him a disgusted look. "No, that's Sam's job," he said sarcastically.

Robert's eyes took on a faraway glaze. "Hell, I wouldn't mind having Carter read me a bedtime story."

"Hey!" Daniel said, straightening and glaring at the other man.

"Cool off, Jackson, I'm not interested, but you gotta admit, she's a looker."

"You keep your mind off of Sam!" Daniel growled, knowing he was being ludicrous.

"Hold your horses," Makepeace said with a laugh. "She's too young. Now if we were talking about –" He broke off abruptly and flushed.

Daniel blinked, afire with curiosity. "If we were talking about who?" he asked.

"Never you mind, Jackson," Robert said.

"No, come on, I'm curious now."

"That's your problem."

"I'm going to wonder. Do you want me to make something up?" Robert's eyes widened. "Do you want me to go back to the SGC with my guesses and start asking people?"

"Why would you do that?"

"It's fun. Besides, I have to pay you back for torturing me like this."

He was wholly unprepared for the galvanic impression he made on Makepeace. "I'm not! I haven't – I wouldn't –"

Daniel shook his head. "I meant torturing me with curiosity, Robert," he said irritably. "I know you wouldn't torture me physically. You leave that to Travis."

"Of course I –" Robert started, then he broke off, staring aghast at him. "What? What did he do?"

Daniel shrugged, wincing. He played up the wince slightly for Robert's benefit. "Nothing," he said unconvincingly.

Robert stood up abruptly and walked across and out of the room. Daniel watched him go with more than a little surprise. He had expected some kind of response, but not this purposeful exit. It was actually a little alarming.

Even more alarming were the sounds he heard a few moments later. It came in through the windows, which suggested that the windows downstairs were open too. Daniel stood up and walked over to the one he'd broken out through. He heard raised voices, and then the sounds of a scuffle, then an ominous silence. Heavy footsteps on the stairs followed, and he looked at the door, waiting for someone to come in. The footsteps stopped well before they reached his door, however.

After about twenty minutes, Thompson came in with a covered tray and set it down on the table. Daniel looked at him. "What happened downstairs?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Thompson said with such utter conviction that Daniel almost believed him. "If you please, I need to change your bandages. Dinner will keep for the moment." Uncertainly, Daniel followed him into the bathroom and let him redress the wounds. "The infection does not seem to be going away as fast as Dr. ?? said it would. I will have to let them know. In the meantime, sir, I think it would be best if you avoided any strenuous activities."

"Whatever," Daniel said. "Is it knit enough that I can bathe yet?"

"No baths, sir, but showers would be acceptable," he said. "Prolonged immersion would be deleterious, I believe."

"Right." Daniel sighed.

"If you would like, sir, I will come in the morning and remove the bandages so you can shower, then I will return to rebandage you afterwards."

"That would be great."

"Very well, then. Have you any other hurts that need to be tended?"

Daniel shook his head and waved him off. He would not be waved, however. He led Daniel over to the table with the tray and lifted the cover for him to reveal a steaming slice of roast beef, a pile of fluffy mashed potatoes, a small gravy boat, green and yellow string beans, a green salad, and a glass of milk. Daniel glowered down at it, but he sat down.

"I shall be back in an hour with your after dinner coffee, sir," Thompson said, and then left. Daniel ate, knowing that both Jack and Janet Fraiser would be furious with him if he refused to eat. He might start a hunger strike later, if other ploys failed, but he had a sinking feeling that they'd simply hold him down and force feed him. The coffee Thompson brought him was delicious. He drank it while Thompson took the tray away, making displeased noises over how little Daniel had eaten. It was one thing to force himself to eat enough to be healthy, quite another to clean his plate when he felt vaguely nauseated. The coffee, however, was good. He sat down on the sofa, popped the TV on and sat back to watch Law & Order.


	16. No Means No

**Chapter 16 – No Means No**

Light fell on Daniel's face, awakening him. He blinked and wondered when he'd gone to bed. The last thing he remembered was hoping that the verdict would be guilty. He shifted to the edge of the bed and sat up. He was wearing his boxers and nothing else. Since that wasn't what he typically wore to bed, he wasn't sure how he'd wound up that way.

Looking down, he stared stupidly at the ankle cuff before he recognized what it was. They'd drugged him again, no doubt with the coffee. They'd drugged him and replaced the house arrest cuff. He stood up and went into the bathroom. The marble soap dish was gone. He narrowed his eyes and made a tour of the room. Everything large enough to be useful to him in destroying the transmitter had been removed. Mouth tight with annoyance, he walked back to the door into the bathroom. He opened it, carefully placed the box between the door and the frame, then swung the door wide and slammed it shut on the thing with all his strength.

It shattered with a satisfying crunch. He shook his leg to let the loose pieces fall away and then squatted to examine what was left of it. There were still some bits of electronics stuck to the casing, so he began to pull at them with his fingers, yanking as much of it away as he could. He was still in the process of peeling the last bits away when the door opened. He rose and turned with a smile to welcome Travis into the room. "Good morning," he said maliciously.

"Good morning, Dr. Jackson. What do you think you're doing?"

"Removing an unnecessary device," Daniel said sweetly. "I guess the broken fingers weren't enough to convince you that I don't want it and won't tolerate its presence."

"Dr. Jackson, you have to understand that –"

"I don't _have _to do anything," Daniel said. He noticed with some mild misgivings that a large number of men had filed into the room. "If you've read my files, as you claim, then you know that I am not a man who submits well to intimidation."

"Be reasonable," Kevin said with an ingratiating smile.

"So far I haven't killed anyone," Daniel said, matching Kevin's smile. Kevin blinked at him. "I consider that to be eminently reasonable." There were several smirks and a few uneasy looks. Daniel glowered. "Don't let the glasses and the preferred pacifist tendencies fool you, gentlemen. I've been training with Jack and Teal'c for four years now. Admittedly, every one of you is more than a match for me, but I have the advantage. You need to keep me alive and undamaged." The corollary to that was abundantly clear to all of them. There were no smirks any longer. "Furthermore, if I kill one of you, I won't get the death penalty. The same cannot be said for you."

"Parker, get me some shears," Travis said. "All right, Jackson, I will take the cuff off and leave it off for the time being. If you make further escape attempts, however, steps will have to be taken."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Could you just speak plain English?"

Travis's eyes snapped. "If you try to escape again, the cuff goes back on."

Daniel smiled. "That's clear enough. If you put the cuff back on, I start hurting people." Travis looked like he was going to make an angry retort, but Daniel cut him off. "Now, gentlemen, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a leak. Then, is Thompson here?"

"He's downstairs at the moment," Travis said.

"Then would you send him up immediately? I need him to take care of my bandages before and after my shower." He glanced down at the cuff and broken casing on his ankle. "He can cut the remains of this device off then." Giving Travis a disarming smile, he opened the bathroom door. "Thank you," he added dismissively and left the room.

It was a small victory, but he'd take it. Thompson arrived as he was washing his hands and helped him with the bandages. He also cut the plastic cuff off and took it away. Daniel took the opportunity and looked at his back in the mirror. It was nasty. The whip cuts crossed each other on top of yellowing bruises. His back looked rather like it was rotting away. He could see the redness Thompson had detected as well, where two of the whip scores intersected. The sight made him feel kind of sick at his stomach. He turned the water on to a lukewarm temperature, but it still stung a bit on his back. The shower felt great otherwise, but he cut it short, not wanting to risk problems.

Thompson came in shortly after he got out with fresh clothes and bandages. Daniel got his underwear on then let Thompson bandage him. He drew the line at helping him get dressed, however, firmly shutting the door with his would-be valet on the outside. He had no idea how deep in this Thompson was, but the mere fact of his cooperating with men who were holding him prisoner made Daniel unwilling to trust him.

Once he was dressed, he went out into the living room and gazed out over the gardens. He'd like to go outside, but he doubted the opportunity would be afforded him. "Your breakfast will be up in a few minutes, sir. Do you like your eggs scrambled or otherwise?"

"Cheese omelet," Daniel said without turning around. He heard the door shut as Thompson left and sighed. He watched some TV, but developed a headache after breakfast and went back to bed to take a nap.

Thompson brought lunch but Daniel just looked at it from across the room. He wasn't hungry, and the expectation of neither Jack's nor Janet's reproaches had the power to move him. He kicked most of the covers off, turned over and fell back asleep.

"Jackson!" He blinked as the voice cut through his head like a spike. Rolling over he saw Makepeace come into view above him. He had a spectacular shiner on his left eye.

"Who hit you?" Daniel asked.

"Doesn't matter." He stared down at Daniel. "You look like shit."

"Thanks." Daniel rolled back over and close his eyes. "Go away." Robert put his hand on Daniel's cheek, and Daniel blinked up at him. "Why are you touching me?" he asked blearily.

"Shit," Robert said. He raised his voice. "Travis, we've got a problem!"

"Not so loud," Daniel protested. "Head hurts." Robert bent and started pulling the blankets back over him. Daniel shoved them back off. "Hot."

"That's why you need the blankets, Daniel," Robert said, pulling them back.

Robert was clearly missing the point. Daniel shoved them off again. "Hot," he said more firmly.

"God, you turn into a two-year-old," Robert grumbled. He pulled the blankets across Daniel again and tucked them in. "You're sick, Daniel, you need the blankets."

Daniel blinked at him and glared at the blankets. "Hot," he said plaintively, starting to push at them again.

Robert grabbed them and held them where they were. "You have a fever, Jackson. Just lay –"

"What's wrong now?" Travis demanded from the doorway.

Daniel winced. "Not so loud," he said.

Travis joined Robert at the side of the bed. "What's wrong with him? He malingering?"

Daniel glared up at him impotently. He'd like to stick that word down Travis's craw, but he didn't have the energy. Robert crossed his arms. "No, Bill. You opened up his wounds and he's got an infection. I remember Thompson mentioning something about it yesterday and you saying it wasn't a big deal."

"It wasn't."

"Go away," Daniel said. He really wanted to ask them to argue somewhere else, but he couldn't string the words together coherently. It was at that moment that he realized that Robert was right. He was sick. "Crap!" he muttered. Both the other men turned and looked down at him in apparent surprise. "Jack's gonna be pissed," he added in a gloating tone, looking up at Travis.

"What does he think O'Neill is?" Travis exclaimed. "A god?"

"No, just a very pissed off flyboy with an Uzi and a Jaffa in tow."

Daniel shook his head. "P-90," he said. Robert looked down at him. "P-90, since Chakka."

"Don't get technical, Jackson," Robert said. "Go to sleep."

"Go away," Daniel said.

"Go to sleep."

"I'll go to sleep when you go 'way," Daniel said, narrowing his eyes.

"Fine, but don't kick your blankets off. I'll have Thompson bring you some broth."

"Not hungry."

"I don't care." Robert tucked the blankets in tighter. "I'll be back to check on you."

Thompson did come in with broth, and Robert came by several hours later to make sure he was okay. Daniel slept on and off over the next day or so, he lost track of time. Clearly he'd found some very interesting bacteria because it was keeping him very sick for a very long time. He was also having some very entertaining dreams that were going nowhere pleasant.

* * *

Jack felt tanned, stuffed and extremely frustrated by the time the treaty festival was over and they were able to return to the SGC. He tolerated the medical exam and attended the debriefing with all the enthusiasm he could summon up. Balinsky was justifiably pleased with himself, and Jack gave him the credit he was due, but he just wanted the damned meeting over so he could ask the general if there was any news on Daniel. Not that Hammond wouldn't have greeted him with it, or even called them offworld to let them know, but . . .

Jack knew he wasn't being reasonable, but that knowledge didn't help any.

As the meeting broke up, the general's secretary came in and spoke quietly in his ear. Jack lingered, wanting to ask his questions, and Hammond beckoned him over. "We appear to have some news, colonel," he said. "Rodriguez, tell us again."

"Yes sir," Lt. Rodriguez said. "Four days ago a police report was filed. It described a strange altercation in the front seat of a van in which a young man was seen to be trying to punch through a side front window. It might have passed unnoticed, but the police officer who took the report remembered an argument he'd heard between his sister and his twelve-year-old niece. He verified that they had been on the same road at the same time as the incident in his report, then got his niece to tell him more details. Apparently, her mother's car had been directly in front of the vehicle, and she had been hanging over the back seat, so she had a clear view of everything that happened."

Jack found this fascinating. "Why didn't the sister report anything?"

"She didn't believe her daughter, apparently, said what she saw was too incredible. That things like that only happened on TV or in movies."

"What did she see?" Jack asked.

"A young man, matching the description of Daniel Jackson, suddenly jumped into the front of the van, first trying to break the passenger side window, then blaring on the horn. Before he could do more, another man dragged him backwards and some kind of screen was hung up between the front seats so she couldn't see."

"Could she describe anyone else?" Jack asked.

"Yes sir. The man in the passenger seat appears to have been Robert Makepeace. We have not yet identified the driver."

"Has she been shown photos?" Hammond asked.

"Not yet, but we've sent some along of both Dr. Jackson and our suspects."

"Good," Hammond said. "Now, where was this?"

"Southern Montana."

"Russia to southern Montana?" Jack exclaimed. "They brought him back into the country? That makes things simpler." He walked to the door and hollered, "Teal'c, break out the P-90s!"

"Colonel!" Hammond growled.

"What, sir?" Jack asked. "Montana's full of a lot of not much. We just go out there and shoot people until we find him."

"O'Neill!" Hammond said sharply

Carter and Teal'c came back into the briefing room looking startled. Jack shook his head. "Sir, I don't think you're taking this seriously enough. Daniel can piss people off to a killing rage in less than twenty-four hours. It's been a lot longer than that, sir, and I'm not willing to trust that some NID jerks are going to be able to restrain themselves. After all that's already happened to him, I think we need to step up the pace a little so the bastards don't get a chance to hurt him any more."

"The police and the FBI are attempting to trace the van," Hammond said. "We will move when we get more information. In the meantime –"

"In the meantime couldn't we be waiting in the area, ready to move?" Jack suggested. He could tell that both Carter and Teal'c were with him, a fact Hammond acknowledged by looking at each of them, then sighing.

"We don't know that they didn't take him to another airstrip, Jack."

"They wouldn't take him to another airstrip in Montana, sir," Jack protested. "Why take him that far across the country to fly him somewhere else?"

"Give it a day or so, then we'll –"

"A day, sir?" Jack exclaimed. "It's been four since that information was fresh."

"Yes, and for all we know they've driven him into the wilds of Saskatchewan," Hammond said. "We need more data."

"Which we're not finding by staying here."

"There's nothing we can do, Jack," Hammond said, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's out of our jurisdiction."

Jack grimaced and looked down. He just had images of Daniel being smacked around by a bunch of guys who had no real grasp of just how important he really was.

* * *

Daniel drifted towards the surface from a fairly calm and natural sleep. He could hear people talking in the room, low, intense voices. "I still don't know what you were thinking, Travis, to grab a man like this. Do you have any idea of just how important he is?" Daniel thought that was Gerald Connors.

"Yes sir," Travis said, sounding chastened.

"Irreplaceable knowledge!"

"Yes sir."

"I believe I gave specific orders that physical demonstrations were to be avoided at all costs. Did I fail to make myself clear?"

"No sir," Travis said.

"For one thing, he is not the enemy. A little misguided perhaps, but not the enemy."

"I know, sir," Travis replied. Daniel kept his eyes closed, fascinated.

"He has saved the world a good many times more than you have."

"It was not my intention, sir. I just . . . it's why I haven't been allowing the other men alone with him. He could try the patience of a saint."

"And you're not a saint?" Connors asked.

"I don't know any saints," Travis growled. "And he knows it. He knows he's doing it, he does it deliberately. I think he's trying to goad me into doing something drastic."

"He probably is, he's a very smart man."

"Yes, it's bright to goad a man twice your size into slamming his fist into your face."

"You're not twice his size," Connors said, sounding vaguely amused. "And I certainly hope you're not going to slam your fist into his face, because then I might have to get rid of you."

"Of course not," Travis said immediately.

"If you're that incapable of recognizing his importance to this country, this organization has no use for you."

"I really had no intention of hurting him," Travis protested. "I merely grabbed him. I had not taken the injuries on his back into consideration." The door opened and Daniel wondered who had come in.

"I would take over this operation myself, but I have to be seen elsewhere too frequently."

"Are you two still 'discussing' that?" asked Makepeace. "Unless you want to wake up our important guest, I might suggest taking your conversation elsewhere."

"And I don't like his attitude," Travis said. "He acts like he's in charge of the prisoner."

"The reason Makepeace is along on this little jaunt is that he knows Dr. Jackson considerably better than any of the rest of us do."

"Kevin –"

"Has read the man's reports. That is not a substitute for actual interaction."

"I don't think he's helping. He encourages Dr. Jackson's insolent attitude."

"Dr. Jackson can be as insolent as he wants, Travis. He is our guest. You are replaceable. He is not."

"Sirs, I really think that unless you want to share this whole conversation with Daniel, you should leave."

"Too late," Daniel muttered, then propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at them with a snarky grin. Travis looked incensed, Connors looked chagrined and Makepeace looked amused. "But could you go away anyhow? I'm trying to sleep."

"You seem a good deal better, Dr. Jackson," Connors said. "And I'm sorry we disturbed you." He fixed Travis with an intent stare. "You, out!"

They left and Daniel glared up at Makepeace. "Thanks, Robert. I was getting all sorts of interesting information out of playing possum."

"Am I supposed to be on your side?" Robert asked curiously.

"No!" Daniel growled. "Did you know I was awake?"

"No, and I genuinely didn't want them to wake you up. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Daniel said grudgingly. "Why are you in here anyway?"

He pointed to a tray sitting on the bedside table. "Broth."

"I don't want broth."

"I'm not real worried about that," Makepeace said. "If I have to plug your nose and pour it down your throat, I'm going to."

"Bully."

"Wuss. Drink your broth. It's good for you."

Daniel took the mug and started drinking. "How long was I weird for?" he asked.

"Jackson, you have always been weird, but this recent delirium has only lasted a couple days. The doctor wants you to stay in bed for a few more days."

"Thrilling. I bet Janet's cure would be to get me up and moving."

"Not for this. She'd order bedrest, I guarantee it."

Daniel slumped. "I know."

"And you wouldn't want to piss off our little spitfire, now would you?"

Daniel looked at him curiously. He'd never heard anyone refer to Janet as a spitfire before, and there was a look on Robert's face that gave him ideas that he thought he'd better keep to himself. The fever had had an unfortunate effect on his tongue, however. "You like Janet!" he exclaimed.

Robert's eyes widened and he flushed. "What are you talking about?" he said.

Now that Daniel's tongue had been loosed it ran away with him. "The other night, you started to say who you were interested in at the SGC, but stopped. It was Janet, wasn't it?"

"Doc? Don't be ridiculous," Robert said, but it sounded a little hollow.

"No, I can see that," Daniel said. "I think she could really have gone for you."

"Jackson, knock it off."

"Too bad you fucked everything up so bad." Robert blanched and fell silent and Daniel wanted to kick himself. "I didn't . . . I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what?" Robert asked airily. He glared at the mug in Daniel's hand. "You're supposed to be drinking that." Daniel became abruptly very interested in the contents of his mug. "So, a couple of us are going to town for supplies this afternoon, so I think someone else is going to bring you your next dose of broth. Be nice to them, okay?"

"Why?" Daniel asked. "I'm not nice to you."

Robert stared at him, then shook his head slowly. "Here's some water and a book. I'm leaving now."

"Bye," Daniel said, but when he looked at the book he wanted to call out his thanks, too. The book was the one he'd been reading in the office. And the water tasted wonderful.


	17. Apparently, No Means Yes

**Chapter 17 – Apparently, No Means Yes**

Jack hated stupid people who couldn't follow rules. He hated stupid people who couldn't follow rules who got caught at it even more. When he had to discipline them for breaking rules, he wanted to throw things at them. He struggled with a report about laundry abuse . . . yes, laundry abuse . . . and thought longingly of wringing two very stupid necks.

The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up. "O'Neill," he said gruffly.

"This is Robert Makepeace." Jack sat up straight, staring at the wall above his desk. "I don't have a lot of time and this is a payphone, so don't bother trying to trace me. I'm in Guilford, Montana, at the corner of West and Lansing."

"Where is Daniel?"

"About sixty miles out of town in a farmhouse. You're going to play merry hell getting in, it's a sizable private estate with a fence and security guards. It's north of town on . . . I have to go. I will try to get Daniel out of the house and away from the guards tonight between midnight and four a.m." The phone slammed down before Jack could get another word out. He jotted the message down as quickly as he could and read it through. Then he picked up the phone again and dialed the general's extension.

Within an hour, SG-1 and SG-8 were headed by helicopter to Billings. Sumner was frothing at the mouth, and Hammond seemed to feel justified in his original reaction to finding out that Makepeace was potentially present among the kidnappers.

They were met at the airfield by FBI agents. "Colonel O'Neill," said an older man with a balding pate. "I'm Agent Skinner. We have located the only possible site based on the description you gave us. There are a number of buildings on the property, including three farmhouses, so it may be difficult to locate the correct one."

"Is one of them sixty miles out of town?" Jack asked.

"Yes, but I'm not sure how much credence we should place in your informant's information. Isn't he a convicted traitor?"

"That's complicated," Jack said. "But I can assure you, on this subject he's safe as houses."

"Well, the property is as secure as your informant suggested, and I'm not sure what our best move would be. A helicopter is likely to be noticed, the fence is electrified and patrolled, as are the grounds within."

"Paratroopers," Jack said, and Sumner nodded beside him. "Are the roads watched?"

"I don't think so, but . . ." He shrugged. "I wouldn't have guessed there'd be kidnappers of wildly important archeologists on my patch either."

His expression hinted at some disbelief at the wild importance of Daniel Jackson. Jack decided not to break his nose and put a hand on Sumner's shoulder before he could do anything they'd all regret. "I know, it sounds a little much, but his work is highly classified, and he's more than an archeologist. Now, we'll need some ground troops to watch the exits, and to line the fences on the nearest section. Do we have a map or aerial photos?"

Skinner led them into a mobile headquarters and they got underway.

* * *

Daniel closed his book irritably. He'd fallen asleep twice while trying to finish it, and now it was past midnight and he couldn't sleep. No doubt both the doctor and Makepeace would decide he wasn't getting enough rest and prescribe an extra day of bedrest.

The door to his room opened silently and he sat up straight. The bedside light was on, which effectively blinded him. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Hush," hissed a familiar voice. Something landed heavily on his legs. "Get those on, we're leaving."

Daniel took hold of them. Heavy sweater, jeans, thick socks and a pair of boots. He got out of bed and fumbled them on, wondering what on earth was up with Makepeace. He wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth, however. Dressed, he turned towards the former marine. "Ready," he said softly.

"Okay, those shoes are muffled, so just walk normally, and don't say anything once we're out of here. I've drugged the guards with the same shit they kept giving you, and I've been in contact with O'Neill."

"Got it," Daniel said.

They crept silently out of the house, Daniel keeping close to Makepeace. He still felt a little weak, but he wasn't going to say anything. If Jack was coming, he could make it. He damned well didn't want to spend another night in this house. Robert took him out the back door towards a garage. He opened the door and unlocked the van inside. "Climb in, Daniel. We need to get moving."

"Won't they hear?"

"Not a lot of choice. We can't walk fifteen miles before daybreak, and O'Neill is expecting us."

Daniel nodded and Robert started the van. He looked at the house as they went by. There were no lights on. Maybe they'd gotten away with it. They drove in silence for a mile or two, then Daniel cleared his throat. "Where's Jack waiting for us?"

"I don't know exactly. We didn't have a lot of time for detailed planning. I just told him I'd try to get you out of the house tonight."

"Okay, well, so far so good. How do we get off the compound?"

"That's a little harder." Makepeace grimaced. "I'm kind of counting on O'Neill for help with –" He broke off as the engine coughed and died. "What the – God damn it!" He tried to start the engine, then shook his head. "Shit, we're in trouble." He looked in the mirrors. "Okay, Daniel, get out and run."

Daniel blinked at him. "Okay," he said weakly.

Makepeace pointed. "Run, damn you! That way!"

Daniel stumbled out of the van and took off in that direction, a little startled. He heard gunfire behind him and fell to the ground, twisting around to see what was happening. It looked like Robert was shooting, and then Daniel heard the sound of the ATVs coming up. Someone must have heard their engine, or maybe just gone to the bathroom at a bad moment. Daniel got back to his feet and kept going, though slower now, so that he wouldn't attract attention. The gunfire behind him stopped and he dropped to the ground again on instinct. Just in time, too. A beam of light scanned over the top of him. If he'd been upright, it would have caught him full on.

As soon as the light passed on, he started crawling. He didn't like leaving Makepeace behind, but he also didn't want to go back. He needed to get out of here, needed to find a phone. An ATV zipped past on his left, about thirty feet away, then another on his right, about fifteen feet away. Then he heard men talking and the lights began to move across the ground. He peered around. They were quartering the area, and he was a little too close to the group behind him to make him happy.

He started creeping at a diagonal, trying to get out of the area they were quartering before they located him. More ATVs arrived and more men. These started at the middle of the sides of the original square. Daniel froze. He didn't know what to do. He watched for a few moments and started moving again, very quietly, trying to make for an area that would be uncovered when he got there. Then a light hit him full in the face and he froze again, blinded, hoping they didn't see him, that the light would pass on by.

It didn't, and he heard feet moving towards him from all sides. "Get up, Dr. Jackson," called Stu. "On your feet." Daniel clenched his teeth and climbed to his feet. "Do we have to trank you, or are you going to come back under your own power?" Stu asked.

"Lead on," Daniel said, his voice flat with a combination of weariness and anger.

Stu gestured and Daniel followed him, men gathered all around him. He didn't recognize many of them, but he saw Josh among them, so he knew Connors was still around somewhere. He got on the back of Stu's ATV and contemplated mayhem. If he could just get the bastard off the vehicle, he might be able to run them a chase until Jack found them all. He leaned back a little and started to grab Stu's shoulder. Suddenly, he slammed against Stu's back as Stu brought the vehicle to a screeching halt.

"Parker! Trank him," he called. Daniel slammed a fist into the side of Stu's head, but then he felt the dart hit him in the neck. Whatever it was, it was fast acting. He started to slide off, but someone caught him. After that, he didn't know anything.

* * *

"It's going to take time to get an assault of this size organized, O'Neill, that's all there is to it."

"So long as the people inside don't know what's going on," Jack growled. Dawn was minutes away and they weren't ready to go yet. He didn't altogether like the idea of a daylight assault on the facility, but it was looking more and more like they had no options. The ground forces couldn't remain hidden for long once the day was truly started.

He glanced at his watch. Makepeace either had Daniel outside that farmhouse, or they'd been recaptured. There was no way to guess at this point. No one had come near this section of fence. He knew that.

"We will recover DanielJackson, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"I know. I'd just like him to be in one piece when we do."

* * *

Daniel woke up feeling sore and very muzzy. He sat up and stared about him. Back in the bedroom. He remembered the dart and suddenly understood why he felt so wretched. He got up and went to the bathroom, then emerged feeling marginally fresher to find Gerald Connors waiting in the doorway to his room.

"Dr. Jackson," he said with a jovial smile. "Please, join us. I think you'll find this interesting."

Somehow Daniel wasn't reassured by Connors' good cheer. Rather the reverse, really. He walked towards him and accompanied him into the office area of the floor. On the table where he had read that first day was a document. Near the end of the table stood three men, Robert Makepeace, Stu and Travis. Robert had his hands cuffed behind his back and both Stu and Travis had guns drawn. This wasn't looking very happy.

"Travis, this is how you handle a man of Dr. Jackson's temperament." Daniel looked uneasily at him. "Dr. Jackson, I recognize that threatening you will do us no good. You regard yourself, erroneously, as expendable. However, if I were to threaten someone else, say, Robert Makepeace . . ."

"Now wait just a minute," Robert exclaimed, but Stu raised his gun to his head and Robert fell silent.

Daniel stared in shock. "You're bluffing."

"I'm not," Connors replied. "Sit down there and translate that text, or I will have Makepeace shot."

Daniel shook his head, appalled. The day before, they'd been working with Robert, maybe with some friction but still working with him. Now they were going to shoot him? This was insane.

"Don't do it, Jackson," Robert said.

Out of the corner of Daniel's eye he saw Connors nod. Travis got a wicked grin on his face, and before Daniel could do more than shout no, he'd aimed and fired his gun, shooting Makepeace in the calf. Robert cried out and collapsed. Daniel started towards him, but Connors caught his arm. "No, Dr. Jackson. That was just a little demonstration to show that we are in earnest. If you don't start translating now, the next shot will be to his head."

Daniel stared for a moment at Robert, then walked over and sat down. He looked unseeing at the document in front of him for a moment, then took in a deep breath. It was in something like Etruscan. He started to get up to grab a reference.

"Where are you going?" Connors asked suspiciously.

"I need a book," Daniel said.

"Which book?"

Daniel blinked at him. "I think it's green. I could undoubtedly find it quicker myself." Connors glared, but he stepped back. Daniel found the book. This all felt very unreal. Robert was groaning on the floor while Stu bound the wound. "He needs a doctor," Daniel said.

"He'll get one, later. Once we have something to demonstrate that you're in earnest."

"He'll lose all value as a hostage if you let him bleed to death," Daniel growled.

"He won't bleed to death, Dr. Jackson. Get to work."

Daniel spared a glance for Robert, but then he settled down at the table and started working as quickly as he could. He didn't know what to do. This situation was wacko, but he couldn't let them kill Robert.

"Daniel," Robert ground out, and Daniel turned towards him. "Don't," he said.

"Gag him!" Connors said and Travis stuffed something into his mouth. Daniel turned away and started working again. If Makepeace had been in contact with Jack, then Jack knew something about where they were. All he had to do was stay alive and keep Makepeace alive until Jack found them.


End file.
