Things That Go Bump
by Carrie

“We need a medical team!” Jack shouted as the iris closed behind him, eyeing Daniel and Carter’s slow descent down the ramp. He knew their upright positions belied the fact something was most definitely wrong with one of them, making his shouts all the more vociferous. “NOW!”

The protests which typically came from his injured friend were noticeably absent, and despite the flurry of noise and activity in the ‘gateroom the silence was overpowering. Teal’c brushed by him, heading straight for Daniel’s position, his expeditiousness a powerful give away of concern. Jack could sense Hammond’s confused eyes staring at him from the control room, and he turned his face upward to give his CO a hasty shrug to let him know this wasn’t a life or death situation. He hoped.

“Sam?”

“I’m fine, Janet. It’s Daniel. He’s…”

Jack whipped his attention back to the base of the ramp, where Doctor Fraiser now joined the rest of his teammates. Swallowing, he clomped down to take up his place next to Daniel while Carter laid it out for the doc. Never in a million years would he have thought he’d wish for the younger man to spout of a huge diatribe of information. Hell, right now he’d be satisfied to get an ‘I’m fine, will you stop fussing?’ That wasn’t going to happen today. At least the godawful noiseless gagging had stopped.

None of them had seen it coming, and he couldn’t even really blame Daniel this time. The archaeologist had been standing right next to him, minding his own business, when he had just started choking. Instantly thinking the other man had inhaled one of the dandelion puff things floating all around them, Jack had laughed and shaken his head. It was only after the gagging failed to subside that he had realized Daniel really had swallowed one, and the fluff wasn’t nearly as harmless as it appeared. Panicked, wide eyes had sobered him up as quickly as the hand clutching at his sleeve.

Leaping into action, it had been Carter who had managed to calm Daniel down enough to conduct a brief examination, counseling him to rely on breathing through his nose. The archaeologist’s throat had nearly closed over, tonsils kissing each other. They hadn’t been able to determine any other effects, though Jack confessed by that point he hadn’t really cared too much—his own trip down tonsillitis memory lane had been enough to get them moving. Daniel had mimed that he was okay, in the way someone who can’t breathe very well through mouth or nose is okay, so Jack hadn’t felt outright urgency in returning to the SGC. Fast movement would only make breathing more difficult for Daniel, and he had known there was no way Daniel would submit to being carried.

They all had carefully kept their mouths shut while bagging a couple of samples, before making the return trip in quick and uneventful time. And very quiet. He would have thought the lack of chatter would have been a welcome change, but it had only served to increase his anxiety. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possibility the same strange paralysis and inflammation that had happened to Daniel’s throat might make its way to the nasal passages, leading inevitably to death.

He still couldn’t, even as he watched the doc do her stuff.

“Doesn’t look too serious, Daniel. I’ll even spare you the complimentary ride up to the infirmary. I think you can manage on your own,” Doctor Fraiser said, sounding very calm, cool and collected.

Daniel’s emphatic nod had Jack almost laughing again, and he began to feel better about the situation. If the doc wasn’t worried and spitting out orders left and right, chances are this was just some fluke thing that would resolve itself in time. Tomorrow morning, Daniel would probably be bouncing off the walls and demanding to go back to good old P9F 746 to continue the interrupted mission. Equipped with masks, of course. He sauntered his way toward the door, ready for a quick shower after a quick debriefing with the general.

“General, I’d like to check them all over before you debrief them.”

Ah, crap. The words halted him at the doorway, and he barely resisted banging his head on the frame. Just once, he’d like to be able to skip the torturous post mission exam, limit the number of debriefings to the one with Hammond. Oy. The mental connections he’d just tangled were so not right. Jack hoped he could convince the doc to speed up the exams, because suddenly he wanted that shower right away. The petite doctor whizzed right by him, heading for the elevators with a mute Daniel firmly in her grasp. He smirked as the younger man shot him a pleading look. He probably should take pity on the archaeologist, speak for him, but now the concern was fading he was starting to enjoy this new silence. There was a definite positive aspect to it…and definite possibilities.

“Hey, Doc! Wait up,” Jack called, jerking quickly to catch up with the pair.

“Something I can help you with, Colonel?” Fraiser asked, suspicion palpable. Daniel’s lost puppy look mutated into caution for some reason, and Jack cringed. “Do you have more information regarding Daniel’s condition that I should know about?”

“No, ah, I’m just concerned is all. I want to be around when you figure out what the deal is.”

“And you’re implying I’d keep you in the dark?”

Great, PMS time in the infirmary. They really should look into staffing the medical unit with more men.

“I can’t believe you just…grrr,” Fraiser growled at him, and Daniel rolled his eyes dramatically as the tiny woman shoved Jack away from the opening elevator, ushered herself and the archaeologist in, then closed the door before he had the chance to regain his footing.

Oh, shit. He had said that out loud?

“I think I speak for women everywhere when I say that was quite possibly the dumbest thing any man has ever said,” Carter stated coldly. He spun around to find her and Teal’c staring at him. She added as an afterthought, “With all due respect, of course.”

“Indeed. You have also caused a delay in our journey to the infirmary, O’Neill,” Teal’c rumbled.

Faced with riding up the few floors with two obviously irritated people, Jack eyed the stairwell door for about a millisecond before deciding that was a much more pleasant option. Not bothering to say anything, he waved a hand, took off down the corridor and was through the door before the ice in the air got any thicker. Or colder. For crying out loud, it wasn’t as if he’d done or said something completely unforgivable. What man hadn’t had that thought at one time or another? And besides, Daniel wasn’t in any danger. There was no reason to rush to the infirmary, aside from just wanting to get the poking and prodding over with.

Oh. Right. He knew Teal’c really didn’t enjoy the post mission exams any more than he did, not after that time loop thingy. Jack sighed as his knee protested even a couple of flights of stairs, the sound echoing in the empty stairwell. Wondering how he could get his team back on his side, he sidled into the corridor on level twenty-one at the same moment the elevator deposited Carter and Teal’c there. He jogged to catch up with them, receiving an unsurprisingly frosty welcome. Quite the contradiction of terms. It looked as though he was going to have to buy them back. And Fraiser. Hell, at least he hadn’t pissed Daniel off, too. Not yet anyway but the day was still young. He figured they’d get some free time due to this little setback; maybe he’d invite them all over for a nice barbecue. Even if Daniel couldn’t talk, he could still eat. Right? The more he thought about it, the more convinced Jack became that this was a good idea.

And he couldn’t be the only one who would find the idea of having a get-together without the worry of Daniel spouting off every other minute downright appealing. Feeling a dopey grin spread across his face, Jack thought of all the things he could do and say to irritate the younger man. Without the threat of lengthy and whiny verbal comebacks, he would be in seventh heaven. Oh, he knew that once Daniel regained his voice, he’d be in the doghouse…but it would be so worth it. He’d have to be careful, though, knowing Carter and Teal’c would readily come to Daniel’s defense and gang up on him if he overstepped the boundaries. He’d just save the best zingers for when he and Daniel were alone. Problem solved.

“So, in light of our unexpected downtime, I was thinking of having a barbecue tonight. Anyone interested?” he proposed, perching on the gurney Fraiser had pointed him to. Carter and the good doctor gave him identically sour looks, Teal’c's face was downright skeptical, and Daniel darted his gaze away quickly in avoidance. “I’ll take the silence as a no. Except in Daniel’s case, of course.”

He certainly wasn’t about to beg, at least not verbally. But he wasn’t opposed to playing pathetic—that usually worked on Daniel and Carter. Once he had them snagged in, Teal’c and Fraiser were bound to follow. Sighing, Jack slumped his shoulders and fixed his eyes on the floor in dejection. Activity carried on around him, the rest of them apparently oblivious to his Academy Award winning performance. Unnerved, he sneaked a glance around in time to see Daniel gesturing toward him with a pitying, hopeful look at Carter. He smirked when she scowled and gave an abbreviated nod.

“Actually, sir, that sounds…nice. Count me in.”

He whipped his head fully up and plastered a grateful smile across his face. Carter’s hard jaw relaxed ever so slightly, victim of the O’Neill charm. “Great! Teal’c, what about you?”

“You will refrain from using excess charcoal and lighter fluid when you char the meat?” the Jaffa asked, apparently dubious.

“Teal’c, you wound me. I’ll use the gas grill just for you.”

“Very well.”

“Daniel?”

“Daniel may go only if I clear him, Colonel. Major Carter said his throat was almost closed off, and I think it would be cruel and unusual of you to throw back beer and burgers when he can’t eat,” Doctor Fraiser cut in, dampening his mood with a dose of reality. And she still appeared peeved as she yanked Daniel’s mouth open and shone her penlight into it.

“Of course,” he placated her, following it up with a concerned look at Daniel. The younger man pulled his head out of Fraiser’s grip to spit into a bedpan, a mortified expression on his face. Jack grimaced, remembering how he’d left a trail of spittle in their wake during the hike back to the ‘gate. “What about you and Cass? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“She’s a teenager, Colonel. I doubt she’d want to spend an evening with her mother, three other adults and an aging Air Force officer,” she said coolly, reinserting a tongue depressor into Daniel’s mouth and continuing with her task.

Ooh. Ouch.

“Hammond’s coming?” Jack quipped.

“I’m coming where?”

Speak of the devil and he shall come. Jack really hoped the general hadn’t heard Fraiser’s old age line along with his remark. And he hoped Hammond wouldn’t join them; he could never tease Daniel to the full extent of his capabilities with the general present. As if reading his mind, the doc looked up and smiled sweetly. He knew he was in trouble.

“Colonel O’Neill has just invited us all to his house tonight. Food and drink on him. I’m sure that invitation extends to you as well.”

“Well, you know I don’t usually fraternize with my people, but that sounds nice,” Hammond agreed amicably.

Of course it did. The world was out to ruin his good time.

Shifting his eyes over to his intended victim, he saw Daniel rub his throat with careful fingers and cautiously swallow. The younger man’s expression was one of extreme worry and Jack reconsidered his planned course of action, realizing just how disconcerting this all must be for the archaeologist. Hell, it had spooked the crap out of him until his inappropriate humor got in the way. Imagining spending the rest of his life without a voice was not pleasant. Daniel looked up and caught his eye, swallowing again. Any remaining mischief of Jack’s disappeared completely at the forlorn appearance of his friend.

Wait a minute…

“Daniel just swallowed!” he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning five startled stares. Feeling his face turn pink, Jack shrugged. “Twice. That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’d say so. The swelling is now negligible,” Fraiser announced, giving Daniel a small smile. “Can you try to say something for me, Daniel?”

All eyes moved to the archaeologist, and Daniel started moving his lips in immediate compliance. No sound projected. Disappointment ripped across his friend’s features, and Jack felt another sympathetic pang. What exactly had he found humorous about this situation? He reconsidered the party idea, thinking a gathering would just be salt in Daniel’s wounds. The other man would probably prefer to be alone if Fraiser cleared him to leave the infirmary, not surrounded by people. Laughing and talking people. The instant the thought had completed in his brain, he dismissed it. That was pretty much declaring anyone who was mute would naturally want to be alone. Ludicrous.

“It’s only temporary,” he said, as if saying it would make it true. “We’ll have a nice evening and in the morning everything will be back to normal.”

“Well, I hope that’s the case, Colonel,” Doctor Fraiser said softly, suddenly not seeming nearly as irritated with him. She cleared her throat and gave them all a quick glance. “I’m going to turn you over to my staff while I run some tests on Daniel. Hopefully I’ll have some answers in a couple of hours. Sam, if you could leave those samples?”

Dismissed, he, Carter and Teal’c were shuttled away from Daniel. The doctor’s quiet voice followed them away, but Jack heard only the answering silence.

“What? I think it’s a great idea. Fraiser said she has no way to gauge how long this could last, and I’m getting tired of having to ask you yes and no questions. For crying out loud, it’s only been four hours and I’m already going nuts!”

Had he been asked this morning, Jack never would have guessed he’d be standing in the middle of a grocery store having, literally, an one-sided argument with Daniel. The crazy thing was he was right, he was so undeniably right, and he was still losing. Against someone who couldn’t even vocally argue back! Daniel kept looking at him with the most stubbornly set jaw he’d ever seen, refusing to give even a little. Here he’d thought this predicament would be a great source of amusement for himself. Boy, had he been foolish.

It wasn’t as though he were suggesting something ridiculous here, either. He winced as the other man mouthed ‘You’re going nuts?’, waving a hand at his own chest in legitimate indignation. Daniel’s agitation was blatant, and it was drawing several curious stares from fellow shoppers. Of course, he knew he himself was coming off as the bad guy in the scenario, the intolerant Neanderthal to Daniel’s sympathetic victim. Knowing that wasn’t the case at all didn’t make him feel any better.

Calmly meeting the eyes of each onlooker as if daring them to say something, Jack took a deep breath before soothing, “Look Daniel, I’m sorry. But you have to see my point. This is the most cost efficient way to solve the problem and since this is all short term anyway, I don’t see the harm. When you’re done with it, we can even stick it to your office door for when you’re not there.”

He flipped the message board into the shopping cart with finality and flourish. Argument over, victor crowned. Daniel’s attention was focused on the item he found so offensive, scowling deeply. Not understanding what the big deal was, Jack shrugged. “At least I won’t make you wear it on a string around your neck. I mean, you’ve got to retain your dignity. Now, onto the real decision—brats or Polish sausages?”

Launching himself for the small whiteboard, Daniel tore off the plastic wrapper and scribbled furiously for a second before thrusting it into his hands. Lifting it up, Jack read silently, ‘Tofu, and bite me!’

“Glad you’ve seen the light. That wasn’t so bad, was it? And I’m assuming you’re being snide about the tofu; it’s travesty enough I have to use the gas grill. Ah, brats it is.”

Daniel waved both arms in the air in exasperation. Jack knew one thing—coming out of this, he’d never again underestimate the importance of body language. Reading lips or scrawled messages to understand what the other man was saying was so unnecessary as Daniel stalked away from him. How second grade. He should have made the archaeologist drive with him instead of separately. He called out after the retreating figure, “So I guess I’ll meet you at my house!”

He actually didn’t know why he’d insisted Daniel help him stock up for the evening’s festivities anyway. In the hours since their return from P9F 746, Daniel’s mood had grown increasingly foul, the impact of his lost speech far-reaching; he was obviously finding it hard to get used to. Every time the younger man had opened his mouth to say something during the debriefing, all present had visibly responded in sympathy. If Jack were in the same situation, he knew that reaction would only make him more aware of the problem and more frustrated. He’d thought getting Daniel to participate in ‘ordinary’ activities would help him re-balance. Evidently it hadn’t worked.

Rolling the cart to the checkout line, he absently watched each item being scanned and bagged. He handed over his cash card with equal inattentiveness, again wondering if this little party was such a good idea. Of course, who was to say Daniel would even show up? It was the other man’s prerogative to come or not. Jack hoped Daniel decided to come. For some reason, it made him uncomfortable to think about Daniel being alone in his apartment, voiceless. Alone and voiceless was a combination that just boded ill, and if anything bad were to happen under those circumstances, it would definitely happen to his friend.

He loaded up the truck, laughing at himself for the unfounded speculation. Nothing was going to happen in a short twelve-hour period in the man’s own home. He drove, grinning when he saw a familiar car parked in front of his house. Daniel greeted him in the garage, bestowing him a sheepish grin and snagging a few bags. Following him into the kitchen, the other man set the groceries on the counter before heading out the front door. He came back with an armful of books and papers. About to issue a protest, Jack halted as Daniel rummaged for the message board.

‘Only if it gets to be too much.’ The archaeologist’s eyes pleaded for understanding.

“That’s fair. Just put that stuff in a corner somewhere; I don’t think you’ll need it,” Jack said, nodding. “We’ll keep you entertained. Want a beer?”

Crinkling his nose, Daniel shook his head just as the doorbell rang. The other man raised a finger in the air before Jack could move, taking off to answer it. Watching him go, Jack had to smile. All things considered and early crossness aside, his friend was holding together very well. He was tempted to suggest Daniel try to speak again, reconsidering when he thought how disappointed everyone would be if nothing had changed. No, the doc was right; Daniel should hold off until the morning re-examination. Give the inexplicably paralyzed vocal chords time to loosen on their own schedule, providing that particular end result was in the schedule at all. Jack frowned.

Looking up as Daniel led Carter, Teal’c, Fraiser and General Hammond into the kitchen—were they traveling in a herd now?—Jack really and truly regretted ever considering using the younger man’s sudden physical challenge as a platform for his own shits and giggles. Besides the fact it would have been tacky, it was always much more fun to tease someone when they could fight right back. Especially Daniel.

“Okay, people. I may have invited you all here, but don’t think I’m not going to make you work,” Jack announced. The tension he’d unintentionally provoked earlier in the day had dissipated, all his guests completely relaxed. Even Fraiser didn’t look mad at him anymore; thank God he always kept a box of chocolates in his office for emergency situations. She must have enjoyed them. “Doc, if you wouldn’t mind tossing the salad? Carter, Teal’c, you’re on the grill. General, would you like a beer? And Daniel, you make the best burgers, so—the meat…and the tofu.”

The younger man gave him a swift, surprised look and near smile, accepting the token offering to finalize the peace between them. It didn’t matter if Jack still didn’t fully understand what had upset Daniel in the first place, it was enough that something had. Most likely, it had been lasting tension from the voice thing. When Daniel found out there wasn’t really any tofu among the groceries the story might change, so he seized two beers from the fridge and guided the general out of the kitchen.

“A message board! Hey, that was a good idea, Daniel!” he heard Carter exclaim. There was a long pause and then her voice again, puzzled, “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jack snickered once as Carter flew past him and the general, heading for the patio at breakneck speed. Teal’c followed the major out of the kitchen somberly, moving more quickly than usual himself. Picturing Daniel calling up Satan’s minions at his 2IC’s innocent comment, he had to feel a bit bad about being the indirect cause for the scalding. Only a smidgen, though. He turned around, poking his head back through the kitchen door long enough to flash Daniel a satisfied smirk. The younger man had apparently expected it, because he was holding up the board, a fair drawing of a hand…more accurately a palm…covering the entire surface.

“Talk to the hand? Wouldn’t it have been easier to do that with your actual hand?” Jack teased, instantly made aware of the reason for the younger man’s choice as the board was dropped and he was the recipient of a two handed flip-off. Fraiser joined in the salute impertinently. “Hey! Superior officer, here.”

“We’re off duty. And if Daniel’s got grounds to flip a double bird, then I can only assume the reason is good enough for me to lend a hand. Or finger, as the case may be.”

“Let me know if you figure out what that is!”

He grinned, pleased this was turning out so well after all and re-joined Hammond on the way to the backyard. There, they found Carter and Teal’c staring at his grill as if it were an alien. It wasn’t turned on, and it didn’t look as though they were close to figuring it out. Amazed that two intelligent people could be so dense he brushed by them, depositing his bottle of beer in Carter’s hand as he fired it up. When he turned back, Carter was reclined on one of his deck chairs and drinking his beer. Teal’c raised an eyebrow with mirth, and even the general had a smug look on his face.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Smiling at them ruefully, Jack went back into the house to retrieve another beer, the meat, Daniel and Fraiser. He could take them all on if he had to, though he wondered nervously if they were retaliating against his earlier foot in the mouth faux pas or the unhatched plot to torment Daniel. Quickly deciding he didn’t really care either way, he hustled the remaining two guests outside, trailing after them with the platter of brats and burgers ready to be cooked.

The evening carried on as it would have normally, Daniel’s absent voice really not terribly noticeable. Jack was more than a little impressed with the skill with which the younger man managed to get his message across with gestures and slow, silent enunciation. He noted Daniel used the whiteboard only as a last resort, his aversion to it still a mystery. Carter, on the other hand, took to the thing like a fish to water and coerced them all to play ‘Win, Lose or Draw’, with Daniel being the full time designated artist. It was silly, clean fun that he never in a million years would admit he’d partaken in.

Time flew and before any of them realized it, it was pushing midnight. Yawning, Jack unsubtly used that and other overt signs of exhaustion as a means to kick his guests out, Daniel lingering behind for a minute to present him with a ‘Thanks, Jack’ message on the whiteboard.

“You’re welcome. You should take that home, you know. I hope it’s not the case, but you might need it tomorrow,” Jack advised, immediately earning a frown. “What? Why do you hate that thing so much?”

‘Makes me feel more helpless,’ Daniel wrote, looking down for a second. He rubbed out those words with a swipe of his hand, replacing them with, ‘That’s stupid, I know.’

“No, it’s not. Daniel, you can’t worry about this. It’s only been a few hours; it’s not permanent.”

‘So you keep saying.’

“And I never lie. Now, get the hell out of here so I can go to bed!” Jack ordered, smiling and pointing to the door. “Don’t speed on the way home. Somehow I don’t think a cop would appreciate your Marcel Marceau impression.”

Smiling to himself, Daniel left and Jack locked the door behind him. He stretched his arms wide, finding he really was exhausted. Switching off all the lights, he padded to the master bathroom and busily set about getting ready for a good night’s sleep. The persistent smell of citronella and cooked meat tickled his nose, and he suddenly felt the need for a quick rinse-off. Stripping, he hopped into the shower and scrubbed away the smells with efficiency. He turned off the water, pulled a towel from the rack and dried as he walked into the bedroom, flicking both rooms’ lights off. Fumbling into a pair of boxers, he sank into bed with a long exhalation. It always amazed him the days in which he did very little often made him more tired than the most extreme missions. Closing his eyes, he drifted closer to sleep.

He had about ten minutes of hazy relaxation, then he heard it. Eyes popping open, he stared at the ceiling in startlement, now wide awake. Holding his breath as if that would enable him to hear better, Jack waited and listened in case he was mistaken. A faint but distinct shuffle and bump came from the…foyer, moving to the den. Senses on high alert, he rolled out of bed, donned a T-shirt and some pajama bottoms and collected his Beretta from the nightstand. He got halfway to the door before he reconsidered, heading back to quietly call the police.

“Yeah, I need to report an intruder,” Jack whispered, following up with his address.

“Sir, you need to stay where you are. If your closet is big enough, I want you to go into it and wait for the police to handle the situation. Do not engage the perpetrator. Do you understand?”

“Sure.” He hung up, shaking his head.

Right. His customarily peaceful neighborhood had experienced a rash of break-ins the past couple of months, and he’d actually been hoping the bastards would target him when he was Earthbound so he could take care of them once and for all. Like hell he was going to sit up here while the cops let them get away yet again; he could have them bagged before the authorities arrived. Mind made up, Jack crept stealthily down the dark hallway, clicking the gun’s safety off and holding it at the ready. Aside from a few insignificant rustling sounds that most people wouldn’t have even picked up on, the thief—and there surprisingly was only one, he discovered—was very quiet. Capably so. Jack was almost impressed.

He edged toward the doorway, tucking himself to one side where he’d wait for the guy to come to him. Soft footfalls warned him, and he tightened his muscles in preparation. The instant the man crossed the threshold, Jack was on him. Fighting back with moderate skill, the prowler landed an elbow directly to his stomach and he huffed a pained breath. He heard faint fluttering and a small thud as whatever was in the man’s hands fell to the floor. He hesitated in confusion at the strange sounds, and something else struck him. Something familiar, but intangible. The pause cost him—the would-be thief wrenched out of his grasp, stumbling a few steps and jarring the Beretta from his hand. His finger flinched; the gun rang out explosively.

There was no cry of pain, the dull sound of a body crumpling heavily was enough to prove the bullet had hit. The clattering of the gun hitting the floor was the only other sound. Ears ringing, Jack leaned down to try to hear anything at all. His foot kicked something, sending it skittering across the floor with a metallic jangle. Keys? And then, beneath the sharp tang of the gun’s smoke, he smelled it. Citronella and cooked meat. Silence…oh God. Ohshitohgod.

“Daniel!”

Turning on the light revealed proof of his sins; Jack lunged for his unmoving friend and gently turned him over. Prayed for a miracle. Got damnation. Blood slicked the right side of Daniel’s chest and abdomen, the scent of it suddenly dominating his olfactory senses. In spite of himself, he gagged. This couldn’t be real, it didn’t make any sense.

“Oh, shit. Daniel, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here!” he heard himself murmuring, the ringing in his ears increasing rather than decreasing. Cotton in his head, muffling and suffocating. Panicking, panicking, he needed to calm down.

Phone. Call an ambulance. Making a mad dash for it, Jack heard the sirens from his first emergency call approaching, though they sounded low and distorted. Sirens? No, cops would have wanted stealth. Just like he had. Gunshot…neighbors must have called…Shit. He raced back to his friend’s side, pressing his hands to the wound. Press, press on it, stop the blood flow. There was so much already, soaking into the scattered papers surrounding Daniel. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening again. A cold hand clumsily fell on top of his. Almost startled back to composure, Jack lifted his gaze to Daniel’s face for the first time and saw the other man was still conscious. Blue eyes, pupils dilated and shocky. Mouth working silently to pull in air, lips already purpling. God. Dying. Daniel.

“You’re going to be okay, you have to be. Godfuckingdamnit, Daniel, what are you doing here?” Jack whispered. “What have I done? Hang on, just hang on.”

The eyes started to lose even more focus, the hand slipped away. But words formed on purpling lips, clear and cruel and so silent. ‘Not your fault.’

Wrong.

Wrapping the floss behind her left back molar, Sam wriggled it down as far as she could before releasing it with a snap. She dropped the used piece of waxy string into the garbage can and left the bathroom, yawning sleepily. Red meat and beer almost always made her drowsy. Going in to the colonel’s impromptu party, she’d doubted she’d have much fun and had only agreed to go to please poor Daniel. The perturbation with her commanding officer had diminished as the night progressed, to the point she almost forgot about the irritating comments he’d made regarding Janet and women in general. Almost. As much as she enjoyed working with that man, he could be downright insensitive sometimes. Uber male.

She snuggled beneath the covers, reaching out a hand to turn out the light. It had actually ended up being a nice evening, she thought. She smiled at the memory of Daniel frantically drawing the Grand Tetons, shooting the colonel nasty looks at every tasteless observation that sprang from his mouth and making her CO squirm like a naughty child. Priceless. Even without voice, Daniel could say so much. Tucking her arm to her side, Sam closed her eyes with the smile still set on her face. She knew Daniel would get his voice back, but tonight had demonstrated even if he didn’t, things would be just fine.

Then the phone rang, harsh and loud in the soft silence of night. Her heart raced in automatic response, eyes flying open to check the clock even though she knew what time it was. No one ever called in the middle of the night with good news. Mark? Nancy? The kids? Horrible images of car crashes and illness flooded her mind as she groped for the lamp switch and phone at the same time.

“Hello?” she greeted, bracing for the worst.

“Major Carter?”

“General Hammond?” Relief replaced the fear. Something was happening at the SGC. That she could handle. That was normal. “Thank goodness it’s just you. Not that…I mean, I thought…”

“It’s not good, Sam,” the general cut her off, voice low. Sam. He had called her Sam. Stomach twisting, she sat all the way up and swung her feet to the floor. “I just received a call from Colonel O’Neill. There’s been some kind of accident.”

“Oh, God. Is he okay? What happened?” she breathed, already moving to get dressed. Her mind raced, wondering what could possibly have happened to warrant notification in the middle of the night. A mere thirty minutes after they’d all left the colonel’s house.

“He’s fine. It’s Doctor Jackson. I don’t have details, but Jack said something about him being shot. They took him to Memorial. I’m on my way to get Teal’c, then we’re going to the hospital. I’d like Doctor Fraiser there as well. Do you feel up to calling her for me?” Hammond imparted quickly, professionally sharp as always.

Shot? She froze in place, her own voice becoming mute as Daniel’s had been. Was. After a few seconds, she managed to give him a shaky affirmative, hanging up and punching Janet’s speed dial button. Words tumbled out of her mouth. She didn’t even know if she was being coherent but she didn’t wait to verify, clicking the phone off and letting it clatter onto the nightstand. Sam shook her head to clear the confusion and tried to regain a modicum of the military cool she usually exhibited. This was a misunderstanding—a minor incident blown out of proportion because of the earlier stressful events. Daniel was just fine.

Repeating those words to herself all the way to the hospital had her almost believing them by the time she arrived. It was easy to think the colonel might be overreacting, perhaps misinterpreting slight distress into something else because of Daniel’s unusual muteness. Slight distress? Sam pulled into the lot of the hospital, slamming on the brakes with undue force as she found a parking space, a physical reaction to her idiotic thoughts. Shot. General Hammond said Daniel had been shot. God, how could she even consider that could be minimized?

He’d stayed behind at the colonel’s house when the rest of them had left. Remembering what her CO had mentioned about crime in his neighborhood, Sam envisioned Daniel somehow getting in a burglar’s way. Maybe he had stayed long enough behind to witness someone breaking in and did the Daniel thing and tried to stop it. No, that didn’t make sense. No good thief would attack while there were still people around. Speculation was useless. All that mattered was finding out Daniel’s true condition and making sure the colonel was okay. She hoped he’d gotten the bastards responsible. Slamming her palm against the steering wheel, she jumped out of her car and raced into the emergency room. Straight away, her eyes scanned the waiting area, searching for Colonel O’Neill. Recognizing no one, she strode to the desk to ask for information.

Midway to the desk, she saw something out of the corner of her eye that made her halt. Statue still, almost marble white and clad in pajamas, the colonel sat in the middle of a long row of blue plastic chairs, a flurry of other agitated friends and family members waiting for their own verdicts surrounding him. She must have looked right past him, and it was easy to see why. The man on the bench didn’t resemble her CO even remotely. His attire worked with his expression, making him appear lost and small. Frowning at his clear state of shock, evidenced by a vacant thousand-yard stare, she veered toward him. More worry crept up, for him and for Daniel. As she approached, crimson grabbed her attention and directed her gaze to his hands. There was tacky blood all over them, more smeared on his shirt and pants.

Swearing to herself, Sam crouched down in front of him and tried to pull him out of the shock by touching a knee. No reaction, and she suddenly found her throat tight. She wanted to get that blood off his hands. Why the hell wasn’t someone here helping him? A doctor…a nurse. Anyone.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me? What happened?” she whispered, so very afraid of hearing an answer and so very afraid of why he didn’t seem physically able to say anything. “Daniel?”

At Daniel’s name, the colonel swallowed and blinked before he turned dark, haunted eyes to look at her. Not at her. Right through her. Sam shivered. He remained silent, and she started to ask about Daniel again. Stopping before even starting, she realized it would do little good. It was bad, and that was obvious. She’d never seen him reduced to this level of uncommunicativeness, even on some of their most…memorable missions. Thinking about how only an hour or so ago he’d been laughing and joking made this new version of him all the worse. She clenched her jaw, cursing the staff here for not seeing his suffering and helping him.

“Sam?” a soft-spoken voice called to her, and she jumped. Twisting around, Sam blinked up into another pair of dark eyes, these filled with deep concern. “What do you know?”

“Nothing, Janet. I asked him but can’t get him to talk,” Sam whispered, not knowing why she was doing such a thing. That tone was one used by mourners at a funeral—quiet, unobtrusive, somehow incongruous and appropriate at the same time. She cleared her throat and stood up, raising her voice to a normal level. “I just got here, actually, and was going to see what I could find out from the colonel first. I was about to go ask someone.”

“Let me. Then I’ll help you get Colonel O’Neill cleaned up,” Janet said. The petite woman shot a worried look at the motionless man, her understanding of the severity of the situation apparent. Sam awkwardly shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the idea they were talking about the man as though he weren’t there. “In the meantime, see if you can find some water for him to drink.”

Sam took a moment to admire the other woman’s ability to stem personal concern for professionalism. Taking a deep breath, she tried to mirror both Janet and General Hammond to rein in her rampaging emotions, darting her eyes around the busy lobby. She spotted a drinking fountain with a Dixie cup dispenser fixed on the wall next to it. Almost ashamedly relieved to have something to focus on other than her nearly catatonic CO and Daniel’s unknown condition, she took off for it with purpose. A part of her still clung to the hope this wasn’t as bad as every other ounce of her being was telling her it was.

Filling a ridiculously cheery, florally decorated paper cup with water, Sam looked down to find her hand shaking. So much for getting control of her feelings. Her body wouldn’t even cooperate. She ground her teeth together and turned around, seeking Janet out. Seeing the other woman’s rigid stance, she could only venture to guess the news was horrible or Janet was running into a brick wall. The desk clerk looked unremittingly stubborn and downright closed-off, not favorable traits by any means. In this instance, though, Sam was glad the brick wall was the source of Janet’s frustrations.

Janet’s voice boomed across the room, angry, “Daniel Jackson is my patient, and I have every right to know what his initial prognosis is! Actually, I should be allowed to see him at once.”

Okay, so maybe the doctor wasn’t handling her emotions so well. Sam hesitated on her path back to the colonel, wondering if her services might be needed for Janet and then saw the other woman being led back into bowels of the ER. She continued on and found her CO had changed positions, elbows resting on his knees. Hunched over, he looked even smaller and decrepit. Wrong. The stained fingers of both hands spread out across his forehead, thumbs nesting right in front of his ears and his face was hidden from view, those tormented eyes seeming to cower in the cave of his hands. Cautiously sitting down in the chair next to him, she watched for any movement or indication he was ready to talk. There was nothing. She nudged the cup of water closer to him.

“Sir? Janet says you should drink this,” Sam said, hoping persistence would pay off eventually. Her gut told her she needed to throw her arms around him and hug him close, but she was afraid what reaction that move might gain so she just sat. “Don’t you want to go wash your hands, sir?”

The colonel jerked hard enough at the suggestion to make her own chair reverberate. Water spilled over the edges of her cup, plopping on her thigh. It seeped from a small dot into a large dark patch, and her eyes riveted to it with strange fascination. She envisioned Daniel lying in a pool of blood, the liquid widening just as the water sought to conquer more space on her leg. Shaking her head, she forced herself to look away and cursed her morbid imagination. What was taking Janet so long? Sam eyed the corridor the SGC doctor had gone down, willing her to reappear.

Suddenly the man next to her lurched to his feet, bumping her arm and spilling more water into her lap. Startled, Sam stood up and swiveled toward him as he stalked away. Before she could call out, the colonel slammed his right palm on a door to open it and disappeared through it. Though she wanted to stay to await Janet’s return with information, she automatically followed him because she was quite sure he should really not be alone. She had the door open a crack, and then realized he had fled into the bathroom. Stupidly standing there, she peered through the two-inch space as if she could actually locate him that way. Water splashing vigorously clued her in that he had finally decided to clean up, but accompanying those sounds was something terrible. Inchoate words interspersed with soft, pained groans. Heart racing, she wondered if perhaps he had been injured but had kept it hidden. She pushed the door wider.

“Major Carter, I believe your admittance is not permitted into that room.”

She spun around, the door bumping into her butt as it shut. Teal’c and General Hammond stared at her, both faces deceptively stoic. She quickly said, “The colonel’s in there. I think something’s wrong.”

Something more.

“I will attend to O’Neill,” Teal’c announced, pushing past her to slip into the restroom. His eyes met hers for the briefest of seconds and she saw the depth of his unease clearly.

“Major, what can you tell me?” the general asked gently, guiding her away by the elbow.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Frustrated, Sam avoided looking at him, choosing instead to scan the sea of people in the lobby. Squealing babies, derelicts, young adults, old adults, some injured and others simply waiting in fear and hope. A cop, an orderly, Janet. Janet! She shook her head once at the general, waving a floppy arm toward the approaching doctor. The cop trailed after her friend and she frowned, wondering why.

“Doctor Fraiser went to find out. The colonel hasn’t been able to offer any information, so I don’t know any more than what you told me,” Sam said tiredly. Janet’s shoulders were slumped ever so slightly, making her own stomach churn. “Is this really happening?”

“I’m afraid so, Major.”

She looked at General Hammond, suddenly genuinely surprised he had come here in the middle of the night. His devotion to members of the SGC was steadfast, that was true, but he wouldn’t normally make a trip like this. Duh. The general had just spent an entire evening with them. There didn’t need to be any other reason for his presence. And this was Daniel.

“Colonel O’Neill was quite distraught when he notified me,” the general said, answering her unasked question and making her blush that she’d been so transparent. “There was something about his tone…”

“Ah, General Hammond. Major,” Janet broke in, worriedly glancing between both of them. “Where’s Colonel O’Neill? And I assume Murray is here as well?”

Janet sounded okay; Daniel must be fine. Relaxing a notch, Sam jutted a thumb the direction of the bathroom and chewed her lip nervously. She studied the doctor more closely, saw lines creasing around her mouth and eyes. Her tension returned in full force. Staring intently, she tried to gain eye contact with Janet and failed at every turn. Oh, God. Daniel? The smaller woman watched the bathroom door as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing.

“Yes, Murray came with me. Major Carter indicated the colonel was in the bathroom, so he went in to see if everything was all right. How’s Doctor Jackson?”

“It’s really too soon to say. Sir, perhaps I should wait with the details until the others can join us?”

No, now, she wanted to scream. Tell us now! She heard herself give a sigh as General Hammond acceded to Janet’s suggestion, sinking down onto an open chair and closing his eyes. Sam anxiously wondered why the police officer, tall and grim looking, was lingering around with them.

“Didn’t you already take the colonel’s statement?” she pressed.

“He was less than forthcoming at the scene and the victim is unable to provide me with any information at this time,” the cop said, expression unreadable. Oh, God. Did that mean Daniel was really bad, or was it just referencing his muteness? Sam flitted her eyes to Janet, who looked pale and still refused to look directly at her. The officer continued talking as if unaware of the emotional distress blanketing the small group. “Even though it appears to be accidental and no criminal charges will be pressed, I still need Mr…Colonel O’Neill to clarify a few things. And yes, I realize he’s military and this could be construed as a military matter, but my records need to be accurate.”

Accidental? No charges? Sam’s mind reeled, completely confused at the officer’s words. Rubbery legs made her fumble for a chair, and she sat heavily. That didn’t make any sense. Some person had shot Daniel and was going to get off scot-free? Beside her, General Hammond bristled in equal agitation.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“No charges pressed?”

She and the general spoke at the same time, their voices almost canceling each other out. She gave him the floor.

“Why aren’t there going to be charges pressed?” the general demanded of the officer, hands curling and uncurling in his lap. “One of my people was shot tonight, and I don’t know how whomever did it could have possibly spun it to claim it an accident.”

“Sir…” Janet interjected nervously, still standing at the cop’s side. She wrapped her fingers together, forming a strange-looking bundle.

“Who shot my man? Is he here? Did Colonel O’Neill…”

“The person who shot Daniel is here,” a quiet, monotone voice joined the confusing conversation.

Sam turned to see the colonel and Teal’c emerge from the bathroom, her eyes involuntarily journeying down to her CO’s hands. They were clean, save for some traces of red beneath the fingernails. She slumped in her seat, relieved he was speaking at last. Switching her gaze to his face, she hoped to see improvement there as well but got only that same blank, disconcerting expression. All of a sudden, she didn’t want to hear him say anything. She wanted Janet to tell them all Daniel was going to be okay, removing that look from the colonel’s face as well as alleviating her own remaining concern for him. Please.

“It was me. I shot Daniel, sir.”

All the air sucked out of the room, and Sam really, truly couldn’t breathe.