Title: To Hear the Angels Sing
Author: Gatejunkie
Author Page: Gatejunkie
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 3 episodes Into the Fire, Legacy
Summary: It's Christmas but the gentlemen aren't so merry. Mistreatment at Hathor's hands continues to have an impact long after the event. Jack and Daniel try to take a break and run into trouble of an Earth-based kind.
Warnings: Attempted rape. Homophobia. Violence.
DISCLAIMER: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

"And the stockings were hung by the chimney with care," Jack sighed, looking over the deserted 'gateroom. His breath fogged the glass, slightly obscuring his image. He didn’t mind. It only reminded him of how different his circumstances were from the others in the complex…the ones who had families to visit during the holiday.

Stop it! Enough was enough. He’d enjoyed the SGC Christmas party, even laughed with Sam and Daniel over Teal’c’s fierce frown at the general in the plush Santa Claus suit. A smile tugged his lips at the memory. He couldn’t help teasing his somber friend about the outfit becoming the new SGC uniform. If possible, Teal’c seemed positively panicked at the thought of wearing red fuzz and a white beard.

Jack’s smile faded as a tickle irritated the back of his throat. "I’m not getting a cold," he muttered, turning away from the dead Stargate. Only moments before it had glowed with silvery iridescence as Teal’c left to spend a few days with his family on P3X-797. The Jaffa hadn’t completely grasped the concept of Christmas, but he’d been pleased to have time with his wife and child.

As Jack went downstairs, the image of Sam’s contented face rose in his thoughts. She was also anticipating being with her brother’s family for the holiday. He’d been amused by her chatter about the gifts she’d bought her niece and nephew. Some things never changed. The hottest toys were doubly satisfying. Children were thrilled to own them, and adults got a rush by snagging the hard-to-find items before they were sold out. Why one year Charlie wanted…

Grief clouded his vision. He gripped the cold metal stair rail as if he could force his slamming heart back into its cage. Knuckles whitened before he made himself relax and go on. Christmas was for children. He would head home to have a beer, several in fact, maybe with a Glenfarclas chaser. The liquor would kill any germ thinking about invading his system. Jack sniffled.

A cynical twist quirked his lips. If you didn’t have children, Christmas became the season for regret. Only fools forgot and enjoyed it. Fools and those who refused to grow up.

"Speaking of which," he muttered, thinking he hadn’t seen the last member of SG-1 since the middle of the party three hours ago just after Dr. McKenzie entered the room. From his position near the edge of the crowd, Daniel had flashed a bright, brittle smile when Jack glanced his way as if to say everything was fine, and his time in McKenzie's mental health spa was unimportant. The next time Jack searched for him in the crowd, the scientist had gone. He’d put it down to using the opportunity to get a few last things done before the base was deserted by all but a skeleton crew. Now, Jack wasn’t so sure. Just where did Daniel intend to spend the next few days?

Clearing his throat, he winced as the twinge worsened. He was definitely not getting sick. Jack suppressed a shiver and went in search of his missing teammate. Did Daniel have plans? Something inside his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Jack had been so consumed in hiding his own misery during the seasonal madness he hadn’t noticed the linguist had also been unusually quiet.

Catherine had invited Daniel over. Relief washed through Jack until he recalled a last minute change of plans had sent older woman and Ernest to dinner at the White House. His eyebrows drew together as a frown wrinkled his forehead.

Jack found Daniel in his artifact-crowded office. Peeking around the door, he winced. Gentle radiance from the computer screen highlighted a face displaying bleak despair. Head bowed, the younger man didn’t even pretend interest in whatever the monitor displayed. With his butchered hair, he looked like an orphan. "For cryin’ out loud…" Jack muttered softly. He rattled the handle before entering the room.

Daniel’s head snapped up, and he forced a quick smile to mask his feelings. "Hi, Jack! I thought you’d already gone."

"I’m heading out now. What are you still doing here?"

"Oh, I had to finish a few last details on the mission report for P3X-456 before I left. Didn’t want to forget anything important."

Jack studied the enthusiastic face, noting the lines of strain around the puffy eyes. When had the kid slept last? He decided to attack before Daniel could shore up defenses. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

Daniel flinched then tried to hide it. He blinked, his grin slipping a little. "Oh, you know..the usual stuff. Hanging around, eating turkey…"

"From a TV dinner and alone?"

Smile fading completely, Daniel tried to bluff with nonchalance. "Sure…. Christmas was never a big day on my calendar. I can use the time to catch up on my reading."

Decision made and a scheme already forming, Jack shook his head. "Got a better offer. Why don’t you come with me?"

"Th-that’s okay,” Daniel stammered. "Don’t let me intrude on your plans."

"Don’t really have any," Jack admitted.

"So you were gonna do the same thing I was?" Daniel tilted his head, making light glint off the lenses in his glasses.

"Yeah, except for the TV dinner part." Jack shuddered. "I hate those things. My mom always made a big deal of the holidays. Old habits die hard. I usually end up cooking a feast for myself." He watched the bright blue eyes dim a little . Great move. Remind him how his parents died when he was little and how he probably never got a home cooked meal in the orphanages.

The neutral corners of Daniel’s mouth seemed stuck in place. "Don’t worry. I’m usually by myself at Christmas. You don’t have to pity me."

Jack wanted to throttle the man. "It isn’t pity, Daniel. Did it ever occur to you the invitation might be offered because I don’t feel like being alone?"

"Oh." Embarrassment burned the tips of Daniel’s ears as he averted his gaze. "Actually, uh…no."

"Well, I don’t." Jack had intended to use the argument only to persuade his companion, but the moment the words left his lips, he realized they were true.

This time Daniel’s amused expression seemed more real. "Are you hard up for a date or what?"

Snorting, Jack shook his head. "You’re a cheap one if I remember correctly, and I don’t see anyone else around."

Merriment faded from the younger man’s face as if it had never been there. "Last resort?"

Rolling his eyes, Jack lightly punched the thin shoulder. "No, but I thought you already had plans." He scanned the cluttered office, searching for Daniel's coat. He'd need it in the mountains. "So where's your coat?" he asked, meeting his friend's puzzled gaze.

Daniel blinked, his confused expression clearly saying he couldn't understand why he would be invited.

For cryin' out loud. How can he not know he's family? Bothered by the stunned look on Daniel's face, Jack gruffly asked, "So, yes or no? Am I gonna eat a huge meal all by myself? I probably won’t be able to move around the cabin to restock the fireplace. They’ll find me frozen to death because you refused an invitation to dinner."

"Cabin?"

Making it up as he went along, Jack nodded. "Yeah, figured I didn’t want to stay around home so thought I’d go to the cabin my uncle left me when he died. It’s a couple hours' drive from here in the mountains and pretty basic. No phones except my cell. We can even go ice fishing if you want. I’m in the mood for a peaceful, white Christmas."

"You planning on playing Bing Crosby?"

Jack made a face. "I will if you do Bob Hope. So, you coming or what?"

Daniel's face reflected his unspoken conflict; longing to be with someone warred with the need to find a private space to grieve for his missing wife. As he met Jack’s gaze, his eyes softened. "Don’t want you turning into a Popsicle because you pigged out." He stood, going to the cabinet to grab his jacket. "Sure I shouldn't pick up frozen turkey dinners just in case you’ve lost the O’Neill touch?"

Jack schooled his face into an offended look even as his heart lightened. Daniel's company would keep him from being alone with his thoughts. He had to bite his lip hard not to grin with relief. "I’ll make you eat those words," he said at last, settling for a fake glower.

"They might taste better than your turkey."

Smacking the other man’s shoulder, Jack sniffed. "Just remember that when you’re begging me for seconds."

This time, Daniel’s laugh sounded genuine and matched the sparkle in his eyes.

Crispness tinged the Colorado mountain air, promising thick, flurrying snowflakes before dark. "Be back in a sec," Daniel promised, quickly zipping his jacket and shutting the Jeep’s door before any of the chill could reach his partner through the heater’s blasts.

"Okay."

O’Neill’s muffled answer made the linguist grin. He couldn't believe he’d won the argument to buy the beer even if the older man's cold was worsening. Maybe Jack mellowed when he got sick? No way. Daniel resolved to purchase Tylenol and Nyquil. Jack had piled the back of the Jeep so high with provisions it looked as though they were off to spend two weeks trekking in the Arctic instead of three days in a cabin. A simple cold remedy was probably the only thing the man had forgotten to pack.

Glancing to his left, Daniel hurried across the slippery parking lot as quickly as he could to avoid the massive semi-trucks heading his way. His boots skidded on black ice, making him do a quick shuffle-step to avoid landing on his rear. He checked the Jeep. Sure enough, Jack was laughing.

"Smart ass," Daniel muttered. From the corner of his eye, he caught the rapid movement as O’Neill sneezed. Maybe we should turn around and head for home? Medical help would be closer. He bit his lip as he imagined the soldier’s acerbic reply to the unspoken suggestion. A mere cold wouldn’t stop Jack from doing anything he wanted to do. Daniel doubted he could stop him either if he was dead set on it.

A bell tinkled as Daniel pushed open the market door. "Beer, Nyquil, Tylenol and Kleenex," he muttered to himself, grabbing a small basket. He looped the wire handles over one arm and hurried to retrieve the necessary items. If he lingered too long, Jack would bust in here and haul him out. A quirky grin tilted the corners of Daniel’s mouth as a full-blown image of Rambo O’Neill popped into his mind. Jack wasn’t the most patient of men.

Throwing the aspirin, cold medicine, and Kleenex in his basket, he remembered his friend also wasn’t the healthiest at the moment. "Maybe I should grab a couple of cans of turkey noodle soup just in case he doesn’t feel up to cooking." Two Campbell’s containers joined the other items in his basket as Daniel hurried to the liquor section. A glance at his wristwatch assured him he’d been inside less than five minutes.

The long glass expanse of the chilled case made him pause. Daniel thoughtfully pondered the selection. Exactly what brand of beer was Jack’s favorite? Casting his mind back to the first night he’d returned from Abydos, he strained to recall. Funny. Confessions and consolation were all he could remember of that evening. Emotion blurred the details. The one bright shining spot had been Jack, trying to get his mind to focus on anything besides the pain of Sha’re’s abduction. The warmth of tears unexpectedly stung Daniel’s eyes as he reached into the case and plucked two six-packs free. Their weight dragged on his arm as he carefully placed them in his basket.

"Oh, look at the fudge-packer cryin’ on the beer."

"What?" Daniel blinked, unconsciously stepping back from the rough voice. He stared at the two huge men who blocked the aisle to his left. The one with the red flannel shirt had sandy wisps of brown hair and narrow ferret eyes. His black companion was about Teal’c’s size but with a face so pock-marked it looked like he’d rolled in gravel.

"Out of my way, fag."

Sandy-hair’s work-rough fingers shoved Daniel. He crashed into the unyielding blubber of a body behind him. The unwashed oil and old cigarette odor of the man almost gagged him. Cruel fingers gripped his biceps, causing the shopping bin on his arm to tip and nearly spill.

"Looky here, Clay. Pretty-boy’s takin’ a shine to me."

"Let me go," Daniel protested, jerking away. The plastic Nyquil bottle fell from his basket, landing on the floor with a bouncing plop. His heart tripping, Daniel ignored it.

"Maybe we should take him somewhere private. Teach him some manners after he gets what he’s begging for." The black man grinned with gap-toothed delight. His voice was as craggy as his features.

"Excuse me." Daniel tried to maneuver past the two roughnecks. They shoved him, and moved closer. "Hey!" he objected as the man behind pushed him forward. Stumbling, Daniel fell against gravel face. Before he could move, a fist pounded his back. Agony exploded above his right kidney. As he tried to keep his legs from folding, nausea boiled up his throat. His teeth clenched.

"Poor little darlin’," cooed the fat one. "Eager to get on your knees?"

"What do you want?" Daniel managed to gasp, not understanding why they’d chosen him to torment. You know why. Remember when you were in college? How the jocks always thought you… With a shake of his head, Daniel negated the line of thinking.

With a blast of stale beer breath, Sandy-hair wheezed, "We want you fairies to stay in the city…or better yet…to be locked away where you belong."

"I was just leaving."

"You should’ve never come." Clay raised a meaty fist.

The racketing clack of a shotgun froze him. "That’s enough, boys! I thought I warned you about causing trouble in my store."

"We’re just having fun, Jenkins," Sandy-hair whined. Feral eyes dared Daniel to deny it.

"Don’t look so to me. You okay, son?"

Daniel nodded to his burly savior. "I will be." He shakily made his way between two of his adversaries. They looked like they wanted to trap him again, but they didn’t move.

"Next time I catch you boys having fun, I’m callin' the law. Now get your beer and git."

"Don’t know why we come in here, old man."

"I do. It’s the only market for miles."

Daniel dredged up a smile as he passed the owner. The white-haired man flanked him.

"You really okay?" He sounded as if he didn’t want any lawsuits.

"Yeah," Daniel assured him. "Thanks again for the help."

"No need for that," Jenkins said. He emptied the basket and quickly rang up the items inside.

Daniel wished he could retrieve the Nyquil but decided Jack would have to do without it. He didn’t want to face those three again. Coward. Jack would be embarrassed by the way you handled yourself back there. He never would have let those goons push him around. Shame burned Daniel's face.

"That's twenty-three sixty-seven."

Handing the store owner two twenties, Daniel wished time could slide backward. He had to stop being such a wimp. As he was handed his change, he spied Sandy-hair and Clay approaching the checkout.

"Come back soon." Jenkin’s voice held both relief and sincerity. "My store’s usually a quiet place. Those boys only come in every couple a months."

"I won’t hold their behavior against you," Daniel replied as he picked up the brown grocery bag. With a glance for the three men who’d accosted him, he said with just the right touch of O’Neill in his voice, "That’s what comes of letting brothers and sisters marry."

An inarticulate growl from nearby told him the men had heard.

Jenkin’s snort of amusement followed Daniel as he hurried from the market.

Knowing he had mere minutes before the men paid for their beer and left the store, Daniel half ran across the slippery parking lot despite the throbbing in his back. Jenkins would keep anything from happening on his premises, but what about the street? Daniel knew he’d need a head start on those creeps. Why had he tossed down the verbal gauntlet? Thank God Jack had kept the Jeep’s motor going so he could use the heater.

Jack jerked out of his doze as Daniel tossed the bag in the back seat and quickly buckled up. "Let’s go!"

"You dally around in the local market, and now you want to make up for lost time?" The soldier’s good-natured grousing sounded thicker, more nasal.

"Yeah." Daniel nervously eyed the market’s glass door. He could see the three men arguing with Jenkins inside.

"Anything wrong?"

Daniel quickly glanced at the older man. Trust Jack to suspect trouble. "Uh, no…" he hedged, "just want to find the cabin before this storm grows any worse. Besides, you don’t need to be out in the snow with your cold."

Jack flashed him a cocksure grin as he stepped on the clutch and shifted the Jeep into first. "I know what I need," he said, pulling away from the curb. "A couple of shots of whiskey and a roaring fire."

"But I only got beer," Daniel worried, covertly glancing in the side mirror. Sure enough, the three men were exiting from the store, looks of retribution on their ugly faces. They hustled to two semis. Dammit.

"You don’t think I’d leave the whiskey buying to you?" Jack sniffed. "I know what a lightweight you are. You’d probably purchase rotgut."

"Isn’t it all rotgut?" Despite his worry, Daniel couldn’t help teasing. Besides, the Jeep was zooming up the steep grade at a pace the semis couldn’t possibly match.

O’Neill rolled his eyes. "Paw Paw O'Neill, my Irish grandfather, is rolling in his grave. Gonna teach you the finer qualities of Glenfarclas. It…" A sneeze ripped from him, cutting short the praise of fine malt.

"Sounds like you need a few shots of Nyquil to me."

Jack snorted his disdain and shook his head, concentrating on the road. The snow was falling thicker and faster. Big white flakes collided in a wet mess against the windshield. He frowned as the Jeep slid sideways. His foot eased up on the gas to compensate.

"Maybe we should turn around?" Daniel nervously suggested.

"I've driven on ice before." Jack exuded confidence. His fingers gripped the wheel firmly, his whole body attuned to the vehicle’s movements.

Behind them, two semi-trucks barreled up the grade, tracking the slowing Jeep as if it were helpless prey.

"I wasn't worried," Daniel lied. A fever blush stained the older man’s cheeks, and O’Neill looked tired beyond belief. Why hadn’t he noticed it before they began this trip? Daniel gnawed his lip, wondering how he could possibly convince Jack to turn around.

A spray of slushy snow spewed over the Jeep as a semi lumbered by. White sludged on the windshield.

"Damn fool!" Jack growled, fighting the wheel as the passing truck sent a blast of air buffeting them. He braked until the wipers were able to scrape off enough powder to help him see again.

His pulse beating hard in his throat, Daniel stared with wide eyes as red taillights flashed in front of them. "Jack, look out!"

O’Neill shifted into neutral and hit the brakes. The Jeep skidded dangerously close to the railing before he managed to get it under control. "Idiot!" he cursed, preparing to maneuver around the semi even as he dropped the clutch into second. Before he could accelerate, something slammed into them.

"Shit!"

Gripping the sissy bar for dear life, Daniel agreed with Jack’s assessment as they careened toward the first truck.

"What the hell are they doing?" O’Neill downshifted, trying to slow the car to escape the deadly sandwich.

"Payback." Daniel gulped.

"What?"

Before he could say it again, the semi behind them knocked the Jeep closer to the guardrail. Daniel got a dizzying glimpse of trees dotting a snow covered drop through the gloom of the swelling storm. "Jack?"

Trapped by the huge truck ahead of them and the one now blocking his side, O’Neill gritted his teeth. He battled for control of the Jeep, but the icy asphalt made it impossible. "Hang on!" he shouted seconds before the semi pummeled the SUV.

Daniel felt the jarring impact as the metal guardrail snapped. They plunged over the embankment, hurling through the air for a brief second before crashing to the ground. His world became a confusion of shrieking metal and yells of pain. An abrupt jerk snapped him painfully against the seatbelt. Although the car's motion had stopped, the world continued to spin. Daniel's last thought before he blacked out was the realization his smart mouth had just killed his best friend.

*

Something sharp jabbed Daniel's right leg, sending burning pain into his semi-conscious state. He moaned deep in his throat.

A nearby groan echoed the sound.

Daniel ignored the physical pain hammering at him. His eyes slowly opened and closed again. Nothing made sense. Why was there blurry white all around with just the hint of dirty gray below it?

A strangled sob made him frown. How could he make a sound like that and not be aware of uttering it?

Because you didn’t, stupid.

"Jack?" Daniel croaked, his eyes opening to half slits. He wasn't alone. No reply. Looking to his left, he saw his unconscious friend. For some strange reason, blood dripped up from Jack’s head. Up? Were they on a planet with different gravity?

It took a long breath before he realized they were hanging upside down. Where? Oh. The Jeep. The accident!

"C’mon, Jack, talk to me," he pleaded. He only got another groan for his efforts. With violently shaking fingers, Daniel reached out and gently touched O’Neill’s cheek. "Jack?" Fear quickened his heart when the soldier didn’t react. Okay, it’s up to me. His fingers fumbled at the seatbelt holding him in place. As the buckle unsnapped, he crashed to the Jeep’s ceiling. Pain exploded in his leg, wringing an anguished cry from his lips when the vehicle rocked violently. "Whoa…" he whispered, afraid to move as the memory of a topsy-turvy ride down a sharp embankment popped into his mind. Would they continue to fall? Glancing to his right, he saw the long, gnarled trunk of an oak holding the Jeep in place. Beyond was another forty foot slope. At least, the storm seemed to be holding its breath, but from the fresh powder around them, he'd been unconscious for some time.

Easy does it. Daniel knew he had to get Jack out of the car. He could smell gas. Didn’t cars explode on television after accidents? Uncertain if the depiction was accurate, he decided getting them both out made the best sense. Besides, with Jack’s head injury, it probably wasn’t a good idea to leave him hanging there.

God, I hope I wasn't unconscious long. Hanging upside down can cause brain damage if it's for too long. Get a grip. I must be brain damaged. It couldn't have been so long because I was in the same position. Daniel gave himself a mental shake and glanced at Jack. Except for thin streams of blood, his ashen skin held no color. His mouth lay slack, exposing the narrowest rim of teeth as gravity pulled open his jaw. It exposed Jack's vulnerability and made him appear heartbreakingly human. With a shiver of panic, Daniel realized his friend could die. He knew Jack was mortal, but the soldier usually seemed so indestructible. Not this time. Help him! "I probably shouldn’t move you, but…"

As carefully as he could, he maneuvered himself through the broken window. At least the safety glass shattered on the way down. The Jeep creaked a metal protest as he crawled onto the soft blanket of snow. He grimaced at the sight of the long gash on his leg. It would have to be bound soon. He could feel the warm blood wetting his jeans, but at least the cold would help slow the bleeding, giving him time.

First, Jack needed his help. "Be right there," Daniel promised, gritting his teeth as he used the tree trunk to stand.

"Dan-iel?"

"Hang on." Staggering uphill had him biting his lip in response to the pain in his leg. The snow was thigh deep and moving against it woke abused muscles. He reached the driver’s side just as O’Neill’s fingers touched the seatbelt. "Wait," Daniel pleaded, covering the older man's gloved hand with his own.

"What?"

Before Jack could do anything, Daniel slipped partially beneath him to help ease the fall. He gritted his teeth and reached up to help. It took long moments for him to undo the buckle. The plastic bent under his fingers without giving while his shaking hands fumbled with it. A curse warmed the air between them as he jabbed the inset. It quickly slipped apart.

Jack’s short free-fall elicited a mangled moan from him.

With a grunt of pain, Daniel forced his breathing to slow. Hot tears blurred his vision as he lay trapped beneath the bloodied body. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you…roll off me?"

"Piece…of…cake."

From the half sob in the words, Daniel knew it was anything but. O'Neill slowly crawled away, his breath wheezing in agonized gasps. Uh oh. Bruised ribs or worse. "Jack?" he asked, looking at his companion's ashen, bloodstained features.

"I'm. Fine."

No, you're not. Daniel wanted to argue. He settled for getting away from the Jeep. A small blood trail marked the passage to his companion's side. Endless moments later, he lay alongside Jack.

"You're hurt."

The concern in the older man's voice made Daniel smile. It came off more like a grimace. "So are you from the look of it. Tell me straight. What's wrong with you?"

A brief pause filled the winter air before the soldier admitted, "Head hurts. Ribs are sore, but I don't think they're cracked."

Cold air making his lungs ache, Daniel pressed, "And?"

A sour look flickered over Jack's face. "Since when did you get so good at reading my mind?"

"Since you taught me our lives depend on it."

Jack sighed, his lesson as valuable on Earth as on any hostile planet. "Something's wrong with my back."

Looking up at the darkening sky, Daniel wanted to scream. Instead, he forced himself to ask calmly, "Can you walk?"

"Don't think so. Why don't you go for help? I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Dammit, Daniel, it makes no sense for both of us to freeze our asses off. You…" Jack coughed, his hand pressed to his side as if it would keep his bruised ribs in place. "Shit," he muttered when the wracking spell quit.

"Don't worry. I've got an idea."

"Swell."

Not taking offense at the sarcasm, Daniel knew Jack was just worried about him and angered by their current situation. He couldn't do anything about the former, but he sure as hell could on the latter. As Daniel forced himself to his feet, pain spiked through his leg, making his jaw clench down tight before he betrayed how much it hurt.

"What…"

"Trust me," Daniel huffed as he limped toward the overturned Jeep. For a moment, the silence which greeted his request filled him with unexpected warmth. The soldier believed Daniel would get them both out of this. Needing confirmation, he looked. Jack was unconscious again.

"I'll take that as a yes," Daniel said. His words fell strangely flat in the icy air as if the lowering clouds had the power to suck the life from them. Cautiously eyeing the looming mass, Daniel knew he had to make them a shelter before the snowflakes fell again. Night hovered on the horizon even though the cloud cover made it impossible to see it. He had to create a shelter so they could survive till daybreak. Afterwards, he would find a way to get them both out of here.

His gaze came back to Jack. The older man's color was even worse now with a gray tinge underlying the pallor. Shivers caused his lean body to tremble as unconsciousness lowered his defenses. His eyelashes lay against cheeks slightly hollowed by pain. A sudden yearning to see those lashes lift so he could look into reassuring brown eyes made Daniel clench his jaw and turn away. It was his turn to care for Jack, and the other man would be around in the morning if he had to wrestle death personally. None of that. Focus on what you can do. He carefully eyed the Jeep. Any wrong displacement of weight like a careless lean on his part would send it the rest of the way down the hillside. As much as he'd have liked to use it for shelter, he couldn't. So, he needed to salvage what he could.

Daniel knelt near the back of the SUV, grateful for the lack of broken glass. The plastic rear window was ripped, but most of the black material covering the posterior remained intact. Good. He could use it. Reaching inside, he began retrieving the remainder of the car's contents. A lot had spilled over the hillside. Luckily, his backpack remained, and he stuffed as much as he could reach inside it. They'd need the supplies on the long trek out of here. A glance to his right told him he'd never make it back up the steep slope. The only way to safety lay down the hill.

Buzzing in his head was the only warning as reality shifted in a spin. Trees and snow swirled in a mad dance as dizziness struck. Daniel almost leaned on the Jeep for support but remembered not to just in time. He hung his head, fighting vertigo. The spell finally passed, leaving him drenched in sweat and nauseous. He blinked with determination, only now realizing his glasses were missing, and the fuzziness of vision came more from that than a head injury. Focus.

"Okay," he gritted out. His shaking fingers reached inside the vehicle, unlatching the hooks holding the rear covering in place. It would make a fine tarp with which to drag his injured friend. He piled more supplies, including a thick blanket and a nylon rope onto the plastic. Knowing he'd rescued what he could and worrying over the time it had taken, Daniel quickly ripped a T-shirt and bound his leg as best as he could. It would do neither of them any good if he passed out from blood loss. A scream got trapped behind his clenched teeth as he roughly jerked the knotted cloth to make it stay. It would have to do.

He stood, stumbling as blood rushed to his freezing limbs. His fingers instinctively sought the SUV. With a metal cry, the car lost its precarious hold and fell. It tumbled with a noisy protest, a black moving scar over the white landscape. He nearly followed it but managed to grab the tree.

"Damn. I'm gonna miss that Jeep. Guess it's time to look at the new Mustangs."

"Jack?" Daniel wheezed.

Shivering visibly, the older man looked wrung out, but the wicked glint in his brown eyes said he wasn't giving up yet.

It bolstered Daniel's flagging hope. "We've got to get down there before the storm comes."

"I know." Jack's simple reply said it all. They needed the thicker shelter of the trees not this undependable mountainside.

"I figured you could ride down on the plastic." With a grunt, Daniel settled the backpack in place. The extra weight felt more like a hundred pounds than twenty.

"Makeshift toboggan?" The soldier eyed the transport with distaste. "Not sure it'll move through this soft snow even with my weight."

"I'm gonna drag you."

"No, you're not."

"I am." Even as he argued, Daniel knew the mulish set of his jaw would set Jack's teeth to grinding, but he hoped the man realized he wouldn't change his mind.

O'Neill sighed but clearly wasn't quite ready to give up. "You're injured."

"And freezing. Stop wasting time." Daniel dragged the cover closer to his companion. He moved most of the supplies to one side but spread the blanket out and removed the rope.

"What's your plan?" Jack's dour tone made it clear he didn't relish what was coming.

"Get you on the tarp and get us down."

"Afraid you were gonna say that." Jack moved his legs as if to stand.

"Don't," Daniel said at the same time. As Jack's lips clamped around a scream, helplessness gutpunched Daniel. The older man's neck muscles worked as he fought the pain. "Jack?" He gripped his friend's arm for support, trying to provide a buffer against the onslaught.

White faced and shaking, the soldier covered the comforting fingers with one hand. "Help me."

The plea ripped into Daniel. He knew what the words cost the proud man. "This might hurt," he warned, grabbing the back of Jack's ski jacket.

"Do it."

Courage flowed into Daniel at the hissed command. Pulling Jack onto the tarp, he bit his lower lip at the stifled sounds of distress escaping his friend's throat. "Sorry, sorry. I'm almost there," he promised, pulling the ends of the blanket closed to envelop the shivering man. The plastic followed. A few deft wraps of the rope around the excess tarp near the soldier's snowboots, and he was done.

So was Jack. He was off with the angels.

Worry surged on another wave of nausea. Daniel gulped in a few lungfuls of cold air, noticing the white flakes beginning to fall again. Jack must be bad if he was out of it. It took a hell of a lot to take the soldier down. "Sorry," Daniel rasped, gathering the free ends of the nylon rigging in his gloved fingers.

He took a step, using the weight behind him as a counterpoint to the gravity of the incline. His injured leg threatened to buckle, but he sent it a mental order. One step. Two. Three and four. Frozen white resisted his progress. Snow flew faster now, the air and ground competing to see which would slow him more.

Determination grew inside Daniel. Each stride brought them closer to safety. He clenched his teeth and lifted his boot.

His foot plunged into a small, snow covered deadfall. Tree branches ate at his already injured leg, wringing a cry from him as he slipped to his knees. The lifeline to Jack jerked from his fingers as he fell into the snow. Cold bit the exposed skin on his face.

"Daniel?"

Cataloguing the aches in his body, Daniel took a moment to gather his senses.

"Daniel? Danny?"

Weak queries from behind him penetrated his distress. "M'okay, Jack. Just clumsy." He pushed away from the ground and turned.

Cocooned in the black material, the other man looked more like a swaddled casualty than a hard ass soldier. Yet, the glint in his eyes and the set of his pale jaw belied the image. If willpower had any say, Jack O'Neill would find a way to rescue them.

The determination in the fever bright eyes lent Daniel the strength to stand. He carefully extracted his leg, grimacing as branches clawed him. In his mind's eye, he didn't see the fresh blood on his skin. Only the flush on Jack's face mattered. How could he have forgotten his friend's cold?

"Daniel?"

"We're nearly there."

"I can try…"

"Stay still, Jack. You're helping me by acting as an anchor. I don't think I can make it down without you."

The lie hung in the snow clogged air.

"But…"

"Please," Daniel asked, gathering the rope and beginning the ordeal once more. Silence came from behind him again. He didn't turn this time to check if Jack was aware or not. There wasn't time.

At least it's slightly warmer. Daniel's lips twisted in a grim smile. As the snow whirled around them, the temperature compensated. It was a welcome illusion.

The last few feet were measured in staggering lurches. Breath coming in jagged gasps, Daniel wanted to shout his defiance at the elements as they reached a natural shelter of trees. Snow piled high in drifts under the firs. He'd see about making a shelter in a second.

Jack came first. Always.

Pain in his leg relegated to unimportance, Daniel turned and knelt beside his friend. Jack's face was in profile, his dark eyelashes denying access to the courage in his eyes. Daniel stripped off one glove, muttering an Abdyonian curse as his shaking fingers refused to cooperate. When the covering came free, he reached out to touch the pulsepoint on Jack's neck. He couldn't tell who was colder, but the steady beating against his fingertips wrung a sigh from the pit of his stomach.

Truth countered the small bit of relief. Daniel wasn't a medical doctor. He couldn't tell if Jack was in shock. Do what you can do. Don't consider the rest. Nodding, he forced himself to stand against the agony in his own body and the buffeting wind. Moving towards the largest snow pile, he realized he couldn't feel his toes. That was bad.

An ugly image of amputated, frostbitten toes surfaced in his thoughts. John Benklam of SG-7 had lost a good part of his foot when his team got temporarily trapped on an ice planet. Daniel had been lucky, if that was the word, to be in the infirmary recovering from a stab wound from a mission when they'd brought the older captain in. It hadn't been pretty.

With a shake of his head, Daniel shrugged out of the backpack and got to work, digging a tunnel in the largest snowbank, burrowing in desperation like any threatened animal. His breath fogged around his face. For the first time since the accident, he was glad he didn't have his glasses. There were enough things against him. He didn't need fogged sight to be one of them.

Nearly an hour later, an ice womb big enough for two lay ready. Luckily, the electric lantern Jack always kept in his car still worked. It illuminated the small habitat. "Good thing neither one of us is claustrophobic," Daniel muttered, backing out of the man-made cave. Snow swirled relentlessly now, the storm in full rant in the early night. He squinted against the whiteness at the black shape lying nearby. "Hold on, Jack. I'm almost through," Daniel encouraged. After rummaging in the backpack, he withdrew a bottle of water. Despite the failing light, he could see crystals already forming inside the plastic container. He twisted the cap off and sprinkled the contents over their ice home away from home, knowing the cold would finish the job as the top solidified into a frozen crust. A do-it-yourself igloo.

When he'd carefully returned the bottle to his pack, Daniel dropped the bag near the entrance and went to retrieve Jack. Even though he was snugly wrapped, the soldier's quivering visibly shook the tarp. Daniel frowned and grabbed the towline again, hoping the crude shelter would provide enough protection against the elements. He slid the rope through the wire hanger on the electric lamp so he could see what he was doing.

It took all his determination to get Jack and the lantern inside as he backed into the dwelling on his hands and knees. Pain from his wounded leg was ignored even though the crab-like scuttling scraped the bandage back. Unfortunately, the opening proved too narrow at first for the sideways bundle, and the other man's protected elbows caught at the low lying roof. Daniel dug at the top of the tunnel to widen it. Sprinkles of ice dusted the two men. His stomach clenched as a hoarse cry escaped his friend when Jack got stuck again. "Sorry," he gasped, wishing he'd received the pain instead of unwittingly causing it.

Unconsciousness robbed O'Neill of an answer.

By the time he'd gotten them both inside and pulled the backpack in too, sweat covered Daniel. The lantern went safely to one side. His fingers struggled with the rope binding the material at Jack's feet. It seemed as if the knots would never break free just before they actually did. Time slowed as he opened the tarp, shoved the supplies to one side, and spread the plastic over the ground. He left Jack cocooned in the blanket.

"Don't get the wrong idea, but we have to share body warmth," Daniel explained more to pacify himself than to inform his companion. It wasn't his nature to comfort with touch, but it was Jack's. Carefully gathering his friend in his arms, Daniel settled him in the hollow of his body. The fever-blushed cheek lay pillowed against the cradle of his shoulder as he securely wrapped his arms around the lax body. It probably wasn't the wisest move given Jack's back injury, but the alternative appeared to be freezing to death.

Jack had more than enough heat to share. His fever, low at the beginning of the journey, had risen noticeably. Beneath his eyes, bruised crescents indicated a growing illness. His skin appeared sallow; his lips parted in a wheeze, gasping air into a congested respiratory system.

"Hang in there," Daniel pleaded tiredly against the damp crown of Jack's hair. He could feel the wet remains of snowflakes against his cheek. The cold seemed deceitful when juxtaposed with Jack's feverishness.

Daniel blinked fiercely. The white snow walls sparkled in the electric light, making everything seem too bright after the gloom of the storm. As the adrenaline began to fade from his limbs, aches intensified, especially in his injured leg. His weary arms tightened protectively as his already impaired vision blurred once, refocused, and then went back to a softer haze. It wouldn't do to let go. Jack couldn't think he'd been abandoned.

Exhaustion crested like a surging tide, lining Daniel's eyelids with heaviness. "Can't sleep," he mumbled. "Can't…" It was no use. Lassitude dragged him under as the snowstorm howled around the tiny shelter. Only his will kept his body from completely relaxing. Jack needed a soft but secure place to lie. Even in slumber, Daniel safeguarded his friend.

*

Electric glare illuminated frozen walls. Unnerved by the aching sense of utter wrongness in his own body, Jack's gaze roved wildly over the crystalline surface. How could he be surrounded by ice yet seared by a flash fire? Daniel must've misdialed.

He shifted. Agony slammed into him, sucking breath from his lungs. Jack panted against the sharp spasms in his back and side. God. What happened?

Freezing, endless cold heightened instead of numbed his injuries. Silence echoed his failures. Restlessly, Jack shifted his head from side to side, trying to deny the horrible truth. Antarctica.

"Jack?"

O'Neill stilled at the hoarse concern.

"Don't worry. I've got you. Shhh. Sleep while you can. Your body needs it."

Nothing made sense. The warm, hard body behind him with the muscular arms wrapped around him provided a sense of security but seemed 'off' to his blistered senses. Carter was a damn fine soldier, but she was still female soft in all the right places. Just because Jack didn't think of her in gender specific terms didn't mean he was unaware of the differences between their bodies. That meant his mattress had to be… "Daniel?"

"Hmmm?"

"Sam? Teal'c?"

Another long pause, this one expressing magnified concern. "They aren't here. Remember? We were in your Jeep when some…jerks ran us off the road."

Jack's lips twisted at the choice of word for their attackers. Jerks? An adjective not fit for company flowed into his mind. He drifted in a hot daze, words floating upside down like boiled fish in his skull. Hot. So so hot. His gloved fingers twitched. Why couldn't he make them reach up and unzip his jacket? An ugly image of shackles surged in his brain.

"Rest. We'll move at first light."

The command stiffened Jack's spine, forcing a distressed cry as muscles spasmed.

"No. Don't do that. Stay still."

Fighting the pain, the heat, and his enemy, Jack ignored the plea, his flailing hands battling to break free of their restraints. "Damn, Goa'uld. Not fooling me." His hissed words echoed strangely in his head. How had they managed to implant one in him? Was this another illusion of Hathor's stronghold?

"Please, Jack. Stop."

"Not real," Jack managed between clenched teeth as confining arms wrapped him more tightly in an anchoring embrace. His elbow worked out of the blanket, smashing backward with a satisfying jolt. God! Gratification winked out in the backwash of terrible, light-robbing torture as his body betrayed him. Got one of the bastards. Unconsciousness slammed him into a pit of fire.

*

Sunlight speared Daniel's eyes, dispatching a moan of protest from chapped lips. Even his eyebrows ached. Worst of all was his backside. It felt like part of the frozen ground despite a night wrestling with Jack's fever demons.

"Jack?"

Weariness sublimated, Daniel loosened his death-grip on the other man, careful not to jar him. The frightening fever heat had considerably lessened, and the lean body cradled against him seemed way too lax. Apprehension surged through Daniel, leaving his heart pounding. His gloved fingers sought the pulsepoint on the soldier's neck. A long moment passed before he grew calm enough to feel the steady thudding against his trembling fingers. Alive. Thank God.

"Sorry," he apologized as he shifted.

Jack groaned and tried to burrow back towards his warmth.

"Sorry," Daniel said again. He pulled away, the regret at denying his friend such small comfort twisting painfully in his chest. They had to get out of here, and he wanted to assess Jack's condition. Neither one would be accomplished by snuggling to avoid what surely would become a nightmare journey to safety. He switched off the lantern, noting how dim the light was. The battery had been severely depleted.

"What?"

A tired smile lifting the corners of his mouth, Daniel said, "Nothing. Stay put while you can. I'm going to have to move you in a minute."

"Fine."

The surliness in the nasal word said everything. Jack was normally obnoxiously cheerful in the morning as a counterpoint to his own grump mode. With gentle hands, Daniel extracted himself to kneel beside his companion. Dull brown eyes blinked up at him, expressing pain from injuries and remorse for being a burden. After stripping off a glove, Daniel tested the pale skin to find it warm but not overly heated. At least the fever had abated.

"Leave me."

"No."

"Dammit. I'll be fine. Get help. Better chance." The effort to produce the wheezing words paled Jack's skin even more.

"Save your breath. Sounds like your cold has gotten worse." Daniel tugged the glove back on before attaching the lantern so it would hang from a strap on his backpack.

"Ya think?"

The quip was only a shadow of its normal self, but it brought relief into Daniel's heart. If Jack could gripe or make fun, they still had a chance.

"You look…raccoon."

Daniel sighed. Jack always complained he wouldn't stop talking, but the soldier was just as bad. He frowned at his companion's nonsensical observation.

"Black eyes."

"Oh." Surprise lifted Daniel's fingers to his face. He winced as he touched the sore spots. His nose wasn't broken so perhaps the discoloration came from a severe lack of sleep? It didn't matter. He quit probing the tender area and retrieved the rope near his friend's feet.

"Don't. I'll…walk," Jack began. He shifted and immediately bit back a cry as his own body assaulted him.

"No, I don't think so," Daniel said gently. Gripping his friend's shoulder to ground him against the spasms, he searched Jack's contorted face for the strength he always found there.

Breath ragged, O'Neill snapped. "What?"

"Ready to go?"

Jack's anger visibly deflated at the concerned question. "Sure. Mush."

A grim smile shaping his lips, Daniel began to bundle his companion up again.

"Daniel? I've got to…"

"Oh. Oh sure." Quickly and efficiently, Daniel backed off, waiting while Jack took care of nature. He made sure not to make eye contact. It didn't upset him, but he knew it had to bother the hell out of the other man.

"Ready."

"Okay." Daniel quickly redid the bindings on the tarp. From the sour note in Jack's voice, it was clear he didn't relish the helpless role. Knowing how much he hated being in a similar position, Daniel asked, "Do you mind if we eat breakfast in a little while? I want to see if we can find a way back to the road from here."

"No problem. Probably…for best," Jack wheezed, automatically slipping back into leadership. "Head north. Cabin's there."

Daniel nodded and tossed the backpack towards the shelter's entrance. Wrapping the towline around one hand, he crawled forward. His wounded leg woke from its numbed stiffness into nagging misery. He ignored it. Fresh snow hampered his progress, but he pushed it out of the way. It took a few moments before both men were outside in the bright sun. Enjoying the warmth of it on his face, Daniel sighed deeply.

"Sunglasses?"

Regret bloomed. "I didn't get them, Jack."

"Snow…blind."

Wincing at his own stupidity, Daniel took a deep breath before suggesting, "Can you close your eyes for now? I'll figure out something when we stop again."

"Not me. You."

The words made him feel even worse. Daniel mentally shook his head as he put the backpack on. Debilitating pain wouldn't stop Jack O'Neill from taking care of a member of his team. "I'll be fine," he soothed, retrieving the rope to lurch forward on legs too stiff and sore to move. Fire raced down the injured one as random muscles objected to the action, reminding him he hadn't escaped their tumble down the hillside completely unscathed. None of it mattered. What did was getting them both out of there.

Biting the inside of his lip, Daniel knew Jack wasn't going to waste his breath arguing. They both needed him to do this, and he would. Soft new snow on the older dense pack beneath resisted his attempt. He glared at it and winced. The narrowing of his gaze made him realize Jack was right as usual. Bright sun on white wasn't fun when the dazzle hit his eyes.

He checked for any moss on the trees to find north before beginning. It took a moment, but he finally found some. Daniel began walking. After long minutes of breaking trail, he was breathing the knife-cold air in great gulps.

"Slow down," came Jack's hoarse advice.

Instinct making him obey that voice, Daniel settled into a grueling rhythm as if sludging through the white hell had become an endurance race rather than a trial against time. Firs dusted with icy powder muffled noise. Even though the highway lay somewhere above and off to his left, he couldn't hear it. Only a couple of squabbling birds sounded against the soft hush of the wind in the laden trees. Jack had fallen silent behind him as if sensing he had no extra lung power to carry on an extensive conversation. His mind spun into a neutral place, the consistent pain spiking in his leg the only thing grounding him in the here and now. It wasn't enough.

Crystal tunnels with wall shapes like distorted stop signs. Don't go there. Danger ahead.

Continuous fire from his knee to his ankle as he escaped Hathor with Makepeace. Please, no. I'll walk until I don't have feet anymore. I'll walk until I'm not even me anymore. God, Jack, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have thought that. We know the host survives. Hang in there. I won't give up on Sha're. I won't give up on Skaara. Don't ever think I'd give up on you.

You weren't a lot of help there when he was being Goa'ulded were you Danny-boy?

Shut up. Shut up.

What's the matter? Afraid to face the truth? Can't acknowledge what a miserable coward you are? You let Hathor hurt Jack. Why didn't you offer…

No. No.

It's not like she hasn't gotten her fingers on you before. Remember the knife?

God, no.

We own him, Tau'ri. He is ours to do with as we will.

Leave him alone, snakebitch. If you hurt a hair on his head...

A serpentine blade flashing in the dimmed light. What will you do if we do? Let us see. What about this hair? And this one? And this?

Jack!

A shudder ripping through him, Daniel woke from the flashback, the feeling of Hathor's knife scraping against his scalp all the clearer for him having forgotten it. He'd wondered at the shortness of his hair when Hathor's minions tried to convince him his friends were dead. He'd thought they'd done it as part of the cryogenic process. Afterwards, he'd been too busy trying to escape to give his new look serious contemplation.

Now, with the sensation of her fingernails threading through his hair, tugging on his scalp, he wanted to vomit even though no food lay in his stomach. His vision blurred, and Daniel blinked to clear it. They had to get out of this snow, reach the cabin or a side road leading out. He couldn't afford to trip out over something so insignificant. Squinting against the white half blinding him, Daniel plodded on.

White all around him. Soft, protective coverings. He could batter his body against it, and he wouldn't be hurt. He knew. He'd tried. Nuthouses were perfect places for anyone who wanted to harm themselves. And he did. He deserved the pain for failing Jack. The soldier had tried everything to help him get better, but he'd only gotten worse. Daniel knew there were people at the SGC sneering at him now; it somehow seemed worse because they were also laughing at Jack. Jack didn't deserve their derision or pity…only their respect. Because of Daniel, he'd been put in the awkward position of defending a crazy man.

"I'm not nuts," Daniel muttered, sucking in the icy air until it stabbed his lungs. He blew it out on a long sigh. The sun cleared the treetops, sharding splinters of brightness into his eyes. Blinking against the stinging, Daniel took another step and another, no longer aware of anything except the need to move forward towards safety. Burning across his palm throbbed in time with the inferno in his leg, but he'd rather lose his hand than let go of the rope tethering him to Jack.

A stifled groan tugged Daniel back from the edge of restless sleep. Knowing movement would wake misery, his first instinct was to play dead until it fooled the infected wound in his leg. Yet, the thought of who made the soft sound of distress kept nudging his sluggish brain. Jack? It couldn't be. Capturing his lower lip with his teeth, Daniel carefully rolled on his side to study his companion's blanket covered form. Flames surged in his leg. He gulped antiseptic air, determined to ignore the caustic misery under his skin as he stared at the rigid outline of Jack's back in the dimmed infirmary.

"Jack?" Daniel knew his hesitant voice betrayed his concern. He also knew O'Neill wouldn't appreciate it under normal circumstances. A wry wince made the room blur. After Hathor, what was normal? As the nonresponse stretched into strained silence, his heart sped up. "Jack?" Panic lent urgency to the whispered name.

"Go back to sleep. I'm fine."

"Are you…"

"I'm sure."

Daniel squinted harder, trying to see through the white nubbins of Jack's blanket. The older man didn't sound fine. In fact, the note of fear buried inside the terse dismissal brought Daniel into a sitting position. "I could call Janet," he offered tentatively.

"For cryin' out loud. Just leave it be, willya?"

O'Neill's favorite curse didn't comfort. It traced a cold finger of dread along Daniel's neck. His friend was hurting heart-deep. Shaky fingers hesitated over the call button.

"Don't."

How did he always know? Daniel edged his hand back and waited. And waited, counting out the ragged heartbeats as heavy emptiness filled the room. Nothing. It left him a single option: a catchall question. "Why?"

The light over Jack's bed snapped on, rushing clarity into the room.

Breath snagged in Daniel's throat at the haggardness of his friend's features. More than ever he itched to summon Janet. He held the bloodshot brown gaze for a suspended moment.

"Please, don't."

The soft plea twisted Daniel's stomach. He swallowed roughly. "Okay."

Something wilted in O'Neill's dark eyes at the unexpected capitulation.

Worry gestated into heart-thumping fear. "What's wrong, Jack?" Daniel had to force the question past the dryness in his mouth.

"Nothing. Why should anything be wrong? I'm just…peachy."

Daniel suddenly knew, understood without a lingering doubt the demon gnawing at the soldier's troubled heart. "It's dead, Jack."

O'Neill's haunted gaze grew wide as meaning sunk in. Then, just as abruptly, it shuttered. "Yeah, Bones. Whatever you say."

Daniel pushed on. "The Goa'uld that was inside you can't hurt you any more."

"Oh, can't it?"

The low bitterness in the words sucked the air from Daniel's lungs. "Not if you don't let it."

"Thank you very much, Doctor Freud. I assume it's your professional opinion?"

How can I fight Hathor's mind rape? She only screwed with my head this time and got Jack's body. I know how it feels. Fingernails raking the small of his back, cruel lips pressed against his, and relentless legs capturing his own flashed into his brain, wringing a shudder from him. Oh yeah. He knew.

You were never Goa'ulded. Raped, yes. Goa'ulded, no.

"Daniel."

"You can get past this, Jack."

"Daniel."

"She's dead. It's dead. You're alive. Go on from there."

"Daniel!"

Daniel blinked, hearing the ragged moaning of his name instead of a ghost of the recent past. "Jack?" he croaked, startled to see the sun at noonpoint in the cloudless blue sky. Why hadn't O'Neill stopped him so they could eat? He turned, took two steps towards his friend and carefully sank to his knees. Agony screamed in his wounded leg.

"Rest."

The weak command crushed Daniel's heart with guilt. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped. Gave you food…let you rest."

"Not me. You."

Daniel blinked, staring down at the pain-lined face. Jack wanted him to stop? He couldn't. They couldn't. "In a moment," he promised, struggling to stand on shaking legs. The world grayed around the edges with a rush of cold sweat and nausea. Biting his lip, he forced his knees to lock against the tremors. Breath plumed in front of his face as he gulped air and waited for reality to settle.

"Now."

"Later." Daniel couldn't look at Jack as he said the word. The man would be looking frustrated as well as ill by now. Daniel not doing as he was told when Jack wasn't in a position to make him would not improve the unwilling invalid's mood. Tightening his grip on the rope, he moved forward again. Tears warmed his eyes as the light bounced off snow. He roughly scrubbed them away with the back of his free hand and plodded on toward the break in the tree line.

The ground remained at a fairly even keel as he followed what could have been an old stream bed. No new deadfalls appeared to bite his ankles. Only the nagging pain in his leg and the frozen misery of his toes prevented him from getting them to safety. Daniel clenched his teeth, determined to stagger forward until they reached shelter and help. Shushing of the snow against the tarp lulled his mind back into that in-between place again.

A mature Goa'uld hissing as it triumphantly whipped back and forth in Hathor's hands, choosing its victim, dark eyes bright with malevolence as it lingered near Jack.

Jack screaming as it breached the sensitive skin of his neck, burrowing in savage joy.

Terror ripping through Daniel as he saw another Goa'uld curled around Jack's arm like an obscene lover before it slithered up his arm. As it reared, Daniel's breath caught in his lungs. It lunged, ripping through delicate skin. Brown eyes glowed white even though the barest wisp of the Goa'uld's tail remained. The tail. Grab the tail!

There's a Goa'uld in you, I've gotta get it out!

Daniel! There's no Goa'uld in me.

He'd seen it. Seen the slithering thing rear its head and plunge into his friend's neck. Seen Jack's eyes glow. Known it was only a moment before the Jack he knew disappeared forever. They might get him back, but he'd be irrevocably changed just like Sam.

Footsteps. Oh God. Footsteps. After the Linvris, Jack would be there but not to save him. Hathor had promised. Jack would kill both him and Sam. Slowly.

Daniel could feel the soldier's fingers tightening around his neck in a murderous caress. Such inhuman strength could hold him motionless, toying with the brink of death for hours and hours. Jack would choke him into insensibility then allow him to wake to a fire in his throat before it all began again. When he finally tired of the game, he'd toss Daniel's body into the corner of the padded cell like so much garbage.

Hate shot along Daniel's nerves in a burning rush. One chance. He needed one chance to make Hathor sorry for the things she'd done to them all.

It's not like you're gonna get it, wimp.

Trying to ignore the taunting voice from his childhood, Daniel struggled to hold onto consciousness. Henry Lincoln belonged to the schoolyards of his youth. He could still feel the fists and feet and the horror of watching his precious books smashed to a pulp just as the bullies did his body.

Wimp.

Jack?

O'Neill's eyes flashed white lightning before his fist shot towards Daniel's face. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure. Pain exploded as Daniel tried to throw his hands up to protect himself. It was useless. He could feel the sharp spike in his head as his nose cracked, taste the thick blood. His mouth was so much mush as the fist connected with his teeth. Something white smacked him in the face.

Daniel jerked back to reality as snow scraped his cheek. He lay on the ground panting in ragged breaths as he tried to make sense out of the tilted sky. Why was he lying here trembling as if the closet monsters were after him?

A tug beneath him. Looking down, he saw the thin, black snake trying to get out from under him. Snake? Daniel rolled to the side to avoid the creature and watched as it squirmed away towards…

"Jack?"

"Get…me…out."

A puzzled frown wrinkled Daniel's forehead as his brain attempted to make sense of the words and the fact the snake was now a rope. What did his friend want? As Jack thrashed about, trying to escape the thick tarp enveloping him, stifled cries of distress fell against the snow-muffled air. The anguish finally penetrated Daniel's cotton-wooled brain. "Don't move," he begged. "I'll get us out."

"Help…you," Jack managed between gritted teeth. Sweat beaded his pale forehead.

"No. Trust me. Please?" Daniel forced himself to stand again, shocked into the present by the other man's need to protect him. It was up to him to get them out of this mess. Jack was too wounded to play the hero.

Except he doesn't play at it like you do, Daniel. He is a hero.

Ignoring the voice in his skull, Daniel picked up the black rope and took a long look around to get his bearings, trying to pinpoint the nagging sense of something missing. Behind them lay a jagged trail with no view of last night's temporary shelter. In front waited a natural clearing. Was that the outline of a cabin just above the slight rise? Praying it was, Daniel wrenched ahead again, biting his lip against the protests of his battered body.

"Daniel."

He knew the soldier wanted him to stop, but Jack couldn't see the cabin. It lay like a prize for the taking just a few more grueling steps away. Daniel staggered into the full wash of sunlight which bathed the small meadow and gave thanks. Just above him, a solid structure beckoned invitingly. There was even a chimney which promised a roaring fire. Just thinking of the heat from the flames against his skin revived him. He gulped a deep breath and began the last steep climb to sanctuary.

His heart pounded a vicious rhythm against his ribcage, keeping time with the stabs of anguish from his wounded leg. Daniel swallowed with difficulty. How could saliva thicken like rancid oil? Cold air seared his lungs as he gulped oxygen. Dark spots danced in his vision, blotting out everything except the need for one step after another. His knees trembled like Jell-O as he forced them to keep working. The slope woke misery in his lower back. He didn't remember hurting it, but then a flash of fists pounding popped into his consciousness. Had it only been yesterday when he faced those three goons in the market? Several miserable lifetimes could have passed.

Several feet from the top, snow gave beneath his boots, sliding him back a few feet. Daniel clenched his teeth and kept going. His shaking legs begged him to quit, and the rope in his hand protested the leaden weight attached to it. Slipping again on the soft snow, he fell to his knees with a gasp. Can't stay down. Can't. Won't. Glancing up, Daniel frowned at the top of the rise. His free hand opened, clawing his way up, pushing away from the ground. He ignored the flash of pain which spiked through him as he regained his feet. With a final stagger, Daniel topped the rise, breathing heavily, standing there opened mouthed at the sight of heaven on earth. He lurched forward, feeling the drag on his aching shoulders lessen as Jack's tarp covered body lay on horizontal ground.

The cabin was in good repair, snug against the elements, and hopefully well stocked given the large load of firewood which lay stacked against the lean-to on its right side. "Home," he said. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.

"Uncle's."

The raspy word brought his focus back to Jack. "What?"

"My uncle's." O'Neill's dark eyes held immeasurable pain, but his pride in his teammate was evident on his ragged features.

"You're joking. Of course, you're not joking, but that's way too coincidental."

A smile which quickly turned into a grimace flew across the older man's mouth. "Guardian angel."

With something sounding suspiciously more like a sob than a snort of laughter, Daniel felt a measure of the tension drain from him at the old joke. Given his numerous escapes from death, O'Neill insisted Daniel had shifts of guardian angels watching over him. One would be too overworked, and misery loved company after all. So, why should it be any more unbelievable if they ended up at their original destination?

"Let's get you inside and warm. Does it have a working phone?" Even as he spoke, Daniel was moving again.

"No phone. Remember?"

"Oh." For an instant, relief drowned in a wash of bitterness. Of course, the guardian angels would help them only so much. God helps those who help themselves. His mother's voice playing in his mind, Daniel squashed disgruntlement. He'd gotten them this far. Determination would get them the rest of the way.

As the first snow-covered board of the porch hit the bottom of his freezing foot, Daniel winced and let go of the tether line. "Key?"

"Under mat."

It took a moment to retrieve it and unlock the door which swung open on well-oiled hinges. Only sparing the dusty interior a quick glance, Daniel turned and made his way back to Jack. He'd have to unwrap the injured man and help carry him into the structure. It wouldn't do him any good to be dragged over the uneven steps.

Daniel's gloved fingers were shaking as he fought knots pulled tight with strain and wet with snow. Muscles in his jaw jumped when he snuck a peak at Jack's ashen, lined face. Jack was at the end of his endurance as well. "Have a fire going and soup in you real soon," Daniel promised.

"Good."

As the rope came free, Daniel made short work of pulling open the tarp and pushing aside their store of meager supplies. Something nagged at his weary mind as Jack tried to help him.

"Let me."

A pale imitation of his usual command voice, Jack's words sparked a fresh wave of worry. Shivers were shaking Daniel's frame in earnest now that he could imagine the warmth of a fire. He wouldn't…couldn't drop Jack when they were so close to being safe.

Safe? He'll only be safe when he's under a real doctor's care. What good is a doctorate in archeology gonna do me if I can't help him. Don't think of it. Don't. Concentrate on the things you can do.

Daniel worked his fingers beneath Jack's back and flinched when a cry escaped the soldier's lips as he assisted him into a sitting position. There was no way the other man could aid him.

"Do it."

Jack's feeble words lending him strength, Daniel clenched his teeth and slid an arm beneath his friend's knees. Leaving the other to brace the back, he lifted Jack against him. A muffled cry told how the jolting movement hurt the other man. It echoed Daniel's unvoiced shout as the substantial body weight strained his own aching muscles. Misery flashed through his leg as he forced his body to stand. Although only a few steps remained to get them out of the cold, they were the longest of all. He tightened his weakening grip and crossed the threshold into semi-darkness.

Damn. The lantern. Daniel realized he must have lost it during their stroll in the woods. How could he have not noticed it wasn't banging against his backside? Oh well. There were probably kerosene lamps since the cabin had no electricity. If not, firelight would have to do. Frowning at the inane thoughts chasing across his brain, Daniel staggered across the polished wood floor, his mind giving a small reminder he would have to mop up the mess he made.

Somehow, the mental distraction helped. He was at the wide couch a heartbeat later. Mistreated muscles in his arms trembled, begging him to drop his charge, but Daniel stubbornly tightened his grip. Slowly, he forced his unwilling knees to bend, stifling a groan as his back objected. He leaned forward, gently placing Jack on the sheet-covered cushions as if the other man was a newborn and sat on the floor beside him. Bowing his head on the other man's arm, Daniel simply breathed. He could feel fingers briefly stroke his damp hair before they fell away. Looking up, he saw Jack had fallen unconscious as if he no longer needed to be a witness to the fight for survival. Although he wanted nothing more than to remain near Jack, Daniel bit the inside of his lip. There were things he had to do: fires to be made, light to be sought, supplies to be retrieved from outside, the door to be shut.

Daniel managed to get his feet under him again as he went to carry out his responsibilities. Sight wavered around the edges as he stood swaying in the doorframe. He blinked to dispel the fuzziness clouding his vision. Muscles bunched in his jaw as he moved away from the shelter toward the open tarp spread like a black cloud over the trampled snow. It took forever to bundle up their meager supplies and slowly drag them inside. The door shut out both cold and light, filling the cabin with shadows.

Make a fire. Wrap Jack in a dry blanket. Despite the thoughts chasing themselves across his brain, Daniel sank to the floor beside his friend. His shaking hand sought the artery in Jack's neck. Slower than normal but steady, a pulsebeat pushed against his fingertips. A sigh escaped as he laid his head against the edge of the couch and stared at nothing. This time when sight wavered, he didn't blink. Sleep snared Daniel as his body simply gave out.

*

"Dammit!" With a rush of beer breath, Henry examined the trashed Jeep. Half hidden beneath a seat, he found and retrieved an undamaged cell phone. Finders keepers.

"I told you we shoulda checked last night, Joe-Bob."

"In that freakin' storm? Are you nuts, Clay? Who knew the faggots would survive the fall?"

"Both of you shut the hell up and let me think!" Henry scrubbed thick fingers through his sandy hair and scanned the mountainside. Rage had blinded him when he'd rammed the Jeep, and it hadn't abated when he found the vehicle empty of bodies. The only good queer was a dead one. That smart-assed pretty boy had to get what he deserved after all. How dare he come up here with his lover?

"So what are we gonna do?" Clay's rough voice couldn't hide his nervousness.

Henry sneered at the sound. "We're gonna have ourselves an honest-to-God queer hunt."

"You're talkin' murder." Frown lines made darker black on black wrinkles on Clay's forehead.

"They had no business livin' after that ride," Henry said, jerking his thumb toward the long slope scarred by the Jeep's passage.

"Can we have some fun before we kill 'em?" Something gleamed in Joe-Bob's brown eyes.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Henry smiled a yellow-toothed grin at his friends as a sense of utter righteousness swelled. The devil made mistakes; it was up to him and God to put 'em right.

"Whew boy!" Clay snickered, grabbing the towrope linked to his truck on the road above. At the top lay their shotguns, camping gear, and several bottles of whiskey.

"I'll wait." Henry ignored his buddy as he reached into the Jeep and flipped the driver's visor down. Something fell onto the ground. He pulled the paper up, frowning at the military ID. Fresh rage surged through him. This was even better. God had just given him a way to "out" a military man…and a colonel at that. "I'll out ya, boy," he promised, his breath smoking around his lips. "I'll out ya into the ground."

*

Colder than Hathor's heart. Ice instead of blood in his veins. God. Would he ever be warm again?

You will when the snake in your head's dead. Please, please, let it be dead. If it isn't, I'll destroy everyone and everything I believe in. If it isn't, I'll bend my neck and kneel to Hathor. If it isn't, I'll kill Carter and Daniel.

No. No. I'll never do that. But…how can I be sure? Concentrate, Jack. Don't let the bastards win. Why can't I hear the Goa'uld? Does that mean I'm already locked inside my mind without control over my body?

We are pleased.

Go away.

Rise and kneel before us.

Screw you.

See how our beloved trembles under our hand.

Stay away from him.

Daniel. Oh my God. He's so pale. Why did she have to gag and strip him and put him on that cold metal table? Leave the man some dignity. Shit! His eyes are rolled back so far all I can see are the whites. There's no blue at all. He's not moving. Is he dead? Did her drug kill him? Wait, his chest. Yeah, that's it. Breathe, Danny. Deep breaths, buddy. Blink. Good. Your eyes are dazed, but I can see the sense returning.

Damn. Now, why did I wish for that? Better if he never knew what she did to him.

We own him, Tau'ri. He is ours to do with as we will.

Leave him alone, snakebitch. If you hurt a hair on his head...

A serpentine knife flashing in the dimmed light. What will you do if we do? Let us see. What about this hair? And this one? And this?

Daniel's eyes are tracking the glittering dagger in fear. He looks at me, holds my gaze as if I can give him the strength to get through this.

Why can't I move? Why can't I stop her from cutting his hair? Dammit, Daniel! Don't just lie there with your eyes begging me to do something to help. Can't you see I'm chained up here? What in hell did she give you to make you be so still? Blood. Scarlet trickle running down your cheek like an obscene tear. Her finger reaching out to wipe it. The same finger going into her mouth, sucking…sucking.

Now his look pleases us. Now, he is our beloved.

Get away from him. Stop caressing his head like a trophy. Can't you see he's frightened?

Her fingers trail lower across his chest, over his quivering stomach muscles, and still lower.

You will respond to us, beloved, as you did before. We desire more children. Once is not nearly enough.

Leave him alone! Why won't these chains break? God, Danny, do something. Don't let her rape you in front of me! You can't want this. Let me go!

"Jack!"

I'll kill you.

"Ja…"

Now, I've got you, witch. How do you like my fingers around your throat? More pressure and I could snap your neck, but I don't want to. I want you to die slowly. Suffer as you've made him suffer. I want to see your glowing eyes dim as the life bleeds out of them.

O'Neill opened his eyes, equal parts of triumphant rage and physical agony filling his being. Vision clarified as he stared into a terrified blue gaze.

"Daniel?" Jack rasped, instantly letting go of his friend's throat.

The other man fell to the floor with a harsh gasp, clutching at his abused neck.

"No!" O'Neill tried to help, but his body ambushed him. Spasming muscles locked him in a rigor of misery. Reality clouded around the edges.

"I'm okay," Daniel wheezed after a long moment. He held a hand to his throat. After a moment, he pushed up to his knees, allowing his free hand to settle on Jack's shoulder for emotional support.

"Thought you were…"

"I know. I heard."

"Oh." The room tipped and spun. Jack closed his eyes, willing it to stop the Tilt-a-Whirl motion and frowned at the warmth playing over his cheekbones. He'd been cold for so long the soothing sensation felt foreign. Dry. Why was his mouth so dry? His tongue quested, seeking moisture.

"Here you go," said Daniel's gentle voice before a hand cupped the back of his head, lifted it, and the coolest, sweetest water he'd ever tasted dribbled into his mouth.

Danny, what did I ever do to deserve your friendship?

Thinking of the other man gave Jack the strength to open his eyes again. He blinked, trying to get his vision back into focus. At first, only a dark silhouette backlit by flames appeared. It gradually cleared into the concerned and weary face of his friend. Despite the firelight, he could see fear inside those eyes. Daniel was afraid of him? Holding the gaze a moment longer, Jack mentally shook his head. No, Daniel was afraid for him. "Why?" Jack croaked, wincing as his cold made breathing difficult.

"Why?" Daniel repeated like a parrot, a frown line etching between his lifted eyebrows.

O'Neill tried a different tack. "Where?"

"Your uncle's cabin."

"Oh." The simple exchange exhausted Jack as his adrenaline rush faded. He closed his eyes and drifted in the sensation of being warm, dry, and cared for. Feeling as if he was floating slightly outside his skin, he and moved to snuggle deeper inside the down comforter wrapped around him.

Pain . His eyes snapped open as misery in his lower back flared. Memory flooded over him in a breath-sucking rush. Soothing but strong fingers gripped his upper arms, grounding him against the onslaught.

"Easy. We're safe."

Jack sought and found help in Daniel's glance. He grabbed for the mental lifeline, using it to fight the agony in his lower back.

"You're badly bruised, but I don't think anything's broken."

"My back?" Dismay filled Jack at the weak sound of his own voice, and he impatiently cleared his throat to try again.

"That's where most of the black and blue is," Daniel admitted, "but you can move your toes so I don't think it's critical."

"Probably muscle-strained." Jack assessed the situation with a mental nod. He remembered the burning spasms from when they were in the snow. It wasn't as intense now.

"If it is, then the walk in the snow was probably a good thing."

"How?"

"You always ice a strain first."

A grimace which wanted to be a smile tweaked Jack's lips. Daniel should know. He'd had enough strains and injuries over the past couple of years to give a first year medical student a major case of hives. The thought pricked worry. "How about you?"

Daniel averted his gaze. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

Lashes lifted, revealing a thoroughly guilty gaze. "Okay. I'm better than I should be."

"What?" Dumbfounded, Jack could only stare at his companion.

"It's my fault we're in this mess."

A mental sigh whispered in Jack's brain. "You didn't run us off the road."

"My mouth did." Daniel swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as if something horrible stuck in his throat. He squared his shoulders, and his look sharpened. "I said some stupid things to some stupid truckers in that market. They ran us off the road in retaliation."

Although weariness fogged Jack's thinking, he knew one thing. Daniel would never, ever willingly pick a fight. The truckers must have done something first. Fresh worry broke over him in a wave. They'd probably gotten physical, and someone must have stopped it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you would want to go in there and beat the shit out of them. I don't always need protecting, Jack, and you didn't need to be out in the snow with your cold." A rusty laugh which sounded as if it hurt escaped Daniel's lips. "Fat lot of good it did. You ended up in a car wreck and had to spend the night exposed to god-awful weather."

"You kept me warm and got us here. No one could have asked more of you. Besides, it's not your fault there are a lot of unthinking assholes in the world who like to cause trouble." Jack didn't have the energy to argue. His cold was rapidly bleeding away his strength.

"Speaking of keeping you warm, could you eat some soup?"

At the thought of food, Jack's stomach growled.

A genuine smile tweaked Daniel's lips. "Guess you could." He rose and moved toward the fireplace. In a moment, he was back with a battered pot which had turkey scented steam rising from it. He carefully placed it on the floor before plumping up the pillow beneath the graying hair.

Jack clenched his teeth as the gentle maneuvering sent a fresh spike of suffering through him. He tried not to let it show, knowing what it would do to Daniel's considerable stock of guilt.

"Sorry."

O'Neill briefly closed his eyes. How could Daniel always see the bad things so clearly while totally ignoring the good things he did? It was as if the archeologist had a blind spot about himself.

"Eat."

Jack blinked as a spoon wavered in front of his eyes. Despite the discomfort the movement caused, he pulled his right hand from the blanket and reached for the utensil. Daniel quickly pulled it back before soup jostled onto him. "I'm not an invalid," Jack growled, only willing to tolerate so much coddling. A man had his pride after all.

"Not yet but you will be if you don't let me help you with the damned soup."

Jack swallowed a retort. The younger man's tone spoke of someone at the end of his limits. "It's not your fault, Daniel," he said gently. "I've gotta start making small moves or my back's not gonna get better." Ignoring the pain, he pulled his left arm from beneath the blanket and held it out. The pot went into it without further prompting. Taking a small sip of the hot liquid, Jack mentally sighed as it soothed his raw throat. He took several more gulps, feeling the warmth spread down his throat to pool in his stomach.

"Sorry." Daniel rose and went to poke the fire. A quiet pop of a breaking log heralded a spiral of orange sparks. Light flared in the dark cabin before dimming to the previous ruddy glow. He leaned against the mantle and studied the rifle above it as if it were some precious artifact he'd never seen before.

The soup stuck in Jack's throat, and he swallowed with difficulty. "Stop saying that. I told you. You have nothing to apologize for. Even Teal'c couldn't have done better." He waited but the hunched shoulders said everything. If direct assault didn't work, time for distraction. "Any idea what day it is?"

A long pause filled only with the sigh of the wind and the soft crackle of flames met his question. Then finally, "Christmas."

Jack blinked. He'd forgotten all about the holiday. "Merry Christmas, Danny."

Daniel turned, the naked misery on his face a counterpoint to his words. "Merry Christmas, Jack."

Quickly, Jack tried a verbal detour. "Guess the present I got you was ruined in the wreck. Oh well, I can always get you another hockey stick."

Daniel limped back to him. "I couldn't find the cell phone."

Jack wanted to growl his frustration but locked the words in his mind. He knew how hard Daniel must have looked. It was amazing the civilian had done so much. Then again, his friend constantly surprised him by his resilience and abilities. "You did good. Stop your worrying."

Daniel nodded, the look in his soft eyes saying clearly he wouldn't cease fretting until Jack had been checked over by a doctor. "Want some more water?"

"No." Damning the drowsiness stealing over him, Jack went for his last resort. Daniel always got diverted by telling stories. "So it's Christmas, huh? What was your best Christmas present when you were a kid?"

The younger man looked away. Between his eyebrows, a frown etched a line as if the supply of happy memories was too spare to count.

Seeing it, Jack would have happily shot himself. Why couldn't he remember Daniel's childhood was just another source of misery for the other man? Before he could toss out a new distraction, Daniel knowingly met his gaze. The look demanded no pity.

"I got a great pair of socks once."

Socks? Socks were something you gave kids in addition to real presents .

Something of his thoughts must have registered in his expression because Daniel hurriedly justified, "The Worthington's didn't have much. Aunt Marjorie knitted them herself because they couldn't afford to give me gifts too. Tom always needed tons of things. I'm sure my real parents gave me a lot too before they died."

But you were too young to remember. Right, Danny-boy? And I'll bet the little shit Tom got a stash of toys while you got a measly pair of footwarmers. Did you ever have a good Christmas? This one might have been okay if we hadn't been run off the road, and I hadn't tried to strangle you.

"What was your favorite childhood present?" Daniel asked, attempting to shift the conversation's focus away from him.

Jack understood. He didn't enjoy anyone's pity either. "A hockey stick," he lied, remembering with fondness a certain plush yellow duck he'd gotten for his third Christmas. He'd dragged it around until one of the wings fell off, hoping against hope it would learn to fly.

Daniel snorted. "Guess I should have gotten you the same thing you got me instead of a book on fool-proof chess strategies. Did you give me a stick because you liked yours so much?" He took the empty soup pot away from Jack's hands.

"No. I figured you could take it on missions when I wasn't teaching you the finer points of street hockey at home."

"Why would I take it off world?"

"With the way you seem to have a target painted on your backside, I figured you could always use an extra weapon."

Although Jack's tone was joking, the other man's expression fell into sadness. "Sorry."

"For what now?"

"I know you guys take extra care to look out for me."

"No more than you do for us. Who dragged whose butt through the snow today? I'm damned proud of you, Daniel."

"Oh, come on, Jack," Daniel said, irritation making his voice rasp. "How much help have I really been in a firefight? You…"

"Plenty," Jack interrupted. "You hold your own these days and then some."

"Well, I couldn't stop Hathor from Goa'ulding you, now could I? I didn't even make a move to try."

As self-horror rounded his friend's eyes at the spoken admission, Jack found something of extreme interest on the hardwood floor. He'd never noticed how faded the green rags in the rug had gotten. It was time to replace it.

He shivered, and it had nothing to do with being cold. The ice of the cryogenic chamber encased his mind. Reaction increased his body's natural defense against fear. He could feel the thing squirming inside his skull, whispering promises of murder and mayhem. Daniel would die. Carter would die. Everyone he ever cared for would die—by his own hands.

A dusty but thick quilt fell over him, making him start in surprise. His back howled a protest. Jack locked his teeth against the scream, unwilling to give Hathor the pleasure of hearing his terror voiced.

"Jack?"

With wild eyes, O'Neill stared at the steaming cup in front of his face.

"Drink."

"No," Jack croaked, turning his head away.

"Yes."

Daniel's firm voice penetrated the terror clutching him. He wasn't in Hathor's stronghold. The snake in his head was gone as if it'd never existed. Except, it wasn't. It lived in his memory, haunting him as surely as it would have if it still lived. All that was missing was the physical agony of the Goa'uld's retaliation against its host.

"Jack, please?"

"Don’t want it," Jack said petulantly.

"No wonder Janet says you're a lousy patient." A soft sigh took the sting from the words.

Meeting concerned eyes which held memories as ravaged as his own, Jack blinked and obediently took a sip of the steaming liquid. He immediately made a face. "Gah! How much sugar did you put in that coffee? It tastes like hot Kool-Aid."

"Enough to help you fight the shock. Take another sip."

"No."

"For me?"

Only Daniel could have gotten him to do it. Jack took one more gulp, pulled another disgusted expression before saying, "Nuff."

"Okay. Why don't you close your eyes and try to sleep?"

"What, so I can strangle you again?"

"You weren't after me. You were killing…"

"Hathor. But you got the brunt of it." Jack's icy tone held no forgiveness for himself—only a simmering anger at losing control.

"Doesn't matter."

"Damn it! It does matter. I hate her for what she did to me but even more for what she did to you."

"Don't," Daniel pleaded, quickly turning away before the tears in his eyes could be seen.

Too late. Jack had. They sparked a fresh wave of rage as did his companion's defensive self-hug. "I'm sorry for letting her do that to you again, Danny."

"Please stop."

Something internal was screaming at Jack to listen, to bury it away again, but he couldn't seem to halt the words spewing from his lips. "She used you in front of me. I remember. I can't stop remembering since I woke up tonight."

"No."

"After she cut your hair, took it like a prize, she used you like the bitch in heat she was."

"God, no."

Despite the shuddery whisper, Jack plunged on. "And you're upset because you didn't step forward to stop her from letting that damn snake get me? God, I'm surprised you could even think after the things she put you through."

"I-I don't remember. Don't want to. I'm just glad you killed her."

"And I wish I could do it again only slower."

"You got her, Jack. S'all that counts." Daniel moved away from him to stand at the darkened window. His arms remained wrapped around his chest like a shield.

She can't use me again.

Jack heard the words without Daniel saying them and wished they were true. Until they both dealt with what had happened, the self-proclaimed goddess would continue to mentally violate them. Jack had a horrible suspicion the things he did remember were only the tip of the pyramid. Yet, he didn't have the courage to rip Daniel and himself open without the numbing effect of whiskey to blunt the experience.

He eyed Daniel's bowed shoulders. Even from the back, the man's posture expressed extreme weariness and fear. Daniel was beyond tired, but he wouldn't allow himself to sleep. Not when he had to look after Jack and not when the psychological monsters were hunting him.

"Daniel. Talk to me."

"Outside looks like a Christmas song." The civilian's breath fogged the window, hiding the haunted expression reflected there.

"Which one?" Jack clutched the change of subject willingly.

"The midnight clear one."

"Hear them singing, do you?"

"Who?" Daniel turned, misery and confusion warring for dominance on his face.

"The angels," Jack said gently with a crooked smile.

"I used to when I was young."

Hearing a little boy lost in the admission, Jack encouraged, "You did?"

Daniel came closer again, moving towards the sofa as if the circle of Jack's presence could beat the demons of memory back. He settled on the floor with a heartfelt sigh. "Yeah. Looked up into the sky at Christmas and knew they were watching out for me."

"How could you be sure?"

As if he could no longer keep his neck straight, Daniel leaned his head against the edge of the couch. "My parents were with them. They always took care of me." A tired sigh punctuated the admission.

Unlike me. Regret lanced Jack's heart. He always wanted to stand between his team and trouble, especially with Daniel since danger was so fond of the man, but things never seemed to work out that way. He moved his hand and laid it atop the soft crown of hair near him. Daniel didn't stir under the touch. Jack waited, listening to the quiet crackle of logs as it counterbalanced his friend's soft, steady breathing.

"Danny?" The inquiry was a wisp of sound.

When no answer came, Jack smiled slightly and allowed sleep to catch him up, his fingers still protecting the top of Daniel's head. "Listen to the angels," he murmured as slumber pulled him under.

*

"Give me another swig, Joe-Bob."

Henry squinted and frowned at Clay. The man had had too much whiskey as it was. He didn't want them so hungover they couldn't hunt in the morning. Frowning at the firelight striping their faces, he snarled, "That's enough. Time for us to turn in."

"We shoulda went back to the trucks," Joe-Bob whined.

"And lose the trail? You ain't going sissy on me are ya?" Derision narrowed Henry's eyes.

"He ain't." Clay sounded sure of it.

"Good. Then get ta sleep." Henry rose, went over to his makeshift snow dwelling, and crawled to its center. Darkness surrounded him, only broken by a slight orange flicker from their campfire. He liked it this way. Shadows hid everything except the truth. Hunkered in the all-weather sleeping bag he'd retrieved from his truck, Henry settled to sleep with a smile of anticipation cracking his lips. It might be Christmas night, but he'd have the fun of unwrapping things in the morning.

*

A moan of protest rumbled in Daniel's chest as he moved his legs and found them full of pinpricks. He opened his eyes, blinking against the brilliant sunlight slanting over the windowsill. Why did he hurt like hell and feel as stiff as an ancient Jaffa? Confusion held him still for a moment before he recalled where he was. Jack!

Daniel craned his neck to see the soldier asleep on the couch, his mouth half open in a soft snore. Beneath his stubble, Jack's color looked better in the morning light. Pink replaced the gray overtones of his cheekbones. Thank goodness his fever blush had faded. Unconsciously, Daniel reached out to test the skin on his friend's forehead, smiling slightly as he found it normal to the touch. He pulled his hand away without Jack stirring—a sure sign of how much their ordeal and sickness had drained the other man.

Rising quietly, Daniel winced as his wounded leg objected to the weight of his body. He'd doctored it yesterday before Jack woke from the Hathor nightmare. A cut ran from his thigh to his knee but wasn't too deep. He'd hissed as he'd cleaned it with rubbing alcohol. Now, gratitude filled him because the pain was more of the healing than the infected variety.

With a glance towards the cold ashes in the fireplace, he grabbed his ski jacket and zipped it. The cabin might be snug in other ways, but it could have used central heat. Daniel pulled on his gloves and limped his way to the door. He slipped outside to retrieve more firewood, being careful to latch the door tightly so the slight morning breeze wouldn't steal inside and wake his companion.

Staring at the cloudless blue sky, he felt his heart lift. If Jack was doing better today, he might be able to leave him alone and attempt hiking to the road. He probably should have done it yesterday, but exhaustion had muddled his brain. Now, even with a night spent next to a couch on a hardwood floor, he could feel his mind making the proper connections again.

I'm damned proud of you, Daniel. Jack's praise from last night filtered into his brain, bringing a small smile to his lips. Weariness and fear had prevented him from seeing the truth last night, but his friend's words soothed his pride in the clear light of morning. He had beaten the odds for both of them. If he had given up, they would be frozen corpses now. Jack was right. He couldn't be blamed for the actions of a trio of jerks. What he was responsible for was getting his friend some medical help.

Tromping through the waist-high snowdrifts around to the side where the wood was stocked under a lean-to, Daniel figured the road couldn't be very far. He'd build a nice crackling fire, lay in a stock of wood so Jack wouldn’t have to go outside, make some food, and head out. He should reach the highway by noon which meant his friend would be in a doctor's care by sunset.

A happy whistle tickled his lip as he picked up snow dusted logs and piled them against his chest. If the soldier was safely tucked away in the base infirmary bed, Daniel would commandeer a TV and VCR. How could Jack bitch when he kept him amused with his favorite hockey plays? The sport bored him silly, but if that was what the man wanted to watch, so be it. Anything as long as he felt better.

Anything so you don't have to talk about what he said last night. His good mood fading abruptly, he frowned and shook his head. He was safe. Hathor was dead. Jack would be fine. Nothing could bother him on Earth on such a bright, sunshiny day.

"Ain't ya gonna go inside and snuggle?"

The rough question startled Daniel. He dropped several logs, one narrowly missing his boot as he spun to face the speaker. The sight of sandy brown hair gutpunched him.

"Whassamatter, prettyboy? Didn't think you'd see me again?"

Daniel had to swallow hard before he could force the words past the dryness in his throat. "Not really. No." He took a step away from the trucker from the market and backed directly into the Neanderthal's two accomplices. They grabbed him, the cruel action wrestling the rest of the logs from his hands. Wood spilled forward and hit sandy-hair.

"Son of a bitch," the man snarled, holding his shin and glaring.

A pleased smile tugged at Daniel's mouth before anger erased it. "You ran us off the road. What in hell where you thinking?" Gloved fingers tightened on his biceps, eliciting a wince.

"Let me teach him, Henry," begged a rough voice.

Daniel struggled to free himself before Henry's hard fist smashed his midsection, whooshing the air from his lungs. Gasping, he doubled over as far as his attackers would allow. A hand threaded through his short hair and jerked his head up.

"I was thinkin' I did good by killing Nancy-boys. Guess God helps those who help themselves. I get another chance."

For a long moment, Daniel could only stare numbly at the inhuman rage darkening the other's eyes. How weird to have someone hate him so much they wanted to kill him on Earth. Most of the time, only Goa'ulds reserved that look for him. As a thick hand raised above him, Daniel felt Jack's personality possess him one more. He only had time to snap, "Bite me," before pain pummeled his left cheekbone. The fist came again, splitting his lip and bringing the thick rawness of blood into his mouth.

"Bastard."

The word heralded a stinging slap as if they thought so little of his masculinity they decided he wasn't worth punching. Another slap. Then another and another. Vision blurred around the sidelines as his mind tried to shut out the abuse.

"Strip his jacket and shirt."

Dazed by the mistreatment, Daniel still found the strength to fight them as they took his clothing, but the large trio were too much for him. His flannel shirt was ripped into pieces, and a large strip shoved into his mouth, preventing his cries from escaping. Cold air nipped his exposed skin before the merciless fists returned. Material gagged Daniel's scream as they pounded his back over his right kidney. This time when pain drove him to his knees, the men released him, allowing him to fall.

The shock of icy wetness against his legs slightly revived Daniel. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen, his breath coming in ragged pants against the flannel in his mouth as he desperately tried to remember how to breathe through his nose. He attempted rising, but unrelenting fingers took hold of him again and forced him to remain on his knees. A rush of stubbornness tightening his jaw, Daniel tried to jerk free of their paws and get up.

"No, you don't," Henry said, viciously backhanding him.

Starbursts of black exploded in Daniel's vision as his head rocked to one side. He began to fall, but his shoulders never touched the ground as the hurtful grips tightened. Fresh blood welled in his mouth, partially soaking into the cloth. Nausea boiled as he was forced to swallow the rest of the metallic-tasting stuff.

As feral anger darkened Henry's eyes, the black, pockmarked trucker suggested, "Take it out of his hide."

His fist raised high, Henry stopped. An eager smile exposed yellowed teeth as he tilted his head. "Good idea, Clay." He unbuckled his belt.

The action surged panic through Daniel. He pushed up from the snow and was brutally slammed back. Knuckles smashing into the unprotected small of his back stunned him with an onslaught of agony. A groan escaped only to be partially muffled by the gag. Don't puke. Don't puke. You'll suffocate. The thoughts flickered across his brain and were lost in the misery of his body. Daniel tried not to black out. Unconsciousness would keep him from fighting. No matter how badly it hurt, he would not go gently. Leather cracked in front of his nose as Henry tightly jerked the belt wrapped around both gloved fists. Daniel's eyes widened. It was not what he'd expected.

"Bet you disappointed your folks. Bet your pa would do this if he could."

As Henry leaned close to his face, Daniel tried not to smell the man's sour whiskey breath. Coverstones falling with a solid thump. Anguished cries before silence, shouts, and pooling blood. No. No. I won't think of it. Narrowing his gaze, Daniel forced a glare to erase the misery in his eyes.

"Either way, you're overdue for a beatin'. Bet if your pa had done this, you might've turned out normal. Hold him."

The man's ugly face disappeared from Daniel's pain-glazed sight. Hands dug into his shoulders and arms as the world spun. White snow upended. Blue sky became the ground for a brief moment. A faint breeze whispered over his freezing skin, stirring even more goose bumps to cover the raised flesh. The warble of a bird lifted Daniel's head. Surprise clarified things for one extended heartbeat.

Snap of leather.

A burning slash across his naked back sucked color from the world.

Another crack eclipsed his breath.

As the belt struck once more, Daniel clamped down hard on the cloth in his mouth, determined not to voice his cry of torment. At least he kept the buckle in his hand. It was small comfort as leather bit into the tender skin between his shoulder blades, and the wet warmth of blood traced his spine.

"Why don't he scream?" whined the third trucker.

"Shut up, Joe-Bob. You ain't hittin' him hard enough, Henry," Clay complained.

The derision prompted a powerful blow. Daniel bit the cloth so hard his jaw felt broken. His vision fuzzed around the edges, and he inhaled as deeply as he could through his nose. Cold air stung his lungs, bringing a momentary clarity before fresh misery came on the heels of another brutal impact. The crack rent the air. His mind tripped backward at the sound.

Despair filling his chest like wet sand, Daniel stared unblinking at the chains suspended from the ceiling. They circled Jack's wrists, keeping his toes inches off the floor so the weight dragged cruelly on his arms and shoulders. Dried streaks of old blood covered the other man's torso, evidence of the torture he'd withstood. Yet, the compassion and bitter regret on O'Neill's face had nothing to do with his own suffering. His concentration remained focused on Daniel as if his will alone would expunge the memory of the games Hathor had forced them to play. Managing a slight nod, Daniel closed his eyes. If Jack wanted him to forget, he would. It was a small thing to ask.

"Bet if we get his lover out here he'll beg." Clay's grip disappeared as the black man headed for the back of the cabin.

Stunned, Daniel watched him go. Pain prevented him from trying to follow. He swayed forward, his left arm extended to break his fall, but the man on his right jerked him upright.

"Scream," Henry growled. "Scream now, and I won't hurt your lover."

How do they expect me to scream with this gag in my mouth?

There was a whipping sound before blistering agony seared Daniel's back. He couldn't stop the tears from burning his eyes, but he fiercely shook his head. They wouldn't get anything from him by threatening Jack. Even though the tip of the leather could catch him on the face, Daniel risked looking in the cabin's direction. Jack. They're going to get Jack! Through a blur of moisture and suffering, he saw a figure standing on the porch.

"Leave him alone," Jack shouted, rifle raised high, dead-aimed at Henry's head.

Air suddenly disappeared as Henry shifted, bringing Daniel in front of him like a shield, his thick, hairy arm squashing Daniel's throat.

"Don't like me messin' with the boy?" Henry sneered.

"His name is Daniel, and you'd better leave him alone before your brains are scattered all over his face."

"Tough words for a queer." Henry jerked his forearm tighter as he ducked lower behind his living protection.

"I'm not gonna warn you again. Let. Him. Go."

Dark spots bubbling in front of his eyes as his air supply grew more limited, Daniel did the only thing he could do to help Jack. He allowed the trucker to support his full weight, hoping to throw the other man off balance.

"Sneaky bastard," Henry growled, realizing what Daniel was attempting to do and compensating for the drag on his body by shifting his stance. He tore the gag from Daniel's mouth, leaving it to hang like a damp noose around his neck.

A rifle report cracked the clear air, the sound vibrating between the mountains in a sharp-edged echo.

"Then again…"

The pressure on Daniel's neck unexpectedly disappeared and with it, the support holding him. He fell forward into the snow, gasping as frozen white scratched his stubbled face. The abrupt motion aggravated his wounded shoulders, and he couldn't stifle an escaping groan. Buzzing filled his head, a prelude to unconsciousness, but he fought it. There was no way he was going to let Jack manage these idiots alone. Daniel forced his arms to obey him and pushed up from the icy ground. Before he could make it all the way, a gloved hand threaded through his short hair and jerked him into a standing position. Daniel's lips parted in a strangled cry.

From nearby, a bit back shout accompanied it.

"Jack!" Daniel frantically tried to make his vision focus on the cabin's porch. When he did, despair drowned him. The man had been tackled from behind, causing him to lose his grip on the rifle. It now lay like a black, accusing finger on the white ground. As he watched, Daniel saw Clay pummel Jack with his fist. The wounded soldier tried to fight back, but his injuries hampered his efforts.

"Now, the real fun begins," Henry snickered.

Twin pairs of brutal hands propelled Daniel forward.

"Can't wait to get my ass out of the cold," Joe-Bob huffed, wheezing at the effort of half-dragging their prisoner.

"We'll heat his ass up," Henry promised with a vicious shake for Daniel.

"Oh boy. Oh boy." Joe-Bob's voice climbed in excitement.

Dazed by the mistreatment and the exposure to the freezing air, Daniel kept his gaze riveted to Jack's struggling form, hoping against reason his friend would be able to best the odds. "No," he begged in a hoarse whisper as Clay delivered another slug to the side of O'Neill's head, sending him crashing against the side of the cabin. Jack slid down the rough log wall and lay insensible.

Clay's deep laughter rumbled the air as he grabbed the scruff of O'Neill's flannel shirt and dragged him inside the structure.

Daniel caught a glimpse of Jack's bare toes before the doorway swallowed them. He stumbled, nearly going to his knees, but relentless fingers kept him moving. Clay appeared again, retrieved the rifle, and went back inside.

"Eager, ain't ya?"

Spit splattered Daniel's face at Joe-Bob's question. God. If the thought of what's coming makes him salivate, how bad is it going to be? Fear churned his stomach, burning his throat with a fresh surge of bile. Anger followed fear and tightened his chin. "Leave Jack alone. He's got nothing to do with what happened in the market."

"We're gonna teach him an Air Force Colonel's got no right being a homo," Henry promised. "You should've died in the Jeep."

Daniel swallowed with difficulty. These creeps had checked the wreck and found something which told them Jack was in the service. That meant they'd wanted to see bodies and weren't satisfied being mere bullies. The realization they'd really intended to kill them knotted Daniel's abdomen. "You got it wrong," he protested as they manhandled him over the cabin's steps. "Jack's a war hero and as straight as you guys." He didn't bother to add anything about his own sexual preference because he figured they'd already formed their opinion of him. In his experience, a closed mind rarely saw the truth, and he'd learned not to waste his breath.

"Then, we'll give him a hero's burial right after yours. First, he gets to watch what we're gonna do with his sweetheart," snickered Henry.

Daniel didn't see the fist cuffing the back of his head. Light exploded with a burst of pain. He pitched forward and landed on his hands and knees in front of the couch.

"Now that's what I call assumin' the position."

Low, derisive laughter assaulted Daniel's ears. Clay's words made him feel as if scum coated his skin, making him yearn for a scrub brush to get clean. Daniel lifted his head despite an immediate stab of agony in his neck. "Jack?" he asked as his vision clarified. They'd wrapped ropes around the older man's arms and feet. It was hard to tell if he was breathing, and for a long heart-stopping moment, Daniel doubted he was. Then, his mind catalogued the fact they'd trussed Jack. There would be no need to tie a corpse. Yet, from the uncomfortable angle of Jack's neck, he was clearly unconscious.

The door banged closed, making Daniel jump. As the cabin plunged into semi-darkness, he couldn't repress a shiver.

"Come on, pretty boy. Strip. You know you want us."

Ignoring Henry's order, Daniel wet his too dry lips with his tongue and asked softly, "Jack?" Hope quickly waned. O'Neill was out cold and was well away from this hell. Glancing out the corner of his eyes at Joe-Bob's flushed, excited face, Daniel felt his palms go clammy. Maybe it was a good thing Jack wasn't awake. His friend wouldn't have to watch what these monsters planned for them.

"I said get your pants off." Henry's lethal warning chilled the room.

"Screw you," Daniel snapped, trying to stand. A fist crashed into the side of his head and sent him sprawling. The floor abraded his skin.

"Not gonna happen," Clay drawled, "at least to us."

The buzzing in his head demanding his attention, Daniel lay stunned. He was only marginally aware of the cold wood floor against his naked torso. Sickness rose in his gut, causing him to fight the impulse to vomit. He swallowed fiercely. No way was he going to help them.

"Can I have the soldier?" Clay loomed over O'Neill.

Daniel's eyes widened. Somehow, he thought they'd only kill Jack. Since when does death constitute an only? Jack, please, please don't wake.

"No." Henry shook his head. "Leave him alone for now."

"Why?" Puzzlement wrinkled Clay's forehead.

"He may be a homo, but he's also served his country. Watching what we do to his boy and killing him will be enough."

"But…"

"I said no!" Henry's voice grew hard.

"Then, I want to go first with him."

Panic sharpened Daniel's mind. They hated gays so much they wanted to have sex with him? It was textbook. You feared something because you desired it so much it had to be destroyed. It didn't matter if he was heterosexual. They only had to think what they wanted about him to treat him as a thing instead of a person.

"Daniel?"

At Jack's question, Daniel looked at his friend and tried to force reassurance into his features at the sight of the fresh pain he saw on O'Neill's face. "You hurt bad?"

"I should be asking you…"

Before he could finish, Clay smacked Jack's head.

"Ow!" O'Neill struggled with the ropes, but they held fast.

"Leave him…" Daniel tried to protest, but Henry and Joe-Bob stopped him by hauling him to his feet. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as his body objected.

"Shut up." Joe-Bob reinforced his order by twisting Daniel's arm behind his back.

Without warning, they shoved him towards the kitchen table. The oak rim punched Daniel in the stomach as he was bent over its surface. Air flew from his mouth in a gasp of pain. He bit his lip, refusing to give in to the need to cry out. His arm was pushed so high up his back it felt broken. He sucked in air filled with whiskey and tobacco stench, and jerked as the cell phone plopped on the table near his head.

"You sons of bitches, get the hell off him before I kill…" Jack shouted.

Another smack of fist meeting flesh and a swallowed groan told Daniel his friend had paid for his defiance. Harsh breathing sounded behind him.

"Daniel!" The rest of Jack's warning was lost as something gagged his speech.

"You have a choice," Henry whispered into Daniel's ear. The oily smell grew as the man's dirty body pressed against his. "We can do him or you. But if you cooperate, we'll make his death quick. Now, who's it gonna be?"

Daniel's mind spun in ever shrinking circles as the cool tabletop numbed his suddenly overheated skin. Him. Jack. Him. Jack. "Neither," he hissed as Joe-Bob increased the pressure on his arm. A fist hammered his back. Pain flared, whirling away reason for a brief moment.

"Wrong answer. Choose." Henry's hard tone said it was the last time the deal would be on the table.

A terrible sense of bitterness clogged Daniel's mind. What did it matter what they did to him? They were going to kill them both, but if he could spare Jack even a small measure of suffering, he was willing to endure anything. After all, he should be used to violation by now. Hathor had used him at least twice. His mind skittering away from the thought, Daniel whispered, "M-me." Rude laughter made him shiver and dried his mouth to cotton.

"Thought so." Sweating in eagerness, Joe Bob's free hand ran down his flank.

Hearing O'Neill's muffled protest, Daniel closed his eyes, determined to be strong even in this. Another involuntary shiver worked its way across his spine as if his skin was trying to crawl away from Henry's work-roughened thumb rubbing his bicep on the other side. No tenderness existed in the gesture. It was simply staking a claim as if he was the man's property and his to do with as he liked. His tremors became more pronounced at the thought of being naked in front of these men.

"I'm first." The rasp of a zipper punctuated Clay's announcement.

"No, you ain't," Henry said.

"Yes, I am. I ain't taking sloppy seconds again."

Again? How many people have they done this to?

"Fine." Henry's brusque agreement confirmed he wasn't happy about the decision but wouldn't fight it. "Free his arm so he can undo his pants."

"I'll strip him," Joe-Bob said, his hot breath raising the hair on the back of Daniel's neck as he let his fingers roam again.

"Nope," Henry denied. "Let him. He done it for soldier-boy here. He can do it for us."

Daniel nearly shouted as the bruising grip vanished. Blood rushed back into his abused limb, and he carefully pulled it around as he straightened away from the table. Both arms came up in a defensive hug, the only protection he could manage. He faced his tormenters and winced at the lust radiating from their sweaty, dirt-streaked faces. This would be beyond bad. If he survived the multiple rapes, he'd want them to kill him. His lower lip trembled before he could prevent it. Biting it, Daniel refused to look at Jack. If he did, he'd falter in his decision. If he did, Jack would pay the price.

"I said, get your pants down." Henry's eyes narrowed.

Joe-Bob licked his lips in anticipation, the gap tooth gesture exposing remaining rotten teeth.

Clay just stood there, his gaze holding the dead glitter of a snake.

"I-I can't." Daniel intended to obey, get this over as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t for the life of him remove his clothing. His brain simply wouldn't tell his ice-cold fingers how to function. It didn't matter it was a simple trick of unbuttoning the fly to his 501's or that he'd done it countless times without thinking. For some reason, he couldn't do this now.

"Let me help." Clay grinned, pulling out a large hunting knife, testing the tip of it against his tongue and drawing a droplet of blood. He slowly cut the air with it as if practicing how to peel flesh from bones.

Daniel's desperate gaze riveted on the rusty blade, seeing the flash of silver in the muted light as the man stepped towards him. Clay's mouth moved in words, but Daniel didn't hear them.

Time spiraled to utter stillness. Forbidden memory assaulted him mercilessly.

We own him, Tau'ri. He is ours to do with as we will.

Leave him alone, snakebitch. If you hurt a hair on his head...

A serpentine knife flashing in the dimmed light. What will you do if we do? Let me see. What about this hair? And this one? And this?

The blade moved over his scalp like a cruel lover's caress, biting slightly before soothing with a flat, heated rub.

God. Why can't I move? What did she give me? I—I don't remember. Her hands are so cold…so cold. No. That's the knife. God, no!

Ointment slick fingers fondled him intimately, the blade in one taloned hand hovering close. It scraped his inner thigh tentatively as if seeking tissues even more delicate. Despite his horror at her touch, a burning began in Daniel's groin in response to the unguent she'd slathered over his tender skin. His mouth opened as his throat tensed with a scream. No sound. Had he even parted his lips? Maybe, that was an illusion too. God, so many days. So many sick, cruel fantasies played out with him as the victim of her desire. Why was he responding, the one part of him straining with urgent need while the rest of him lay quiescent under her manipulative hands.

Die. Die, dammit! Why won't you die? God, please don't let her do this. Can I turn my head? Close your eyes. Concentrate. Concentrate! Picture Jack. You know he's over there to your right. Yeah! I think I'm moving my chin. Come on, Daniel! You can do it.

As something wet, warm, and hungry enveloped the center of him, Daniel shuddered and lost focus. His eyes opened to see her cruel face, enraptured by his unwilling submission. Hathor flung her head back and used him with fierce determination. She would take the code of life he so desperately ached to deny her.

"Daniel?"

Pressure built, but Daniel still heard Jack's yell. It revived his courage. Any embarrassment of his friend having to watch this travesty quickly faded with the hope the soldier would take his gun and blast the bitch to hell. "Jack?" he said, the name a husk in his mouth. "Help." Daniel knew he didn't have to say more. Jack hadn't been there the other two times she'd bled him dry, but he was here now. He'd stop this.

Evil laughter bubbled from Hathor's red lips. "Beloved fool," she said on a breath, bending over him to steal a kiss without breaking her violating rhythm.

Daniel's drugged body didn't even have the sense to gag at the invasion of her tongue in his mouth. Any minute. Any second Jack's bullet will make fresh red in your hair before it disintegrates into pulp. Jack? What's taking you so long? Jack? I'm going to…to… God…no… NO! Daniel's eyelids slid shut as his body betrayed him. Tears squeezed out from the corners to wet the short hair at his temples.

"Turn him around."

Daniel felt the harsh hands on his upper arms squeeze with enough pressure to create fresh bruises over the old. He was spun away and slammed down on a flat surface his mind no longer recognized.

"Gonna ram it home, boy. Best fuck you'll ever have."

"Leave some for me, Clay. He's gotta take us all