Trust

Part One

There was a moment of silence in the huge chamber after the alien, Hasfar, had spoken. The four of them were trying to grapple with what this would mean, for them, and for their friendship, and most of all, for Daniel.

"You can't do this to us," O'Neill said quietly. "You can't do this to him."

The alien smiled. "Leave then. No one is keeping you here."

"And leave Daniel Jackson with you?" Teal'c demanded.

Hasfar shrugged. "I've told you the conditions under which you may leave here with him. If you don't wish to comply…"

"This is a rigged deck, Hasfar," O'Neill returned. "Any way we play the hand we have, we lose."

Carter added bitterly, "You've arranged things so that whatever we do, Daniel suffers."

"But you have the choice of what you lose: your friend's self-respect, or your friend's liberty."

"You're saying the word 'friend' here, but I don’t think you have any idea what it means."

"Someone for whom you are willing to make sacrifices, no?" Hasfar looked at O'Neill. "I know I want him. I know that I could have you all killed and keep him. I know that I'm giving you a way whereby you can save him from me if you want to."

"Have you ever heard of a cure being worse than the disease?" O'Neill gritted his teeth. "Except no, it isn't, is it – quite. You're such a sick sadistic son-of-a-bitch that whatever you make us do to him it still won't be quite as bad as him having to endure a lifetime of you – or even an hour of you."

Looking into those pitiless alien eyes he knew why Hasfar was doing this, the bastard was hoping to have his cake and eat it; watch them effectively break Daniel's spirit for him and then fail at the last fence so he would get to keep the shredded remains to rend and abuse until Hasfar became bored with his new toy and let him die. O'Neill couldn't even be sure that wouldn't happen. But they had tried every means at their disposal to break out from this place and strength, ingenuity, and determination had all proven useless. Daniel was Hasfar's captive and it had been made abundantly clear to them that the only way to rescue him was to play by Hasfar's rules.

They had been captured by the man's guards twenty-four hours before; Teal'c badly wounded in the fight, the rest of them quickly overcome. They had all been disarmed, dragged in front of the magnificently robed tyrant in chains and then forced to kneel. His silk cloak had covered half the staircase as he descended to look at them. He had gazed on Teal'c first and said, "Such strength!" Then he had put a finger underneath Carter's head and raised her head so that he could gaze at her. "Such beauty!" He had looked at her for a long time and O'Neill had felt his fingers clench in frustration, wondering how the hell he was going to protect her from this maniac's obvious lust. But then the man had passed onto Daniel, taken a handful of the archaeologist's long hair in his fingers and wrenched his head up cruelly. Hasfar had caught his breath then, gazing on the young man as though he couldn't believe his luck and O'Neill had wondered what the hell it was Hasfar was seeing that was making his eyes expand with rapture. Sure, Daniel was certainly a good-looking kid despite the geeky glasses but he wasn't that special; and especially not when he was kneeling right next to Carter who by any criteria was stunning. The tyrant's next words had chilled him to the quick. "Such…innocence," Hasfar breathed.

O'Neill knew he wasn't a clever guy; Daniel and Carter probably had more book-learnt intelligence in their little fingers that he did in his whole head; but he did know people and he did sometimes get these flashes of inspiration that told him more than whole library of reference books in a single instant. And suddenly, he knew what kind of a creature Hasfar was. It dissolved inside him like a poisoned icicle. Because he realized in that millisecond of revelation that although Hasfar would have loved to watch that great strength of Teal'c's worn down and reduced to struggling weakness by cruelty, starvation, and slow erosion, or seen that beauty of Carter's ruined bit by bit by methods too horrible to contemplate; strength and beauty were things that he had broken before; while destroying Daniel's innocence, taking that childlike candor and faith, and shredding it beyond repair was a prospect so novel and so enticing to this sadist that he was never going to let them go until it was accomplished. For a second O'Neill almost wondered if Daniel realized it as well, if those trusting blue eyes had gazed into those pitiless orbs of the alien's and read his own fate in them. He couldn't bear that prospect either.

"God, no!" O'Neill exclaimed before he could stop himself. "Don't. Just, please, don't."

Hasfar was stroking a finger down Daniel's cheekbone now, gazing into the young man's face as though mesmerized. "Oh, but I must."

Thinking that the alien intended to rape Daniel and knowing that it would be even worse for the young civilian than it would be for her both in terms of the physical damage it would do him and the resulting psychological trauma he had never been trained by the forces to deal with, Carter said through gritted teeth, "Look, why don't you just leave Daniel alone? I'm sure you and I could come to some arrangement…?"

"Sam, no!" Daniel turned and looked at her in shocked surprise. "You don't need to protect me just because I'm not a soldier."

"Daniel, it isn't just that." Carter couldn't say, 'No, but I do need to protect you because you're Daniel' but nevertheless it was true. Daniel didn't just need protecting; he deserved protection, the way children did; and not just his outer shell but some inner glowing core of him that had to be kept intact, for all their sakes.

"Your ways are not known to us," Teal'c told Hasfar. "But in many cultures it is traditional for some form of trial by combat to take place, where one warrior may represent his entire tribe. If this is also your tradition, I would be happy to duel with any champion of your choice for the lives of my companions."

If O'Neill hadn't known the Jaffa as well as he did, he would have thought Teal'c was as impassive as he sounded, but there was a bright bead of sweat standing out on his dark temple that showed he too was aware of the danger Daniel was in. O'Neill thought that round about now if he could have really convinced himself that all this bastard wanted was to tie Daniel to his bedpost for a couple of hours, well, bad as that was, he could have lived with it. He'd never thought he would have been relieved to get off a planet with nothing worse than one of his team getting raped, but right now he would have settled for it almost gratefully.

Daniel said, "Teal'c, you're injured."

"My symbiote will soon heal me, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c gave the slighter man an anxious look but Daniel was looking at Hasfar.

He said, "If I'm the one you want then take me and let my companions go."

O'Neill could see that Daniel was banking on being able to change this man's mind; hoping he'd be able to reach that core of reasonableness he obstinately persisted in believing existed in the heart of every sentient being; soften Hasfar; win him over; communicate with him, and even if he couldn't, well at least the others would be safe and whatever trials he had to endure at his captor's hands would be cushioned by the knowledge that the others had got away. It was touching, stupid, and terribly Daniel. Hasfar was a monster whose heart was pure pitch and what felt like the most solid comfort dissolved to cobweb in the midst of torture.

O'Neill decided to lay it on the line, not waste any more time letting Hasfar toy with them. He said, "OK, tell me what I have to do to get my people out of here alive." He didn't say 'undamaged' or 'in the condition in which you found them', he knew that wasn't an option: free and alive, that was all he was asking for.

"More than you might want to do," Hasfar told him softly.

"I know what you are. I know what you want. What do I have to offer you to make it worth your while to give that up?" He deliberately didn't look at Daniel as he spoke but he thought he saw a flicker in the tyrant's eyes, an unwilling spasm of recognition and respect. O'Neill continued steadily, his brown-eyed gaze never leaving the other's face, "I was never much of a one for bartering so name your price and I'll try to meet it."

"Jack, you shouldn't – "

Daniel leant across to murmur it in his ear and the feel of the younger man's breath against his cheek was almost unbearable when O'Neill knew the danger he was in. To have Daniel kneeling next to him a bare six inches away, unscathed and so much himself, and know that this might be the last time the Daniel he knew ever spoke to him, twisted a knife in O'Neill's gut that almost made uncharacteristic tears start in his eyes. He said breathlessly, "Danny, be quiet. Let me handle this." He wanted to say, 'I'm going to get you out of this, I swear' but he couldn't bring himself to say it when he was rapidly coming to fear that it might not be true.

It had been a mistake to call him 'Danny'; he did it so infrequently he'd gotten everyone's attention. He could feel Daniel staring at him in surprise, worrying about him, no doubt, wanting to banish his concern; Carter and Teal'c sending him those silent waves of sympathy thinking they were all on the same page, all sitting here agonizing about Daniel getting raped when it was so much worse than that.

Hasfar motioned to two enormous guards and then pointed at Daniel. "Take this one away and put him in a cell."

As Teal'c and Carter started forward, O'Neill gave them a quick look and shook his head, telling them to quieten down for now, let this happen. He tried to speak to Daniel in an even voice, concerned, of course, but basically reassuring: "Hang in there, Daniel. Whatever happens, we're all in this together, OK? We're not going to leave you behind. I promise you I'm going to get us all home." He knew the words must sound pitifully inadequate not only to Daniel but to Carter and Teal'c, but in the circumstances he was afraid to promise any more than that.

"I know you will, Jack." Daniel said and then submitted to the two guards manhandling him away, trying not to look as scared as he clearly was but unable to stop himself throwing a last glance over his shoulder at them as he was marched away that felt like it ripped O'Neill's heart straight out of his chest.

Hasfar was watching the archaeologist being taken away with a smile on his lips. "Such sweetness," he said softly, "such touching faith."

"Don’t do this to Daniel," O'Neill said as soon as the door closed. "Don’t do it just because you can."

"Both his destruction and his salvation will lie in your hands, human," the other purred at him softly.

"I won't help you destroy him."

"Destruction. Salvation. Both lie along the same road: how far you choose to walk down it is up to you."

As Hasfar marched O'Neill to the third and final trial he said, "It is you he trusts above all others; you he relies upon to…"

"Tell me something I don't know," O'Neill retorted flatly.

A smile of triumph played around Hasfar's cruel lips. "You cannot do this."

"I can do whatever I have to do to get my people home," O'Neill told him in a voice bled white of all emotion. "And I can do whatever I have to do to keep Daniel away from a sadistic pervert like you."

"One word, one look, one single hesitation – " Hasfar warned.

"I know."

"It must be done wholeheartedly, and with hate. It must be exactly as we discussed or else it does not count and he stays with me."

"With the appearance of hate, perhaps," O'Neill returned, "but it will still be done with love." That wasn't a word he threw around easily but it was the only one that fitted here. There was no one else to whom he could have done something so terrible, because there was no one else he cared so much about. He was going to save Daniel's life and destroy their friendship in one go; smash it irretrievably; grind it to powder; things could never be the same between them again. But he would get to take Daniel home; get to take him away from Hasfar. It didn't matter how high the price was, he still had to pay it, and he knew it.

"This," Hasfar said gleefully, "even he will not be able to forgive."

"No." O'Neill looked at the alien with loathing. "But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you don't get to keep him."

"I will still win. You are about to destroy his trust, his innocence, his faith, and I will get to watch it done."

"Fine. We all go home winners." They were at the door now and O'Neill's throat was dry and painful. Please God let him be able to do this. Please God don't let compassion prevent him from going through with it. Daniel needed him to be able to do this, more than he needed O'Neill to be someone he could trust. When this was over and Daniel was out of hospital, he would still have Carter and Teal'c to trust, and he would be alive and free and safe on Earth, not chained to Hasfar's bed screaming in torment. Daniel had never needed him more than now. He couldn’t fail him.

It was degrading enough to have to try and get an erection in front of Hasfar's glittering eyes. The tyrant was already anticipating his failure, drunk on the prospect of new things that could be done to Daniel to shred him finer than tissue paper. O'Neill angrily rubbed his hand up and down his cock; what did you call this, he wondered, jerking off for Uncle Sam? How the hell could anyone get hard under these circumstances? But at last he managed it. An erection of sorts, a painful bulge against his zipper that was at least now technically capable of getting the job done. The job done…

Taking a deep breath, O'Neill reached out and opened the door.

He'd known that Daniel would be naked, of course, but it was still a shock to see it. A friend's body, one he must have seen a hundred times before in the showers but could never remember having seen until now, suddenly so exposed and vulnerable. Daniel was lying face down on the bed, spread-eagled and bound; those long legs now with blue bruising around the ankles from where he'd been chained up. God, he'd forgotten about the welts across his back, diagonal from right shoulder to the left side of his waist, still weeping. They were going to hurt as well, small comfort that the rest of the pain Daniel would be in would probably blot out that lesser stinging in his shoulders. Daniel looked very pale and slender without the disguising bulk of his clothes; so fragile and defenceless that O'Neill felt his own protective instincts automatically going into that familiar over-drive: Daniel, captive and injured, needing to be rescued, and O'Neill coming to the rescue: how often had they been here before. Except Daniel wasn't usually naked, and O'Neill wasn't usually expected to rape the archaeologist to save him.

Hasfar had been very adamant that there must be pain. It had to be done brutally, that was what the alien had said with a sickening smile, as brutally as possible. And yet, God, if the bastard had simply wanted to force him to have sex with a team-mate whom he didn't desire and who felt no desire for him – surely enough of a bad joke for most people – O'Neill could have got them both through this with the minimum of discomfort; a couple of jokes, of lot of extremely careful foreplay, plenty of lubricant; he and Daniel could have handled this like any other difficult assignment: something they had to do to get themselves home. Sure, it would have been embarrassing; sure, it would have taken a few weeks maybe before they could have looked each other in the eye; but ultimately it would have been just something else they'd done together, like digging a bullet out of a friend's shoulder: you both knew it was going to hurt, but hell, it had to be done, and you did it. This was different. This was him and Daniel both alone in their own completely separate hells, with no chance to confer, no chance to explain, no way of getting through it. There was a whole chasm of difference between sex neither of you wanted but that you had to endure, and sex one of you apparently wanted so much you were happy to rip the other to pieces to get it.

O'Neill thought of all the times that Daniel had turned to him with that unwavering faith in his eyes; standing there with a dead Sha're in his arms saying, "Wait for me." Christ, the kid hadn't even known him then; they'd hardly exchanged much above twenty words; but Daniel had believed in him even then; had known he'd wait when O'Neill hadn’t been to sure about it himself. Saying, "Jack, help me…" in that dungeon in Chulak as though the man could work miracles when there was nothing he could do except hold the linguist back and stop him getting himself killed. Such faith. Such trust. Whenever Daniel woke up from unconsciousness, injury, capture, it was always 'Jack…?' that he said first. O'Neill's guts turned over. All the more reason not to fail him now, he told himself shortly. All the more reason why you owe it to Daniel to get him out of here and away from this evil fucker. Any way you can.

Daniel said his name now, twisting painfully to look over his torn shoulder, knowing what this position meant and afraid of who was coming to take advantage of it. Eyes widening in relief. "Jack." And then, because the kid wasn't stupid, realisation: " Jack…?" Difficult concept for Daniel to get his head round, clearly. Hey, Dannyboy, I'm having a few problems with this myself. No, don't even think endearments, nicknames, nothing soft, nothing gentle, nothing kind, nothing to remind you who this actually was; how much you cared about this guy, what you'd been through together, what you'd have given never to be the person hurting him. This was a body you had to fuck like you hated it. This was a body you were going to damage; bruise; tear. This was a body you were going to save from Hasfar any way you could.

O'Neill decided to approach this like any other tactical problem. There was no lubricant; he couldn't use his own spit without Hasfar calling that defaulting on his brief, that left only Daniel's. Also, he had to come, Hasfar had told him that, and no way was any of this going to turn him on; it was more like his worst nightmares come true. So, right, his cock in Daniel's mouth might be disgusting for the linguist, but it wouldn't injure him like a dry penis rammed inside his unlubricated back passage. And if O'Neill put his mind to it he could pretend it was someone else's throat wrapped around his cock, he might be able to get himself far enough on the road to orgasm that he could spend a lot less time brutally thrusting into his best friend.

He made his eyes as dead and cold as possible, because that was the other thing, of course, it wasn't enough for Hasfar to believe it, Daniel had to believe it too; if he didn’t lose his faith, Hasfar was going to keep them all here until he did, making them do more and more terrible things to the younger man until he got what he wanted. So, Daniel had to stop believing in him here and now. Dear God, O'Neill thought, make me do this; don't allow me to let him down; make me save him.

From somewhere he forced the anger into his voice. Unzipping himself with a kind of savage contempt, his eyes boring into Daniel's as though he wanted to do nothing other than rend him, he said shortly, "Open your mouth and suck me off right now, or I'll break your jaw before I ram this package down your throat."

He'd expected horror, revulsion, fear, but Daniel's damned brain was too quick for all of them. "God, Jack," he said softly, blue eyes full of compassion, "and I thought Teal'c got the short straw."

Because he couldn't bear to look at him, O'Neill just grabbed Daniel by the hair and pulled his head into the right position, thumbing his mouth open before he thrust from the hips. He almost gagged himself as he felt it go in. Daniel was coughing and spluttering against him. O'Neill realized then that he'd been harboring some faint hope until this point that the linguist might have had a secret life as an undergraduate he hadn't known about; some wild fling with a male student that would make this easier for him to bear; that maybe even Daniel would know more about this than he did and so be able to help a little. So many guys went through phases when they didn't know who or what they wanted to bed, why the hell couldn't Daniel have been one of them?

But this was very emphatically someone who'd never had a cock in his mouth before; had no idea what you did with it; how you could even breathe around it; his gag reflex was kicking in so strongly he was all-but vomiting. O'Neill gripped the younger man's hair tighter, holding him still, making himself prevent Daniel from pulling back, holding the linguist's face against his groin as he thrust with dogged desperation. He was never going to come. Was never going to be able to convince himself that this was Sara or Kinthia doing this for pleasure: this was someone he was choking; this was Daniel he was choking.

Mind control techniques. He'd had to learn them, right? And Teal'c had taught him a few more. Maybe he hadn't been as good at that mind over matter stuff as the Jaffa, but some of it had stuck. You could separate yourself from your body; that was what they taught you, mostly to help you endure interrogation under torture, you could float above yourself and watch dispassionately as you…as you rammed your cock down your best friend's throat…

Concentrate, he told himself savagely. Get through this. This had to be like a surgical attack: go in, get the job done; get out. Fast and painless as he could make it. Daniel's throat was working frantically as he struggled for breath. What if Daniel blacked out? Would it count? O'Neill knew where the carotid artery was, how to apply just the right amount of pressure to put the younger man out cold. Could O'Neill fuck him while he was unconscious and Hasfar still agree to let them go? No. Of course not. Where would be the fun in that? Sadists got off on suffering, and if Daniel wasn't awake he wouldn't be hurting, would he? O'Neill pulled out and unclenched his fingers from Daniel's hair, letting him fall back down onto the bed. The linguist's whole body was racked with coughs, eyes watering as he struggled for breath, gasping the oxygen back into his lungs.

Blunt trauma, O'Neill remembered dully, that was what you called that bruising at the back of the throat from the edge of a hand to the windpipe, or a cock thrust too far in. His penis was glistening with Daniel's saliva. Christ, this was as wet as he was going to get. Now. He had to do it now. And perhaps Daniel would be so busy trying to drag the air back into his lungs it might dull the pain a little. He moved behind him, reminding himself he was a soldier; 'I've done some damned distasteful things in my time…' Hadn't he said it to Hammond? Yeah, none of them including ripping his best friend to pieces, of course, but hell they always told you to be ready for anything.

Daniel was still coughing, kneeling on the bed, head hanging down as he spluttered and gasped, like someone prostrating himself before an unfeeling deity. It took every ounce of self-control O'Neill had not to whisper, "Sorry, Daniel," as he caught him by his narrow hips and pulled him up. Daniel felt so light in O'Neill's hands, the way cats felt when you picked them up, like his bones were half-hollow; there was no core there, no internal density. If he'd ever realized the linguist weighed as little as this he would have picked him up on Apophis' ship that time when he was so badly wounded; he'd thought it would be such a struggle to get Daniel over his shoulder from that position that he wouldn't be able to do it without hurting him terribly, and it had seemed so pointlessly cruel to move him when there was no hope of saving his life.

Saving his life. That was what he was supposed to be doing. Saving Daniel's life. He wanted to close his eyes, not to look at what he was doing, but this was no occasion to be hit and miss. This was the first, the only time in his life, when O'Neill had wished for a smaller cock. He'd always thought of himself as fairly average; reasonably impressive but nothing that actually deserved a monument put up to it; but suddenly his own cock seemed monstrous to him, a veined, pulsating gargantuan thing. Oh shit, he thought. Oh fuck, Oh Danny, I'm so sorry. He hated himself, in that instant, just for being male; for having the equipment to do this to his friend.

It went against every humanitarian instinct to do it this way. That ring was still tight; the hole he was aiming for impossibly small and impenetrable: ten minutes, three fingers, a lot of patient foreplay, and a bottle of olive oil might just about have made the younger man accessible, but it would probably still have hurt; however slow he'd taken it; however much lubricant and fingering he'd used; having eight inches of gristle inserted, however carefully, into an opening that untried and unready was always going to hurt. This, on the other hand, was going to –

Daniel screamed.

O'Neill shuddered with the horror of it; the younger man's agony reverberating through him more painfully than a knife wound. In fact, he would have welcomed a knife wound, welcomed anyone hurting him as much as he was hurting Daniel at this moment. It was taking every shred of self-control he had not to pull out as quick and clean as he could and start sobbing an apology. But he could still hear his own words in his head: I promise you I'm going to get us all home. This was the only way Daniel was ever going home. O'Neill thrust again. And again. Daniel was trying to stifle his screams now; making a heroic effort to muffle them in the pillow, biting down on that gold satin cloth as his body convulsed; trying not to fight him, trying to breathe through it like it was childbirth, trying to hang in there and endure it but unable to stop himself attempting to get free from that inescapable bar stabbing so deep inside him.

As O'Neill slammed his hips forward, remembering Hasfar's warning: Brutal, it has to be brutal, feeling flesh bruise and tear, nausea rising in his throat, he could hear Daniel sobbing with the pain. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at what he was doing; those open cuts snaking with every thrust, the shockwaves rippling through that familiar yet suddenly unfamiliar body. In his head, he could hear Hasfar breathless with excitement, saying: Harder! Harder!

You fucking piece of shit. O'Neill knew the alien was revelling in this; not just the rape: Hasfar had watched ten thousand rapes, probably performed a thousand of his own; not even the physical pain, because he had devoured so much of the pain of others over the centuries that it probably couldn't move him as it once had; it was the anguish he was revelling in.

He had to keep thrusting. Had to. Even if it killed him. Perhaps it was killing Daniel. God alone knew how much damage he was doing here. Was Janet Fraiser ever going to be able to fix this? That fragile membrane tearing. He could feel the blood. Saliva, he told himself desperately, just saliva, not blood. People did this for fun, after all. But not like this, he couldn't stop the traitor thought reminding him; they don't do it like this. O'Neill closed his eyes as he desperately kept jamming his hips forward. I'm so sorry, Daniel. But I couldn't let that fucker keep you to torture. Anything was better than that. Even this. Even this.

Daniel moaned as he pulled the pillow from his mouth. He was almost fainting and O'Neill wished he'd just go ahead and faint. Instead, the linguist managed to murmur almost inaudibly between the thrusts, "I – trust you – Jack."

O'Neill seized the younger man by the hips and slammed him back onto himself as hard and deep as he could, then wrapped an arm around his waist so that he couldn't alleviate this new and unbearable level of penetration by moving away. Daniel was still crying out with the pain of the last thrust as O'Neill lent forward and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back, making his spine arch, forcing himself in an extra half an inch until he was buried in him right up until the root. Daniel was writhing in agony, speared and unable to escape, moaning loudly enough that O'Neill decided he had to risk it. As he pulled the younger man's head up higher, like someone revelling in the power he had over him, in the way this body was his to twist, mould and impale, O'Neill breathed almost silently in his ear: 'Then we'll never get out of here.' He dropped Daniel's head a second later as though he didn't want to soil his fingers with him; gripping those slender hips tightly as he made himself thrust hard and deep.

It was a terrible risk, of course. If Hasfar heard then it would all be for nothing. But the seconds passed and no guards burst into the room; there was no cackle of triumph, or cry of rage. Perhaps he'd said it too low for the alien to hear. Perhaps he'd said it too low for Daniel to hear…

"God, Jack, please…! Why, Jack? Why are you doing this to me?"

The desperation in that cry brought tears to his eyes. He had to wipe them away angrily as he kept up his automatic thrusting. From somewhere he found his voice, and said harshly, "Been wanting to get inside you for months, Danny boy. This was just the first chance I got. Why the hell did you think I ever let you come on the team in the first place?"

"No! Tell me you're lying? Please God, Jack…?"

"Noticed that great little ass of yours the first day we met. What, did you think I let you hang around with the grown-ups for some other reason? Have to tell you, Daniel, I thought you'd be tight, but I never knew you'd be this tight. Best fuck I ever had and then some…"

At least it was easing a little; Daniel's back passage was slicked with blood as well as spit now, and however cruelly the guardian ring had been stretched at least it had stretched. There was an obscene squelching noise to accompany each thrust.

"Please, Jack, please stop! I'm begging you, please! Don't do this to me any more…" Daniel was sobbing. "Please, Jack…I'll do anything you want, I swear…anything…it hurts so much, Jack…it hurts so much…"

Every hair was standing up on the back of his neck. This must be what eternal damnation was like. Your best friend brokenly begging you for mercy while you fucked him like he was nothing. Mind control. Had to get away from this being Daniel. Was never going to come while this was Daniel. Daniel…begging him, pleading with him, asking him what he'd done to make him hate him so…asking for forgiveness…promising he'd never be late for a mission again…never disobey an order again…would learn how to do anything Jack wanted in bed and do it, he swore, cross his heart and hope to die, if he'd only please stop doing this to him now…

"Please God, Jack…it hurts!…it hurts!…"

Kinthia. Think Kinthia. So beautiful. Those eyes. Those lips. Breasts. Think of the breasts of every woman he'd ever slept with. What nipples tasted like, the irresistible flavor of them. Sara's face at the point of orgasm. The way she'd sighed his name like it was the only possible answer to a question she'd been asking for years. Yes. He could do this. Sara. The way her lips felt against his mouth. The look in her eyes when he'd come back home alive. Think of their honeymoon, when they were so young and passionate; that night by the lakeside. God, yes! Yes!

He'd done it. Perhaps the most perfunctory, the barest quiver of an orgasm he'd ever had; but the seed was at least expelled, out of him and inside Daniel; his penis softening inside a warm wet sea of semen.

Daniel was sobbing on the bed, still moaning, "Please, Jack… please…" but hopelessly now, knowing his tormentor was unmovable, unreachable. He barely whimpered as the man pulled out of him. O'Neill did it straight and carefully. Much too little and much too late to do any good, of course, he knew that even before he saw the blood smeared all over his cock. He quickly pulled the silk sheet across Daniel's shivering body, but the younger man was too deep in shock to notice.

O'Neill shoved his flaccid penis back inside his pants and zipped himself up. If someone had come along with a pair of shears to castrate him, he would have been grateful. He'd thought he of all people knew what self-loathing was; knew what it was to hate himself with a passion; but this was way worse.

The doors opened and Hasfar entered. One look at his face told O'Neill that he hadn't heard that whispered sentence; the alien had seen what he wanted to see: the play he'd arranged, scripted, and sat down in comfort to watch. He was sated, contented; they'd clearly exceeded his expectations. He smiled as he approached. " Most satisfactory."

"So we can go?" O'Neill demanded flatly.

Hasfar was gazing down on Daniel almost fondly. "He was all I hoped: I loved the way his innocence finally shattered like fine crystal. Did you hear the sound of it? How unbearable he found your betrayal of him."

"Look, we did what you told us to do: Carter slapped him, Teal'c whipped him, I fucked him. Game over. Can we go?"

That pause seemed to last an eternity, but then the alien glanced at him dismissively. "You may go."

They were sucked fruit to him, O'Neill realized, Hasfar had squeezed the last drop of juice he could from them and now they were empty and he was full. Please let there be a hell for creatures like this: One where he had to confront what he had done; one where guilt could finally reach him.

O'Neill turned to see Teal'c and Carter standing in the doorway. He knew they must have watched it all because of the look on their faces: not horror or disgust, more like they were void with shock, like people who hadn't slept for days, stumbling through a reality they couldn't believe in. Carter was looking at Hasfar with loathing but O'Neill felt too drained to even have energy left for hate. He wrapped the sheet around Daniel more carefully and then bent and picked him up. Daniel appeared to have fainted at last, ten minutes later than O'Neill would have liked, but he still whimpered brokenly in his arms, like a beaten child or a dog that had been hit by a car. The sound caused a visible shiver of pleasure to run through the alien. O'Neill turned on his heel, wanting to get the hell out of there before Hasfar changed his mind about letting them go and started thinking of new and interesting ways to torment them.

They strode out of the palace without speaking. Although they were exhausted, emotionally and physically drained and Teal'c still wounded, they did not need to confer to know that they were not going to stop until darkness intervened.

Even then, O'Neill thought he might have kept on walking if Carter hadn't touched his arm, and said gently, "Colonel?" It was a shock for him to look down and find that he wasn't carrying Daniel and he wheeled around in panic, afraid he'd dropped him somewhere. "It's all right, sir. Teal'c has him." She was speaking to him with such sympathy and he wondered how she could bear to be near him after what she'd seen him do. The fact it had needed to be done was nothing, he had been capable of it, what the hell did that make him? He stumbled and she caught his arm. "Colonel, you need to rest, you're exhausted."

"Yeah, well it's tiring work, fucking your best friend. Really takes it out of you." He fell to his knees and realized it was raining, a hot rain that stung as it fell on his skin. He wondered why Carter was putting her arms around him, why she was holding his head, guiding his face to her shoulder, rubbing his back in comforting circles the way he'd rubbed hers. As he noticed the warm salt rain spattering onto her, he heard her saying, "You did what you had to do, Colonel. You did what you had to do to get Daniel out alive." And he wondered dully as he heard her saying it how something that he knew to be both true and fair could carry so little comfort in it.

It was Carter who set up the perimeter, gathered the wood, built the fire, put the broth onto cook. She made him eat, saying fiercely, "It's another day's walk to the Stargate from here, Colonel, and Teal'c can't carry all of us. We need you to be strong."

Knowing she was right, he forced himself to swallow and was surprised to find that it helped. Some warmth and strength returned to him and his brain began to emerge tentatively from the protective cocoon in which it had wrapped itself. He met her worried eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. "How are you all doing?"

"We're OK, sir. Teal'c's symbiote is helping to heal his wound."

O'Neill remembered the point of the spear sticking through the Jaffa's shoulder; even though the bone hadn't been broken there must have been a lot of muscle and tendon damage. "Christ, Teal'c, you've got a hole in your shoulder I could get my fist into, you shouldn't have carried Daniel."

"It was something I needed to do, O'Neill."

He remembered then that he wasn't the only one with guilt to expiate. He almost wished he had a shoulder wound that carrying the linguist would rip back open; a pain endured to balance the pain inflicted. He had opened his mouth to reassure the Jaffa that Daniel had known why he'd done as he had, that he'd understood, but the words died on his lips as the linguist stirred in his cocoon of faintly bloodstained sheet and then opened his eyes.

His was the first face Daniel saw and as he watched the younger man's blue eyes focus, O'Neill waited dully for the flinch that must inevitably follow. Daniel's eyes widened and a hand struggled out of the sheet, reached across and clamped itself around O'Neill's wrist, a surprisingly strong grip. "Jack," Daniel said breathlessly, long hair falling into his eyes, "please God tell me you knew I was acting back there?"

O'Neill looked at him dazedly for a moment, but the fingers wrapped around his wrist were certainly real enough. He cleared his throat. "Uh, Daniel – isn't that my line?"

"He wanted to stop me believing in you, right? He wasn't going to let us go until he was satisfied I'd lost my – faith in the rest of you, yes?" Daniel shook the strands of light brown hair out of his eyes. "I saw it once you told me but I couldn't work it out until then. I was still thinking he wanted to…you know…me himself. Stupid of me. Stupid. I could have ended the whole charade with Sam if I'd just got my brain working earlier – saved you and Teal'c having to do what you did. I'm so sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry you had to put yourself through that to save me."

"Oh Jesus, Danny, don't." O'Neill crawled across to the younger man and hugged him tightly. He closed his eyes and rocked Daniel as though comforting him, although he was sure they both knew that he was the one who needed the comfort. "I swear to God it will kill me if you do this to yourself."

"I should have realised. I should have known."

O'Neill pushed the younger man away from him very gently, holding him by the shoulders. His brown eyes were full of tears and he had to blink them away to focus. "Daniel, please let me say this. I have to say this: I am so sorry that I hurt you. I am so sorry that I raped you. Please, forgive me."

Daniel gave him a wondering look. "You didn't rape me, Jack. You have to have – I don't know – hate and lust and God knows what to have a rape; all that happened in that bedroom was that you put yourself through hell to save my life. Maybe Hasfar tried to…rape all of us, but he failed. Thanks to the three of you, he never even got close."

O'Neill hugged him again, holding out his arms to Carter and Teal'c so that they could join in. They were there in an instant, all gathered around Daniel like he was a light source they could see by, a fire to warm themselves against. His unshakeable faith in them the reason it had been so terrible to do as they had done; the reason they could find the strength to do it. Under the watchful stars, the four of them hugged each other tightly.

Part Two

He'd been carrying Daniel as they came through the Stargate. The linguist was unconscious again and O'Neill could tell he had a temperature. That had been hard enough to cope with, knowing that Hasfar hadn't laid a finger on him, that this fever came from blood loss and infection caused by his team-mates. Tormented by his own guilt, Teal'c was convinced it was dirt getting into the welts on Daniel's back, but O'Neill knew he was the cause of this, those deep tears he'd made inside Daniel when he'd raped him. Carter was the one who called for a medic, took charge of the situation as O'Neill staggered down the ramp and then sank to his knees, still holding Daniel in his arms. Teal'c had crouched next to them both, one massive hand on O'Neill's shoulder, the other protectively on Daniel.

When Hammond came up and said, "What the hell happened, Colonel? We expected you back two days ago?" it was Carter who answered him:

"We were captured by an alien, sir. A creature called Hasfar. The Colonel managed to get us all out but Daniel was injured in the process. Teal'c's wounded as well. The Colonel and I are fine." She darted a look at O'Neill as she said it, questioning, compassionate.

O'Neill collected himself. "We think Daniel has a fever from where some of his…his wounds have become infected. I need to talk to Doctor Fraiser."

"I'm right here, Colonel." The diminutive doctor was there in a moment, efficiently feeling Daniel's pulse. "Yes, he's definitely running a high temperature. Let's get a stretcher in here." She looked up at O'Neill. "You'd better all come to the infirmary. I can get you checked out while you're filling me in on what happened here."

O'Neill saw both Fraiser and Hammond notice that while the rest of them were dressed, Daniel was wrapped only in a blood-stained sheet. Both of them heroically forbore to make any mention of it in front of the other soldiers but O'Neill knew there were questions they were going to ask him later that he really wasn't going to want to answer.

Fraiser had sent Carter and Teal'c away to the other end of the infirmary so the Jaffa could have his wound looked at, but she'd motioned O'Neill into the cubicle with her, emphatically pulling the curtain closed around the bed upon which Daniel was lying. "OK, Colonel, tell me the worst," she said briskly. "I gather from the fact he's naked, and from this – " She carefully lifted up the sheet and O'Neill winced at the mauve bruises on the back of Daniel's thighs and buttocks, the smears of blood, "that this Hasfar raped Daniel. Is that what happened?"

"Not exactly."

"Well then what exactly? Don't think you're protecting Daniel by lying about this, Colonel. I don't care if he asked you to keep this to yourselves, he isn't going to get through this with everyone pretending it hasn't happened."

"Hasfar didn't rape Daniel, Doctor. I did." As she stared at him, unable to assimilate what he'd just told her, O'Neill ran a hand through his short hair. "Look, that was the price to get him home." He lifted the sheet again so she could see Daniel's welted back. "Teal'c had to do this to him, and I had to rape him. It was the only way to get him out of there, so we did it."

"There must have been some other – "

"There wasn't. Christ, if there had been don't you think we would have done it? This wasn't a walk in the park for us either." O'Neill collected himself, trying to be business-like. "Look, he's got ten cuts across his back, they're about twenty-two hours old; we cleaned them up as best we could but we didn't have any medical equipment and he'd already lost quite a lot of blood. He was raped about eighteen hours ago; there's definitely some internal tearing, a lot of bruising; I didn't want to feel around in there in case I did him more damage but you can see he's been bleeding. No condom was used so you should give him a blood test and give me one too in case I'm carrying anything we don't know about that I might have passed onto him. Apart from some – saliva – there was no lubricant available and he was, Christ – " O'Neill made a huge effort to regain control. "Daniel wasn't – prepared for – intercourse before it took place so he was very – Look, there's no nice way to put this, Doctor. He could be badly damaged inside, that's what I'm saying."

"Couldn't you have at least…?" She broke off, turning away from him as though she didn't want to be near him. Her voice was cool and brisk: "Thank you for that report, Colonel. Why don't you go and give that blood sample to the orderly while I ascertain the extent of Doctor Jackson's injuries?"

For a moment he hesitated, wanting to explain to her what it had been like, how little choice he'd had, but then he just shrugged and turned away. He went to where Carter was watching Teal'c get his shoulder dressed. She gave him a look of sympathy. "Did you tell Janet?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she took it really well. And now I get to go tell General Hammond. Something else to add to my list of fun things to do on a Wednesday."

"Sir, do you want me to come with you. Explain how it was?"

O'Neill sighed. "Carter, now we’re back here I'm not sure if even I can explain how it was. I can't believe I did that to him!"

The orderly who was bandaging Teal'c's shoulder looked up in surprise and Carter laid a quietening hand on O'Neill's arm, leading him a little way away from the others. "Sir, I know Daniel was right about one thing: Hasfar did this to you every bit as much as he did it to Daniel. Actually, I'm not sure what he did to you wasn't worse. Maybe no one here will ever be able to understand the choices we were faced with back there; maybe they don't know that you did the only thing you could do and that it damned near killed you to do it, but we know that, Teal'c and I know that, and Daniel certainly does. But you have to know it too, Colonel. You have to remember why you did what you did and how hard it was for you."

"OK." He patted her shoulder. "I hear what you're saying, Carter, and I know you're trying to help, but I think I'm kind of beyond help at the moment. I just have to live with this for a while, let it shake down. When Daniel's fixed up I might be OK about it, I don’t know. At the moment all I know is that he has a temperature of a hundred and two that I gave him and that's all I can think about." He touched her arm again. "But thanks, thank you, you're the best goddamned Air Force officer I ever served with, Carter, I hope you know that."

He'd told Hammond about everything that had happened on the planet in measured tones, keeping his words brisk, his gaze firmly fixed on some distant point behind Hammond's head, his hands clasped behind his back. At the end of his recital, he'd hardly dared to meet the man's shocked gaze. Except Hammond wasn't shocked, or angry, and the only expression in his eyes was one of compassion. He said, "Sit down, Jack," very gently.

O'Neill did so awkwardly.

Hammond reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of whisky and two tumblers, pouring them both a drink. As the glass touched his fingers, O'Neill started and then looked down at the amber liquid. Hammond said quietly, "I don't know about you, but I could certainly do with a drink."

"Yes, sir." O'Neill downed his in one gulp and then looked across at the man. "I had to do it, sir. It was that or leave Daniel alone with that son-of-a-bitch."

"That's very clear, Colonel. You did what you had to do; the only thing you could do: You got your people out."

"Yes, sir." O'Neill put his head in his hands and started to cry.

It was a shock when he emerged from his sobbing a few minutes later to find Hammond patting his shoulder sympathetically, saying, "I know, son, I know."

"I hurt him so badly."

"Nothing else you could have done."

"He apologized to me. He said he was sorry – to me. Said it was his fault for not working it out sooner. I can't live with this. I can’t live with having done that to Daniel."

"Yes you can, Colonel." Hammond squeezed his shoulder tighter. "You have to."

When Daniel awoke he didn't know where he was at first, and then the familiar bleeping told him that he was in the infirmary. There were drips in his veins, but no ventilator. The wooziness suggested a general anaesthetic, so surgery then, not just the usual band aid and painkiller. He was lying on his front, which was unusual, but as he made to turn over the stinging pain across his shoulders reminded him of the reason for his position. He seemed to be wearing only bandages around his torso, the hospital blankets alone protecting his modesty from prying eyes. As the events on the planet and then the probable reason for his surgery came back to him, he flinched. "Damn, must have been as bad as he thought. Poor Jack." He turned his head cautiously. "Jack?"

It took him a moment to realize the man wasn't there. Except that was impossible. Whenever he came round from surgery, Jack was always there. The morning star had nothing on O'Neill for constancy. He frowned, trying to kneel up while keeping the blankets wrapped around himself. "Jack?"

Doctor Fraiser was there at once. "I thought you needed to be by yourself for a while, Doctor Jackson so I've banned all visitors for the time being."

"But where's Jack? Is he OK? Can I see him?"

She frowned. "Daniel, how much do you remember about what happened to you on the last mission?"

"Oh – " he tentatively allowed his memory to stray that way and flinched again, yanking it back quickly like it was an unruly dog on a lead. "Oh – pretty much everything, thank you. That's why I really need to see Jack – and Teal'c too, and I think Sam would probably appreciate…"

"I really need you to tell me what happened on the last mission."

He lowered his eyes. "Well, the others actually know more than I do. I was out of it for quite a lot of the time and I didn't really have much conversation with Hasfar – "

"Doctor Jackson, did Colonel O'Neill rape you?"

"Did he…? No!" Daniel eased himself around, determinedly not flinching when the shooting pain lanced inside him as he defiantly sat down before angrily pulling the drip out of his arm for punctuation. He wasn't quite sure why he'd done the latter except as a means of showing that he didn't want her damned doctoring if that was the way she was going to act. "No, Jack didn't – rape me."

"Well then who did?"

"Look, it wasn't like that."

"Doctor Jackson, unless you have some extremely masochistic tendencies I don't know about, then someone has recently had anal sex with you in a way that suggests that it was done very much without your consent. Colonel O'Neill says that it was him. On examining Colonel O'Neill, I found that he had certainly had sex with someone in the recent past and on testing the samples of semen that were inside you, I found that they did indeed come from Colonel O'Neill – "

"OK. OK. But it wasn't rape. It was something Jack had to do to save my life and so he did it. Look, if it wasn't for him I’d still be a prisoner of that – person and right about now I'd be trying to find a way to kill myself. Jack went so far out on a limb for me I don't know if he's ever going to be able to find his way back. Now, if I know him, then he needs to know that I'm OK, and I sure as hell need to know that he's OK. And don't you dare use – that word in front of him, or I'm going to discharge myself from your care, right now."

Doctor Fraiser looked at how Daniel's eyes were blazing with anger and her certainty did momentarily falter. "Doctor Jackson, you and I can sit here and argue about semantics, but we both know that what was done to you was still – "

Through gritted teeth, Daniel said, "You've asked the question and I've answered it. Jack didn't rape me. That isn't what happened. Now, please, go and tell him I'm awake and that I want to see him. Please?"

Not many people could resist Daniel's blue gaze when he set out to be persuasive and Janet Fraiser was no exception. She could actually feel her resistance melting. "I think the rest of SG1 are right outside," she admitted.

"Well, would you go get them?"

She had expected Daniel to wake up shocked and frightened, in need of reassurance after the ordeal he had obviously been through, so his unblinking gaze and iron will took her by surprise and she found herself giving in. "OK, but just for a little while…"

"Jack! Teal'c! Sam! Doc says you can come in now!" Daniel shouted. The door was opened before he'd got to the end of the sentence and he made sure it was O'Neill he looked at, their gaze meeting. Daniel smiled at him, saying softly, "Hey, Jack." He didn't look at Doctor Fraiser but said quietly, "Doc, do you mind?"

Fraiser moved off unwillingly but couldn't help looking across at the man who had all of her patient's attention as she retreated, wondering if she'd been wrong about O'Neill these past couple of years.

"Hey, Daniel." O'Neill came over to the bed and sat down next to it. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. What about you?"

"Well if we're going with 'fine' here…?"

"OK." Daniel half-smiled. "I'm so doped up with painkillers I have no idea how I'm doing but I'm presuming that as the Doctor hasn't told me otherwise that I'm basically OK. Now what about you?"

"Too early to say."

"That sounds ominous."

"Let's just say the better you do the better I do."

"Jack, I'm doing better already." He turned to Teal'c and Carter then, smiling at them widely. "Hey, guys. Yow – nasty-looking bandage there, Teal'c. Junior on a go-slow or something?"

"Daniel Jackson, is your back…? Does it…?"

"Feeling no pain, Teal'c, I promise. And looking forward to showing off my scar tissue at parties. Damn it, given all the interesting ways I've been injured, it's about time I had something impressive to show for it. I'm planning to tell people I was clawed by one of those giant sloths that are supposed to still be living in South America. The guy who's looking for them could do with the corroboration and I have a soft spot for scientists with crazy theories no one else will believe." His tone was light but he reached out and squeezed the Jaffa's hand gently. "Thanks for helping to get me home, Teal'c – really not a planet I wanted to stay on."

Carter held out a bunch of flowers. "I promise not to be put them close enough to bring out your allergies but I thought you might like some colour in here."

"Well, you know, under the circumstances, I think they should really have come from Jack, but thanks anyway, they're very pretty, although, Sam, if you love me, please take them the hell away from me before they make me sneeze." He turned to O'Neill then and said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"No chocolates? Talk about a cheap date."

O'Neill said, "Daniel, I really can't joke about this."

"You should, you know. Quite apart from anything else, it would piss Hasfar off big time. Oh please, Jack, just one little smile."

O'Neill touched the younger man's bare shoulder gently. "Sorry, Danny. Guess I'm not quite there yet."

Daniel bit his lip and turned to the others, forcing a smile. "Uh guys – can Jack and I have a moment alone, do you think?"

Carter turned around from arranging the flowers and said, "Get better quickly, Daniel." Her gaze flickered to O'Neill and he nodded, making vague saluting motions with his right hand, "Will do, Sam."

As the door closed behind them, O'Neill said, "You know that's a terrible salute you have there, Daniel. Really lame."

"Are we going to be OK? You and me? I mean, I don't see there should be a problem; we both know why you did what you did and personally speaking I'm eternally grateful to you."

"Go around saying that on the base and you're going to be getting some very peculiar offers. Remember there are marines here."

"I'm relying on you to tell everyone my blow job really sucks." As O'Neill grimaced, Daniel bit his lip. "Jack, please tell me that's the bad pun making you look like that?"

O'Neill looked up. "Sorry, Daniel. I know it's a little over-sensitive of me, but I'm just having a few problems coming to terms with first having rammed my cock down your throat and then having fucked you until you bled."

"You rescued me. The method doesn’t matter. You got me away from Hasfar that's all that counts."

"Boy, but I'd like to believe that."

" I believe it. Do you think I'd be sitting here talking to you like this if I didn't? Jack, it was only you and me in that room together and I'm OK with what happened. Why aren't you?"

"When you've had to hurt me as much as I hurt you in that bedroom, you tell me how OK you are with it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, for Christ's sake, Daniel, it makes me want to kill myself!"

Daniel looked downcast. "I wish I could help. I wish I could make this OK for you. You saved my life, Jack. Again. And in fact you saved more than that because we both know that what Hasfar would have done to me would have been way worse than death. And I know that you had to put yourself through a truly horrible experience to do it and I can't help feeling guilty about that."

O'Neill frowned. "Just for clarification: you do know that the horrible experience was having to hurt you, don't you?"

"Of course," the younger man said a bit too quickly.

"Seriously, if all I'd had to do was have sex with you, I wouldn't have had a…major problem with it. I mean, you're not that hideous and we Special Forces boys are trained to take that kind of thing in our stride, you know."

"Sure you wouldn't, Jack." Daniel grinned suddenly. "Sorry, just trying to imagine Colonel Jack O'Neill not having a problem with having sex with a guy here. The mind's not quite up to it for some reason. Kind of you to worry about hurting my feelings though."

"Look, I'm not saying it would be my first choice of recreation, but I could have done it a damned sight better than that if Hasfar had let me."

"OK, well come the day everyone else on the planet is dead and the earth's hurtling into the sun why don't you and I give it another go and you can prove how OK with it you are?" Daniel grinned as he saw the flicker of a smile cross the older man's features. "See? We can joke about it."

The smile faded from O'Neill's face. "Do you know how many stitches there are inside you?"

"No, but looking at your face, I would guess it's something I can get by without knowing."

"A lot, Daniel, a whole…hell of a lot."

"Well, that's another part of my anatomy Janet now knows more about than I do. Jack, you didn't make the rules, Hasfar did. You did what you had to do and I don't know anyone else in the whole damned universe who cares enough about me to have done it. Do you know what I was thinking when we were…doing it? I was thinking 'Please God, give Jack the strength to see this through'. I wanted out of there, Jack. I wanted to get home and you got me home. You always get me home. Do you know how many times I'd have to save your life for us ever to be even? No? Well, I don't know either, because it's so damned many I lost count years ago. Jack, you are the best friend I have ever had, you are the person I respect most in the whole world; do you know how much it means to me that someone like you cared enough about a geek like me to put himself through an experience like that…?"

Daniel found he was crying and angrily wiped the tears away, still automatically not wanting to do anything weak in front of O'Neill in case the man despised him, even though they'd gone past that point so long ago. "You want to talk about guilt? I am lacerated with guilt at what you went through. I am so fucking sorry for being the cause of that look in your eyes that I want to slash my own wrists – but I'm not going to do it, because I am not going to let that bastard Hasfar win. We fooled him in there, you and me, we worked together, and we fooled him, why don't we concentrate on that part of the proceedings?"

O'Neill looked at him for a moment and then patted him on the shoulder. "You're right, Daniel. We're going to be OK with this. I may have to go back there and kill Hasfar at some point to really work it through, but one way or another, we're going to get over it. Just let me say sorry from time to time."

"I will if you'll let me say I'm sorry for all the times I've got myself shot, or injured, or captured, and scared you half to death. I can't help thinking it isn't a coincidence that your hair was brown when I first met you and now it's grey."

O'Neill did smile then. "Definitely not a coincidence." He reached out and wiped a remaining tear from Daniel's face. "But, hey, Danny boy, it's going to be OK. We're going to be OK."

Daniel grinned, despite the tears in his eyes. "I hate you calling me that."

"I know you do." O'Neill got up. "You should be resting."

"Get me out of here quickly, will you? You know I can't bear hospital food. And, Jack?"

"What?"

"Next time bring chocolates. I'm not holding out for a ring, but I think I deserve chocolates."

"You'll be lucky."

"Damn, and I bet you'll never phone me either."

Smiling despite himself, O'Neill turned away, but as he headed for the door he still had to pass Janet Fraiser. She'd always seemed to like him. He'd thought of her as a friend as well as a physician, but the look in her brown eyes certainly wasn't friendly now. Her face was as stiff as her voice was cold, "Good morning, Colonel." Even though he'd thought he was prepared for this, it was hard to ignore: the look of a woman who'd spent three hours in surgery repairing the damage he'd done to Daniel. Her disgust. Her dislike. She was looking at him now and seeing a rapist. He could practically feel her joining the dots in the head, hear the thoughts: so that was why his wife left him. All women thought it about servicemen at heart, didn't they? That half the reason they joined up was to fuck their fellow soldiers? And Daniel was such a nice-looking boy; so sweet; so innocent, that even now he hadn't realized what had really been done to him; he'd probably just taken O'Neill's explanation at face value that this was the only way he could get him out of there; it would never have occurred to the linguist in a month of Sundays that maybe his commanding officer had been just looking for the chance to…O'Neill wondered if that was what she thought. If that was what everyone really thought.

O'Neill nodded to her, saying in the same measured tone, "Good morning, Doctor."

He could feel how she was itching to come after him and demand an explanation, to give him a chance to give his side of things, but he couldn't do it. No excuses. No explanations. He'd done it, after all and she alone of any of them knew just how much he'd done. He couldn't help wondering himself if there was some way he could have faked it; found some lubricant from somewhere; slipped a finger in first surreptitiously. He did know for absolute certain that it wasn't something he'd wanted to do, on any level; but he did wonder if someone cleverer could have found a better way to do it that might have hurt Daniel less. Then he remembered that the whole point had been to hurt Daniel; and that getting Daniel away from Hasfar had been too important to jeopardize with misplaced compassion. He'd done what an officer had to do: picked the lesser of the two evils, done what Hasfar had ordered him to do and gambled that if he did it well enough the alien would believe he'd got what he wanted and let them all go. And it had worked. Not a minor point. It had worked. Daniel was safe and if not yet well then at least well on the road to recovery, thanks to him. O'Neill walked out of the infirmary with his head held high. Maybe he couldn't quite live with it yet, but he was going to. He was going to be able to live with this.

Probably, in the back of his mind, O'Neill had known that no one who hadn't been there would really understand what it had been like, but it was still a shock to find people looking at him sideways in corridors, people murmuring things to one another about him on the periphery of his vision. Apparently, despite Hammond's best efforts to keep it quiet, and Teal'c and Carter's stolid silence, it was all over SGC that Colonel O'Neill had raped Doctor Jackson on the last mission out. O'Neill guessed he was actually the one who'd let it slip when he'd berated himself in front of that orderly. The orderly he'd later had to ask to take a sample of his blood and pass on to Doctor Fraiser. The same Doctor Fraiser who, of course, at the time had been checking out Daniel's many injuries. The general assumption seemed to be that O'Neill had been temporarily infested by a Goa'uld or been subject to some kind of brainwashing.

The only point in his favour, apart from Hammond, Teal'c, and Carter all going out of their way to show that their attitude to him was unchanged, had been Daniel's visible affection for him. O'Neill had spent hours in the infirmary, playing cards and chess with his bed-bound team-mate and his arrival was always greeted with the widest smile of relief from the linguist.

Carter and Teal'c had also visited their wounded comrade, Carter taking the opportunity to try out the Goa'uld healing device on Daniel's scored back; each session gradually repairing the damaged tissues so effectively that it seemed likely he would be denied his chance to have impressive scarring yet again. The treatment was efficient but not painless, yet Daniel submitted to it without a murmur, holding Teal'c's hand as the golden light burnt away all reminder of his wounds. Carter knew that he would have endured a lot worse to not have those scars left as a visible reproach to the Jaffa. On the last session, he'd twisted around to look at his now smooth back and said, "Damn, there goes my best after dinner story." Looking up, Carter had seen the relief on Teal'c's face and thought that even if it had been a far more terrible experience to be temporary host to Jolinar, it would have been worth it to acquire this knowledge, the means to smooth away the damage the Jaffa had so unwillingly done his young team-mate.

Despite the rumours and whispers pursuing him like the Furies down every echoing corridor of SGC, O'Neill had been determined not to bite back, even when Doctor Fraiser had asked if she could sit in on the meeting to discuss SG1s forthcoming missions because as Daniel's doctor there were medical issues that she felt should be mentioned, he hadn't raised an objection, despite the way Hammond's expression was clearly inviting him to do so if he wanted.

Hammond had just finished outlining the preliminary reports on P3X567 – a planet that showed signs of such an interesting civilization that he said he had decided to keep it back for SG1 until Doctor Jackson was well enough to resume his duties. Hammond turned to Doctor Fraiser. "Perhaps, Doctor, you could give us some idea when that might be?"

She was still frowning over his last statement. "General, am I to understand that you intend SG1 to continue their missions as before?"

"As soon as Doctor Jackson is fully recovered, yes."

"Do you really think that's wise?"

"When I last spoke to Doctor Jackson he was very eager to return to active duty. Are you saying that his attitude has changed?"

"No, General, Doctor Jackson is certainly very eager to return to active duty. I am the one that doesn't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not? Are you suggesting that his injuries have left him permanently disabled in some way?"

"Perhaps not physically, but who knows what that kind of – what the events from the last mission may have done to him psychologically."

"Doctor Mackenzie insists that Doctor Jackson has made what he terms a 'remarkable recovery.' I have also spoken extensively on this matter to Doctor Jackson and he is very adamant that there was never anything for him to recover from." That was the first time Hammond's gaze had gone in O'Neill's direction and the General's eyes were both steady and kind. "Doctor Jackson does not consider himself the victim in the crime that was committed against SG1 by this Hasfar alien. He feels very strongly that his team-mates were the ones who were actually abused. Having read all the mission reports, I am inclined to agree with him."

Doctor Fraiser's face was taut with anger and O'Neill couldn't even blame her. She'd probably had too much experience of the military sweeping things under the carpet; protecting their own; ignoring anything unpalatable for as long as they could. She said shortly, "Perhaps, General, you should re-read my report on Doctor Jackson's injuries. Perhaps I need to remind you of the three hours of surgery it took to repair the extensive internal damage he suffered as a result of the assault committed against him by Colonel O'Neill."

As both Teal'c and Carter started and opened their mouths to protest, O'Neill closed his hands on their arms, holding them in their seats.

General Hammond said quietly, "What are you saying, Doctor?"

"I'm saying I wish to protest in the strongest possible terms at Doctor Jackson ever again being placed in a position where he is under the command or indeed the protection of Colonel O'Neill."

Teal'c said quietly, "Doctor Fraiser, did you not also have to spend some time attending to the injuries that I did to Daniel Jackson?"

"That was different, Teal'c," she said impatiently.

"Why? Because you do not suspect me of having derived any pleasure from the act of beating him, is that not so? And yet there are people on many worlds who do derive pleasure from such an act. Hasfar himself was clearly one who did so."

Carter put in, "Janet, if you think that the Colonel enjoyed what he did to Daniel you couldn't be more wrong."

The Doctor looked across at O'Neill and said bitterly, "For someone acting under duress, Colonel, you certainly did what you had to do very – thoroughly."

"Doctor Fraiser, you are way out of line here," said Hammond angrily.

"No, that's OK, this needs to be out in the open." O'Neill met her gaze unflinchingly. "Doctor, you've known me a while now. Long enough to give it to me straight. Are you telling me that you truly believe I raped Daniel because I wanted to? Do you think I got off on it?"

"Well, your semen was inside him, Colonel. You did ejaculate I take it?"

"Yes, I did, but only because that was the only way to pass Go and Get Out of Jail Free. But as orgasms go, it can't say it was one of my best efforts."

Although O'Neill's tone was level his face had paled a little and it was all Carter could do not to reach out and take his hand comfortingly. She noticed that Teal'c had automatically put a hand on the man's arm. It made her furious that people couldn't or wouldn't understand what it had been like back there; no one who had watched that scene in the bedroom could have been under any illusions that what he had been forced to do to Daniel was anything other than torture for O'Neill.

The Colonel continued steadily, "So, Doctor, do you think that if we're out there alone under some starry alien sky I'm not going to be able to stop myself from jumping Daniel all over again, is that it?"

There was a long pause before Doctor Fraiser lowered her gaze and sighed. "No, Colonel O'Neill, that isn't what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying, Doctor?" Hammond demanded.

"Sir, I appreciate that Colonel O'Neill was in a difficult position; I appreciate that he did what he thought was best to try and save Doctor Jackson's life, but I also think that certain other considerations influenced his judgment to the point that he made bad decisions and unnecessarily risked Doctor Jackson's health."

"So you are saying I wanted to jump him?"

"No, Colonel, I'm saying the opposite. I'm saying that when the chips were down, it was more important to you to – prove your heterosexuality, than it was to protect Doctor Jackson."

Taken aback both by her words and her vehemence, O'Neill frowned, "Uh, Doc, do you want to run that by me again?"

"There are ways and means, Colonel. I find it hard to believe that anyone could be quite as ignorant about the damage they were doing as you pretended to be. The fact that you preferred to cause Daniel so much pain and injury simply to…preserve your right to be considered heterosexual…"

"Jesus Christ! Is that what you think?" O'Neill was on his feet before he could stop himself, that injustice stinging him like a hornet. "You think that I fucked Daniel without any foreplay, or lubricant, or basic compassion, because I wanted everyone to know how damned straight I was!" He stared at her in disbelief and then collected himself. "Doctor, I think we have a fundamental problem of comprehension here. I was not told that I had to have sex with Daniel to get him out of there alive, OK? That was not the brief."

Frowning, Doctor Fraiser said, "Well, what was it then?"

"I was told I had to rape him. The exact words were: with all my might and as brutally as possible. That was the only way to get him home. That was what I had to do. That, as anyone who has spent all those hours stitching him back together will surely be able to testify, was what I did."

As she stared at him, O'Neill ran a hand through his short greying hair. "I swear to you that if Hasfar had told me all I had to do was have sex with Daniel I would have danced a goddamned jig in relief and, what's more, mission accomplished I would have delivered him back to you without a scratch, because, yes, Doc, even in the hideous ignorance of my boring old heterosexuality, I am aware that you don't just jam it in there anyhow and start thrusting. I did not fuck him like that because I wanted the world to know that I don't usually do it with boys, I fucked him like that because that was the only way to get him away from a sadistic pervert." As the memory of that scene came back to him, a shadow washed over O'Neill's face and he sat down abruptly, closing his eyes.

Carter said vehemently, " Now do you understand? The Colonel wasn't given the option of being nice, Janet. All that being kind and considerate to Daniel would have accomplished at that point was condemning him to a living death. That alien didn't give any of us the chance to do something easy. Do you think I found it easy to sit and eat and drink in front of him when he was starving and dehydrated? Do you think Teal'c found it easy to bring that whip down across his back?"

"No," said the other women quietly, "no, of course, I don't."

"But you do think the Colonel found it easy to tear his best friend apart from the inside while he sobbed in agony? Because that's what happened. It had nothing to do with sex and Daniel knows that better than any of us. He and the Colonel didn't have sex in that bedroom: Hasfar tortured the Colonel by making him torture Daniel. He wasn't going to let any of us go until he was satisfied that Daniel was broken into pieces, his trust in us shattered forever. Between them, Daniel and the Colonel managed to convince Hasfar that was what had happened, but only because the Colonel put himself through what must have been the worst experience of his life to save Daniel from Hasfar. And that's the man you're saying isn't fit to be Daniel's commanding officer? That's the man you're saying would put his own needs before the rest of us? I never doubted for an instant that the Colonel would walk through fire for us, Janet, but I hoped I'd never actually have to watch him do it. In Hasfar's palace we all watched him do it and because of him, Daniel didn't even get burned. Yes, his body got a little bit damaged but that was all. The part of Daniel Hasfar was trying to destroy, he never even touched, but the Colonel…"

"It's OK, Carter." O'Neill put a hand on the angry woman's shoulder and squeezed it. He looked across at the shaken Doctor Fraiser. "Look, Doc, I'm glad you stuck up for Daniel. Christ, in your position, I wouldn't want me left in charge of him either, but I give you my word I will do everything in my power to keep him safe. But I know that I need to get back out there before my nerve fails me and I bet he feels the same way, so, would you please at least think about discharging him?"

Doctor Fraiser said quietly, "Colonel O'Neill, I owe you an apology. I should have listened to Doctor Jackson when he tried to tell me that you hadn't…I'm sorry. I just looked at the medical evidence and I thought he was misleading himself."

"Well, the medical evidence was pretty damned compelling after all."

"But I am sorry."

O'Neill sighed. "Doc, that Hasfar did his damnedest to try and destroy what was – and thankfully is – a pretty good friendship. He didn't succeed with Daniel and me, let's not give him the satisfaction of succeeding with you and me either." He held out a hand. "Shake?"

She leant across the table and clasped his hand. "Thank you, Colonel." She straightened back up and then looked at the General. "Permission to be excused, sir? I think I ought to get back to my patient. There's someone in the infirmary who's very anxious to be discharged."

"Permission granted, Doctor."

Doctor Fraiser paused in the doorway. "Colonel, Doctor Jackson is fit to be released from the infirmary, but not to be home alone and unsupervised, can I release him into your – protective custody?"

"Oh yeah. Nothing I like better than babysitting a bored Egyptologist." He looked to Hammond. "Sure you don't need me for anything else, sir?"

The General smiled. "No, Colonel. I'm afraid you're free to look after Doctor Jackson while he convalesces."

"Damn. Thank you, sir." O'Neill nodded to Doctor Fraiser. "Tell Danny boy I'll pick him up at six-thirty. Make sure he understands it's not a date."

In the event, O'Neill was waiting outside the infirmary in his best dress uniform, with both flowers and chocolates. Daniel took one look at him and started giggling. "Oh, Jack, you shouldn't have."

O'Neill shrugged. "Didn't want you to think I was just a wham-bam-thank-you-Ma'am kind of guy, Daniel." He proffered a wheelchair. "You sit. I'll push."

"I can walk."

"Did I just give an order, you know I kind of think I did?"

Daniel sighed and sat down gingerly in the wheelchair. O'Neill dumped the flowers and chocolates in his lap. "No sneezing," he warned. "Doc says you'll pull your stitches out."

"Given where most of my stitches are, Jack, it would probably take more than that to dislodge them."

"Are we going to be hearing a lot of jokes like that, because if we are I need to stop off on the way home and buy some earplugs?"

"Can we get take out, beer, and a video on the way home as well? I really want to do – you know…normal stuff. A night off from psychotic aliens and saving the galaxy, that kind of thing?"

"Normal stuff." O'Neill nodded. "Sounds good to me, Daniel."

As Daniel tilted back his head to reply, the pollen from the flowers caught at his nose and he sneezed violently. "Whoa! Youch! Well that hurt in places I didn't know I had."

"Here, give me those." O'Neill took the flowers and tossed them onto the desk of the first office they passed with an open door.

"You do know that's Makepeace's office, don't you?"

"Perfect. If ever a guy needed to think he had a secret admirer, it's him. Might do wonders for his personality problems."

"Chocolate?" Daniel lifted the box.

"You're going to eat those now?"

"I'm hungry, Jack. All you get in the infirmary is oxtail soup and chicken and rice that's been through a food processor so many times it tastes like baby food."

"Well stop eating the chocolates and I'll get you a pizza on the way home. Janet didn't give you a special diet or anything, did she?"

Daniel looked simultaneously both guilty and innocent. "She might have done."

"Well?"

"I might have accidentally lost it."

"OK. Compromise. You can eat anything you like just for tonight and then tomorrow you go back on the convalescent glop, OK?"

"OK."

As he wheeled Daniel around the corner, they came across SG6 who looked at them with undisguised curiosity. Daniel nodded at them. "OK, guys?" They muttered something in reply and O'Neill felt their fascinated gaze still upon them as he determinedly wheeled Daniel on down the corridor. When he looked down, Daniel's face was thoughtful. The younger man said, "You been getting a lot of that?"

O'Neill shrugged. "I just tell them the SG Team that plays together, stays together."

"Jack -?"

"OK. Yeah. This place is tin can in which every new rumour buzzes like a bluebottle, but we already knew that."

"So, do they know the truth or don't they?"

"They have their own versions."

"Such as?"

O'Neill sighed. "Well, I think originally I was supposed to have been given some kind of drug or hypnosis that turned me into a slavering beast, but since you've been so pally with your old rapist of a C.O. they're leaning more towards the you being a willing participant theory. Guess they just think you and I are seriously into the old S & M."

"Oh peachy." Daniel looked up at the older man apologetically. "Sorry, Jack. Your life just keeps getting better and better since you met me, doesn't it?"

"I really don't care, Daniel. Sticks and stones, you know?"

"I am sorry."

"Daniel," O'Neill wheeled him briskly around the corner, "while you're getting better at my place we are really going to have to lay down some ground rules about when you are and when you're not allowed to apologize. Now that, for instance, was when one of those times when you definitely aren't allowed to say you're sorry."

"Sorry, Jack."

"Daniel…?"

"Sorry. I mean. I'm not sorry, except for saying sorry. Damn, this is harder than it seems."

O'Neill reached out and ruffled the other's hair fondly. Daniel hated him doing that but sometimes he couldn't resist doing it anyway. Today the archaeologist didn't even protest, just twisted his head around to look at him, and grinned.

O'Neill was smiling back before he could stop himself. Damn, he thought, but it was good to see Daniel looking so well. Like nothing had happened to him. He'd thought there would be some kind of shadow behind those blue eyes, that scene in the bedroom imprinted there forever, but there was nothing; the same trust, same candour, incredibly, even the same…innocence. Looking in Daniel's eyes, you would never believe that he'd recently been raped.

That was when O'Neill finally realized what Carter, Teal'c, and, most importantly, Daniel, had all been telling him these past few days since they'd escaped from Hasfar: that Daniel hadn't been raped. Like the man had told him when he'd woken up still dazed and bloody and wrapped in that semen-stained silk sheet, you had to have all kinds of things to have a rape that simply hadn't been present in that room. He hadn't raped Daniel. He'd saved Daniel the only way he could. He hadn't raped him.

Daniel's blue eyes widened and he said softly, "At last, Jack."

O'Neill stared back at him. "Daniel, why did you smile after I ruffled your hair? You hate me messing with your hair."

"Because you could still do it. That's when I knew it really was OK. That we really did win and Hasfar lost. That nothing had changed. It hasn't, has it?"

O'Neill found himself staring into Daniel's eyes as though mesmerized; exactly the same expression, not a tinge of anything but trust and liking. No one in the world, damnit in any world, had ever believed in him as absolutely as Daniel. So long ago it felt like another lifetime, a scientist called Daniel Jackson had decided that he could trust a soldier called Jack O'Neill. Completely. He wasn't even sure on what basis Daniel had made his decision; something he himself had actually said or done or just some gut instinct of Daniel's, but the man had made his decision and, it seemed, he'd stuck with it. Unshakeable, undentable, unmovable trust. O'Neill reached out and ruffled Daniel's hair again. "No, Daniel," he could hardly believe it and yet he knew it was true, "nothing's changed."

"Took you long enough," Daniel murmured happily, "but at least you got there in the end. Still hate you doing that by the way, Jack."

"I know you do, Danny." O'Neill began to push him along the corridor, picking up speed as he strode out faster, wheels singing as they spun, a grin threatening to split his face in two. "I know you do."