email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca
website: http://www.travellingone.com/
Summary: SG-1 may have made a fatal mistake, as Daniel is left behind.
Season: 3

July, 2010

With no warning the chains snapped open and his wrists dropped free.

Daniel opened his eyes slowly, not comprehending. He felt the rough stone wall against his back, through his coarse robe; saw the walls reinforced with their sparking force field, everything just the way he'd known it for the past weeks. He had lost all concept of time, for time had gone on far too long. Once the food and water had stopped coming - when, days ago? - he'd forgotten time itself. He'd known only that if rescue didn't arrive soon, he wouldn't need it at all.

But now, there was oddly no sensation of hunger or thirst. No sore muscles and not even his wrists hurt, and Daniel wondered if he was in a state of shock too severe for his senses to handle. And so, out of relief and curiosity, he stood up and moved away from the wall for the first time in…

No idea.

The opposite walls were sparking, as they'd always done before. Why, he wondered, if he had been shackled and unable to reach them anyway? Why such security? Reaching out to touch the nearest stone panel, it stung him and he jumped back. Yet, that seemed to be a natural instinct more than anything, for the zap hadn't actually hurt. And why didn't he feel terrible, after his ordeal? The last thing he remembered, in his most recent memories, he was practically dead.

Daniel turned around, the faint greenish tinge from a diluted light's beam in the ceiling illuminating mostly shadows.

His heart thudded to a powerful, proverbial standstill, shock searing his vision. All he could do was gape, completely not comprehending, now.

Latched to a stone wall with chains, seated on the rutted gray floor, was an almost-skeleton. And it was wearing fatigues.

Soul freeze forced into meltdown, thoughts simultaneously dimmed and rampaged. Daniel was almost certain there'd been no one in the cell with him - at least, not while he'd been conscious. Why would anyone have put a long-dead corpse in here with him, chained to the floor and wall, anyway? He was positive no one from the SGC had been in here with him; SG-1 had been the first team to unwittingly walk into this upheaval a few weeks ago. And he was almost certain the rest of his team had escaped from the guards when the rioting had begun. Oh, he hoped. So, logically, that corpse couldn't be Jack, or Sam. Or Teal'c. Yet in spite of logic, his heart was thumping way too harshly.

SC-1 wouldn't have come back for him before it was safe, would they? Daniel's heart seemed to pause before resuming its hysterical thudding, as he moved closer to the body. There were still strands of wiry hair on it, and some tight thin flesh. It still had its eyes, small and dried. God, how long had this been in here with him? It didn't look like Jack.

No, the eyes showed vestiges of blue. He could see no visible dogtags.

Breathing to calm his nerves and muttering a silent prayer he bent closer, then hesitantly reached out to check for tags under the loose, dragging shirt and jacket, a vain attempt to find out this unfortunate person's identity… as his hand went right through the body.

Daniel jumped back, stricken.

Unable to move, barely able to think, definitely unable to reason, he stood there and stared.

And then, finally, he allowed himself to admit those bones were his own.

How the hell long had he really been in here? And who… or what… the hell was he now?

_____

The cell door banged open, and Daniel swung around. How long had he been standing there, staring, frozen, unable to think? He couldn't remember. It might have been minutes… but more likely, he realized with a sudden drooping of spirit, it had been hours… or days. Time just didn't seem to be, any more.

Four people burst into the room, completely ignoring the force field, and pulled to a dead stop. They, too, froze, staring.

“Jack!” For a moment, Daniel's excitement and relief overcame all other thoughts and emotions, and the name burst reflexively from his lips. But as Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and someone he'd never seen before all ignored him, the joy came crashing down and he remembered.

He was dead.

“Oh God. What he must have gone through.” The horror on Sam's face was unrelenting.

“Bloody goddamn fucking bastards.” Jack's voice was almost quiet, his face taut, wooden. He stood there, unwilling to move.

Sam, however, did move, abruptly and swiftly exiting the cell, disappearing down the outer corridor.

Some moments passed before Jack said, “Go to her, Dilford. Teal'c and I can take care of this.”

“Yeah.” The other man seemed relieved to be given direction, and in a flash he was gone.

Daniel watched Jack raise his hands to his face and slouch over. Taking a few moments before regaining composure, the team leader moved to the skeleton. “Get those damn chains off.” He threw Teal'c a set of … something. Metallic prongs? The big man caught them, and twisted them around the restraints dangling from the wall near the floor. The bony fingers slid out even before the locks were open.

Daniel frowned. He was certain he'd felt his chains open already. Or had that been the feel of death? But the decomposition of the body indicated that death had been long ago.

“Won't be heavy to carry,” Jack mumbled, mostly to himself, as he fumbled with the collapsible stretcher they'd hoped they wouldn't need. Turning his back in the ruse of spreading it out, he took some deep breaths. Teal'c still had not said a word.

The shock surging through Daniel ignited his voice. “I'm here, Jack. I'm…” I'm… what? Okay? He wasn't. He was dead, and horrified, and sickened by the whole procedure taking place in front of him.

“I guess hoping to find him alive after five months was wishful thinking,” Jack muttered, still not caring if Teal'c was listening. He just needed to think out loud, needed to somehow find a way to pacify his fury and despair.

Five months? Daniel's head shot up in horror. Almost half a year? Why didn't he remember dying? He must have been dead all that time; why had he thought he'd been alive? Where had the time gone? Had he willed his spirit to sleep?

“O'Neill. We could not have saved him.”

“Not in time, no. Apparently.” Jack could see that now, although the past five months had been a miserable state of hell, waiting every day for the smoke to clear and the coup to settle and news of Daniel. They knew he'd been taken. They'd seen him carted off with the others, an innocent bystander. They'd only been on the planet for two days.

Two bloody chaotic miserable nerve-wrenching days of hell.

And then, they hadn't been back for five months and nine days.

“Careful.” Jack had put on his gloves, and carefully grabbed the skull and shoulders, as though afraid the bones might crumble. But they weren't that brittle, weren't that old. The clothing, in the midst of being lifted, folded and draped around the lightweight frame.

“Jack,” Daniel pleaded, “I can hear you, and see you. Death isn't dead, Jack. Please. I can hear you.” At a loss to know what to do, and with no other option, he followed his teammates from the room…

… and was restrained harshly by the impenetrable force field, almost bouncing him backwards. “What?” Daniel's surprise turned to fear as his friends left the cell with his body. He tried again, but though the jolt did not physically hurt, it did not allow him passage. “Wait! Oh God, wait, wait! Jack! Teal'c! You have to take me with you!” Desperate now to depart the cell, to return with his teammates back home, back to Earth, Daniel was fighting the barbarous truth that confronted him: he could not leave. He was trapped… for what, the rest of his ghostly, ghastly existence?

“Wait for me! Don't leave! Jack!” But no amount of hope or exertion or impetus would allow him through the barrier of the doorway, nor through the walls, and his call could not be heard. “We're trapped where we die?” He shouted aloud to the room, to himself, to any deity that might exist beyond one's imagination, panic overtaking him in frenzied movements. Please, I need to leave!

But Daniel was able to go nowhere, as the two sets of quiet footsteps faded into the distance.

_____

SG-1 slowly made their way to the stargate, watching hopelessly as dozens of aliens, locals, and humanoids marched in various directions after having reclaimed their buddies. People everywhere moved with heavy hearts and downcast gazes, carrying newly dead corpses, old skeletons, and some still living but badly injured bodies. Few people spoke, but relief that the intra-city warring was over was plastered all over their faces, evident in body language and demeanor, in the silence of their withdrawn moods and dragging or rushing footsteps. Smoke rose between the hillsides, ash and charred remains of dwellings littered their paths. It was a bittersweet end to the conflict, for much had been destroyed and rebuilding would take months.

But for those who had escaped or survived their imprisonment, the waiting was over. Those who had been captured were now free.
_____

Daniel stared at the doorway, a doorway - like the walls - awash in glimmering shards and streaks of light, emanating a silent pulse. Despair had swept over him like a wave in a storm, before settling as a lump in his stomach. As time passed, he barely noticed himself falling, dropping, sitting, his mind a tangle of dead and alive.

They left.

They left, and are gone.

But I remain.

He had no idea how long he sat there, resting against the floor for whatever good it did, feeling sorry for himself but more than that, becoming familiar with the repressive terror coagulating in the pit of his abdomen and sliding disastrously up into his heart and throat. Psychological dread and heartache warred with physical numbness, although that, too, was likely just a pseudo-physical manifestation of the psyche.

Where was that light people speak of, when one dies? Because it damn well wasn't paying any attention to him. Had he done something morally wrong, heartless, evil? Condemned himself to hell, or ghostliness, for his life's deeds? For failing someone who needed him? For being as homeless in life as he now seemed in death?

For all he knew, he'd been sitting there another year. Time had no meaning any more. Neither did life.

“You're Waiting?”

Daniel's red-rimmed eyes - or so he thought, if he had eyes at all - shot open at the welcome interruption. Two women were standing before him, mildly curious but not unsympathetic. The soft voice had been almost ethereal. Had he heard it at all?

“I guess I am.” Daniel rose quickly, hopefully. Such a small offering - a voice meant for him, a presence - yet it had renewed something alive within him. “You can see me?”

“Yes,” one answered gently. “Our bodies have just been claimed, and now we're free to move on.”

"Then.... you were kept here too, in this, this, place? You're … you're, dead?” The last word was a whisper, an echo in his own head.

“Imprisoned, as you are. But we're all being freed, now.”

We are?

Hope lit Daniel's eyes. “We are?” Could he find his way back to Earth, would he be able to penetrate a womhole if one were to be opened? That didn't seem likely, and who knew where he'd end up, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. One step at a time.

“Our lives will be different, now. But we have no choice but to move on,” the other confirmed.

“I can leave now? I haven't been able to go anywhere, to leave this cell.” Daniel frowned, too many thoughts bombarding his non-real brain, too many questions. “You've, um, come to take me with?” he inquired hesitantly. He'd rush through the doorway in a heartbeat, if they weren't standing there blocking it; yet something else didn't feel right. For once, Daniel realized he really wasn't all that curious about his situation or what plane of existence this was… or how they knew what he did not. Apathy and shock were settling in and all he wanted to do was get out of there… or close his eyes and never have to open them again, if that was one of the choices.

“No.” The eyes of the women seemed saddened, and not just for the circumstances of their visit. The shimmering walls glistened behind them, through them. It was beautiful, and frightening.

“No?” A surge of fear and anger grasped Daniel's chest and throat, an anger mixed with inevitable despair. “Why not? And how did you get in here?” Daniel's eyes narrowed. “The force field didn't stop you.” He stepped swiftly between them, pushing them aside, and extended his arm towards the cell door. His hand was thrust back with a jolt, a hard wall shoving him backwards, and Daniel swung around in frustration. “What's going on? What are you doing here?”

“We came to let you know.”

“Know? Know what? That I'm being left behind?” he shouted. Why? Why him? Better off he didn't know that anyone could get out. That realization, though, sent a trail of guilt racing through him. Surely he ought to be happy for the others who could be freed from this hellhole; at least some would escape this place. His attitude softened, as he chastised himself. “Why can't I leave?”

“Only your friends can release you.”

“I don't understand. How? How are they supposed to do that? Do they know? How can they release me if they don't know how?”

“They just need to claim your body.”

“No. No, that doesn't make sense. I don't understand.” They'd done that, taken him home; he saw them. Saw them leave with his corpse while abandoning the real him to this cell, as he watched and called them and they didn't hear. “They already did.” Daniel motioned despairingly towards the empty chains. Either something else had gone wrong, or these women didn't know as much as they pretended.

“No. Your body was not claimed.”

“What are you talking about? They took my…” he paused, his voice growing softer, “my body home.” Daniel was not in the mood for games; if his teammates needed to be able to see him in order to do the job properly, then he had no hope in hell of ever leaving this miserable place. Hell was here; hope was ominously missing. He'd be trapped here for life… eternity. He shuddered at the vision.

“No. That was not you they removed. You remain among the unclaimed.”

“That was my corpse,” Daniel insisted. “They took it, me, with them.”

“No. That was Noornam. You're in the chamber behind,” one of the women motioned towards the wall. “The shock of waking when the outer force field shut down must have been too great for you, and you were thrown backwards into this division. Noornam was thrown into your quarters; he left when his body was claimed… by your friends.”

Time stopped again, or pretended to. Stillness became a complete absolute nothingness, a spatial incongruity of particles interconnecting in a bizarre dance of empty insignificance, as the utter absurdity of what they were saying began to sink in.

Daniel stared, lost in the cosmic chasm of his psyche. Many long moments passed before he could speak, his voice subdued. Another prisoner, long dead… that would explain the extreme decomposition. “What are you saying? Some other ghost is going back to Earth with my friends?” What?

“He may have moved off instead of remaining with them. Or he may have followed them to your homeworld, with no others to claim him and knowing not what else to do.”

“No. No, that was me. The, the, the, body, it was wearing my clothes. They took me.”

“No. The Sageny removed all our clothing, then handed them out randomly, do you not remember?”

And then Daniel did. They'd taken his clothes, then later brought him some others. This robe. He'd thought it was the clothing of the prisoners, at the time; had it actually belonged to someone else? The body SG-1 had taken was wearing fatigues; why had the inconsistency not registered with him earlier? Because he'd been drowning in shock and too full of fear to think clearly, that's why. It wouldn't have made any difference, anyway. And now all he could think to say, was, “Why?”

“To confuse those who might launch a rescue. We were all meant to be dead by the time anyone might come to help us. They're miserable, pretentious, retaliatory creatures, those Sageny. Even dead they would not grant us redemption.”

Daniel sat down, slowly, leaning against the wall. It was a pose he was comfortable with, if unnecessary. “So where's my body? I'm still in the next chamber?” Daniel was almost afraid to know, until he realized he was too tired to care. Tired in the mental state, for physically he felt fine. Big deal.

“For now. Among the unclaimed. And if your friends don't come for you soon, it will be too late, and you will never be released.”

“I'll be forever trapped in this room behind the force field?”

“Yes, and you shall die.”

Daniel scoffed. “I'm already dead.”

The other woman's smile was wistful, sad. Genuinely sympathetic. “No. Your body lives, in a very poor condition. You have little time left.”

Daniel's attention perked. “What?” He slowly pushed himself to his feet. “You're saying I'm still alive?”

One woman nodded, then the other in agreement. “For now.”

“No. No, how can I be here, awake, talking to you, if I'm not dead?” Daniel demanded.

“A condition rendered possible by the experimentation of the Sageny. It's why we were all in this place of study.”

“This … this building is a, a lab?”

“Your name for it is unfamiliar, but I believe your understanding to be correct.”

One of the women looked around uncomfortably, as though listening to sounds Daniel could not hear. She gripped her friend's arm in agitation, the fabric vibrating through her hand in irony. She didn't notice. “Come, Anthai. Our bodies are being removed. Come, come!”

Anthai looked at Daniel in alarm, forlornly studying his situation. “We must rush. We must go with our bodies, or we'll be trapped with you in this place. I pray for you.” She turned, as her friend rushed through the wall. Anthai paused, hesitating, then spoke with her back to him. “Tonight, after all the claimers have gone, the Roos-hain will demolish this structure, and bury the rubble along with any bodies left inside unclaimed. They want no reminders of Sageny rule.”

The Roos-hain. Daniel remembered them; they must have been victorious in the five-month-long battle. “What will happen to me then? I'll be buried here forever?” Almost alive?

“I'm sorry; I wish you well.” Without looking back, Anthai fled through the door.

“Wait!” In haste, Daniel rushed the doorway, only to again be thrust backwards.

For a moment… or was it hours… he stood, realization causing his heart to burn. His friends had come, and gone. He was about to be buried alive, his experimentally-separated consciousness trapped in its own limited spatial dimension for the rest of eternity… however long that might be. No way out, and no way to die. Alone forever, with nothing to do but think.

God. Please help me.
_____

He had one option, and that was to get back into himself, into his body. Then he could try to escape… maybe his real chains were also open, his doorway accessible to the unaltered human form. He'd been ethereally thrown through the wall once; he could do it again.

Daniel closed his incorporeal eyes, calmed his nerves… and charged.

The force field thrust him backward, and he fell to the floor. It hadn't hurt.

There he sat, trying to refocus. Re-entering his body was his only chance of getting out of there, getting away, before they demolished the building. That is, if his body was still alive at all. The women reported he was not in good shape; how did they know? Had they scouted the whole of the building, looking for lost souls, leftovers, unfortunates? If only he knew what the Sageny had done to enable this to happen in the first place. What methods did they have of separating one's mind from its physical state? Did it have something to do with the electrical charges emanating from the walls? The force field hadn't affected his teammates; they hadn't seemed to even notice it.

So Daniel sat, trying to calm his mind, trying to meditate, to will himself back into his body.

It wasn't working.

_____

Jack sat at his desk, head in his hands. He'd reminded himself over and over - for five unbearably long months - why they'd been unable to go back. He'd said it aloud to Carter, weeks ago. He'd said it to Teal'c, and Teal'c had agreed. And all those times, he knew he wanted desperately for someone - someone other than himself - to argue with him, play Devil's Advocate. For he wasn't sure he believed in himself any more.

He had, at the time. For over five months. He'd seen the blasts each and every time they'd attempted to open the gate. A few of those times they'd barely escaped without casualties in the gateroom. Most of those times, Hammond had kept the trials out of any reports; that way they'd been able to continue attempting rescues far longer than Washington would normally have allowed, had anyone else known. But MIA turned into suspected KIA, in the minds of most. Yet Jack's refusal to believe what ultimately turned out to be the truth, had put him in even greater disfavour than usual amongst his distant superiors.

Finally the dust had settled and the MALP had gone through intact. They'd learned that in only days, there would be a mass collection of hostages. They could try to find Daniel, a man of great resources. A man who'd never stop living, if there was any possible way to remain alive. That morning, they'd regained some hope.

Jack rubbed his eyes. He should have known half a year might be too long, even for Daniel. He'd had no chance at all; he'd been dead from the start.

“Colonel.” Fraiser marched into his office briskly, determined and business-like. She didn't wait for a response or acknowledgement. “That isn't Daniel.”

Jack's weary eyes shot up to connect with hers. “Janet?”

“Whoever that is you brought home, it isn't Daniel. That man has a missing molar - one that was lost in childhood. The bone healed long ago. Daniel's upper teeth were… are perfect.”

Jack rose hastily, shoving his chair backwards as it knocked against the wall behind his desk. “Let's go find Hammond.” He was out of the room before Janet could respond.

_____

“Why did they tell us that was Daniel's cell?”

“Same reason we thought it was, Carter. That corpse was the only one dressed like us.” Jack's stride up the hill was almost too brisk to match, but Sam was doing her best to keep up. Teal'c was outdistancing them both, with Dilford lagging behind. They'd heard more distressing news; the building was condemned. If those “unclaimed” were about to be buried under rubble, they may not have much time to get the real Daniel's body back. Would they even know him, if he'd been dead for months and had been wearing someone else's clothing? Who knew if the information they'd received upon returning was even accurate. In their hasty return they'd narrowly missed disintegrating the last of the stragglers heading to the gate, all of them in a desperate rush to get away from this place. For all SG-1 knew, there were no more unclaimed. For all they knew, the demolition had already taken place. In their own haste and uncertainty they'd been forced to leave the other man's body near the stargate, in the hopes that someone else might eventually claim him. Who would even know who he was, the state he was in? And surely, some of the prisoners had no one left who even cared. Jack had been tempted to bury the man on Earth, give him his final peace, but in the off-chance that his own people were out there looking for him, he swallowed the distastefulness of leaving the poor soul alone in the shadow of the looming ring. They had no time to waste; Jack just hoped that no one had accidentally removed Daniel and left him to further rot in some forgotten field upon realizing their own error. Gonna find you, pal. Will abandon you over my dead body.

Now all they could hope was that they were in time, in time to investigate before the demolition began, for without searching their hearts could never rest. Even more hopefully, there was only one unclaimed body left in the building to find, one with all his teeth intact and perfect. And hopefully, all that wasn't too much to hope for.

Hammond had wanted them to wait a day, wanted to wait for daylight. The sun was making its way towards the horizon and this wasn't a politically stable enough city to be caught in at night. But even had there not been rumours that the building was to be demolished, Jack wouldn't have wanted Daniel's body to remain in that place an hour longer than necessary. Daniel was a close friend… he was family, and Jack owed him.

They made their way hurriedly across the pot-holed, broken paths to the security building, the main lab, now empty but for a few spare guards, their presence mostly meant to guide rescuers and keep out trespassers. At least the place was still standing, and SG-1 let out a deep, collective sigh of relief.

“Hey. We need to find a body,” Jack loudly proclaimed as he approached a guard on patrol securing the building's perimeter.

The reply was in the tongue of the Roos-hain.

“Damn. Is there anyone left here who speaks English?” The man they needed was the one for whom they were searching. Where are you, Daniel? He had to be dead; if not, he would've come through the gate after the release of the prisoners. But then again, without a GDO, he would have had to find another way to contact the SGC. Maybe Daniel was out there somewhere, alive and well? Jack tucked away that small bit of optimism, the possibility that Daniel was stuck on some other planet trying to contact home. “Dead. Dead, body.” Jack tried to mime, but the blank look he received told him he'd better not go into acting after retirement. The guard pointed around the building, towards the back, then shrugged and moved on.

“Let's check it out.”

It took ten minutes to walk around to the rear of the building, what with the mass of the place and the debris strewn around the lawns. Not to mention the walkway meandering as though it had once had a different purpose in life than to be a path to anywhere.

There were a few bodies lying out in the open, most having deteriorated too badly to ever recognize or be claimed. Maybe they, too, had been on the returning end of a mistaken retrieval.

“Sir, since that other man was wearing Daniel's clothes…” Carter didn't finish her thought; her face said it all.

“Yeah. I know.” How would they know Daniel? “Maybe he still has his glasses.”

There were no corpses that looked familiar… but who could tell from decomposing muscle and flesh?

The team was at a loss, dejected and apprehensive.

“We are not leaving here without him.” If only Jack could believe that. The setting sun was low in the sky, stretching his team in long shadows of purples across the property. Jack knew he had a responsibility to keep his team safe, and they'd brought along no camping equipment. But by tomorrow this lab might be gone, taking its secrets with it. He'd send his team home if need be, and keep on searching. Not that the others would agree to go.

Not leaving without him.

“What if …” Sam sucked in a breath and stopped talking.

“What if what?” Jack snapped.

“What if…. I mean….what if they disposed of him a long time ago?”

“Carter, judging by the state of these bodies, I don't think they disposed of anyone before today. Which means Daniel is around here somewhere.”

“I don't see him, Sir.”

“One of these has to be him.”

“Sir…”

“Carter!” Jack's sharp glare cut off any other debate Sam had intended.

“O'Neill.” The salutation issued taut and sharp. “It appears as though - ”

“They're preparing for a demolition.”

“Colonel.” Sheldon Dilford pointed towards the building as another body was brought out, its collectors turning down the path leading to the stargate. “There might still be more inside.”

“Let's go.” Jack didn't need another opinion; he was already moving towards the huge entry gate. “Carter, Teal'c, with me. Dilford, stay out here and keep watch. Don't let them tear this place down until we get back!”

“And how will I stop them?” he called. “I don't think any of them speak English!” But the rest of SG-1 was already halfway across the debris-strewn yard, running towards the entrance to the massive stone building.

_____

Jack slammed open every door he saw, in every hallway, that weird green light from the ceilings the only illumination. Every cell was empty.

Finally they reached the dim, damp corridor where they'd found - or thought they'd found - Daniel, much earlier that day. All the passages looked alike, with only the numbers on the wings differentiating one from another. This one had symbols that looked like two frogs wearing hats, in Jack's mind. He remembered that.

They were alone up here; no guards, no workers, no other rescuers… and no prisoners. Their footsteps reverberated in the vast emptiness, echoed in the breathing of ghosts, an eeriness multiplied by the fact that the building was about to come down around them. All the cells they peered into were vacant…

…except one.

“Colonel!” Sam's cry rang out as she disappeared inside, as Jack and Teal'c rushed down the hall and barged into the small stone enclosure.

There was Daniel, wearing a dark robe.

Unchained, although restraints rested open on both sides of the wall near the floor. He was neither decomposed, nor decomposing. Nor was he moving. Still, silent, serene. Resting against the wall, Daniel's head hung low against his chest, and his eyes were shut. Sam knelt quickly at his side.

“Oh my God. Colonel, he's alive.”

_____

In his meditations, Daniel felt himself being dragged down, down, a force pulling from below and pushing from above. Refusing to open his eyes, he held out hope that he could do this, get back to his body. It was his only chance of survival. Pushing, pulling, the force was too strong and he nearly let go. With a sudden swoosh of air that caught at his breath and left his head swirling in nothingness, Daniel passed out.

_____


Something felt odd. Different. Not the way it had for the past weeks… months.

Slowly dragging his sleepy eyelids open, his lashes fluttering against the brightness, Daniel tried to focus on the faces blurrily coalescing before him. Where…? Sounds buzzed gratingly, his tongue was desert sand, and his entire body ached.

That was new.

“Welcome back, Doctor Jackson.” The voice was sweet music to his ears. Janet stood beside him, smiling, her face a gem in the darkness of recent miserable memories. “We've missed you.”

“Ditto.”

Daniel stiffly turned a sore neck to see Jack, Sam, and Teal'c on the other side of the bed.

“What happened?” he asked groggily, his voice rough. They'd found him? His eyes widened. Oh! They'd found him.

In time?

He tried to raise his hands, look at his fingers, move them, but there was a thin rubber tube protruding from his hand, and he had no strength anyway.

“Picked you up three days ago. Weren't looking so well. You're better now, by the way.” Or on the way to being better, at least no longer fighting death, which was something. Jack grinned.

They'd been worried. Daniel had not begun to exhibit signs of consciousness until… well, Sam theorized, until that lab had been grazed. They'd heard about some experiments; SG-4 had gone back yesterday to find out more. The last wing of the building had fallen before them… and back at the SGC Daniel had stirred.

“It's good to see you, Daniel. We didn't know what to think, all these months,” Sam sighed, rubbing his arm.

Daniel fought to keep his eyes open. “How'd you know it wasn't me?” he whispered.

“Was you,” Jack frowned. “Uh, what?”

“The first body. How did you know it wasn't me? He had my clothes on.”

“Teeth. He… hey, wait a minute. How the hell did you know about that? You've been asleep for three days.” Jack sat on the edge of the opposite bed and stared, frowning.

Daniel shook his head - a pitifully tiny movement - and grimaced, giving in to temporary pain and weakness. “I saw you take him.”

The silent room echoed the creak of the lowered bed bar as Sam leaned forward, hands pressing her weight upon it. Jack met Teal'c's eyes, as concerned and confused as his own. “Come again?”

“I was there. Watching you. I couldn't leave with you. My… mind was disconnected from my body.”

“You saw us take the other guy?” Jack repeated, astounded. He glanced up at Carter, then at Janet, their expressions meeting with dark concern.

“He wasn't me. I couldn't tell you.”

“Hold on.” Janet slowly clarified what her thoughts were trying not to admit. “You were watching your body being removed from the cell… by astral projecting?”

“I guess so.”

“Crap.”

“I realized the dental work was wrong, Daniel.” Janet's face revealed distress, and undeserved guilt. She may not have taken part in the rescue, but she had waited long hours after the team returned home before checking out the body. She hadn't been able to bring herself sooner to work on what they all believed to be Daniel's corpse. DNA would have revealed the error, but not for several days to come. Janet was just thankful she hadn't acted on her first instinct, which was to leave Daniel's body alone and intact, to be buried in peace and with dignity, no invasive investigation at all.

“Thanks.” Daniel's eyes closed. Relief overwhelmed him; just knowing the cell was gone was healing enough, for now. While he felt a lot worse physically than he had as a disembodied spirit, he knew he'd rather be here, in the infirmary but intact, than in that cell feeling nothing. “Who's the guy with the curly hair?”

“What?”

“Replacing me.”

SG-1 exchanged guilty looks. “Shel Dilford. You were MIA, Daniel. For a long time.”

Daniel nodded, keeping his eyes shut. Maybe it was time to ask them to leave, so he could sleep. Or think, or something.

“He's asked for a transfer to SG-4, when you're back on your feet.” Jack watched Daniel unsuccessfully try to contain a smile, and swatted him on the leg. “Seems five months is longer than he can put up with Carter.”

“Sir!” Sam tried to suppress her smile as well, but relief at seeing Daniel recovering got in her way. “I think he needs his sleep, Colonel.”

Daniel nodded, tilting a single lid open, wanting to see his teammates just one more time before descending into another long sleep. “Thanks for coming back for me… in time,” he mumbled, eye closing again as he allowed himself to drift off, the weight of Jack's hand still on his leg.

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Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, etc. I've written this story for entertainment purposes only.