Chapter Text
As soon as Daniel’s boots hit the ramp, a spectacular sneeze burst from his nose, announcing his arrival back at the SGC. He smiled at the familiar sight of the Gate Room with its hustle and bustle of soldiers standing ready, and the alarm signaling the return of off-world travelers.
Following SG-1’s second visit to P3R-636 when he’d convinced Shyla to destroy the sarcophagus, Daniel had remained on-base while the other members of SG-1 had scattered to the winds on some well-earned down time. General Hammond had sent him to P9P-773 with SG-2 (minus their civilian archeologist) to diffuse a potentially problematic situation. SG-4’s prior attempts to communicate with the natives had caused them to threaten hostilities toward the SGC. Daniel had been more than willing to try talking to the Malahari, a desert-dwelling people with deep ties to Earth’s sub-Saharan and Dogon cultures.
At least the mission hadn’t been all work: there were a series of ruins and temples he’d been allowed to visit. The exploration of these had been very informative and enjoyable for Daniel. But after four days of back and forth with the Malahari government, Daniel was glad to be home.
“Welcome back, SG-2.” General Hammond stood at the base of the ramp, hands clasped behind his back and a welcoming smile on his face. “Were you successful?”
“Yes sir, thanks to Doctor Jackson here,” said Major Lou Ferretti, grinning broadly, handing over his weapon and unclipping his pack before starting down the ramp on his way toward the general.
Hammond graced them with an approving smile. “Glad to hear it. We’ll debrief in half an hour.” He strode from the Gate Room and made his way up the stairs to the command center.
Daniel sneezed again, earning him a friendly chuckle and a slap on the back from Ferretti as the leader of SG-2 passed him. It also earned him an unexpected jolt of pain that shot through his forehead. Brushing sand from his long hair, Daniel smiled crookedly at Ferretti’s gesture, reflecting on how different it was from the unkind way the soldier had treated him on that very first mission to Abydos. Since then, both men had earned each others’ respect.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Sneezy,” greeted Jack, joining Daniel in the corridor outside the Gate Room. Beside him were Sam and Teal’c, who each greeted him with their own words of welcome. They had all just come back from their vacation.
“Very original, Jack,” Daniel replied, blowing his nose and making his way down the hall toward the infirmary.
“So, were you able to sweet-talk the Malahari?”
Daniel coughed a bit in response to an annoying tickle in his throat and shoved the tissue into the pocket of his vest. “Uh, yeah, I think so. They’re willing to share their record of ‘gate addresses in exchange for refrigeration technology.”
The ‘gate addresses were of particular interest because they were all worlds not known to the Goa’uld and were a secret closely guarded by the Malahari government. “They might be willing to trade other things, too,” Daniel continued. “They’ve got some kind of reactor technology that they may be persuaded to share.” Sam’s ears perked up upon hearing this.
“They’ll talk to anyone from the SGC as long as they carry this token,” Daniel added, showing Jack, Teal’c and Sam a small, black pendant hanging from a leather string. It was oval-shaped, highly polished and elaborately-carved. He had been told it was made from the horn of a rare animal and symbolized good faith. “It um… it means I’ve, uh, vouched for whomever is sent through the ‘gate to speak with them, that they’re a friend who will deal with them fairly.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose at Daniel’s words, but it was Sam who said aloud what he was thinking. “You’ve vouched for?”
Daniel dropped his gaze, very uncomfortable. Was it his imagination or did Sam seem disturbed by this? “Um, yeah. They uh, said they trusted me to treat with them with honor and respect.”
Jack cuffed him on the shoulder as they walked, sending another jolt of pain stabbing through his forehead, down the back of his head and into his neck, which then faded to a dull throb a moment later. Daniel resisted the urge to rub at the developing headache. “Way to go, Danny boy.”
“So, what have you been up to while I was gone?” asked Daniel, eager to change the subject.
“Oh, nothin’ much,” Jack drawled. “I took a few days to go fishing up in Minnesota. Weather was spectacular. Carter and Teal’c found a new toy to play with.”
“Actually, with Teal’c’s help, I took apart a Goa’uld shock grenade.”
“Really?” said Daniel in surprise. “Wasn't that a little risky?”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. It was an extremely delicate task.”
“Anyway, the inner workings are really quite fascinating. It operates by a series of —”
“Carter,” Jack interrupted pointedly with a pained expression, which Daniel found himself smiling at. Spending time with Ferretti and his team had been fun, but he’d missed his friends.
They reached the infirmary. “That’s my stop,” said Daniel.
“See you around,” Sam farewelled while Teal’c inclined his head.
Jack gave Daniel’s shoulder another couple of hearty pats, causing additional spikes of pain to lance through his already-aching head. He wished Jack would stop doing that. “Yeah, see ya later.”
Daniel exhaled wearily and tossed his keys down on the counter, coughing as he shut and locked the door of his apartment. In light of his upcoming mission tomorrow morning back under Jack’s command after his four-day stint off-world with SG-2, General Hammond had told him to take the remainder of the day off to get some rest. Daniel hadn’t want to admit it to the general, but he definitely felt like he could use it. He yawned, scratching absently at his arm, then went to feed his fish.
Daniel coughed again, wincing at the scratchiness in his throat. The dust in the air from P9P-773 must still be lodged in his airways. On top of that, he had a killer headache, which he had tried to alleviate with Tylenol and a tall glass of water back at the base, to no avail.
Sleep. That was what he needed to make the pain go away. More medication couldn’t hurt, either. Daniel took off his shoes and changed into something more comfortable. He snatched a bottle of Ibuprofen from the kitchen table before making his way to the bedroom. He took the pills, drew down the shades to shut out as much daylight as possible, then tossed his glasses on the table beside the bed, collapsed on his bed and was asleep in no time at all.
Jack joined the rest of SG-1 in the Gate Room bright and early the next day. Or, rather, make that SG-1 minus one archeologist. Daniel had yet to show up despite the fact that they were scheduled to shove off in - he checked his watch - ten minutes.
“Sir, where’s Daniel?” asked Captain Carter.
Jack shrugged. “Beats me. I’ll get in touch with security, see if he checked in yet.”
“I’ll check his office,” said Sam.
“I will contact his quarters,” said Teal’c.
Some time later, each of them returned empty-handed. Daniel wasn’t anywhere on-base.
“Maybe he just overslept,” Jack reasoned. “He was pretty tired when he left the base yesterday.”
“It is unlike Daniel Jackson to be tardy for off-world deployment,” Teal’c countered.
“I agree with Teal’c,” said Carter. She’d seen Daniel late to a briefing plenty of times, but never late for ‘gate travel.
“Let me try calling him at home,” said Jack. The phone rang and rang, finally ending with Daniel’s answering machine. “Hey, Danny boy, you there? Rise and shine, you’re late for a date with the ‘gate!” Jack allowed himself a smirk at Carter’s grimace and Teal’c’s raised eyebrow in response to his bad rhyme. Hopefully his message would do the trick as a wake-up call. General Hammond soon came into view, looking at his watch and the as-yet inactive Stargate. His expression was less than happy.
“Seriously, Daniel, get your ass over here. You’re late for the mission and Hammond’s pissed.” He hung up, then on a whim, tried calling once more just in case Daniel was now awake, but he ended up getting the answering machine again. Jack put down the phone without leaving another message, rubbing his chin. This was very irregular.
“Sir?” asked Carter.
Jack shrugged. “Dunno. He didn’t pick up. Maybe I should go check on him,” he suggested.
“Colonel O’Neill, where is Doctor Jackson?” asked General Hammond as he drew over to the phone where SG-1 were congregated.
“Uh, that’s what we’re trying to figure out, sir. He hasn’t checked in at the front desk, and he’s not answering his phone. Permission to track him down, sir?”
“Fine, Colonel,” said General Hammond with another annoyed glance at his watch. “Why don’t you go pay our boy a visit. In the meantime, SG-1, you’re back on stand-down.”
Jack shrugged out of his tac vest, removed his SG patches and made his way topside, not bothering to change out of his combat uniform. He hopped into his truck and started the engine, thinking there had to be a very good reason why Daniel wasn’t responding. The most likely explanation was that he’d overslept and hadn’t bothered to answer the phone in favor of getting himself ready for work and out the door as fast as possible, but a number of other scenarios played around in Jack’s head: What if he was hurt and couldn’t get to the phone? What if he’d been in a car accident? Jack knew in his gut that not much would keep Daniel from making it to the base, not when there was exploration to be done, and not while his wife was still out there. He was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
By the time Jack pulled into the parking lot of Daniel’s apartment, he had really started to worry. A quick conversation with the doorman revealed that Daniel hadn’t been downstairs this morning. He took the stairs two at a time, impatient with the slow elevator, and reached the eighth floor at a sprint, out of breath with aching knees, and now fully convinced that something was wrong. He rapped loudly on the door. “Daniel?”
There was no answer. Fumbling with the key and muttering a few choice words, Jack opened the door, nearly tripping on a pair of Daniel’s shoes in his haste. “Daniel?” he called again.
Still there was no answer. The place appeared to be empty and silent. Then a soft moan sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through Jack’s system. He rushed toward the sound and into the bedroom, where he found Daniel lying nearly unconscious on the floor beside the bed.
“Oh, no no no, Daniel…”
The man in front of him only vaguely resembled Daniel Jackson. Damp locks were plastered to his sweaty forehead. His face was extremely white, his eyes closed and ringed by dark circles. As Jack approached, Daniel launched into a round of horrible, hacking coughs. He also noticed with considerable worry that the linguist had been violently sick; more than once judging by the mess on the floor and the splatter on his shirt and pants. He dropped to one knee beside his friend. “Shit, Danny, what happened?”
It took Jack’s hand on his shoulder for Daniel to even register his presence. The younger man groaned and opened his eyes halfway at the touch. “J-Jack? W-what… w-what are you doing here?” Daniel panted, confused, voice very thin and shaky.
“We couldn’t find you at work this morning. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer, so I came to check on you.”
Daniel blinked sluggishly in confusion. “C-call? How’d you get… the phone to work?”
Another spike of concern shot through Jack’s chest. “Daniel?”
“N-no electricity… on Abydos,” he mumbled, then started coughing roughly in a way that sent up major red flags.
Jack rubbed his face worriedly. The archeologist was clearly delirious. “Daniel, we’re not on Abydos.” Jack touched his hand to Daniel’s forehead and flinched. “God, you’re burning up.”
“N-no, ’m f-fine… cold.” Another wave of terrible coughing ensued, leaving Daniel winded and cradling his head in obvious pain.
“You are so not fine it isn’t even funny,” said Jack, now very concerned, as he helped Daniel sit up slowly and lean against the bed, noting once again the alarming level of heat radiating from his friend’s body. “How long have you been hacking your lungs out like that?”
Daniel swallowed hard several times as if trying to keep nausea at bay before answering breathlessly. “I don’t… I dunno.”
“And the vomiting?”
Daniel merely shrugged and shook his head, then stopped with a gasp and a sharp wince, hands tightly grasping his head. Pain-filled, fever-bright blue eyes met his friend’s concerned brown ones. “Jack… I promise… I promise I’m never… gonna use the sarcophagus again. I swear…”
Jack’s forehead creased with worry. What had made Daniel say that? The fever, Jack supposed. He rubbed his friend’s shoulder. “I know, Daniel, I know you won’t. Just… stay with me, here, okay?”
Daniel closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest against the side of the bed. “Jack… c-can you get Doctor Fraiser? I don’t feel so good.”
“Yeah, you bet. You sit tight.” Jack gave Daniel’s shoulder another reassuring pat and stood, then dialed the base from the phone beside Daniel’s bed while the archeologist started coughing again.
“Put me through to the infirmary,” he barked, worry causing him to sound much harsher than he intended. “Doc,” he said as soon as Fraiser came on. “I need a medical team right away at Daniel’s apartment.”
On the other end of the line, Janet Fraiser sat up straighter in her chair at the desk in her office, not liking O’Neill’s sharp tone, nor what he was saying. She almost didn’t register the approach of her chief lab technician. “What happened, Colonel? What’s wrong with Doctor Jackson?”
“Dunno Doc, he’s real sick. He threw up, he’s burning up, he’s —” Jack cut off when Daniel doubled over and started coughing, hard. Jack angled the receiver closer to his friend, who was having trouble sitting up straight while his lungs violently spasmed. “You hearing this?”
Fraiser listened with considerable worry to the congested sounds coming from the archeologist’s lungs. Distracted, she took the paperwork from her lab tech’s hand and absently scanned the results. Her eyes went wide and her heart leapt into her throat. Oh no…
“Okay, Colonel,” she said, surprised by how calm her voice sounded. “Please stay with Daniel. I’ll contact General Hammond and send the medical team over right away.”
Jack disconnected with a word of thanks and turned back to his friend. “Don’t worry, Danny boy. Doc’s comin’ to fix you up.”