Weather Patterns

by

Kate 

TITLE: Weather Patterns
AUTHOR: Cathryn Mortenz-Teal ("Kate")
EMAIL: Icarus3784@aol.com
CATEGORY: Smarm, Angst
SPOILERS: Stargate, the movie
SEASON / SEQUEL: My knowledge of Stargate SG-1 is limited, so I don’t have this set in any particular time-frame. My guess would be the end of season one (judging by the relationship between the characters of Daniel and Jack). Sorry I can’t be more specific.
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mild language, some violence
SUMMARY: While investigating a planet with unstable weather conditions, Daniel is seriously injured by a wolf-like beast.
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to Showtime/Viacom, MGM, Double Secret Productions and Gekko Productions. I’m not making any money from this story. It’s meant for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I’ve written fanfic before, but this is my first attempt at Stargate fanfic. Most of my knowledge comes from the movie, and the few SG1 eps I’ve been fortunate enough to see. I really enjoyed writing this, but I’m not quite sure how it measures up. If you feel inclined, please send me feedback at Icarus3784@aol.com
 

A  frivolous wind scuttled about the empty shell of the Stargate, rippling through violet-blue grass, coaxing a sibilant hiss from straw-like blades. Overhead, a turbulent sky deepened from grape to plum, dripping cranberry-dark threads over the gnarled line of the horizon. His attention momentarily diverted by the DHD, Daniel Jackson failed to notice when that same wind grew increasingly edgy, lashing his dusty blonde hair with forceful fingers.

"Storm’s coming," he heard Colonel O’Neill observe at his side.

Daniel lifted his head briefly, blue eyes narrowing behind the wire-rim frame of his glasses. With a distracted glance for the cloud-laden sky, he calmly went back to realigning the glyphs on the dial-home-device. "Preliminary probe reports indicate this planet has a history of unstable weather patterns, Colonel," Daniel informed the older man, though he didn’t bother raising his head. He wasn’t sure O’Neill even heard him. Already the Colonel had moved away, hastily relaying orders to Teal’c and Captain Carter for establishing a base camp. Having emerged through the gate only moments before, the team already found its initial investigation of the planet delayed.

"Scout around for shelter," Daniel heard O’Neill instruct the other two. "Check that ridge of rock over the next rise--there might be a cave. Damn it, Jackson, aren’t you done with that thing yet?"

Daniel gave a start when he realized O’Neill’s attention had shifted back to him. He could feel the incensed hiss of the wind now--its presence laced with impish glee as it swirled beneath his collar. Raising one hand, Daniel raked long bangs from his eyes. "Almost. You do want this thing properly aligned, in case we have to leave unexpectedly, don’t you?"

"Just hurry it up, Doctor." A twinge of sarcasm, underscored by camaraderie lingered in the professional title.

Daniel’s long fingers danced through a sequence of glyphs. Behind him he could hear the retreating rustle of footsteps as Teal’c and Carter moved away from the gate. Overhead, the sky darkened with frightening alacrity, overrun by a swirling mass of raisin-dark clouds. Lightning played along the raggedy edge of the low-lying giants--more green than white, offset now and again by a jeweled streak of vermilion flame.

Daniel paused, mesmerized by the cosmic display. As a scientist, he’d spent his entire life enthralled by the wondrous and the unexplained. Though he frequently buried his nose in books, deciphering the text of ancient civilizations, Daniel had never lost the exhilarating surge he felt when a storm rolled from the heavens. As a result, he often straddled the thin line between curiosity and recklessness. Even now the familiar intoxication overwhelmed him. Rapt with wonder, he stood with his face upturned to the sky, lips slightly parted as he drank in the spectacle.

Sensing something wrong, O’Neill snagged his arm. "Are you through?" he yelled, pitching his voice above the rising calliope of wind.

Daniel gave an involuntary jerk, senses tumbling back in an unexpected rush. Flushing, he ducked his head. With a final adjustment to the DHD, he gave a quick nod, not trusting his voice.

Fingers still wrapped about his upper arm, O’Neill dragged him from the gate, propelling him in the direction Teal’c and Carter had taken earlier. "Move it, Daniel. This storm’s coming up fast."

The grass grew denser the further they moved inland--wind-laced blades rising almost knee-high as the vegetation thickened and intertwined with a copse of sickle-thin trees. Black rock jutted obscenely from patches of grass, protruding like skeletal fingers to the churning sky. Streaks of mustard-yellow lined the surface of a few of the stones, the web-thin markings almost phosphorescent in the gathering gloom. Already rain had begun to fall--bloated drops pelting the ground with vicious force.

"There!" O’Neill directed through the shrill tumult of wind and rain.

Blinded by the beads of water clinging to his glasses, Daniel removed the spectacles and clumsily shoved them into his pocket. Blinking rain from his eyes, he tried to see where O’Neill was pointing. Hampered without the aide of corrective lenses, he detected only a fuzzy bulk in the distance.

"I think Teal’c and Carter found a cave." O’Neill was still propelling him forward, both men struggling through patches of thickening underbrush. Overhead the sky rumbled with the sound of a thousand cannons, and the keening wail of a witch-wind. A bolt of lightning forked from the heavens, shredding the sky like paper. A few feet away the ground erupted in flame as the tongue of fire burrowed into muddy firmament.

Daniel stumbled, dropping to one knee, both hands striking the ground in an effort to keep from falling forward. The impact sent a lance of pain skittering through his left arm, knifing from wrist to shoulder. Liquid fire exploded in his palm, wrenching a startled gasp from his lips. Hastily sucking down a breath, Daniel struggled to rise. O’Neill caught him beneath the arm and shoved him forward. "Damn it, Daniel. Run!"

Hampered by driving sheets of rain, Daniel forced his abruptly wobbly legs to comply. Behind him, he could hear the crackle and hiss of vegetation fired by lightning, quickly subdued by the downpour. There was an odd ringing in his ears--a discordant fey sound that had nothing to do with the wind mercilessly buffeting his back. Something wet and sticky spread across his palm, and he knew that his hand was bleeding. Up ahead he could just detect the ridge of rock, the fuzzy edges stabilizing into cleaner lines as he drew nearer. "Over here!" he heard someone yell, and his eyes tracked aside to see Samantha Carter at the mouth of what appeared to be a cave.

Mind numb, his body weighted with fatigue, Daniel wove a helter-skelter path for the blonde-haired woman. Scrambling up a rocky incline, he nearly slipped when his army-issue workboots, slid out from under him.

"I’ve got you Daniel Jackson." Daniel felt a firm, almost brutal grip on his arm, and knew that Teal’c had caught him. Surrendering to the Jaffa’s formidable strength, Daniel allowed himself to be pulled upward, into the cave. Once inside, Teal’c released him, quickly turning back to locate the Colonel. Daniel moved to the rear of the small enclosure, planting one hand against the cold rock wall, bending double as he gulped down ragged breaths of steely air.

"Everyone okay?" O’Neill asked crisply, striding into the cave. The colonel’s voice brought Daniel back to the present. Shoulders slumping against the wall, he turned and watched the rest of SG-1 file into the mouth of the cavern. Each appeared whole. Irritatingly enough, Jack O’Neill looked oddly invigorated, as if the adrenalin rush had only helped infuse an already endless stamina. By contrast, Daniel’s chest heaved with each breath he took. He noticed that although the colonel included the entire group in the inquiry, Jack’s eyes rested solely on him. As did Teal’c’s and Carter’s.

With a backhanded wave of dismissal, Daniel slid down the rock wall until he squatted on his haunches. He was cursed, he imagined, to forever be the weak link among the team. Though intellectually he outmatched them, physically he’d always be the one to hamper their missions. He didn’t have Jack or Sam’s military-honed training, or Teal’c’s incredible strength. Even now, he could feel himself beginning to shiver, drenched from the cold. It didn’t seem to bother any of the others, thus he was loathe to admit the weakness. Though he thought it odd the short run would leave him trembling, breath heaving in his chest, he stayed silent. Absently, he wiped his bloody palm against his pants.

"Daniel says the DHD is operative," Jack informed the others, apparently satisfied the young Egyptologist was not injured. "Once this storm breaks, let’s get a move on scouting the area. I want the team back through the gate before nightfall."

"Colonel, I haven’t had time to take samples of anything," Sam Carter informed her superior. She was fumbling with a monitoring device, her attention divided between the hand-held instrument and the facing wall of the cave. "This rock is puzzling. Have you noticed the scoring?"

Curious, despite the numbing cold pervading his bones, Daniel glanced aside in time to see Carter move closer to the jagged slope of rock. Her fingers skimmed the surface, as she directed the colonel’s attention to the uneven face. "Here--this thread of yellow. Do you see it?"

Though the question was directed at Jack, Daniel fumbled his glasses from his pocket and rose to his feet. A sudden twinge of pain skittered up his arm, making him stifle a gasp. Idiot, you probably broke your wrist.

"I noticed it on most of the rock in this region," Sam was saying to O’Neill and Teal’c.

Sweeping the long bangs from his eyes, Daniel approached the others. His gait was oddly stiff, making O’Neill glance askance at him. "You okay, Danny?"

"I’m fine," the younger man lied. Adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, he took a closer look at the yellow scoring. Dusting his hand across the blistered surface, he drew his fingers away, rubbing the resultant sediment between them. "Not a natural occurrence," he mumbled, "Though similar to that outside. There’s surface erosion, but . . ." His eyes roamed over the rock, noting the seemingly erratic path of the markings. There was no general order, but most of the scoring was constrained to an average height of three to five feet above ground level. As the cave deepened, the markings grew less frequent. Daniel cast a speculative glance into the shadows.

"Have you investigated how far this goes back?" he queried, eyes shifting between Teal’c and Carter.

"We did not, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c returned in his matter-of-fact tone. "There was not time for a thorough investigation."

"Daniel?" Jack prodded, attuned to the calculating mind of the young scientist.

Daniel shrugged. The movement allowed him to disguise a shiver, induced by his rain-soaked clothing. "This scoring is similar to something an animal might make. Think of . . . um . . .

a deer rubbing its antlers against a tree to mark territory. Look here--" he pointed to the wall, indicating the jagged lines criss-crossing the surface. "The height is consistent."

O’Neill balked. "So what you’re saying is . . . we’re in something’s lair?"

Daniel drew his jacket tighter, unaware his trembling grew noticeable. He couldn’t understand why he was so afflicted by the cold, when no one else seemed to mind. "It makes sense, Jack. On a planet noted for severe weather patterns, any type of life, wether humanoid or animal would need shelter to survive."

"If that’s the case," Carter spoke up, "Then where is it . . . whatever ‘it’ is?"

For answer, Daniel glanced to the rear of the cave. Shadows clustered in beds of black, the umbrage so thick it appeared to have density. With a shake of his head, O’Neill dismissed the whole matter. "We don’t know how old the markings are. Whatever made them could be long gone or even dead."

Daniel lifted his hand, exposing the beds of his fingers, covered with yellow. "It’s fresh, Jack."

O’Neill’s gaze flicked from the sediment on his friend’s hand to his face. Daniel’s eyes were unusually clear, the irises like slivers of cut glass. Unable to maintain that steady contact, Daniel lowered his eyes, drawing a veil of blonde lashes against his cheeks. His friend’s scrutiny had gone beyond the surface discussion.

"Start a fire," O’Neill instructed Teal’c. "If there is something lurking around, odds are it won’t like fire. Carter, keep an eye on the storm and anything that might creep up on the front entrance. I’ll take a stab at the back."

"Yes, Sir," the captain complied softly.

As she and Teal’c moved away, Daniel was left standing uneasily beneath the dissecting stare of the military man. The pain was back in his left arm, hinting that he’d probably busted his wrist when he fell. He could feel the rain running from his long hair, seeping beneath his collar and tracking cold fingers across his back. Suppressing a shiver, he cast a furtive glance at the older man. "No orders for me, Jack?"

"Yeah. Help Teal’c with the fire."

Daniel gave a quick nod, feeling oddly nervous beneath the colonel’s obvious scrutiny. As he started to move away, O’Neill caught his upper arm and drew him to a halt. Surprised, Daniel turned his head.

"Don’t lie to me, Daniel. You sure you’re all right?"

"I . . I’m fine, Jack." Even now with the others out of earshot, and his closest friend showing concern, Daniel couldn’t admit the truth. Mostly because he didn’t understand his sudden turn of weakness. Though intellectual pursuits had always been more to his liking, he wasn’t adverse to physical tasks. He’d always considered himself in good shape--maybe not the rock-solid grunt-and-grunge workouts of the military, but certainly someone who could pull his own weight.

Moving to Teal’c’s side, he bent stiff fingers to the task of helping the Jaffa unwrap the standard issue fire-sticks. Sucking on his lower lip, Daniel palmed one of the heavy rods.

The Jaffa seemed to sense his distraction. "Daniel Jackson?" Teal’c was watching him over the small pit he’d dug for the fire.

With a negative shake of his head, indicating he was fine, Daniel continued to unwrap the prepackaged kindling. As he did, his eyes dropped to his left hand, noting the unnatural swelling of his palm. Experimentally he flexed his wrist, thankful there was no damage, but concerned the pain he’d experienced was rooted in the fragile area. A thin, jagged line scored his palm, dotted with welling beads of blood and yellow dust. Self-consciously, he wiped his hand on his pants.

"That is sufficient," Teal’c announced, when he’d finished setting the kindling in the pit. Breaking one rod in half, he allowed the outpouring of flame to rush over the others, then carefully dropped the severed stick into the pyre. Almost immediately, Daniel felt a backwash of heat fan across his damp face. The touch induced a shudder, chasing buried chills from his body. Dismayed to find his hands trembling, Daniel pushed back against the wall. Drawing his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms loosely about his knees. Teal’c moved away, joining Samantha at the front of the cave. Outside the deluge continued, rain and wind combining in a spectacle that was both frightening and awe-inspiring.

Daniel rested his head against the coarse rock, letting his eyes drift shut. The pain in his hand slithered into his fingertips and sent needles of agony skittering up his arm. He bit his lip to stifle a groan. If he hadn’t busted his wrist, what was causing the discomfort? Surely not that pitiful excuse of a laceration. Brows drawing down in concentration, he struggled to silence the pain.

He never realized when that same concentration carried him over the brink into a state of exhaustion and welcoming slumber.

"Daniel? Come on, Doctor, it’s time to move out."

The gruff voice was joined by an equally persistent hand. Hard fingers rattled his shoulder, jarring him rudely awake. Gray light knifed beneath his eyelashes, drawing him back to a world of cold, moist air and bleak surroundings. Groaning, he leaned forward, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "God, I feel like I’ve got a hangover."

"One beer or two?" Jack O’Neill asked with a grin. The flicker of humor died almost immediately, as he digested the ashen pallor of the younger man’s face. Though the Daniel he knew had always been slender, the archeologist’s features now appeared gaunt in the waxen light bleeding through the mouth of the cave. "No shit, Daniel--the moment we’re back to base, you get your butt over to Frasier. And don’t try to tell me you’re okay, because I’m not buying it this time."

Daniel gave a weary exhalation of breath. The colonel was squatting in front of him, forearms braced loosely on his legs. "Probably the flu or something," Daniel muttered. Unconsciously he began to rub his wrist. Behind O’Neill he could see the mouth of the cave, the entrance awash in the charcoal light of a grizzled sky. The storm had passed, fading into obscurity. Inside, the fire had succumbed to cold ash, leaving the air with the distinctive razor-edge chill of early frost. Or maybe it’s just me.

"Sam and Teal’c?" Daniel asked.

O’Neill gave a toss of his head over his shoulder. "Already scouting outside. What’s wrong with your wrist, Professor?"

Daniel flinched, unaware he’d been favoring the tender area. His eyes dropped to his hand at the same moment Jack reached forward and caught his arm. The colonel drew his hand into the light, expelling a soft whistle when he saw the discoloration and bruising on Daniel’s palm. "You’re just a real mess, aren’t you, Jackson?"

Daniel tugged his arm free and began pushing to his feet. "Think I did it when I fell." A tremor of light-headedness washed over him, and he bit his lip, vainly trying to stabilize his vision.

" . . .um . . . sorry, I fell asleep. I-I don’t know what happened. I just--"

"You shouldn’t be on this mission," O’Neill snapped curtly. Though anger seeped through the words, an edge of protectiveness did too. At the moment it was the only thing keeping Daniel from biting off a wounded retort. "You know the drill, Daniel. If your health’s not up to par--"

"It’s nothing like that," Daniel said quickly. Flustered, he tried to gather his mud-entombed senses. "I was fine. I don’t know what happened."

Jack gave a short snort, easily construed as sarcastic disbelief. "Whatever you say. Let’s just wrap this and head home."

As the colonel moved away, Daniel slumped against the wall. Pinching his eyes shut, he tried to silence the ache that splintered against his temples. If it was flu, it was the fastest acting strain he ever remembered encountering. Dusting his hands against his arms in a futile effort to coax heat into his body, he suppressed a chill. His eyes slewed to the side, where he could just detect Jack picking his way down the rocky incline that fronted the entrance of the cave. Overhead, the sky emitted a guttural rumble, warning of another storm. "Get it in gear, Daniel," the colonel called.

Yeah. Preferably something other than reverse.

As he started for the front of the cave, Daniel felt a displacement in the air behind him. There was a soft hiss, followed by a sliver of contorting space. He half-turned, catching the dance of movement from the corner of his eye. In the next instance, he was propelled violently backwards. Daniel managed a startled squawk before crumbling, his body pinned to the cave floor by the crushing weight of a wolf-like beast. Twice the size of a timber wolf, the animal was covered by iridescent scales, the shimmer of weak sunlight glancing like lightning from its coat. Daniel caught a glimpse of poppy-colored eyes and sickle-shaped fangs before those same fangs descended and tore into the soft flesh of his shoulder.

Daniel screamed.

Cursing, he flung one elbow into the beast’s side. The attempt to dislodge the animal was futile. Each passing second brought the scorching stench of its breath against his cheek; the sizzling taint of salvia puddling in the hollow of his throat.

"Jack!" Daniel screamed the name of the man he prayed still lingered nearby. Closing both hands over the scale-encrusted snout, he attempted to hold the slavering beast at bay. Up close, he could distinguish a powdery-yellow substance, tipping each scale. Knife-like ridges sliced into his fingers, making him realize the shimmering plates were as lethal as they were protective. The hot, wet release of his own blood pooled in his hands--the scent disturbingly sweet, appallingly sour. Daniel felt the sticky track of warm liquid sluice down his wrists, eagerly seeping beneath the cuffed-back sleeves of his jacket. Desperately he twisted and thrashed, legs and arms raked by long, barb-tipped claws. He felt one lethally adorned paw dig into his abdomen, and reflexively threw his head back, exposing the smooth arc of his throat. Outside the thunder grew louder, signaling the building fury of the coming storm. As though spurred by the sound, the beast surged forward.

"Oh, God!" Daniel screamed as fangs raked over his collarbone, shredding soft flesh with the ease of a knife through butter. Just when he thought he couldn’t hold the beast any longer--when it would surely ravage his throat, he heard a loud crack in the air. The shrill discharge of Jack’s pistol was followed quickly by a second and third shot. The beast jerked spasmodically beneath the onslaught, then crumbled, its weight toppling to the side. With a strangled grunt, Daniel shoved the revolting carcass clear. He was trembling uncontrollably, the scent of his own blood, making his head spin.

"Geez, Daniel." Jack’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. Though he tried to concentrate on the words, the only thing that made an impression was the convulsive string of shudders wracking his body, brutally twisting his stomach inside out. He could taste bile in the back of his throat, the rancid fluid both harbinger and warning to punishing waves of white-knuckle nausea.

Daniel moaned. Something touched his face, and he reflexively flinched away.

"Ssh, it’s okay," the disembodied voice soothed. "Lie still, Danny." A pause. "Teal’c! Carter! Get in here." The voice was angry now, demanding. Sensing that he’d done something wrong, Daniel tried to recoil.

"Don’t fight me," the voice insisted, close to his ear. He could feel a warm trickle of breath against his cheek--the sense of that closeness somehow quelling his bubbling fear. Firm fingers pressed on the lacerated skin over his collarbone, trying to stem the flow of precious blood. Daniel choked. He raised one blood-slick hand and wrapped it around Jack O’Neill’s wrist. The wind skittered through the cave, laughing like a banshee, bringing the moisture-bloated hint of impending rain.

" . . . s-sorry . . . I . . . should have reacted . . . s-sooner . . ." Somehow he got the words past his trembling lips. The effort made him shudder, all other senses subdued beneath a crippling sensation of nausea. Daniel rolled his head against the ground and moaned. His lashes dipped to his cheeks, plaiting a silken veil against skin as white as marble.

Colonel Jack O’Neill swore softly. He could feel the pliable flesh beneath his fingers--at once torridly hot with blood; the underlying skin cooling with frightening alacrity, as seconds slipped into minutes and buffeting waves of agony plundered Daniel’s body. "Stay with me, Danny," he encouraged, though he wasn’t certain the other man heard.

There was a shuffling of feet at the entrance, followed by a startled gasp. In the next moment, Sam was crouched at Daniel’s shoulder, her face a mask of bewilderment and concern. Without hesitating, she peeled back his jacket, clearly assessing that O’Neill had the collarbone laceration under control. Teal’c stood at her shoulder, his face implacable as he gazed down at the young linguist.

"What happened?" Sam’s query was crisp, and she didn’t bother to raise her head. Jack watched her face cloud swiftly as she freed the buttons on Daniel’s shirt. His side was fouled with blood, the ruby-dark stain spreading beneath his waistband and over his right hip. Gently Sam tugged the material free.

"The beast?" Teal’c asked before O’Neill could formulate a reply. The Jaffa’s eyes settled on the dead animal with a gaze that might have kindled fire had it been tangible.

Jack gave a curt nod. "I was already out of the cave . . ." The words trailed away in what amounted to recrimination.

Teal’c didn’t hesitate. "There is a problem with the DHD. I will try to correct it while the two of you care for Daniel Jackson."

"Problem?" Jack barked the word even as Teal’c turned to leave. The Jaffa hesitated, staring down on the still form of the archeologist. Something indiscernible passed over his face--an emotion too fleeting to warrant deciphering.

"It was damaged by the storm," Sam explained quickly. She had freed Daniel’s shirt, but the wound to his abdomen remained hidden by the waistband of his fatigues. Gingerly Sam unbuckled his belt. "Teal’c thinks he can fix it. He’d just come back to tell me, when--"

"Never mind," Jack snapped quickly, "Just fix the friggin’ thing!"

Without a word, the Jaffa moved away. Once again Jack dispensed a string of expletives. Every nerve in his body felt raw, pulsing with ulcerating anxiety. Though he viewed all members of

SG-1 as his responsibility, somehow the young archeologist had taken high priority. There was something about Daniel Jackson--an almost boyish naivety--that instinctively brought out Jack’s protective nature. Perhaps it was nothing more than that damnable curiosity, almost child-like in simplicity. After losing Charlie, Jack had thought himself done with emotional attachments, but damn, if the idiot professor hadn’t wormed beneath his carefully hewn exterior.

Dweeb.

Raising one hand, Jack brushed the long blonde hair away from Daniel’s face. "How’s that wound?" he asked Carter. The tear to the collarbone had stopped bleeding and Jack eased back on the pressure. Noting the right lense of Daniel’s glasses bore a hairline crack, he removed the spectacles and slipped them into his pocket. Without the glasses to offset his longish hair, the Egyptologist appeared painfully young.

Geez, he’s really nothing more than a kid--playing grown-up with all those degrees, gotten way before their time. Dr. Jackson, my ass. Boy-genius with candy-wrapper credentials, is more like it. The thought no sooner surfaced, then Jack immediately cringed. Daniel didn’t deserve the sour observation. The young man was a brilliant scientist, whom he respected immeasurably. Though Daniel might occasionally act like a loose-cannon, displaying an insatiable curiosity that amounted to fearlessness, Jack equated him a status reserved for select few--that of friend.

"Colonel?"

He jerked suddenly, realizing Sam had been addressing him. His thoughts fled like liquid through a funnel. "What is it?" he asked a trifle too gruffly.

Unflustered, the captain held his gaze. "This wound isn’t deep, Sir, but it appears to be festering."

Jack’s eyes dropped to Daniel’s waist. Sam had loosened the archeologist’s belt, and unzipped his pants--folding back the material just enough to expose the wound beneath his waistband. The torn skin had puckered at the edges--fouled by blood and a milky secretion. The odor of sour flesh wafted from the wound. Jack’s eyes skittered aside, settling on the slashes angling across Daniel’s left shoulder. Those too, while not deep, had taken on a distinctive glaze. With a start, Jack realized the sheen was sickly yellow, similar to the markings on the cave wall.

"Poison?" he ventured, feeling the vile clutch of dread. Wind rushed through the cave and buffeted his body. This time he could feel the cold fingers of rain it carried. Caught in that chill grip, Daniel twisted and moaned, struggling back to coherency. Immediately, Jack cupped his cheek, feathering a thumb over perfectly chiseled bone. "Ssh, Daniel. It’s okay, buddy. Lie still." He swallowed hard, suddenly realizing how terribly vulnerable he was where Daniel Jackson was concerned. When the hell did that happen?

Glancing away, Sam busied her hands. "I don’t think it’s poison, Colonel."

He hadn’t heard her. Daniel was stirring more forcefully now, actually trying to sit forward. As full consciousness returned, so did the rattling knife-edge of pain. The linguist blanched, hitching in a breath. Though he shivered uncontrollably, sweat stippled his upper lip and brow, soaking into the ragged fringe of his bangs. Outside the sky split asunder, cracked like the shell of an egg. A guttural crescendo pummeled the cave, shaking the rock to the very ground itself. As though attuned to that battering din, Daniel groaned low in his throat.

Jack pressed both hands to the younger man’s chest, pinning him to the ground. "Daniel, be still," he commanded sharply. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the rapid thrum of the archeologist’s heart. Daniel writhed, sucking down one unsteady breath after another. His fingers snagged in Jack’s shirt, twisting the material in mute desperation. Each spasmodic crackle of lightning brought a new and deeper tremor to his body.

" . . . storm . . ." Daniel croaked the word, his voice a tattered whisper. Rolling his head to the side, he buried his face against O’Neill’s sleeve. "Ohgod Jack, please . . ."

Uncertain what the reference implied, but torn by the plea, O’Neill slipped one arm beneath Daniel’s knees, the other under his shoulders. "Get the med pak," he instructed Sam. "I want to get him away from the front of this cave." As gingerly as he could, he lifted the younger man in his arms. The unexpected movement elicited a soft moan from Daniel. Shuddering, the archeologist turned his face to Jack’s chest, blood-soaked fingers still knotted in the olive-drab fabric of his shirt. His breath came in rapid gasps, each shorter than the last.

Retreating a few feet into the cave, Jack eased him to the ground. Alarmed, the older man pushed aside the open ends of his friend’s shirt, hoping to provide more oxygen. "Danny, you’re gonna hyperventilate. Come on, Doctor--this is basic stuff. You’ve got to slow your breathing down."

Once again, Sam appeared opposite the younger man, med pak in tow. "Daniel, take deeper breaths," she said clearly. Gently, she pushed the sweat-soaked fringe of hair from his brow. For a moment his eyes found hers and he seemed to still. Then pain contorted his face and he gasped aloud with the effort to quell it.

" . . . storm . . ." he sputtered again. Gradually his breathing subsided, settling into a steady rhythm. Bending forward, Sam tended to the wound on his shoulder, wiping free the milky secretion, then cleansing the laceration with bottled water and alcohol. Daniel shuddered at the touch of the astringent, fingers locking onto Jack’s arm. White-faced and trembling, he bit back a groan.

Jack scrubbed a hand over his chin, casting a worried glance behind him. The dead beast lay stiff and lifeless, its bulky silhouette framed by the raging fury of the storm. Teal’c was out in that turbulence. Though the Jaffa possessed formidable strength, even he had to feel the effects of the squall. Cursing softly, Jack bit his lip. I should have taken Daniel more seriously when he started talking about animals and territory. I shouldn’t have left him alone.

With a baleful glare for the dead animal, Jack noted its scales had altered hue--the iridescent quality fading, replaced now by a matte-like finish, dun-colored in appearance. A string of yellow liquid seeped from its half-opened mouth and puddled beneath the encrusted snout.

"Jack?"

Daniel’s soft query drew his head around sharply. The Egyptologist was watching him expectantly, blue eyes achingly clear despite the lines of pain creasing his face. Sam had finished with the shoulder wound and was tending the gouge on his hip, her gentle ministrations, causing him to wince now and again. "Jack . . . you have to . . . find . . storm . . ."

"Danny, just lie still, okay?"

"No, I--" Lightning streaked from the sky and Daniel cried aloud, wrenching violently away. He half pushed to a sitting position, propping his shoulders against the wall, before Sam and Jack reached him. Breath rattled through his lungs like wind through the brittle rushes of a swamp. Folding an arm across his middle, he bent double, gagging on a sudden rush of bile in his throat. Vertigo spiked in his head, and he slumped against Sam, his body convulsing as violent tremors battered his lean frame. The lightning continued--again and again--each vermillion streak, coaxing a soft whimper from his lips. His stomach contorted, twisting inside-out--the bloated organ pushing raw acid against the back of his throat. An intense wave of heat washed over Daniel, sending the cave into a mad reel of shifting angles and lines. Pushing away from Sam, he lurched to the side and vomited. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, trickling down the curve of his cheek, streaking skin already damp and sheened with perspiration.

His stomach empty, Daniel crumbled against the wall. "It’s . . . all tied t-together," he mumbled weakly. Already his eyelashes were drooping shut.

Jack and Sam exchanged a glance. "Daniel?" Tentatively, the older man touched the archeologist’s shoulder. Daniel gave a short, soft grunt, but otherwise failed to respond. Lips compressing in a white line, O’Neill rose stiffly to his feet. "Stay with him," he instructed Samantha.

She flinched. "Sir, where are you going? It’s storming outside--" The words caught in her throat when she realized he had no intention of leaving the cave. Rather, his eyes were narrowed in irritable speculation on the shadows clustered at the back. Stone tunneled into that darkness, carving a passageway into congealed gloom. Understanding, Samantha gave a clipped nod of her head.

She watched as O’Neill moved away, retrieving a halogen lamp from their gear. Shifting to the side, she eased next to Daniel, drawing him down to comfortably pillow his head on her lap. She tried not to look at the yellow glaze soiling his wounds; tried not to think what that sickly sheen implied. Moments later, O’Neill disappeared into the shadows, his footsteps falling into doughy silence. Outside, the storm waned, sputtering to certain demise.

Forcing herself to relax, so her mounting tension would not be felt by Daniel, Sam rested her hand on the archeologist’s long hair. Beneath the sensitive pads of her fingers, she could feel the silken texture of thick, blonde tresses. Gently she brushed the bangs from Daniel’s eyes, paling slightly, when she beheld the increasingly ashen cast of his skin.

". . . storm . . . source . . ." Daniel mumbled, twisting slightly, clearly trapped in the throes of a troubling dream.

Soothingly, Sam threaded her fingers into his hair. "Daniel, please be still," she coaxed. Lightly, she dusted her fingertips against his temple, tracing small, calming circles over his sweat-slick skin. "We’ll get you out of here, I promise."

" . . . no," he moaned. His eyelids flickered briefly, affording a glimpse of fever-bright blue irises. Though he was still obviously afflicted by cold, Sam could feel sweat seeping into the back of his hair. Her hand skimmed over his face--touching his cheek before dropping to the hard plane of his chest. Heat blistered her fingertips.

Her eyes swept lower still--across the flat, sculpted lines of his stomach--to rest on the festering wound on his hip. The yellow secretion was spreading-- extending its reach beyond the laceration, to invade healthy skin. The edges were darker--more amber than gold, hardened with a crust-like residue. Neither the gouge on his shoulder, nor the torn skin over his collarbone, had yet to mimic those same cankerous proportions, but there was clearly a thickening of tallow discharge. Concerned, Sam bit her lip.

"Have to . . . find source," Daniel said again. He gave a deep, shuddering breath and curled against her.

Bending forward, Sam pressed her lips to his forehead. "I promise Daniel--we’ll get you home."

Colonel Jack O’Neill swore.

Not once, not twice--but a violent string of expletives that bounced around the inner recesses of the stone cavern, mocking him with deep-throated echoes. The glow from the halogen lamp was weak, creating a puddle of yellow, in the silver-tipped gloaming of heavy shadows. Yet it wasn’t the darkness that irritated him, or even the walls of confining rock, which twisted and snaked into narrow passages and fantastical contortions. Rather it was his own ineptitude and cock-sure arrogance--resurrected now in the form of one wounded archeologist. Why, damn it, why--did I brush off Daniel’s warning?

Biting silent a curse, Jack bent beneath a protruding shelf of black rock. There was no one to blame for their present circumstance, except himself. As the commander of SG-1, he was personally responsible for the entire team’s safety. The decisions he made, whether routine or extraordinary, mandated a conscious effort to recognize and neutralize threats in even the most mundane setting. Yet here was a clear indication of a territorial beast, on an unstable planet, and he had fluffed off Daniel’s warning, with little more than the added protection of a sentry and the age-old remedy of fire. Asshole.

The sound of trickling water roused him momentarily from his musings. He’d been wandering for close to an hour now--following the meandering passage through downhill slopes and alternately uphill climbs. Once, the low ceiling and rising floor, had forced him to lie on his belly and shimmy through a particularly tight opening. He’d visited caverns--some small, others vast in scope--each scored with the same mustard-yellow markings as the entrance to the cave. Though he’d kept his high-powered rifle slung at the ready, he’d yet to encounter another beast like the one which attacked Daniel.

Prodded forward by the beckoning trickle of water, Jack kept to his present course. Pellets of loose shale crunched beneath his boots as the hard packed floor gave way to softer consistency. A rippling flicker of illumination appeared at the end of the passage--the soft glow marked by shifting patterns of blue-green, like the reflection of diffused light on moving water. Approaching cautiously, Jack kept his gun leveled for fire.

The corridor thinned, then broadened into a vast chamber--the ceiling rising to spiraling heights, before opening beneath the ragged belly of a cerise sky. Enthralled, Jack tilted his head back, studying the faint ruby glow strung high overhead. Even now, fast-moving clouds amassed, clustered in billowing plumes of gunmetal gray, avocado and plum. The resulting contrast against the red-hued sky was so startling, for a moment Jack was held rapt with wonder. Glancing away, he scrubbed calloused-tipped fingers across his chin.

The soaring heights of the surrounding rock walls, coupled with their gradual upward slope, made him feel confined to the bowels of a volcano. Viewed from outside, the cavern would surely protrude with mountainous proportions above ground. This mother should be visible for miles. Why the hell didn’t we see it?

Eyes slewing to the side, Jack oriented on the source which had drawn him. Centered in the immense cavern, a rippling body of aquamarine water, emitted a soft, phosphorescent glow. There was something oddly calming, almost magical, about the small, undulating waves of satin-sheened liquid lapping at his feet. Spider-thin trails of water creased the uneven rock walls, trickling with soothing cadence into the lake-like basin. A faint hint of mist colored the edges--tinged with malachite and opalescent blue. Everywhere he looked--from the walls, dancing with the reflection of water--to the ragged hem of the lake, a scoring of mustard-yellow was present.

All right, Danny, what the hell does it mean?

The thought of his friend brought an angry lump to his throat. Once again he was plagued with a crippling sensation of guilt. His own carelessness had killed his son. That truth, coupled with a plethora of torturing demons, still woke him in a cold sweat many nights. He’d be damned if he’d let Daniel die.

In some ways the idealistic scientist was his atonement for Charlie. In another life, he and Daniel would have been at opposite ends of the spectrum--indeed, at one time they’d barely been able to speak to one another. Jack could still recall the sheepishly awkward young man who’d first unlocked the mysteries of the Stargate for them. Sometimes it was hard equating the scholarly Dr. Jackson with the clumsy innocence of his friend.

Crouching at the edge of the mesmerizing lake, Jack dipped his hand into the silken water. The touch was unlike anything he’d expected--a tingle of fire, akin to a brief, electric shock, followed closely by a cool infusion of soothing ice. Yellow smoke rose in wisp-like strings of vapor, swirling from the disturbance his hand created in the water. An odd odor permeated the air--a tangle of sulfur, sun-ripened strawberries and decay. Cloying and bitter at the same time, it stuck in his throat, swaddling his head like a blanket.

Grimacing in distaste, Jack pushed away, rising quickly to his feet. Only then did he realize how warm and humid it was in the cavern--the atmosphere nearly sub-tropical. A quick visual sweep of his surroundings, told him the only exit was the one from which he’d entered. If Teal’c were unable to get the DHD working, would it be worthwhile to bring Daniel here, he wondered--to this monolithic cavern, with it’s magical lake and greenhouse climate?

Deciding the excursion had reached an end, Jack retreated into the shadow-lined passage, intent on one purpose only--that of helping the young scientist, who’d unobtrusively become his closest friend.

Satisfied the series of adjustments he’d made to the DHD left the mechanism operational, Teal’c

jogged with lithe ease in the direction of the cave. Earlier, the sudden storm had made it necessary for him to seek shelter among an outcropping of rock. Wedged beneath a protruding lip of sleek black stone, he’d been able to witness the incredible fury of the turbulence--a dazzling spectacle of multi-hued lightning and shrieking gale-force winds. Though that atomospheric upheaval had waned--uprooting trees and scattering splintered branches like straw--shorter disturbances rose to take its place.

Even now, small cyclones--akin to Earth’s dust-devils--kindled swirls of leaves and grass from the ground in roving funnel clouds. Lingering momentarily, they traversed a short distance before succumbing to a quick death. No sooner had one dissipated, then another rose to take it’s place. Overhead, the sun became visible for the first time since their arrival--a bleary orb of tangerine paste on a red-ribboned sky.

Stranger yet, was the change in the landscape. Originally, the blue grass had been pocketed by bulging fingers of black rock--one or two scored by strings of mustard-yellow. Now, rock broached the grass in greater numbers--some rising in contorted columns, others carving serpentine paths across the rain-soaked ground. Wherever Teal’c looked, he could see mustard strings glittering weakly beneath the sickly orange sun.

It is the storm that creates it--the storm that is Daniel Jackson’s territorial beast.

The thought surfaced with little fanfare, the realization oddly ironic for its simplicity. Armed with the knowledge, Teal’c increased his pace and headed for the cave.

"Colonel." Sam gave an involuntary jerk when she saw O’Neill emerge from the shadows. Exhausted from Daniel’s fitful slumber and constant muttering, she felt an outpouring of relief at her superior’s arrival. "He’s been asking for you, Sir. I can’t seem to quiet him."

Barely hesitating, O’Neill moved immediately to Daniel’s side. The young archeologist lay half-curled against Sam, his head pillowed by her leg. He moaned softly, twitching slightly, but failed to open his eyes. The yellow glaze on his wounds had hardened into a scab-like crust, spreading beyond the lacerations to impinge clammy flesh. Scraping his knuckle down the younger man’s cheek, O’Neill wet his lips. "Danny?" he called softly.

When the other failed to respond, O’Neill turned his attention on his second-in-command. "Any word from Teal’c?"

"No Sir, not yet." Sam titled her head, indicating the front of the cave. "But you should have a look at that."

Following her direction, O’Neill noted the carcass of the beast which had attacked Daniel. Only hours before, it had been dun-like in color. Now it was almost black--its body losing its distinctive edges, as it congealed into an unrecognizable bulk.

Stunned, Jack approached the carcass, bending to examine the plate-like scales. Most had fused together, creating a step-ladder effect of solidifying mass. "It’s like the rock . . . outside," he said in bewilderment.

"But it wasn’t before," Sam inserted quickly. "That beast was living, breathing matter. Now it’s becoming an extension of the same rock that shapes this cave."

Jack had a sudden, dreadful thought. "After I shot it, that yellow stuff was coming from it’s mouth. The same kind of yellow stuff that’s on Daniel’s wounds." Moving quickly to the Egyptologist’s side, Jack squatted on his haunches. His fingers danced across his friend’s brow, expertly reading increased fever. Briefly, he considered the captain. "Sam, I need you to find Teal’c. If the DHD isn’t working, I’ll need all of you to help me get Daniel deeper into the cave."

"Sir?"

Irritably, he shrugged, not understanding his own reasoning. "I found a . . . haven . . . of sorts. There’s a lake. Hell, I can’t explain it, but I think it might help Daniel. Just follow orders and find the big guy."

Realizing the time for questioning was past, Sam gave a brief nod and eased free of Daniel. As the blonde-haired woman moved away, Jack helped his semi-coherent friend reach a sitting position. Though his back was supported by the rock wall, the archeologist crumbled to the side. Slipping an arm behind his shoulders to act as brace, Jack sat beside him and helped him upright once again. Half-turning towards the younger man, he slipped his arm free. Only his hand remained--lingering on Daniel’s uninjured shoulder, effectively pinning him in place.

"Daniel--" Jack’s voice was firmer this time, bearing an edge that demanded acknowledgment. It was that tone of crisp command which elicited response, when all his previous concern had been for naught.

Weakly, Daniel stirred and opened his eyes. "Jack--" he coughed; tried to move forward. The colonel’s hand stayed him with little resistance. "The storm . . . stopped?" The last word rose on a query. Uncertain why it should matter, Jack nodded nonetheless. Daniel drew a ragged breath and glanced aside, his eyes seeking the mouth of the cave. "Not . . . for long," he whispered. "Have to . . . reach source." Wide blue eyes sought the older man’s face. "Can’t stay here--"

"I know," Jack said quickly. He scowled, feeling the quiver of tightly bunched muscle beneath his fingertips. "We’re going to get you home, Daniel. Forget we ever saw P7X-whatever-the-wretched-hell this place is called."

Daniel shook his head. He was starting to tremble now, his muscles straining against the restriction of Jack’s hand. "No good. Healing, here."

"Damn it, Daniel, stop fighting me." Almost angrily, O’Neill released his grip. Immediately the younger man crumbled, folding in on himself. Chagrined at his own agitation, Jack caught him before he could topple. "You’re one stubborn puppy, Doctor." Bracing the linguist against his chest, O’Neill held him upright. Before he could assist further, Daniel brushed his hands aside, and shrugged back against the wall.

" . . . hurts . . ." he mumbled.

Inwardly, Jack cringed. "Sorry."

Daniel rolled his head against the uneven rock. "Not you." With stiff fingers he fastened his pants, then dragged one leg to the side, trying to get his foot beneath him.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

"Help me," Daniel commanded curtly. Too stunned to react, Jack watched the archeologist feebly attempt to stand. He was halfway to his feet, hesitating on wobbly knees, when Jack realized what was happening.

"Shit, Daniel!" This time he caught the younger man as he fell, pulling him fully upright. For a moment, Daniel clung to him--breath wheezing noisily in his throat, fingers white-knuckled into the coarse fabric of his jacket.

Shuddering, Daniel buried his face against Jack’s chest. "Don’t let go," he panted.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got you." Keeping his voice neutral, Jack tried to mask his concern. The blatant dependency of the normally self reliant linguist left him inwardly shaken. Though Daniel wasn’t one for macho-posturing, Jack couldn’t remember him ever being so thoroughly helpless. The realization induced a tight knot in the back of his throat. "Daniel--"

But the younger man shook his head, waiving off the unvoiced thoughts. Drawing back, he attempted to stand on his own. "Jack, listen . . ." Daniel swallowed, swaying slightly. With visible effort, he forced his eyes to focus. "S-Somewhere near is the . . . heart . . . t-the source. Help me find . . ."

"Daniel, you’re not making any sense." Jack was growing irritated now, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe it was nothing more than watching Daniel punish himself--forcing cracked, brittle words from his throat, his face contorting with each painful syllable. "Quit screwing around and sit down! Once Teal’c and Sam get back--"

Jack’s words were cut short by a low, ominous rumble of thunder. Daniel shuddered and lowered his head, sucking in labored breaths of raw air. " . . . can’t . . . not again . . ." he mumbled. Surprisingly strong fingers dug into Jack’s arms. "Get me out of here." Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes fastened on the nest of shadows embedded at the rear of the cave. Outside, dragon-fire chased lightning across the sky. Daniel visibly trembled. "You’ve got to trust me on this, Jack. I . . . need to go deeper into the cave."

Scowling, O’Neill tried to fluff off the request. "What you need is to sit down before you friggin’ fall down." Not waiting for a response, Jack grabbed the younger man by the biceps and began pulling him aside. "Come on--" The action was interrupted by a deafening explosion of thunder--the furious outpouring so loud, it rattled the foundation of the cave itself.

With a stifled groan, Daniel sank to his knees.

Alarmed, Jack caught him beneath the arm. "Danny?"

Daniel swore softly, an oddity in itself. Leaning forward, he pressed one trembling hand to his lacerated shoulder. His breath was coming faster now--rapid-fire gasps that forewarned of hyperventilating. Deep, convulsive tremors wracked his body. "Please . . . Jack . . . cave . . .

deeper . . ."

Uncertain what the request meant, or even how heeding it might help, Jack responded only to the obvious distress of his friend. Slinging Daniel’s uninjured arm over his shoulder, the colonel wrapped his free arm around the archeologist’s waist, pulling him to his feet. Daniel uttered one low moan, briefly closing his eyes, before obediently shuffling along in the other’s supportive grip. Once in the deeper recesses of the cave, Daniel’s ragged breathing came under control.

Jack eased him to a seat on the ground, then squatted beside him. Raising his hand, he curled his fingers around the back of the younger man’s neck. He could feel the soft scrape of long, blonde hair against his knuckles. "Daniel, what the hell is going on?" he said matter-of-factly.

Daniel blinked, closing his eyes against the muted rumble of thunder, which even now sent tell-tale vibrations ricocheting through the thick stone walls. Wetting his lips, he glanced into the shadow-draped passageway. The narrow tunnel made a serpentine gouge deep into the belly of the cave. "What did you find through there?" he asked, voice oddly steady and clear. A slight tilt of his head indicated the rock-bound corridor.

Jack followed his gaze. "Paradise," he snapped acidly. "What the hell does it matter?" When Daniel gave an involuntary wince, Jack struggled to control his mounting frustration. An annoyed sigh slipped through his lips. "It ends in a big cavern. There’s a lake . . . kinda weird, and an opening to the sky."

Daniel rested his head against the cave wall. In the pewter-laced gloaming, his eyes were unnaturally dark--a sliver of violet-blue engorged by the coal-black swell of fully dilated pupils. "Take me there," he whispered.

Jack tried to be patient. "Look, Jackson, the DHD--"

"Doesn’t matter," Daniel said tiredly, as though speaking to a slow-witted child. His voice was rasp, the words broken pieces of straw. "N-nothing on Earth, w-will . . . help. I’ll go myself, if I have to."

Cursing, Jack rose to his feet. "I wish you were healthy, so I could beat the shit out of you."

Closing his eyes, Daniel chuckled softly. "So do I--healthy, I mean. Raincheck on the other."

Narrowing his eyes, Jack considered the younger man. "Think you can walk?"

Daniel swallowed. "With help?" he ventured, tentatively.

His expression dark, Jack reached down and hauled him to his feet. "I was gonna let you fumble around on your own--sell tickets, make popcorn. You’re a real idiot sometimes, Dr. Jackson, you know that?"

But Daniel couldn’t answer. It took too much effort just concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. With Jack’s assistance, he began the slow, agonizing trek into the beckoning bowels of the cave.

Daniel crumbled.

He had tried to go on as long as possible, but the grueling trek through narrow passageways--sometimes crawling on his belly--left him visibly trembling with effort. More and more often, he found himself relying on Jack, leaning heavily against the Colonel, until finally it seemed his friend would be forced to carry him. Gasping at the heated blades of air, cruelly knifing his lungs, Daniel allowed his legs to buckle. Sharp rock struck his kneecaps, forcing a grunt through tightly clenched teeth. Dragging his arm from Jack’s shoulder, Daniel leaned forward, pressing wet palms to the cold ground. Wheat-colored hair spilled forward over his brow. Ducking his head, he sucked down lungfuls of dead air, wincing with each painful breath. "S-Sorry--" he stammered.

Jack tried to stay focused. "Take a break," he said evenly. Catching Daniel beneath the arm, he guided him back against the cave wall. The archeologist complied without so much as a mumbled protest, long-lashed eyes drifting shut with weary exhaustion.

A sliver of noise touched Jack’s ears. Warily, he glanced in the direction from which they’d come. Carter and Teal’c should have returned to the cave by now. Finding it empty, O’Neill had no doubt the two would pursue the most obvious path--deeper into the rock enclosure. Was it possible they’d caught up so soon?

Tensing, Jack raised his high-powered rifle. Straining his ears, he listened for any betraying flicker of sound. The only noise was a faint, distant trickle of water, and Daniel’s tortured wheezing. Gnawing on his bottom lip, the colonel glanced at the haggard linguist.

Daniel’s face gleamed with the sheen of perspiration, his skin almost spectral in the weak glow of halogen lamplight. Shadows defined the high, angular bones of his cheeks and inked creases beneath his eyes. The yellow crust over his collarbone had cracked and broken, exposing the ulcerating flesh beneath. Fresh blood soiled his jacket and shirt, tracking into the long edges of his blonde hair. Moaning softly, he turned his head away.

Squatting at his side, Jack puffed out his cheeks. "Hang in there, Danny. It’s not much further."

Unexpectedly, Daniel tensed. His eyes flew open--liquid pupils reflecting a crescent of halogen yellow. Casting a panicked, stricken gaze into the shadows, he attempted to get his feet under him. What little color remained, quickly fled his face. "Jack--"

Startled by his reaction, O’Neill reached out a calming hand. "Hey, take it easy--"

"Now!" Daniel spat, violently brushing his arm aside. The venom in the command was so unlike the normally genial linguist, Jack momentarily recoiled. Reaching forward, Daniel hooked his fingers into the older man’s jacket, and somehow managed the strength to pull them both to their feet. He was mumbling incoherently, the words distinctly foreign--Egyptian, Abydonian, or maybe some Latin derivation, Jack thought absently. He couldn’t tell one language from the next.

"Daniel, what’s wrong?" The words were no sooner past his lips, then he felt an unusual displacement in the air--a vibration hinting at wrongness; drawing the hair on his nape to cold, prickly attention. Spinning on his heel, Jack wrenched his gun into firing position. He caught an iridescent glimmer from the corner of his eye, even as his finger convulsed on the trigger. The tunnel erupted with a crackling echo as bullets coughed into the gloom. There followed a canine-like shriek, cut brutally short by a bubbling froth of blood. The tremor in the air solidified, coalescing into shape. Seconds later, the dead beast--now fully materialized--lay crumbled at Jack’s feet.

Daniel blanched. "We have to hurry," he said in a strained whisper. "T-There’ll be more."

Not bothering to ask for an explanation, O’Neill caught his arm and pulled him deeper into the tunnel. "Come on," he said crisply. The gun remained poised, ready for the next threat. Forty yards later they happened upon it--two of the beasts blocking the only passage forward.

"Damn persistent, aren’t they?" Jack asked tightly.

Choking back a groan, Daniel scrubbed his torn palm against his shirt. "It’s me . . . I-I’m part of them."

"Sure you are." The first beast lunged, followed quickly by the second. Raising his gun, Jack sent a tight spray of automatic weapon-fire across the tunnel. Confined by the rock tomb, the discordant moans of the dying beasts were oddly akin to the guttural rumble of thunder. Beyond the bullet-ridden carcases, Jack could just detect the soft glow of blue-green illumination at the end of the tunnel. A quick glance to the side, revealed Daniel swaying on his feet. The archeologist was shell-white, the intensity of his blue eyes oddly magnified to electric brilliance. He stood with one arm raised, the hand splayed against the cave wall for support. The cuffed-back sleeve of his jacket exposed a ridge of taut muscle in his forearm, veins popping in exaggerated relief. His lips were parted, the bottom trembling ever so slightly.

"Through there," Jack said, indicating the incandescent glow at the end of the passage. Daniel gave a brief nod and wearily pushed away from the wall. Immediately he started to crumble, his legs folding beneath him. Jack hooked him below the arm, keeping him upright. Shifting his gun to the side, O’Neill slung the Egyptologist’s arm across his shoulders, bearing the brunt of his weight. He could see thick ribbons of sweat trickling down the side of Daniel’s neck, mingling with the fresh blood on his collarbone. "Let’s get this over with," Jack muttered tightly. His own stomach was in knots, bitter anxiety fueled by concern for his friend.

Weakly, Daniel shuffled along in his grasp. The closer they drew to the cavern, the more dependent on support the linguist became. A blast of sticky, moist air struck both men in the face as the tunnel ended abruptly, spewing them into the hollow belly of the cavern.

Daniel uttered a choked sound--a tangled snort of laughter and pain. Tilting his head back, he gazed at the storm-laden sky spinning high overhead. A soft wash of rain fell from the exposed clouds, conjuring vaporous plumes of mist from the rocky ground. Shadows puddled at the edge of the lake, plaiting the ragged shoreline with musky hues of lilac, amethyst and plum. The water itself sparkled clear and blue, infused with glimmering threads of moonstone and jade. Elsewhere, tall spiraling pillars of black rock jutted from the ground, paying obscene homage to the storm overhead.

"Not exactly Eden," Jack said tightly. Incandescent light emitted from the lake, made the glow of his lamp unnecessary. Switching it off, he let his eyes sweep the cavern.

Barely able to focus, Daniel leaned his head against the colonel’s shoulder. "Depends . . . on perspective," he returned softly. "I need . . . lake . . ."

Blinded to his reasoning, Jack nevertheless complied. Maybe the water would feel good against those wounds, he thought, as he helped Daniel walk towards the shifting body of water. As they drew nearer, the surface grew oddly iridescent--reflecting back a prismatic mirror of gem-bright colors. Shivering beneath the cold touch of rain, Daniel sucked in his breath. "Like the wolves," he whispered, his eyes locked in dread fascination on the lake.

At the mention of the predatory beasts, Jack felt a tremor in the air behind him. The distortion was sharp this time--a razor-like cut, jarring every buried sense of alarm to raw alertness. Maintaining his hold on Daniel, Jack swung his gun-arm free of his body, pivoting the rifle into firing position. He had a brief glimpse of frenzied poppy-colored eyes and then the beast leapt straight towards him.

Cursing, Jack bent his finger over the trigger, releasing a spray of bullets. At his side, Daniel grunted and pushed away, staggering towards the lake. His attention divided, O’Neill released a blistering string of expletives. "Jackson!"

But Daniel was beyond hearing, or beyond caring. Behind him the rat-a-tat of automatic weapon-fire continued to slice through the cavern. The rippling distortion increased and Daniel knew that more of the wolf-like beasts continued to materialize. If the storm would only play itself out, he thought.

Please . . . we didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t mean . . .

The water lapped at his feet, the tingling shock felt through the thick leather of his army-issue work boots. Without hesitating, Daniel waded into the lake, bending forward to cut the water when it reached waist-high. Ducking beneath the shimmering surface, he allowed the electric touch to embrace him, pulling him down into the jeweled depths, where fire mingled with cold green shadow and the turbulent heart of the storm. Threads of yellow wrapped his body--the wispy cords shy at first, quickly growing bolder as their caress grew brazenly intimate. The sound of rushing water filled his head; the scent of brackish decay his nostrils. There followed a gorging splinter of pain through each infected wound. Yet it was the small laceration on his palm, that made him gasp aloud, even as he sucked in mouthfuls of fire-cold water.

A molten conflagration of pain rooted in his palm, sending agonizing waves buffeting outward through his body. Caught in silent torment, Daniel corkscrewed into a fetal position, trying to make himself as small as possible. The water buoyed him--part lover, part tormentor. Congealing blackness hung before his eyes and he felt himself slipping into a netherland.

// Go // a voice instructed in his head. // The trespass is forgiven //

Daniel blinked. The water was gone; the pain muted to distracting annoyance. He stood at the top of a tall mountain, surrounded by black-boned trees bearing diamond-shaped leaves. A sweet fragrance filled the air--honied syrup, meshed with wet grass and water-born breezes. Overhead, a pale tangerine sun bled ruddy light onto the ground.

Daniel glanced down at his clothing. The jagged tears to his uniform remained, but the wounds were healed--his skin firm and healthy once again, as though the ugly lacerations had never existed. Curiosity displacing fear, Daniel glanced at his surroundings. "Hello?" he ventured.

// We have healed you // The voice returned to his mind, and he started with the unexpectedness of it. // Now you must leave //

Daniel wet his lips. There was no visible being around him. Squinting, he glanced at the sky. "We meant no trespass."

// You blundered foolishly, inviting us to inhabit you. Our territory was clearly marked //

"The yellow scoring?" Daniel guessed.

// The breath of our storms // the voice corrected. // All is one. Do you understand? //

"I do."

// Leave // the voice said simply, and Daniel felt the darkness returning. Cold water sluiced beneath his collar. Strong pressure tugged him back to the surface, a painful bubble of air building in his lungs. He struggled, but the pressure was stronger, mercilessly dragging him back to a world of dizzying color and discordant sound. A sharp voice addressed him--incomprehensible words knifing through his mind with steel-edged reprimand. Something warm touched his cheek. Groaning, he rolled to the side. Damp stone pressed against his flesh, scraping the faint stubble of beard on his chin. Suddenly, he was coughing water through a constricted throat, in a desperate attempt to breathe. Grimacing, Daniel jerked back to full consciousness.

"Whoa!" Jack caught him as he wrenched violently backwards. "Take it easy, Jackson."

His breath still ragged, Daniel glanced around him. "What happened?" he asked cautiously.

"I was hoping you’d tell me." O’Neill gave a slight jut of his chin to indicate the other’s torn clothing. "Maybe we should call that the Miracle Pond, huh? What’s the secret--the Lady of the Lake hiding in there?"

Daniel’s expression was blank. "Huh?"

"What happened to your wounds?" the colonel clarified. "Aside from a couple of lungfuls of water, you’re as good as new."

Tentatively, Daniel examined his torn shirt. "I . . ." Owlishly large eyes shifted to the lake, then back to Jack. Hastily rising to his feet, Daniel strode to the edge of water. An odd expression touched his face as he beheld the sleeping lake. The iridescent quality had faded, rendering the cobalt surface mirror-like and still. Daniel heard gravel crunch behind him, and turned to find O’Neill at his shoulder. Wetting his lips, the young archeologist cast a quick glance to the sky. The celery-green canvas was barren of clouds for the first time since arriving on the weather-plagued planet. "The storms have stopped," Daniel observed quietly.

Jack glanced at him askance. "You wanna tell me what happened here? And while you’re at it, explain why those . . . things," he managed for lack of a better word, "just stopped coming, once you’d vanished into the lake."

Awkwardly, Daniel cleared his throat. "It’s kind of complicated."

"I’m a complicated kind of guy," O’Neill parried sharply. "Out with it, Daniel--that’s an order."

"Fine . . ." Daniel said the word as though speaking to himself. "But could we head back, Colonel? I promised someone we’d leave."

Jack scowled. It hadn’t escaped his noticed that Daniel addressed him as "Colonel" only after his own use of rank. The fact that Daniel was a civilian was a moot point. Jack had no doubt the archeologist chose his mode of address as sly overture. Sometimes the younger man could be benevolently clever. And damnably irritating.

Jack nodded. "Let’s go," he said simply.

Daniel seemed anxious to leave the cavern. It wasn’t until they were a good many yards away, that he began to speak. "I was right about the yellow scoring," he began almost conversationally. "It’s territorial markings."

Jack kept easy pace at his side. Now that they were again in the passageway, they were forced to rely on the glow of his halogen lamp. Raising the light higher, he directed the beam on a particularly dark section of tunnel. "It’s all over the place, not just in the cave. Are you telling me those wolves are that abundant? Seems to me we would’ve seen more of them."

"You’re right." Daniel ducked beneath the low ceiling of the passage. Turning his body sideways, he squeezed through a particularly tight section of tunnel. "But it isn’t the wolves that left those markings."

"Then who did?" Jack asked.

"Not who," Daniel returned. "The correct question would be what?"

Jack sighed. He hated it when Daniel got caught up in theory. Sensing his disapproval, Daniel plowed ahead. "It’s the storm, Jack. The weather is the only territorial beast on this planet. The wolves, rock, trees, ground--everything’s a part of it. It creates and destroys matter. Everything on this planet is an extension of atmospheric conditions, fueled by an ongoing pattern of storms. Predator, prey; strong, weak--however you want to describe it, it defines a life cycle. We trespassed into an area we didn’t belong."

"There’s no humanoid life here?" Jack queried.

Daniel shook his head. "As near as I can tell, the sustaining force--the only force--on this planet is the weather."

Jack frowned, clearly unconvinced. "You want me to believe it’s sentient?"

With an awkward shrug, Daniel lapsed into silence. Now that he wasn’t fighting the cold sweat of fever, he realized the air in the tunnel was really quite humid. It felt odd to have control of his muscles again--to be able to walk without clinging to his friend for support. That memory brought a tight knot to the pit of his stomach. Jack had allowed him that dependency, responding with a concern Daniel hadn’t realized existed. Though he’d always considered the colonel a friend, he’d often envisioned that same friendship extremely tenuous. More often than not, Daniel had thought Jack was merely "putting up" with his presence on the team. Though the older man was aloof and sarcastic with most, he’d been downright antagonistic towards Daniel when they’d first met. The very differences in their natures, dictated they assume opposite ends of the spectrum in most any debate. Was it possible, Jack had developed a grudging respect for him--perhaps even accepted their friendship as genuine?

Distracted, Daniel ushered the thoughts aside. Nervously, he laced his fingers through his hair. "I, um . . . spoke with something. Or someone. There was no question it was sentient, though I couldn’t say for sure what "it" was. Whether it was the force behind the atmospheric conditions on this planet, or part of the conditions themselves--I have no doubt it was directly connected to the weather patterns. There’s something unstable about the whole planet--things shift, materialize, disappear and reappear, with every change in a storm. It’s like a weaver pulling a new thread through a loom."

"And the lake?" Jack ventured, his face unreadable.

"The heart--or source--of what controls the weather."

"You knew that." It was not a question.

Daniel nodded. "After the attack I did. I’m not sure I understand this, but somehow when I fell and cut my hand, the mingling of the storm’s blood--that yellow dust we’ve seen everywhere--and my own, singled me out. That’s why I felt sick initially. I drew those wolves, or whatever they are."

"Why?"

Once again Daniel grew awkward. He cleared his throat nervously before continuing. "Because we’d ventured where we didn’t belong. The attack was punishment. Every time there was lightning or thunder I felt it inside of me, tearing me apart." He swallowed thickly, clearly uncomfortable with the memory. "Going to the lake--the source--healed me. If I hadn’t done that, the storm itself would have ripped me apart--the wolves were a tangible extension of the storm."

"Sent to kill you."

Daniel nodded.

Adopting a sour expression, Jack blew air through his teeth. "Friendly place this planet."

As usual, Daniel fell into his role as defender of alien life. "It makes no distinction between Goa’uld or human," he said matter-of-factly. "An impartial judge."

Jack cast him an arch look. "Or cynic."

"Perspective again," the archeologist countered. They lapsed into silence for a time, the crunch of their boots against the rocky ground, the only rustle of sound in the dense stillness. Finally, somewhat uneasily, Daniel cleared his throat. He cast a sharp, uncertain look at the colonel. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I . . . um . . . about what happened--"

"Colonel!" The unexpected cry sliced through the passage, cutting short Daniel’s words. Yellow light bounced against the wall--the square beam of a standard-issue military lamp. A moment later, Sam and Teal’c rounded the corner, coming into view. With an audible sigh of relief, Sam drew abreast of O’Neill. "Sir, we thought--" Startled, her eyes shifted to Daniel. Confusion momentarily clouded her face, as she digested his torn clothing. Within seconds, bewilderment gave way to joy, and she embraced him with a smile. "I don’t know how you did it, Daniel, but it’s great to have you back."

Caught off guard by the enthusiasm of her welcome, Daniel ducked his head, flushing scarlet. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he shyly returned the embrace. A brief recollection of laying in the cave, his head pillowed on her lap, came back to haunt him.

"It is good to see you well, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c announced at Samantha’s side.

Gently disentangling himself from the captain, Daniel drew back. He could still feel the flush of awkwardness on his face, and instinctively knew Jack O’Neill was enjoying his discomfort. From the corner of his eye he caught the colonel’s amused grin. "Thanks. Both of you," Daniel addressed Sam and Teal’c. "But if you don’t mind, we’ll have to talk about this later. We really need to get out of here."

"I concur," Teal’c said--the words as always, precisely modulated. "The storms have stopped, but I believe the respite is temporary."

"The DHD?" Jack asked.

"Operational," the Jaffa informed him.

"Then let’s get out of here." With a nod of his head, indicating Sam and Teal’c should lead the way, the colonel clapped a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. "Indiana Jones, you ain’t. What say we go home, Dorothy?"

Still uncomfortable with all the attention he’d received, Daniel’s only answer was a sheepish nod.

Chuckling, Jack pushed him forward.

The remainder of the trek proved uneventful. When they reached the mouth of the cave, they discovered fresh scoring on the walls--confined as before, to the area just inside the entrance. "Where wind and rain can reach," Daniel mumbled, halting momentarily to brush his fingers against the yellow markings.

Jack appeared at his side. "You sure you wanna touch that stuff?"

With a nervous snort, Daniel let his hand fall away. "The trespass was forgiven."

"Good thing. Guess you would’ve ended up like that, huh?" With a tilt of his head, Jack indicated the lump of decaying matter five feet from the cave entrance.

Tensing, Daniel followed his gaze. No resemblance to the wolf-like beast remained. The carcass had altered shape in decomposition, bones and matter solidifying into a ragged mound of black rock. Like those he had seen outside, the glossy stone protruded from the ground at a sharp angle--cracked jagged edges, streaked with the mustard-yellow blood of the storm. Daniel wet his lips. "I want to go home, Jack."

"Yeah." Though he’d been teasing before, Jack’s voice brooked no frivolity now. There was a sliver of anxiety in the archeologist’s eyes that left him uneasy--a terrible vulnerability which made Jack feel ugly for mentioning the cursed beast in the first place. Daniel’s eyes were still glued to the stone, fear and morbid fascination, riveting him in place. Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Jack tugged him out into the melon-hued light of day. "Come on, Doctor. We’re needed back at base."

The return to base passed in a haze for Daniel. Though Dr. Frasier declared him fit, she recommended he be removed from active duty for a few days, until she was certain he wouldn’t experience a relapse, or belated reaction to the injuries he’d sustained. After participating in a lengthy debriefing on the perils of planet P7X393, Daniel retreated to his apartment, where he slept for two days, hoping the experience would fade to muted memory, like the shadowy outlines of a dream. Sam and Teal’c stopped to check on him once, relaying the well-wishes of everyone at the base, and Jack called by phone, Daniel was brief both times, craving solitude more than anything else.

Finally, after three days of shuffling memories around, he returned to the base, sequestering himself in his office, where he quickly buried his nose in any open reports he could find. Hours later, he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, slipping his fingers beneath his glasses, bumping them higher on his nose. Propping an elbow on the edge of his desk, he leaned forward in his chair, exhaling softly, as he tried to massage away the tedium of mindless work. The soft blue glow of his computer screen bled a square of pallid light over the papers strewn haphazardly across his desk. The only illumination in the otherwise darkened room, the machine-glow was eerie for its spectral coldness. Sighing, Daniel leaned back in his chair, stifling a yawn.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him the hour had inched into late afternoon, and he’d yet to eat that day. Deciding another cup of mud-thick coffee would satisfy him for at least another hour, he reached for the abandoned mug, squatting amid crumbled papers, open journals and blue-lined computer print-outs.

"Kinda dark in here, isn’t it?" The voice startled him with a visible jerk. Daniel turned in time to see Jack O’Neill step into the room. Reaching for the wall switch, the colonel activated the overhead light, flooding the room with electric brilliance. "Hell, Jackson, no wonder you need glasses--"

"I can see fine," Daniel returned automatically, defensively, but he blinked, glancing away from the sting of bright light.

"Sure you can." Moving into the office, Jack walked around the desk, idly looking over the messy array of papers and dog-eared text books. Day-old candy wrappers and paperclips peeked from beneath scrawled notes and manilla file folders. "I thought scientists were supposed to be neat and tidy."

Daniel drew a breath to reply, but Jack moved on. "You’ve been kind of scare lately. How are you feeling?"

The breath whistled through Daniel’s teeth. Unnerved, he glanced aside. This was clearly not the question he wanted to answer. "I’m fine."

"That so?" Jack perched on the edge of his desk. The linguist looked decidedly uncomfortable, blue eyes darting between scattered paperwork and his computer screen--anywhere but at Jack. "Dr. Frasier thinks you might be feeling a bit uncomfortable with everything that’s happened."

"Doctor Frasier’s wrong."

"Look Daniel, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid--" Now the blue eyes did swivel up to meet him--startled; wide; unusually bright. The glare of overhead light had contracted Daniel’s pupils to almost normal size. Almost, Jack thought distractedly. He’d never known anyone to have eyes like that--a blue that defied description, and pupils that rarely, if ever, were constricted to normal size. He imagined the women on the base found that benevolent stare oddly appealing, for surely Dr. Daniel Jackson had melted his share of hearts at SGC. The geeky scientist was just too naive to realize he’d attracted a fair share of admirers--all of them currently worrying their pretty heads over the multiple-Ph.D. holder. It didn’t matter to any of them that he only had eyes for his missing wife. "Do you realize most of the base--at least the female population--is worried sick about you? You brushed Sam and Teal’c off when they came to visit, and you couldn’t wait to get me off the phone. Now you lock yourself up like a hermit."

"I’m fine," Daniel said again, though he was clearly flustered.

Jack’s gaze was pointed. "I don’t think so, Danny."

The nickname did it--made him crumble listlessly against the padded back of the swivel chair. Raking a hand through his hair, Daniel expelled a tattered breath. "I thought it would get better," he admitted softly. "I thought after a while, it would just go away, but it’s still there and I feel kind of--"

"Vulnerable? Scared?" Jack guessed. "Hell, Daniel, I’d be surprised if you weren’t. You came dangerously close to dying. Do you think that just goes away overnight?"

"It’s different this time," Daniel insisted, more forcibly now. Bracing his elbows against the arms of the chair, he leaned slightly forward. "I’ve been hurt before--I’ve even been dead before, but I never felt like I did on that planet--completely helpless, with no control over my own destiny."

Jack wet his lips, silent a moment. Locating a paperclip, he absently bent the edge beneath his finger. "Must have been how the people on Abydos felt when Ra controlled them. Maybe how Skaara and Sha’uri feel now--"

"Don’t,’ Daniel warned in a quavering voice.

Jack shrugged. "What do you wanna do? You wanna walk away from this?"

Daniel stared in disbelief. "Do you think I would leave my wife and her brother to Aphophis?"

Disturbed, Jack pushed off the desk. "Look, Daniel, I’m not very good at this--I don’t . . . discuss well. I just do. That’s how I’ve always been. Maybe I’m too blunt sometimes, and maybe my concern comes off sounding like smart-ass remarks but I wouldn’t be here, tripping over my own tongue, if I wasn’t worried about you. Just get it together, Doctor, ‘cause I need you back on my team."

For a moment, Daniel could only stare. He’d long considered Jack a friend--the closest he had--but he’d always thought that friendship a little one-sided. He’d even deemed Jack’s concern on the planet, mandated by circumstance, rather than emotion. Swallowing, he glanced down at his hands. "I didn’t thank you for what you did for me . . . on the planet, I mean."

Jack grinned crookedly. "You’re still green around the gills, Jackson, but you’re okay. I don’t leave any member of my team--especially not a friend--behind."

Unable to look up, Daniel smiled shyly. He’d spent most of his life wanting acceptance from peers. As a child he’d been mocked for being intelligent and bookish. As an adult, colleagues had blackballed him for his extremist beliefs on Egyptology. Though the bullies had gotten smarter as he’d gotten older, they were still bullies. After awhile, he simply hadn’t cared, preferring to be a loner with radical beliefs. Yet somehow through it all, his idealism had remained intact. Jack, Sha’uri, and SGC came later, making him feel a peripheral part of something he longed to join in whole. Throat tight, he simply nodded. "Thanks, Jack."

The colonel blew air through his nose. "Enough of this mush. You can’t exist on candy bars and coffee, Daniel. How ‘bout we grab a pizza and some beer?"

With a quick smile, Daniel turned to power down his PC. For the first time in days, his experience on the planet seemed vague and shadowy, like a dream. He knew it would re-emerge when he was alone, resurrecting buried fear and trauma, but he thought himself better equipped to deal with the memory. After all--he could always call Jack, or Sam, or even Teal’c if the demons grew too strong.

Pushing from the chair, Daniel snagged his jacket from the back. "I’m not much of a drinker, you know," he told the colonel. "Two beers is my limit."

"I know." O’Neill emphasized the word, slinging an arm across his shoulders. "It’s the story of my life: a cheap date."

Later, when they had reached the main floor of the compound, Daniel followed Jack outside. Overhead, the sky had grayed beneath a storm front, bowing to a dark string of clouds on the horizon. Already a fine rain had begun to fall--the gentle beads conjuring plumes of dust from the worn macadam of the parking lot. A forked tongue of lightning creased the heavens, followed seconds later by the ominous rumble of thunder. Daniel hesitated beneath the overhang of the exit doors, his eyes glued to the celestial spectacle.

Concerned, Jack appeared at his side. He could feel the shift in atmospheric conditions; the whip of wind against his face. "What’s wrong, Danny?"

The younger man shook his head. "Nothing," he returned softly, eyes still glued to the sky. "Just appreciating the storm for what it should be." His eyes shifted to the side, and he smiled slightly. "You know, Jack--I really do like the weather."

The look of wonder was back on his face--the same look he’d had when they’d first arrived on planet P7X393, and the storm had initially rolled from the heavens. It was the look Jack knew best--scientist and child skillfully rolled into one. The look of an idealist who found something unique and beautiful in most everything he beheld. It was the look of a man who hadn’t been destroyed by cynicism or fear. It made Daniel Jackson, Daniel Jackson--perpetual optimist; youthful scholar; gifted friend.

Shaking his head, Jack tugged the linguist towards his car. "You’ll like the beer even better."

 
--End--
 

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