DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
"Colonel? What's wrong? Is it Daniel?"
"Colonel O'Neill? Are you all right?"
The strange male voice pulled Jack from his nightmare. "Who are you?"
"Captain Arthur Benjamin, sir. Army Intelligence, on loan to the NID and your General Hammond."
Jack's continued stare caused the young captain to wonder if he'd left something undone on his uniform. "Sir?"
"Come with me." Jack turned on his heel and bolted for the elevator, leaving the two junior officers racing to catch up.
Benjamin exchanged a confused glance with Sam, who merely shrugged non-committally before following her CO into the elevator, with the captain close behind.
The tension in the elevator was palpable as Jack clenched and unclenched one fist while the other hand held the manila envelope and its contents clasped tightly to his chest, eliminating the chance that Sam or the captain might get a sneak peek. The elevator slowed to a halt, and Jack glared at the floor number on the wall, his frown deepening as he realized it was two floors too low. As the doors parted, he immediately held down the 'close doors' button, causing the doors to snap shut in the face of an over-large businessman. His very vocal protest, as the doors shut, was met with Jack's angry "Take the next car!"
Jack sprang from the elevator as soon as the doors began to part, and stalked down the hall, Carter and Benjamin once again following closely behind.
Sam was surprised to see that for the first time since checking in the colonel had no trouble getting the door open. 'Good thing, too.'
"Carter, is the phone in the bedroom a different line than the one out here?"
"Your bedroom is, yes, sir." She made a mental note to thank Hammond's receptionist when she got home.
"Check him out. I'm going to call Hammond." The bedroom door slammed behind him.
"Is he always like that?" Benjamin asked in a low voice.
Sam shook her head as she held out her hand. "No. Something's wrong. Let me have your credentials, Captain."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Jack sank wearily onto the bed, pulling the phone toward him as he did so. Even as he dialed, he couldn't stop looking at the picture. Daniel's color was bad, very bad, the heightened tint to his face indicated either a fever, embarrassment, or possibly both. And the circles under his eyes were entirely too dark. His hands were bound tightly above his head, the cord cutting into his wrists. His travel clothes were gone, replaced by a thin, possibly even silk, robe. Which barely covered anything. And his feet were no exception. They were bare, and, now that Jack had a moment to notice, had leather bindings around the ankles which were not attached to anything. If his worry button had not already been pushed, it was certainly pushed now, so much so that it took him a few seconds to realize that someone had answered the phone.
"This is Colonel O'Neill. Put me through to General Hammond. ... What? Oh, Yes. Bakersfield. 'Stupid security word.' ... Well where is he? ... What do you mean Bakersfield isn't high enough? ... I need to ... Fine, Captain. I'm back at my hotel. Do try and remember to tell the general that it's important."
Sam and the captain were deep in conversation when Jack emerged from the bedroom, looking not one iota better than when he'd left them. "I take it he's legit."
"Yes, sir." Sam continued quickly while she had the nerve. "Sir, about that envelope." She couldn't restrain her horrified gasp as he tossed the photograph onto the table in front of her. "Oh, Daniel."
Benjamin leaned forward to get a better look at the photo and tensed in barely suppressed rage. "This is Dr. Jackson?"
"Yes." Jack swore silently under his breath as he spoke.
Benjamin was not so restrained. "Son-of-a-bitch!" His eyes widened as he realized what he'd said. "My apologies, Colonel, Major."
"No need. I assume you weren't referring to Dr. Jackson?"
"NO, Sir. I'm referring to the ... person ... holding him."
"I like your attitude, Captain."
"Sir, Captain Benjamin's just told me that Dr. Marshall had pictures of most of the New York exhibit."
"We've got the movie, Carter."
"Yes, sir, but these are photos of the people with the exhibit. Maybe some of them are still working for Parker."
Jack ran his fingers through his hair. "Good point, Carter. Well, Captain, while I'm waiting on General Hammond to return my call, how about a show and tell session?"
Major Harris' face was grim. "So, McIntosh is getting ready to run."
Teal'c rose gracefully from the ground to look unblinkingly at the NID major. "Indeed. Why do you believe me?"
"Two reasons. One, because the general said that your Jaffa senses are better than the average human." He paused to unholster his weapon.
"That is one. What is the other?"
"Well, since your senses being better are a given, running's the only reason I know of for getting dressed in the dark." He nodded down at the little house. "My men are awaiting instructions. And before you ask, they aren't the ones with the cigarette lighters and map lights."
Teal'c nodded his approval. "General Hammond is a wise man."
The Jaffa's matter-of-fact statement took Harris by surprise. "What?"
"General Hammond asked me to trust you. I do not believe that trust to be misplaced."
"Thank you, Teal'c. Just one thing."
"What is that Major Harris?"
"We need McIntosh alive. The boys in New York haven't gotten a thing out of the prisoner there."
"As you wish."
Daniel leaned back against the bedpost, trying to get more comfortable. Right, like that was possible where he was. God, he was so tired. Every part of his body ached as if he'd been beaten, and his cough was getting steadily worse. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink in he couldn't remember how long. Having his hands above his head didn't help, either. And the location of the post restraints left no doubt as to Parker's favorite kind of games.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this had been one of the worse weeks in the history of Daniel Jackson. And it didn't look to be getting any better. He'd been dunked like a damn apple at Halloween, stripped naked, shoved into a skimpy robe, and interviewed by a ... piranha. Yeah, he could see the resemblance between Parker and the toothy fish. At least he'd gotten some small satisfaction in throwing up on the Oriental rug, even if he hadn't done it on purpose. But Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum had taken great pleasure - sick bastards that they were - in cleaning him up, and dumping him here, and, dammit to hell, taking his picture. Thank God this new robe was longer than the first. Daniel shuddered to think just what would not have been covered by the earlier one, and he had no doubt at all where that glossy print was headed. A line from a TV show he'd seen somewhere played games with his thoughts. 'Strip him, bath him, bring him to my tent.'
Only this was no tent, and he'd absolutely had it with playing victim. Taking a deep breath, he went back to pulling and tugging on the ties which bound his hands. They were leather, just like the restraints on his ankles - don't go there, Daniel - and leather stretched. He hoped.