Dodecagon

By Veldeia


Day Five - SGC

They were home. Or at least very near to home. The gate room that Mitchell saw through the screens was exactly like it should be. And empty, except for a bunch of people in those protective suits that looked like something out of an old scifi-show.

Their landing was as soft and unnoticeable as any movement of this amazing ship. As soon as they were down, the ramp at the back started to open. And as soon as it was low enough, before Mitchell had even managed to really wrap his mind around the idea that they might really, truly have made it back, Teal'c had grabbed Jackson and started making his way out of the ship. But something wasn't quite right.

Teal'c's steps were really slow and wavering, as if Jackson was way too heavy for him to carry. It hadn't looked that difficult before. Mitchell couldn't know how long it'd been since Teal'c had used the last of his tretonin. He was probably sick too. He hadn't said anything about it. Damn his always solid, steady and stoical appearance.

Mitchell jumped up and ran after him, ready to offer his help. But he found out that his steps weren't too light either. He was exhausted after the long struggle to get out, the days spent without water, the CPR they'd been doing, and who knew what else.

He got there just in time when Teal'c's knees gave in and he pitched towards the floor.

Mitchell tried to catch Teal'c, or Jackson, for that matter, to stop them from hitting the ground. Instead, he found himself crashing down as well. They all landed in a heap at the bottom of the ramp.

Mitchell wanted to get up and tell Lam to take care of Jackson and Teal'c first. Jackson, most of all. He might be gone already, beyond any help. Even if he wasn't, he certainly didn't have a lot of time left. But Mitchell was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open.

When he actually saw Carolyn's face through that transparent face-plate of her suit, looking just like herself, working furiously, doing her best to help them, he allowed his leaden eyelids to close. He fell asleep right away.


Daniel was still hurting all over.

That could only mean one thing. He was still alive. Against all probability, against all reason, he wasn't dead. He couldn't understand how that was possible. He didn't feel much better, the pain was every bit as bad as before, he was dying, drowning, about to lose this battle. But breathing was easier, and the pain somehow less sharp than before, just as bad, but different.

The surroundings felt different as well. He'd thought he had been in the infirmary all the time, but he hadn't been aware of its scents, its sounds, its particular atmosphere. Now he could sense it all around him.

Something had changed, something had happened, but he couldn't understand how, or why. He needed to know. He fought to open his eyes.

The ceiling was white, but it wasn't glowing. That meant something. He didn't know what. It was supposed to be important.

"Hey--Daniel! Welcome back!" Jack uttered. Not in a happy welcoming tone, but in that wary one Daniel had been hearing all along, the one people used when speaking to the mortally ill.

Back from where? Right, Daniel could guess. He had almost died, and they'd managed to save him. Why, he couldn't figure out. Why go on when they knew he'd go anyway, soon? Too much radiation. Nothing could prevent it. He had to tell that to Jack. Tell him not to get his hopes up.

"Jack... No way--radiation-" he could hardly hear his own voice.

A blur that had to be Jack swam into his field of vision. But something was off about it. It didn't look like a normal face. It was covered and framed with something--a hazmat suit. He had thought he wouldn't cause a risk of contamination anymore.

"God, Danny--is that where you are? What you think is going on?" Jack sounded appalled. "It's not radiation, Daniel. That was years ago. Forget about that. It's a virus. They're going to figure it out. Just hang on in there. Just a while longer."

Years ago... Jack was telling him he wasn't dying of radiation sickness. He was dying of a virus... If he was dying at all. But he was. He could feel it. It was just like that time years ago. The pain was every bit as bad, the feeling that his body was falling apart completely, failing utterly.

"Wha..." he asked. What had happened. What was going on.

"You were trapped, but you got out. Thanks to you. And a few others. And everything's gonna be fine."

Trapped. White glow from the ceiling. The Dodecagon. It was hazy, but it was coming back.

He didn't remember getting out of there. Anything that had happened after they'd gotten out of the freezing room was vague and overlapped with other, more distant memories.

How could they have gotten out? And back to their own universe? Unless... This wasn't their own universe at all, but an alternate one--he needed to know! And what of everyone else? Teal'c and Sam and Mitchell? And the two visitors from the future, Galen and Max. Were they here? Were they all alive? All right? Had they got the virus as well?

Once he got started, the questions wouldn't stop, but he couldn't force his cracked lips and raw throat to spell them out loud. It was driving him crazy. The annoying, familiar beep of the ECG monitor was getting faster in time with his painfully racing heart.

"Doc! Lam! Hey!" Jack shouted.

She was there in an instant, another figure dressed in protective gear. "What's going on?"

"Daniel?" Jack asked, crouched closer to him, but he still couldn't speak.

The room had started spinning dizzyingly fast. He closed his eyes

They were really out of the Dodecagon, weren't they? But if all his previous memories and thoughts had been delusional... He knew he was feverish. What if this was just a dream? What if none of this was really happening? They could still be trapped within those twelve walls.

"He was awake, but..."

"I'm truly sorry, General... I can't have him worked up like this. He can't take it. I'll have to sedate him."

"But... He... You..." Jack was stuttering. Jack never stuttered like that. Was he an alternate Jack? Maybe he wasn't Jack at all, just someone else that Daniel took for Jack? He hadn't see his face properly, but the voice sounded right.

Jack, or whoever he was, managed to finish what he'd been trying to say. "If you do that... You don't know if he'll wake up again, ever, do you?"

Daniel knew Jack really hadn't wanted to say that. He also knew that Jack was right.

Even if it wasn't radiation, it could still kill him. The needles. The Ancient virus. The thing they'd not been sure he'd got, at first, but which had quickly become horribly obvious. Galen hadn't been able to heal it.

Lam didn't answer Jack.

Someone was wrapping Daniel in blankets from the inside out. Not thermal blankets, but soft cotton ones, flowing through him, muffling his confused mind, enveloping his aching chest. It felt good.

The last thing he heard was Jack's voice.

"Daniel. This time, you're not going anywhere. And that's an order."


Mitchell woke up in the infirmary, or at least some very familiar-looking version of it. He wasn't doing too bad, he figured, from the general lack of tubes and wires around him. Just one needle and tube in his arm, leading to a bag with clear liquid in it. No blood. Could it be that he'd missed the disease after all? The disease--Jackson!

Mitchell lifted his head slightly and looked around. He found a person he'd not have expected to see sitting right next to his bed, studying a thick stack of papers.

"Eilerson?"

"Hm?" he answered absently, still staring at whatever he was reading.

"This the best spot for reading you could find around here?"

Eilerson dropped the papers on his lap and shifted his gaze to Mitchell, looking mildly surprised. "Oh, you're awake."

"Yeah, so they tell me. Did we make it? Is everyone all right?"

"Everyone's alive, more or less. Teal'c's doing better, but he's still under close surveillance. Galen and Carter are working with this Doctor Lam of yours, trying to come up with something to help Daniel."

"So, he's..."

"He's not dead, but not much better than that either. No one's being very optimistic."

"And why aren't we all in isolation?"

"Because the first, and so far only, useful bit of information our good scientists have got is that the virus isn't contagious. It's somehow locked to Daniel's DNA. Won't touch anyone else."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Actually, if you'd just think about it for a while before speaking, it really does. Even though the wall punishments were awful, they were all limited to that place. They wouldn't spread any further from there. If the people trapped inside a freezing cold room managed to open the walls and run, they'd just leave it all behind, without any further damage. With a contagious disease, it'd be different. If they got out and away while carrying it, they might spread it anywhere outside the Dodecagon. The Duodecim wouldn't want that to happen."

"...right." Too much information, Mitchell thought. "So, why're you here, instead of, well, anywhere else?"

"I thought you'd come around rather sooner than later and then you'd want to know what's going on."

"Really? Just thinking about what I'd want? Anyway, they can't just let you run around the base freely, can they?"

"They don't," Eilerson waved towards the door further away, with two guards framing it. "I can go to several places, but my silent friends will follow. I'm surprised they let me walk around at all, after all the general suspicion Galen's been gathering around him."

"Huh?"

"Well, Lam wanted to have us all checked, which of course made sense when she'd heard a bit about everything that happened in the Dodecagon. And General Landry wanted to be sure we're not Goa'ulds or Orii or whatever. But Galen wouldn't have it. Just told them that he'd not let anyone touch him, didn't need any medical help, and that was that. He only managed to make them drop it when he pulled the healer card. Told them that he might be the only hope there was for Daniel. They were desperate enough to accept that and let him work on a cure."

Doctor Lam and General Landry. All the right people were here, and they were acting just like he'd expect them to. So, maybe they really had made it to the right universe.

"Did Carter say anything about this place? If we are where we should be?"

"She was pretty convinced this is your universe. Everything's just like it should be."

"Except for Jackson. And myself. I should be there."

Mitchell sat up and flung his feet over the edge of the bed. The room swayed a little, but settled down in a while. There was that stupid IV in his arm. He pried away the tape, pulled tube out, and pressed the spot with his fingers to stop any bleeding.

"I'm sure the nurses will be really happy about that," Eilerson noted.

"I guess I've got to run, then, before they notice."

Mitchell got up on wobbly feet. It took some effort before he could make then cooperate completely, but he'd had much worse than this. When Eilerson surprised him for the second time, offering an arm for support, Mitchell shook his head. He'd do just fine, thank you very much. Nevertheless, Eilerson followed close by when he approached the door. The guards saluted and smiled at him, and opened the door.

"By the way, do you have any idea of where you're going?"

"Some." Well, Mitchell really couldn't know which isolation room they'd picked. "Not really."

"Just follow me, then," Eilerson offered generously.

Mitchell tried to brace himself for what he'd have to face. The fact that Jackson was still grievously ill even though they were back, and the rest of them were going to be fine. He wondered if Jack O'Neill was there. He'd surely be mad at Mitchell. SG-1 had been his team since the beginning, and even now that it wasn't, Mitchell couldn't just ignore that. But Mitchell could take O'Neill's anger, since he was every bit as angry at himself. Sure, Jackson had begged to get to do the walls before he'd been hit by the needles, but it had clearly been Mitchell's decision to let him do it.

Jackson wasn't in an isolation room, but in a private one. The team working to find a way to defeat the virus was somewhere else. This was just one small room with Jackson, O'Neill and a couple of nurses.

No amount of thinking could've prepared Mitchell for the sight he faced. Sure, he'd seen Jackson in the infirmary more often than he could ever have expected since he'd started leading the team, but it'd never been anything like this.

Mitchell had thought he'd had a good collection of things on himself when he'd been stuck in the hospital after that crash in the Antarctic. Jackson clearly broke his record. Or maybe it just looked like there was a lot of stuff, because the tubes with blood stood out so clearly. Blood coming and going. And it wasn't just in the tubes. Jackson's face only had tiny red spots, but his arms were covered with what looked like spectacular bruises. O'Neill was wiping his face, carefully clearing the remains of yet another nosebleed from above the tubing in his mouth.

Mitchell approached silently, walking to the side of the bed across from O'Neill. Eilerson stayed at the doorway. Wise move from him, Mitchell gave him that.

He couldn't think of much of anything to say, so he found a chair and sat down.

He'd never seen O'Neill like this. His face was so pale that Mitchell thought he looked sick too. Sick from worry.

"See what happens when I turn my back for a couple of weeks," O'Neill said softly. It wasn't really an accusation. More like regret. Blaming himself.

Couple of weeks. That brought one important question to Mitchell's mind. "I've just got to ask... How long were we away?"

"You don't know? About three days. Two and a half. They only called me after the first 24 hours had passed. Next time, they'll know better."

Two and a half. Mitchell had counted a full four days in there. Of course, they'd probably traveled in time when they'd returned from wherever they'd been when they'd managed to open the walls. But if Galen and the ship could put them in the right time and the right universe so very near perfectly, why had they lost a day and a half? Two and a half days... That was exactly when they'd first gone through the Veraeda. Sometime in the afternoon during the third day. So they had returned just after they'd left.

If they could've just gone another day back in time and inside those walls so he could've stopped Jackson from getting the needles.

"This is all my fault, you know."

"You're the team leader now, Mitchell. When something happens to any of them, it'll always be your fault. At least in your opinion. Mine too. I can't say I'm not mad at you. I am mad at you. All of you. But still, Daniel's going to make it," he said in a tone that told Mitchell'd better not challenge that.

And he had no reason to. "He is. Of course he is."

"He woke up for a while, after they'd managed to, well, stabilize him somewhat, if that's is what you call this."

"He did?"

"Yeah. And he said enough. What he said... I got the picture that he was stuck in the time when he... ascended. Then Lam sedated him. A moment later they had to hook him up to that thing," he waved at the ventilator.

Mitchell frowned. Of course, he knew the whole story. Jackson had ascended some three years ago. He'd died of a lethal dose of radiation, after he'd probably saved all the people on the planet Kelowna.

"I really hate that idea. I loathe it. Really," O'Neill added, shaking his head.

It certainly wasn't a very positive image to go on. To compare this with the previous time Jackson had died. And if Jackson himself felt bad enough to confuse the incidents, that didn't sound too good either.

They both fell silent again. But the room around them wasn't silent. Mitchell actually liked hearing all the beeps and buzzes and hums. And it wasn't just that they told that Jackson was still alive. The Dodecagon had always been too silent. He didn't want to hear a silence like that ever again.

"You never get used to it, do you?" he said absently. "Having to do decisions that can cause things like this."

"Can't say you do," O'Neill's reply was even more absent, all his attention on Jackson.

A sudden loud voice from the PA cut the not-so-silent silence between them, accompanied by the general alarm sound.

"Unauthorized gate activation!"

Mitchell and O'Neill gazed at each other over the bed. They were thinking the same thing.

O'Neill put a hand on Jackson's forehead and stroked his hair back. Mitchell just laid a hand on Jackson's shoulder.

"We'll be back in a moment," Mitchell said, to both Jackson and O'Neill.

"So, don't go anywhere," O'Neill added, addressing just Jackson.

They ran out of the room. Eilerson wasn't anywhere to be seen. Mitchell hadn't noticed when he'd left.

They reached the stargate control room just in time to see the gateship of the Duodecim dive into the open wormhole.

Both Carter and Harriman were staring at the computer screens and looking desperate. The screens were black. All of them. They showed none of the normal gate operation programs. And Landry looked like he was about to explode.

"What the hell just happened?" O'Neill asked, before Mitchell'd managed to wrap his mind around what'd just taken place. "Who was flying that thing?"

"Galen. And Eilerson was with him," Carter replied, sounding like she could hardly believe what she was saying.

"What? No!" Mitchell certainly couldn't believe it. "The double-crossing, self-centered... shit! After all we went through together, they steal our ship and run?"

"And we haven't even counted yet how many guards they knocked out or injured, not to mention they somehow froze all the computer systems on base," Landry shouted. "Some friends you made out there!"

As soon as the General had finished, Harriman spoke timidly, pointing at the screen in front of him. "Sirs--look at this."

A miniature version of Galen, with a set of flaming, demonic wings, had walked into the computer screen. He looked sad. A message wrote itself in fiery letters against the black background.

I apologize. There was no other way. If all goes well, we shall not meet again.

"Yes, I certainly hope so too!" Landry commented.

"Where did they go? What was the address they dialed?" Mitchell asked.

"The Dodecagon. They stole the Ancient GDO as well. I don't know how they knew the address, and I can't imagine why they'd want to go there... Even if they can somehow open the walls from the outside, I don't think they can use the Veraeda to go back, unless something's changed since we left," Carter answered.

Mitchell agreed. He'd never, ever want to go back there, even if they could. Without that GDO, they'd never get through the shielding on the Dodecagon's stargate, so he'd not need to worry about that.

The words disappeared from the screen, and more followed. The image of Galen had crossed his arms and started pacing around, looking impatient.

Well, why are you still there? What are you waiting for?

Mitchell looked at Carter, who looked at O'Neill, who shrugged. How where they supposed to know what Galen meant?

A second later, the phone rang. At least the phone lines weren't dead. Landry picked it up.

"Landry," he answered.

"...Oh?" his eyebrows went up. Everyone else had fallen silent, staring at him.

"We'll be there right away."

He put the phone down and explained, "It was Doctor Lam. It seems Galen left us a parting gift. An antiviral drug, or at least that's what he says it is. The real question is, are we complete idiots if we still trust him enough to try it on Doctor Jackson?"


Daniel was lying on his back on the floor with his eyes closed, too tired and sick to do anything else.

He knew where he was. If he'd open his eyes, he'd see the white, glowing ceiling and the twelve dark stone walls surrounding him, each of them carved with an alien text he had never encountered before and could not hope to translate.

It was completely silent. There was no one else here. The others had left, escaped through the Veraeda, and they had left him behind, to die all alone.

He was alone in the Dodecagon.

Something fell on his face. Something wet. Another something touched his hand.

The barely audible sound of falling rain broke the silence.

He opened his eyes.

The ceiling was no longer white. It was spotted crimson, and the spots would drip and fall down on him, on the floor, on the tables, on the Veraeda, like rain, except that it wasn't rainwater. It was blood. His own. He knew that. How he could be sure, he couldn't tell. How it was possible, he couldn't understand, but it was.

The light rain fell slowly from the ceiling, sliding down the walls, covering the floor with a red film. It felt cool against his burning skin.

He screamed.

The sound echoed in the room, repeated endlessly from the walls, but there was no one around to hear it.


Lam looked a bit disheveled. A few strands of hair had escaped her usually neat ponytail, and she seemed really confused.

"What happened, exactly?" Landry asked her.

"I don't know. I turned my back to him, and the next thing I knew, I woke up from the floor. Galen knocked me out, and I don't know how. I'm pretty sure he didn't hit me, though. And when I got up, I saw this on the table, and that on the screen," she showed, pointing to a vial on the table, and a computer screen with a model of a molecule. It was probably the only screen in the base that wasn't black right now.

"And that's supposed to cure Daniel?" O'Neill sounded anxious.

"When I took a closer look at the screen, a mini-Galen with wings entered it and told me in fiery letters that he had figured it out, and that this was what we had been looking for. The only things the computer will show are this screen, and then a simulation of this antiviral working against the Ancient virus. But it's a simulation that's entirely Galen's work as well. And if what I hear about what happened is true, I really don't know if that's to be trusted..."

Mitchell had a pretty strong opinion on that. "We can't trust him. He was a bit like the Orii in it that we'd never get a straight answer from him. He did help us a lot in there, but we can't know what his real goals were, and whether he actually did all he could. I don't think we can even be sure he really was out and unconscious that long all those times we went through the Veraeda. He could've been faking it all."

"I've got to agree. We just can't be sure. I was perfectly ready to trust him, but just taking the gateship like that, without even trying to reason about it... I don't like what that tells about him. Still, I can't see what he'd get out of hurting Daniel more, when he's already..." Carter couldn't finish, just shook her head. She was right about that. Mitchell hadn't heard what Lam's medical opinion was, but from what he'd seen and the way people talked about Jackson, it seemed like he wasn't going to make it, unless they'd figure out something really fast.

"I can test whatever's in that vial, see if it really is what we were looking for, but it's going to take a while."

"How long? You think Daniel's going to... to last long enough?" O'Neill asked.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. It'll take several hours to be sure if this really is what we think it is and if it's really going to do any good. I can't tell if he'll live that long. His kidneys are already failing, so we had to put him on dialysis. Sooner or later, and I'm afraid it'll be sooner, his heart will fail as well. And even if everything is fine and this turns out to be a working antiviral drug, it might come too late. It's not going to magically heal everything that's wrong with him. It just might give him a fighting chance."

"And that's all he needs. Just shut up, stop wasting time and start testing the damn thing," O'Neill said heatedly. Those weren't the words Mitchell would've picked, but he shared the feelings. Standing here and talking was certainly not going to help.

Lam looked slightly hurt, but didn't say anything, just picked up the vial and turned to Carter. "Sam, I could use someone else's opinion on this as well. Someone's who's actually here, in addition to all the specialists I can call."

"Sure... " Carter answered, sounding a bit hesitant. She didn't really want to be here. She wanted to be by Jackson's side, just like the rest of them.

"And Cameron, I know you're going to be stubborn, so I'll let it pass for now. The least you can do is change your clothes. I'll get back to you later," Lam told Mitchell.

It took him a while to get what she meant. He looked down at himself. Right. He was still wearing infirmary scrubs. He'd forgotten about that completely. Maybe he'd change, but he'd do it really quickly. There were more important things to worry about.


Daniel knew he was dreaming. He knew this couldn't be true. He had realized it when the blood covering the floor, his blood, had risen high enough to reach his ears. This was absurd. This couldn't be happening. No human had this much blood in them.

He knew he was caught in a nightmare so gruesome that he couldn't believe he had come up with something like it. Still, he couldn't see how to wake up and come out of it.

The surface was rising slowly, and he was stuck, frozen on the floor, unable to move. He would drown in this absurd amount of his own blood that wasn't real.

There had to be a reality, a real world, somewhere around him. What it was, he couldn't tell. Was he really in the Dodecagon? Was he truly alone?

The blood had reached his cheeks, covered him almost completely.

He couldn't get up, couldn't move. All he could do was panic.

This wasn't true. This wasn't happening. He was imagining it all. It was a nightmare.

He couldn't wake up.

He felt the liquid flowing into his nostrils.

He was drowning.


Mitchell had changed clothes as fast as was humanly possible. Before he'd got to Jackson's room, Lam ran past him, practically shoved him aside and rushed in.

Carter came right on her tail, and Mitchell followed them. This could be good, or then really bad.

It wasn't good.

Lam had picked up the defibrillator paddles from a medic that Mitchell didn't know.

"Charging to 300--Clear!"

Mitchell had heard from Lam herself that last time, when Mitchell and Teal'c had destroyed the Ancient communication device, Jackson had woken up the fraction of a second before she'd set the paddles on his chest. This time, he didn't.

It did the trick nevertheless, or at least the monitor that had been alarming started beeping as usual again.

Only now Mitchell took in everything in the room, Carter standing next to him, O'Neill at Jackson's side as if he'd never left, and Teal'c at the doorway, still wearing scrubs.

"That's it," Lam said, when she had put the paddles away and given instructions to the nurses. Now she was gazing at the monitors. "We don't have time for any more tests. Whatever's in that vial, if it's going to help, it's his only hope. It can't possibly make things any worse."

Teal'c stepped away from the door and stood aside to give her room, as she ran out again.

"It's going to work. Everything's looked promising so far. We're just being paranoid. We've wasted time for nothing. There's no reason why it wouldn't work," Carter muttered.

"I too believe Galen sincerely wanted to help Daniel Jackson," Teal'c stated. Someone had already filled him in on what had happened.

Landry entered the room, and Lam came in right after him, carrying a syringe. She took the cap off and injected its contents into one of the many tubes connected to Jackson.

"When are we going to know if it did any good?" Mitchell asked softly.

"Well, since it's not really going to destroy the virus, only stop it from replicating further... I don't know. If he survives the next few hours, I think we might be getting somewhere."

"At least it didn't instantly make him worse. That's got to mean something," O'Neill said.

They fell silent. A few hours. They had a tedious wait ahead of them.


Daniel was still lying on his back, but the blood was gone. It had disappeared in a bright flash that had left him feeling liquid. Someone had activated the Veraeda, though he had been all alone.

He gazed at the glowing, white ceiling again. The universe might be different, but the Dodecagon was always the same.

Afraid that the nightmarish rain would start again, he closed his eyes.

Despite the panic that still threatened to engulf him, he fell asleep.


Mitchell, Carter and Teal'c sat in a row against the wall of the room. O'Neill had kept his place right at the side of Jackson's bed. Lam wouldn't have the rest of them there, since she and her staff needed some room to work.

Mitchell had long ago lost count of how many times he'd watched Lam check all the monitors and then take Jackson's vitals by herself. When she had finished, she'd turn to offer them a shrug and an uncertain look. Then O'Neill would ask her what she thought, as if he hadn't seen her expression, and she'd tell that they had to wait longer.

Mitchell hardly paid any attention to it when she moved in to do it once again. It felt like they were caught in a weird time loop of some kind, with Lam repeating her actions at set intervals, and the rest of them saying the same words, doing the same gestures over and over again.

He peered at his watch. They'd been sitting here for five hours. Every now and then, one of them had left to fetch them coffee or something to eat, but aside from that and going to the bathroom, they'd not moved at all.

Jackson was still alive, and he hadn't crashed again after that one time before they'd given him Galen's antiviral thing. He looked just like he'd looked when Mitchell had first seen him in this room. Of course, Mitchell couldn't imagine how he could look any worse than that.

Lam had finished her round, hung her stethoscope around her neck and turned to face her audience.

This time, she gave them a vague smile.

"Well?" O'Neill asked, as usual.

"I think it's working. I guess we've got to thank Galen after all."


Daniel was lying on his back with his eyes closed, too sick and tired to move.

He knew where he was. If he'd open his eyes, he'd see the white, glowing ceiling and the twelve dark stone walls surrounding him, each of them carved with a text he couldn't hope to understand.

He opened his eyes.

The ceiling wasn't glowing. It was white, but it wasn't glowing. It looked familiar. He had seen it before, many times, but not in the Dodecagon.

As his mind slowly started to take in the surroundings, he noticed that something was really off about the way he was breathing. Or rather, the way he wasn't breathing himself. It felt vaguely distressing. He wasn't doing anything at all, but air was flowing in at regular intervals. His mouth felt odd--something was in it, going through it, down his throat. This was different from everything he'd felt before.

He tried to lift his head slightly, and found that he could actually do it.

He looked ahead, and saw it all. Himself. The wires, the tubes and the blood, flowing into him and away from him and he didn't even want to know where it was going or where it came from. He couldn't stand it. Though he was still in the room, still here, still in the present, the memory of the Dodecagon and his blood falling on him like rain was too strong.

His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes tightly. Suddenly, the thing in his mouth, the fact that he wasn't breathing on his own, became more than odd and annoying. It was frightening. He tried to fight against it, tried to breathe faster, tried to cough, anything to get away from it.

"Daniel?" a voice cut through to his thoughts. "Danny, it's all right, just relax." It was Jack's voice. He remembered hearing it before, not long ago, but he had thought it had been a dream, a hopeful hallucination when he'd been alone in the Dodecagon.

Alone in the Dodecagon, drowning in blood, God, he couldn't breathe-

Bits and pieces of conversation filtered through to his panicking mind.

"Doc, I think he's-"

"-shouldn't be happening--coming around too soon-"

"Daniel, can you hear me-"

"-so much sedatives and painkillers in his system already--can't possibly give more than-"

"-switching to SIMV-"

He tried to move his hands, maybe he could tear off some of the things, get away from it all, but he couldn't move, strong hands were keeping him in his place, and he was unable to do anything but struggle feebly, try to twist his body-

Something had changed about breathing, he was getting some air when he tried to do it himself, but it still felt wrong.

He wanted to yell at those people who were talking, tell them to do something, but he couldn't-

"-this is what we're going to do--ready at hand-"

"Doctor, that's...--you sure?--I don't-"

"What you think doesn't matter, it's my call. Daniel? I'm going to take the tube out, but I can't do it if you're not with me in this."

Daniel heard that. Yes, he wanted to get it out. He would do whatever to get there. He fought to get in control of his body, and forced his head to move in a nod.

Someone was lifting the back of his bed so he was almost sitting up.

"All right, are you ready? This is going to feel a bit nasty-"

Daniel just nodded again. Just do it already.

Then someone was tugging at the thing in his mouth, and there was the disgusting sensation of that long tube sliding up and out, and he coughed and gagged and was sure he'd suffocate-

And then it was over. "Well done, Daniel! That's it," that Doctor was speaking to him again--Lam--Carolyn Lam, that was her name, he knew that. She was the new chief medical officer at the SGC.

He was at the SGC. In the infirmary.

Someone pressed an oxygen mask over his face, and he breathed in greedily. On his own. Though his throat felt like sandpaper, this was much, much better than before.

"Everything looks good--he's stabilizing. Looks like you might've made the right call after all. My apologies, ma'am," someone said a bit farther away, the same voice that had protested to Lam earlier. Daniel recognized it as well. It was one of the oldest nurses, an experienced one who always seemed to know more than anyone else and had an opinion on everything.

"Get a chest X-ray, we've got to check he didn't displace anything when he was thrashing around," Lam told her in a lower voice, but Daniel heard it nevertheless. He tried to ignore it. He didn't want to know why and what there'd be in his chest that he could've displaced.

But he was anxious to know where he really was, and when, and what had happened to everyone, and he still couldn't speak with a mask over his mouth. He opened his eyes again and tried to move, just a bit, just to show them that he was still here.

Jack was right next to him, so low that he had to be sitting. He looked around, and saw someone else, looking taller, standing at the other side of his bed. Another man. Mitchell.

"It's all right. We're back at the SGC. Our SGC, our place, our time, our universe, and everything's fine," Mitchell told him. "Sam and Teal'c are fine, I'm fine, and you're going to be fine too."

No mention of Galen or Max. Daniel frowned.

"Oh, and Galen and Eilerson have left already. Got enough of this place, I guess. Can't say what they were up to, since they never told us, but I'm sure they're fine too."


"So, yeah, basically they just stole the gateship and went through the gate back to the Do..." Mitchell was explaining to Jackson. They both flinched when he started to say the name, so he quickly changed it to, "back to that place."

"I can't believe it," Jackson shook his head.

He was looking a lot better now. He was still pale, his hands and face still carrying the occasional spot or bruise, but he was on his own, finally. During the last few days, they'd gradually removed every single tube with blood, leaving just a regular IV fluid thing and a few wires and monitors.

"I couldn't believe it either, at first. But I saw it with my own eyes. I knew it all along that trusting them wasn't smart. On the other hand, you wouldn't be here now, without Galen's help."

"But we had to trust them. We didn't have much other choice. Anyway, it wasn't just because of him that we survived. You were the one who kept the whole operation in order. Took the lead."

"Yeah, and I think we'd all have gone stir crazy without Teal'c's constant, steady and very sane presence, and if Sam hadn't figured out we could use the gateship, we'd never have gotten out--and most of all, it was you and Eilerson who managed to open the walls, and without that, none of the rest would've mattered. That's what I call teamwork. SG-1's always been the model example of it."

"So, we're going to be SG-1 again," Jackson sounded a bit hesitant about that.

"I'd like that. If you're all okay with it."

O'Neill had just left back to the Pentagon. He could only take so many days off on personal grounds. For a moment, they'd had the old SG-1 right here, and Mitchell had once again witnessed the strong bonds between those four. He'd become more certain than ever that there was no way anyone could imagine he was actually going to replace O'Neill. He'd do things his own way. He wanted to lead SG-1, and after this ordeal, he thought he might be able to handle it, too.

"Right. I think I'll just rest a few more days before our first off-world mission..."

"Right, Jackson. Lam says at least two weeks before you can get back on active duty."


The second he heard the approaching footsteps, Daniel looked up from the book he was reading. It was that nurse again. The one who'd take the blood sample. He shivered at the idea.

He'd spent a whole week in the infirmary. The first days were a complete haze, he'd been unconscious or asleep most of the time, too sick to do anything at all. Still, he couldn't forget the nightmares, and he couldn't stand seeing blood. His blood, flowing out of his body...

As the nurse stuck the needle into his arm, he closed his eyes tightly and concentrated, tried really hard to think of something else. Of course, when she moved in to take his vitals, she had to note, as usual, that his pulse was a bit fast and BP a bit high. Not like he didn't know it. Just the thought of having blood drawn made him nervous. More than that, downright scared. He saw it was ridiculous, childish, and that was why he didn't even say it to her.

The nightmares would still come to him, every single night. Not just about the blood, but about the walls as well. The twelve walls around him. They weren't closing in, weren't moving, just stood there. He was trapped inside and couldn't get out. He'd wake up in the middle of the night, trembling all over. And then he'd see the four walls around him here, and wouldn't feel any better. Two weeks in here. A whole week left. So, when he'd be physically all right and they'd let him out, he'd be a total wreck mentally.

The nurse left. She'd report it all to Lam, and the next time Lam would come to see him, she'd ask if he wanted to talk about it. He didn't wan't to. They'd just call MacKenzie or some other shrink he didn't want to meet.

He gazed at the book again, but a second set of footsteps announced another arrival. He wondered if the nurse had forgotten something. Annoyed, he turned to look.

It wasn't the nurse. It was Jack.

"Dannyboy. How's it going?"

"Great, Jack. And good to see you."

"Great. That's great! I heard the latest from Lam, and she thinks you're doing great too. Told me that there'll be no lasting effects from this after all. The last time I saw her--what was it, five days ago?--she was half worried you'd need a kidney transplant or something."

"I never heard that."

"I told her not to tell you."

"Ja-ack..."

"Anyway, she was so happy that I managed to convince her to let you out for a bit."

"Out? As in, to the cafeteria? Or, out-out? Really, out of the SGC?"

"That. Out of doors."

"I can't believe she allowed that."

"Oh, she gave me a pretty impressive list of do's and don't's. But in general, she thought it'd be good for you."

"She's not forcing me to take a wheelchair, is she?"

"You think you're up to walking? Just a bit?"

"Sure. I've walked to the bathroom and back a few times already... Right. So I might not be up to a hike, but I don't want to be pushed around like I can't take care of myself... I'm not that sick anymore, Jack. Honestly."

"So, you'll just sit in the chair until we're out of here. It's not like I'm not going to follow her list to the letter. Just don't tell her."

Daniel's best guess would be that they'd be going to Jack's cabin, though he couldn't imagine how Lam could've allowed such a trip. Once they were topside, they got into Jack's car, and started driving. And Jack wouldn't tell where they were going.

"It's a surprise," he said. "But it's not far."

Daniel watched the landscapes they were passing. It was wonderful to be out of the infirmary. Wonderful to be out just in general. Out, where there were no walls anywhere near him. They took a few turns he'd not anticipated, driving into a direction he couldn't figure out.

They ended up following a small dirt road through a forest. By the time they got wherever it was, it was starting to get dark outside. And they were still in the middle of the woods.

Jack helped Daniel out of the car. His feet felt so weak that he had to lean on Jack for support. It was embarrassing, but it was better than a wheelchair. Not that they'd have done anything with wheels here anyway, considering the narrow trail where Jack was leading him.

"Jack, please--where are we going?"

"We're almost there, don't worry."

Good thing that they were almost there. Daniel was getting exhausted already, out of breath, though they were walking slowly. After a few more steps, he had to ask for Jack's help again, so they went on even more slowly, Daniel's arm around Jack's shoulders.

He saw a light shining through the trees, and a moment later, they entered a small opening in the forest. A camp fire was lit in the middle of it, and around it sat three people--Sam, Teal'c and Cam. As soon as they saw Daniel and Jack, they cheered, and started talking, all at the same time.

"Way to go, Jackson! Welcome back."

"I hope you are not overly exhausted, Daniel Jackson?"

"Daniel! How was the trip?"

"Hey, all," Daniel answered timidly, and sat down by the fire as well.

"We figured out you'd appreciate a moment outdoors. Out of walls," Mitchell added, as an explanation of sorts.

"I really do. Thanks, guys."

Could they possibly know what he'd been thinking? About the nightmares? The feeling that he was trapped inside? He could imagine they might feel something like it too. All of them except Jack. But Jack might've guessed anyway.


They spent a few hours just sitting around the fire, talking, eating a bit--Lam had given strict orders on what Jackson must and must not eat, but they ignored most of it. Figured out that if he'd survived the Dodecagon, he'd survive O'Neill's camp cookings too. But he did skip Mitchell's chili. Told him that if it was strong enough to make Teal'c's hair stand on end, he wouldn't touch it. That was slightly exaggerated, of course, but Mitchell was cool with it anyway.

They made a huge show of wrapping and tucking Daniel in his sleeping bag, with extra blankets close at hand in case it'd get cold. They even forced him to wear a woolly hat and a scarf.

Somewhere along it all, Mitchell realized he'd stopped thinking of the others as "the SG-1" as opposed to himself. The first time when Jackson had almost died in the Dodecagon--so long ago, and still, less than two weeks--Mitchell had felt like an outsider. He'd stood away and let Carter and Teal'c take care of Jackson. Now, he was fussing about taking care of Jackson together with the rest of them, just as overly protective as everyone else.

He didn't know if the others saw it that way, but he felt like he was a part of this family now.

They stayed awake and watched over Jackson and waited. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, a vague smile on his lips.

O'Neill turned to look at Mitchell and gave him a conspirative wink. Carter and Teal'c nodded.

"So, welcome to the gang, Cam," O'Neill told him.

So, it wasn't just him. They welcomed him to the family, too.


Daniel slept soundly for the first time since they'd gotten out. No nightmares. No walls.

He knew that if he'd open his eyes, he'd see the wide night sky, sprinkled with stars, and the trees, continuing in every direction, the forest everywhere around him, full of life, and his friends, his family, right next to him.

They'd tried to say it to him before--he couldn't even count all the times Jack had sat at his bedside and told him that "Everything's going to be all right". Now, he could finally believe it himself.

Everything was all right.


Any comments, reviews, suggestions and random thoughts are very much welcome. Just mail me at veldeia(a)yahoo.com

Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. The characters related to Babylon 5: Crusade, their backstories and the universe are copyrighted by Babylonian Productions and Warner Bros. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. The Dodecagon, the Duodecim, the Veraeda, and what little plot-sort-of-stuff you may or may not have noticed in there are the sole property of the author.

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