Another long silence, then, quietly, "What do you want me to say?  Do you want to hear I'm only hanging on by a thread?  That it's taking every bit of courage I possess just to keep hanging on?  That I can hardly lay down without being assaulted by images so intense I don't want to close my eyes?"  Daniel lifted his head to meet Jack's gaze.  "But then you're intimately aware of that."

"I know how overwhelming this is for Carter, Teal'c and me."  Jack crossed his arms on top of the table and leaned forward.  "It has to be a hell of a lot more overwhelming for you.  For a whole year you didn't have to eat, sleep or take a piss.  And I know damn well eating and sleeping never made it to your top ten list of fun things to do.  That alone has to be frustrating.  Throw in this whole not remembering thing and you've just created Daniel Jackson's personal hell.  Of course you're hanging on by a thread," O'Neill snapped, "any sane human being would be feeling exactly the same.  Why shouldn't you?"

"So what?” Daniel snapped back, vibrating with tension.  “Stop feeling sorry for myself?”

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Feeling sorry for yourself?"

"Fuck you, Jim."  The chair shot back as Daniel surged up to pace angrily.

So they were back to Jim; except there'd been nothing accidental in Daniel's use of it. 

Probably the best thing he could do was sit here and bear the brunt of Daniel's angry silence.  If nothing else, perhaps it would reinforce for his friend he had no intention of backing down or bowing out. 

Jack clicked on his internal time clock.  It took twenty minutes of furious pacing before the archeologist began to wind down.

"Am I?"

O'Neill cocked his head.  "What?"

"Feeling sorry for myself?"

"I don't know.  Are you?"

"You said . . ."

"Whoa, there, space monkey, what I said was any sane human being would be feeling exactly like you are right now.  I thought I was only reiterating the fact that you are human again, and entitled to feel angry, or hurt, or even sorry for yourself."

Daniel ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in spikes.  "I'm sorry."

"No need." 

Jack rose, silently cursing his bad knees, and wandered across the room.  He waited at the top of Daniel's next turn, then fell instep with him.  Bridging the distance between them, he wrapped a hand around the back of Daniel's neck and brought them both to a stop. 

"I need you to listen to me, and I mean really listen, okay?" 

The lean jaw clenched, but Jack received a short, affirmative nod when he squeezed lightly. 

"Carter, Teal'c, and I will do whatever you need us to do to help you hang on.  If all you want us to do is keep tying knots as the rope pays out, that's what we'll do.  Daniel, if you need us to hang on to you by one or both wrists while you're dangling out there, we'll hang on.  If you need us to hang on to you by a foot, we'll hang on.  And if you go over, we all go together and we'll reassess at the bottom.  The one thing we're not going to do . . ." Jack cleared his suddenly very dry throat.  "The one thing we're not going to do," he repeated with conviction, "is let you go again." 

He watched Daniel swallow convulsively. 

"And now I need you to tell me you're hearing what I'm saying."

"I hear you, Jack.  But you don't understand."  Daniel closed his eyes, blocking out the face so close to his own.  "I don't know what I'm capable of at the moment, much less down the road."

"I'll tell you what you're capable of," Jack responded matter-of-factly.  "You're capable of anything you set your mind to and I know because I've watched you do it time and time again.  Set a problem in front of Daniel Jackson and he will eventually solve it, almost always with a win-win scenario.  When we first met, you were a little like this.  A little unsure of your place - a little unsure what was expected of you - a little unsure if you even wanted to be here.  But you eventually grew into the knowledge that this was where you belonged - with Carter and Teal'c and me.  If it doesn't come back any other way, you’ll eventually grow into that knowledge again.  Trust me, Daniel; I know what makes you tick - better than you do right now.  In the meantime, will you let us be there for you?"

"I'm tired."

"I know.  You're reeling with exhaustion.  But that's not an answer to my question."

"I don't know!"  Daniel smacked both hands to his aching head and pressed hard.  "I just don't know if I can."

"All right,” Jack replied quietly, backing off, “just know we’re hear if you need us.  Now, how about you come back and lie down.  I won't make you sleep," he coaxed, when Daniel planted his feet and refused to budge.  "Just come and lie down. I don't know if my knees can take hauling you up off the floor if you pass out on me."

Very reluctantly, Daniel let himself be induced to lie down again, but before his head touched the pillow he was shivering convulsively. 

"I can't do this," he said miserably, curling into a ball.  He could feel the hysteria rising almost as quickly as it had in the dream.

"Do what?"  Jack, feeling like a heartless moron, kept a firm hand on the trembling shoulder.

The archeologist bolted up, despite the detaining hand, as the Colonel tried to draw the covers over him. 

"No!" he panicked, scrambling frantically for the side of the bed, bare feet smacking the floor as he folded in on himself.  "I can't do this."  He could barely draw breath into his searing lungs.

"Daniel!"  Jack commanded.  "Look at me!"  He thudded to his knees in front of the younger man, grabbing him by the shoulders.  "Open your eyes right now," he snapped, forcibly yanking Daniel up and giving him a hard shake.  "Breathe with me!  In . . ." O'Neill pulled air slowly into his lungs.  "Out. . .” He let it out slowly.  "Look at me!"  Jack shook him again.  "Dammit, Daniel!  Breathe!  In . . . Out . . . Come on, come on!  This isn’t a one time deal; you’ve got to keep it up!  In . . . Out . . . In . . . Out . . ."

Bracing his elbows on his knees, Daniel dropped his head wearily.  "Sorry," he ground out. 

Slumping further over, he found himself leaning against Jack's shoulder, but could work up neither the energy nor the inclination to straighten up.

Jack lightly massaged the exposed nape.  "No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.  I didn't understand what you were trying to tell me.  Relax, I won't make that mistake again . . . just relax and breathe.  Concentrate on breathing until it doesn't hurt anymore . . . relax, Daniel." 

There was an ache in his own chest where that vulnerable old organ he occasionally acknowledged as his heart was lodged.  He ran his hand lightly up and down the bowed spine before returning to massage the tense neck muscles.

It was a long time before the shivering began to lessen and Daniel's breathing finally evened out.  A deep, almost convulsive sigh and Jack could feel him beginning to slide toward oblivion.  As much as he didn't want to disturb the archeologist, his knees were too old to take much more abuse.  Cautiously, he raised one off the floor, flexing his foot.

"Danny?"  Jack curved a hand around Daniel's nape again, squeezing lightly.  "We gotta come up with a better arrangement here.  I'm going to blow a knee any minute now."

"Sorry," Daniel mumbled, shifting back.  "Sorry, Jack."

He scrubbed both hands through his hair and over his face, trying desperately to wake up.

Jack, thankful the room was dimly lit, gritted his teeth as he turned, sat down so he was leaning back against the bed, and stretched out his other knee.  He didn't realize he was grinding his teeth until he felt Daniel touch his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said again, anxiously.

"Don't worry about it.  Come down here." O'Neill patted the floor beside him.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Daniel," Jack sighed.  "You want me to make it an order?"

Daniel slid down beside him, a little warily, so they were shoulder to shoulder, both leaning back against the bed.

Visions of Netu, Jack thought.  "I really need to sleep, and I'm not leaving you here alone,” he said aloud, stretching up to flick off the lamp.  "I don't bite, at least not hard, like Carter.  And I'm an experienced nightmare chaser, used to do it for Charlie all the time."

An unnatural stillness momentarily possessed Daniel.  Jack was asking for his trust again.  This time it was a case of show, don't tell. 

"Who's Charlie?"  His eyes slid closed of their own volition.

"Charlie was my son," Jack said quietly.  "Go to sleep, Daniel.  I'll keep watch."

*           *           *

"Hey.  What ya doing?"  Jack strolled into the strangely uncluttered office without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Don't you ever knock?" the linguist inquired irritably, ripping off the piece of paper he'd been furiously scribbling on. 

It was methodically crumpled and tossed over his shoulder to join a dozen companions on the floor.

"Your door was open," O'Neill pointed out.  "You didn't use to expect us to knock when your door was open - before."

"Well I'd appreciate it now.  What do you want?" 

Jack had night duty.  Usually Sam or Teal'c came to get him for lunch.

"I drew the short straw today."  Jack eyed the paper wads on the floor.  "It's lunch time.  I'm in no hurry though, if you're not ready." 

He scooped up several and tried an experimental overhand toss at the waste basket on the far wall, sinking three in a row, before missing a fourth. 

"Shucks, broke my perfect record." 

Glancing over the linguist's shoulder, he noted a transcribed sheet of English lying next to what looked like a Goa'uld stone tablet. 

"Trouble with the artifact SG-3 brought back?"

Daniel had taken off his glasses, folded his arms on the desk, and dropped his head down on his arms.  "No."

"What then?"

"Nothing."  He straightened and pushed the legal pad away, drawing forward the tablet, knowing perfectly well Jack had no way of recognizing the translation had long since been completed.  "It's coming along."

"You need a different book?  I think there's still some of your stuff in storage here." 

O'Neill glanced around the office, realizing with a start there wasn't a single book open on the counter or the desk.  Come to think of it, he didn't remember seeing a book open anywhere since they'd moved Jonas out of the office and Daniel back in. 

Previously, the linguist had translated with at least six dozen stacks of towering books covering every available space.  Somehow, he had perfected the miraculous ability to pull the exact book he needed out of any pile without ever disturbing its architectural stability. 

Jack turned in a circle, frowning.  "What happened to all your books?"

"What books?"

"Your library?  Your reference books?  You know, everything you need to know about ancient civilizations that you can't get on CDROM? Or did it come out on DVD while you were . . . gone?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about and I wish you guys would quit tap dancing around the issue of my being gone."  Daniel sighed.  "Look, I'm not hungry.  I'm not going to lunch today."

O'Neill scooped up several more wadded up missiles and lobbed them one at a time. 

"Too bad." 

Four more perfect shots pinged into the standard Air Force issue metal trash can.

"Too bad what?" Daniel echoed on another sigh.

"Too bad you're not hungry, because you're going to lunch anyway.  See, that's another comfortable old routine I'm not going to let you fall back into."

"I don't have any comfortable old routines."

"At least not that you remember," Jack corrected.  "But there are plenty we remember and we're not going to let you fall back into the bad ones.”  His gaze wandered over at least three half empty cups of coffee. 

Daniel tracked it automatically.

"And do I need to remind you again caffeine is not a food group?"

"I'm not going to lunch today."  The team linguist hunched over the translation, crossing out the perfectly translated last line and scribbling some gibberish that had nothing to do with the tablet.

Jack bent and picked up the remaining balls of paper; however, instead of pitching them all in the trash, he lined them up in a neat row on the end of the counter. 

"What's wrong?"  He picked up one and tossed it from hand to hand a couple of times.

"Nothing."

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

An eyebrow went up.  "If nothing's wrong why are you refusing to come to lunch?"  O'Neill launched two more paper wads and began to juggle.

Daniel looked across at the Colonel.  "I'm not a two-year-old that needs to be passed off to the next grown-up." 

Actually he felt a little like a new pet everyone was afraid to leave alone too long for fear he might not be completely house broken.

"You're pissed because I said I drew the short straw."

Daniel shrugged.  "I don't give a damn who drew the short straw.  I would have said the same thing if it'd been Sam or Teal'c.  I'm tired, I don't feel good, and I don't want to eat.  More significantly, skipping lunch one day doesn't make it a habit." 

He scrubbed a hand across his eyes with weary resignation.  He knew he was going to lunch, but perhaps he could get his point across.

Instead of answering, O'Neill caught all his paper balls.  Returning two to the counter, he began to un-crinkle the one he'd kept. 

It was snatched from his hand before he could get it open, along with the remaining crumpled balls lined up in front of him. 

Two seconds later all four were slam dunked into the trash can and Daniel was reaching for his jacket.

"Daniel?"  What the hell was that about?  Jack tilted his head.

"Jack?"  Can't you just leave it alone?

The cadence of their names felt so familiar.   Why could he remember every vowel and consonant in Goa'uld, not to mention the dozen or so dead languages he seemed able to translate with ease, and yet could not place this man's face in any context? 

Daniel sighed again.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" Jack voiced his thought.

"Nothing.  You win, I'll go to lunch."

The Colonel shrugged.  "I’m not going to make you go to lunch."  He swung around and headed back to the door.  "Carter and Teal'c will be down here in about five minutes, though, if I show up without you." 

Which was true, especially today.

Daniel hesitated.  As much as he wanted to assert his independence, he sensed the hurt he'd unintentionally inflicted and shrank from it.  Life had been so much simpler on Vis Uban.  Why hadn't he just stayed there?  And what was it about this man in particular that so got under his skin? 

"All right, I'm coming."  He patted his jacket pockets, looking for his key card, found it in the back pocket of his pants and slid it through the reader to lock the door behind him.”

"So, what's the deal?" he inquired, making an attempt at conversation as they got on the elevator.  "Is the General going to let me out in the field any time soon?"

Jack turned his head to look at the younger man.  "He's left it up to me," he said levelly.

"So?"

"As the team's C.O., I'm responsible for everyone's safety."

"So,” Daniel repeated, “you're still assessing how much of a risk I'll be."

"Partly."  Jack returned the faintly defiant look with another raised eyebrow.  "As much as I want to get you off-world again, I don't think you're ready.  There are some things we need to work out."

Daniel looked away.  "Well, at least we're clear on that."

"What aren't we clear on, Daniel?"

The archeologist slumped against the side of the elevator and closed his eyes.  There were so many things he wasn't clear on he had no idea where to begin. 

So he didn't try.

Jack watched him struggling with emotions still extremely close to the surface and offered an out. 

"So, I'm curious."  He crossed his feet, then his arms, as he leaned back casually against the elevator wall.  "How've you been translating stuff without all your books?"

Daniel shrugged.  "Everything's been fairly simple they've brought back?"  He hadn’t stopped to question it, merely been thankful that he could still do something useful.  "Speaking of books, how do I go about getting stuff out of storage?"

"Let's see, we've been through this before.  I think we went to Systems Engineering.  They found it and hauled it back up to your office."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, yeah, keep forgetting you don't remember.  Few years back an alien thingy wanted something out of your brain, so he gave Carter, Teal'c, and me memories of your death, and took you to an underwater grotto where he probed your memory for some text you'd read on Babylon clear back in college.  Although, come to think of it, college wasn't really that far behind you then."

"And you packed away my stuff?"

"We thought you were dead."

"So, how did you figure out I wasn't?"

"Wasn't what?"

"Dead?"

O'Neill scrunched up his face.  "Ask Carter.  Frankly, I don't remember."

He remembered perfectly well, thank you very much.  Carter had agreed to do the cluck like a dog, bark like a chicken hypnosis thing, to which he'd strongly objected.  In the end, though, he'd been very thankful she'd been willing, since it had confirmed all their uneasy feelings that Daniel really wasn't dead.

"You remember the alien thingy wanted some obscure Babylonian text and you can't remember how you figured out I wasn't dead?"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Daniel, it was years ago."  Jack led the way off the elevator, grabbing a fistful of jacket when the kid went right instead of left.  "I remembered we have to go to Systems Engineering to get your stuff back, isn't that good enough?"

"Oh, absolutely," Daniel intoned darkly.

"Look, we'll go right after lunch," Jack offered.  "Maybe it will un-snag your translation."

Daniel said nothing, swallowing his sigh.  He reached for the door to the Mess, wondering if he remembered incorrectly that it was usually open - and stopped short on the threshold.

"Welcome home, Daniel!" two hundred-plus voices chorused enthusiastically, as two hundred-plus grinning faces turned to greet him, including Major Samantha Carter and the Jaffa, Teal'c, his other baby-sitters, both of whom were standing just inside the doors.

Instinctively he backed up, only to be stopped by Jack's hand between his shoulder blades.

"Told you keeping it a surprise was a bad idea, Carter.  Come on, Daniel, snap out of it," O'Neill ordered sharply, keeping his voice low.  "I guarantee if you panic at the sight of old friends, I'm not taking you out to meet and greet with any new aliens."

"That's different," Daniel snapped back, fighting an overwhelming sense of dread.  "I'm not expected to know anybody, or anything, we meet off world."  He looked over his shoulder at the Colonel.  “Am I?"

"You are not expected to know anyone here, Danieljackson.”  Teal'c raised an eyebrow.  "These individuals understand your memory has been taken from you.  However, they are pleased to have you home again.  Will you not give them the opportunity to express their pleasure in your return?"

Jaw clenched tight, Daniel eyed the towering alien.  "Not like this.  I can't . . . I don't . . . I . . .”

It seemed like panic awaited him at every turn.  Everywhere he went people greeted him by name, wanted to touch him, wanted to walk him to his next destination, or follow him, even into the bathroom.  He rarely left his office unless accompanied by another member of SG-1. 

The 6'4" Jaffa gravely bowed his head.  "Then O'Neill will inform them you are as yet too fragile to accept the simple tokens of esteem your friends wish to share with you at this time."

Jack gave Teal'c a grin and a thumbs-up. 

Teal'c acknowledged with another raised eyebrow, causing Daniel to jerk his head around to look at Jack, who, of course, raised his own eyebrows. 

"What?" Jack inquired, feigning innocence.

"I hate surprises."

"Well, not usually, but I did try to talk them out of this one.  I thought we should have warned you.  Not to worry, I can tell everybody -"

"No," Daniel shuddered, "don't do that."

"Daniel," Sam patted his arm, "it's okay if you don't want to do this.  We just thought it might be fun to throw an impromptu welcome home party."

Jack, his hand still in the middle of Daniel's back, felt the 8.0 rector scale tremor. 

"Seriously, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.  I'll just tell everybody this isn't a good time." 

He was unsurprised to see the archeologist visibly pull himself together and squelch the rising panic.

"No," Daniel sighed, squaring his shoulders.  "I guess I can do this."

Jack exchanged quick glances with his other teammates and made a forward motion with his hand.  "Well, then," he grinned, "after you, you're the man of the hour here."

"It's no big deal, Daniel, honest.  Come on."  Sam slipped a hand under his elbow and drew him forward.  "Janet thought pictures might help jog your memory, so yesterday we asked everybody to bring in any pictures they had with you in them." 

She pulled him along toward the nearest table and though he went reluctantly, he at least went. 

Jack shambled along behind, keeping his face admirably straight. 

Teal'c took their six.

The Jaffa eventually went in search of a box for the envelopes and small gifts being handed to Daniel as he was deluged with affectionate well wishes at every table.  Many of the items he was given were things of his own he had no memory of - small artifacts and relics he'd had in his office that had been bequeathed by the remainder of SG-1 after his 'death'.

Daniel stilled instantly when a simple, primitive bowl was thrust into his hands.  He was unaware the laughing, chattering mass of people around him quieted as well, watching as the long, sensitive fingers stroked the shape of the bowl.

"Sha’re," he murmured, engulfed by a vision of laughing loveliness throwing her arms around him.  "Sha’re," he repeated so quietly it sounded like a whispered prayer. 

He put a hand out instinctively and both Jack and Teal'c snatched at him; Jack grabbed a handful of jacket, Teal'c, his elbow. 

Sam took his hand.

"Daniel?"

He blinked - and lost the vision.  Blinked again - and found himself surrounded, with people pressing in on every side.

"This bowl was from your wedding, Daniel."  Sam slipped both hands over his so he didn’t drop the fragile artifact.  "You and Sha’re shared an Abydonian marriage ritual with this bowl."

Daniel slowly raised his eyes to Sam's.  "Sha’re," he said again, briefly closing his eyes. 

The smile he produced was a little shaky, but he turned, withdrawing his hand from Sam's, to reach out to . . . for a moment he couldn't remember who had just handed him the bowl and then the name leapt to the forefront of his mind. 

"Thank you, Caroline, for keeping this, and for returning it."

Caroline Dukane took his hand between her own, smiling beneficently on him.  "It's so wonderful to have you back, Daniel.  When will you be taking over the responsibility for the Archeology Department again, dear?"

"I have no idea what they're going to do with me.  I'm not even certain they've decided to keep me yet."  The smile he returned reached all the way to his eyes, the first genuine smile he'd managed since walking through the Mess doors.

"Oh, we're going to keep you," Jack intoned, loosening the hand in Daniel's jacket when it became apparent he wasn’t about to take a nose dive.  "You're over the restrictions, you know.  We don't have to throw you back, so we figured we'd keep you for awhile longer."

"Well, just so you know," Caroline told Daniel, giving the Colonel’s fishing metaphor the attention it deserved, "I've already informed General Hammond, now that you're back, it's your headache again.  How did you manage all of us?"

"Hey!"  Jack jumped back in.  "You can't dump that on him yet!  At least let him get his bearings before you inundate him."

"Of course, dear.  I can hold out for another few days . . . probably."  Caroline's smile twitched suspiciously.  "But I expect at least half your back pay for putting up with all those dreadful people you left me with while you were gone."

Since a number of those dreadful people were seated at the table SG-1 was currently visiting, there was general merriment all around.  Sam had told him as they'd approached, everyone at this table had worked for him; that in fact, he'd been instrumental in hiring all but Jonas Quinn, who was seated with this group of people.

The Linguistics Department, which he'd also hired and been in charge of, occupied the next table.  There was much good-natured ribaldry passing back and forth between the two tables and a bit of competition for Daniel's attention. 

Since he’d worked closely with both departments there were lots of pictures between these two groups, both of whom had put together elaborate posters.

"Holy Hannah!" Sam exclaimed, snatching up the Linguistics poster.  "Who has these originals?  I want copies!  Siler!" 

She glanced around quickly for the Sergeant whom they'd discovered had an innate talent for photography.

He appeared at her elbow almost as though he'd ringed down beside her. 

"Major?"

"Siler, I need copies of these pictures.  Whose are they?" she asked again, taking time to look around the table.  "And how did you manage to keep them out of circulation?"

"They're mine, Major."  Captain Celin Ward, at the end of the table, waved her hand gleefully.

Sam glanced at Daniel as he came to stand behind her. 

"Holy Hannah is right!" he echoed, blushing to the tips of his ears.  "Who let me out of the house dressed like that?"

In the center of a poster with a collage of pictures of Daniel, was an 8X10 taken at the Women's Auxiliary Benefit immediately following the 9/11 tragedy.  Instead of their usual charity auction, a couple of General’s wives had enlisted the support of General Hammond in setting up a Bachelor Auction, which he had virtually ordered Jack and Daniel to participate in.

"I didn't know any of our crew had taken pictures!"  Sam dramatically pressed a hand to her chest.  "Oh, be still, my heart.  Captain, seriously, how could you have kept these to yourself all this time?"

"Actually, I kind of lost the roll of film.  Somebody took it out of the camera before I realized it and it must have gotten tossed in the back of a drawer.  These pictures showed up when I took a bunch of old rolls of film to be developed last week.  I picked them up just before we got Dr. Jackson back."

In the picture Daniel was wearing a snug pair of faded jeans, strategically ripped over the left knee and just under the right front pocket.  Janet Frasier had speculated those jeans hadn't seen the light of day since his last university archeological dig.  The jeans had been paired with a white tank top, and he had a leather bomber jacket slung over his shoulder. 

The photographer had caught him just as he turned on the runway, so the long, lean length of his body was in profile, and he was looking down, smiling at someone in the audience.  The picture captured a side of Daniel that only rarely came out to play; the flirtatious, absolutely gorgeous man, whose wicked sense of humor was, more often than not, shrouded by the darkness that stalked him mercilessly.

"And barefoot," Sam moaned, patting her chest again.  "Oh, be still my heart,” she repeated.  “Have you got pictures of the Colonel too?"

"Oh, yes!  Shall I put together another poster for you, Major?"

"That's okay, just loan me the negatives."

"Sure, I brought them to work this morning.  I expected there to be a huge demand for reprints."

"Siler, I want reprints of everything the Captain has.  By the way, you are going to post this somewhere aren't you?"  Sam held the poster at arm's length.  "Like on the bulletin board outside the door here?"

"Sam!”  It was Daniel's turn to moan.  "Not the bulletin board."

"Give it up, D.J., they're way out of your league," Jack advised, finding himself a seat. 

They were going to have trouble dragging Carter away from this table. 

"T, my man, you might want to find someplace to plant yourself.  I suspect we're going to be here for awhile."

By the time SG-1 sat down at their own table, plates piled with food from half a dozen cultures and at least as many different planets, Daniel had gone from panicked to overwhelmed.

"Well?"  Jack inquired, trying something that looked like a fruit and tasted like a vegetable.  "Aren't you glad I dragged you down here?"  He discreetly rearranged his plate to shove whatever it was off to the side.

"I think I might have just had an important revelation."  Daniel put his fork down, but said no more, just sat looking at his plate.

"Yeah?  . . . So are you going to share?”  Jack speared something that looked interesting on Daniel's plate.

"I'm not hungry, take whatever you want."

"I meant the revelation," the Colonel responded dryly.

Daniel pushed his plate away and raised his head slowly. "They didn't take away 'what' I am, just 'who' I am."

Jack looked at him blankly. 

Sam reached across the table to lay a hand over Daniel's. 

Teal'c cleared his throat

And Daniel pulled his hand out from under Sam's to put it in his lap.

"I don't get it. Your memory's gone.  What's that got to do with what or who?"

"Back in my office, Jack, you asked me about books.  Did I used to use a lot of reference materials to do translating?"

"Well, yeah, there were always a ton of books piled on your desk.  Carter, wasn't Quinn using Daniel's books?"

"I don't need them."

Sam got it immediately. 

Daniel saw the calculating look in her eyes and knew she was evaluating the evidence.

"Because . . .?"  Subtlety had never been Jack's forte'.

"Danieljackson, are you saying you can now translate without your reference material?"

"So far I've had no trouble translating any of it.  I can't say I've had a wide range of stuff.  Some Samarian cuneiform, that Goa'uld tablet, a few pieces of pottery I'm pretty sure are early Phoenician, and a couple of texts in Egyptian hieroglyphs.  Maybe they were just simple translations, I don’t know.  But it’s pretty clear they left 'what' I was, and took away 'who' I am.  I don't recognize the person in any of those pictures."

"Hey, look on the bright side - at least they left you something."

"Right, everything but my identity."

A stretched-out moment of silence descended over the table until Jack smacked a hand down.  "Enough whining, this is a party!  Carter, did you bring our welcome back present?"

As if out of thin air, Carter produced a small, brightly-wrapped box, completely covered by a huge bow.  "Right here, sir."

"How'd it come out?"

"Great, perfectly legible." 

Sam set the box in front of Daniel, who glanced around the table at his covertly grinning teammates.

"Legible?" the linguist inquired, curious what could possibly fit in a box so small and still have writing on it.

"Go on," Sam urged.  "Open it."

Daniel picked it up and turned it over, causing a dull clanking sound to emit from the box.  He glanced around again, not entirely trusting the amusement on the faces surrounding him. 

Gingerly, he pulled apart the separately wrapped pieces of the box, reaching to catch the silver metal chain and attached dog tags that fell out. 

Again, he glanced quizzically at the now openly grinning countenances.

"You should probably read them."  Jack motioned to the tags.

Daniel turned one over.  "My name is Dr. Daniel Jackson," he read aloud.  "If found, please return me to this Gate address." 

The symbols for Earth's Stargate had been minutely embossed on the metal plate.  It took a few seconds to decipher the rest of the miniscule print. 

"Additional reward if returned in good condition."  He studied the tag silently through a long pause.  "I take it this has some meaning for you that escapes me?"

For just a moment, as he looked up inquiringly, the smiling faces took on the macabre features of grinning ghouls.

It was Teal'c who offered with quiet seriousness, "We have had some difficulty keeping track of you, Danieljackson."

"Very diplomatic, Teal'c.  What he's trying to say -"

"I am attempting to utter nothing other than what I expressed, O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted firmly.

"Okay, fine.  What he's not saying is you were a pain in the ass to keep track of and usually when we lost you, we'd get you back in a whole lot worse shape."

"Why?"

"Why?" Jack repeated incredulously.  "Because you don't follow orders, that's why!  You wander off, don't pay attention to anything but what's calling you, can't keep your cotton-pickin’ hands off things, and you just plain attract trouble like a universal magnet.  Half the other teams refuse to even take you out with them," Jack accused, only half joking.

"That's not fair, sir.  They only refused to take Daniel after you threatened bodily harm to anyone who brought him home injured," Major Carter pointed out.

"Yeah, well?  He belongs to us.  We need him whole.  It was a reasonable . . . stipulation."

"Yes, sir, just pointing out it wasn’t Daniel's fault some of the other teams didn't want to . . . play with him, sir."

O'Neill shrugged.  "So, I'm a little possessive, does that make me a bad person?"

"To be honest, Daniel, we're all a little possessive," Sam admitted.  "And it's likely to be worse now that you're back.  SG-1 wasn't the same without you. We really missed you."

What could he say?  Certainly not the standard, 'I missed you too'.  He had no idea if he'd missed them or not. 

Daniel was suddenly overwhelmingly tired.

"It was an inside joke," Jack offered, scooping up the dog tags.  "Sorry.  We probably should have thought this through a little more."

Dr. Jackson held out his hand.  "How come I don't have real ones?"

Eyeing him, the Colonel handed back the chain and tags.  “Because you're not military.  They require you to carry ID identifying you as a civilian.  In fact, the Air Force probably wouldn't allow you to wear these if you wanted to."

True to character, Daniel slid them over his head with a rueful grin.  It was an instinctive response that returned the smiles to his teammate’s faces. 

"Why?" he asked again.

"Better wear them under your t-shirt," Sam advised.

"Because the rules are different for prisoner's-of-war," Jack responded matter-of-factly.  "Civilized countries don't torture identified civilians attached to the military.  Of course, we haven't been at war lately with any civilized countries."

"Didn't the Geneva Convention kind of put a damper on torturing anybody?"

"Geneva Convention?" Jack inquired airily.  "What's that?"

"General Hammond."  Major Carter rose automatically, as did the Colonel.

"At ease, SG-1."

"Grab a chair, sir; we've got plenty of room."  Jack scooted his chair closer to Teal'c as they resumed their seats.

The General did, surprisingly, pull up a chair. 

He rarely had the opportunity, inside the Mountain, to spend down time with his premier team.  But as most of the Cheyenne Complex personnel were in the Mess at the moment, with only emergency staff manning the base, he had decided he could probably get away with adding an official welcome back without causing an international crisis among the teams. 

Daniel Jackson had been much esteemed by the entire Cheyenne staff, including the Russians. 

"Dr. Jackson," he stretched his arm across the table to shake hands. "I just want to say again how absolutely delighted we are to have you back."

"Thanks, General."

"Daniel was just telling us he's had an important revelation, sir."  Jack steered the conversation discreetly away from their little 'inside' joke.

"Oh?"  General Hammond intercepted the look Dr. Jackson shot at the Colonel.  "What is it, son?"

"Well, sir, it only just occurred to me as we were looking at all the pictures.”  Daniel made a concerted effort not to clench his teeth.  "I'm an archeologist - without a past."

Even Jack got that one.  The brown eyes widened, then closed briefly.  "Ah, geez, Daniel, maybe it will come back."

"And maybe not," Daniel rasped softly.

Silence again descended heavily over the table.

"Sorry, I'm late.  SG-9 held me up."  Doctor Frasier pulled a chair up to the table too.  "Hey, I thought this was a welcome home party, not a wake! What's wrong?" 

Her bright, inquisitive gaze shifted briefly from person to person around the table, coming to rest on Daniel. 

This time they all waited for him to answer.

"Nothing new.  Just having it hammered in I don't even remember my own name." 

Though Daniel forced brightness into his voice, the C.M.O. clearly heard his distress.  She also saw it mirrored on the rest of the faces around the table. 

"You've haven't even been back a week, Daniel," she reminded gently.  "That's hardly long enough to get any coping mechanisms in place.  Can you give it some time?" she asked, rather than ordered. 

She was close enough to touch him, but held back, knowing he would withdraw as discreetly as he could.

Though he remained hunched over the table, Daniel did raise his eyes.  "That's easier said than done." 

Intellectually he understood very well what she was trying to tell him. 

Just as Dr. Frasier understood that right now he was so emotionally battered, patience was a minute to minute ordeal he must try to endure.  Janet made a mental note to suggest to the rest of his team their patience with Daniel needed to extend as far as they could possibly stretch it. 

"Well, you know where to find me if you just need a friend to talk to."

"Thanks, Dr. Frasier."  Daniel saw the quick flash of hurt in her eyes and swallowed another sigh.  "Thank you, Janet," he amended, trying hard not to be frustrated with everyone’s expectation of instant intimacy.

On his other side, Sam spoke up.  "Give it a month and I guarantee you'll know all these people by name again, Daniel.  Its part of what you are," she emphasized.  "It will come naturally, you won't even have to work at it."

"That's true, son," the General chimed in, pushing back his chair.  "As traumatic as this experience has been, you're back with family now.  Whatever you need, we're here for you.  It's what family does."

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, again, sir."  Daniel replied as naturally as possible, though his jaw ached with the effort to keep from gritting his teeth.

All he wanted now was the privacy of his office, or better yet, the VIP suite assigned to him.  Somewhere quiet with nothing more stimulating than the CD player in the background and the backs of his eyelids to contemplate. 

Not that he had any intention of sleeping. 

He closed his eyes briefly and subsequently missed the speaking glance that passed between Jack and the base physician.

"Sir," Janet smiled at Daniel as she turned to the General, "do you have any objections if I order SG-1 to take the rest of the afternoon off?  I think Daniel's probably had all the stimulation he needs for the day."

Jack perked up immediately.  "Great idea, it's about time you get off the base.  And I don't mean just for the afternoon.   I think you should move back into your old room until you're ready to find your own place again.  Being here 24/7 can't be good for you. Besides, if you go home with me every night, you can't be sneaking back to your office after everybody's gone."

"What?"  Janet demanded.  "You better not be!"

"Not to worry, Doc, this is the perfect fix."

"I'll leave you people to work this out.  Dr. Jackson, you're welcome to stay on base as long as you like.  Don't let the Colonel badger you into anything you're not ready for. Colonel, Major, Teal'c, Doctor." 

The General inclined his head briefly and left in a hurry.

"Jack," Daniel began, agitation increasing proportionate to the pressure being applied.

O'Neill raised a finger.  "Aht!  I can have the C.M.O. make it an order."

"As you just reminded me, I'm not military."

"Yeah, but she still has sway when it comes to medical issues on base.  Hammond will make you follow her orders."

"I'm not going to make him do anything he doesn't want to, Colonel.  Well," Dr. Frasier corrected herself, "at least not under these circumstances.  However, I do think it would be a good idea for you to get off base, Daniel."

"Okay.  So, I'm willing to give the illusion of choice."  Jack leaned back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance.  "I guarantee the bed's better at my house, although I do have to admit we get better satellite reception here.  But, I get way more channels; most of them aren't even fuzzy.  The food's far better at my place.  And we can watch hockey practically all night long."

"Sounds to good to be true," Sam smiled.

"Indeed," Teal'c intoned. "It would be our pleasure to assist you in moving your belongings to O'Neill's, Danieljackson."

They all looked at him - waiting, expectant. 

He thought again how difficult it was that everyone just expected instant intimacy.  It wasn't that they were doing it on purpose, it was just natural for them, and so, in their minds it obviously should be natural for him, too. 

Except for Daniel, it was disconcerting and uncomfortable. 

What he knew about these people could fit in a thimble and if he'd ever had any internal compass to help judge character, it no longer showed true north.  He did not trust his own judgment. 

He had tried to explain, had used all the right words, even set it in a framework they should have been able to understand, but it had been like talking to walls.  The only person who even remotely got it was Dr. Frasier. 

Intellectually, he understood it was as difficult for the rest of them as it was for him, merely on opposite ends of the scale.  Emotionally, it was incredibly draining to be constantly fending off their casual need to touch, and talk, and stare.

Sooner or later he was going to have to sort this out and steel himself to face the answers to questions he had only vague reasons for not wanting to ask.

In the meantime, he was positive the source of his recurring nightmare was firmly rooted right here in the SGC, probably in the infirmary.  Perhaps going to Jack's would short circuit the loop, or at the very least distance him from whatever horror pursed him through these halls.

"Okay."

"Okay!"  Jack repeated, grinning.  "Knew you'd see it my way, I just expected it to take longer.  Come on," he slid back from the table, cursing his bad knees out loud.  "Let's go see about getting your stuff out of storage.  And by the way, I have a lot of your personal stuff at my place too."

Janet laid a hand on Jack's arm.  "Can you do it without Daniel, Colonel?  I'd really like to check him out one more time before you take him off base."

"Uhhh . . . okay."  Jack exchanged another look with the petite physician.  "Yeah, sure, I can do that.  You will let him go with us, though, right, Doc?"

"Oh, I expect so.  I won't even keep him long.  Come on, Daniel.  I promise not to make you take your clothes off this time."

"Hey," Sam poked him with an elbow, "that's got to be a first.  Janet never lets you keep your clothes on."

"I believe, Majorcarter, you are purposely agitating your pseudo-sibling.  As O'Neill would say, knock it off."  The Jaffa turned toward the Colonel.  "Do you require my assistance, O'Neill?"

"Thanks, Teal'c."  Jack smirked.  "As a matter of fact, no; why don't you keep Daniel company?  Carter, I'm sure you have things to shut down and turn off in your lab, why don't you close up shop and we'll meet in Daniel's office in . . . what?"  O'Neill turned to Janet.  "You going to take longer than half an hour?"

"No.  I don't expect it to take that long."

"Alrighty, then, meet back at Daniel's office no later than 14:30 hours.  We can scavenge his on-base quarters, too, if there’s anything he wants to take with us."

"Should we synchronize our watches, Colonel?" Carter inquired, just managing to keep a straight face.

"Absolutely," the Colonel responded, checking his watch.  "I have 13 . . . 45, mark."

"You're fast, sir."

"You betcha, Carter," O'Neill winked.  "See you shortly."

"Janet, before you go you've got to see the poster the Linguistics Department put together."

"O'Neill, you should take this box to Danieljackson's office with you." 

Teal'c swung the box up one-handed, shoving it at Jack, who just caught it – with both hands and a huff at the weight.

"What the heck did they put in here?  Naquada?  She doesn't have time, Carter.  Besides, what's she need pictures for?  She's got the real thing." O'Neill shooed everyone off.  "Go, go, go!  You can look at pictures later."

An hour ago, Daniel would have been resentful of Jack again assigning him a baby-sitter; however, he was glad for Teal'c's unassuming company, even if the man rarely spoke. 

He'd spent more hours than he cared to remember in the infirmary on his arrival back on Earth, enduring, he was certain, every last test known to the medical community, plus a few, he was also certain, Frasier had made up on the spur of the moment. 

The experience had been anything but pleasant. 

He did not think it was just that, though, that had his feet dragging as they headed to the infirmary.

"So what's in the box," Janet asked, glancing at the small box Daniel was fidgeting with as the trio made their way down several elevator stops to the infirmary.

"Uhm," Daniel stalled, unsure who was allowed to be 'in' on the inside joke. 

He followed Janet off the elevator, glanced back at Teal'c, and received a slight inclination of the head. 

"Well, Sam, Jack and Teal'c seemed to think I needed tagging." 

He stopped abruptly as an image of a relatively young, wide-eyed child formed in his mind.  A child with the name 'Daniel' neatly printed in crayon on a tag hung around his neck with bright blue yarn.  Someone had said the yarn matched his eyes.  It had not, however, matched him up with a family. 

Daniel shook his head, reaching to steady himself with a hand on the wall.

"Are you unwell, Danieljackson?"  Teal'c reached to steady him too, lightly grasping his elbow.

"Daniel?”  Janet turned back but did not touch him.

The archeologist shook his head again and the haunting image vanished. 

"I'm okay."  He pulled the tags out of his t-shirt, and over his head, handing them shyly to Janet.  "This is what was in the box."

An involuntary smile lit her expressive brown eyes as she read the inscription.  "So, she found someone to do it." 

Janet ushered them into the infirmary, pointed Daniel to a bed, where he perched on the edge, Teal'c to a chair, where he sat back at his ease, and drew the curtainto give an illusion of privacy. 

"Sam told me she was trying to find someone to do the Gate address inscription.  Good job.”  Her smile widened as she handed them back.  "Don't go away, I'll be right back.  I just need a couple of things."

"Things?"  Daniel repeated, frowning.  "Needle kind of things?"

"We'll see," the doctor replied, disappearing around the curtain.

"So, Teal'c," Daniel began, nervously running the long chain back and forth through his fingers.  "I don't know much about you.  From what I've observed you live on base, alone.  Jack told me he's divorced.  Sam's single.  What about you?  Ever been married?"

Teal'c inclined his head.  "I am widowed, Danieljackson, and I have a son.  He is called Ry'ac."

The blue eyes widened considerably.  "Oh.  I had no idea.  I just thought . . ."

"Because I am here, fighting with the Tau'ri, I had no family."

"Well, yes."

"You have no need to feel embarrassed, Danieljackson.  It was a logical assumption." 

Daniel glanced down at his fidgeting hands, then back up at Teal'c.  "So, do you get to . . . uh . . . see him . . . ever?  Your son, I mean."

"Not as often as I wish, but yes, I am able to visit them now.  Ry'ac lives with my old teacher, Master Bra'tac.  Together they are working to free more Jaffa.  They do not have a permanent abode."

"Oh," Daniel said again, his gaze returning to the chain running back and forth between his fingers.  "So you're a widower too?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, but said only, "I am."

"Did you remember that you're a widower, Daniel?"  Janet slipped back inside the curtain.  "Relax," she added, as his shoulders instantly tensed.  "I'm just checking to see if your glands are swollen." 

Her cool fingers sliding behind his ears had him tensing again.

"No," he admitted, "I read it in my file.  Are you going to lecture me, too, about going into my own file?"

The hands at his throat stilled momentarily as she looked him in the eye.  

"Nope.  I've learned it's useless to lecture you after the fact.  It just goes in one ear and out the other."  Janet smiled, touching his ear lightly.  "As if there was nothing in between to stop it.  Have you been taking the allergy medication I gave you?  Is this uncomfortable?" 

She pressed lightly just under the back of his jaw again.

"It doesn't feel good."  He shrugged.  "You said I probably wouldn't need it in the Mountain.  It made me sleepy."

"And have you had trouble with sneezing and itchy eyes?"  Janet peeled back an eyelid and flashed her penlight, noting the bloodshot sclera.

"Only a little, in my office, when I stir up too much dust."

"I'll give you something else, but I want you to take it every day.  If you wait until you go outside you don't build up any immunity.  Trust me on this, Daniel, I know.  I have to deal with this, too." 

The doc held up a hand when he would have protested. 

"If it makes you sleepy, we'll keep trying until we find one that doesn't.  There are several allergy medications and they all have different side effects.  Now, open up, I want to look at your throat.  Kinda sore, huh?"

"A little," Daniel admitted reluctantly.

"Sinuses draining?"

"Some."

"Daniel!"  Janet drew back, smacking his knee exasperatedly.  "There's no reason for this.  How long?"

He ducked his head.  "Just a couple of days."

"You've barely been back a couple of days.  It didn't occur to you to come and see me?"

"It crossed my mind."  He looked up without raising his head.  It was the patented 'Daniel' look.

It also garnered the usual smile, albeit a rueful one.  That look got to her every time. 

"Could have saved yourself a couple of days of feeling lousy," Dr. Frasier informed him tartly, making a diligent effort to wipe the smile from her face.

"At what cost?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

She smiled again and touched his chin.  "Some pills?"

"Well, that was stupid, huh?"

"Ya think?  I'm just going to take your temperature.  Turn your head." 

Daniel complied, flinching slightly as the thermo scan beeped in his ear. 

Dr. Frasier checked it quickly and slid it back in her pocket, placing both hands on his BDU clad knees. 

"You're definitely running a temp, which is to be expected since you're well on the way to a full-blown sinus infection.  Some aspirin will help alleviate that general achy feeling you're probably experiencing.  And I'm going to put you on antibiotics as well.  I'll give you a new antihistamine, too, and I want you to take it before you leave the Mountain, okay?  Today might not be such a great day to figure out if this one works better than the other, so try it for a couple of days, but don't hesitate to call or come down if it just isn't working for you.  Okay?" she said again.  "A response would be appropriate here, you know."

"Oh, okay," he agreed quickly.  "Sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, unless it's ducking coming to see me.  Daniel, you're going to be out of your clothes more than you are in, around me, so you'd probably better get used to the idea." 

She sighed when his cheeks flushed and his eyes dropped again. 

"I'm sorry, it's the nature of the beast and I know the Colonel’s explained to you that you have to undergo both pre and post mission exams.  Now," she said briskly, crossing her arms over her chest.  "Why aren't you sleeping?  Are you taking the sleeping pills I gave you?  Never mind, stupid question.  You do realize they are supposed to make you sleepy?"

"Uhm . . . not sleeping?"

Janet touched the pad of her finger to the dark circles accentuating the blue, blue eyes.

part 3

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