Jack grunted in response to Major Wendover's encouragement. He sure as hell didn't think he was doing very well. He couldn't even walk around the damn house on his own, but Wendover insisted that he begin to walk through the rooms with her, getting reacquainted with his surroundings. The physical therapists insisted he didn't need the walker any longer but he still wasn't able to manage a long distance without getting fatigued. She'd brought him a cane the other day, having him test it for length and giving him a beginning lesson on how to use it. He'd walked the length of the living room before fatigue set in and he'd had to sit down on the sofa to rest. The cane was going to have to wait until Jack was steadier on his feet. For now, he had to rely on getting through the halls of the SGC holding onto Daniel's arm or, more frequently, Major Wendover's.

Muttering under his breath as he counted his steps, Jack reached the end of the kitchen.

"Where are you, Colonel O'Neill?" Wendover asked, another one of her tests.

"Door," Jack answered. He stood still, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on his face. He placed his palm flat on the glass, his heart aching.

"…outside, sir?" Wendover's voice floated to him and Jack pulled himself out of his maudlin thoughts to focus on her words.

"Sir?" She spoke again. "I asked if you would like to go outside."

His heart started pounding at the thought of venturing into his backyard. He'd been outside of course while walking to the car to go to the SGC and his therapy sessions, but outside in the expanse of his yard, in the alien world it had become, he wasn't so sure. But still, the sun felt nice. He wasn't even sure of the season and was ashamed to ask because he should be able to figure it out. Jack took a deep breath and wiped his hand on his pants. "Yeah, Wendover. I would." He turned to face her as he spoke and brought a hand up to his face to check his glasses. He kept them on all the time, not wanting others to see his eyes.

"Open the door,  Colonel," Wendover said standing close beside him, ready to assist if he needed it but he found the latch without much difficulty and slid the door open. He fumbled as he searched for Wendover's arm and gripped it tightly when he found it.

It was breezy and warm. Jack stopped when they stood on the deck. He put out a hand to the side, hunting for the picnic table and sighed when he touched the rough surface.

"Would you like to sit for awhile, sir, or should we go into the yard?"

He was, no scratch that, he had been a colonel in the United States Air Force, Special Ops. He'd faced Goa'uld and not batted an eye and here he was afraid of his own backyard, damn it. Jack clenched his hand into a fist. "Yard," he whispered, unable to find enough spit to make his voice louder.

They took a few steps and his hand was placed on the railing.

"Nice and slow, Colonel," Wendover said as she took the first step. Jack felt for the riser with his foot, using all his concentration to navigate the few steps that led down to the grass. But it wasn't enough.

He shouldn't have taken it for granted, Jack cursed at himself. He should have known he wouldn't manage to walk in the yard without screwing up. Jack pushed himself up and licked his lips, tasting blood from where his tooth had scraped his lip and grass from where his face had impacted with the ground. He waved his hand in the air, searching for Wendover's arm. Her hands came around his arm, his waist and helped him regain his feet.

"I want to go back inside." Jack bit out the words.

"Colonel," her voice held a warning note.

"I said inside." Jack could feel his hands shaking. "Inside now."

"Yes sir." She began leading him back to the house. Jack kept his head down, something Wendover usually chided him for.

Falling on the grass like a little kid. Jack concentrated on counting steps and breathing. They made it back inside the kitchen and Jack felt alarm when Wendover stepped away from him.

"Let's go into the living room, sir. I'd like to talk to you."

"Your arm." Jack reached out.

"You can make it, sir. I'll be right by your side, but you can make it." Wendover sounded surer of his abilities than Jack felt.

He took one step towards the living room and wondered if he could live on the couch for the rest of his life.

Stretched out on the sofa a short time later, Jack pulled the afghan down over his legs, not wanting Wendover to see how they were trembling.

"Sir, I know this is extremely difficult for you."

"You do? You blind, Wendover?"

"I'm not. You know that. But I want you to know you are going to fall, sir. You are going to fall again and going to walk into things and probably scream in frustration. And that's okay. You have a right to be angry. But don't give up, sir. You are making tremendous progress. You are getting stronger every day. You had a long PT session this morning. Fatigue can affect your concentration, sir."

"Wendover?" Jack rubbed at his forehead.

"Yes sir?"

"Just tell me the truth. Tell me that I'm going to learn to live with this." Jack hoped he was looking at her face.

"I can't, sir. You need to make that decision for yourself." She was silent a long time after her statement.

"It's so damn hard." Jack closed his eyes in fatigue.

"Yes, sir, it is."

"What time you coming tomorrow, Major?" Jack massaged his thigh, the muscles aching. "No PT, remember? Maybe my concentration will be better then."

"Oh eight hundred, sir." There was the sound of Wendover gathering her purse and other supplies. "I'll see you then."

Jack nodded and listened as she closed the door behind her. He pressed the button on his watch relieved to find it would only be a half hour until Daniel got home. Maybe they could order take-out for supper. He thought there might be a play-off game tonight. Tired beyond belief, Jack closed his eyes, dreaming of Daniel in the sunlight.

"He shoots, he scores!" The announcer's voice rang with excitement as Daniel peered at the group of players assembled around the net.

"Who made the goal?" Jack demanded, squirming against Daniel as the over-excited announcer woke him up. Jack leaned blindly towards the television set. "Damn it Daniel, who scored?"

"Um, I'm not sure," Daniel replied, trying to remember who had last had control of the puck. His attention had wandered for a little while as Jack had fallen asleep but the cries of the announcer had woken Jack and reminded Daniel that he was supposed to be helping Jack 'see' the hockey game.

"Which team scored? Come one, give me a hand here."

"I think it was number sixty," Daniel supplied helpfully.

"Theodore? For crying out loud, he's the Canadian's goaltender." Jack relaxed once more against Daniel's chest as the announcer gave the credit for the goal to the Avalanche's Defenseman 'Smith', number six. Daniel kissed the top of Jack's head in apology.

"Sorry, it just happened too fast."

"Hmph," Jack snorted, his attention already on the impending face off.

Daniel sighed. It was bad enough to have to sit through a hockey game with Jack demanding what was happening every few seconds, as if he couldn't listen to the announcer's play by play. But Daniel kept dozing off alongside Jack and could never seem to catch up with the game fast enough to satisfy Jack.

The two of them were lying on the couch with Jack comfortably ensconced between Daniel's legs. Daniel reached for a couple of potato chips from the bag lying on Jack's chest, feeding one to his lover before eating his own. He looked at the clock on the left of the screen, noting that there were only a few more minutes remaining in the third period. He reached for more chips and a soft snore from Jack indicated that he'd dropped off once more.

Good, maybe he'll sleep through the next several minutes and allow the game to end without Daniel having to bring him up to date between his little catnaps. Daniel smiled happily, glad to feel the familiar weight as they lay in their favorite positions on the couch.

Daniel watched the game without any real interest, marveling at how the referee and linesmen could easily jump out of the way of the fast-moving puck. He wondered how they could keep track of it there on the ice when he could barely do so from a bird's eye view. Bored, he closed his eyes and let the droning voice lull him to sleep.

"What? What's happening now?" Jack demanded as the noise level suddenly increased. Mentally cursing himself for not having lowered the volume, Daniel opened his eyes and looked at the TV screen.

"They're not playing," Daniel sighed. "They're fighting."

"A fight? Who started it? Who hit who? How many?"

"I don't know, Jack, they're all over the ice." And they were; a dozen players from both teams were going at it all in various spots on the rink with other team members trying to break the fighters up and then getting caught up in the melee themselves. Gloves, helmets, and even jerseys littered the ice as men bared knuckles and rid themselves of their accumulated aggressions.

"Damn it," Jack groused, levering himself off of Daniel and sitting up, forcing Daniel to move over to give Jack room for his legs. The bag of chips fell off his chest and scattered bits of the yellow snack all over the couch and floor. Daniel sighed at the mess but kept his mouth shut.

Jack was leaning forward, elbows balanced on knees, head cocked to the side as he listened attentively. Daniel wondered why the fans reacted so passionately to the violence. It was like the old joke, 'I was watching a fight, then a hockey game started'.

"I think someone swung their hockey stick at someone else," Daniel supplied.

"High sticking?" Jack asked over his shoulder.

"Um, yeah, I think so. Or maybe it was tripping?"

"Shhhh."

"Oh, they're picking up their stuff and one of the guys is being physically pushed back into the penalty box," Daniel said. "He's mouthing off like there's no tomorrow."

"Who is it?"

"Um… number eleven?" Daniel couldn't quite make out the number on the player's jersey as it was bunched up around his ribs.

"Koivu? It can't be Koivu, he's not playing tonight. Is it Nikolishin?"

"Um, no, that's not the name that's on the jersey."

"Well, what name do you see? What color's the jersey?" Jack asked irritably as he leaned back against the couch in frustration, then perking up again as the penalty was announced to Battaglia for high sticking.

"Eleven? Daniel, how the hell could you mistake eleven for forty four?"

Daniel squinted at the screen and at the close up of the sweaty player sitting in the penalty box, happily squirting water into his mouth. Daniel could definitely see a forty four on his jersey now that he'd pulled it back down into place.

"Sorry," Daniel apologized once more. "At least the game's nearly over," he added.

"Huh? How can it be almost over? How many more minutes left?"

"We're talking seconds here, Jack. Like in thirty two."

"What? But we're in the second period, right?" Jack said as the crowd went wild and began counting down along with the clock.

"No, third. You slept through part of the game, remember?"

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn… ah shit, it's over," he complained as the siren went off and the counter reached zero. "The Montreal Canadians won, didn't they?"

Daniel nodded, then remembered that Jack couldn't see him. "Yes, they did. But the Colorado Avalanche put up a pretty good game." He clicked the television off, the silence feeling strange for a few seconds.

Daniel pulled Jack back into their original position on the couch. He smiled as Jack slid callused hands over his arms. Jack settled back with Daniel's arms pulled around his abdomen.

"This is nice," Jack said with a sigh as he twined his fingers in Daniel's.

"Yeah." Daniel yawned, then realized he had to finish the translations he'd brought home and which he'd abandoned when Jack had asked him to sit through the hockey game with him. He wanted to groan, realizing he had a good two or three hours' more work before heading for bed. Jack was half asleep in his arms. Damn. He needed to try and convince Jack to go to bed now so Daniel could finish his work without interruptions. He'd be nearly finished now if he'd worked instead of lying here with Jack for the past two and a half hours.

"Come on, Jack, let's get you to bed," Daniel said as he sat up, pulling Jack's body into a seated position.

"Mmmp," Jack complained, followed by a yawn.

Daniel stood up then helped Jack stand. With his arm wrapped around Jack's waist, he led the unsteady man into their bedroom.

"I want a bath," Jack stated, turning towards the bathroom.

Daniel sighed. He really wanted Jack in bed and sleeping so he could get his work finished and then get some sleep himself.

"You're tired, Jack," Daniel said. "Why not wait until tomorrow?"

"I want to soak, my legs hurt," Jack grumped.

"Shit, why didn't you say so?" Daniel said worriedly, thoughts of his work totally forgotten as he sat Jack down on the side of their bed. "Do you need your pills?"

Jack had had a very difficult PT session late this afternoon which was one of the reasons why Jack had been so tired this evening. He hadn't thought that Jack had been in pain but he should have known better.

"No, they're just achy. Nothing a hot soak won't help with." As Jack stripped his sweatshirt from his back, Daniel went to run the water for the bath. He returned and helped Jack stand and remove his pants.

He looked at Jack's naked body a moment noting that, although he was still too thin, his body was beginning to fill out a bit. His legs were still shriveled-looking but the muscle tone had improved two hundred fold since he'd come home. His ankles were nearly in their proper alignment and, although he couldn't quite get around on his own, he could manage fairly well around the house with Daniel's help.

Daniel took a few minutes to massage Jack's legs and Jack's groans told him that his ministrations were helping. He helped Jack into the bathroom, then into the tub.

"Don't fall asleep," Daniel cautioned as Jack closed his eyes, knowing that his words were falling on deaf ears.

"Mmmm hmmm," Jack replied with a smile as he relaxed in the hot water.

"I'll be back in a little while, okay? I just need to go take care of a few things," Daniel said. Jack waved him away so Daniel went back into the living room and cleaned up the spilled chips. He put the empty cans of soft drinks into the recycling bin and prepared a pot of coffee for later.

Figuring Jack had soaked long enough, Daniel went back to the bathroom.

"Jack, wake up," Daniel said, putting a hand on Jack's warm, wet shoulder.

Jack's reaction was totally unexpected. He began flailing and splashing in the tub, interspersing grunts and yells. Water flew everywhere as Jack slipped, unable to find purchase.

"Jack! Jack! Calm down!" Daniel yelled, trying to grab Jack before he hurt himself on the ceramic tub. Finally Daniel managed to put his hands under Jack's shoulders and heaved him out of the tub, both of them falling onto the carpeted bathroom floor.

Jack stopped struggling once he was out of the water and Daniel held Jack's shaking body close to him. "It's okay, it's okay," Daniel crooned, realizing that Jack had woken up totally disoriented. He should have known better than to let Jack fall asleep somewhere unfamiliar at this point.

"Danny?" Jack whispered against Daniel's neck.

"Yeah. You all right?" He pulled back to look at Jack, who nodded at Daniel's question. Daniel grabbed the towel he'd put aside earlier and wrapped Jack in it once he'd gotten him seated on the closed toilet seat cover.

"Where are we?" Jack asked in a small voice.

"Bathroom. You fell asleep in the tub," Daniel said as he began drying Jack with the towel.

"Thought I was drowning. I didn't know… sorry."

Daniel stopped and hugged Jack's shivering body close to him. "It's okay. I should have known better to wake you up like that." He rubbed his hands up and down Jack's still-boney back.

"I hate this, Daniel. I hate not being able to…"

"Shhh, it's okay, you're doing so much better. You're just tired. Remember, the doctors said it would take a while."

Jack took a deep breath. "I know."

Daniel finished drying him off and then helped him back to the bedroom. Jack was quiet and compliant, something which worried Daniel a bit as he bundled him up into his sweats and had him slide under the covers.

"You're not coming?" Jack asked softly as Daniel sat down beside him. Actually that was exactly what Daniel wanted to do… slide in beside Jack and go to sleep, but he had to go finish the translation.

"In a little while," Daniel replied as he leaned forward and nuzzled Jack's neck. "I have some work to finish, remember?" He felt Jack nod and he kissed the warm skin beneath him. "Go to sleep. I won't be long," Daniel lied.

He felt Jack relax beneath him and Daniel ignored the ache in his back from the awkward position, waiting for Jack to fall asleep before getting up. He showered a few more kisses before lying his head against Jack's shoulder, listening to him breathe. Daniel now had to go clean the bathroom before hitting the translations. He took a few deep breaths, his fingers unconsciously playing with the metallic chain looped around his fingers, trying to recharge himself for the work that was awaiting him. He sat up when Jack was breathing deeply and looked at his lover a moment, the sight of him relaxed and comfortable was going to have to sustain Daniel through the next few hours.

The translations ended up taking longer than he'd expected and Daniel slipped into bed with a raging headache. The coffee hadn't done a great job in keeping him alert and he'd had to struggle to finish the last few pages. He'd taken some Tylenol but the pills hadn't done much to relieve the headache and the burning pain in his neck and shoulders.

Daniel tensed his shoulders and then relaxed them, trying to ease the tightness. Taking a deep breath he turned onto his side facing his lover. Jack had his back to Daniel. Daniel slipped closer to Jack so they were just touching.

"What time is it?" Jack asked.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Daniel replied, laying a kiss on Jack's nape and trying to circumvent the question.

"No, I heard you in the bathroom. What time is it?" he repeated as he turned to face Daniel. "The last time I checked it was after one."

"It's after two," Daniel admitted, but not revealing that it was closer to three than two.

"Daniel," Jack said in a chastising voice. Instead of answering, Daniel simply snuggled against Jack. He was beginning to relax, his work for the day finished, and the man he loved was lying beside him. He listened to Jack breathing; God how he'd missed that sound. He shifted slightly in the bed, making himself comfortable. He knew he'd be asleep in just a minute…

"They dumped me in a room full of water," Jack suddenly said in a whisper. Daniel dragged himself from the edge of sleep and suddenly his heart began to pound when he realized what Jack was saying.

"They tied me up and threw me in a room full of water. For three days, with my hands tied behind my back, I had to stay awake or else I'd drown. The room was dark and circular, there was no place to sit or lie down and the water came up nearly to my armpits."

Jack pulled away from Daniel, turning onto his back. "Twice I fell asleep despite my best efforts."

"So when you woke up in the tub earlier tonight…"

"I thought for a moment I was back in that room."

"God, Jack. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you go to sleep there—"

"How the hell were you supposed to know? Besides, I knew full well when I got into that bathtub that I'd be asleep in no time, I just never expected that kind of flashback. I guess it won't be the last time either."

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. The words felt inadequate and Daniel blinked back tears. As happy as he was to have Jack back with him, he wished once again that he'd been able to convince General Hammond to allow him to return to the planet where they had believed Jack to have died. Maybe there he would have found a clue indicating that Jack was still alive and where he'd been sent. He felt he could have prevented all of Jack's pain.

Jack's hand fumbled against Daniel's cheek then gently moved up to his eyes. A finger unerringly wiped his eyelids before the hand moved to the back of his head. Gentle pressure pulled Daniel forward and he relaxed, allowing his head to fall against Jack's chest.

"Don't," Jack simply said. Daniel nodded, knowing Jack knew Daniel felt guilty for everything. They hadn't really talked about it. Maybe they would soon if Jack was beginning to feel he could now confide in Daniel.

"Sergeant Siler said he thinks he'll be able to finish the repairs in my lab by Tuesday," Carter concluded her tale of woe. Jack was sitting close enough to Daniel to hear a low chuckle from him before he said in a serious tone, "I'm sorry to hear that, Sam. But at least no one was hurt."

Carter's sigh was loud. "No, at least no one was hurt."

"Jack?" Daniel moved closer, his hand touching Jack's arm. "Do you want some more chicken?"

Jack shook his head. He was tired. The others didn't understand how much effort it took to listen to all their voices, trying to figure out if the words were said in jest or seriousness while attempting to put the food in his mouth without spilling it all over his front. He hated this. Hated that he was a grown man and Daniel had to cut his meat for him because he hadn't learned how yet. Hated that he had to feel for food on his plate because sometimes he just didn't know where the hell it was. Jack moved his hands away from his plate and rested them on his thighs, curling them into tight fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, the pain telling him he was still alive. Chairs scraped back and footsteps sounded on the kitchen floor.

"I will take your plate, O'Neill," Teal'c offered. Jack nodded and listened to the clatter of silverware as it was placed in the dishwasher. The cleaning up went on around him while he sat useless. He wondered just why it was the universe had decreed Jack O'Neill should be found. He couldn’t help thinking it might have been best for all concerned if Daniel had never wanted to walk through the market on Hannara.

Carter was wrapping up the leftovers and she was standing close enough that he could smell her perfume over the herbs Daniel always insisted on putting on chicken. Jack lifted his hand reaching towards the sound of crinkling aluminum foil. His fingers brushed against her hand and he closed his fingers around her wrist needing to ground himself by touching someone, something.

"Sir?"

He could feel her pulse, strong, steady.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Carter sounded confused. "Do you need something? Do you want help?"

Jack shook his head and dropped his hand away. "Sorry, Carter." He ducked his head. His face felt hot.

"Jack?" He should have known Carter's questions would bring Daniel to his side. If he leaned back, Daniel's hand would be pressed between the chair and his shoulder blades. "You okay?"

"Fine." Jack shifted and felt Daniel's hand resting warm and heavy on his back. "Just tired."

"Let's go into the living room," Daniel moved his hand down Jack's arm, helping him to stand. Jack kept a hand on the back of the chair until he felt stronger. Daniel was slightly in front of him and his arm bumped Jack's.

"No." Jack pushed it away, feeling angry. "I can do it myself.'" He was a grown man; he'd lived in the house for close to 8 years. He was capable of finding his own way to his living room. It had been one of his first lessons at home with Major Wendover, rediscovering his surroundings, building a new mental map of the alien landscape that used to be his home. He was glad Daniel hadn't been there wanting to help, allowing Jack to lean on him. He was glad Daniel hadn't been there to hear his screams at Wendover when he couldn't find the damn bathroom even though he knew exactly where it was. The house was now familiar. He knew how many steps it was from the sofa to the steps, from the bed to the closet, from the kitchen to the recliner, and all other variations and permutations of any possible place he wanted to visit in the confines of his home. Major Wendover had already warned him they were venturing into the neighborhood on Monday. Jack hadn't told Daniel. He knew Wendover kept Daniel informed; gave Daniel his own sort of training of how to be a guide for Jack. But so far he'd managed to keep her away from allowing Daniel to be in any of his other training.

Seventeen steps, Jack knew. Seventeen with a step down on the sixth. Jack began counting under his breath, aware of Daniel just behind him. Thank God Carter and Teal'c had already gone to the living room. He thought they'd gone to the living room. God he hoped they weren't behind him, watching his slow progress. He wondered if he'd begged Teal'c to kill him those first days he'd lain helpless in the infirmary if the Jaffa would have complied, a coup de grace to a fallen comrade. Damn, Jack bit his lip. All his mental meandering and now he didn't know where he was.

"Five," Daniel said behind him. "You're about to take five."

Jack nodded, unable to say thanks, anger at his failure swelling for a moment before he started to count again.

Safe and sound. Jack sighed as he felt the couch a few minutes later and sat on the cushions. There was a squeak as Daniel sat down beside him.

"Sir?" Carter sounded nervous, unsure of herself. "I wasn't sure if you'd like these," there was a sound of something plastic sliding on the coffee table, "but I thought maybe you'd like some audio books."

Only his team knew how much he loved to read and Jack was strangely touched by Carter's consideration. "Thank you." Jack rubbed at his forehead. "Sorry, I'm not being the best of company."

"DoctorFraiser informed us you should not become overly fatigued, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "This day has been stressful for you."

Daniel slid his hand up to rub Jack's neck, a daring move considering that Carter and Teal'c were there. "Do you want some aspirin?"

"Nah." Jack shook his head, hating the sound of concern in Daniel's voice. "Okay. I'm okay." Daniel tightened his hand slightly and Jack leaned his head back into it. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch.

Carter launched into a tale about Major Quentin's woes with his new car and Jack let her voice wash over him, not willing to make the effort to pay attention any longer. Daniel had started a fire in the fireplace and Jack enjoyed the heat from it. On Hannara his master, Roshail, enjoyed keeping his slaves in the cold and dark. He used to dream of fires. Jack shivered at the remembered cold and the afghan from the back of the couch gently covered his legs. He coughed as he swallowed wrong and fear lanced through him. What if he was getting sick again? What if he lost the use of his legs for good? He was losing himself again. His heart began pounding and his mouth went dry.

Daniel moved closer as if he sensed Jack's distress and Jack relaxed as he caught the scent of Daniel's hair. He was home, he was safe. Hannara was far away and he didn't need to ever go back there again.  The sounds of his friends' voices filled the room, grounding him once more. He tuned into them again, noting the nuances in Carter's voice. He could hear her smiling and could imagine Teal'c's expression as he offered a comment. Daniel put in his two cents and Jack couldn't hold back a grin.

'What do you think, sir?" Carter asked.

Jack straightened from his slouch. He shifted trying to judge Carter's position. "Sorry. Wasn't paying attention," he admitted. His stomach growled. Jack put his hand over it. Mealtimes were stressful but he often was hungry when he went away from the table. "Excuse me, but I need to go to the kitchen."

"Jack?" Daniel patted Jack's thigh under the blanket. "What do you need? I'll get it." The springs on the sofa squeaked as Daniel moved to get up.

"No," Jack ordered. "I can do it myself. Just gonna get a snack." This was the first time Daniel had to really relax since Jack had come home. He wasn't going to ruin Daniel's fun by pulling him away from their friends.

"Okay," Daniel said slowly. "But you call me if you need…"

"I can do it, Daniel," Jack said again, more forcefully. He rose and stood for a moment mentally preparing himself for the journey to the kitchen.

Jack breathed out a loud sigh when he reached the safety of the kitchen counter. His fingers crept along the surface, searching for the bread box where Daniel had placed the leftover French bread. Jack smiled as he managed to open it and pull out the loaf. He wasn't about to try cutting the bread without supervision; he knew he was tired and his concentration was waning for the evening, but luckily he could tear a hunk of bread off the end and dip it in the peanut butter jar.  He was just reaching for the peanut butter, third cupboard from the sink, lowest shelf, when there was a sound of rushing water and a whirring noise. Jack dropped to his knees.

The street cleaning machines were beginning their nightly cleaning of the market. He was so hungry, he'd found the loaf of bread and tonight no one was going to get it from him. Jack began crawling from the approaching machines, cursing his legs' weakness. He'd lost track of his surroundings, unsure of where he was. But he could hear voices not too far away, plotting to take his meager meal. On the streets it was every man for himself and Jack was determined to stay alive as long as he could, until this illness abated. He found a corner and huddled into it where no one would see him in the dark night.

"How's he doing, Daniel?" Sam asked a few minutes after Jack left the room.  Daniel looked at his friends and saw not pity but concern.

"He's," Daniel rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses and searched for the right word, "adjusting." He finally settled on that, hating the word and the finality it held. Much as he loved Sam and Teal'c there were some things he couldn't share with them, like the fact that Jack woke up most nights shaking and calling out in fear, or that Jack had to struggle with the most basic of tasks as he learned to live without his sight. It wasn't his right to share; it was up to Jack. But Jack had come so far in the weeks since he'd come home. Jack was walking on his own and regaining his strength. He was able to eat without help and was studying Braille on a daily basis. Jack had come so far. Granted he still had a long way to go, but Daniel knew the tremendous effort Jack put forth every day.

"O'Neill is a warrior, DanielJackson. He will be victorious in his battle," Teal'c said. Daniel looked at him, surprised by the admission. Of the three of them, he believed Teal'c struggled with Jack's new disability least. In the eyes of the Jaffa a wounded warrior was a dead one, but it shouldn't surprise him he supposed. Teal'c wasn't an ordinary Jaffa.

"Yes he will, Teal'c." Of that, Daniel had no doubt. He'd lost Jack once; he wasn't willing to let him go without a fight now.

Sam stood up, gathering the cups on the coffee table. "I'll take these out to the kitchen for you, Daniel. It's getting pretty late and I think  Teal'c and I should be going. The colonel looked like he's getting tired."

"I can get them later, Sam." Daniel stood up too. He turned his head to yawn into his shoulder.

She shook her head. "My purse is in the kitchen. I'll put these in the sink, okay?"

"Thanks." He smiled at her and at Teal'c. "I'm glad you both came over. I think Jack thinks folks are forgetting him."

"We will arrange another visit, DanielJackson," Teal'c said. "And we will not forget O'Neill."

"No, Teal'c. I know you won't." Daniel smiled, grateful for Sam's and Teal'c's support, needing it as much now as he had those dark months when they believed Jack was dead.

"Sir?" Sam's voice floated to them from the kitchen, an almost strangled sound. Daniel was across the living room in a few steps nearly colliding with Sam as she backed out of the kitchen door.

"Sam?" Daniel could barely speak, his heart pounding, afraid she was going to tell him Jack was dead.

"Daniel, he…" Sam looked up at him, her eyes tear-filled. "He…I don't think he knows…sorry…"

"Teal'c?" Daniel looked at his friend who nodded and reached out to take Sam from him. He went past her into the kitchen and felt his heart sink as he took in the sight before him.

Jack was curled up in a corner of the kitchen, wedged between the stove and the refrigerator. He had a half loaf of French bread in his hands and was tearing it with his teeth, eating it as if he was starving.

"Jack?" Daniel whispered then realized Jack wouldn't hear him. He moved a little closer, crouching down just out of arm's reach. "Jack? You know where you are?"

"Stay away," Jack shouted. "Mine." He pulled the bread closer to his chest. "Mine." Jack reached out with one hand, pushing at invisible enemies.

"I know, Jack." Daniel kept his voice low, hoping he could break through to Jack but fearing he wouldn't be able to. "I don’t want to take it. I want to help you. Let's get you up off the floor." He moved closer, hands outstretched.

"Mine," Jack yelled. He kicked out with a foot, luckily missing Daniel's ribs.

Daniel retreated a few feet, unable to figure out what had triggered the flashback. He looked around the kitchen, then cursed under his breath for his stupidity. It wasn't going to be a visual trigger. He closed his eyes and listened, unable to hear anything but the dishwasher. It was worth a shot, he decided.

"Teal'c, turn off the dishwasher." Daniel pointed and nodded his thanks when the sound stopped. He inched closer to Jack. "Jack? It's me, Daniel. You're home, remember? Home." He could see Jack was trembling and was trying to hide the loaf of bread under his shirt. "We really need to get you up off the floor. Doctor Fraiser would have a fit." He doubted Jack was processing the words he was saying but his voice seemed to be having a somewhat calming effect. He was close enough to touch Jack's ankle and wondered if doing so would be wise. He decided not to, remembering a few nights ago when he'd touched Jack without warning while they listened to a hockey game on the radio.

"Jack, I'm right here. You're home. There's plenty of food, you don't need to worry," Daniel continued, watching as Jack's trembling lessened and the curled up body began to relax.

"Daniel?" Jack asked, his voice cracking. "Daniel?"

"Yeah, it's me, Jack." Daniel spoke softly, hoping Jack was finally back with them. "Jack, I'm going to touch you, okay?" He waited for a quick nod and then gently touched Jack's ankle, rubbing his hand up Jack's shin. "Can you give me the bread? Let me help you up?"

"Bread?" Jack sounded confused. He pushed away from his corner. "Daniel? Where are we?" He held out a hand and waved it in the air.

Daniel caught it, not surprised to feel it was icy. "We're at home, Jack. In the kitchen." Daniel rubbed the hand between his own. "Here, let me help you up." Daniel stood and reached down to give Jack a hand. He held onto his lover as Jack tried to regain his footing.

"Bread, Daniel?" Jack pulled the loaf away from his body. "Daniel?" His voice held a hint of panic.

"Shh," Daniel soothed. "You just had a bit of a flashback. It's gonna be okay."

"No, I don't remember. Daniel, I don't remember coming in here." Jack was growing agitated.

"Daniel, we'd better go," Sam said from close behind him.

Shaking his head, Jack moved away from Daniel, sliding his hand along the refrigerator until he found the counter. He braced himself against it.

"Go, Sam. I'll call you tomorrow. But just go." Daniel didn't take his eyes off Jack wanting Sam and Teal'c gone, knowing Jack would be humiliated knowing they'd seen him in this state. He waited until he heard the front door close before he moved again.

"No, I should remember," Jack was muttering. "I should, Daniel."

"You're tired, Jack." Daniel stepped next to him, wrapping his arms around Jack. "Let's get you up to bed and then we can talk about it some more."

"Daniel." Jack leaned  into him, his breath coming in hot bursts against Daniel's neck.

"Come on, Jack. You can lean on me." Daniel wrapped his arm around Jack's waist, guiding him through the kitchen and up the stairs. Their progress was slow and Jack's steps faltered now and again.

Sighing as he settled Jack on their bed, Daniel knelt down to remove Jack's shoes. He didn't like the passivity Jack was showing but he knew Jack was tired. He toyed with calling Janet, or even Mackenzie, but figured that for now sleep would be the best thing for Jack. He managed to get Jack undressed and tucked under the blankets before shedding his own jeans and sweater. He crawled into bed next to Jack, pulling him close and rubbing his hands on Jack's back.

"I was hungry," Jack whispered. "I was hungry and I never had enough to eat."

Daniel bit his lip, thinking of all the meals he'd eaten while Jack starved. "Tell me about it, Jack. You're safe and you will never be hungry again."

Daniel held Jack in his arms and prepared to stay awake all night if that was what was necessary.

As tired as Daniel was these days, after months of sleeping alone it was taking a bit of getting used to having another body sharing the bed with him. Not that he begrudged the fact that he slept lightly in fear of disturbing Jack or in case Jack needed him during the night. A few months ago he never expected to have the man he loved lying beside him ever again. The sound of Jack's soft snores and his own particular scent tickling his nostrils would lull Daniel to sleep. But the still unfamiliar feel of the too-thin body beneath his hands often jarred him awake. Jack didn't quite *feel* right yet to Daniel's subconscious.

Tonight Daniel drifted off to sleep in Jack's arms for a change, relishing the sensation of having someone holding him, comforting him.

Hot, aching need woke him and he was intensely aware of his penis throbbing beneath Jack's hands. He moaned and raised his hands, roaming down Jack's thinner frame, wanting to reacquaint himself with it. Daniel slipped his hands inside Jack's sweats, discovering Jack's erection and sliding his fingers over it hungrily. Jack arched into Daniel's touch, his hands tightening momentarily over Daniel's cock.

"Feels so good, Jack," Daniel mumbled as Jack's hands stroked him, needing this, wanting this. He slid his fingers down to Jack's balls while his other hand slipped beneath Jack's tee shirt and skittered across his warm skin.

The next thing Daniel knew, Jack was pushing him away.

"Stop!" Jack said loudly. "Please. Don't."

It took Daniel a couple of seconds for his brain to start working and he saw from the dim light coming through the window that Jack had curled onto himself at the far edge of bed. Jack's breath was coming in small gasps and he was almost trembling with tension.

"Jack? Did I hurt you? Are you all right?" He slid forward ignoring the ache in his groin; all concern now was for Jack's well being. He reached a hand but at his touch Jack flinched.

"Why did you… Daniel, I'm not… I… I can't."

"Jack, did I hurt you?" Daniel insisted needing to know what had just happened.

"No, you didn't hurt me," Jack said in a tight voice. "I just didn't expect to wake up and… Daniel… I'm sorry, I'm not ready for… I don't…"

"What're you talking about? I thought this was what you wanted, Jack."

"I'm sorry. I was dreaming. I must have… sorry."

"Must have been a pretty nice dream," Daniel said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, the reality ain't all that hot."

"The reality looks fine to me," Daniel said as he gripped Jack's shoulders and pulled him against his chest, feeling Jack resist him for a moment. He rubbed his hand down Jack's back and the older man relaxed against him. Feeling the warm body against it, Daniel's penis, which had been reminded after months of inattention and denial how good sex with Jack had been, swelled once more despite Daniel's trying to will it not to.

Jack evidently realized what was happening because he rolled away, much to Daniel's regret. "How can you stand to touch me like this?"

"Sorry," Daniel said, feeling embarrassed. Sex between them had always been intense and pleasurable and Jack's inhibitions about his injuries had left Daniel uncomfortable about initiating sex. He had thought that maybe they'd gotten over that hurdle but it appeared like it was not to be. "Do you want me to go sleep in the spare room?"

"NO!" Jack almost shouted, then repeated in a softer voice, "No." He shifted forward again and reached out with his hand until he touched Daniel, then brought his body closer till they were nearly touching. His hand trailed down Daniel's stomach, and paused at his waistband. "I think I started something and I guess I should finish it."

Daniel's stomach muscles fluttered involuntarily at Jack's touch. He grabbed Jack's hand and stopped him from sliding it farther in. He brought Jack's hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

"Jack, no, not like this. Look, I love you, scars, grey hair, skinny butt and all." He heard Jack snort and he smiled. Jack pulled his hand from Daniel and caressed his face, his thumb finding Daniel's lips and tracing them.

"I want to make love to you," Daniel said as he nipped playfully at Jack's thumb, "and I want you to make love to me. I want to feel. I need to feel. But I want you to enjoy this, too. This is about both of us. Let me love you. Let's just go slow, okay?"

Daniel took Jack's silence to mean acquiescence and he leaned forward, tentatively kissing Jack's mouth. After a bit of teasing and nipping on Daniel's part, Jack opened his mouth to Daniel and let him in. The feel and taste of Jack excited Daniel and he had to hold back, not wanting to overwhelm Jack at this point, so he pulled back, breathing hard. He nuzzled Jack's neck, finding his pulse spot and sucking gently. Jack moaned and Daniel raised himself onto his lover, leaning on his elbows. Moonlight streamed into the room, casting a soft glow onto the bed. He could make out Jack's face very clearly, the silver of his hair shining like a beacon.

"I miss seeing your eyes," he said wistfully as he caressed Jack's face.

"They're ugly, Daniel," Jack said, closing them and keeping them shut.

"God, no, they're not. They're a part of you, a part that I love. Even if you can't see me with them anymore, I can look at you and remember how they expressed your love for me. Don't hide them from me. Don't wear your glasses around me? Please?" Daniel lowered his head and kissed both of Jack's closed eyelids. Jack opened his eyes and Daniel took possession of Jack's mouth once more.

As Daniel ran his hand over Jack's ribs, he felt him tense beneath him. Daniel realized that rediscovering Jack's body would have to wait until Jack himself was more comfortable with it. Daniel went straight for the kill, grabbing Jack's penis and stroking the soft skin. Jack gasped loudly, then responded by reaching for Daniel. The few working brain cells that Daniel had wondered at how well Jack knew Daniel's body, marveled at how Jack could touch him so surely, without sight.

Then those few wisps of thoughts flew out of his head as Jack's touch had Daniel thrusting wildly in Jack's grasp, the sound of his lover's pleasure urging him on.

Jack woke up to the sound of Daniel's heavy snores in his ear. He fumbled for his watch on the bedside table and pushed the button. A mechanical voice informed him it was just after six. It was still dark out as Jack couldn't make out any light in the room but the sun would be rising soon.

He sat up and dragged his legs over the side of the bed. Daniel shifted and the snoring stopped. Jack could tell by the nasal quality that Daniel's allergies were acting up. And he'd come to bed very late last night and the night before that so Jack knew that Daniel was tired.

Standing up on stiff legs, Jack tottered a moment before finding his balance in his dark and private hell. He winced as he took several steps on aching, unyielding muscles. By the time he got to the bathroom, he wasn't staggering so much as limping. He emptied his bladder, washed his hands, brushed his teeth, and then performed a few stretching exercises designed to help limber his legs. He usually did these in bed before getting up but he hadn't wanted to wake Daniel.

His stomach gurgled, demanding breakfast. Normally he'd wait for Daniel to get up and make them something to eat but he figured he'd let Daniel sleep in today. Jack made his slow way out of the washroom and towards the chair where he and Daniel normally threw their clothes on at night. He fumbled through the small pile, finding a pair of pants but discarding them when he realized they were Daniel's soft, light cotton pants and not the heavy denim of Jack's jeans.

Something clinked faintly on the floor and he realized something had fallen out of Daniel's pants pocket. He found his jeans and sweatshirt and holding them in one hand, he painfully got onto his knees and felt around for the dropped item, finally touching something cold and metallic.

He picked up the object and ran it through his fingers. It was about six inches of chain with a small piece of metal at one end. The chain and metal quickly warmed in his hands, the feel of it somehow familiar. His questing fingers found raised markings on it and running his forefinger over and over the metal he realized it was the letter ‘O' and part of an ‘N'. Damn, was this part of his dog tags? He'd heard that they had been found and had been part of the reason they had believed him dead. He had thought they'd have been thrown out and he wondered what the hell Daniel was doing with them in his pocket.

Using the dresser for balance, Jack managed to heave himself up and then dress himself. He limped out of the room, Daniel's renewed snores echoing down the enclosed hallway. He headed for the kitchen, using the wall as both guide and balance, the chain tightly clenched in his hand.

He stood in the kitchen's entrance a moment, feeling a little overwhelmed at the thought of trying to make his own meal. He'd done so before a couple of times, but never alone. There had always been someone supervising. But okay, he could do this. He'd been making himself breakfast for over thirty years now. One step at a time, his teacher told him. First step… a plan of action. He stuffed the chain into his jeans pocket and thought about what he wanted to eat.

Jack couldn't remain standing yet for long periods of time so it would have to be something quick. Cereal? Toast? Eggs? He decided on toast and coffee, maybe he'd eat something a little more sustaining with Daniel when his lover got up. Confident he could do this, he began to whistle.

First step; get water into the coffeemaker. He felt along the counter and found it. He picked up the carafe and filled it with water and poured it into the machine. Okay, some of the water didn't quite make it inside but after sticking his finger into the reservoir he decided it was full enough.

Next step; measure out the coffee. After a bit of fumbling, he found the bag of coffee and began measuring out the proper number of spoonfuls. Smiling to himself, he went to turn the machine on when he suddenly realized he'd forgotten the coffee filters.

Swearing, his legs beginning to shake beneath him because he'd been standing too long, Jack impatiently reached for the filters. He got one out and poured the coffee into it and misjudged, feeling the grounds slide over his fingers and onto his bare feet.

"Shit!" he cursed, skimming his hand along the counter and trying to feel how much of the coffee had missed its target. His fingers encountered the spilled water and then the coffee, making a sticky mess on his palm and countertop. Wiping his hand clean of the grits on his jeans, he searched for the bag of coffee again and poured what was left in the filter back into it and began re-measuring the proper amount into the filter. He tried to ignore the grounds under his bare feet and finally got the coffee measured and double-checked everything before turning the machine on. He waited a minute, listening for the sound of the water dripping into the carafe.

Satisfied, now that the coffee was taken care of, he tore off a handful of paper towels and wiped down the counter. He passed his palm over the counter and found he'd missed many of the grounds. He swiped the countertop several times in anger before the pain in his legs forced him to sit. Jack massaged the wasted muscles of his thighs. The day had barely started and he was tired already.

He brushed the soles of his feet on his pant legs to get the irritating coffee grinds off of them. He wanted to clean up his mess on the floor but he knew there was no way he'd be able to accomplish a simple thing like sweeping. How the hell was he going to survive being blind if he could barely make coffee?

Sighing, he sat at the table with his head in his hands, finally rousing when the smell of coffee reached him. He got up, took some bread out of the refrigerator, found the toaster and inserted the bread into it, then proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Proud of himself for not having made another mess, he rummaged in the fridge, searching for the cream. He knocked a few things over in his quest, swearing as a plastic bowl tumbled onto his toes. He felt around the area with his foot but couldn't find the bowl. Giving up, he continued his search for the creamer. Finally he found the container and poured some into his coffee. He misjudged and overfilled the cup.

He wiped his hands dry on the seat of his pants, then reached out for the cup again. He wrapped his fingers around it, holding it steady on the counter. He bent over the cup, bringing his mouth to the overfull brim since picking it up would cause it to spill. Jack noisily sipped the hot brew. Hey, it didn't taste that bad. He smiled; at least he'd been able to accomplish one thing today. After taking several more cautious sips, he carefully groped his way back to the table and sat there, enjoying his hot drink.

Catching the smell of something burning, he realized his toast hadn't popped up. He stood quickly and reached for the toaster, the sudden wail of the smoke detector startling him.

As he moved backwards, Jack stepped onto the errant bowl, losing his balance and his weak muscles gave out. He felt himself falling onto his side with a loud thud.

"Jack!" Daniel's voice sounded panicked as running footsteps came towards him. Jack reached out, feeling the smooth, cold metal of his kitchen table and chairs. As he sat up he felt Daniel's hands on his shoulders, supporting him.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" Daniel was anxiously running his hands over him and Jack irritably batted them away. His hip ached, he suspected he'd be wearing a bruise for a few weeks, but he wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine," he yelled over the din. "Shut that damned thing off, will you?"

"Are you sure? You didn't—"

"Will you stop that?" he said as he pushed Daniel away from him. He felt Daniel stiffen slightly then heard him move away to the counter, presumably to unplug the damned toaster. He heard the sound of doors and windows opening and within a minute the smoke detector had turned itself off as soon as the smoke cleared from the room.

By then Jack had managed to get up and was sitting on the chair when Daniel came back into the kitchen. Thoroughly disheartened, he sat there trying to ignore the throbbing in his hip which was vying with the ache in his legs. He heard Daniel sigh, but Jack was having a bad day and he felt was entitled to mope.

"I'll make you some more toast," Daniel offered.

"Never mind, I'm not hungry now," Jack sulked.

"Jack. Look, here's your coffee." Daniel took his hand and placed it around the still hot mug. "Sit tight and I'll make us some eggs and bacon, okay? Just let me go get dressed." Daniel got up and put a hand to Jack's shoulder. Jack didn't answer but took a sip of the hot drink, listening to Daniel walk back to the bedroom.

He leaned his elbows on the table, totally discouraged. Within fifteen minutes he'd unilaterally managed to make a mess of the kitchen. Coffee and water and whatever he'd tripped over. His leg and foot was damp from where he'd fallen into the spill. It smelled like last night's stew.

Daniel returned and Jack heard him pouring coffee. Daniel's leg brushed against his as he sat down next to Jack.

"I feel so damned helpless, Daniel."

"I know," Daniel said softly, his hand coming up to take Jack's. "We both knew it wasn't going to be easy but look how far you've come."

Jack knew Daniel was right, but he didn't feel like he'd made much progress of late. He was constantly tired; his body, especially his legs, ached all the time, but the worst was the ever-present darkness.

The chair creaked as Daniel shifted his weight and Jack heard him lift his cup and swallow some coffee. As the cup clinked on the table, Daniel stifled a yawn. Guilt spread through Jack as he realized Daniel would still be sleeping if Jack hadn't burned the toast. The thought reinforced the feeling that he was a burden and he couldn't stand Daniel's sympathy. He pushed back his chair and stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Shower."

"Ummm, okay. I'll start cleaning up in here and by the time you're finished breakfast should be ready. Let me go and get the chair for you."

Another added embarrassment. If Jack wanted to shower alone he had to sit like an invalid on a special chair since his legs still couldn't be trusted to hold him on the slippery surface. He nodded and continued towards the bathroom, wishing he'd just stayed in bed that morning.

Daniel rubbed his forehead trying to ease his growing headache as he watched Jack toying with his food. Half his scrambled eggs had fallen off the plate as Jack pulled his fork back and forth through the now congealed mess.

Sipping his coffee, Daniel stared at his own meal also mostly uneaten. Jack's head was bent, his face hidden from Daniel. His shoulders were slumped and Daniel knew that the enthusiasm Jack had experienced the past two days in his accomplishments had flown out the window along with the smoky residue of burnt toast.

Another piece of egg fell onto the table and Jack's sleeve caught it, pushing the bit of food onto the floor to join its brethren. Damn it. Daniel had just swept and washed the kitchen floor, cleaning up Jack's earlier mess. He clenched his fists and held them to his temples, squeezing his head in an attempt to hold back from grabbing Jack's hand to still the frustrating motion.

He'd been woken out of a sound sleep by the sound of the smoke detector. Visions of Jack caught in a burning house swept through him as he rushed out of the bedroom. He'd heard the thud of a falling body as he neared the kitchen and had immediately thought the worse.

It should have been a simple minor setback but the accident had been a blow to Jack's self esteem. The sight of Jack sitting there dejected, ignoring his breakfast, disheartened Daniel. Jack had been doing so well, his spirits were up, and he had shown signs of his normal cockiness yesterday with Major Wendover when he'd breezed through one of the tests she'd assigned him. Jack had been pushing himself hard, both mentally and physically, in order to overcome the damage the virus had done to his body.

Daniel had forgotten for a moment that Jack's soul had also been hurt but Daniel was just so damned tired right now that he half wanted Jack to come and comfort him. He really didn't have the energy to go comfort Jack right now and he hated himself for it. This was his fault after all. He'd thought that when he and Jack began to have sex again things would change, start to get them back on an even footing. It seemed he'd been wrong. He just didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe Sara could talk some sense into Jack because Daniel was beginning to lose patience. He was glad he'd managed to convince Jack to let her come for a visit. She had  wanted to see Jack for weeks now.

Jack  picked up his mug and drained his coffee while his sleeve dragged onto his toast, smearing butter and jam over several inches of the material. Having had enough of Jack's unintentional untidiness, Daniel pushed his chair abruptly from the table. The noise startled Jack, his head coming up in confusion. Daniel reached for Jack's plate and cupped his hand around the fallen fragments of food. Dumping it all into the plate, he emptied both plates into the trash and placed them in the sink.

"I'll do the dishes," Jack offered tentatively.

Visions of broken bits of dishes assailed Daniel and he curtly answered, "Don't bother, I've got it." He turned the hot water on and returned to the table to pick up the rest of the dirty dishes, then swiped the table with the dishrag.

Jack continued to sit there, fiddling with something in his hands. Thinking it was a fork or spoon, Daniel reached for it and saw it was the keepsake he'd kept hidden away from Jack all these months. Instinctively he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking for the missing piece of jewelry.

"Where'd you get that?" Daniel asked, his voice sounding as if it were coming from a long way off.

"It fell out of your pants pocket," Jack said as he ran the chain through his fingers, in perfect imitation of what Daniel loved to do with the chain when he held it out of sight.

"It wasn't in my pocket." Daniel lied to Jack for the first time since they had found him alive. His face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. He'd been able to keep his need for the small bit of metal a secret ever since Jack's disappearance. He certainly didn't want Jack to know how weak he'd been, needing the security the metal offered.

"No?"

"I haven't seen it for a while. It must have fallen onto the floor and then I totally forgot about it." Daniel hated himself for the lie; his fingers itching to hold the warm, smooth metal.

"Oh. I found it under the chair in the bedroom. It's part of my dog tags, isn't it?"

"Yes." Daniel was breathing quickly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"These are what convinced you I was dead?"

"Along with a few scraps from our packs. Yes." Daniel watched in fascination as the small piece of metal went round and round Jack's fingers. He jumped when Jack suddenly slapped the chain onto the table and placed his now empty hands limply on his lap.

"I'm going to go listen to some books until Sara gets here," Jack said as he got up stiffly.

Daniel moved aside to make room for Jack, then grabbed the chain the moment Jack brushed by him. Daniel began shaking and he turned and leaned back on the counter, his arms wrapped around his chest. His fingers frantically played with the metallic links still warm from Jack's body heat.

At the sound of the doorbell Jack began searching for the blanket he knew had been on the back of the couch earlier that morning. He heard Daniel heading for the door and his movements became frenzied in his attempt to find the covering.

"Where's the damned blanket!" Jack yelled frantically at Daniel.

"Just a second," Daniel answered.

"No, I want it now! Damn it Daniel, where the hell did you put it?"

"Jack, it's on the edge of the couch, right where you left it," Daniel patiently told him.

Stretching his length along the couch, Jack's questing fingers finally found the soft fleece blanket. He pulled it to himself angrily and draped it over his legs, bending low to ensure that his feet were well covered.

He heard the voices of Daniel and Sara coming towards him and Jack leaned back onto the couch, shifting around to get comfortable. Sara's voice trailed off as she entered the living room and her footsteps stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Aha, she'd caught sight of him. He began wondering whether he looked that bad… god, Daniel had better keep him hidden away from kids, he wouldn't want to give them nightmares.

"Jack?" she finally said in a tentative voice.

"Hey Sara," Jack said with a forced smile. He turned his head in her direction and wondered what she saw when she looked at him. A crippled and sightless husk of a man, most likely. It had seemed a good idea at the time but now he was regretting that he'd agreed to Daniel's suggestion for the visit.

"Oh God, it's so good to see you," her familiar voice exclaimed. She ran down the stairs and came to a stop before him. Jack could smell the lavender perfume she loved so much. He felt a hand on his arm and he realized she was kneeling before him.

"So this must be a surprise, huh?" he said, turning his palms up with a flick of his wrist.

"No, Daniel kept me informed of your progress. Actually, you look a lot better than what I anticipated."

"He did?" Jack turned his head towards where he thought Daniel was standing.

Daniel's voice came from farther away than Jack expected and it sounded slightly sheepish. "Yeah, well, actually, uh, Sara and I have spoken on the phone at least once a week since you've been home."

Suddenly Jack felt touched and grateful that the two living persons he'd cared for the most in the world had been concerned enough about him to start communicating. Jack smiled towards Daniel before turning to Sara.

"It was nice of you to come to visit," Jack said, suddenly feeling a little less uncomfortable.

"I tried to go see you in the hospital," she said in what he recognized as righteous anger, "but when Daniel first phoned to tell me you were alive he also said you were in a high-security area and I wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, that's true," he agreed, not knowing what else to say to her. He was relieved when Daniel moved closer to join them.

"Can I get you anything, Sara?" Daniel asked playing host as Jack certainly wasn't able to provide for anyone at the moment.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said to Daniel over her shoulder. Jack heard the sound of her clothes rustle as she got up and sat down beside him.

"Okay, there's fresh coffee in the kitchen and cookies in the pantry if you feel like a snack. Help yourself, Sara."

"Thanks, I will. By the way, I brought some cinnamon rolls and made some lasagna."

"Your four-cheese lasagna?" Jack asked, remembering it used to be his favorite dish.

"Yep. I thought Daniel would have his hands full with you at home so you could use an extra home cooked meal."

"That was nice of you," Daniel said. "Thank you. Look," he continued, sounding a little self-conscious. "If you guys don't mind I'll go and run a few errands."

"Daniel…" Jack began, suddenly afraid to be left alone with his ex-wife, even though he and Daniel had agreed earlier that Daniel would leave the house for a while and give them some privacy.

Suddenly Daniel was there beside him. Jack could feel the warmth of his hand through the blanket where Daniel rested it on his thigh. "Do you want me to stay, Jack?"

Jack thought about it a moment, then realized he had nothing to fear from Sara except maybe her sympathy. He'd been nearly as bad mentally and physically when he'd returned from Iraq; Sara had never turned away from him in disgust. She had been a saint with what Jack had put her and Charlie through in those first few months.

Daniel had told Jack how both she and Daniel had gotten together to discuss putting a memorial for him on Charlie's tombstone. She deserved this little bit of time if only to be reassured that Jack was okay.

"No, we'll be fine," he said softly, patting Daniel's hand. Jack felt Daniel move closer and felt his warm breath on his face, warning him that their lips were just about to touch. They kissed a moment and Jack knew how much Daniel trusted Sara at this point to display this little bit of intimacy in front of her.

When Daniel stood up and moved away, Jack edged his hand across the sofa and touched Sara's knee. He knew she'd be sitting with her hands clasped tightly before her and he found them right where he'd expected them. She clasped his fingers, her hands feeling strangely soft and small compared to Daniel's.

"I'll be back in about an hour," Daniel said. "You two behave now."

"Thanks, Daniel," Sara replied. "We will."

Jack nervously fiddled with the edge of the blanket with his other hand as he listened to Daniel leave the house. The door closed quietly behind him and suddenly the house seemed very quiet.

"Do you need anything, Jack? Juice, coffee, water? Do you want a cinnamon roll?"

Desperate to be doing something other than just sitting there like a lump, he agreed to a snack. He could hear her opening and closing cupboard doors as she searched for a plate. In a very short time, Jack was sitting with a treat on his lap. Glad it was a finger food, he tore a piece off and nibbled at it.

"I hope you're not being too hard on Daniel," Sara told him after they'd sat eating in silence for a few minutes.

"Hard on Daniel?" Jack asked, bewildered.

"He looks tired, Jack. I know all of this must be difficult for you but it's not easy on him either."

Jack felt the familiar anger at his situation start to rise. "So he's been calling you to cry on your shoulder, has he? It's all too much for him to cope with and he doesn't know what to do about me."

"For God's sake, no!" she exclaimed. "But when he broke the news of your death to me I could see how shook up he still was. And he didn't look much better when I saw him just before you were found alive."

"Yeah, well, he's not the one sitting here blind, is he? He's the one driving around town while I can barely make my way around my own house." Jack angrily put his plate of half eaten sweets on the coffee table and winced when it crashed to the floor because he misjudged the distance.

"Oh for crying out loud, Jack, don't you dare start with the 'Look at me, I'm a wreck' routine! I lived through that when you came back from Iraq, and then afterwards you gave me hell for putting up with it when you got better."

He heard the tinkle of broken glass being picked up. "I'm telling you straight, Jack. You're stronger than this; you won't sit still and accept these limitations. If there's anyone who can overcome this, it's you. So don't blame Daniel for what you can't do right now, and don't  push Daniel away."

Jack could hear her walk angrily to the kitchen and the broken dish being dumped into the garbage. She sat down heavily beside him again, the couch bouncing slightly with her weight.

"I saw how he looks at you. He loves you, Jack, and he's so worried about you. Please think for a minute what he's gone through these past months. He saw your supposed death, and then he had to come to terms with it and start a new life for himself. We both know what it feels like to lose a loved one, don't we?"

She paused a moment and he recalled suddenly the heart-stopping pain he'd felt in the early days of Charlie's death, after the numbness had gone away. He realized then that Sara was right. Jack had been thinking mainly of himself and had hardly given any thought to Daniel's own feelings. He was now determined that he was going to get well;  he was going to make both Daniel and Sara proud of him.

"I'm glad you came," he said truthfully.

"I'm glad I did, too." He felt her lips on his cheek and smiled.

He acknowledged to himself that he had measured his progress over the past few months with baby steps and had not seen the mileage he'd made during that time. Yes, he was stuck in a world of darkness but he was home, he was amongst friends and family, he was getting stronger, and he was alive. But best of all, he had Daniel.

It had taken Sara to make Jack understand what Daniel had gone through alone, thinking him dead. That there were worse things than being blind. He felt a rush of affection for this woman sitting beside him. He hated not being able to see, but damn if he was going to sit back and live in the dark.

"Nyan, I told you those papers were important. Can't anyone around this department follow my instructions without screwing them up?  And where's that report on the artifacts SG-4 brought back from P1X-223?" Daniel drew in breath, his anger continuing unabated. "No one seems to be able to do their jobs anymore. I asked you to do a simple task, Nyan. I had more faith in your abilities. If people don't want to work for me anymore that's fine. I'll do the job myself. Is that what you want?" Daniel crossed his arms over his chest watching his assistant and the others in the lab cringe.

"Daniel, I did complete the report. I sent it to you yesterday." Nyan stood up. "We all realize you've been busy. We know that Colonel O'Neill's recovery is taking a lot of your time."

"Are you saying I'm not pulling my weight anymore?" Daniel's voice rose ominously. "I've been doing mine and more. And it looks like I'll need to continue to do so."

He clenched his fist around the dog tag and chain in his pocket. Great, now he was getting a headache; just what he needed, another headache to top off the rotten start to his day. Jack's nightmare had Daniel awake and unable to sleep long after Jack had relaxed and fell back asleep. The headaches he'd been experiencing had only increased in intensity over the past week and he wanted to avoid telling Janet because he knew she was going to tell him he needed to take a break. Didn't any of them understand? Daniel swept the papers off the lab table in frustration.

"Damn it, Nyan, can't you keep anything in order so I can find it when I need it?" He stormed out of the lab, aware Nyan was following him. "Didn't I tell you to get to work?" Daniel turned around. "Don't you think you'd better be working on the report that was due to me yesterday instead of following me to offer some paltry apology?"

"Doctor Jackson?"

Daniel whirled at the voice. Doctor Mackenzie was watching Nyan and him, a frown marring his usual neutral features.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Everything is under control, Doctor Mackenzie," Daniel said in a tight voice. "Some of my staff has decided to ease up on their workloads." Mackenzie didn't budge. "What are you waiting for? Me to screw up so you can cart me back to mental health?"

"Daniel," Mackenzie said in a low voice, "come with me."

"I'm busy." Daniel felt trapped. Nyan and Mackenzie were both studying him and damn his head hurt.

"I said, come with me," Mackenzie repeated. He stepped between Nyan and Daniel. "I need to speak to you. It's important."

"Go, Daniel. I'll find the report for you." Nyan made a shooing motion. "It won't take long."

Daniel ground his teeth and followed Mackenzie who was walking at a rapid pace through the halls. They didn't even take the elevator but rather used the stairs. Daniel balked at the office door.

"I don't need to see you, Doctor Mackenzie. I'm fine."

"Go in," Mackenzie gestured. Daniel glanced at the psychiatrist, suddenly worried about the man's expression. He wondered if Mackenzie was going to tell him something bad about Jack. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he entered the office and stood in front of the small desk there.

Mackenzie closed the door and pointed. "Sit."

Nausea churned Daniel's stomach like it had when he was eleven and had been sent to Principal Torrecetti's office for punching Big Mouth Billy when he made fun of Daniel one time too many.

"Now," Mackenzie said.

Daniel sat in the chair by the desk and pressed his hands between his thighs so the psychiatrist wouldn't notice their trembling. "Is this about Jack?" At Mackenzie's stare, he continued. "About Colonel O'Neill? Jack's been doing really well at his rehab." Daniel clicked his mouth shut, realizing he was starting to babble.

"I don't want to speak to you about Colonel O'Neill." Mackenzie sat down at his desk. Daniel felt his mouth go dry. He studied the picture on the desk, a smiling Mackenzie with his arm around a woman Daniel assumed to be his wife and a gangly boy who must be his son. All of them were dressed in ski gear.

"You ski, Doctor Mackenzie?" Daniel asked, waving his finger at the picture.

"Yes, I do." Mackenzie nodded and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. "You want to tell me what the display in the hallway was about, Daniel?"

"Display?"

"Surely you aren't going to tell me that behavior was characteristic of your normal repertoire of dealing with your staff."

Daniel pushed his hand into his pocket, panicking when he couldn't feel the chain. He found it a moment later and began rubbing the small piece of metal while he schooled his face to show no reaction to Mackenzie's words. "My staff hasn't been functioning at their best lately. I needed to take charge." Damn this headache. His head felt like it was in a vise. He rubbed at his forehead, dropping his hand when he noticed Mackenzie was studying him with interest.

"I'm concerned about you, Daniel. I know you've been helping Colonel O'Neill." Daniel opened his mouth to interrupt but Mackenzie continued. "An admirable trait to be sure but I believe it is interfering with your health and your ability to do your job."

Daniel said nothing, only stared at the floor. None of them understood. None of them understood how important it was that he do it all.

"Daniel? Are you okay?" Mackenzie's voice sounded far off. There was a sound of Velcro and a tightening around his bicep. Daniel looked down in a daze to find Mackenzie pumping a blood pressure cuff.

The other man smiled at him. "I am a physician, Daniel."

He knew that. Daniel knew it, but he couldn't find any words to speak. His head was pounding and the nausea was increasing.

"We're going to get you to the infirmary, Daniel." A firm hand was placed on his shoulder. "No, you just sit still. I'm going to call for a wheelchair."

Nodding, Daniel listened as Mackenzie spoke into the phone, his words a jumble. God, he was so tired.  If he could just have a night's uninterrupted sleep he'd be fine. He couldn't get sick, Jack was depending on him. His vision grayed around the edges and he felt strong hands holding him up.

"Help's on the way, Daniel," Mackenzie said, his voice strangely reassuring.

Daniel  was falling forward and he heard a shout before his world swirled into blackness.

"Your Braille reading is improving, Colonel O'Neill." Major Wendover's voice was warm with praise. "You have quite a talent for it."

Jack grinned towards her. "Not one I wish I needed to display."

"No, but a talent nonetheless." He heard some papers rustling. "I thought we could do some more mobility training tomorrow. We can go downtown and practice your street crossing. I know you haven't gotten much practice at it on your own yet."

Nodding in agreement, Jack checked his watch. The afternoon had flown by with all the hard work he and Major Wendover had done. Once a week they did therapy at the Academy Hospital. It gave him practice on his orientation and mobility skills, learning to use public transportation to get places, but Daniel usually picked him up on these days. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, put on some music, order some take out, and chill with Daniel.

"Sir, I'd like you to consider attending the program in Tucson."  It was a familiar issue between the two of them, the rehab program for blind veterans one she'd explained in great detail. "You don't need physical therapy anymore. You are completely mobile and from all I can see, have regained your muscle tone and strength.  It would be an excellent program for you, Colonel O'Neill and allow you to become more independent."

"Yes, Major." Jack wondered if his eyes actually rolled anymore when he used that particular tone of voice. "I need some more time." He knew that at some point in the future he needed to consider attending the program, but there was a finality to going to the intensive rehab program. As long as he only had to have sessions with Major Wendover he could pretend that this was only temporary. Jack hated knowing she was right. He hated knowing he needed to get away from Daniel and learn to be independent once more. But Jack also knew he needed to be able to do more. Daniel seemed quieter than usual and he knew Daniel wasn't sleeping well at night. Maybe he and Daniel could have a long talk about the program in a few days. Maybe he could persuade Daniel to drive up to the national park and they could go for a long walk. Now that his strength was nearly completely recovered, Jack felt the need to use it.

"I understand, sir." Her chair scraped back and he heard the click of her heels as she began to put away some of the materials they'd been using.

Jack stood and gathered up the book he was reading, taking it over to the shelf.  He heard the door open but the next sound wasn't the voice he expected to hear.

"Hello, sir." Jack nearly dropped the book at the sound of Carter's voice, not Daniel's.

"Carter? What are you doing here? Where's Daniel?" Jack took the few steps back to the table and retrieved his cane. "Did something happen to him?"

"He's not hurt, Colonel." Carter was close enough that he could smell the slight vanilla scent of her shampoo. He could also sense the underlying tone of her discomfort and distress. " But I think you'll want to come with me and see him. He's in the infirmary on the base. Are you ready to go?" She hesitated, "Should I…your arm? Your cane?"

"I can use my cane, Carter. I'm pretty familiar with the hospital. I'll take your elbow when we get outside."

"Okay, sir," Carter said, and he followed her down the halls after a quick goodbye to Wendover. She offered him her arm after they walked through the doors. Carter's steps were hesitant; as if she was afraid he'd fall.

"Carter, you can pick up the pace. I'm capable of walking." Jack regretted the harsh tone he used as soon as the words left his mouth. "Sorry, Carter. I know you're not used to this."

"You're forgiven, colonel." She sighed a little.  "I'm not parked too far away."

"We're not going to have to ride your motorcycle are we?" Jack joked.

"No, sir. I'm driving your truck." He felt her arm jiggle a little bit as she tried to hold in a laugh.

They didn't speak again until they were both in the car, Sam's car, not Jack's truck he was relieved to note, buckled in and on the way back to the mountain.

"What's wrong with Daniel?" Jack finally broke the silence.

"He's in the infirmary. I don't know the whole story, sir, but I know he's not in any danger. He was with Doctor Mackenzie and from what I understand he collapsed."

"Collapsed? And this is not a danger sign?" Jack swept his hand to the side, cursing his blindness when he couldn't find Carter's cell phone. "Where the hell is your phone, Carter?"

"It's in my purse, sir."

He heard a zipper and then her rummaging around to find it. The car swerved and Jack put out his hand to brace himself. He still couldn't get used to traveling in a car in the grayness that was now his world.

"Sorry, sir."

Jack relaxed as the car came back under control. He heard a few beeps that meant Carter was trying to drive while dialing. "Give it here, Carter." He held out his hand and the small phone was placed in his hand. Damn, his fingers were shaking and he couldn't remember the layout of the numbers. He took a deep breath. "What can you tell me?" He held the phone, trying to think through his worry.

Carter drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.  "As I said, sir, I was involved in an experiment on those crystals we, I mean, SG-9 and I, brought back from the Irissin homeworld. General Hammond phoned me and asked if I could pick you up, that Daniel was in the infirmary."

"I'm not blaming you, Carter." Jack pressed the buttons, remembering the placement and held the phone to his ear. A recording came on telling him there was no service available. They must be driving through a dead zone. He wondered where they were exactly. Jack hated the feeling of helplessness when people forgot to tell him his surroundings.  He placed the phone on the dashboard. "I just want to know what's going on."

"It must be hard," Carter said a minute later. "Not being able to… I mean, being... Sorry, sir. I was out of line."

"It's okay to say the word, Carter. I know I'm blind. I know people stare when I walk somewhere using my cane. And it is hard learning to rely on something other than sight to see, but I'm alive, Carter. I think all in all I've got a decent deal."

"Yes, sir." Her breath came out in a whoosh and she sounded happier than she had since she'd come to pick him up. "When we get to the SGC do you need me to assist you?"

"I'll take your arm, Carter. We'll get there faster." Jack tapped his fingers on his knee impatiently. "Will we be at the gate soon?"

"Soon, sir. About three more miles." And he felt their speed pick up a little bit. Jack felt for the phone, dialing the number with more confidence, and sighing when it rang.

"Doc?" Jack asked when Fraiser answered the phone. "Why aren't you with Daniel?"

"Daniel is asleep, Colonel O'Neill. I'll brief you on his condition when you get here."

"His condition?" Jack spoke around a dry mouth.

"Sir, Daniel is resting comfortably and he will be fine." Fraiser sounded slightly perturbed at his continued questions.

"Colonel," that was Carter's voice, "we're coming up to the gate."

"I'll be there in less than five, doc," Jack said and pressed off.

It took them three minutes, Jack calculated. Fraiser had him cornered as soon as he walked through the infirmary doors, which didn't relieve his concern over Daniel's current medical state.

"Please, Janet." Jack rarely used her first name but he needed her to understand. Before he would have been content with a glimpse of Daniel in a bed across the infirmary, but now he needed to see Daniel a different way. Needed to touch him, listen to him breathe.

"Sir, I need to get back to my experiment. We're at a critical stage and…"

Jack shooed Carter away with a grim smile. "Go. I'll make sure you're filled in later."

"Yes sir." She patted his arm once and was gone and Jack was left standing, not sure of where he was in the large space of the infirmary.

"Doc, can I see him?" Jack hated the desperate sound of his voice but the sounds of the infirmary seemed louder than usual. He could hear the beeping of what he guessed to be a heart monitor and there were hushed voices floating from a nearby bed. He heard another doctor, a voice he didn't recognize, mention something about the next twenty four hours being critical. Had Carter lied to him? Smells were overwhelming, antiseptic and medicinal at the same time.

"I'm sorry, sir." Jack reached out a hand at those words, groping for something to grab on to when his knees felt watery. "Here, Colonel, take my arm."

Jack waved his hand until he made contact with Fraiser's elbow, realizing how small she was. She began walking and her footsteps led them away from the voices. "We have Daniel in a bed in the back. Right now he's sleeping, so after we give you a chance to sit with him for a few minutes Doctor Mackenzie and I would like to discuss his condition with you."

"Mackenzie?" Jack wondered what the SGC's psychiatrist was doing involved in Daniel's care.

"Daniel was with Doctor Mackenzie when he collapsed," Janet explained. She stopped walking, guiding Jack's hand to the rail of an infirmary bed. Jack gripped the cold metal in relief. "Daniel's hooked up to an IV right now, sir. You're on his left side so be careful you don't dislodge it."

Jack nodded as he slid his hand along the rail, following it towards the head of the bed.

"I'll be back in five minutes, Colonel," Janet whispered and gave his arm a pat.

Jack listened to the soft tap-tap of her heels. He reached out with his left hand, searching for a place to put his cane. He smiled in relief when he made contact with a small bedside table. After placing the folded up cane on it, he held onto the bed rail with both of his hands. He bent closer to the bed, listening to the even sound of Daniel's breathing. He didn't want to wake his lover but Jack needed confirmation that Daniel was somewhat okay. He felt for the headboard and then slid his hand down, smiling as his fingers made contact with Daniel's soft hair. He trailed his fingers along Daniel's skull across an ear and then to the skin of Daniel's cheek. He frowned as he felt the planes of Daniel's face, wondering if Daniel had lost weight because the bones seemed more prominent than he remembered. Daniel's lips were slightly parted and Jack sighed as warm breath touched his fingertips. He missed seeing Daniel asleep. He used to love to wake in the morning and lie in bed, watching his lover sleeping, his face boyishly relaxed. Reluctantly removing his hand from Daniel's face, he slid his fingers across Daniel's collarbone, noting the fabric was a T-shirt instead of a hospital gown. That gave him a little more hope that Daniel's condition wasn't as grim as he'd first assumed. He brushed his fingers down the sweep of Daniel's arm, using the barest touch, the one he'd learned to use when practicing Braille. He managed to avoid the IV stuck in the back of Daniel's hand and found Daniel's long fingers. He squeezed them gently and then patted the unresponsive hand, knowing Daniel must be exhausted if he hadn't awakened by now.

Fraiser's familiar footsteps approached and Jack straightened reaching for his cane. "I'm ready, doc."

"We're going to meet in the briefing room," Janet answered. "Doctor Mackenzie and I need to speak to the rest of SG-1 and General Hammond as  well."

Minutes later, seated at the table in the briefing room for the first time since his return home, Jack came to the realization how much his life had changed. 'Well, duh,' he told himself in wry tones, 'you're blind for starters.' He rested his hands flat on the surface then moved his hands to his lap when he feared the others would see the tension in them. Teal'c sat on one side of him, evidently coming from the gym judging from the slight smell of sweat, while Carter flanked him on the other. She was nervous; he could hear the small squeaks her chair made as she tried to get comfortable.

"Doctors Mackenzie and Fraiser?" General Hammond said off to Jack's left. "Are you able to give us a report on Doctor Jackson's condition?"

Jack was glad Hammond was asking because he didn't know if he had any spit left to talk.

Mackenzie began to speak and Jack was struck by the irony that the man who once kept Daniel in a padded cell was now possibly the man who saved his lover's life. Jack had to admit, despite his own misgivings when Janet requested he speak to Mackenzie as he was beginning to gain strength after coming home from Hannara, that the man knew his stuff. The sessions he continued to have with Mackenzie to discuss the nightmare of his life on Hannara and the ramifications of the disease that had robbed him of his sight were helping him to adjust. Maybe not accept but adjust.

"I asked Doctor Jackson to accompany me to my office," Mackenzie began. "He was acting quite out of character in the hallway outside his lab."

"Out of character?" Jack tilted his head, unable to read Mackenzie's emotions in the near monotone.

"Daniel was berating one of his assistants. Nyan, to be exact. He was drawing a large crowd." Mackenzie drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "He came with me and I asked him a few questions once he was seated in my office. It appeared that he had a headache. He kept rubbing his forehead as if in pain and appeared to have trouble following our conversation. He became pale and I called for assistance. I took his blood pressure which was higher than usual. I spoke to him a little longer. He passed out before the medics arrived."

"Daniel woke up in the infirmary," Fraiser continued the tale. "He admitted he hadn't eaten since yesterday at lunchtime."

"We had supper together last night," Jack said, stunned by what he was hearing.

"Evidently you had supper, Colonel. Daniel didn't eat," Janet reported. "I'm quite concerned about him. He's lost some weight, weight I thought he might regain when Colonel O'Neill was found. In addition his blood pressure is a little higher than usual for him. Right now he's receiving an IV to help with the slight dehydration and the low blood sugar. He's sleeping comfortably. But my recommendation, along with Doctor Mackenzie's, is that Daniel be placed on medical leave for a minimum of two weeks. He's headed towards physical collapse if he doesn't take some time to take care of himself."

"I told him he's doing too much," Jack muttered. "Taking care of me is too much extra work."

"I doubt Daniel would agree with that, Colonel O'Neill," Mackenzie said. "And I believe telling him he shouldn't be concerned with your health and rehab would be a disservice. But Daniel doesn't need the stress of being at work right now. He needs time to adjust to your being home."

"Doc?" Jack turned towards the last place he'd heard Janet's voice. "How long is Daniel going to be in the infirmary?"

"I'll probably release him tomorrow morning after Doctor Mackenzie and I have a little talk with him about nutrition and proper rest," Janet said.

Jack thought of the cabin, wondering if a little vacation there would be permitted. He had a sudden longing to get away too, to forget that he was blind; to not be confronted every day with his inability to do his former job. "Will he be able to go on a vacation, doc?"

"I don’t see why not," Janet answered, although Jack could imagine her raised eyebrows.

"Colonel," Carter leaned closer, "Teal'c and I would be happy to assist you with making any arrangements."

"Yes, O'Neill. We have been concerned for Danieljackson for many months." Teal'c placed a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Thanks," Jack said, still unsure of how to accept assistance from anyone without appearing needy. He gripped his cane. "Doc? Do you think maybe I could go back to the infirmary and sit with Daniel for awhile?"

"I think that will be fine, sir," she answered. "If you're ready?"

Jack rose, unfolding his cane, wanting the sense of independence it gave him even while holding Fraiser's arm. He held her arm just above the elbow once more and swept the cane in small arcs as they began their slow walk back to the infirmary. For the first time since realizing he was blind, he wasn't concerned with what other people thought as he walked through the halls. He didn't care if he was getting pitying looks from former colleagues as he and Fraiser walked. He had a purpose and nothing was going to keep him from Daniel's side.

"Sir, I think getting away is a good idea. Daniel has been on what basically amounts to a roller coaster ride these past months." Fraiser stopped walking. A gentle hand was placed on Jack's forearm. "I know he's glad you're back sir. I know your blindness doesn't matter to him. But if I know Daniel he's second guessing every decision he made from the time you went missing and even from the time since you've come home."

"He feels guilty for this," Jack motioned to his eyes. "For what happened."

"Guilt, grief, joy at your being home. Daniel's life has changed too, sir. I think that Doctor Mackenzie and I are guilty of forgetting that." Fraiser's voice trailed off. They stood in silence a moment before her professional voice was back. "Shall I take you to him, sir?"

"Right behind you," Jack said, taking her arm once more, his mind working. Daniel had been taking care of him these past months; it was going to be Daniel's turn to be cared for.

 Continue on to Part Four  /  Return to Part Two

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