~ Å ~
He
wakes gently. His body rested, his mind at ease. For long moments he lays
still, soaking in the feeling of serenity about him. No sounds disturb his
peace, save a gentle whisper of silk curtains moving in the breeze.
He
rises, stretching his body awake. He wears no clothing; but the air is warm, he
has no need for it. He moves about the room touching the few objects there - the
large round bed; silken sheets; the glass table, its loaded plates of fruits,
breads, cheeses, pitchers of juices. The marble fountain; the waters burbling
happily into the base. The soft towels lying to one side.
He
is hungry. He eats.
He
thirsts. He drinks.
He
washes his body - cool water slides down his skin. He smiles at the sensation.
He wanders to the curtain, touches. He knows no curiosity, no fear. No regret.
No anticipation. He knows nothing and is at peace.
He
moves through the curtain and steps into another world.
~ Å ~
Sam was
trying to rein in her growing sense of frustration as she patiently answered
the questions put to her. Where had she been the day before? Had she noticed
anyone paying unusual attention to Daniel? What did she think someone would
hope to gain by taking him?
“As I
said, Daniel is extremely gifted in languages, in understanding other cultures,
in diplomacy. I really don’t see anyone going to the trouble of kidnapping him
for those skills. And with the treaty signed between our worlds I don’t think
they would take him to gain access to the SGC’s secrets. I really didn’t spend
that much time with him yesterday. Teal’c was with him most of the day, he
spent an hour or so resting and writing up his journal in his quarters and then
we were all at the party together. The only time he was really alone was when
he went out onto the balcony, mid way through the ball. And I joined him out
there for a time. There was no-one else there.”
Jack
perked up at hearing this, and uncurled from the sofa where he’d been slouched
listening to the interviews. “Actually, Carter, that’s not true.”
“Sir?”
Jack
closed his eyes, focusing on the evening before. Got it! He snapped his fingers and marched up to where Sam was
sitting. “When I came out onto the balcony, looking for you - there was someone
else, further along, in the shadows.”
Sam
frowned, trying to recall the presence of anyone else, but failing. She had
been focused on Daniel and their memories of Sha’re. “I don’t remember anyone
else there, sir.”
“Yeah, it
was a man. Pretty old from what I could see, but he was all bent over - had
some kind of book in his hand.”
Darmen
Whey and the other investigators turned eagerly to Jack, all asking questions
at the same time.
“Ah, ah!
Shut up and let me think,” Jack yelled back, throwing diplomacy to the winds in
the desperate hope of having a clue to Daniel’s whereabouts.
As Darmen
Whey ordered a list of all elderly men present at the party, Teal’c’s calming
voice rang out over the din. “What kind of book did this man have, O’Neill?”
“It was
large - blank. ‘Bout two-feet square. The old geezer had some kind of hat on,
too. With feathers in it.”
One of the
assistant investigators stepped forward, excitement animating her face. “That
sounds like The Artist!”
“The
What?” Jack glared at her.
Hurriedly,
the woman was flipping through the list of guests invited to the ball. “Yes! He
was there!”
At the
same time as Jack impatiently huffed out, “Who was?” Darmen Whey exclaimed,
“Pheidias?”
Turning to
the members of SG1, Darmen Whey apologised. “Pardon me, Colonel. We refer to a
person commonly called The Artist. His name is Pheidias. He is considered the
greatest artist and craftsman in this and indeed any age. He is acclaimed the
world over for his innovative and magnificent paintings and sculptures. He
stopped creating years ago, when his lover died. It is rare for him to be seen
at public events, let alone attend a function such as the ball.” Addressing his
colleague he asked, “You are sure he was in attendance?”
“Yes sir,”
she replied. “And the Colonel’s description matches that of Pheidias. He has
been wearing that same hat with the feathers for years. It’s his trademark. And
he always carries an empty sketching book with him.” She continued on to
explain to the visitors; “It is really quite sad. He is so much admired and
venerated by everyone, but he has been unable to produce any artworks in years.
He is often seen wandering the streets as if searching for something or someone
to inspire him. The sketching book he carries is always open at the first page,
and it is forever blank.”
“Well, it
wasn’t last night”, Jack said. “He was drawing something when I came out to
where Daniel and Sam were standing.”
Both the
Ehren investigators gaped at him. “Drawing
something?” Darmen Whey sputtered.
“Oh, my
heavens”. The woman was looking at him in shock now. “If he… he was actually… drawing! Could, could he have been
sketching Doctor Jackson?”
“I suppose
so, I didn’t really see it too clearly. What? You think this guy, this OLD guy
carted Daniel away in the middle of the night? Danny’s a pretty big boy, you
know. There’s no way that old geezer could drag him off.”
Darmen
Whey shook himself slightly, and stood up, reaching for the comm. lines on the
desk behind him. “No,” he said. “Of course Pheidias could not have taken Doctor
Jackson by himself. But quite apart from being honoured and venerated he is
also one of the wealthiest people on this planet. He would have no trouble
acquiring assistance.”
Barking
into the comm. lines he ordered, “Get Director Spring from the Museum here
immediately.”
~ Å ~
The ground
is damp, ferns and flowering bushes abound. Tree ferns rise up, sheltering
under the shading branches of mighty trees. Birds sing with careless abandon.
Butterflies flit about in motes of sunlight. Water gurgles happily over the
stones in the streambed. It winds its way between the trees it nurtures. He
follows its journey; sliding down mossy banks, over boulders and rocky outcrops
to the cool deep pool at its base. His toes touch the water, then his body
slides all the way in. The touch of cool water feels like moonbeams on his
skin. He glides to the base of the rocks, stands to feel the water pound down
upon his shoulders. A graceful bound brings him to a moss-covered boulder. The
sun beams down through the trees’ gentle shelter, kissing his golden skinned
limbs with warmth.
He turns
his welcoming smile to the lights’ embrace.
The world
slows… stops… and fades.
~ Å ~
Twenty
hours. Twelve hundred minutes since he had discovered Daniel was missing.
Longer since he was actually taken. Taken. Removed. Abducted. Fucking
KIDNAPPED. On a safe planet. Jack let out a snarl of barely restrained fury. In
his humble opinion there were no safe planets. Anywhere. Even Earth had proved
that point. He returned his attention to the bustle of activity behind him. Law
enforcement officers hustled in and out, reports flowed from all sides. Griff,
Coburn and the rest of their team were trudging in; dispirited expressions and
slumped, tired bodies announced the negative result of their latest search.
Carter and Teal’c were out with another Ehren search team, following up yet
another lead that Jack felt in his bones would not pan out.
Whoever
had done this, disabled Daniel and spirited him away, had left next to nothing
behind in the way of evidence. No casual observer had reported anything unusual
occurring near the cabins. On the up side there had been no trace of blood from
Daniel or signs of a violent struggle that would have resulted in injury to
him. But that just meant he’d been incapacitated quickly enough to prevent him
fighting back. Jack tried to push down the sick feeling rising in his gut. Not
knowing the reason behind the deed was just fuelling his imagination, filling
his head with scenarios that did nothing to help him find his friend, and did
everything to bring him closer to panic.
Honorine
Spring arrived in a flustered swirl of amethyst coloured gowns, her Dr. Martens
making a no-nonsense beat on the floor. Jack listened impatiently as Darmen
Whey outlined the situation to her, breaking in before the Inspector could
finish.
“Ma’am, do
you know anything about this guy, this artist? What’s his name? Pheidias?”
Darmen
Whey reasserted himself by introducing the colonel. “Director Honorine Spring,
may I present Colonel Jack O’Neill, commander of the SG1 unit from Earth.”
“It is my
honour to meet you, Colonel.” Honorine looked up at him, taking in the worry in
his brown eyes, the lines of strain etched into his face. Sensing his
desperation, she launched into her explanation without hesitation. “The Artist
Pheidias is the single most important figure in the artistic community of
Ehren. Without a doubt his innovation and talent have furthered the boundaries
of possibility in art, sculpture, mechanics. He is held in the highest esteem
by nearly all Ehrens.”
She
paused, glancing at Darmen Whey who was nodding in agreement.
“However,”
Honorine continued, “There is a side to Pheidias that very few people are aware
of. Before he lost his lover, and the ability to create, he revelled in the
adoration of the general population. He presented the façade of the benevolent
creator to the public, but a few of us who dealt with him personally soon saw
him in his true guise. He was overbearing, dictatorial, insisted that his
opinion was the only one of consequence, refused the assistance or suggestion
of any other person. If he did not get his way or found that someone had
crossed him, his retribution was severe. Although it can never be proven we
suspect he is to blame for the ruination of several of his contemporaries’
careers.”
Jack
turned to Darmen Whey. “How is it that everyone seems to think the sun shines
out of this guy?”
The
Inspector was equally astonished at the apparent character assassination of
this legendary figure. Before he could reply, Director Spring answered for him;
“He was very careful to keep this part of himself hidden, and those of us who
did see it had neither the evidence nor indeed the desire to make it public.
Had we attempted to do so we would not have been believed. It seems a sad
failing of the Ehren that we will continue to believe in that which we wish to
believe, no matter how illogical or untrue.”
Nodding,
Jack empathised. “Seems to be a trait of humans everywhere. So, what else did
this guy get up to? I’m assuming it’s something more than a few artistic
spats?”
“He
renamed his lover. Totally reinvented him, erased his name and all trace of his
history before he met Pheidias. He called him Apollo, after the ancient one who
transported our people here to this planet. Apollo was regarded as an eternal
beauty, ever graceful, kind, and importantly, never changing. Apollo was never
allowed anywhere without Pheidias. When they were seen together it was obvious
that their love was genuine and all encompassing, but no-one could ever talk to
Apollo without having Pheidias present.”
Darmen
Whey straightened his spine with a snap Jack almost felt. Latent memories began
to surface, and he gazed at Honorine with a dawning understanding. “It was
always rumoured that Apollo never aged!”
“So it
was. And in the final year of his life, as Pheidias' work began to diminish,
Apollo was never seen in public. Indeed, when Apollo’s death was announced,
there was no public mourning, no burial. Nothing. Official record was made of
his death, but no one ever witnessed his death or viewed the body. Even the
location of where his ashes were placed is a mystery.”
Jack began
to drum his fingers on the desk he was sitting on. “This is all very
interesting, but how does it help us find Daniel?”
Honorine
faced him, her concern deepening with every moment. “If what you say is
correct, and Pheidias was sketching Doctor Jackson last night, then he may have
found the one person who can inspire his creativity to return. For such an
obsessive person as Pheidias, to be presented with a return of his abilities -
it would be as a blind person being granted their sight once more. He would
seize the opportunity to continue creating, regardless of the cost to any other
person.”
“You’re
saying this guy can DRAW again because of seeing Daniel and he’s grabbed him so
he can continue…? That’s nuts!”
“No,
Colonel. As hard to accept as it may be, I do believe Pheidias would allow
nothing to stand in his path to greatness once again. The success and public
adulation he commanded was as necessary to him as the air he breathed. Without
it he felt he was nothing. With it in his grasp once more, he will be ruthless
in exploiting his newfound inspiration. I do fear now for Doctor Jackson’s
safety.”
Dimly,
Jack was aware of the renewed activity around him as Darmen Whey ordered search
teams to every residence owned by Pheidias. Visions of obsessed psycho stalkers
torturing their victims began to flash across his mind, and his worry for
Daniel’s physical and mental well-being just hiked up a few more notches.
~ Å ~
He stands at the mountain’s peak - highest of all those surrounding him. They stretch away to fill the world with their shadowed valleys, glistening crowns. The first snowfall carpets the soft plants beneath his feet. Glistens on his nude skin. Sparkles with starlight in his hair. About him the darkened land spreads to all ends of the earth, unrelenting peaks marching away in search of relieving daylight. Above, heaven’s mantle embraces him. Her gleaming cloak of jewelled light giving comfort to his mind, nourishment to his soul.
He raises
his arms, returning the embrace. At one with the Mother of All the Worlds.
Starlight beams upon him. His eyes close, knowing he is loved, and loves in
return.
The world
slows… stops… and fades.
~ Å ~
The dying
rays of Ehren’s sun slanted directly into Sam’s eyes as she and Teal’c walked
tiredly up the front steps of Sorenia’s main judiciary building. The obvious
reminder that this day was nearing its end served only to increase the feelings
of frustration and anxiety that had been churning within her all day. She and
Teal’c had accompanied a squad of local police on the search of two known
criminal’s properties, and had been heading towards a third when Colonel
O’Neill had re-directed them to the rambling estate on the outskirts of the
city belonging to an artist. Unconcerned with the stares they were receiving
from the locals who were unfamiliar with their military garb, they had forced
the entry gates, swept into the beautiful old mansion, and proceeded to turn
the place upside down. Every room had been searched, cupboards opened, doors
forced. From basement to attic the squad moved with precision and found …
nothing. No trace of this artist, no trace of their friend. Leaving a couple of
police behind to conduct a more intensive forensic investigation, they returned
with heavy hearts to the hub of the search.
Angling
towards the colonel, Sam and Teal’c had to stop suddenly to avoid running into
Director Spring from the museum, as she thundered past them in a pastel flurry.
Exchanging a bemused glance, they came up behind the woman as she launched into
a dramatic announcement.
“Darmen
Whey, Colonel O’Neill, I believe there is something else we must consider about
Pheidias, in relation to Doctor Jackson. The doctor may be in more danger than
we first thought.” Honorine gave a sympathetic grimace to O’Neill as he turned
to face her.
“Oh great,
NOW what?” Jack had long passed the point of good manners and was a hair's
breadth away from outright disrespect. This day had been one long procession of
fruitless searches, dead ends and unproductive witnesses. Nodding
acknowledgement to Carter and Teal’c, he reined in his temper and enquired
gently, “I’m sorry, Director Spring. What can you tell us?”
“I have
been researching some of Pheidias’ inventions. Master Teal’c will recall the
Delphot device which is on display here in my museum?”
“Indeed, I
do,” Teal’c responded. Elaborating for O’Neill and Major Carter he said, “A
remarkable device that when in contact with a person’s hand produces an audio
and visual display that filled the entire room. Each display was unique to the
person in contact with the device. When Daniel Jackson touched it, the device
created a harmonic chiming sound, accompanied by a light display of puffy pink
clouds. It was a most impressive experience.”
Honorine
nodded. “The Delphot was invented by Pheidias. He donated it to the museum on
the condition the provenance remained anonymous. It has been proven to do no
harm to those using it, but…” She hesitated, not wanting to bring further worry
to these good people, but knowing instinctively that she was correct in her
assumptions.
“Spit it
out, ma’am. Daniel’s running out of time.”
Honorine
straightened and looked Jack in the eye. “One of the great unconfirmed rumours
that has circulated within the artistic community for years now, is that the
Delphot was merely a prototype for a much larger, much more… damaging
apparatus. It is said that the Delphot looks into the soul of the person
touching it, and constructs its images based on that person’s soul. It is also
said that Pheidias actually did build the larger version, and used it on his
lover, Apollo, to compose his paintings. The stories have it that this machine
does not just see into a person’s soul and project the artistic image inspired
by them, but that it actually takes the person’s soul from them and transfers
it to the media the artist is using. There is speculation that Pheidias’ use of
this apparatus on Apollo was the cause of his lover’s illness and subsequent
death.”
Jack’s
mouth was open and his eyebrows were hanging off the clouds before Honorine was
even halfway through her tale. “A soul sucking machine? You can’t be serious.”
As ever when looking for an explanation of the ludicrous he turned to Sam.
“Carter?”
Sam pushed
down a flash of annoyance at the assumption that she would even begin to
understand how such a machine could function. “Sir, I…” she floundered. “Sir,
scientists on earth are still debating the existence of the human soul. For a
mechanical device to not only tap into a person’s soul, but to actually harness
it and use it to produce art works… It would be way beyond anything we’ve come
across so far.”
“Daniel
Jackson did mention his hand felt strange after using the Delphot.” Teal’c
gazed down at Honorine. “However it did not affect Dr Llewellyn or myself at
all. Would this indicate that Daniel Jackson is more susceptible to the effect
of these devices?”
“It is
possible, Master Teal’c. Some studies have been done on the Delphot. One theory
does postulate that with certain people the Delphot makes a more intimate
connection than with most others. Some of these people have maintained that
they felt the audio and visual display produced by their contact with the
Delphot was drawn from their very inner being - their soul if you wish.”
“Daniel’s
inner megalomaniac produces puffy pink clouds?”
Sam felt a
small grin appearing. “I don’t know, sir. Daniel does kind of bring puffy pink
clouds to mind sometimes.”
Jack
appreciated the small moment of humour. “I am so gonna tell him you said that,
Carter.” When we find him…
“So, Ms
Spring, from what you’re saying about this Apollo guy, it took quite a while
for this apparatus thing to start to seriously affect him?”
Honorine
replied gravely, “We must keep in mind that no-one really knows the affect this
apparatus may have on Doctor Jackson. If indeed Pheidias is using it on him, he
may feel forced to use the device on Doctor Jackson much more frequently than
he did on his lover, for fear of discovery. If that is the true situation, I do
fear now for the safety of Doctor Jackson. Pheidias’ ruthlessness may push him
into subjecting Doctor Jackson to an excessive exposure of this machine’s
effects, and I can only assume that as with any harmful experience, an extreme
dose of whatever it uses as a catalyst could indeed place Doctor Jackson in
serious harm within even the time that he has been gone from you.”
Jack
stared at her, prickles of icy dread clamping around his forehead. To either
side of him he heard Sam’s intake of alarmed breath, Teal’c’s rumbling growl of
displeasure. “You’re saying it could already be too late?”
“I do
apologise for distressing you all further, however I am beginning to believe it
could be a possibility that, if our conjecture is correct, when we find Doctor
Jackson, he may be irreparably harmed. I do sincerely hope that I am incorrect.
I could be wrong…” She trailed off, not even convincing herself.
“Oh, that
is so not going to happen. We’ll find him, and Daniel will be fine.” Daniel is always fine…
As the
remaining members of SG3 and SG9 filtered into the command post alongside their
local counterparts, Darmen Whey returned his attention from his brief
conference with the search team leaders. “Colonel O’Neill, gentle beings, we
have completed our searches of every one of the fourteen properties owned or
known to have been used by Pheidias in Sorenia and several of the smaller towns
in this area. No trace has been found of him or of Doctor Jackson. This leaves
only one - a large mansion high up in the mountain ranges to the south. It is
only a short distance by air.” Bleakly he looked at the grim faces of the
off-world guests. “It is our only possibility now.”
Honorine
Spring’s clear voice rang across the room. “Pheidias used to live in the
mountains almost exclusively when Apollo was alive.”
Jack could
not stop himself from stepping forward and declaring, “Great, let’s go, right
now. And Darmen - I’d appreciate it if you would send someone to the Stargate
and send a message through asking for our Doctor Fraiser to come through. She’s
had more experience dealing with the effects of alien gizmos than anyone on our
and probably your world too.”
“It shall
be done, Colonel.”
An excited
air of expectation rose as the SGC teams and the police squads gathered their
equipment, checked weapons and comm. links, and headed out to the adjacent
airfield.
~ Å ~
He stands at the base of the marble column. He is surrounded by the maidens of love, the babes of guile scramble joyfully overhead - their impish delight in his love spreads to all there. He stands naked, cleansed of all trappings of human vanity, his soul purged and open to the blessings of the angel above him. The angel stretches forth her hands; the crown of flowers descends to his brow. About him the maidens stir - he is ready now to receive the cloak of silk, and wrapped in their gifts the purity of his love shines all around him.
He is
ready to give.
He is
ready to receive.
He is
ready…
To love
again.
The worlds
slows… stops… and fades.
~Å ~
The land
below them sped past in a silent, darkened blur. Jack leant against the cold
window, his gaze unfocused, his mind bouncing from one scenario to another. Bad
enough that people think they can just take Daniel and use him for their own
means - but to inspire some artist? I ask you! Images of Daniel’s bright
intellect flashed through his memory. The astounding leaps of intuitive logic,
the uncanny ability to virtually absorb a new language and not only find a
translation but to find an insight into the lives of the people who had
originally spoken and written it. The warmth and compassion and simple caring
the man had for so many of the people they met. Daniel was a shining example of
the best that humanity could offer, and without him the world, hell the
universe would be a much smaller, sadder place.
The
thought that someone could just take that wondrous soul and destroy it for the
sake of a slap of paint on canvas - it was so not gonna happen. Hang on Danny; we’re coming for you…
The three
air vehicles, a cross between a stealth fighter and a wide-bodied helicopter,
streaked across the night sky. Jack made a mental note to have Kovachek add one
of these to the swap list. Silent, capable of transporting two dozen soldiers
and equipment, they reminded him of the USAF’s MH53 Pave Low chopper, but in a
good way. Before them loomed the mountain range, thousands of meters high, snow
glinting brightly on the summits. And there, perched three quarters of the way
up the forested slopes was their goal - a large rambling collection of
buildings. The white stone walls gleamed in the moonlight, lighting the way for
the rescuers.
Barely a
blade of grass was disturbed as the three elegant craft set down on the
precisely ordered gardens that swept away from the mansion, flowing in a living
cascade to the edge of the cliffs some two hundred yards away. Alerted to their
presence, security lights flooded the forecourt with brilliance. Jack threw
himself from the aircraft, ducking and running in a swift controlled manner
born of long years in combat. He felt his focus narrow, unimportant matters
fading into the background; the target, the lay of the land, his troops, and
his ultimate goal the only features in his concentrated mind. His body was
relaxed yet alert, comfortable in his cammos, his P90 locked, loaded and
leading the way. True to the briefing conducted in-flight the mansion was a
vast sprawling affair; long two storied wings spreading away from a central,
five storied main building. Behind that main house would be six lesser support
buildings. On cue, SG3 peeled off to the right to take control of the west
wing, SG9 doing the same to the left, heading for the mansion’s east wing. Two
squads of police headed towards a cobbled passageway that would lead to the out
buildings. Backed up by Darmen Whey and a squad of six crack assault troops,
SG1 stormed through the main entrance of the grandiose home.
The locked
and barred ornate iron doors stood no longer than a few seconds, blown apart by
a little C4 and a large
“Clear
this side, sir.” Sam’s voice rang like a bell around the marble chamber.
“There is
no sign of anyone on this side either, O’Neill.” Teal’c’s baritone joined his
teammate’s in an echoing chorus.
Jack
traded a quick glance with his team, and with Darmen Whey. “Right, up we go.”
Taking
point, Jack pounded up the staircase. At the first landing his glance confirmed
no targets in sight. Moving to the right he signalled Darmen Whey to head to
the left, so aware of his team following him he felt as if they were physically
connected to him. The passage was also made of the gleaming white marble. Only
three doors stood closed to them, quickly opened with a solid shove. All
revealed bedrooms or sitting rooms, furniture swathed in dust shrouded
sheeting.
Nothing.
No one found, they regrouped at the staircase and continued on up to the second
floor. The second and third floors alike revealed cold impersonal rooms; vacant
and dispossessed of the trappings of a home.
As they
gathered together once more at the staircase, the reports from the other teams
confirming the same lack of any living person, Jack began to quietly despair of
finding his friend here at all. And if he were not here - then where on this
world would he be?
~ Å ~
Running;
feet pounding into the floor, breath catching in my throat; senses fully
attuned to the surroundings, nostrils catching the scent of jasmine in the warm
air, eyes squinting against the glare of bright moonlight streaming into the
hallway from tall stained glass windows. Another door; stop, weapon ready,
shoulder pushes as hand releases the catch, in … sweep left to right - windows,
stored boxes, no other door, clear … empty … back up, out, on to the next. All
around me the sounds of others repeating my movements, banging of doors, shouts
of “clear” echoing off the marble
walls; searching, searching, and not finding…
God, you have to be here, there’s nowhere else, this has to be
the place; there’s no more time to waste, so much already wasted… You’ve been
gone too long already, every minute more the threat grows, we could lose more
and more of you… till there’s nothing left to reclaim… NO. Not going to think
that, not going to happen. I will find you, and you’ll be YOU… That beautiful
mind will be intact and giving me all kinds of hell…
No more
doors here; sweep up the stairs, the last landing, more fucking marble, only
one door, follow the red dot… You WILL be
here. Suck in a breath, crank the handle, nudge the door and I’m in…
~ Å ~
Void.
Empty.
Nakedness.
Nothingness.
No colour.
No sound.
No touch.
No smell.
He yearns
to touch, to be touched. Deprived of another, he runs his own hands over his
face; feeling features he cannot remember. Touches arms filled with strength he
has no memory of building. Smooth skinned chest and stomach - no memory of
filling this with food. Narrow waist, firm buttocks. An odd raised line over
one hip. He cups the soft organs below, smiles at the pleasant sensation.
Mourns a ghosting sensation of other unrecalled pleasures. Strokes firm thighs,
down long legs that have no history before this place. Dances around toes,
bringing other sensations of pleasure.
There is
nothing but himself.
No one but
himself.
He curls in upon himself, gathers his limbs to his own embrace.
Finds comfort in his own
arms.
The world
slows… stops… and fades.
~ Å ~
Jack’s
pounding heart skipped a beat as he took in the furnishings of the room he
entered. In the centre of the room a marble fountain held burbling water, to
the right side a large round bed with white sheets spilling onto the floor. On
the left, past filmy white curtains stood an opened doorway. The whole room was
colourless, sterile. There was no one in sight, yet he knew Daniel was near.
Could almost smell the scent of his missing friend. Sensing Carter and Teal’c
spreading out on either side of him, he strode forward and pushed through the
curtains, the red targeting lasers of their P90s pointing the way.
They
stepped into another room. One continuous white circular wall soared upwards to
end in a point some thirty feet above their heads. And there, in the centre of
the room, huddled in a ball, was Daniel.
“Oh, my
God.”
“Daniel
Jackson!”
“Dammit.”
As Jack’s
hands automatically engaged the safety on his P90 and swung it down to his
side, his feet were racing across the slick white flooring. He gently called to
his friend. “Daniel? Can you hear me? It’s Jack, Daniel. Are you okay, buddy?
C’mon Danny, let me look at you.”
Crouching
down next to Daniel, Jack reached out and gently touched his shoulder. Daniel
was curled tightly into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees, which were drawn
up as close to his chest as he could. He was naked, but his skin was not cold
to Jack’s touch. Daniel had his face pressed firmly into his knees, and showed
no sign of recognising his worried friends, or even that there was anyone in
the room with him. Sam pulled a thermal blanket from her vest, shook it out and
draped it over Daniels' shoulders.
Shrugging
out of his harness and vest, Jack pulled off his camo jacket and snugged it
around Daniel’s body. “Teal’c, get a stretcher up here will ya.”
Teal’c
nodded silently, and was gone. As more team members found their way into the
room, Jack carefully slipped his hand under Daniel’s chin and gently brought
Daniel’s face up where he could see it.
Softly,
Sam said, “Pulse is strong and regular.”
Daniel’s
eyes were half-closed, his face relaxed as if in sleep. Jack gently tapped his
cheek, trying to elicit a response, but Daniel remained unaware of their
presence.
“Sir, can
you hear a humming noise?” Sam looked around them, a low vibrating sound
finally penetrating her senses.
Alert
again to another possible threat to his team, Jack jerked his attention from
Daniel and scanned the room. Featureless white walls, not even a corner to hide
anything in. There, almost below hearing level a low throbbing hum could be
heard and felt through the soles of his boots. Sam stood up and began prowling
the small room. She stopped only a few feet away from them, bending to peer at
one section of wall.
“Sir, it
looks like a panel in the wall here.” She straightened up, then wavered in a
sudden flash of dizziness. “Whoa.”
“Carter?”
Jack got to his feet, Daniel sitting unaware at his feet. As he too
straightened his back he felt the blood rush from his brain in a sick draining
flood, leaving sparks across his vision. He put out a steadying hand. “What the
hell?”
Sam’s face
turned to him, her eyes dark and huge in the colourless room. “Sir, I think
whatever that apparatus was, that has done this to Daniel...” She took in her
unresponsive friend on the floor. “I think it’s in here. And it’s still
operating.”
Jack’s
mouth thinned into a furious white line. “Help me with him.”
Stooping,
Jack tilted Daniel’s body backward so that his head nestled into Jack’s neck.
Sliding his hands under Daniel’s arms as Sam set her weapon at rest and
gathered up the limp legs, Jack nodded at her and they lifted the not
inconsiderable weight of their lost friend. Shuffling toward the door Jack
ordered the gathering police out.
Sam and
Jack gently laid Daniel down on the round white bed in the outer room. Pulling
the space blanket and jacket firmly around Daniel‘s body, Jack then stepped
back to allow Sam to check Daniel properly.
Daniel lay
still on the bed, unresponsive to Sam’s light touches as she checked him for
broken bones, open wounds, anything obvious that would account for his
unnaturally silent state. His eyes stayed half-open, gaze fixed on nothing,
unaware of the fingers Sam snapped in front of his face, no recognition showing
of his friend’s worried calls.
Quietly,
Sam moved to Jack’s side. “Sir, I can’t find anything visibly wrong with
Daniel. There’s no wounds, no sign of internal damage. His eyes are open but
he’s not processing anything. I really don’t know what’s wrong. We need to get
him to Janet a.s.a.p.
Jack
nodded and stepped out into the corridor to confer with Darmen Whey. “Report?”
“The outer
buildings are all deserted, O’Neill. As is this one. It would appear Pheidias
has ordered his staff to leave. There has been no sight of him yet.”
“Well,
we’d better find him, because that thing in there has done something to Daniel,
and he might be the only one who knows how to help him.” Jack nodded at Teal’c
as the
“NO! No,
no, no. That is NOT right! Put him back! Put him back NOW. You will ruin the
canvas. Put him back!”
An
indignant voice broke through the chatter of the gathered police forces, as a
small figure clad in a russet-red coloured tunic and pants darted between them
and disappeared into the white room. A slowly closing door revealed the
concealed passageway the man had just left.
“Hey! Stop
that guy!” Jack barrelled into the room after the man, to find the intruder
being effectively held at bay by one very angry USAF Major. The little man
turned and accosted Jack, his small frame, blazing red hair and perfunctory
mannerisms bringing vivid impressions of an annoyed squirrel to Jack’s mind.
“Pheidias,
I presume?”
“Are you
insane?” The little man cried.
“Am I? For crying out loud.”
“You must
return the subject to my chamber at once! The canvas will be ruined. You have
no right to interfere with my work.” The artist turned back to the bed and
tried unsuccessfully once again to dodge around Sam. “This is outrageous! I
will report you to the authorities.”
“Knock
yourself out - the authorities are right here and they’re about to arrest your
ass!”
Pheidias
glared at Jack and scoffed, “Don’t be absurd. You have entered my home without
invitation. You have interrupted a very important work of art.” He darted
around Sam, reached out a gnarled hand and grabbed a fistful of Daniel’s hair,
jerking Daniel’s head up off the pillows.
“Hey!” Sam
whipped around and smacked the old man’s hand away from Daniel, slipping her
other hand under Daniel’s head and gently guiding him back to the pillows.
Darmen
Whey moved up to the bedside tableau and announced, “Pheidias, I am placing you
in custody, to answer the charges of unlawful abduction and denying the right
of freedom to Doctor Daniel Jackson.”
Pheidias
gave the policeman a scant moment’s attention, muttering “Who?" before
returning his gaze to the still figure on the bed. “This will not do. No, not
at all.”
Jack let
out a gust of annoyance and grabbed the little red man’s shoulder, turning him
back to face his accusers. “What did you do to Daniel? He’s practically comatose.
Only… awake. Whatever you did, undo it. NOW.”
Pheidias
looked sadly up into Jack’s grim face. “Yes, yes. It is unfortunate. An
unforeseen occurrence. What to do? What to do?”
Jack
considered smacking the man a good one. He couldn’t make this little man out.
He obviously had done this… whatever this was, to Daniel, but seemed to hold no
concept of the immorality of his actions. He seemed rational, if angry, but the
anger was directed at being interrupted in his work, not at being caught in his
crime. Now, he seemed to be actively thinking of a way to help Daniel. And yet
there was a distinct lack of remorse in the air.
The
artist’s face suddenly lit up with a huge smile. “Yes, yes. Of course. So
obvious. I know the solution!” He gazed happily at the forbidding faces around
him.
“And? So?
Therefore…?” Jack’s last strand of patience snapped with a twang.
“Don’t you
see? Obvious! Obvious! The perfect solution! It will be my ‘Unfinished
Masterpiece’!!” He waited, expecting accolades and applause for his brilliance
in the face of adversity.
There was
none forthcoming in the outraged silence.
Only the
sound of Jack’s P90 slipping free of its safety catch.
Before
anyone else could muster up a suitable response, Teal’c brushed between Darmen
Whey and Jack, wrapped both fists in Pheidias’ red jerkin and lifted the little
man off his feet. Dangling him two feet off the floor, Teal’c growled into the
artist’s face, “You will reverse what has been done to Daniel Jackson
immediately.”
“You, you
mean the subject?” Pheidias choked.
“I do.”
“But there is nothing to be done. He is giving
his soul for my art. It is the price of excellence. You should be very proud of
him.” The artist beamed happily into Teal’c’s face, completely unaware of the
disapproval emanating from him.
Jack let
out a furious gust of air. “Okay. That does it. Darmen, get this nut job away
from here before I do something I so won’t regret. Teal’c, Sam, load Daniel up
and let’s get him to someone who really can help him.” He flung another
disgusted look at Pheidias who was still dangling in midair, his chin cranked
over Teal’c’s fist, gazing adoringly down at Daniel.
“So
beautiful… I’ll call you Adonis!” he crooned.
~ Å ~
Ten
minutes later they were down in the foyer, preparing for the flight back to
Sorenia. Daniel was securely ensconced in a stretcher, protected from the night
chill by mounds of blankets. His eyes remained half open, no recognition of his
friends or surroundings bringing them to light. As Jack was stooping to take up
the head of the stretcher he paused, the clatter of boots on the marble stairs
bringing him upright. Griff and Coburn were on their way down, expressions
grim.
“Colonel,
you’d better take a look at this before you go.”
“What is
it Major?”
“We’ve
found the workshop, sir. Where this guy did whatever it was he was doing.”
Griff hesitated, casting a wondering glance at Daniel. “And we also found the
artworks, sir.”
“Lead the
way, Major. Llewellyn, you’re with us.” With a glance Jack rounded up the
remnants of his team, leaving Daniel in the care of the remaining SGC troops.
They
pounded back up the marbled staircase. At the fifth floor Griff and Coburn led
the way into the previously hidden passageway. A quick jog brought them out
into a large, glass-roofed room, one side of which was covered in banks of
monitors and buzzing, humming machinery. Many of the monitors were live,
showing the now empty round room where they had discovered Daniel. The other
side of the chamber was stacked dozens of feet deep with huge panels - some over
ten feet high - all embossed with pictures. As they neared, the pictures could
all be seen to feature the image of the same man - a tall, raven haired man
with sharply etched features. He was portrayed in many different poses, each
setting unique, yet in each one the overwhelming presence of the man shone
through.
“Wow,”
Kate breathed as she leant forward for a closer look.
“Hoo,
boy,” seconded Sam as she too found herself captivated by the images. “You
know, he’s not even my type but I feel like I could just leap into a picture
with him and…” She pulled back, embarrassed, waving her P-90 as an ineffectual
fan.
“… know
his very soul.” The soft conclusion to her statement sounded beside Sam. She
turned a surprised and amused grin at Teal’c.
“Yeah. How
weird is that?”
“Very.”
Jack tried and failed to break his visual connection with the bewitching scenes
before him. Feeling more than a little disconcerted that he was ogling a naked
man - for each and every one of the pictures showed the model in all his natural
glory - he leaned forward and broke his self declared Rule Number One: Don’t
Touch It. Jack gently stroked his fingers across one of the panels, trying to
work out the medium used. It didn’t seem to be regular paint, or ink, or
photography, or textiles or anything else his admittedly limited knowledge of
art could supply. “What is this stuff? Looks like he could leap right off the
canvas and come to life.”
“Beats me,
sir.” Sam turned away almost forcibly and headed over to the machinery. Better
to try to tackle something she had at least some hope of understanding.
Kate
Llewellyn looked up from the camcorder she was panning over the panels. “It
reminds me a little of the computer manipulations my brother does, but these
are so far ahead of that. They’ve got such depth of field they’re almost three
dimensional.”
Teal’c was
browsing through the stacks, pulling aside the ones in front to get to those
hidden further in. He straightened, a scowl crinkling his face. “O’Neill.
Notice the pictures here in the back show a remarkably different representation
of the model than those at the front.” He pulled out a medium sized panel, its
six by three feet size displaying the model cavorting in a bathhouse. Placing
it next to a similar sized panel at the front of the stacks, the SGC’s amateur
art appreciation association gathered about to form their considered opinions.
“Huh, look
at that,” Jack huffed in surprise. He clapped a hand on Griff’s shoulder and
hauled the man back from his nose to picture inspection.
Coburn found
his voice first. “It’s definitely the same guy - but look at the difference.
Assuming the ones at the front of the pile were the ones done most recently,
he’s not aged so much as… changed, somehow.”
Kate
nodded in agreement. “He’s still beautiful, but in the later one it’s like he’s
missing something. Some part of his personality, or something.”
“As if the
man’s soul had become lost to him,” declared the First Prime of Art
Appreciation.
Jack
battled down the shiver of unease that shot down his spine. His people were
right, the earlier pictures showed the man full of vitality and a naturally
joyful spirit. The final ones showed the still beautiful body, but there was
definitely some joie de vivre lacking in him. It was the eyes. The lips and
face were smiling but the honey-coloured eyes were flat and lifeless. His gran
always said the eyes were the windows to the soul. This guy looked like his had
up and departed way before the rest of him was ready for the final journey.
They looked… they looked like Daniel’s had when they found him in that damn
room.
“Okay,
kids. Let’s leave these to the experts. Chopper’s waiting.”
They tore
themselves away with muttered, “Yes, sirs.” Before he could reach the door
Teal’c’s sharp bark of, “O’Neill” brought him back to the
It was
Daniel. Obviously. Their friend’s face and body was as familiar to them as
their own after four long years of living and sleeping in close proximity. Yet
it was Daniel as they had never seen him before. He was standing on a
mountaintop, surrounded by darkened peaks that rolled on to the horizon.
Snowflakes drifted around him, shining on his skin. Daniel’s face was upraised,
eyes gleaming a startling blue in the moonlight. His left arm was stretching
out above him, as if to grasp something almost within reach. His right hand lay
curled above his heart, giving the impression of him cradling something
precious to his breast. But it was the look on his face that blew Jack’s breath
out of his lungs. Daniel’s expression was so joyful, so full of love, of peace
and contentment that Jack ached with the knowledge that with one or two
exceptions, he had never seen that look on Daniel’s face in reality.
He felt
the others gather around, muted exclamations of surprise and wonder and a
"Holy Hannah" floating in the air. At any moment Jack expected Daniel
to notice their presence and hop down off his mountain, all flustered at being
caught out doing his nude homage to the moon.
Teal’c was
pulling the covers off the other panels, revealing even more of Daniel than
Jack felt was decent, even for close friends to see. There was Danny playing
about under a waterfall, and another showing him in a temple surrounded by
cherubim and ladies in long robes.
Jack felt
a flush of anger surge through him. Yes, he knew Daniel was a good looking guy,
but to be confronted with the evidence of the lengths to which Pheidias had
gone to possess and manipulate his gentle friend, was just about the last straw.
When Sam plucked at his sleeve and muttered, “Sir, there’s something else you
should see,” it was all he could do to stop himself from snapping at her. A
sharp jerk of his head to Teal’c had the
In the
centre of the apparatus stood another panel, now uncovered. This was obviously
the work in progress that had Pheidias in knots. The panel was mostly white -
an empty room - and there curled in the centre on the floor was Daniel. Daniel
as they had found him, arms clenched about his drawn up legs. But the look on
Daniel’s face was nothing like the blank unawareness when they had found him.
This picture showed such pain and grief and longing on Daniel’s face that Jack
felt almost sick. This was not art, by any decent person’s definition. This was
violation - violation of Daniel’s rights to freedom, to privacy, to governance
of his own emotions. This was violation on such a grand scale; Jack couldn’t
even begin to fathom the reasoning of the mind behind it.
Sam moved
quietly beside him. “Sir, I’m wondering if this machine somehow dictates the
emotions of the person in the room. Daniel’s expressions in the pictures don’t
seem to be ones that we normally see on him. It could have something to do with
his present state.”
“Yeah.
Griff, you and your team stay here, pull this thing apart and see what you can
find to help Daniel. Teal’c, Carter, let’s get Daniel home.”
A chorus
of acknowledgements followed his retreating figure from the chamber.
~ Å ~