Brotherhood (7/27)

[nightspear]

Title: Brotherhood (Table of Contents)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. I gain nothing of material value from this.
Pairings: Gen.

Chapter1	Chapter2	Chapter3	Chapter4	Chapter5
Chapter6	Chapter7

XXXXX

The Linvris

XXXXX

20 September 1999; Psychiatry Clinic, SGC; 1400 hrs

"Daniel? Are you listening?"

"Yes," Daniel said politely. "I'm trying to decide how to answer your question."

Dr. Mackenzie folded his hands on the desk he was using in the psych clinic adjoined to the main infirmary. "And the difficulty is...?"

"Just that I realize you've been doing your job longer than I've been alive," Daniel said, "and I'd rather not offend you, Doctor."

"Well, I'm the one who asked the question in the first place," Mackenzie said calmly. "Don't worry; I have a thick skin. You don't get points off for your opinions, even your opinions about members of my staff."

"But I can get points off for how you interpret my opinions to reflect my state of mind," Daniel pointed out. "I don't want to sound...well, that chart already says I'm uncooperative."

Mackenzie raised an eyebrow.

Daniel made sure not to roll his eyes. "I spend all day trying to read alien text from crumbling rock and shaky camera footage. Reading upside down isn't difficult."

"You're right about what it says," Mackenzie said, "but you wouldn't want to come off as evasive, either."

They'd been here for hours already, covering everything from past missions to hypothetical future missions to feelings to personal things that he really thought they had no business talking about, and he still wasn't sure how to win each verbal skirmish. He was happy to have debates with people; he was less happy about the idea that thinking things wrong might keep him off a team.

"Psychology...is important to the researchers in my department," Daniel finally said. "The study of behavior and...and motivations and the relationship between people and their environment is something we try to be very aware of."

"And the reason for the less than stellar comments about attitude...?" Mackenzie lifted Daniel's chart a few inches, which looked full already with comments from the various previous tests he'd had to complete.

"With respect, while I admit that I have no...context for understanding psychology in a clinical or medical setting," Daniel said, "I think you're doing it wrong."

He couldn't read Mackenzie's expressions, either. It was unnerving. "In what sense?"

"Well," Daniel said, "I don't think it's paranoid to say you have a lot of doubts about my joining a first-line exploration team, largely because of my age."

"As a student of culture," Mackenzie countered, "I think you understand our doubts very well."

"I do, and that's my point, really--that you're doing this without the proper context. You're observing me, and recording my answers, and...and formulating an idea of what that says about me, based on your own cultural norms."

"Our own cultural norms?"

"How old are you, Doctor?" Daniel said. For perhaps the first time, Dr. Mackenzie seemed mildly surprised. "Oh, as an example, your first reflex was probably to hear that question as impolite and perhaps indicative of...further difficult behavior, yes? Even if you overrode that reflex a moment later, it still influences your opinion. It wouldn't occur to me to see the question that way. I was just saying that I'd met very few people as old as you before leaving my village."

"And therefore," Mackenzie said, unperturbed, "someone your age is reasonably declared an adult, because you grew up not thinking you'd ever reach my age."

"That's...probably not the only reason for the difference in our societies' ages of majority," Daniel said, "but yes, I'm saying that even something like age can be seen as both objective and subjective because of the social connotations that it carries. Holding me to the standards of one society while accepting me as a representative of another is rather bizarre."

Mackenzie paused, then raised his eyebrows. "You're an intelligent young man, Daniel."

Daniel nodded, shrugging once. "I'd hope so--the assumption is that my intellectual contributions would compensate for the combative and tactical skills I lack."

"The environment helps in that regard, I suppose?"

"Of course," Daniel said. "Learning from people who are more expert than I am, surrounded by texts and relics of ancient cultures... It's an excellent learning environment."

"What about before, when you were on Abydos?"

"I was talking about when I was on Abydos," he said, even though he hadn't been, just to be difficult.

This seemed to give Mackenzie pause again. It was only a minor victory, though, because he nodded only a second later. "That's right--you studied under your parents before you started working here." He hesitated, and Daniel started preparing a good answer to a question about their death when the doctor said, "What about the environment of the SGC?"

Predicting Dr. Mackenzie and keeping up with him wasn't easy. If Daniel hadn't been worried about passing this evaluation and proving that nothing was amiss in his brain or whatever they were looking for, he might have respected that about the man.

"Similar things," Daniel settled on saying. "Teachers, resources, challenges. New experiences."

"But there's additional urgency here, isn't there?" Mackenzie said. "You chose to stay at the SGC to accomplish specific goals beyond gathering knowledge."

"That's true," Daniel said. "I'd like to help in the fight against the Goa'uld and, of course, to find my family."

"How close would you say we've come in accomplishing those goals?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Uh...well...we've made...progress. If, uh...if you want me to list the ways that the SGC has advanced since the program started..."

"No, that won't be necessary," Mackenzie said. "But, whether or not we're better armed--with weapons or knowledge--would you say we're any closer to defeating the Goa'uld or finding your family than we were two years ago?"

Not exactly, Daniel thought immediately, thinking of what Teal'c had implied, about how the war would be won but perhaps not for a long time. He wondered if the psychiatrist could hear the lie when he cleared his throat and said, "Yes. I--I think every...additional ally and scrap of information opens our eyes to...to new avenues that will eventually lead us closer to our goal--and allies, information, and technology are all things we've gained in the last few years."

He'd said almost the exact same thing a few weeks ago to a new recruit in the linguistics office. It was true, he thought, but it was also propaganda, and if someone made him say it much more before they made any tangible progress in accomplishing those goals, it was going to start to lose its meaning. None of them knew much of anything beyond what they were doing at any given moment, and they believed they would eventually succeed because they had to.

"All right, then. Have you given any thought to what you'll do if you succeed in those goals?" Mackenzie said, as if reading his mind and picking the question he least wanted to hear.

"Well..." Daniel said, scrambling for an answer and sensing that whatever control he'd ever had over the conversation was quickly being lost. "I...think...it's better to concentrate on reaching them first. The SGC has made great strides, but we're still only two years into a war that no one has waged successfully for millennia, not on this scale."

"So what does the SGC mean to you, Daniel?"

"It means Stargate Command," he said, then berated himself for such a stupidly facetious answer. He could see, too, from Mackenzie's face, that it had been the wrong thing to say, so he amended, "It's, uh...the seat of organized human efforts against enemies throughout the galaxy. It's the front line of...knowledge and exploration and technology."

Mackenzie nodded. "And what is your goal? A personal goal this time--I think you've recited enough from the SGC recruitment literature for one session, don't you?"

Yi shay. "As I said, I want to find my family and--"

"But what do you look forward to? What are your plans for the future?"

Daniel frowned. "The future...covers a lot of time..."

"Say...in ten years," said Mackenzie. "What do you expect to be doing as a twenty-six-year-old man?"

"Well, that...depends on what happens before then," Daniel said, wary. Who would ask someone his age a question like that? "Circumstances are always changing. I don't know what the state of the war will be in ten years or ten weeks, or how I'll...have to adjust as a result."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No," Daniel countered, "I just don't like making decisions without all the facts, which is what you're asking me to do."

Mackenzie pursed his lips but then conceded, "Let me rephrase, then. I'm asking for a best-case scenario--your personal ideal of a future, if you will. Have you given any thought to what you want to do when your role in this war is over, whenever that might be?"

"You're making the assumption that it will ever be 'over.'"

Mackenzie leaned back in his seat. "So you don't believe the war will ever end."

"That's not...what I said," Daniel said, trying to sound like he wasn't backtracking. Because he wasn't. "Either way, we know already that the Goa'uld aren't our only enemies, nor are they the only reason our program of exploration exists."

"Assume your family is safe and the Goa'uld are defeated. You'll remain here on Earth, at Stargate Command, because your role here will never be finished?"

"Well...I don't...know right now. I'm leaving all possibilities open."

"I see," Mackenzie said noncommittally, giving no clues about whether or not that had been the right answer. "Now, you brought up something else earlier--that you grew up not believing you'd reach an age as advanced as even the older personnel here."

"Yes...I suppose," Daniel said. "I didn't think of it in those terms as a child, obviously--"

"No, children often don't think too hard about their own mortality," Mackenzie agreed. "Why should they? They have their lives ahead of them."

"Right," Daniel said, unsure where this was leading but suspecting strongly that he was walking into some sort of ambush.

"You, on the other hand," Mackenzie said, "are trying to enter into an occupation that could well be one of the most dangerous on this planet."

"R...right," Daniel repeated. "Well. I'm sure you're also aware of the many restrictions on me."

"I'm aware," Mackenzie said, and then, abruptly, "Tell me, Daniel: do you expect to reach my age? Not even that--would you say you are likely to reach, say, Colonel O'Neill's age, or even Major Carter's?"

"Uh," Daniel said. 'Yes' would sound overconfident and feel a little false even to himself; 'no' wasn't true either, and would sound pessimistic. Floundering for an answer to a question he'd never considered directly before, he countered, "Do you ask all the personnel here what their life expectancy is, Doctor?"

"Most people here are at the height of their careers already or are well into their chosen lifestyle. Most are not sixteen years old."

"General Hammond's orders were not for me to speak with a child psychologist," Daniel said stiffly. "If he believes I'm qualified to act as an adult, I would appreciate being treated as such."

"I'm trying to treat you as a unique individual," Mackenzie said. "Perception of age can be subjective, but it's an objective measure, too. You are different from others on this base--you are younger, and--being healthy and having access to the best medical care in the world--you have more years to live ahead of you. That's a fact, not a condescension."

"Well, technically," Daniel said, "since I've died by your clinical definition more than almost anyone here, even before I tried to join a frontline team, I wouldn't call it a certainty or a fact."

If he had been less uncomfortable, he might have remembered not to be flippant. He might also have realized before opening his mouth that statements like that tended not to improve his chances of being approved for frontline teams. Jack was a bad influence on him, he decided.

"That's not what I'd call an optimistic outlook on your future," Mackenzie said blandly.

"I'm just stating a fact, Doctor, not a...a wish or a prediction for the future. With the SGC's protective measures, I'll be safer than I could be in any other capacity that a person in my position could reasonably choose." Daniel heard himself becoming defensive and said more calmly, "Is this really relevant to the SGC, or to how I'll perform in the field?"

Pulling off his glasses, Mackenzie said, "Whatever you feel or think at your desk can influence what you do in the field. More importantly, I'm a doctor, and I'm not just here to sign a form saying that you're approved for SG-1."

"With all due respect," Daniel said, throwing caution away and giving in to impatience, "I'm required to speak to you as one of the active field personnel, not as a patient in therapy. If you feel I'm not competent to act as a member of SG-1 again, then I should go and find someone to fill my spot on short notice for tomorrow morning's mission."

That earned him a wry smile. "Was that a reminder of how well you've established yourself here? How many times you've already joined SG teams, despite your unusual circumstances?"

Daniel tilted his head. "Not very subtle, huh."

"All right," Mackenzie said, and seemed to acquiesce, or at least try a different line of questioning. "What do you know about the planet where SG-1 is going tomorrow?"

Was this a test of how well he knew his job? It would have been much more reasonable for Robert or Jack or the general to judge that, but Daniel decided that an objective assessment of a planet couldn't be used against him. "The planet is designated PY3-948. The MALP showed samples of text that seems to be a mixture of Latin and Goa'uld."

"And is that significant?"

"The System Lords' major language has remained remarkably well-conserved over thousands of years--and light-years--so it's unlikely that the System Lords spoke a dialect as different as the one we see on PY3-948. We've seen human languages influenced by Goa'uld, which usually suggests the people had contact with the Goa'uld but are no longer under their rule, since it's often forbidden to speak the 'language of the gods' while the 'gods' are still there."

"But what makes this planet particularly interesting?" Dr. Mackenzie asked.

"It seems that Goa'uld is the language base," Daniel explained. "In other words, it looks more like a human-influenced Goa'uld dialect. While the direction of linguistic influence doesn't necessarily correlate with political dominance, this is still something we rarely see. It could be that there's a minor Goa'uld there who's had very little contact with the System Lords."

"That's quite a claim, based on a few words of evidence."

Daniel shrugged. "It's a suggestion, not a claim. It could also be that there's a human civilization that's adopted a mix of Goa'uld and Proto-Italic as their own language. We won't know what's actually there until we go and see--that is," he added, "unless you keep me from going."

"I'll be speaking with General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill in about an hour. Frankly, given your history, I don't think they'll stop you from going through the Stargate tomorrow," Mackenzie said--Daniel barely stopped himself from sighing aloud in relief--"but don't forget that I'm on base a few days each week. You know where to find me if you ever need to, for any reason at all."

"Yes, Doctor. Thank you," Daniel said, knowing he wouldn't be back until the next time someone forced him to--hopefully, not until the next annual evaluation.

"Good luck on your mission, then," Dr. Mackenzie said.

XXXXX

21 September 1999; SG-1 Locker Room, SGC; 1000 hrs

"Daniel," Sam's voice said from the shower behind him.

"Yeah, hold on a minute," Daniel said, still bent over his boot to tie the laces before reaching for his jacket. "Do you need something?"

"You'll never figure it out," Sam whispered.

Surprised, Daniel straightened and started to turn around, only to find no one there.

"Daniel?" Sam said. "You dressed?"

He whipped around again to see her in the doorway to the locker room, her back to him and the door pushed open a crack to let her voice through. "Wh-what? Yeah. Uh...Sam?"

She turned to face him then. "Hey. Ready? The general wants us in the briefing room." Daniel stared at her, then turned around one more time. Still no one there. When he'd untwisted himself again, Sam was giving him an odd look. "What are you doing?"

"Um," Daniel said, unsettled. "Were you just in here?"

"About ten minutes ago, yeah," she pointed out, her brow wrinkling. "I grabbed my stuff and went to the women's showers so you guys could stay in here, remember?"

"I thought I heard someone say..." he started, then stopped, realizing that of course she was unlikely to have been in the showers while he was sitting in here changing. "Uh...never mind. I must be hearing... I don't know what I'm thinking."

She smiled and gestured him out the door. "I'm still kind of rattled by those dead Goa'uld we found on the planet. You too, huh? You're probably just thinking too hard about it--"

"I'll figure it out," he snapped defensively, pulling his jacket on.

Sam frowned at him. "Uh. O...kay. I'm sure that's what we'll be talking about at the briefing--how they died and all. What did Teal'c say they were called again?"

A rush of air slipped past him. Daniel shivered, but, when nothing was there, relaxed again. "The Linvris," he said.

XXXXX

24 September 1999; Infirmary, SGC; 1500 hrs

"Daniel? Are you listening?"

"Uh, yes," Daniel said, even though he hadn't been, exactly. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Instead of asking it again, Mackenzie said, "You look tired."

"I didn't sleep well." He was on the defensive already, but that was his own fault for not paying attention, so he tried to look as confident as he could while sitting sideways on a hospital bed in bare feet. "I can never get used to overnight stays in the infirmary--"

A Stargate began to spin.

Not really, though, because it was coming from the direction of Janet's office. It was fine. He could ignore it.

"How are you feeling?" Mackenzie said.

"Fine," he said. "Dr. Fraiser did a lot of tests yesterday and today, and--and she said I'm fine."

Mackenzie nodded. "I'm glad to hear that. However...Dr. Rothman found you unconscious yesterday morning in the office that you share with him, correct? I just need to make sure that wasn't caused by anything we should be worried about."

("Jack, listen, I think they're trying to enter by infiltration."

"Through...the archaeology supply closet?")

"Like I said," Daniel repeated, "I was tired. I didn't sleep well."

"Before or after you were brought to the infirmary yesterday? You implied it was the latter, but if you've had anything on your mind you'd like to discuss..."

"Um...both, maybe, but that's not...Doctor, I just want to go back to work."

"Well, as I'm sure you know, you're not going back to work just yet," Mackenzie reminded him. "Dr. Fraiser's orders were that you could leave, but only with Colonel O'Neill, and for the purpose of rest only."

"Right," he said. "Yes. I know that. Is there something else?"

"I did have a few questions, actually," Mackenzie said. "I understand that on your mission three days ago, you found a room with several deceased Goa'uld."

"Yes. Nine," Daniel confirmed, his skin prickling at the reminder. There was something they were all missing--something he knew he could figure out if only he could finish translating that tablet with the Latin/Goa'uld writing. There was an attack plan on it, after all, and if nothing else, they needed to know what was written on it to be ready, and that wasn't even counting the other odd things since then.

What if it wasn't an attack against the System Lords? What if it was against them?

No, he was being foolish. The Linvris were dead. Jack was already halfway to thinking he was cracking apart, even if no one voiced the thought, and Sam was looking worried and Teal'c looking lost the way Teal'c was never supposed to look. And Daniel knew he must have been imagining (hallucinating) the event horizon in the closet, because it sounded ridiculous once it stopped making his heart try to leap from his chest.

Perhaps he did need some rest. He wasn't crazy. Jack said so, too. As long as he remembered that, he would stay not crazy.

"Daniel?"

"What?" Yi shay, he'd missed the question again. "I'm...I'm sorry, I--"

"That's all right," Mackenzie said. "Are you--"

"I'm fine," he said again, forcing himself to smile in a way that probably failed to be reassuring at all. "Could you, uh, repeat the question, please?"

"What you saw in that chamber...did it bother you, seeing those Goa'uld there?"

Daniel tilted his head. "They were dead. We didn't even have to kill them. Why would I...?"

"I realize that," Mackenzie said, his brow furrowed. "But it's been a stressful time recently, hasn't it? And encountering corpses can be unsettling."

He almost laughed before he could help himself, and it took some effort to bring it under control. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to laugh about dead people. "The smell was startling," he allowed. "I'm not used to that, seeing bodies that have been dead for so long without any sort of preservation. But the bodies didn't bother me. Well, a little, at first, because I was surprised, but I've seen others that were worse."

There were those Jaffa who had been lightning-burned by Oma Desala, for one, and various people who'd been staff-blast-burned. It was odd how so many dead bodies he'd seen had been burned. Sometimes they'd just been shot, though. And Seth hadn't been burned either--he'd just been smashed until he broke.

"Not Seth; his host. Every Goa'uld needs a host."

Daniel turned around, looking for the source of the voice. There was no one behind him (just cameras and speakers everywhere), so he took a deep breath and turned back.

He froze. The Goa'uld was back.

Dr. Mackenzie had paused in writing something and was watching him. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Daniel denied, pretending he didn't see the corpse of the Linvris that hovered even now behind the doctor like a blurry spirit (spirit, maybe they're just invisible so no one else can see them). They wouldn't believe him, anyway. Because it wasn't real. Not real. "It's...nothing."

"All right," Mackenzie said calmly. "Did something happen yesterday in your office? Something you saw or heard that could have caused your collapse?"

A wormhole was activating somewhere. Not really, of course, but it took all of his control to stay where he was seated without reacting. "No," he lied. "Nothing happened. Can I go?"

There was a hesitation, and then, "Colonel O'Neill's wearing a hole in the floor outside," Mackenzie finally said. "If you're sure nothing's bothering you--"

"I'm sure," Daniel lied again. "I'm just tired. Dr. Fraiser said it's okay, as long as you say so."

"Then I'll let you stay at home with the colonel and rest for a few days. But I need to speak with you before you come back to work--you don't have a mission for a while, correct?"

He had no idea when SG-1 was next up on the exploration rotation, but he nodded anyway and said, "Yes. I mean, no, I don't think we have a mission."

"Talk to the colonel or your friends if you feel uneasy about anything at all, and, of course, you can always call me or Dr. Fraiser, or have Colonel O'Neill call us."

"Daniel," the Goa'uld said.

Daniel took another look at Mackenzie to make sure he really didn't hear, then forced himself to ignore it, as well. He slid off the bed and nodded. "Yes, Doctor. Thank you."

Jack came in while he was in the middle of tying his shoes. Sam and Teal'c were at the doorway, too, and Robert behind them, but no one else entered.

"Ready to go?" Jack asked him, ignoring Mackenzie so completely that, for a brief, heart-stopping moment, Daniel wondered if he'd imagined the psychiatrist's presence in the chair, if his mind really was coming apart. Then Dr. Mackenzie stood, Jack gave him a curt, "Doc," and Daniel breathed again. He forgot to answer the question, though, so Jack said, more uncertainly, "Daniel?"

"Uh," he said, straightening and looking directly at Jack's face. He wasn't sure if the Goa'uld was still there, somewhere, but if he didn't look at it, he wasn't acknowledging it was real, because it wasn't. Usually, he could tell. "Yes," he said, and it must have sounded the way he felt, because Jack suddenly looked like he might change his mind. "Yes," he tried again.

"Okay," Jack said, and Daniel didn't even try to hide his sigh of relief. "Go and wait for me by the door, kid. I'm just going to talk to Fraiser and let her know we're checking out."

Daniel nodded and made his way to the exit.

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked immediately, reaching up as if to rub his arm. Daniel stepped away before he could think about it. She might have noticed or thought it was by accident; he wasn't sure. Teal'c watched him and noticed, so he shied an extra step away from both of them.

"I'm okay," he said. "Sorry I scared you, Robert," he added, because no one was acknowledging Robert standing in the background, apart from SG-1.

"No, no, it's...uh, just, you know," Robert stammered. "Get...better. Or whatever."

Sam exchanged a glance with Teal'c, and for the first time, Daniel wondered if he was imagining that, too, because it wasn't unusual for Robert to keep his distance a little from a team where he didn't belong, but now Daniel wasn't sure. The thing was, he wasn't sure if he was imagining Robert or imagining Sam and Teal'c, or all of them. Jack was focusing on Daniel alone, which wasn't odd under the circumstances, but if he didn't talk to one of the hallucinations (not hallucinations, you don't know that), then how was Daniel supposed to tell?

Jack came out. Daniel walked away with him, not looking at the others, in case they weren't real after all. He didn't listen to the Linvris corpses, either, but he also didn't try to stop them from following the whole way, because Jack didn't notice them as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Daniel," the Goa'uld said.

Daniel shook his head. Jack glanced at him, and he stopped, because he was in control. He clamped his lips shut and promised not to answer when the Goa'uld spoke. If Jack spoke, it was okay. Jack was real, so if he spoke--

"You're all alone, Daniel."

"Wh-what?" Daniel said, frozen in place.

"I said we're almost home," Jack said.

The voice from Jack's seat was distorted--voice, words, sound, meaning, everything distorted. By the time he gathered enough courage to turn and look, Jack's mouth wasn't moving anymore and he was watching the road, and Daniel didn't know if Jack had really spoken, or which one he'd said, if any, or none, or all, or maybe they were all the same at the same time and he was too far gone (tired just tired) to realize it. Maybe he should answer, but what if Jack hadn't said anything, but what if he was supposed to answer and didn't and made Jack think he was crazy?

Jack stopped the car at a light and looked at him again. Immediately, his expression became worried, and he said, "Hey, it's okay. Why don't you take a nap on the way home?"

"Sleep, Daniel," the Goa'uld agreed from somewhere--hiding from sight, maybe. "You will not see us when we come."

Jack's eyes glowed. Daniel flinched and reached for the door handle before Jack lunged to the side and grabbed him and said, "No, n--what the hell...Daniel?"

His voice was back to normal now, and his eyes, too. Daniel swallowed and breathed a "sorry" and let Jack peel his fingers away from the door handle, then folded his hands under his arms. He turned toward the window and leaned against the door, and if he could ignore Jack's looks, he could ignore the Goa'uld whispering to him, too.

XXXXX

26 September 1999; Psychiatry Clinic, SGC; 0900 hrs

"Daniel? Are you listening?"

"Daniel, we are listening."

Daniel wrenched his attention back to Dr. Mackenzie. Janet was watching. He thought she was, anyway, but when he turned to ask her something, sometimes she'd left. Maybe. Or not. Janet had a daughter, but Cassie wasn't--Nirrti had been here, but they'd gotten her--

He shook his head. He was fine. He was talking to the doctor.

Mackenzie seemed about to say something, then stopped and put his chart down on the desk behind him. It was face-down, Daniel noticed, and he had to force himself not to stare at it as he wondered what the man had been writing about him there. "Did you hear what I asked?"

"Um," Daniel said, but had to admit, "No, I... Wh-what was the...?"

"We were talking about how your mission went last week," Mackenzie said patiently. "We never got to finish that conversation before. Where did you go again?"

For a moment, his mind blanked completely. "It..." he started. "PY...uh. It was..."

"PY3..." Mackenzie prompted.

"948," he finished quickly, unhappy with the implication that he didn't know the designation of a planet to which he'd gone himself, less a week ago, when they went there on the planet, and if he'd forgotten at first, he'd have remembered in a second. He was tired, and he couldn't be blamed for that. It was hard to sleep with Goa'uld watching him.

"No wonder," the Goa'uld taunted him. "No wonder they all think you--"

"What happened on that mission?" Mackenzie said, recalling his attention.

"What did you do, Daniel, what did you--"

"Nothing happened," Daniel said quickly.

"I don't necessarily mean what went wrong--"

"Nothing went wrong!" he insisted.

Mackenzie paused, then said, "I'm sorry. I may have phrased that poorly. I was wondering about the mission in general--anything good, bad, or neutral."

"Right. Okay," Daniel said, taking a deep breath and looking at his knees. "We found a meeting place for the Linvris, a group of Goa'uld."

"Why did you tell them?"

"What else happened then?"

Confused, Daniel swallowed and said, "Why did...what?"

"You see, Daniel, what he is doing to you?"

A sound behind him caught his attention, and he almost started to turn, but then he recognized it as the sound of locking chevrons, as on an active Stargate. Clenching his hands on the seat of the chair, he looked at the carpet instead, forced down a sudden surge of fear (irrational fear, that's all, nothing to be afraid of), and refused the urge to turn around, because there was no Stargate in the infirmary where there wasn't a Stargate. He was tired. That was all. He wasn't on a bed now, but there was one to the right or left but the 'gate was opening.

"Daniel."

Not real. Don't answer. Not real not real not

Mackenzie's face moved into his line of sight. "Daniel? Did you hear what I said?"

"Um," Daniel said, letting his eyes slide away. "I...I don't..."

"Can you tell me what else happened?" He gripped the seat tighter, trying to remember what they'd just been talking about, but he kept losing the thought partway through and couldn't catch it before it got pulled away again and he lost it. The computers stopped the noise, so he stopped listening to the chevrons. When the pause stretched out, Mackenzie repeated, "What else happened on the mission to PY3-948?"

"Yes," he said. "Right. Um, it...we were in a building. It was a meeting place for the Linvris. They're a group of Goa'uld--the SGC is going to kill the Goa'uld. So that's why we should participate, because it's going to be war." See? Fine. Fine.

The doctor nodded slowly. "That's right. Let's go back to the Goa'uld you saw on PY3-948. What else did you find there?"

"On the--I found a tablet," Daniel said. "The hosts were dead, and the stone didn't work. It said they were going to attack by infiltration, so...so, uh. Then we left."

"--found a tablet," the Goa'uld was mocking as he explained, "and the hosts were dead, and--"

"I'm sorry, the stone?"

An unstable vortex whooshed out from behind him. Daniel flinched but didn't turn.

"Daniel?"

"Stop that," he said without thinking, then cleared his throat. "S-sorry. Sorry. What did you...?"

Mackenzie continued to stare at him (don't let him see careful careful), then said, "That's all right. You found a page-turning device, correct? SG-1 says you tried to read more of the tablet, but the device didn't seem to work."

Daniel frowned. "Why are they talking to you about me? What are they saying?"

"I read it from their report after the mission, that's all. Do you remember what happened after you came back last week?"

"Of--of course," he said. He wasn't an idiot. Jack said he was a little off, that was all--he was just off a little off. "Robert...found me in the office, and they made me stay in the...Janet made me stay in the infirmary for a couple of days, because I...I was... Because."

"Sleeping dead sleeping, because you were scared, and now they're talking about you--"

"That's right. And then you went home with Colonel O'Neill, the day before yesterday."

"I...went home," Daniel said. "Yes." There had been another Goa'uld, right there, in Jack's house. He'd told them what the Linvris were after, and no one had believed him, and now look now there had been a Goa'uld inside Jack's house. He wasn't sure how it had escaped, but he couldn't say it, or they would think he was insane, and he wasn't (was).

"Can you tell me what happened yesterday, at home?"

"We were playing chess," he said, forcibly bringing his focus back. "I kept losing. I don't know. Jack was letting me, I think, but I was tired. We had--Shifu was crying once when we were playing, but--he's on the...there's a planet with a temple, so--"

Chevron engaged.

Was this the third? Fourth? Was it an outgoing wormhole? Was it more than one incoming?

"Was Shifu there yesterday?"

"Of course not," Daniel said. The doctor was trying to trick him. "The Mother took him. Oma Desala, he's not with me anymore, and Kheb was burned."

"So you were alone with the colonel this time," the doctor asked. "While you were playing chess. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Nothing," Daniel lied.

"Are you sure?" Mackenzie asked. "Colonel O'Neill was very worried when he called."

"I'm not crazy," he lied. Said. Not lied.

"No," Mackenzie agreed (lied). "I didn't say you were. I just want to know what happened."

"I...I thought I heard--" Another chevron locked, close enough to his head to make him jump and turn before he could stop himself. A wormhole event horizon rippled on the wall, and he could feel his heart start to race as another one of the Linvris walked out.

"Daniel. We are inside."

"Daniel? Are you all right?"

He jerked his eyes back to Dr. Mackenzie but couldn't figure out what the expression on his face meant. "Wh-what? Yes. I'm. Yes. I'm fine." Mackenzie didn't notice the event horizon at all, which meant it couldn't be real, it wasn't real, so he ignored the blue swirling at the edge of his vision and pretended the dead Goa'uld wasn't inching toward him every second, reaching for him and trying to implant him, ay naturu...

"You're seeing something now, aren't you?" Mackenzie asked (digging digging digging he knows don't let him). "Is someone else talking to you now?"

It wasn't real not real not real--

Daniel shook his head, wanting to say 'no' out loud, but he glanced to the side and the dead Goa'uld was only a foot away and towering over him, and he knew he was shivering, knowing any second he would feel the Goa'uld's hand on his shoulder, even though it wasn't there. He gulped for air, starting to feel dizzy--

"Take a breath and hold it," Mackenzie was saying, and now he was only a foot away, too, crouched in front of his chair. "Daniel, you're fine. Just take one breath--" Daniel sucked in a shallow breath, feeling it shudder into his lungs. "Count to ten--one...two...three..."

The breath whooshed out too soon, but he couldn't help it, and he gasped in again.

"That's all right, Daniel."

"We are coming for you, Daniel."

"One more time...four...five...six..."

By the time he managed to slow his breaths, the event horizon had disappeared--the Goa'uld, too, so maybe it had gone through the wormhole and would wait until Mackenzie wasn't around to come back. Daniel was boneless, lightheaded and shaking so hard he needed both hands to hold onto the cup of water Mackenzie offered him.

He finally managed to take a sip but then felt too sick to drink the rest. Mackenzie took it and replaced it on the table. "Is that what happened before?" the doctor asked.

"Before?" Daniel repeated weakly (weak weak weak), wiping moisture from his cheek but unsure how it got there. "What?"

"Last week, in your office, and then at home while you were playing chess. You heard something, or maybe saw something that--"

"I was tired," he pleaded. "I just...I was tired."

Mackenzie took his glasses off, laying them carefully on the table. "I don't doubt that, Daniel. Colonel O'Neill mentioned you haven't been sleeping well."

"Why has Jack been telling you all that? Are you talking about me?" he said, wanting to be angry but mostly just worried about what the Linvris were planning to do when they finally managed to infiltrate. He had to warn them.

"Your friends are all worried about you, that's all," Mackenzie said. "Daniel, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Again?" Daniel said.

"A different one. Are you familiar at all with the term 'schizophrenia?'"

Something brushed past him, and he swallowed hard. "Um...no. Schiz...schizein...phren..." Daniel gasped, realizing. "They're splitting my mind. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The Goa'uld, that's what they do, you see? It's two minds, so it's like a...a schism of the...brains--"

"No," Dr. Mackenzie said. "That's not what I mean. That's not what the term means in English. I'd like you to listen carefully, all right, Daniel? You--"

"They're trying to get in," Daniel blurted, leaning forward.

Dr. Mackenzie sat back carefully in his own chair.

"He knows."

"Who's trying to get in?"

"Already here."

"They're already here," he whispered urgently. "The Goa'uld of the Linvris. They were trying to...trying to, to enter by infiltration. They got in, and they must be able to...it's their kalach, maybe, not their bodies, their kalach, I don't know how, but that's why you can't see them. They keep coming to use me as a host. Every Goa'uld needs a host. That's why I'm here, because the Goa'uld wanted hosts, and I came here."

Mackenzie picked his chart back up but didn't write anything else. "Did someone tell you that the Linvris want to use you as a host?"

"Daniel," the Goa'uld said into his ear.

"Stop it," Daniel hissed, not turning around but leaning forward away from it.

"Daniel?" Mackenzie said.

"Stop!" he begged, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging his knees to his chest.

"Daniel," the Goa'uld said again, whispering. "You have to stop him."

"No, go away!" Daniel yelled into his knees, then stood up. His vision abruptly went dark, and he only realized he was on the ground when he had to squint upward to see the Goa'uld's empty eye sockets beyond the spots dancing in his eyes.

"Sir, he's going to hurt himself."

"Daniel, don't listen to him."

Thinking frantically, he looked for the something he could use to protect himself. He pushed himself to his knees, shrugged someone off, and grabbed the legs of the nearest chair even as the Goa'uld advanced toward him.

"Daniel, please put that down--"

"Daniel, he's trying to hurt you--"

"Which one," he said breathlessly, lifting the chair a few inches. "Which...which one are you--" A pair of hands pulled his from the chair, and his trembling limbs surged back into action as he struggled against his attacker, but only managed to pull away for a second before someone grabbed him again. "Ay, na nay. No!"

"Daniel, you're safe, but I need you to--"

"Daniel, he's lying, so I need you to--"

"Rhe'u, senamiu--na nay, please!"

"Sir, should we--"

"Go ahead, two milligrams."

"No. No," Daniel moaned, his muscles loosening against his will and his tongue growing thick and awkward in his mouth as something burned through his veins. "No, please, please, don't...don' let him--"

"Daniel," the Goa'uld told him as his already dizzy mind slowed to a stop. "We are coming, Daniel. Sleep."

---

From the next chapter ("Schizein"):

"Daniel...has a grandfather on Earth," Rothman said, sounding reluctant. "Nicholas Ballard--we've known about him for a while. He made a big scene in the archaeology field about thirty years ago--claimed to see giant beings of mist who spoke to him in Mayan and were trying to teleport him away using a...a skull. He's rumored to be schizophrenic," he added, looking at the table.