"I'm sorry. This area isn't open to the public." I ignore her words as I see *th..them*.
Where am I?
Better yet, *when* am I?
This can*not* be real.
B..but, but, they're here.
I feel Sam beside me, her head turning to see what it is that has caused me to shove aside the well-meaning hand of the museum employee.
"Daniel, what's going on?" Sam asked, concern heavy in her voice.
"No, this can't be real."
"Who are these people?" Sam tries again.
"They're my parents."
She's gonna say something else. Don't Sam, please don't. I move away from her, drawn to the drama unfolding before me like a moth to a flame.
Slow motion. It feels like slow motion.
This cannot be happening.
This is *not* real.
"N..No!"
Oh, God.
"*Get out of there, Mom. Get out of there, Dad.*"
The chain's breaking.
The coverstone's falling.
The screams. Dear God. The screams.
--Sam--
Something's really wrong here. New York Museum of Art? No, that can't be. No, Daniel. Not without me. Where is he going?
"I'm sorry. This area isn't open to the public." Daniel just pushed her hand aside. That's not like him. Wait. He's looking at those people working in the back of the room, surrounded by pillars. Holy Hannah, that's a big rock. What do you call it? ... Oh, yeah, a coverstone. What is wrong with Daniel? He really does not look good. I have to know.
"Daniel, what's going on?"
He doesn't even look at me, he's mesmerized by what's happening in front of us. "No, this can't be real."
"Who are these people, Daniel?" I really *have* to know.
"They're my parents."
I start to speak but he moves away. *His parents?* But didn't they die when he was a child?
No, Daniel, don't get any closer.
Oh dear God.
The coverstone is swaying, too much. That chain can't hold, not with the amount of sway and the weight of *that* rock. The physicist in me tells me to scream out a warning. I can't. Why can't I say anything? I stare, spellbound by this turn of events. Surely this isn't... Okay, Samantha, this is not real. Cannot be real. But Daniel... he's moving like he's seen a ghost. Perhaps a pair of ghosts. I tear my eyes from his face to look once more at the couple under the stone.
Oh, God, the chain's breaking.
They're screaming.
The coverstone falls. I cannot watch this.
As I turn away, Daniel screams.
Oh dear Lord, was *this* what he saw as a boy? Did he really have to see it again?
--Daniel--
*Noooooooo.*
I'm leaning on something. What? Oh, a display case. How?
Sam's voice reaches my ears. Oh, she must've moved me away from...from *that*.
Thank you, Sam.
I rub my eyes as I try to focus on her words. What *is* she saying? Time travel? No, please no! I can't deal with that. Not here, not now. What *is* she saying? Not time travel. I breathe a sigh of relief. Good. Not time travel. But what? Her words make no sense.
I have to know. "Oh, Sam. Please just, just tell me that this isn't real."
"No I don't think it is..." The rest of her words fade away as I hear their voices once more.
Not again.
Please not again.
--Sam--
I've just told him this isn't real, but I'm not sure he's really heard.
Where is he going?
Ah. Back towards the exhibit. The man's shouting instructions once more to the people controlling the coverstone. Well, this definitely proves my point - some sort of virtual reality machine. I wonder how it works?
Samantha, what are you saying? Those are Daniel's parents under that rock. Well, not really, but I don't know if I can convince Daniel of that.
Whoa. They *know* him. The man, I can't think of him as his father, just called him *Danny*. Daniel, don't get any closer.
Broken leg? Oh, Daniel, couldn't you have thought of anything better?
--Daniel--
They know me.
They actually know me.
*She* looks at me with that permanently puzzled look on her face. There's a faint smile, too. God, how I've wanted to see her smile at me again.
He called me Danny.
They're both looking at me with that...that parent look. The one that says *because I said so* without words. Broken leg? Couldn't I have thought of something better? They're not coming out. I can see that.
*She's* speaking to me. "You couldn't have hurt your leg too badly, dear. You're walking on it. We'll be out in a minute, sweetie."
Why am I backing away?
I've got to get them out!
Noooooooo.
Not again!
Please not again!
--Sam--
I turn my head away. I really cannot watch this again. The screams subside, but Daniel's cries still ring in my head.
Movement behind me.
People? Dressed in black? Who are they? What are they?
The noise of the *rescue* crew drags my attention back to Daniel. He looks as if he's going to be sick. I've got to get to him. I reach his side.
"Daniel, Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'll bet when this really happened you didn't have *this*," I nod toward the people in black, "audience." His eyes are so wide, his face so pale as he stares at our mysterious observers.
"Is it not wonderful?" The museum worker morphs into ... who, uh, what *is* that?
And Daniel, Daniel's eyes are so wild!
Gamekeeper?
What the...
Can't concentrate on *his* words, gotta keep an eye on Daniel.
--Daniel--
"There would be no pleasure from the game if there were no risk." The Keeper points over my shoulder as he speaks.
I can't believe *he* just said that.
No *risk*.
These are, were my parents, my only family. God. I..I'll show him. Taking a deep breath, I walk rapidly toward *them*. She smiles at me again. "Danny ... What are you doing?"
I grab their arms. "Come on."
For a moment, a brief, precious moment, I am pulling them to safety then my f..father speaks angrily, as they jerk out of my grasp. "Danny Jackson, you stop this right now. Jake, Jake, give me a hand here, please." A workman, my father's foreman if I remember correctly, physically picks me up and despite my struggles to be free, he carries me away from the pillars, away from the coverstone which is going to *fall*.
"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO ... Noooooooooo! ... GOD, NOOOO!"
--Sam--
Daniel's cries are horrible. He wrenches free of this Jake person and staggers toward us. "Damn you! Stop this game *now*!"
Holy Hannah, he's just grabbed this, this Keeper person by the lapel. If I didn't know better I'd think he was gonna hit him. ... At least I don't think Daniel'll hit him, but I..I'm not real sure. What *is* Daniel saying? He won't play anymore. I don't think that's a good idea. The drama's starting again.
"Daniel, what if..."
"No."
He stands firm as the Keeper tries to coerce him into playing, as the sounds of the falling coverstone echoes in the room. The Keeper eyes him in dismay. "You are indeed an obstinate race." What *does* that mean?
--Daniel--
Who does he think he is, playing with our minds like this?
He thinks this is a, a *game*.
That this *memory* is his for the taking to *share* with his residents, and, God, with Sam. She, of all people, shouldn't have to witness *this*. She, they don't know how my parents died, just that I was very young. I don't, didn't, want them to know.
She's got *that* look in her eyes. Ah, Sam, please, please, not from you, I don't want that look from you.
Damn him.
Damn him to hell!
W..What? Jack and Teal'c, here, now.
Oh God, please, please don't do this in front of *them*.
Please don't let them see.
--Sam--
Who does he think he is, playing with Daniel's mind like this?
I still remember when Mom died, it was such a, a relief. God that sounds awful, but she'd been in so much pain for so long with the cancer. Watching this, this travesty playing out before me, I can only catch a glimpse of what it must have been like for Daniel. He was what, four, five when *this* happened? I cannot even begin to imagine what this was like for a child that young.
And for this Keeper person to say he's got a chance to *fix* it? How cruel! Nothing will bring his parents back, and to actually be able to *save* them now would only bring Daniel more pain.
As if he needs more.
But ... I, I feel so selfish here, but Daniel solving this *may* be our only way out.
Holy Hannah!
The Colonel, Teal'c. Those uniforms ... where have they been? J..The Colonel's face looks very ... grim.
--Jack--
Whoa! Where are we now?
Thank God. Sam and Daniel. Safe. ... I think.
Daniel doesn't look well. I ask the obvious. "You guys all right?"
"Well, I'm not really sure to tell you the truth." Daniel's reply is stilted. Damn he's pale. Is he shaking? Not sure. Carter's watching him too. Just what the hell has this *keeper* done to him ... to them?
--Daniel--
It's over. For real this time. The *real* SGC is just beyond that Gate. Thank God the fake Hammond was too unreal or we might still be playing games in that, that place.
What's this?
The *Gamekeeper* is frantic with worry over his precious flowers. Good. Let *him* feel the pain and grief for a while.
That wasn't nice, Daniel.
Dammit, I'm a grown man. I don't always have to play nice.
Jack's watching me again. I can see it, even through his sunglasses. I wish he'd stop. He hasn't asked either ... yet. But he will, and sooner rather than later. And I'll have to tell him, he won't let go until he knows what happened here. But maybe, just this once, he'll leave it alone.
--Jack--
Daniel's finally finished making nice with the natives, forgiving everyone for everything. How *does* he do that? Better yet, *why* does he do that?
We're ready to leave, and Sam's giving him that look again, the one that says 'I'm so sorry', but she refused point blank to tell me what happened in that imaginary museum. Said it was Daniel's story to tell, when, and if, he chose.
I find myself watching him closely as the Keeper rushes past us in panic, worried silly about his plants. Uh oh. Daniel's noticed my scrutiny. His eyes meet mine and speak louder than words, 'Don't ask. Just don't ask.' Instead, I nod to the Keeper. "This *is* real this time, isn't it?" My question is aimed at Daniel, who's watching the Keeper with an unusual air of, what, satisfaction, and delight?
The Keeper's disgust and dismay are obvious.
Danny and I speak simultaneously, "It's real."
We head for the Stargate.
I take the lead, allowing him to follow in peace. For once, he's physically fine, but there are deep shadows in his eyes. Fine, Daniel. I won't ask ... now. But when we're home, debriefed, medically cleared, and rested ... *then* we will talk, just you and I.
Oh, yes, my young friend, we *will* talk.