High and Dry
by Pho
Jack O'Neill sighed as he slid down into the warm water. The Doc had promised him that after seven days, he could take a bath - a *real* bath, not the infirmary variety which alternated between the dreaded 'sponge' torture or the quick rinse in the metal tubs that the SGC designated as 'bath tubs'. No lounging in those; not only were they too short for his height, there was always someone around to knock on the door checking to see if he'd drowned yet.
*That* wouldn't happen here - neither the drowning nor the knocking. And Janet, bless her chilly little stethoscope, would never know that he'd timed his seven days from the moment of their return from Bedrosia. So maybe it hadn't been a *full* seven days, and four o'clock in the morning was probably an odd time for a bath, but he had no intention of waiting any longer.
Jack winced as the water briefly stung some of his more severe injuries. Thanks to Daniel he'd escaped truly serious injury, although he'd never quite figured out how the younger man had gotten Rygar to switch off the juice. The scientist had turned a deep shade of red, disavowed any action on his part and disappeared into his lab on the only occasion Jack had tried to thank him.
The colonel slipped an air pillow under his neck, reminding himself to tell Carter that she'd been right, Great Aunt Edna's odd gift had finally come in handy, and savored the warmth of the water. He could feel his muscles relaxing, and wished like hell that his mind would relax as well.
All he could think of, had been thinking of for seven hellish days now, had been Daniel, Carter and those damn cages. He'd known immediately that Rygar was not a man with an open mind. Jack had run into entirely too many of those in Iran not to recognize the signs. But Carter and Daniel, particularly Daniel, had simply not gotten it, preferring to stick to their blindly narrow vision of the 'why can't we all just get along' world.
"Not fair, Jack." The man chided himself. Carter had stuck to strictly scientific truths, which meant nothing to Rygar who considered them blasphemy. And Daniel had tried to equate their deity to one of Earth's ancient myths, a subject which had gone over even less well with Rygar than science. And the only thing their honesty had earned them was an even more furious adversary than they'd started with. That, and some shock treatments for Dr. J.
Jack shuddered involuntarily, remembering his terror when the Bedrosian commander had forced Daniel from his cage and dragged him from the tent. Years of standing watches in all kinds of weather had given the colonel a strong sense of time, and he'd known that Rygar had had his teammate for well over an hour. That, and the forty-two - yes, he'd counted them - choked back screams that told him exactly what sort of time Daniel was having.
In spite of everything, the younger man had done exceptionally well. He'd followed the storyline that Jack had led with of only three in their party, and had never for a minute given Teal'c away. Then he'd saved Jack's skin - literally the older man thought as he rinsed soap off a stinging burn. Damn fine job! Jack could think of nothing but praise for the way the archaeologist had handled himself on Bedrosia. The paperwork had been turned in to General Hammond for a letter of commendation to go into Daniel's personnel file, and Jack was sure the general would approve it. So why was he so uneasy?
"Because, you dip, your teammate was tortured and you couldn't help him." Jack winced as his snarky subconscious came out to play. Well, when he was right he was right, and Jack knew that 'having your team tortured in front of you' ranked right up there with 'being tortured yourself'. *Not* on his top ten things to do in his lifetime list. But was that *all*? Jack pondered the question as he absently added hot water to his bath. Daniel hadn't seemed to have suffered any lasting harm from the experience, but, Jack admitted to himself, he hadn't really seen much of the younger man since their escape.
A low groan escaped the colonel's lips as he realized that *that* was what was bothering him. Daniel was MIA in the SGC. He'd been holed up in his lab, translating who knew what, reviewing status reports from other teams, being oh-so-helpful in the care and feeding of that Bedrosian kid - what was his name? Oh, yeah, Nyam. And, Jack thought dryly, checking on Teal'c's well-being to the point of driving the Jaffa to distraction. Not that Teal'c would admit such a thing, but he *had* mentioned Daniel's visits on several occasions.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' Jack's hand slapped the side of the tub hard, sending an innocent bottle of shampoo tumbling to the floor. 'Of all the stupid...' He'd been so wrapped up in his own delight at just how well his team had performed - again, that he hadn't seen the forest for the trees. Daniel wasn't military; he hadn't had the standard 'what-to-do-if-you're-captured-and-tortured-by-the-enemy' classes. This was new territory to the younger man, and Jack cursed himself silently for not realizing Daniel might need help coping with it.
Of course, Daniel had *died* a few times, but that didn't really count in this situation, particularly since the multiple resurrections had left him feeling physically whole and mentally rested, with one notable exception. 'Don't go there, Jack!' And, the military hadn't come up with a 'what-to-do-if-you're-killed-and-resurrected' class yet, so they were all broaching new territory there. He'd left the younger man high and dry on this one. Crap.
This Bedrosian mess was the first time Daniel had actually been tortured - if one didn't count old Fish-face and the false memories, and Daniel certainly had never looked at it that way. And while Jack was certain nothing pleasant had gone on during their three weeks under Hathor's loving care, even hypnosis had not revealed what had been done to them. Nope. No subconscious memories coming to the surface on that one. Shit.
Sighing and wincing, Jack eased his body from the comfort of the tub, and stared at himself in the mirror. Water drops ran down his chest unnoticed as he studied his eyes. Blind. He'd been so blind. Daniel was suffering, and he hadn't noticed. Grabbing the nearest towel, he dried off, careful to avoid those burns that were still tender. Glancing at the clock, he realized that it was past six A.M. Time for him to head off for another day at the office and well past time to seek out his teammate - no, his friend - and talk, really talk about what had happened on Bedrosia.