Embedded Files
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 Jaffa foot. In they went, Jack taking the centre position, Carter to the left, Teal’c to the right, moving like the precise military team they were. The entrance foyer was a huge echoingly empty chamber, soft moonlight filtering in through glass windows set high in the cold white marble walls and gleaming on the polished marble floor. Jack was immediately struck by the unwelcoming feel of the place. No green plants, no brightly coloured rugs or even unsmiling family portraits on the walls. Only an elegant staircase, framed in gleaming bronze railings broke the sterility of the place. For the home of an artist, it gave the distinct atmosphere of a tomb. Jack pushed that unsavoury thought away.
“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 Jaffa climbed the marble steps, bearing a med kit and portable stretcher. “Let’s get Daniel loaded up and out of this mausoleum.”
“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 Jaffa’s side. In a small alcove at the back of the chamber stood three large shapes, some twelve feet by eight feet in size, covered by long yellow dust sheets. Teal’c had uncovered one of them and the two warriors stood staring in astonishment as they gazed upon the crystal clear depiction of their newly rescued friend and teammate.
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 Jaffa re-covering the panels, and he moved to follow Sam over to the banks of machinery.
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 ~
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