Wow! I'm overwhelmed by the great reviews and suggestions. This is the final chapter, and I'm honestly sorry to have it end. To those who have mentioned methods of communication, I have this excuse for not using more than what I have. I wanted to keep Daniel in the dark, both literally and figuratively. I wanted to create an environment in which Daniel has no way of knowing what is happening save through his senses of touch and smell. I also wanted him to wonder if his methods of communication were working, like when he speaks and knows that he must be making noise. That's not to say that I don't love the suggestions, because the idea of Jack spelling into Daniel's hand is quite intriguing. I don't know what the future holds for this story, but I have been known to do rewrites after some reflection, so be warned!
I'm beginning to think that this is going to be the way it ends up. Daniel Jackson, invalid.
What am I going to do? I can't very well live on my own. Guess I could live out my days here at the SGC. I mean, my disability did occur in the line of duty.
But then what? I can't expect everyone to place their lives on hold just because mine has come to a screeching halt.
I don't have the answers. I don't know if anyone does.
Something's up. I feel/sense a new presence. Touches all over—there must be a battalion of nurses. And then, underneath it all, I know that my team is there. The familiar odors penetrate everything, and I am calmed.
Okay, so what's going on? I feel hands on my arms and legs. Someone is placing something on my head. It feels like headphones. Real funny, guys.
That new presence. I can definitely smell him/her. Not a bad odor; just different from what I've become accustomed to. He/she is by my head, adjusting the headphones. Maybe he/she isn't in on the joke.
Expectation is making me breathe harder. I can feel my chest expanding faster. The hands tighten on my wrists and ankles, and the headphones are pressed hard onto my head. Ow.
Hey…what's going on? That kinda hurts. Some type of pressure on my head…no, in my head. Growing. I try to pull my hand away, but the fingers hold on tighter. I'm starting to get a little freaked out.
Okay, this really hurts. The pressure in my head is becoming much more intense. I know I'm panting. I think I'm moaning. You can stop any time now, guys.
Ahhh! Stop it! I mean it! Stop! Stop!
Someone's wiping my face. I'm too upset to decipher who it is. I can't believe how much that hurt. Whatever they were doing. I assume it was some type of treatment.
So far it hasn't helped. But maybe it'll take some time. I must be patient.
Again? Uh, no, I don't think so. That last little treatment hurt like hell and I'm no better, so…
No, don't hold me down. I'm not going through that again. There's got to be a better way…
No! I—can't—get—loose. I don't believe this. They've put me in restraints! Look guys, there really must be a better way.
They've put those damned headphones on me again. Please, not again!
Ahhh! It's—stronger—this—time! My head…my head! Stop! I don't think I can…
I must've passed out. I don't remember the torture…treatment…stopping. The headphones are gone.
My face is wet. Someone…
Sam. She's wiping my cheeks.
My throat's sore. Must've been using the ole vocal cords big time. I reach out and Sam instantly grabs my hand.
I'm again amazed at how soft her hands are. Their very softness soothes me. How does she keep them so feminine? She works as hard as anyone, and yet, hidden from us, is a woman who manages to keep the beauty of her gender while operating in situations where there can be no weaknesses or differences. I know that I'll never look at Sam the same way again.
Well, wasn't that a slip. Look at Sam. Funny how our language is filled with sensory words. Oh yeah. Real funny.
Now she's stroking my forehead. I know I'm sweaty. That can't be pleasant for her, but she's continuing. I turn my face into her hand, and I can smell my own perspiration on her skin. I lift my hand to push hers away. She lifts my hand to her lips and kisses it.
How does she know what to do? My sore throat tightens and my nose runs. I pull her hand to my face and place it against my cheek. My eyes squeeze shut and I hold my breath and Sam sits by my side, her hand pressed to my cheek, and I hope.
Something's happening. Dr. Fraiser has been fussing over me for quite some time. The new presence—the one of the wicked headphones—is also hovering. I've been waiting for another torture treatment but so far they haven't produced the headphones or the restraints.
Now Fraiser's spreading my eyelids wide apart. Probably shining that penlight of hers into my eyes. Kinda glad I can't see it. Ha. Ha. Bad joke.
But…wait. Wait a minute. I think…I think I saw something.
Doc! Doc! I feel her hand on mine. I find my eye; spread my eyelids apart; do it again!
She must have the penlight shining in my eye again. I feel it. It actually hurts my eye.
Wait…I see it! It's beautiful! A fuzzy, glowing little ball, so beautiful after all the darkness.
She shines the light in my other eye. Yeah! I see it again! I'm saying it over and over, I can see it! I can see it!
It's coming back. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I'm excited. The light is definitely getting brighter, and I'm beginning to hear whispers of noises. Squeaks at first, which drove me crazy until I realized that they were the wheels of the tray next to my bed. Just a minute ago I distinctly heard the klaxons. It sounded as though they were far away, but it was a sound. So the torture treatments actually worked. I can't stop smiling.
I thought…I thought…
Okay. I thought it was all over. No more SG-1. No more studying my languages and artifacts. I don't know when I've ever been more scared. The SGC is my whole world now. The people…Jack, Sam, Teal'c, General Hammond, Dr. Fraiser…I owe them so much. I never realized how much I needed them until the only way I could know they were there was through their touch. I don't want to forget the lessons I've learned.
I'm better. Not one hundred percent, but pretty close. Dr. Fraiser says I had some alien virus that attacked my brain. I think I phased her out after I heard the word "brain," but she keeps assuring me that there is no residual damage. I wonder aloud if there is any residual damage from the torture treatments. I see Janet's smirk.
I'm still confined to the infirmary until everything returns to normal. Fraiser thinks maybe another day and I'll be back on my feet. Or eyes and ears.
Anyway, everything's pretty good. Jack is still hanging around getting in everybody's way. Sam and Teal'c are constantly coming in, and even General Hammond has been here. Thank God Hammond didn't mention my meltdown. I couldn't look him in the face. I've got a lot of apologizing to do.
Jack is really shaken up. I know he's trying to hide it, but he's clingy, like he's afraid I'm going to go deaf and blind again. He keeps patting me on the shoulder or arm, touching.
I don't want to lose that.