The Amadeus Effect

~~~~~
“Okay… How, exactly, did Hathor use this thing?” asked Jack, well aware of the fact that Daniel flinched every time her name was mentioned. Jack couldn’t blame him—she wasn’t exactly one of his all-time favourite Goa’ulds either.

Teal’c steepled his fingers on the table in front of him, slipping into what Jack thought of as ‘Jaffa lecture mode’. “Apophis once sent a hand-picked group of Jaffa to find the Amadeus when rumour of its existence first reached him. It is said that the Amadeus was capable of casting a spell over its victims, causing them to pine for the love of their god. Hathor, who was the last known Goa’uld to possess the statue, would unleash the power of the Amadeus on a slave or Jaffa who’d displeased her. Then, by denying her victim of her presence, she would drive them to madness or suicide. When Ra imprisoned her, the statue disappeared and has been hunted by numerous Goa’uld ever since.”

Captain Carter volleyed her attention between Teal’c and her other two team-mates, soaking up Teal’c story while observing the colonel and Daniel. The colour had drained from Daniel’s face, and Jack was acting so stoic it looked as though he was carved out of stone. She’d formed a theory, but she wasn’t sure her CO would appreciate her voicing it. Still, it had to be said.

“Sir…when you found Daniel staring at the statue, did you…touch him?” she asked. Carter held her ground against the glare O’Neill shot her way.

“No! Of course not,” he snapped, making Daniel sink slightly into his chair like he wanted to disappear. “That is…maybe. A little,” he conceded, glancing briefly at the archaeologist with an apologetic half-smile. “Why?” he asked Carter.

“Well, sir, that would explain why you’re the one Daniel is reacting to. He must have touched the statue, triggering it somehow, and when you touched him you completed the circuit, as it were. You imprinted on Daniel in the same way Hathor must have done with her victims.”

There was that flinch again, Jack noticed out of the corner of his eye. He also noticed Daniel clenching and unclenching his hands. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the pain was returning, and that Daniel was too embarrassed to mention it.

“So does that make me Daniel’s god?” asked Jack. “Sweet.” Daniel cast him a dirty look, as did Carter and Hammond. He shrugged—he was only trying to lighten the mood.

“If I’m right,” said Carter, “then the organisms in Daniel’s system are coded to respond to Colonel O’Neill’s proximity. Teal’c, was there any mention of a cure or a way to reverse the statue’s effects?”

“There is but one cure, Captain Carter,” Teal’c replied gravely. “The victims must procure the love of their god or suffer and go mad in its absence.”

The fist-clenching had dissolved into uncontrolled trembling, and Jack looked over at Daniel to see a fine sheen of sweat beading at his temples and upper lip.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Daniel,” he griped and engulfed the other man’s hand with his own. Daniel sagged with relief and then shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny of every set of eyes at the table. Jack, feeling protective of his young friend, jumped back into the discussion to draw everyone’s attention away from Daniel. “So…what? All I have to do is declare my undying love for Daniel and he’s cured?” Okay, so maybe upon reflection that comment didn’t really help matters all that much, Jack thought, seeing the colour creeping above Daniel’s collar.

“Um…I don’t think it’s going to be that simple, sir,” said Carter uneasily. Her eyes slipped down to the notes in front of her, unable to maintain eye contact with either the colonel or Daniel.

“Of course not,” Jack sighed. A pair of nervous blue eyes darted in Jack’s direction, and he unconsciously gave Daniel’s had a reassuring squeeze.

~~~~~

After submitting to yet another battery of tests at the hands of Dr. Fraiser and her team, Daniel and Jack retired to the VIP suite Hammond had assigned to them. Neither had said much since the briefing, but it was clear to Daniel that Jack was less than thrilled at having been pulled off active duty.

Until Sam and Dr. Fraiser could come up with a way to counter the effects of the alien organisms, they were both stuck on base with nothing to do but wait. O’Neill wasn’t known for his waiting skills.

Daniel sat watching Jack pace back and forth on the other side of the VIP room’s little round table and tried to ignore the prickling pain coursing through his entire body. He was afraid—far more afraid than he let on—of what he and Jack might have to do to cure him. Daniel couldn’t help thinking that things might be better for everyone involved if he’d just put up with the pain and leave Jack out of it. But he’d had a taste of just how bad the pain could get, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to go through that again. He needed to think—needed a little peace and quiet to put his thoughts in order. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Jack—would you just-just stop? You’re wearing a hole in the carpet.”

Jack did stop, and he turned to face him, his piercing eyes missing nothing. “Why didn’t you tell me the pain was back again?” he demanded.

Daniel shrugged, his lower lip jutting out as he cast his eyes down to the bit of fuzz he’d found on his sleeve. It was very interesting fuzz.

“Daniel, you have to tell me when it comes back—you can’t expect me to guess every time,” said Jack, coming around the table to stand behind Daniel.

Daniel had intended to shrug Jack’s hand off his shoulder, but it made him feel so much better that he found he just couldn’t. “I guess I really messed up this time, huh?” he said. “I should never have gone into that chamber alone, I know that.” Daniel sagged forward and propped his chin up on his folded arms.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Jack answered truthfully. “I keep tellin’ ya it’s not a good idea to go around fondling objects on strange planets, but you’re like a cat, full of curiosity. And one of these days that curiosity of yours is going to do to you what it did to the cat.” The reprimand probably would have had more of an impact if he hadn’t been gently massaging Daniel’s shoulders the whole time, Jack realised.

They stayed that way for a while, Jack’s words fading into nothing, until Daniel finally broke the silence. “Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we going to do?” asked Daniel.

“I was thinking we’d have a nice game of chess followed by a hand or two of gin rummy,” Jack replied.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Jack’s hands stilled their rubbing. “I know.”

“And?”

“And…we deal with that if and when we have to,” he answered. Jack pulled up a chair and sat next to Daniel, their knees just touching, and nudged him to get him to make eye contact. “Fraiser and Carter will come up with something long before we have to worry about…that.”

Daniel simply nodded. He was eager to believe Jack, and he let the matter drop in favour of some active denial. “So…chess?”

“Chess,” Jack agreed with a smile and headed for the games cupboard to pull out the well-worn chess board. “I’m white.”

“You’re always white,” Daniel pointed out.

“Creature of habit; what can I say?” Jack replied with a shrug.

They fell into the familiar routine of the game, using it to avoid thinking about their situation. It reminded Jack of when he was a boy—on evenings before a big test or a dentist appointment, Jack would pull out the board games and his family would play until it was bedtime. He was a master when it came to distraction, and right now they were in serious need of it.

Daniel was enjoying the game. He’d always loved chess—it was comforting, like curling up on the couch with a really good book. And playing with Jack was always a treat. Jack’s mind was sharp and his game strategically sound, and he often managed to surprise Daniel with moves that seemed to come out of the blue. Jack had told him once that he played chess the same way he planned an attack, and the most important part was knowing your opponent.

“Checkmate,” said Daniel with a small self-deprecating pout. What Jack continually failed to realise was that Daniel also knew his opponent—knew him very well indeed.

“Right,” said Jack, pushing himself up from the table. “No more chess.” As Daniel packed up the chess set, Jack went to fish out a deck of cards. But as he reached the cupboard he heard a sharp intake of air coming from behind him. “Daniel?”

“Jack!” Daniel gasped, a panicked look on his face.

Jack got to him just as a scream of pain ripped from the other man’s throat. “Jesus, Daniel!” Jack pulled him out of his chair and wrapped his arms around him in one fluid motion. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Jack, I can’t—it hurts…” The rest of the words were little more than sobs muffled against Jack’s shirt.

Jack held him until the shaking stopped and Daniel had pulled himself together a bit. He then held the other man at arm’s length and took a good look at him. “Tell me the truth, now—that little episode was building up the whole time we were playing, wasn’t it?”

Daniel had the good grace to look properly chastised. “The prickly feeling’s pretty much a constant now, whenever we’re not touching. But it was manageable, I swear it was…until you left the table,” he amended with a shy duck of his head.

“Damn!” Jack dropped his arms and started pacing the room again. “Okay—I guess we’ll have to stay close—really close—from now on. And if you feel it coming on, don’t even ask; just grab my arm or something.”

Daniel nodded and reached out to grab Jack’s arm, halting him mid-pace.

Jack looked at him. “What—already?” he asked in disbelief.

Daniel nodded again, sheepishly. “Jack, if Sam and Janet don’t come up with something soon…”

“I know,” said Jack.

“We can’t keep this up! Not here—not on base, with Marines and SFs around every corner. I saw the looks we were getting in the commissary.”

“I admit, things could get a little dicey, but we don’t have much of a choice, do we? It’s not like Janet’s going to let us leave the mountain.”

“That’s not what I was suggesting,” said Daniel, dragging Jack with him so they could both sit down at the table. “Jack, there’s no reason why you should have to suffer because of my mistake. If I leave, maybe go back to Abydos…”

“Then the pain would drive you nuts and you’d end up killing yourself,” Jack snapped angrily. After over a year together on SGC’s flag-team, and still Daniel didn’t get that he meant something to other people—that he was one of them—and it infuriated Jack no end.

“It would only be until they figure out how to fix this,” Daniel argued. “If I stay here—if rumours spread—it could ruin your career.”

“Geez, Daniel—you worry too much,” said Jack. “This is the SGC—we eat, sleep and breathe weirdness every day. So what if you have to grab my arm every once in a while? You make it sound like we’d be humping each other in front of a roomful of jarheads.” Jack knew Daniel was right, of course—the rumours alone could be enough to stunt his career—but the alternative was unthinkable. There was no way he would let Daniel go through that kind of pain again if there was any way he could prevent it. If that meant never making general, so be it. It wasn’t as if he wanted a promotion anyways—too much paperwork. “Now stop thinking so much and shuffle.”

~~~~~

Three hours later they had played a round of every card game they could think of, including ‘Go Fish’. Daniel was almost relieved when they got the call from Janet asking them to come down to the infirmary.

As he and Jack sat down side by side on one of the cots, Janet and Sam emerged from the doctor’s office. They weren’t smiling. In fact, Janet had the same look she pulled out for terminal cases—strong, compassionate and brutally honest. Daniel swallowed and shifted closer to Jack on the bed, readying himself to hear the bad news.

“I’m sorry,” said Janet, deciding to come right out with it. “There were only a few tests I hadn’t already run, and now that I’ve run them…I’m sorry—there’s nothing I can do.”

Janet’s steady gaze did nothing to offset Sam’s complete inability to look at them. The girls knew exactly what was implied by Janet’s prognosis.

“So Teal’c was right?” asked Jack.

“I’m afraid so,” answered Janet. “Or at least I hope he’s right, because if that doesn’t work we’re out of ideas.”

“Maybe if I did some research I could find out more about the statue,” Daniel suggested. “For all we know it might be reversible, or-or maybe it’ll wear off in time.” He was grasping at straws, he knew, but he was desperate to find another solution.

“I don’t see any harm in letting you work in your lab—so long as the colonel goes with you, of course,” said Janet. She was doing her best to sound optimistic, but it didn’t quite ring true.

“Jack?” Daniel asked, turning hopeful blue eyes towards his C.O.—a little batting of the lashes seemed to work on him, too, Daniel noticed.

“Fine,” said Jack, and he turned to address Janet. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d let him bring his work back to my place? There’s a new ‘Simpson’s’ on tonight.” Apparently Jack lacked the eyelash-batting skills of his team mate—Janet merely crossed her arms and frowned at him. Discussion over.

Jack was still sulking by the time they got to Daniel’s laboratory. As Daniel settled at his desk, digging out a new writing pad and a couple of ancient tomes so heavy they would have given Schwarzenegger a hernia to lift, Jack did his usual thing. In other words, he sighed a lot and played with Daniel’s stuff. The guy had a lot of stuff. He picked up a tablet that looked like it had been carved out of solid ebony and hefted it in his hands. Good weight, he decided.

“Jack,” Daniel said.

Jack quickly put the tablet back where he’d found it. “I didn’t touch anything. Honest,” he said defensively.

“Jack!” Daniel said again, only this time the strain in his voice told Jack that he wasn’t mad at him—he was in pain.

“Why didn’t you say?” said Jack, ignoring the deadly glower Daniel shot his way. Jack came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Daniel huffed out a few sharp breaths as Jack’s touch took the edge off the pain. But it wasn’t enough. The prickling continued, despite the hand on his shoulder. Daniel’s heart started pounding—it wasn’t enough! In a moment of desperation, Daniel grabbed Jack’s hand and brought it up to cup his cheek. The prickling pain stopped, making Daniel bite back an involuntary sob. It was getting worse, and he was terrified of where it was heading.

“Daniel?” asked Jack, concerned.

“Just…pass me that black book behind you?” asked Daniel, keeping a tight reign on his emotions. “Please?”

Jack knew better than to make a big deal of it. His friend’s obvious discomfort was not overly surprising: Jack had long been aware of Daniel’s resistance towards human contact. He always stood off to the side, most often with his arms wrapped tightly around himself as if signalling to others to stay away. Jack was the only one who was allowed to get close, and Jack took full advantage of it. He made a point of hugging Daniel, and ruffling his hair or patting his back, and he thought he was finally breaking through the younger man’s shell. But clearly this was way too much contact for Daniel to cope with.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have the luxury of playing coy. They both new what had to be done, and Jack was of the opinion that the sooner they got it over with, the better. He was a firm believer in ripping off the band-aid. He’d let Daniel futz around with his books for a while, but if he didn’t find anything useful by bedtime, Jack would bring up the whole ripping-the-band-aid-off idea.

A full eight hours later they were both tired and irritable. Daniel kept complaining that Jack was in the way, so Jack would move out of the way only to have Daniel call him back a few minutes later to douse the pain. For his part, Jack was trying to be useful—he really was—but he felt more like the cat Sara used to have that would walk all over his newspaper while he was trying to read it. He felt like a nuisance, nothing more.

He didn’t have to ask to know that Daniel hadn’t had any luck with his research—every mumbled curse and every book slammed shut told him all he needed to know. By dinnertime Jack’s stomach was hollow and he could tell by Daniel’s constant shifting that he wasn’t the only one who was feeling the call of nature.

“You done yet?” Jack asked as Daniel slapped another book shut and massaged the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger.

Daniel looked up in frustration, but seeing the compassion evident in his friend’s eyes, he soon overcame his temper. “I guess I’m as done as I’ll ever be,” he sighed. “There’s nothing here—not a single mention of the statue or the name Amadeus that even remotely relates to the device we found on the planet.”

“So…you’re done, right?” asked Jack, just to clarify.

Daniel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yeah, Jack, I’m done.”

“Great. Let’s eat!” said Jack.

Daniel looked up at him in amazement. “How can you be so flippant about all this?”

“Hey—we still gotta eat, right?”

Jack had a point, he supposed, and he really did appreciate Jack’s attempts to keep him calm. With a shrug, Daniel took the hand Jack offered him and went with him down to the commissary for dinner—although his stomach was so tied up in knots that he knew he’d never be able to eat.