Story Notes:

            Type: angst, drama

            Rating: PG-13

            Warnings: torture, language

            Spoilers: Season Eight, references Abyss, Fragile Balance, and The Gamekeeper

            Length: about 3700 words

 

 

Take Me Out of the Ba’al Game

My Dad, Ba’al #1

 

Daniel had finally stopped screaming.

 

He figured it had happened about the same time he’d lost consciousness, but he couldn’t say for sure.  The memory of those last few minutes—hours? days?—was clouded in a haze of unending agony.  It was impossible to pinpoint the moment when his screams had stopped ricocheting off the walls.

 

He swallowed painfully.  His throat was still burning, as if someone had scraped it with steel wool and poured acid over it.

 

Better his throat than the rest of his body.  He shuddered, recalling the drops of acid that had seared his skin before sinking inward to devour him from the inside out.  He had never experienced pain like that.  It was worse than the rippling seizure of a zat stun.  Worse than the scalding heat of a staff blast.  Worse than…well, everything.

 

Yup, Ba’al sure had this torture thing down to an art.

 

Daniel tried to shift to a more comfortable position on the stone floor but failed to find any place that didn’t aggravate bruises and barely-healed wounds.  His head throbbed mercilessly.  He wished he could have just stayed unconscious for, oh, however long it took for the SGC to rescue him.

 

Other than the acid, which Ba’al had counteracted before it could kill Daniel, none of the things Ba’al had done to him were life-threatening.  Ba’al didn’t want Daniel dead or even injured to the point where he needed a sarcophagus to recover—not yet, anyway.  Right now, the name of the game was “Distraction.”  So far, Ba’al was winning.  The constant ache that grated throughout Daniel’s body made it difficult to concentrate.

 

Daniel tried anyway.  He forced himself to ignore the edge of pain and remember.  The capture itself was a blur.  He hoped Sam and Teal’c were safe, but he didn’t even know if they’d been with him.  The first couple “torture sessions” were a little more clear.  He’d been aware enough to recognize the chamber and the gravity field that pinned him upright.  Jack’s descriptions about his experience at Ba’al’s mercy had been brief and reluctant, but Daniel had always been good at reading between the lines.  Apparently, he’d visited Jack during that time, but he couldn’t pull up the specific memory.  His time as an ascended being was a black hole.

 

There were no questions from Ba’al, no demands for information.  Ba’al wasn’t interrogating him.  He did like to brag, though, so Daniel had gotten the basics of the plan.  Ba’al was using a modified Tok’ra device to “download” Daniel’s memories, though Daniel was fuzzy on the “why” part.  Ba’al had complained that Daniel was particularly adept at creating mental barriers, so whenever Daniel managed to obstruct the memory device, Ba’al distracted him with more pain.

 

Ba’al’s distractions were…inventive.

 

And effective.

 

He heard a scuff nearby and hoped it wasn’t one of the Jaffa, ready to drag him off to another bout of “Pin the Knife in the Archaeologist.”  He turned his head toward the sound.  If only he could get his eyelids to cooperate…

 

The attempt to open his eyes was a mistake.  The throb in his head sharpened into a pounding ache that wrenched a groan out of him.

 

“Hey.  Hey, you,” someone whispered then, as if prompted by Daniel’s groan.  “Are you waking up yet?”

 

The voice was young, much higher-pitched than that of Ba’al or his Jaffa.  Curious, Daniel slit his eyes open again and blinked his way through another burst of agony, fighting back nausea.  Jack had always said Daniel would go through hell to satisfy his curiosity.

 

He hated it when Jack was right.

 

Finally he managed to focus.  Ba’al had gone with tradition to keep Daniel imprisoned, so he was basically in a large cage in the corner of what looked like an al’kesh’s storage room.  Beyond the iron bars, a boy sat cross-legged on the floor, elbows on his knees, head propped in his hands.  He was staring at Daniel.

 

Daniel stared back.  He had seen the boy before, solemn face peering out of school photos decades ago.  It was a ten-year-old version of himself.

 

A clone.

 

Ba’al had gloated about a clone, hadn’t he?  Something about a stolen sample of Daniel’s DNA and nanocytes to accelerate the growth?  Daniel had a vague recollection of Ba’al congratulating himself, crowing about his own genius.  His creation.  A clone with all of Daniel’s memories, a spy connected to the very fabric of the SGC.

 

A ten-year-old spy didn’t seem like such a clever idea to Daniel.  Jack’s clone had been older than ten, and they’d still limited his access to the base.  Daniel decided he must have passed out before hearing the rest of Ba’al’s master plan.

 

“Um, hi?” Daniel greeted his…clone.  “You must be Daniel.”

 

Without removing his cupped hands from their position under his chin, the boy tipped his head from side to side in a negative.  “Danny.  You should know that.  I’m you, you know.”

 

“Well, I…I did know that.  I just…forgot, I guess.  Being ‘Danny’ was a long time ago for me.”

 

“How long ago?”

 

“The last time?  I was twelve.”  He’d scared his foster mother.  His temper had gotten the best of him, a roaring inferno out of control, and he was ashamed to recall how forcefully he had insisted on “Daniel” instead of “Danny,” a nickname which still had the power to evoke a deep longing for his parents.  Strangely, the nickname didn’t seem to bother him when Jack used it.

 

Danny lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug.  “I don’t have those memories yet.  I only remember up to being six.  We had a party.  Aba and Mama gave me a doggie.”

 

“Blackie,” Daniel said with a hint of a smile, remembering the floppy-eared stuffed animal.  He’d lost it right before they’d left for New York and been devastated.  His father’s promise to buy him another one was never fulfilled, lost in the rubble of a museum exhibit.

 

Danny grinned.  “It was a fun party.”

 

“Yes, it was.”  Daniel felt a stab of sympathy for his clone, who had only the happy memories and no idea of the impending tragedy in Daniel’s life.

 

Danny leaned forward confidingly.  “It’s weird having two fathers.”

 

“What?”

 

“Two fathers.  You know.  Aba and Dad.”

 

“Dad?”  Daniel’s brain still felt fuzzy around the edges, and he wondered if he’d missed something.  He had never called anyone “Dad” in his life.

 

“Yeah.  Melbourne and Ba’al.  Aba and Dad.”

 

The sympathy faded beneath a surge of red-hot fury.  Daniel pushed himself up on his elbows, his rage eclipsing the pain.  “Ba’al is not your dad!”

 

Danny studied Daniel as if he were an interesting specimen.  Or a freak.  “Yes, he is.  He made me.  He takes care of me.  We’re a family.”

 

“He’s a Goa’uld.  A--”

 

“I know what a Goa’uld is,” Danny interrupted.  “Dad told me.  He’s going to bring order to the galaxy.  Make everyone stop having wars and things.  I’m going to help him.”

 

“He’s evil.  He’s--”

 

Danny jumped to his feet and glared down at Daniel.  “Don’t say that!  He’s my dad!  He loves me!”

 

“The only thing Ba’al loves is power.”  The headache intensified.  Daniel’s head felt as if it might fall off.  Carefully, he lowered himself back to the floor and squinted upward at his clone.  “Danny, don’t you see?  He’s using you.”

 

“No, he’s not!  He loves me!  He said I could help him.”  Danny kicked one of the iron bars and stuck out his tongue.  “You’re mean.  I don’t like you anymore.”

 

The door on the other side of the room opened.  Ba’al strode inside and approached the cage.  He settled a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

 

“What are you doing here, son?”

 

Danny sniffed, dragging the back of his hand underneath his nose.  “I wanted to see.  I was curious.”

 

“Ah.  I daresay curiosity is an inescapable trait for any Daniel Jackson.” 

 

Ba’al regarded Daniel with an arrogant smirk, and Daniel wished for a staff weapon.  He wanted nothing more than to blast that superior expression right off the man’s face.

 

“He said you didn’t love me.”

 

Ba’al ruffled the boy’s hair.  “Of course I love you.  You’re going to save this galaxy for me, aren’t you?”

 

Danny nodded eagerly, leaning into the caress.  Daniel closed his eyes.  It hurt too much to see the boy’s trust exploited by Ba’al.

 

“Come along, son,” Ba’al said.  “Daniel and I are having another talk later today, so he needs to rest.  And you’ll be ready for more of his memories soon, won’t you?”

 

The door closed before Daniel heard the answer, but he already knew that Danny would agree to anything Ba’al suggested.

 

#

 

Daniel awoke from the “talk” less battered and without the searing pain of previous torture sessions.  His introduction to Danny had made Daniel more determined to hold onto his memories.  Frustrated, Ba’al had gotten carried away in his efforts to break Daniel’s resistance and been forced to use the sarcophagus to repair the damage he’d caused.  There were enough lingering aches and pains for Daniel to know that his time in the sarcophagus had been cut short, but he felt better than he had since his capture.

 

Food and water had been provided, so Daniel took advantage of his improved condition to eat and drink and clean up a little.  While he was scrubbing away the blood that had crusted along a newly healed cut on his arm, the door opened.  He glanced up to watch Danny creep into the room, arms tucked around his chest in an achingly familiar gesture of self-comfort.  Shoulders hunched and gaze focused on the floor, Danny shuffled closer to the cage.

 

“’M sorry I yelled at you,” he mumbled.

 

“It’s okay,” Daniel said gently.  “Are you all right?”

 

Danny shrugged one shoulder.  He moved to the wall nearest Daniel’s cage, sank to the floor, and leaned back.  He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and hugged them closer.  When he finally looked up at Daniel, his expression was bleak.

 

“I’ve lived here with Dad—with Ba’al—for almost three months.  Every week, I grew a year older until Da—Ba’al made me stop growing so my brain would accept your memories.  After I have them all, he’s going to grow me the rest of the way so I’m as old as you.  Then I have to leave him.”

 

Danny fell silent.  A tear slid down his cheek.  Daniel had settled onto the floor, facing the boy.  He didn’t speak, letting Danny say what he needed to say at his own pace.

 

“I lived with Aba and Mama for eight years,” Danny continued, his voice husky.  “I know it was really you, but I remember it too.  It was two years ago, but I still miss them.  I miss them lots.  I loved them so much.  But they left me…  The stone fell…  And I watched them…”

 

Danny’s lower lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard.  A shudder coursed through his body.  Daniel shivered as well, the echo of a long-past hurt resonating within him.  He wanted to draw the boy close, but the bars separated them.  He reached through the bars, as far as he could, his fingers inches from Danny’s knees.  Danny lurched forward and grabbed the offered hand, clutching it as sobs tore through him.  He dropped his forehead on one knee and held onto Daniel while he cried for the parents they had both lost.

 

By the time the storm of tears had passed, Daniel’s legs had cramped from the position he was holding, his chest was numb where it pressed against the iron bars, and his fingers were sore in Danny’s grasp.  His own eyes were hot with unshed tears from the memories that had tiptoed out of their dark corners.  But he said nothing, did nothing that would reveal his discomfort to Danny.

 

After minutes of muffled sniffling and the occasional hiccups, Danny looked up and regarded Daniel solemnly.

 

“Do you miss them?”

 

“Always,” Daniel whispered.

 

Danny nodded and released Daniel’s hand.  Daniel sat back, awkwardly changing the position of stiff limbs.  Danny swiped his cheeks with both hands, rubbed his reddened eyes, and then returned to clasping his knees against his chest.

 

“I love Ba’al,” Danny said, gazing at Daniel again.  “I know you don’t…understand that.  But before you, before the memories, he was the only one.  He’s—he’s my dad.  We’re family.”

 

Daniel nodded.  He did understand, in a way, remembering himself at ten years old.  A lonely boy who craved physical affection, he had latched on to anyone who had shown him kindness.  It was not hard to imagine Ba’al being nice to a child who desperately needed a place in the world.

 

“I don’t want to leave him.  I can’t.  I don’t want it to hurt…” Danny’s voice cracked, “like this again.  I don’t ever want to be…  To feel so…”

 

“Alone,” Daniel contributed when the boy struggled for a word to describe his feelings.

 

Danny nodded jerkily and then looked at him with an expression that was half-pleading and half-hopeful.  “When does it go away?”

 

Daniel couldn’t help the soft puff of sad laughter.  “Not for a very long time, I’m afraid.  I even stopped wishing for it after a while.  I guess I got used to being alone.”

 

Danny grimaced as if the very idea was offensive.

 

“It can be different for you, though,” Daniel said, treading carefully.  “They’re my memories.  They don’t have to be yours.  You can make your own memories, have your own life.”

 

“But Dad…  He needs me to--”

 

“He needs you to be me.  He wants to turn you into Daniel.  What happens to Danny then?”

 

Danny had slid his legs to the floor.  Now he moved his arms upward to crisscross his chest.  His hands clutched at his upper arms, drawing the self-hug tighter, as if he could hide from Daniel’s words.

 

“If you help me escape, Danny, I can take you with me.  I know what it feels like to be alone, and I’ll make sure that never happens to you.”

 

Danny shook his head wildly.  “No.  I want to stay with Dad.  I’ll tell him…  I’ll tell him I don’t want your memories anymore.  If I’m not willing, it doesn’t work.  I’ll tell him to stop.  I’ll be me.”

 

“He won’t give you what you want.”

 

“Stop it!  Stop it!  He loves me!  I’ll tell him I want to be Danny.  I’ll tell him I want to be his son and I don’t ever, ever want to leave him.”  Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks again.  “You’ll see.  He’s my dad.  I love him.”

 

“Danny--”

 

“No!  I’m not listening to you anymore.  All you do is tell lies about Dad because you don’t like him.”

 

Danny jumped to his feet and ran from the room.  Daniel watched him go with a feeling of dread.

 

#

 

The next “talk” went about like the one before.  Daniel resisted, Ba’al raged.  Even after he had turned off the gravity field, dropping Daniel to the floor in a crumpled heap, Ba’al didn’t let up.  Muttering insults about SG-1’s ability to interfere, he kicked at Daniel’s left arm until the bone gave way.  Daniel shrieked through a throat already hoarse from screaming and lost consciousness.

 

When he woke later in his cage, he decided the waking-up idea really needed to be reconsidered.  The broken arm hadn’t earned him a trip to the sarcophagus.  He caught his breath at the raw pain that slammed through him when he tried to change position.  For several minutes, breathing was the only activity he could manage, and even that was shaky.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he was lying there before he realized he wasn’t alone.  Someone was combing their fingers through his hair and humming the lullaby his mother used to sing whenever he was sick.  Daniel cracked his eyes open.

 

“You look like Aba when you sleep,” Danny whispered as his fingers stroked steadily.

 

Daniel blinked, saw the blue-black bruise that surrounded Danny’s right eye, and managed in a gravelly voice, “You’re hurt.”

 

He gave a half-smile.  “So are you.”

 

“Ba’al?”

 

“Yeah.”  Danny heaved a gusty sigh.  “He wants me to keep getting your memories.  He said if I loved him, I’d do what he wanted.  And I remembered what Mama always says—said.”

 

Danny’s breath hitched at the correction, and Daniel recited the oft-heard quote for him, “‘Love is a gift, not a bargain.’”

 

The boy nodded sorrowfully.  “I thought I was important to him.  But I’m…I’m the plan more than I’m his son.  When it’s all over, he’s still going to send me away.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No, you’re not.  You’re his enemy.”

 

“Ba’al’s enemy, yes.  Not yours.  I’m sorry he hurt you.”  When Danny touched the bruise, Daniel reached up to settle his hand on Danny’s chest.  “I’m sorry he hurt you here.  Remember, I know how badly you want a family.”

 

Danny bit his lip and then said hesitantly, “You said if I helped you escape…”

 

That was when Daniel saw the open door to his cage—took you long enough to notice, Jack sniped in his head—and his vest leaning against Danny’s leg.  The vest which contained Daniel’s radio and, thank God, a medkit.

 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Daniel breathed, eliciting such a look of delight from Danny that Daniel decided Ba’al must have been stingy with praise.

 

Following Daniel’s gasped-out instructions, Danny administered a painkiller and bound Daniel’s broken arm against his chest to keep it immobile.  As Danny wrapped the bandages, he explained that the al’kesh was orbiting a planet where Ba’al was visiting a potential ally.

 

“The Jaffa pretty much ignore me,” Danny said, tying off the bandage.  “They won’t even notice if I’m gone.”

 

“They’ll probably notice if I’m gone,” Daniel remarked.  But he couldn’t remember too many Jaffa checking up on him between torture sessions once he’d been dumped in his cage.  If they could avoid any patrols in the corridors, they’d be safe.  He pointed out the radio to Danny.  “We need that.  The rest of it can stay.  Help me up?”

 

Danny pocketed the radio and offered his hand to Daniel.  Daniel levered himself upright.  He swayed, his good hand clutching Danny’s shoulder, while a wave of vertigo threatened to land him back on his ass.

 

“Oh, Jack is going to be so not happy with me,” Daniel muttered once he had caught his breath.  Jack had taken to reminding everyone that “return Doctor Jackson in perfect condition” was one of the SGC’s standing orders now that Jack was the commanding officer.  He usually added that he was still waiting to see some improvement with that particular order.

 

“Who’s Jack?”

 

“Jack is the reason I’m not alone anymore,” Daniel answered with a smile.  “He’s part of my family.  Our family.”

 

The addition of the last phrase caused Danny to glance up, his expression caught between disbelief and hope.

 

As they made their way to the rings, Danny proved to be an invaluable companion.  His  months raised on an al’kesh had taught him how to avoid the Jaffa and operate the ship’s systems.  On the planet, during their trek from the rings to the DHD, he supported more and more of Daniel’s weight as the painkiller began to wear off.  Daniel managed to give an overview of what to expect when they arrived at the SGC, but if Jack had been present, he would have been astonished at the brevity of Daniel’s explanation.  Daniel was finding it harder to breathe through the pain that was creeping back into his awareness.  He gritted his teeth and ordered himself to hang on as he punched Earth’s address into the DHD.

 

Staring with slightly wild eyes, Danny backed up at the Stargate’s whoosh.  Daniel slumped against the DHD and gestured for the radio.  Danny sidled closer and handed it over.

 

Daniel called the SGC, wheezing through every word as pain stabbed through his side.  He was beginning to suspect that Ba’al’s most recent beating had damaged a couple of his ribs and the walk to the gate had aggravated their condition.

 

“That you, Daniel?  Where the hell have you been?” Jack demanded through the radio, and just hearing Jack’s voice, irritated or not, was enough to loosen some of Daniel’s tension.

 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to ease any of his pain.  He drew in a lungful of air and ended up coughing.

 

Danny snatched the radio before it fell from Daniel’s weak grasp.  He fumbled it on.  “Please, Lord Jack, sir.  Please, he’s hurt bad, and Ba’al’s going to find us soon.”

 

There was a heavy pause.  “Ba’al?  Who is this?”

 

Daniel had managed to catch his breath and reclaimed the radio.  “Jack, I’m injured, I have a child with me who helped me escape, and our position isn’t secure.  I know you have to consider that I might be compromised, so we’ll submit willingly to any tests and any questioning.  I’m unarmed.  I’ll come through with one hand in the air--”

 

“Only one?”  Despite the situation, Jack sounded amused.

 

Daniel responded dryly, “The other arm happens to be broken at the moment.”

 

In the distance, several Jaffa called to each other.  Danny clutched fearfully at the hem of Daniel’s shirt and whispered, “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

 

“Jack, they’re coming,” Daniel warned.  “I can’t hold this position much longer.”

 

There was another pause while Daniel prayed silently that Jack would break standard procedure and just let them through.  Daniel had no desire to revisit Ba’al’s chamber ever again.  Goa’uld hospitality lacked a certain ambiance of comfort.

 

Finally—finally—Jack said, “Okay, door’s open.  Come on home, Danny.”

 

Hearing an invitation that included his name, Danny looked up, startled and pleased.  Daniel smiled.  He didn’t know what would happen with Danny, but one thing was certain.  He was going to show Danny the true meaning of family.

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