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Category: Episode tag
Series: Number 20 in Scribe's Shower Scene Series
Season/spoilers: Huge spoilers for Entity
Warnings: Nudity (but not in any rude way as to really deserve a warning)
Summary: This is what should've happened at the end of Entity, in my humble opinion
Author's Notes: According to the poll over at Starguide most people either loved or loathed this episode. Personally I loathed it on so many different levels and spent most of the following day wishing I could wind back time Dallas-style. However, I have since come to realise that the episode we saw on the TV wasn't in fact finished <eg>. Clearly the most important scenes were accidentally cut. With all due respect to the writers, therefore, I have attempted to put things right. Or as Harlaan would say, to make things 'better'! (Those who worship at the altar of canon and those who loved Entity may wish to look away now...) Thanks once again to the wonderful Jb for beta-reading.
God. They'd nearly lost Sam. If he hadn't had that tingling feeling down the back of his neck… if he'd decided this time to ignore it…
Daniel shivered at the thought of what might have been. Still, it was alright now. Sam was going to be fine. Everything was back the way it had been before they'd sent that probe through the Stargate.
Yeah. Everything was back just the way it had been. Damn it! Shame he couldn't just re-wind a bit further. A few weeks would be good. Back to when Jack had still been… well, Jack. He was sure somebody was spiking the colonel's food. After all, there had to be some logical reason for the way Jack had been behaving lately. Daniel sighed, remembering the good old days when he used to spend long evenings at Jack's, battling over the chess board and evading poorly disguised attempts to get him drunk.
Now all he got was snide comments - assuming Jack bothered to speak to him at all.
In a sudden fit of exasperation, Daniel slammed his fist into the nearest locker door.
He couldn't put a fist-sized dent in just any locker, could he? No, he had to go and hit Jack's locker. He peered at the damage, wondering if he couldn't somehow pick the lock, open the door and push the dent out from the inside. Crap. The way the door was bowed inwards it was going to be hell to open it with the key, never mind a nailfile. Jack was going to kill him.
He was just about to fish his Swiss army knife out of his pocket when he heard the sound of voices in the hallway.
Oh crap! That was Jack.
Daniel shot the locker one last guilty look and decided to make a run for it. He just knew he wouldn't be able to bluff his way out of things face-to-face with Jack, and right now he really didn't want to explain why he'd seen fit to take his mood out on the man's locker.
Diving through the archway into the communal changing area, he stripped his clothes off in record time. Boots and socks skittered across the damp tiles. His tee shirt was tugged over his head and tossed on to one of the cubicle partitions. One hand fumbled with belt, button and zip, while he reached into a shower cubicle with the other and turned the water on full. Stepping out of his pants, his hands moved to the waistband of his boxers.
If he could just be in the shower, maybe Jack wouldn't make the association between his sour mood and the damaged locker. After all, Jack had been pretty dense of late. In fact Jack had been so dense, Daniel had even asked Fraiser if she'd accidentally performed a lobotomy. She hadn't been amused, and neither had Jack when Fraiser ratted. So much for patient-doctor confidentiality.
Uh-oh! A colourful exclamation reached his ears from the locker room. Jack had obviously found the damage. Quickly, Daniel yanked his boxers down. Right foot out. Left foot out. He caught them with his toes and flicked them onto the pile of discarded clothes. Turned and took a step towards the shower. And noticed the leaking shampoo dispenser too late.
His feet skidded from under him. Daniel tried to stop his forward movement by curling his right shoulder down, but the smooth wet tiles gave his fingers no purchase. Momentum caused his legs to shoot rapidly upwards and spun him round even further. As his body discovered that gravity was not only alive and kicking, it was in evil cahoots with the shampoo, his head contacted hard and fast with the solid, ceramic soap dish set into the wall. Daniel's last thought, as unconsciousness grabbed him with a squeal of malicious delight, was that he really hated the smell of aloe vera.
Jack cursed loudly as he battled with his vandalised locker door. When he got his hands on whoever was responsible… Like he hadn't had to enough to deal with over the past few days. God damn it. Hours and hours of reports and now… now he couldn't get into his own locker!
He glanced round the locker room in disgust. Only his locker had been vandalised, he noted sourly. Nothing for it then. He casually walked over to Daniel's locker, whipped out his penknife and expertly picked the lock. A quick rummage revealed what he was after. Daniel wouldn't mind if he 'borrowed' some shower gel. For some reason, the guy had enough to stock a small store.
His loot in hand, Jack strode to the archway between the lockers and the shower area. A pile of discarded clothes made him raise an eyebrow and then… Oh God.
"Daniel!" Jack's stomach lurched as he reached the shower cubicle.
Daniel was lying on his back, his pose deceptively casual. One arm, the elbow bent, was flung above his head, the other was resting across his stomach. His head was turned, left cheek down. If it wasn't for the fact he was lying stark naked on the floor of the shower room, Jack could almost have believed Daniel had just decided to lie down and take a nap.
With one swift move, he cut off the powerful jet of water playing over Daniel thighs and then dropped to his side. Daniel's chest rose and fell in what appeared to be a normal rhythm. Still breathing, thank God. A quick check found a strong pulse. Jack allowed himself a moment of relief, before beginning to worry about possible injuries - head neck, back. Damn it.
"Come on, Daniel." Jack gently patted the archaeologist's cheek. "Wake up."
Nothing. Daniel was definitely out cold.
Oh crap! As he bent closer. Jack saw blood oozing from a split just above Daniel's right eye. Jack's gaze did a quick sweep of the cubicle. There, on the edge of the soap dish, was a smear of red. And beneath the built-in dispenser was a glistening streak of treacherous shampoo. It didn't take a PhD to figure out Daniel had somehow managed to slip and knock himself for six. It wouldn't be the first time Daniel's feet had gotten him into trouble - one of Jack's earliest memories of Daniel was tracking him across the Abydonian desert after the archaeologist had tangled himself up with a mastage halter. This, however, really took the cake.
Jack slowly ran his hands down Daniel's torso, relieved not to feel any obvious grinding, not that that meant much. Grinding bones or not, Daniel could still have cracked ribs. Not being able to tell for sure if there was any serious injury, and knowing he couldn't leave Daniel lying on his back while he went for help, he was just contemplating the risk of moving him into the recovery position when he heard voices in the locker room. He was on his feet and at the archway in a second. Sergeant Tyler and two of his maintenance crew were laughing and joking as they stripped off greased-stained overalls.
"Tyler." Jack got his attention. "Get a medical crew down here asap."
"Daniel's out cold." Jack nodded in the direction of the showers. "Somehow managed to hit his head in the shower."
Tyler didn't even blink in surprise. "Right on it, sir."
Jack returned to Daniel's side as Tyler, his dirty overalls pushed down to his hips, headed for the door.
Daniel was still unconscious, his skin far too pale. Not being able to do much else while waiting for the medics, Jack grabbed a couple of towels, wrapped one around Daniel's hips to spare him any more later embarrassment than was strictly necessary, and set to work gently drying him off with the other.
Whoever was pounding that kettle drum had better quit or he was going to commit murder.
Daniel attempted to burrow deeper into his pillow while trying to remember where he'd been and how many beers he'd drunk. His mind came up with two brilliant answers. No idea, and hadn't a clue. He must've been out with Jack. Only… no, that couldn't be right... he and Jack hadn't done that in such a long time…
"Go 'way, Jack."
"C'mon, Daniel. It's time to wake up. You're worrying the hell out of the doc."
Janet? What the hell was Janet doing in his bedroom?
His eyes flew open. Owww! Bad idea. Really bad. Jack - a somewhat out of focus and very concerned looking Jack - swam into view. Now his other senses started to kick in. The smell of disinfectant. The soft background sound of beeping machines. The irritating sensation of the blood pressure cuff tightening around his upper arm.
Before he could force his tongue to co-operate with his brain, Janet was on him, penlight in hand.
"Can you tell me your name?"
Janet gave him a cold look.
"Date of birth?"
"You're about to hold up four fingers."
Cautiously Daniel pushed himself higher up the bed, hoping fervently that Janet wasn't going to wave her damn penlight in his face again. "Why am I in the infirmary?"
"You don't remember?" Janet asked.
"Sure I do. I'm just asking to… even up the questioning here."
Janet exchanged an exasperated look with Jack.
Jack pulled a face and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You slipped in the shower…"
"Oh?" Daniel frowned, and then wished he hadn't as it sent the kettle drum player into a frenzy.
Jack leaned back, adding casually. "Right after you punched a hole in my locker."
Daniel's eyebrows almost shot off his face. "How did you…?"
Jack nodded towards Daniel's right hand.
"Ahh…." His bruised and grazed knuckles were a dead giveaway. Suddenly feeling the need to change the subject, Daniel peered around the infirmary. The empty bed on the opposite wall caught his attention.
"Umm… where's Sam?"
"Sam?" Jack asked.
"I didn't think she'd be out of the infirmary so soon."
Jack's eyebrows raised in question.
Daniel frowned again. "Being stuck in the mainframe like that and then downloaded back into her body, I mean that's not exactly…" He stopped, suddenly aware both Janet and Jack were staring at him as though he'd grown two heads. "Ummm… guys? Something wrong?"
"Daniel…" Janet was waving the penlight in his eyes again. "Do you think you could just recap what happened over the past few hours?"
He tugged his head away, blinking. "You mean before I was ambushed by a shampoo dispenser with attitude?"
This time he didn't get the Janet Fraiser 'I'm not amused look' Uh-oh. He had a very nasty feeling he was spiralling into one of those discussions that ended up with tests? Lots of unpleasant, intrusive tests. He studied Jack's face looking for clues but saw nothing except concern. That, in itself, was worrying. He'd thought Jack had given up being concerned about him.
"Well… we'd just got Sam back and…"
"Back from where?" Jack asked.
"You know from where."
"Humour me. Speak slow."
"Well I've had plenty of practice at that lately," Daniel complained.
"Colonel. Daniel. Please." Janet raised her right eyebrow at Jack warningly. "Daniel, just tell us what you remember from before you went to the locker room."
He blew out an exasperated breath.
"Okay - you want to know what I remember? Fine. We sent a probe through to the planet, P3… whatever, hoping to find out about the Ancients. An alien virus came back through the gate in the MALP. No, wait.. that's not right. It wasn't actually in the MALP. It was in the MALP signal - kind of like riding piggyback. Of course it probably was in the MALP at first, but then the MALP flew away and… Don't you think that was kind weird? I mean it's not like the MALP even has wings." Daniel raised his eyebrows in question at Jack, who shook his head in a circular sort of way that suggested he didn't know whether he was meant to say yes or no.
Jack glanced at Janet. "Flying MALPs? I'm definitely not getting my memos."
Pulling in another breath, Daniel was off again. "But anyway, it started taking over the computer so Sam said we had to shut it down. The computer that is, not the virus. Well of course, shutting down the computer would hopefully shut down the virus. Only it didn't.. Instead it built a nest in the storage room and…"
"A nest?" Jack scratched his head. "By the way... did you catch my 'speak slow' bit?"
Daniel favoured him with what he hoped was a caustic glare. "It built a nest in the storage room. Sam and I wanted to communicate with it but you..." He eyed Jack accusingly. "Wanted to blow it up."
Jack shrugged. "An alien virus takes over the computer. Sounds like a plan to me."
Daniel stopped, his eyes searching Jack's. "C'mon, you can't not remember! Sam tried to talk to it via a keyboard and it somehow jumped into her body. And then it all turned ugly. Sam went running through the corridors in her pink pjs and you shot her with a zat. Twice."
"Twice." Jack repeated slowly. "So Sam would be like… dead?"
"Well yes. Only the alien entity uploaded her into the mainframe just before it died and then…" Daniel turned to Janet. "You wired her body up to a terminal and…"
Janet shoved her penlight into a pocket. "I'm going to run an MRI."
"An MRI? W...w...wait! That really isn't necessary," Daniel protested as Janet moved briskly towards her office. "I feel fine. My memory *is* fine. All I need is a couple of Tylenol and people to stop shining bright lights in my face."
"Don't move from that bed, Daniel," she called over her shoulder.
Daniel turned eyes of appeal towards Jack. "Not an MRI, Jack. She'll have me tied down to that damn bed for hours."
"Just grit your teeth and think of America," Jack said, apparently immune to the batting eyelids. "You know how Fraiser gets… Besides, you do seem a little confused."
"Confused?" The accusation stung. "No Jack. You're the one who's been confused for the past few weeks. Mooching around like a love-sick hormone."
"You heard. Christ, Jack! You wouldn't even let me and Teal'c into the infirmary. We had to stand up in the observation while you did your bedside vigil. You even made Janet play that godawful music…"
"Daniel, what the hell are you talking about?" Jack was suddenly on his feet and pacing.
Daniel opened his mouth and gaped at Jack in disbelief. "Me? What the hell am I talking about?" He threw his hands upwards in a gesture of disgust. "What do you mean, what the hell am I talking about?"
Jack blew out a long breath and sat down again. "Daniel, none of what you're describing happened. You hit your head in the shower - it must've, I don't know… Maybe it was just a dream."
"A dream." Daniel was scathing. "Right."
"It's possible," Jack offered.
"Uh-huh. So some of the other stuff I remember, that'd be a dream too, right?"
"Okay. So are you going to tell me you didn't send me a memo forbidding me to sit on the same side of the briefing table as you?"
Jack shook his head, apparently mortified at the idea. "No, why would I…"
Daniel raised his index finger, silencing Jack. "And you didn't tell me if I made any more sarcastic comments about your recent lack of fashion sense you'd sign me over to SG-11 permanently?"
"For crying out loud, Daniel. Of course I didn't. Although, yes, I was kind of hurt when you said those pants made me look like I was starring in a vaudeville musical." He sighed. "Look, do you want to know what really happened over the past few days?"
Daniel resisted the urge to tell Jack he *knew* what had happened. Trying to appear gracious he nodded. "I'd be interested in *your* version. Words of two or more syllables would be fine, by the way."
Jack ignored the comment. "Okay… well… actually…"
Daniel gave a long-suffering sigh.
"Okay. Okay. I don't know what you've been up to for the past couple of days, exactly. You've been preparing to go off world with SG-11 and…"
"See! See! You've signed me over to SG-11 because I couldn't keep quiet about that stupid hat you wear that makes you look like a pencil."
"I do not look like a pencil."
"You so do."
"Daniel! Can we just keep to the matter in hand?" Jack climbed to his feet again. "Look, I can prove to you there was no alien entity."
By way of reply Jack headed to the wall phone. Moments later he was back at Daniel's bedside, his expression one of expectant triumph.
"What?" Daniel demanded.
"You'll see. Just be a patient patient."
Daniel groaned. Two minutes later the infirmary door opened and Sam strolled in.
"You wanted to see me, sir." Her eyes widened at the sight of Daniel, her fingers touching her own eyebrow in silent empathy. "Ouch. What happened to you?"
"Sam! Yes! You really are fine!" He indicated Jack. "Tell him! Tell him how you were shouting to us when the entity uploaded you into the mainframe."
Jack waved Daniel down. "No, Carter! Tell Daniel that I didn't shoot you with a zat gun when you went running down the corridors wearing your pink pyjamas!"
Totally ignoring Jack, Daniel caught Sam's attention again. His face turned earnest. "Sam, I know things didn't turn out the way we wanted, but you were right to try and talk to the entity after it made its nest."
"Oh yeah, sure." Jack retorted. "And in which first contact handbook does it say its always best to have tea and cookies with something that's taken over your computer and made your MALP fly?"
Sam's gaze went from Daniel to Jack and back again. She shook her head, looking totally baffled. Her expression abruptly changed to one of relief as she saw Janet heading their way.
"Well," Janet said with brisk efficiency. "The MRI is all set."
"Thank goodness," Sam said. "So which of them is going first?"
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