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Jack never needed to know, Daniel decided as he fired his handgun. The bullet drove a hole through the Jaffa's head and he was unrepentant. Close to unmoved.
Jack never needed to know this about him.
With drilled-in precision and quickness, he took out another Jaffa whose faulty aim was his last mistake. Killing was coming all so smoothly to him. Fierce perfection. Balm to his wounds. With frightful clarity he realised that he could really get high on this because it meant revenge. Talion in its most brutal interpretation. A red haze of gunshots and ejected casings. Hot metal inflicting irreparable damage. He could kill them all. He had the skill, had the ammo, and as whatever deity up there was his witness, he'd plant a bullet into each and every Jaffa that got in his way.
God, the horrible thoughts that swarmed in his head.
No, Jack never needed to know this. The blunt madness, the calculated violence Daniel was capable of. Never needed to know how love and grief could turn his best friend into a roaring, bloodthirsty beast. He'd never tell and Jack was now past seeing for himself.
His skin crawled with icy shivers, and his brain told him it was a good thing; it showed he was functional and alert. Taking advantage of a lull in the fire exchange, he groped blindly for Jack's P-90 and holstered his nine mil. Heavier firepower was required if he wanted to get things done.
He'd had enough of screwing up. All the people that mattered to him... they'd all died violent, messy deaths. And he'd always been helpless to stop it. Useless.
Well not this time.
He swung about and took out yet another Jaffa - a bullet to the throat, he noticed with detached satisfaction as crimson blood sprayed far. Not bad for a four-eyed geek. But then he'd spent so much time at the shooting range, training and practicing to make sure he wasn't a liability to his teammates. His hands were sure now, though a bit clammy from the rush. His breaths were well-timed and the P-90 felt good and sure in his grip. The hard jolt of recoil felt right.
He ducked behind the console again when staff blasts responded, showering him with sparks and shards of polymer. The smell of burnt crystals and singed technology made him cough, but he was glad to have something new impregnating the air, something that momentarily covered the pungent odour of charred flesh and bone. His throat tightened, his eyes closed briefly as pain screamed inside his chest, threatening to unbalance the precarious insanity that kept him going - he couldn't break down now. Later maybe.
Crouched beside Jack, Daniel listened intently. He could hear them deploying into the room; only a couple of them. They'd seen Jack fall, and they considered Daniel as small fish. He waited quietly, breathing deep and even. He brought down his left hand to fondly trace the silver temple that already seemed to be growing cold. He waited, jaw clenched while he strove to empty his mind of any thought. He waited, waited, and then he sprang out of cover and let loose. The two Jaffa went down one after the other in a flurry of metallic 'pings' and organic 'tchuts'. Such indecent, revolting pleasure at having reached the target. Admittedly disgusting, but so goddamn necessary. So expressly vital.
Everybody thought Daniel was a good man. How wrong they were.
Heavy boots stomped in the hallway. More Jaffa. More targets on which Daniel could take out his manic rage. He'd never wanted this. He'd never, ever thought he'd live to see himself dealing death so easily. So eagerly. But that was then, and this was now.
He had little white bits of Jack's lungs and ribcage sprayed all over the sleeve of his BDUs.
And that meant he'd paint the decks of the mothership with Goa'uld and Jaffa gore if he had to.
He felt more than up to the task.
Daniel took several deep, steadying breaths, then, with the coast finally clear, he fisted the collar of Jack's tac vest and dragged his friend towards the door. Damn heavy. Good thing the floor was so smooth. He had to be quick because anytime now the Jaffa outside would throw a shock grenade into the room and that would be all she wrote.
It didn't fail. He was three feet from the doorway when the grey ball rolled briskly inside. He didn't even think. The suicidal reflex was to kick it and so he did. Nearly broke his toe in the process, but it bounced back into the corridor and skittered down to the right. The Jaffa cursed furiously. The grenade went off.
Everything turned to white piercing pain and Daniel curled up protectively over Jack, as unnecessary as that was.
For a moment he couldn't even hear himself panting for breath. Aptly named shock grenade, he thought dizzily. He could still see, though, with an addition of annoying red dots blinking frantically in his field of vision. He got to his feet again and checked the hallway. Five Jaffa lay there, totally unresponsive. Daniel didn't lose time and cleared a path through the bodies with his boots, then went back inside for Jack.
One hand holding the P-90 at the ready and the other clutching Jack's vest, he trudged down the corridor, dragging his precious burden even as he spared a thought to curse his best friend's addiction to pie.
He didn't encounter any opposition. He could hear rushed activity in the deck above, Sam and Teal'c obviously putting the finishing touches to the mission. He even heard some Jaffas talking breathlessly in adjacent hallways, but he never swerved or stopped. There was only one place he wanted to reach and nothing but his own death would, in fact, slow him down. He took a turn left and went deeper into the mothership. Another turn, and another. Jack still weighing a ton. The bunching muscles in Daniel's arm gradually seizing. His fingernails slowly turning painful under the strain, like someone was just taking their time ripping them out with pliers.
Then someone tried to stop him; the Jaffa guarding the transportation rings opened fire on him, nearly taking his head out with one particularly vicious shot. Staff blasts came pouring in quick succession, denting and blackening the walls of the hallway, crippling the corner behind which Daniel was hiding, and Daniel was beginning to seriously wonder how he was going to make it, until a glancing blast hit Jack who was slumped at his feet, nearly ripping the lifeless arm out of its socket.
And that made Daniel mad all over again. How DARE he?!
Daniel came out of cover, teeth gritted, his pounding heart an abyss of unthinking hate - he made a mess of the Jaffa's face. Fucking bastard. For an insane second, he wished there had been more guards in the room, more bad guys to saturate with lead, because, God, the anger... The white-hot pain. Sorrow burned him. It rotted and rankled in the pit of his stomach, drenched his soul in thick, cloying blackness, driving him crazy with violence.
But he had to focus. He wouldn't mess up this time.
Fear and adrenaline made all his muscles tense and quiver as he pulled Jack into the middle of the room. He made sure to fold Jack slightly into the recovery position so he fitted well within the rings, then he tore the command-device from the Jaffa's wrist and came to stand over Jack, activating the rings.
When the bright flash of light deposited him at his destination, Daniel was ready. He was on the upper deck of the same mothership - where any self-respecting System Lord would have his quarters. Here, too, there was only one Jaffa standing by the rings; the guard hardly had time to raise his staff weapon - he was dead before he could fire.
Daniel went into the corridor to check the lay of the land and heard two sets of clanging boots running towards him. Company. No time to think. He ducked back into the room and dragged Jack to the doorway, briefly arranging him in plain sight and silently apologizing for using his body as Jaffa bait. Daniel then glued himself to the wall, hidden from view as much as possible, and waited.
Really dumb plan, he thought as the boots came closer.
The two Jaffa slowed down to a halt at Jack's feet, just outside the room; the scene was obviously perplexing them - a Jaffa and a Tau'ri, both dead. A guard prodded Jack's lower belly with the end of his staff weapon for signs of responsiveness - as if the broken ribcage and scorched flesh could be in any way misinterpreted.
The disrespectful gesture was more than Daniel could stand; he mowed them down, showing no mercy.
And once again he was grabbing Jack by the collar and dragging him through the hallways, getting closer and closer to their destination. When they finally reached it, Daniel was so hyped up, he didn't even bother to take cover; he just dropped Jack and marched on the enemy, eye on sight and steadily firing on the dismayed Jaffa. On the dead Jaffa.
Finally there.
Orpheus at the gates of Hell. Daniel felt irresistible exhilaration bubbling to the surface. He'd made it. No matter the bloodshed. He'd made it and only the result counted.
Daniel leaned over Jack, closing his senses and his mind against the reality of the dead body, and carefully hoisted him up in a fireman carry.
Past and present blurred and met - he was again trusting a body to a sarcophagus. However, whereas he'd been able, several years ago, to deposit Sha're's light weight tenderly into the device, he could only let Jack's heavier body slide clumsily into it now.
He took the time to arrange the corpse into a comfortable position, gingerly straightening the mangled dogtags over the mangled chest.
The sarcophagus closed and started to hum as Daniel slid down to sit on the floor against it.
Sarcophagus, he reflected numbly. Eater of flesh.
Daniel certainly hoped so. Hoped the machine would eat that dead carcass and spit out a living and breathing Jack. A nervous sob escaped him and he closed his eyes and rubbed a dirty, bloodied hand to his sweaty brow. He wished the device could eat up the memories too. The memory of what death did to Jack's body, to Jack's features.
Of what Jack's death did to Daniel's soul.
He shuddered.
The sarcophagus hummed.
Long, empty minutes trickled by, and Daniel tried to blot out the atrocities he'd just committed to bring his best friend back to life. The phrase "All is fair in love and war" came to his mind and it was so awfully true it made him nauseous. There would be nightmares in his near future, he knew that. He would have to face them on his own, he knew that. He accepted that it was a small price to pay to have Jack back.
The sarcophagus went silent. Then slowly opened. Daniel was ready for it.
"Whoa, crap!" Those were Jack's first words upon waking up. Daniel watched him hurriedly sit up; it was amusing to see the brown eyes go wide with questions when Jack realized where he was. "What the...?!"
"Hey," Daniel said quietly.
Jack swept a curious hand over the huge gaping hole in his vest and t-shirt. The stark contrast between the healthy, slightly hairy chest and the gory, singed material made Daniel's throat constrict with something close to feral pride.
"Come on," he said, forcing the words out, "Sam and Teal'c will wonder what the delay is."
Jack hopped out of the device with an ease that nearly tore a hysterical sob from Daniel.
Jack patted down the legs of his BDUs to shake off imaginary dust, checked on the blackened tear in his sleeve, then he looked up at Daniel who handed him his P-90.
"Dinner's on me tonight," Jack simply said.
Daniel quirked a smile. "Deal."
They went out into the corridor. They stepped over the dead Jaffa. Jack didn't say anything, just levelled a knowing look towards his friend; Daniel saw regret and admiration. And Daniel knew he could finally slip back into his role. Slink back into his kind, soft-spoken geek persona. He would make sure they took another route to the death glider bay to meet up with Sam and Teal'c. Avoid the worst of it.
Jack never needed to know Daniel could hate so fiercely and kill so well.
He never needed to know how much Daniel loved him.