Power and Punishment
Epilogue

by Jb

If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death.
Shakespeare  (Othello)

Daniel looked away. He had been so insistent on doing this, virtually harassing General Hammond until the man made the special arrangements – probably more to get Daniel out of his hair than because he wanted to help – but now that he was actually here, Daniel wasn’t so sure he could handle it.

He found himself contemplating everything but what he had come here for, his gaze flitting from the empty chairs in front of him to the steel grey walls to the large barred window inset into the thick door. The heavily bolted, double-locked door, on the wrong side of which Daniel had purposefully and single-mindedly demanded to be allowed, unescorted and unmonitored.

The man at the other end of the room lounged against the far wall, which meant for Daniel that he was way too close for comfort.  It was a small room; entirely too small… and getting smaller and smaller by the minute. The walls were off-kilter, leaning in toward him, the eight foot ceiling far far too low for men of average height; it was well beyond claustrophobic. Daniel tried to take slow deep breaths; he felt as though he’d suffocate.

He needn’t have worried about his breathing, though. Breathing was a small thing he wouldn’t need to do again… because the very ability to draw breath left Daniel in a rush as he felt his lungs irrevocably collapse in on themselves when the man spoke.

"Afraid?"

‘Ohhh yess… afraid, very very afraid…’ That damned little voice that had plagued him since waking up in the infirmary at the SGC after… after it happened… was back again.

"I won’t do it, you know."

Daniel forced himself to look at John. He had to do this. Daniel had so far refused to give any statement on his abduction and the events that had followed, but people were getting impatient and he’d have to do it soon. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, not until he saw John.  Jack had said that the tape from the recorder under the bed was gone, destroyed; that John taking the fall for everything. Jack said that was as it should be. Jack said that Daniel was just the victim.

Daniel didn’t know if he could live with that. His little voice kept telling him that it was a lie.

He had thought he could handle facing John again, that the juxtaposition of roles would help to negate the powerful feelings and still fresh memories. But the big man looked just as big as before, despite the chains at his wrists and ankles, despite the plain grey coveralls and the muted surroundings. To Daniel, this man would be imposing no matter where he was, no matter what the context.

Daniel guessed he would always be afraid of this man. ‘Coward. That’s why they died… because you were so afraid of him that you let him use you; because you’re a coward.’ Daniel almost shouted out loud at the voice, to shut up.

It was Daniel’s choice to be here… not the little voice’s, not John’s, certainly not Hammond’s or Jack’s; their disapproval was self-evident. He knew he had to face up to John right here and now if he ever wanted the answers to the questions which were eating away at him. And now there was another, a brand new question, and while he still couldn’t bring himself to look the man in the eye, Daniel did manage to gather himself enough to ask it.

"What won’t you do?"

"Rat on you."

Of all the things Daniel had imagined John might say, that one was not even on the list. Even Daniel’s despised little voice had nothing to say to that one.

Chains rattled as John straightened up and shuffled forward. Daniel stiffened and stepped back, settling against the wall behind him.

"Doc… look at me. Look at me." The voice was soft, quiet. Paradoxically compelling in it’s undemanding sincerity. Daniel looked, and saw a faint smile… not a leer, not a grin, but a smile.

"This was decided back there, in that room… don’t you know that?" The faint smile widened into a quiet laugh. "I’m a practical kind of guy. When I see the handwriting on the wall, I pay attention… especially if I’m the guy who wrote it."

Daniel was thoroughly confused. "Handwriting… I, I don’t… I don’t understand."

"Yeah… the message I got loud and clear, back there." John shook his head ruefully and chuckled. "Never knew I had it in me. Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me telling them anything… that it was you that planned it out, that ended up setting Kinsey up for me."

The chains rattled again as John shuffled forward and settled onto one of the two chairs. "I told them I forced you to arrange the meet. Told them that I beat up on you until you agreed to do it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it."

For the moment, Daniel couldn’t even remember any of the questions which had tortured him over the last four days. The one big question which John’s words had provoked overshadowed every other thought.  "Why? Why did you do that?"

John just shook his head. "I got my own why to ask first. Why are you here? What do you want, Doc?"

"I… I don’t…" Daniel searched for the questions he needed answered, and dredged them out from under the baffling information he had just been given. "Oh. I wanted to know, uhm, why you had to kill them… it was working, Kinsey agreed; why didn’t you leave well enough alone?"

Now that he remembered why he had come, the outpouring of doubts and uncertainties was unstoppable. "Why did you leave me that gun, the one with the blanks? Did you plan to kill us right from the start? Were you using me the whole time, or did you just decide it at the end? And… and what were you going to do with my friends?  Kill them too?"

Then there was the clincher, the load of guilt and worry which was torturing Daniel the most. He stared at John with an intensity that sent tremors down his own body. "You… let me… why didn’t you kill me?"

John sighed and gave Daniel an exasperated look. "What… like, you wanted to die?"

Daniel felt the flush on his face. Struggling to look John in the eye, he answered as best he could. "I didn’t want anyone else to die."  Not able to hold the stare, he let his head drop. The truth was hard to admit. "You, you… you made me kill them."

"Oh holy cow. Where the hell do guys like you come from? You didn’t kill anybody. Look, shut up and sit down. You want some answers? I gave you the gun because I wanted to convince your friends you’d be safe in there with me. I never thought you’d have the guts to touch it, never mind shoot the damned thing. Making all that noise. Shit. And yeah, I used you all along. I let you come up with the plan to bring Kinsey to me, but there’s no way I was gonna put up with leaving anybody out there who could identify me."

Daniel lifted his head, shooting John a hard look. John interpreted it just fine. "Yup. You’re friends too. Only at first, I thought there’d only be one guy come riding to your rescue. But three? Christ… I almost shit a brick. Almost peed myself when the big black guy walked in."

Pain, fear, betrayal, humiliation, guilt; all the memories and feelings flooded through Daniel in a wave which threatened to crush him.  "I… I hate you."  Daniel started at the bitterness in his own voice.

"Yeah, I know that. But you know what?  I… I like you, Doc. So, you want to know why you’re still walking and talking? Want to know why I treated you the way I did?  Like, getting in front of you that night so you couldn’t get to the bathroom?  Pushing at you, teasing you? Same answer for everything, Doc. Because I liked you."

Daniel laughed, a strangled raspy sound that gave voice to the disbelief in his mind.

"That stuff I told you before about trust… well, it was true. Sure, I was using it to get to you, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to it. I respected you. You’re smarter than me, and you handled everything so well even though you were dead on your feet… and when I started to like you…. that… that gave you, I dunno, kind of like, power. I couldn’t afford that. I guess I punished you for that, because I needed to be the one in control."

"Quite the insight for a thug." Daniel intended to sound sarcastic, but he couldn’t do it. Because he thought he was beginning to understand. "You made a mistake… you should have shot me first."

John nodded. "Yeah. I was going to, but I liked you and I hesitated. Pointed the gun at the weasel instead. Then you picked up that damned gun… I could see you didn’t believe me, that you thought it was loaded with real shells. When I saw that you had the guts to put yourself on the line for those two pieces of shit, well… I winged you, but you shot it off anyway."

Daniel slowly nodded. He knew now that nothing he could have done would have made any difference in the long run.  "And then it was too late. But, but why, then? God… why? Why kill Samuels and Kinsey? You knew it was over…"

"For you, Doc. I did it for you."

Jack’s steady presence at Daniel’s side was comforting. Gravel crunched under their feet as they made their way across the parking lot. Daniel gave his friend a sidelong glance, and was surprised to find that Jack was looking right at him, openly appraising him. Daniel hadn’t felt Jack’s eyes on him.

"What?"

"You tell me." Jack raised his eyebrows. "Your perspective changed, Danny-boy?"

"Why do you ask?"

Daniel wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it just yet. He was still trying to make sense of it… to figure out how to deal with the knowledge that John had killed Samuels and Kinsey in the misguided belief that he was doing Daniel a favor. A favor... that he was protecting Daniel from anyone finding out about Daniel’s role – his intent – in luring Kinsey to the motel.

Daniel was waiting for his little voice to zealously spring into action, to taunt him, to tell him that, see, he was responsible for their deaths after all; that they did die because of him. And Daniel was afraid… afraid of that little voice in his head.

But the little voice was silent.

As they approached the jeep, Jack stopped walking and reached out for Daniel’s arm. He turned Daniel to face him. "Because… uh, you’re…" Jack looked faintly embarrassed. "You’re standing up straight, Danny."  He waved a hand. "Or something."

Daniel nodded. He felt like he could stand up, almost, straight again. Looking at the concerned face of his friend, Daniel knew that now was the time, even if he was still afraid, to test out that little voice.

"Jack, he killed them because he thought he was protecting me."

"I know, Daniel. He said it at the time, after you passed out. He convinced us to destroy the tape."

"I was prepared to face whatever I had to, Jack. God. I... I can’t be responsible for that kind of thinking. It’s… it’s horrible."  The little voice was still silent. "I was ready to live with the choices I made… but he didn’t give me the chance. That wasn’t my choice."

The little voice was gone.

"You weren’t responsible, Danny. You were just a victim all along. I’m sorry that it took so long for me to understand… but, hell, it took you even longer…"

Jack suddenly jumped. ‘Hey.. almost forgot…" he reached into the jeep and pulled out a 9x12 envelope. "Here. General Hammond asked me to give this to you when he missed you at the gate this morning."

Daniel opened the envelope to find a single sheet of the very finest parchment, delicately inscribed with sincere words of thanks and appreciation, beautifully finished off with a signature and an embossed official seal.

Jack looked over his shoulder. "Wow. From the President… I’m impressed, Danny-boy." The teasing left his voice and he touched Daniel’s shoulder. "Hang it up, Daniel. Somewhere where you can see it, every day. Because everything it says?  It’s the god-honest truth."

Daniel swallowed against the lump in his throat. People believed in him… Jack believed in him. But now, above all, Daniel believed in himself.

"Thanks, Jack. And you know what? I think I’ve got just the frame for this."

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