Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only.

Season/Spoilers: Forever in a Day

Notes: I frequently find inspiration in music, and this story was no exception. I've included some lyrics from the song that gave me the title at the beginning of the story, and some additional lyrics from another at the end. I highly recommend JayEm's wonderful music vid "The Widowing Field," which was what started this whole story forming in my head. You can find it on Ancient's Gate, Jmas' website.

Synopsis: Sha're is dead and Daniel has lost his way. A mission gone wrong forces him to deal with who and what he's become.

The Widowing Field

By Sunrise

I'm sure that I can never make it through the night without you here

The fires in the sky illuminate the demons closing in

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last to go

As I crawl around these trails, fight upon this widowing field

The ground below is bare and burned with the places I have learned to trust you

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last to go

The Widowing Field -- Jars of Clay

Chapter 1

"Come on in, Jack. Have a seat."

Uh-oh. Jack pasted on a smile and took the indicated chair. The fact that Hammond was conducting this meeting in his office, coupled with the absence of his teammates set off all Jack's warning bells.

Something was on George's mind, and he had a pretty damn good idea what it was.

"How's Dr. Jackson?"

Yup. Pretty much what he'd expected.

"Turns out hardheadedness actually comes in handy. Doc says a good night's rest and he should be just fine." Jack picked a paperclip off the corner of the desk and twisted it into a triangle.

"That's good news."

"It's also old news." He stopped fiddling with the piece of metal and met Hammond's concerned blue eyes. "I heard Fraiser speaking with you on the phone, Sir. You didn't call me here to rehash Daniel's medical condition."

"In a manner of speaking, it's exactly why you're here, Colonel. But I think you already know that."

The tart reply reminded Jack that Hammond's familiarity only extended so far. He unconsciously straightened his slumped posture. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you aware that Dr. Jackson has been injured on three out of the last ten missions?"

Actually, it was four if you included the slice to his palm from an overzealous native's spear. Except he'd let Daniel coax him into not reporting it, both to Fraiser and during the debriefing.

"Well, you know what they say, Sir. 'Gate travel can be hazardous to your health."

"Jack. You and I both know that covering for him isn't in Dr. Jackson's best interest. Or SG-1's."

Hammond was right, and he damn well knew it. Jack had been wrestling with his own doubts where Daniel was concerned. For that matter, he'd seen both Carter and Teal'c watching their archeologist when Daniel wasn't looking.

"He would never put his teammates at risk, Sir."

"I believe you. But that's not the problem, is it?"

Jack clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to look away. "No, Sir."

"Level with me, Jack. Is he suicidal?"

Jack flinched. All these weeks watching Daniel, searching for some sign that things were getting better, when in his heart of hearts he knew the opposite to be true. He'd stubbornly refused even to think the word, though it flitted at the edges of his consciousness, a nagging fear that he couldn't quite banish.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, abruptly exhausted. "I... General, I don't believe Daniel would actively seek his own death."

"But?"

Saying it hurt more than he would've imagined. "I don't think he's actively avoiding it, either."

"Then, Colonel, we have a problem." Hammond stood and walked to the window overlooking the 'gateroom. "As of this moment, I'm placing Dr. Jackson on stand down pending a full psychiatric evaluation."

Jack sprang to his feet. "Sir, you can't do that!"

Hammond shook his head. "Jack, it's already done."

"Just...just please, listen to me for a minute. For three years Daniel has lived and breathed for one purpose--finding and freeing his wife from the Goa'uld. When Teal'c...when Sha're died, so did his reason for getting up in the morning. He's not only grieving, Sir, he's adrift. SG-1 is the only thing he's got to hold onto, the only thing keeping him from flying apart. You take that away, and we *will* lose him."

Hammond hesitated, then sighed. "All right. It's against my better judgement, but I'll allow him to remain on the team. For now. But only if he agrees to regular therapy sessions. With someone other than Dr. McKenzie," he added when Jack grimaced.

Daniel was going to go ballistic. Still, it was better than being pulled off the team. Jack nodded. "Agreed. Thank you, Sir."

"That's all, Colonel. You're dismissed."

"Sir." He turned to leave, feeling as if Daniel had just dodged the proverbial bullet. Again.

Hammond's soft voice caught him at the door. "I hope you're right about this, Jack."

Jack paused but didn't turn back. "So do I, Sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fraiser ambushed him the moment he stepped into the infirmary. "Colonel, I'd like a word with you in my office, if you don't mind."

Crap. He'd already done this dance with Hammond. "I, ah, just popped in to check on Daniel, see if he needs anything." He inclined his head toward the exam area, and actually managed four steps before she reeled him back in.

"Perfect. I can fill you in on his condition before you do." When he didn't move right away, she swept her arm toward the door. "After you, Sir."

Déjà vu. Seated in another chair, across another desk, Jack watched Fraiser lay her folded hands on the blotter and lean forward. "Colonel, when was the last time you looked at Daniel?"

Oh for cryin'... "I try not to. You know how the rumor mill is around here. People are so quick to talk." He batted his eyes.

"Colonel."

Great, now she was pissed. Jack folded his arms and countered with his best hardassed Colonel glare. "Fine. The last time I looked at him was about an hour ago when I hauled him back through the 'gate and deposited him into your capable hands."

"I think you know that's not what I meant."

He knew exactly where Fraiser was headed and he so did not want to go there. Jack blew out a long breath of air. "Okay, so he's, uh, lost a little weight."

"Ten pounds."

*Ten*? Jack opened his mouth but the grim expression on Fraiser's face killed his protest. "I didn't realize it was that much."

Her lips twisted in a rueful little smile. "Flak jackets conceal a multitude of sins, Colonel. And I've noticed he's taken to wearing sweaters and oversized flannel shirts when off duty."

Jack scowled. "You're saying he's deliberately concealing it?"

Fraiser just looked at him.

"That little shit."

"The truth of the matter is he's not sleeping any better than he's eating. Daniel's always had a propensity for burning the midnight oil, but lately he's here till all hours, holed up in his office with those damn translations."

Jack regarded her with narrowed eyes. "How do you know so much?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I have an extensive spy network, Sir. You'd do well to remember that."

Which partially explained why someone half his size scared the shit out of him. "Doc, I've got a handle on the situation."

"With all due respect, Sir, you could have fooled me. I think you should know that I've recommended Daniel be temporarily removed from active duty."

"General Hammond and I had this discussion not ten minutes ago. He's agreed to leave Daniel on the team with the stipulation that Daniel talk to someone."

"He said that?" Janet pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I think you're both making a big mistake. Daniel needs--"

"Daniel needs something to put his back against. He *needs* the team. Now, if that's all..."

Janet followed his lead and stood. Her rigid spine and frosty voice told him that while the conversation may have ended, she was far from finished. "He has a grade 2 concussion. I'm willing to release him in the morning, provided someone stays with him."

Jack pressed his hand to his heart. "I'm your man."

Daniel lay on a gurney, a hospital gown in place of his blood-stained black tee shirt and BDUs. One arm was thrown over his eyes, partially concealing the white bandage at his temple.

Jack tapped one long leg. "Wakey, wakey, Daniel. Doc says you gotta spend the night, but I can take you home in the morning."

Moving his arm just enough to peer at Jack, Daniel squinted against the bright lights. "Huh?"

"A little disorientation is completely normal," Fraiser said, sotto voce. Raising her voice, she took Daniel's arm. "Come on, Dr. Jackson. Let's sit you up so I can take a look at you."

With Jack helping, Daniel let her ease him upright. He moaned, arms wrapped around his stomach. "Oh, God. I feel like I'm going to puke."

"And nausea," Janet added.

"Better kick that by morning, Dannyboy. Puking is not allowed at Chez O'Neill. Or in the car on the way there, for that matter."

Daniel scowled at him as he breathed carefully through his mouth. "Then it's a good thing I'll be going home."

"I'll release you under supervision only, Daniel." Fraiser finished taking his pulse and pulled out her penlight. "I'm afraid it's either Colonel O'Neill's place or you stay here."

"That's some--ow!" He flinched, pulling away from Fraiser's gentle grip on his chin. "--some choice."

"Photosensitivity and irritability. Also normal," Fraiser murmured.

"Who wouldn't be irritated? You shined that light right in my eye." Daniel stuck his lip out. In his rumpled hair and sock feet he looked like a cranky preschooler.

"What do you mean, 'some choice'? What's wrong with my place?"

"Lousy coffee."

"Geez, you're an ungrateful little... I'll have you know I went out and bought some of that overpriced European dark roast after the last time you whined about my coffee."

"I do not whine."

"You so do."

"Don't."

"Do."

Daniel opened his mouth only to grimace and clutch his head.

"Did I mention one heck of a headache?" Janet stepped between them and helped Daniel settle into a semi-reclined position. "Daniel, you know the drill with a head injury. I can give you Tylenol with codeine, it should make the pain manageable."

Daniel gritted his teeth. "Not to be crude, Janet, but anything you ask me to swallow is going to make a repeat appearance."

"I figured as much. Fortunately, there's a simple solution--I can administer codeine via an intramuscular injection."

"Wow, that's awful good news."

She ignored the sarcasm. "I'll get you some now, and then you can sleep."

"Not for long. How can I possibly sleep when every time I do you shine that stupid light in my eyes and ask me what my name is?"

Fraiser smiled sweetly at Jack. "He's all yours. I'll be back in a few minutes with the meds."

"Gee, thanks."

Jack watched Daniel squirm, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights as he searched for a comfortable position. Jack observed the dark circles beneath blue eyes that looked too large in Daniel's thin face. The hospital gown had slipped off one shoulder, revealing a too-prominent collarbone. Damn. Fraiser was right. He hadn't really been looking at his friend. Maybe deep down he'd been afraid of what he'd see.

Daniel caught him looking and quickly tugged the gown back into place, his eyes skittering away from Jack's. His long fingers plucked at the blanket and he gnawed on his lower lip.

"Go home, Jack. At least one of us can get a decent night's sleep."

//I'll let it go for now, Danny. But you and I are going to have a serious talk.//

"Actually, I think I'll just crash on base tonight. It's already late, and I have to be back here bright and early to spring you from Dr. Dread."

"I heard that, Colonel." Fraiser bustled in, giving him her death glare as she pushed up the gown and swabbed Daniel's arm.

Daniel frowned at the hypodermic in her hand. "What's that?"

"Tylenol, Daniel. For the headache, remember?" she answered patiently. She swiftly injected the contents and capped the empty syringe. "Five minutes," she warned Jack. "He needs sleep." The underlying message was clear: Don't say anything to upset him.

Jack saluted lazily. "Gotcha."

Daniel curled up on his side, one hand tucked beneath his chin. "I hate hospitals."

Jack folded his arms and leaned one hip on the mattress. "I don't think they rank high on anyone's list."

Daniel's eyelids drooped. "They remind me of social services. The dorm rooms all had metal-framed cots that looked like hospital beds."

Jack went still. Daniel never voluntarily talked about this aspect of his childhood. This was the concussion talking. Feeling guilty, he listened as his friend rambled on.

"There were eight of 'em to a room so you never got any privacy. Someone was always around to bug you, pick on you. Smelled like a hospital too, like disinfectants and puke." He yawned and his eyes slid all the way shut. "I hated it there. Cried every time I had to go back."

Throat tight, Jack patted one blanket-covered leg. "It's only for tonight, Danny. I promise I'll bust you outta here first thing in the morning."

Daniel didn't open his eyes, but his lips curved. "'K. Thanks, Jack."

"You're welcome."

He waited until Daniel's breathing evened out, then stood, careful not to jostle the mattress. Feeling a little foolish, he tucked the covers more securely around his friend's body.

"Good night, Daniel. Sweet dreams."

More than empty words, he meant it as a benediction. With a last glance at his friend's peaceful face, Jack headed off to his own bed.

Continued in Chapter 2