I'm dying. I just know it…I'm dying.

The world spun in a dark, sickening vortex of pain. Pinpricks of light swirled into colorful spirals as Dr. Daniel Jackson: archeologist, linguist, historian and anthropologist, hurled his guts into the illuminated corner of a no-longer antiseptic, blaringly white holding cell. His face beaded in a cold sweat as he fell backwards, leaning heavily against the cold wall as he slouched on the shiny white floor. His chest heaved as he struggled to gain control of his rebellious body.

Concentrate…breath. Just…breath…breath…bre…oh, cra…!

Daniel fell forward on his knees as the nauseating pain wracked his slender form and his now empty stomach began to convulse once again. His arms shaking, he balanced himself, gasping for air. Saliva slowly dribbled from his open mouth. His abdomen contracted again and his head jerked forward as he retched.

"Ohh…." He gasped and spit. " Oh, this cannot be good."

Reaching a tentative hand to his open mouth, Daniel stared at the crimson fluid strung between his slender fingers.

"This is definitely not good."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Y'all want more?

:o)