The Message/The Reply, by Scribe (PG-13)

[figs_sg1_rec]

Rec Category: Daniel Jackson

Pairing: none
Categories: Daniel Jackson, Jack O'Neill, drama, angst, episode related
Warnings: non-sexual nudity, violence, some language
Author on LJ: sg1scribe
Author's Website: Daniel's Diaries
Link: The Message / The Reply 

Why This Must Be Read: These two fics, part of Scribe's infamous shower series, can be read individually; but when you put them together, the impact of the creepiness factor goes up exponentially, and leaves you very relieved that certain events in Season 4 weren't actually real.

Senator Kinsey warned Jack, in their confrontation in Chain Reaction, that "Doctor Jackson will be out of the SGC permanently." In The Message, Kinsey arranges for Jack to discover just how vulnerable Daniel and his teammates really are – and there doesn't seem to be anything Jack can do about it. But in The Reply, someone does do something about it. Sort of, anyway. It's the kind of elegant, vicious reciprocity that you would expect, if a particular person had chosen to take a specific path.

Read these two stories and shiver, just a bit, at the very plausible possibilities.
 

"So... despite your inability to score one over Caled, I really think we ought to consider going back."

Daniel's monologue stopped - first because he needed to draw breath and second because he was rinsing the disgusting filth from his hair and really didn't want to get a mouthful as it cascaded down his face.

Finally satisfied he was clean - well, above the neck any - Daniel pushed his hair back from his forehead and reached for another helping of his mint and tea tree shower gel. The muscles between his shoulder blades quivered - the unmistakable feeling that he was being watched suddenly over-powering. Relaxed and in a good-humour despite Jack's taunting, Daniel turned, a snarky comment about Jack's voyeuristic tendencies on the tip of his tongue.

Oh God! His eyes widened in panic at the sight of a masked man aiming a double-barrelled gun at his chest. His mouth opened to shout an alarm, but all that came out was a grunt of pain as something slammed into his solar plexus. He staggered back as the air cracked with a second shot and something hard smashed into his ribs just below his heart, driving his breath from him as cold tiles slammed against his naked back. Agonising pain flared as a third impact drove into his vulnerable flesh. Red - vivid, scarlet red - coloured his vision as his knees gave way and he slid inelegantly down the wall.