Shield, a Stargate SG-1 ice-breaker by Glacis. Rated NC17; set loosely after the events of Fire and Water but departs radically from canon after that.

Planet P3H-836 started out as benign as many another Stargate destination. No immediate threats, no blasts from any staffs or other deadly weapons, no flowing lava, no ice floes. Doctor Daniel Jackson shook off the effects of another trip through the tunnel. The first thing he did, by instinct now, was to check for the DHD. He rolled from foot to foot, regaining his balance after the wild ride, and made sure the DHD was in shape to get them home. After he ensured that it was intact, he looked around to see what the other members of SG-1 were up to.

That's when he saw the ship.

Teal'c caught sight of it at the same time, and aimed his staff directly at it, laying down covering fire for Jackson to dial them home, O'Neill and Carter half a second behind him.

It didn't do any of them a bit of good.

The energy beam struck them as Jackson was reaching for the final glyph to dial them home. Then there was pain, and then there was nothing.

Consciousness was slow in coming, announcing itself with a trumpet fanfare inside his skull that nearly imploded it. Jack rolled with a soldier's instinct, hand going for a rifle that was no longer there, before he even got his eyes all the way open. What he saw when he did get them focused caused him to bite off a curse.

A relatively slight, dark skinned man with face reflecting dead beauty stared back at him. Armored guards like cobras poised to strike flanked him. O'Neill stared at him and wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell it would take to kill the son of a bitch.

A stifled moan off to his side diverted his attention, and caught Apophis' eye. Teal'c was awake, and towering in a defensive position over the still-unconscious form of Captain Carter, and in a crumpled heap beside her, Daniel Jackson was just coming around. He'd been the one doing the moaning. The guard snapped even further to attention, if that was possible, as Apophis stepped down into their dungeon and walked toward Jackson. In an attempt to draw attention away from the anthropologist, O'Neill growled softly.

"Nice to see ya again, Apophis. It's about time for me to get a new pair of boots." Every Jaffa in the room, including Teal'c, looked at him like he was speaking Sanskrit. He grinned. "Like snakeskin. Wears well."

Apophis ignored him, turning toward Teal'c now. Carter had woken, and was crouched beside Teal'c, ready to fight. The Goa'uld leader stepped forward, staring with a mixture of disdain and contempt at his erstwhile Prime.

"Traitor," he hissed, and his eyes glowed as the power within him gathered for the strike. Before anyone else could move, Jackson, of all people, launched himself from the ground and body-blocked the Snake God.

Of course, all he did was bounce off and hurt himself, but he did at least interrupt the proceedings.

Apophis twisted to stare down at the curled over, but still glaring, form of the scientist. He paused, then cocked his head to one side. The glow in his eyes flickered, as if he was a radio transmitter and was receiving some sort of signal. Then he smiled. It was not pretty.

"DanielJackson," he said pleasantly, and Jack winced. There was a fully charged staff aimed at his belly, so he wasn't in much of a position to do anything, but he had a really bad feeling about this. The Goa'uld walked over to Jackson, staring down at him.

"Passion." If anything, Daniel's glare increased. He was getting his breath back -- he'd hit the floor pretty hard -- and he looked all set to launch himself at Apophis again. Not wanting his friend to commit suicide, Jack said softly, "No, Daniel. Whatever it is ... don't."

Jackson ignored him. So did Apophis. Sam gave him a panicked look, and Teal'c kept watching the guards, looking for a bare moment of inattention. The adrenaline surge peaked in O'Neill just as Apophis gestured for two of his guards to come forward. Jack kicked up and out to the side, Carter took her cue from him and surged under the staff aimed at her head to butt into the guard in front of her and Teal'c threw himself into the battle. It was short, ugly, and futile. Of course it didn't work.

Through the haze of pain as he writhed on the stone floor, Jack was dimly aware of Jackson screaming at Apophis and Apophis hissing back at Jackson. Then the red in front of his eyes spread to his whole body, and the world disappeared.

"Stop it, you son of a bitch! Leave them alone! Too goddamned much of a coward to do it yourself, gotta make slaves of people and make them do your dirty work, too damned fragile worms can't do anything without using us--"

An armored hand shot out and caught Jackson around the throat, cutting off the rush of angry words, clamping down as he scrabbled at the arm holding him and struggled for breath. Then the grip eased, not enough to let him talk, but enough to keep him from passing out, and he stared through eyes made teary from exertion at the bane of his existence.

"Such passion. There was a reason I chose your Sha're to be my consort."

The beloved name on the hated lips brought forth another extremely fierce, but very brief, struggle. On the edge of a blackout from lack of oxygen, Jackson felt more than saw the bulky form edge closer. There was a warm breath on the side of his face, then a husky whisper.

"She has shared her memories with me. You intrigue me. Such fire. Such passion." Jackson tried to growl, but couldn't get the sound past the fist closed around his windpipe. "Such hatred." Yeah, that was a good description. The voice started again, and he forced himself to stay alert long enough to figure out what the bastard wanted. "I would wager with you. You seek to protect your companions. I wish to destroy you."

Goes both ways, Daniel thought at Apophis as loudly as he could, since he couldn't talk.

"It will be enjoyable to bring such passion to heel. And it will be even more enjoyable to break you." The whisper moved closer, almost brushing his cheek, then the battle for consciousness grew too difficult, and he gave in to the blackness.

Apophis stared at the human slave who had been the thorn in his side for the past several months. Sha're was a good host, pleasing to the eye and pleasant of temperament, but her attachment to DanielJackson was a fierce one, and troubled Apophis' mate. By destroying this one, he would break that bond and free his mate from her unwanted distraction, while teaching the rest of the slaves an abject lesson. He would also enjoy himself. It had been too long since he had played like this. Smiling in anticipation, he nodded his head toward the three bodies sprawled about the floor.

"Activate the portal," he ordered. "Let them watch." Turning toward the door, he strode out, his guards flanking him, carrying the limp form of DanielJackson along with them.

Hell wasn't hanging, suspended by the wrists from chains hammered into the ceiling, naked, bleeding, back on fire and throat parched from screaming defiance at tormentors.

Hell was all of these things with his wife watching.

He'd always considered himself a gentle man, a man of science, a man of peace. He'd only ever really had one enemy, the one who had killed his adopted people and stolen his wife away from him. Deep in his mind, behind the trappings of civilization that separated Daniel Jackson from his distant ancestors, hatred grew as he watched his wife watch himself being beaten.

The Goa'uld would pay. For this, yes, but more ... for what they had done to Sha're.

His body betrayed him, eventually, as his bowels released and his bladder gave, as his eyes rolled up in his head and his muscles spasmed. But his mind simply withdrew, and the hatred solidified.

There was a buzzing in the back of her head, gradually overtaking the pain that threatened to make her brain pop. Sam looked around wildly, taking in the slowly rousing figures of Teal'c and the Colonel, before movement above her took her attention. The scene on the viewscreen made her breath catch in her throat.

"Oh, my god," she whispered, and it was enough to catch the men's attention. They scrabbled stiffly toward her, defensively, and she pointed a shaky finger at the screen. Daniel was stripped and chained, hanging limply, as Apophis laid into him with some sort of flail. Energy flared each time the whip landed, snaking along white skin, leaving behind trails of bright scarlet blood. To the side, watching avidly, a young woman sat, hands trailing up and down her arms as if she was cold. Conflicting expressions of pain and excitement chased themselves across her face.

O'Neill moved closer, and Sam found herself leaning against him unconsciously. "He'll kill him," she stuttered out. Beside her, Teal'c shook his head.

"No. Apophis will not kill him. He will merely inflict great pain. One more dead slave is no lesson to anyone."

Sam and Jack exchanged glances. They had to get out of there and rescue Daniel.

Now.

He didn't remember losing consciousness the third or fourth time, but when he came to, he found himself lying in a soft bed, covered with ointment and bandages. He'd been bathed, and his wounds treated, but he was still alone, and every part of his body ached, from his scalp to his toes. Gathering what was left of his strength, he tried to roll over and get up off the bed.

That's when he discovered that his wrists were shackled to the bedstead.

The mattress behind him gave, and he froze. Long, elegant dark hands came over his wrists, caressing the padded manacles and tracing along the tensed muscles in his arms. Not Sha're.

Apophis.

His entire being shuddered at the thought of being in bed with that alien murdering parasite wearing a man's body. He jolted forward, only to be stopped by a strong arm wrapped around his waist, holding him in place.

"You withstand pain well, DanielJackson. However, your suffering disturbed my mate. So I will destroy you another way. More pleasurably. For me. For you? Hopefully. That will make the humiliation complete."

Before Daniel could wrap his mind around what Apophis was threatening, he felt a warmth along his side, and heard a gentle humming noise. The node in the center of Apophis' palm was glowing, and along its path, his skin was tingling. The tingling grew, quickly, until it felt like every nerve struck by the glow was dancing. The hand moved, along his torso, over his shoulder, back down his spine. The heat pressed over his buttocks, parted them, then glided further down to force his thighs apart and rest over his genitals. Against his will, he began to moan.

Part of his mind was horrified at how easily Apophis was turning him on. Another part, calling on barely remembered anatomy lessons as an undergrad, reminded him that autonomous reaction couldn't be counted against him -- mammals would react to specific stimuli irregardless of intent or motivation. The rest of him, the majority of him, wanted to throw up and die. The ache in his muscles and the pain in his sliced skin seemed to blend with the oscillation of the glow over his body, until he trembled like fine crystal under the barrage of conflicting stimulation. He clenched his jaw until he could almost hear the enamel cracking on his teeth, but the moans, now whimpers, were continuous. Moisture was leaking from the corners of his eyes with the effort to deny Apophis any sort of reaction.

It wasn't working.

His body was responding against his will, ignoring the mind shrieking at it to fight, to hate, to shrivel, to stop. A warm mouth latched on to the side of his neck and began biting and licking, a lean thigh wedged itself between his, laying him open. Knowing fingers probed him, and he clenched tightly in unconscious defiance, but the struggle for dominance didn't last long. The fingers reached deep, and his body convulsed around the sensation as his prostate was expertly stroked. His erection filled and dug into the soft cushions below him even as he squirmed frantically trying to escape.

"Stop it!" Restraint finally broke and he started babbling, screaming, insults, pleas, any words his tongue could form.

The hands, the body, the mouth didn't even slow down. They intensified their efforts, and he sobbed into the pillow, pure unadulterated rage pouring from him in a torrent of incoherent noise. He bit into the soft cloth as the pressure built behind him and Apophis forced his way in, the pain not as deep as he'd expected, as he'd hoped, not enough to mask the unwilling pleasure.

His mind spun dizzily, images of Sha're under him, around him, holding him, spinning off to the madly glowing eyes of the alien wearing her body as he was beaten, and he shied violently away from that mental vision. This was truly alien to him, and his memories of love with his wife were no shield for him now. He cast about wildly for something, anything, to hold on to, any bulwark to save his sanity as his body was driven mercilessly over the edge of orgasm. As he heard the shout of triumph behind him, he threw his head back and howled to the sky, holding on to the one image that would protect him, replace the abomination controlling him and keep his mind safe even as his body was taken from him.

"JACK!"

Complacency on their home turf had given the SG-1 team an edge, and they took it. Trying their best to ignore the Technicolor play-by-play of Daniel being raped by the Snake, they'd used T'ealc's inside knowledge of how the Goa'uld security worked to, in essence, hot-wire the security grid and spring the door. The guards hadn't been expecting an attack from behind, and went down easily.

As the last of the guards fell, O'Neill glanced back over his shoulder. Looked like Apophis was just finishing up.

So was Daniel.

He winced as he saw the young man being forced to climax, then froze in place, feeling like he'd been pole-axed, at what Daniel screamed as he came.

No way.

No fucking way.

Shaking his head to clear it, determined to take each thing in its place and deal with whatever he had to whenever he had to IF he had to, he signaled the team to move out. Teal'c took point, heading directly for the inner chambers and torching the hell out of the corridors as they went. Carter was his de facto wingman, and Jack took the rear, taking great pleasure in blasting the shit out of everything that moved.

By the time they got to the royal bedroom, or whatever the hell the parasites called it, the alert was out. The halls were swarming with hostiles, they were running low on ammunition, and Jackson was buck naked and passed out in the middle of a bed the size of Iowa.

Jack had been in better tactical situations.

Then a weird, lowing noise broke out, and Teal'c froze.

"What's that?" Jack barked, looking around intently for the foes he'd been shooting moments before.

"An all arms call to return to the Ship -- an alarm for imminent departure," Teal'c replied. He looked over at Jack. "We must get out of here, Colonel O'Neill. Now."

With that, he reached down, snagged Daniel and the silk sheet wrapped around him, and tossed him over one broad shoulder. Jack and Carter lay down a spray of covering fire and they ran like hell through several side corridors, through a rounded hatch, and down the side of a hill, scrabbling into the covering bush. To their surprise, they were only a few hundred feet from the Stargate. Before Jack could make for the DHD, Teal'c grabbed him and threw him flat, then threw himself over him. Trying to draw air into flattened lungs, Jack shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it when he heard the distinctive whoosh of air and felt the dirt whipping against them.

Wiggling enough to be able to see around the bulk of his Jaffa protector, Jack squinted up at the rapidly disappearing ship. "Hmph. For a guy in the mood for love, he was sure in a hell of a hurry to evacuate the premises."

Teal'c rolled off him and stared at the vapor trail from the now-gone craft. "Apophis rules through fear. For him to leave with such haste could mean that there is an emergency within his ranks."

Jack grinned. "The natives getting restless?"

"That's one word for it," Sam piped up, then propped a groggy, dazed Jackson up beside her. "He's bleeding, Colonel. We need to get him back to medlab."

Jack lost his grin and grabbed up his gun. "Can you dial us home, Daniel?"

The half-closed blue eyes shifted away, and Jackson struggled to his feet, pulling away as swiftly as he could when Sam tried to help him. Without a word, he headed for the gate. Teal'c exchanged glances with Jack, then headed off to hover behind him, ready to catch the young man if he fell over.

He didn't.

Leaning against the cool pedestal, Jackson pressed the seven glyphs in order and lurched toward the roaring surface of the gate. Just before he fell in, face first, Jack caught up with him. Ignoring his silent protest, Jack wrapped him up in the sheet and held him tightly all the way home.

Their appearance through the Stargate caused quite a stir. Janet Fraiser came running, and had Jackson on a stretcher before he knew what hit him. General Hammond held the preliminary debriefing in the infirmary, not that he had to hear much beyond the one word O'Neill threw at him over Daniel's prone body as Fraiser put fresh bandages on the cuts: "Apophis." Hammond growled, the entire team agreed, and Fraiser tossed them out on their collective butts so she could see to her patient.

The content of the private debriefing in Hammond's office with only O'Neill present stayed just that -- private.

Jackson didn't say much, but Carter saw a hardness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, and quietly mourned for the loss of whatever innocence the man might have had left. Teal'c offered what comfort he could. He told Daniel that he was a very brave man.

Daniel laughed. It sounded like it hurt.

Jack let him go two whole days without speaking to him. Then he tracked young Doctor Jackson down and sat him down to have a little talk with him. It was little, all right. Jack tried to start the conversation five different times, sputtered through all of them, then gave up as Daniel looked right through him. Finally, Jack decided to give it some time and try again later. When Daniel was healed.

It was harder than it should have been. Fraiser had let him know that Apophis hadn't done much physical damage, but she recommended that Daniel receive counseling, and appended that recommendation to his medical report. Hammond turned the recommendation into an order. Jackson snowed 'em all. Just two weeks after the 'incident', as Jack had taken to calling it, Daniel was declared fit for duty and put back on the roster.

The night before their first mission since the disaster on P3H-836, Jack squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and marched into the bunk room where Daniel was pretending to sleep.

"Hey, Daniel," he offered, not sounding nearly as sure as he thought he should have.

"What is it, Jack?" The tone defined neutral.

"Are you okay?" That wasn't quite what he wanted to know, but it was a good opener.

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here," Daniel responded wearily, rolling over to turn his back toward the door, shutting Jack out. "But I do need to get some sleep, so-"

"With me."

Dead silence, then Jackson flopped over on his back. "What are you talking about, Jack?"

He swallowed, then lowered himself gingerly on edge of the next bunk. "Are you okay with me? You know ... that Apophis broadcast what he did to you."

Daniel stiffened, but met Jack's gaze steadily. "Yeah?" The blue eyes had deepened, until they were opaque mirrors, giving nothing away.

"Why did you call my name?" Quiet, no reproach, simple friendly curiosity. Jack put as much support as he could into the question.

Jackson swallowed, once, then again, before he finally opened his mouth. "You're my shield." His voice sounded like his throat was lined with broken glass.

Jack tilted his head, trying to figure it out. "How so?"

Daniel smiled at him, or at least tried to. It came out closer to a grimace. "I needed someone to hang on to, someone to put between me and ... him."

"And you picked me?" Conditioning and defensive behavior dating back to his childhood demanded Jack make a wisecrack, but he just couldn't do it.

"I trust you," Daniel said simply. This time, it was Jack's turn to swallow before he could speak.

"Uhm ... thanks." He shook his head slightly. "I think." Daniel grinned at him again, and this time it looked more like the real thing. "This mean you don't wanna sleep with me?" He had no idea where that had come from.

Daniel looked at him, grin slipping, then widening again, before he finally cracked up. "Not any time soon," he managed. Jack grinned back.

"Good. Feeling's mutual." Ignoring the niggling little voice at the back of his mind that was calling him a dirty liar, he patted Daniel's shoulder and turned toward the door. "See you in the morning. Sleep tight."

Jack convinced himself that he only imagined the whispered "In my dreams." It was safer that way.

end