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"That was boring," Vala announces as the wormhole shuts off behind them. She strides down the ramp of the gate room like a prisoner freed after two decades locked up.
Daniel knows when he's being baited. Unfortunately, Vala's just a little too good at pushing his buttons, and General Landry, standing at the end of the ramp, is looking at them with a raised eyebrow like he's waiting for someone to confirm or deny her assessment. And so, Daniel says, "It was not boring."
It's a little too waspish for his own taste, but it gets the sentiment across.
Vala turns, nearly whacking the general in the face with a swish of dark hair. "Did anything happen? No." She spreads her hands in a QED kind of way.
"We didn't get shot at," Daniel retorts, "but that doesn't mean it was boring. We—"
But General Landry speaks, directing a long-suffering look in Mitchell's direction. "Colonel?" he cuts Daniel off.
Daniel snaps his mouth shut, trying not to feel offended. It's kind of difficult when Sam is doing a terrible job of repressing an amused smile.
"We found an old Ancient cache, sir," Mitchell summarizes, and gestures with his thumb at the now shut-off gate, like he can point at the planet itself. "Colonel Carter will be able to give you a better overview of the tech we found, and Jackson spent some time recording carvings, so I'm assuming he'll have something to say."
Daniel bites back the impulse to point out that he has something to say alright.
Teal'c, who's been watching the exchange impassively, speaks up: "The planet looked to be uninhabited," he points out, "but its conditions were temperate and very suitable to life. I would like to suggest that it be considered for addition to the list of relocation planets for populations in need of a new home."
"We'd need to do an in-depth survey, sir," Sam adds, "but I agree with Teal'c. From what we saw it's temperate, full of arable land, and we found evidence of a four-season cycle. It's a perfect candidate."
Daniel hears Vala mutter something about what it's a perfect candidate for, but he's apparently the only one. Not surprising; she's moved back, leaning against the ramp next to Daniel.
Huh. Actually, it's more like she's clinging to the ramp, he suddenly notices. She's gripping it so hard her knuckles have whitened. Daniel frowns.
"Excellent," Landry says, and claps his hands. "Alright. Debrief in fifteen minutes."
"Oh, no thank you," Vala says politely, and just like that, she's standing straight, not even leaning back. Daniel resists the urge to shake his head. Had he imagined it?
There's a pause. Sam's biting her lip in that way she does when she's trying not to laugh. Landry is staring blankly at Vala.
"Debrief in fifteen minutes," he says again eventually, and walks off.
"Yes sir," Mitchell says with a nod, and goes down the ramp, walking past Vala with a shake of the head that looks half irritated and half fond. He points at Daniel as he passes. "Jackson; don't be late."
"I'm never late," Daniel says, which earns him a snort from Mitchell as he walks through the doors of the gate room, another badly suppressed smile from Sam as she follows him, and a raised eyebrow from Teal'c.
Alright, so maybe he's late sometimes. Maybe.
He suddenly realizes Vala's not commented on his tardiness or lack thereof. That's… odd. She usually wouldn't miss an opportunity like that.
She's also… kind of pale? The neons of the gate room aren't flattering on anyone, but there's a pallor to her that makes Daniel feel a little uneasy. She's gone back to clutching the railing with her one hand, her gaze a little unfocused as she stares at the palm of her other hand.
"Vala?" he asks slowly, not wanting to startle her.
Teal'c slows, then stops, meeting Daniel's gaze with a concerned look when Vala doesn't respond.
As slowly and gently as he can, Daniel reaches out and touches Vala's shoulder. "Vala?"
She jumps about a mile high, spinning to face him, eyes wide. Her pupils are blown, he notices. "Daniel," she breathes, closing her hand into a fist, and yeah — something is definitely up with her. "I didn't… hear you there."
"Are you alright?"
She tilts her chin up, in an almost perfect imitation of her usual lightheartedness. "Why wouldn't I be? I was just thinking—" She trails off, and seems to be forcing a few breaths before continuing, "I was just thinking about how I'll be skipping the debrief. Seeing as there was nothing of any interest on that planet."
There's sweat beading at her temples; a few stray hairs are sticking to her forehead. Daniel frowns. "I think—"
"Oh, of course," she cuts him off doggedly, bringing her right hand off the railing to wave it dismissively in the air, "I'm sure old carvings are fascinating for you and General Landry, but as it happens, I've seen rather enough of them in my life. And so, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll be skipping. Do give my best to Mitchell, though."
She goes to take a step forward, presumably to stalk off, but she wobbles, tilts, and catches herself on the railing just in time.
"Whoa," Daniel says, stepping forward to stabilize her — but she elegantly spins out of his reach, both hands clutching the railing behind her.
"I'm fine," she says lightly, and smiles, brittles and fake. "Slipped. This ramp is tragically unsafe." She tips her chin in the direction of the doors. "You should really get going, Daniel. You don't want to be late again, do you?" She turns to Teal'c, who's been quietly watching the exchange from a few feet away. "You, too, Muscles. I'm sure you'll have plenty to say on the livability of the most boring planet in the galaxy."
But Teal'c doesn't go. Instead, he steps closer, and says, in a low, quiet voice, "Vala Mal Doran, you do not look well."
She makes a face. "Well, that's no way to talk to a lady. Thanks ever so much, Muscles."
"No, Teal'c is right," Daniel agrees, trying to keep his tone casual as he studies her. Her hands are shaking on the railing, her breathing is fast and ragged, and her eyes are too bright. "You don't look right, Vala."
She rolls her eyes and, with what looks like a heroic effort, straightens up and lets go of the support of the rail. "Don't you two just make a pair," she comments, and she almost comes close to her usual sardonic tone. She walks past the both of them, not quite steady on her feet, and waves a hand over her shoulder. "On that note, I think that's enough compliments for today. Please don't bother me while I rest from the intense dullness of this mission."
"What's on your hand?" Daniel asks, catching a glimpse of something red and irritated on her palm — a cut, maybe?
She turns to him, clutching her hand to her chest. "Nothing." She takes a step back towards the doors, then another. "You worry too much, Daniel, darling."
"Daniel Jackson is correct," Teal'c backs him, stepping forward with a frown. "There is something on your hand."
She clutches her hand a little harder — her smile gets a little tighter. "There's nothing on my hand," she says, aiming for airy, landing two miles off. "What has gotten into you boys today?"
"Vala, please—" Daniel tries, but she shakes her head, matches his step forward with a step back.
"It's nothing," she says again, her voice tighter, more serious. "Just— leave it, Daniel."
She means it — but she's also clearly not well. "Can't do that," he says with a small, apologetic smile. "Just—"
"No," she snaps, and this time there's no mask, just pain and defensiveness and sharpness. "No, I won't just do whatever you want me to do. You just—" She cuts off, blinking rapidly, swaying slightly in place.
Uh oh. He steps closer. "Vala?"
"You just—" she tries again, her voice faint, her breath catching in her chest.
Daniel never gets to find out what he's supposed to just do: she loses her grip on consciousness and collapses. He catches her just before she can hit the ground.
*
"We call it ia in'trom roshna," Teal'c says, studying the mark on Vala's palm carefully.
Daniel, who's leaning against the wall of the infirmary next to Vala's bed, frowns. "The… drug that brings you to the before?" he hazards a translation.
Teal'c inclines his head and straightens, turning to address Lam, who's holding Vala's chart. "It is a plant, found on many planets in this galaxy. It looks unremarkable, but its sting causes a strong fever for a few hours, as well as powerful hallucinations." He glances at Vala, still unconscious on the gurney, her forehead lined with sweat, and then up at Daniel. "It is not lethal, nor does it leave any lasting effects if the person is cared for properly."
"That's what I'm here for," Lam says, a little rueful as she finishes noting something on the chart. She turns her focus on Teal'c. "Her fever's already at 103. I've got her on every antipyretic I can, but nothing's made a dent in it. Do you know why that is?"
"Its fever is known to resist all usual remedies," Teal'c confirms, studying Vala with a thoughtful look. "Unfortunately, the only known cure is to experience the effects in their entirety." He turns his focus to Lam, inclining his head slightly. "As I mentioned, the sick almost always make a complete recovery."
"Almost?" Daniel asks, one eyebrow coming up.
"There are exceptions," Teal'c concedes, but he doesn't look too worried — it's all in the frown. "So long as they are provided with water and are kept contained, they are—"
"Contained?" Lam interrupts, sounding alarmed. Daniel doesn't like the sound of that too much either.
"The hallucinations provoked by the roshna are extremely vivid," Teal'c explains. "They are also very distressing, and draw from the afflicted's worst memories. Hence, the sick are traditionally kept restrained during the worst of the fever, so as not to injure themselves or others."
"Jesus," Daniel whispers under his breath, trying not to notice the frown already creasing Vala's brow, and the way her hands are clenched in the sheets. "It's that bad, huh?"
"Indeed, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c gives him a serious look. "I was once touched by the roshna as a boy. The visions I received kept me awake long after my fever had broken." His gaze slides to Vala, his expression carefully neutral. "I imagine Vala Mal Doran has lived a complex life. I therefore suspect whatever hallucinations she might fall prey to will be accordingly… difficult." Teal's face twitches almost imperceptibly with the word.
Yeah — that seems likely enough.
Daniel swallows hard. "She knew what it was, didn't she?"
Teal'c nods. "The roshna's mark is very distinctive. I think it unlikely she would not have recognized it."
"But she wasn't going to say anything," Daniel says, almost inaudibly. "She was going to, what? Lock herself in her quarters and wait it out without telling anyone?"
Lam looks stricken, but Teal'c only nods. "I believe so," he confirms. "Due to its short duration, the ia roshna can be weathered alone, if one knows what to expect and is prepared accordingly. Water, kept nearby, is essential. Ties with knots complex enough they cannot be undone by one in the throes of fever." Teal'c pauses, like he's hesitating, and then continues. "I believe it to be likely that Vala Mal Doran has already had to weather those effects alone in the past."
Daniel does his best not to think of Vala, alone, in pain and incoherent, forced to tie herself and wait out a fever so bad it made a Jaffa wince.
"Yeah," he says in a breath. "I believe it too."
"Yeah, well, not this time," Lam says sharply. She puts Vala's chart down. "We'll keep her under observation, and make her as comfortable as possible. I've also got a few ideas to break the fever — no offense meant, Teal'c, but I think we might have a few medicines at our disposal that your people didn't."
Teal'c inclines his head. "No offense taken, Dr Lam." He gives her a thoughtful look. "If you plan on keeping Vala Mal Doran under your surveillance," he says slowly," I would like to suggest she be moved to a private room."
Lam tenses. "Contagion?"
He shakes his head. "No. But the hallucinations are, as I explained, very vivid. It is unlikely Vala Mal Doran will be able to keep her composure when the fever reaches its apex." Teal'c turns to Daniel, giving him a look full of meaning. "I do not believe she would wish to be heard or seen by others in such a state."
Daniel closes his eyes. That's true — after all, she'd been trying to hide this from them entirely, presumably so no one would see her in that state.
Dr Lam doesn't look convinced, but Daniel nods. "Teal'c is right," he says quietly, looking Lam in the eye. "Being surrounded with people she doesn't recognize is only going to make things worse for her."
Lam looks torn, and Daniel pushes away from the wall to stand at Vala's gurney.
"We'll keep watch," he continues, and looks to Teal'c for back up — he nods. "We'll take turns, and we'll radio at the first sign of trouble. Teal'c knows this thing — he'll tell us what to watch out for. You can send someone to do check ins regularly."
"Alright," Lam agrees eventually. She doesn't seem happy about it, but she doesn't put her foot down. "I'll try a couple more things to see if it knocks the fever out, but if it doesn't, we'll move her to weather it out somewhere private."
"Thank you, Dr Lam," Teal'c says, before Daniel can.
Daniel watches Vala's breathing, fast and stuttering even in sleep, and tries not to imagine what she might see.
*
Daniel walks into the room Dr Lam has allocated to Vala, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible. It quickly becomes evident that he needn't have bothered: Vala is out cold, eyes shut tight, wrists and ankles in dark restraints attached to the bed. As for Teal'c, vigilant as ever, he turns immediately in his chair.
Teal'c, who's wearing… "Chilly?" Daniel asks lightly, nodding towards the dark beanie Teal'c is sporting, pulled down over his forehead.
Teal'c gives him a fractional tilt of the head and speaks in a low voice, "I believe the mark of Apophis was a confusing sight."
"She's been awake?" Daniel's tone sharpens immediately, and he walks up to Teal'c, studying Vala more carefully. She's still pale, strands of hair sticking to her temples, but she seems pretty solidly out.
"Marginally," Teal'c amends. "Only for a few minutes at a time. She did not seem to be aware of where she was, but she confused me for a First Prime."
"Hence the hat," Daniel completes with a wince. He can't imagine that interaction had gone well.
"Indeed."
"Sam said she'd been conscious for a bit," Daniel continues, clutching the book he brought with him to his chest, "but that whatever she'd said, it hadn't been in English."
"There has been a mix of languages," Teal'c says, and stands. "Some of which I did not recognize." He pauses, giving Vala a thoughtful look. "I find it unsurprising, however, that Vala Mal Doran would speak many languages."
"Yeah, me too," Daniel says, and takes the chair Teal'c has vacated. "Seems like the kind of thing that would be useful. Just… odd that we never knew."
"I believe she would say that we did not ask."
Daniel lets out a short breath of laughter at that and tries to find a comfortable position in the chair — he quickly realizes it's not going to happen. "She probably would." He tips his chin at the disconnected monitors and IV line. "Dr Lam cleared her?"
"Yes. The worst of the fever has broken, following the natural course of the roshna." If it had been anyone else, Daniel would have called Teal'c tone an I told you so kind of voice. "She will still be experiencing hallucinations for a few hours, but she is out of danger." Teal'c points at a radio left on the bedside table. "Dr Lam has instructed that any change be reported over the priority medical channel. She will also be here to supervise the waking of Vala Mal Doran once the illness has subsided completely."
"Someone's going to get an earful about trying to hide medical emergencies," Daniel mutters under his breath, and Teal'c tilts his head in agreement.
With a few more words of parting, Teal'c leaves the room, leaving Daniel and Vala alone.
Daniel leans back in his chair, his book untouched in his lap, and sighs. Despite the fact that it's been a few hours, he just can't wrap his head around it. Why wouldn't she say anything? He knows she's not big on vulnerability, but he likes to think she trusts, if not the SGC, then SG-1 at the very least. So why would she risk facing something like this alone when —
His train of thought is interrupted when Vala shifts fractionally on the bed, forehead creasing into a pained frown.
He sits up, leaning forward. "Vala?"
She mutters something he doesn't catch. He expects her to fall back under — he trusts Teal'c's assessment of the illness's course — but to his surprise, she turns her head towards him and blinks her eyes open. They're glassy — fever-bright and unfocused as they roam over his face with no recognition.
"Hello, handsome," she says, in a dry, cracked whisper.
"Vala?" He reaches forward, wrapping his hand around her forearm. "Are you feeling alright?"
She hums, long and light and hazy. Each blink is slow and heavy, and her eyes keep sliding off him only to return, like she's having trouble keeping her focus on him. "Of course," she says, and her voice is a little off — it takes him a moment to realize it's her accent, which has shifted to something surprisingly American. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"
She's mirroring him, he realizes. She presumably has no idea where she is or who he is, and, in the confusion, even with a fever, she's gone for a chameleon act. It's as impressive as it is disturbing.
"It's me, Daniel," he says slowly, trying to gauge how out of it she might be and failing completely. Aside from her gaze, her expression is perfectly casual.
"Of course," she says, still sounding off. "Of course it's you. I know it's you, you don't have to say it."
He raises a skeptical eyebrow, but before he can figure out what to say to that, Vala tries to sit, only to find herself stopped by the restraints.
She freezes in place, her gaze falling to the velcro bands around her wrists. With a frown, she pulls on her arms, then on her legs, finding the movement halted each time. There's a second of stillness and then—
Her breath hitches, and with a suddenness that catches him off-guard, she pulls on all four restraints with enough force to shake the gurney beneath her.
"Whoa!" He squeezes the arm he's still holding, trying to get her to calm down — he feels only tense muscle under his fingers. "Take it easy."
"I'm tied down," she says, voice flat, with a breathiness that closes his throat a little bit. "Handsome, I'm tied down. Why am I tied down?" Her words come fast and shaky, more so with every breath.
She pulls on the restraints again, hard enough that it has to hurt, and he reflexively pushes back against the motion. "Easy," he says again, trying for calm, trying for grounding in the face of her obvious panic. "It's to keep you safe."
She doesn't seem to hear him. Her breathing is edging on ragged now, loud and stuttering; her hands are clenched into fists, and she's bringing her head and shoulders up and off the bed, wide, glazed eyes roaming around the room with no recognition. The sight pulls at Daniel's heart — she doesn't know where she is, who he is, and now she's tied down. He's pretty sure he'd panic too if he were in her place.
Unfortunately, the very fact that she doesn't know where she is means he can't let her go. "Vala," he tries again, "you're alright. This is just temporary. You got stung by something, and it's made you sick. We're just waiting for you to get better."
With what looks like more self-control than she should possess, Vala reins in her panic, shooting him a bright, fake smile. "Oh, but I'm much better already, dear—" she trails off.
"Daniel," he supplies after a second and she closes her eyes briefly.
"Of course. Daniel. I'm much better. These restraints are unnecessary." Her voice shakes.
"Listen," he says, and catches her gaze. "I know you're scared, but you're okay. You're safe. We're not going to hurt you."
A flash of something that says nothing more than that's what they all say flits over her face before she smooths it out and away. "Of course," she says, and she almost sounds normal, if not for the accent. "Of course not."
He gestures vaguely. "You don't have to do that, by the way," he says, trying to help her relax. "The voice, I mean. I know what you sound like."
She tenses — shit. Of course calling her bluff wouldn't help. "What I mean," he amends quickly, "is that we're friends. You don't need to—"
She laughs, sharp and hard and short, cutting him off. "Friends," she says dryly, in her normal accent, and pulls on her restraints again. "I see."
He's not doing himself any favors, that much is clear. He'd probably be better off shutting up — as always — but he keeps trying — as always. "It's just a precaution so you don't hurt yourself. They're coming off as soon as you're better, I promise."
She watches him, clearly trying to assess how much his word might be worth. "I am better," she says again, and there's a tinge of desperation to the words. Her arm tenses under his hand, but she doesn't pull on the restraints again. "Daniel, please. I really—" and she cuts off, swallows hard, forces a deep breath "— really don't think these are necessary." Her gaze pins him in place, suspicion and panic mingling together in a way that closes Daniel's throat. "If we really are friends," and she puts a pointed emphasis on the word, "then you'll trust me. Right?"
"Well—" he starts, but trails off when her eyes narrow a little more. Her breathing is speeding up, her fists are clenched and yeah, yeah he'd definitely have been better off shutting up. Now she's working herself up, and it's only getting worse. He needs to buy some good will back before this escalates.
His gaze lingers on the restraints, and then on the disconnected monitors. Dr Lam had cleared her. Teal'c had said the worst of the roshna was behind her. And letting her go would help her calm down, he's sure of it.
"Daniel," she says, and she sounds like Vala, except she also sounds scared, and just like that, his decision is made.
"Alright," he says, and stands, out of his seat, shifting to remove her ankle restraints in two sharp pulls. She flicks her feet but doesn't move, and he feels a little better about the whole thing as he removes the wrist restraints with two simultaneous scratches of velcro.
The microsecond they're off, she grabs him, unbalances him, and flips them over. A blink later, Daniel's on his back on the gurney, Vala's knees bracketing his ribcage and—
Yeah. Yeah, she's holding a knife to his throat.
Where did she even get a knife?
His first instinct is to push back, but he suppresses it, instead going as limp as possible as Vala leans forward. The blade is digging into the skin of his neck, on the edge of turning into a cut, and she's almost snarling, a flash of teeth echoing the blazing look in her eyes.
"Okay," he says eventually, very, very slowly. He swallows, and feels the pressure of the knife against his throat. "For the record, this is precisely why you were tied up in the first place."
She doesn't seem to hear him. Her eyes are wide and unblinking, gleaming too brightly as she stares him down. "Did Netan send you?" she asks, low and dangerously flat. There's no trace of affect or artificiality — her voice is as steely as the knife she's pressing into his carotid artery.
The name takes a moment to ring the corresponding bell in Daniel's head — in his defense, well: knife to his throat. "Netan?" he repeats, trying to catch up. "From the Lucian Alliance?"
It's the wrong thing to say: Vala tenses. "I thought I'd made myself clear," she says, and it's almost a whisper, almost seductive, except for the way it's coated in so much danger it freezes Daniel in place. "I—" and she slowly, leisurely, drags the knife up and down Daniel's throat in a searing point "— am not —" she presses it into the hollow of his collarbone "— interested —" and back up to his carotid, underneath the jaw " — in his offer."
"Vala," he tries, staying as still as he can, not looking away, not even blinking, trying to telegraph a complete lack of resistance, "I'm not from the Alliance."
She smiles, a lopsided, utterly humorless thing that's as sharp as her weapon. "Oh, handsome, no one is, especially with a knife to their throat." She tilts her head. "You're lucky I won't be coming back with you to tell Netan about your lack of loyalty. He'd not take kindly to it." She brushes a soft, gentle finger down his cheek. "Would be a shame, with a pretty face like yours."
She straightens up and releases the pressure on the knife a fraction. Daniel takes his chance. "Vala, please, listen to me—"
But she presses the blade of the knife against his lips to shut him up. "No, handsome, I think you'll be listening. You'll not be bringing me to Netan, but you'll be bringing him a message from me all the same." She gives him a spine-chillingly brilliant smile. "Listen carefully, handsome. I'm not planning on repeating myself twice." She clears her throat. "Tell Netan that his offer is denied. Tell him to stop offering it. Tell him that I will never, ever serve as his source in any capacity."
His source? She can't mean—
"Tell him," she continues, unflinching, "that his offer of amnesty means nothing. That I will not turn my back on this team, this organization, or even this planet; and that if I did, I most certainly wouldn't do it for him."
Oh God. Netan is dead, has been for years now, but this means he must have, at some point, offered Vala amnesty for her crimes against the Alliance in exchange for information about the SGC. She'd never told anyone. And to the offer, an offer that could have meant her freedom, she'd said—
"Tell him," Vala says, and presses the knife a little harder, until Daniel can taste metal, "that if he keeps sending people to ask, then I will simply have to start killing them."
Her tone leaves precisely no room for doubt — she means it.
She smiles faintly, removing the knife from his lips to trace the edge of his jaw with the tip of the blade. "Not you, handsome, don't worry," and she taps the soft skin underneath his ear with the metal, sending a shudder through him. "You know, you remind me of someone." Her gaze grows a little hazy. "Can't quite pinpoint it, however."
"Vala," he says, trying for calm, falling desperately short. "You don't have to—"
"Unfortunately, handsome, I very much do. And I will. Do tell him that." She studies him briefly. "You don't believe me. Didn't he tell you who I am?"
"I'm not—"
She leans forward again, closer; her hair falls around them like a curtain, blocking out the world, until there's nothing but her eyes and her smile, sharper than any knife.
"I was a god once, handsome," she whispers, and Daniel's blood ices over. Her smile gains an edge, something hard and bitter and dangerous. "Yes, that's right. Of course he wouldn't tell you that, typical of him. But I was."
Her free hand comes up, delicately tracing the line of his jaw. The knife rests, point first, against his heart.
"The things I did, handsome," she whispers, intimately lethal, "the wonders I saw. The people I killed, the places I burned." She closes her eyes. "You can't imagine it. Don't bother trying."
He's never, ever heard Vala talk about her time as a host.
"She's gone now," she says, and opens her eyes to fix him with a blaze of a look, "but I'm still here." The knife digs a little harder, until he feels its sting through the material of his shirt. "All those things are still here, in my head, in my dreams. And the hands that made those things real are still here, too. And they are as skilled as they've ever been."
With an abruptness that's jarring, she straightens up, pulling back — but not removing the knife. "You tell him that," she says, ice cold, "and you tell him that if he pulls a move like this again, he'll find out for himself."
For once in his life, Daniel finds himself at a complete loss for words. He'd known, theoretically, that Vala remembered; knew that hosts saw what the Goa'uld possessing them did, if at a degree of remove.
But this doesn't sound like remove. This sounds as immediate as it gets, and he feels sick, sick with the idea that underneath her masks and grins and jokes, she's carrying years' worth of massacres and death alone. Worse — that she identifies with them. That she believes she holds even a fraction of the blame. It's wrong, in every possible way.
Vala's expression softens. Her fingers ghost across his cheek, light as a feather. "You really do remind me of someone," she says again, and tilts her head, studying him intently. "Some sentimental idiot I met once."
Daniel's heart aches in his chest. "Oh yeah?"
"Mhhhm." She sighs. "I stole his ship. Wasn't even hard."
"Didn't he steal it back?" Daniel can't help but ask.
She raises an eyebrow. "Only because I let him," she says, and for the first time since she woke up, she sounds like herself, prim and offended and light.
"That's… not how I remember it, but okay," he says and slowly, infinitely slowly, shifts under her weight, trying to move so the knife is no longer digging into his chest.
"He was nice," Vala says, sounding wistful, sounding lost. "Kind. Annoying about it." A sigh. "I wish I could remember his name."
Her fingers trail away from his face, catching on his collar, ghosting across the hollow of his throat, and he suppresses a shiver. "Daniel," he breathes.
Vala hums, noncommittal. "Could have been," she says, dream-like and unsteady. Her features scrunch up in pain, and she brings her free hand to her temple in a fist.
"Head hurting?" he asks.
"Terribly," she breathes, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opens them, there's a flicker of clarity in them that catches at his heart. "I don't— Handsome, I'm not sure what's—" She cuts off with a pained sound, hand pressing into the side of her head.
As slowly as he can, he shifts, then reaches his hand forward. He brushes it against her wrist and, when she doesn't immediately stab him, reaches along her hand to slip the knife from her grip.
She lets it go without resistance, and he puts it off to the side, on the floor next to the gurney.
"Okay," he whispers, breathing a little better without sharp objects in the mix, "how about you let me up, now?"
"Let you up?" she glances down, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh. Right." With unsteady, uncoordinated movements, she gets off him, falling back down onto her gurney with so little control he has to catch her before she topples to the ground. A few rearranged limbs later and she's lying back down properly, Daniel sitting on the side of the gurney next to her.
"Daniel?" she asks, and the relief he feels is enough to have him be grateful he's sitting down.
"Yeah, it's me." He gives her a small smile. "Hi."
"Hi," she says, but there's a dubitative frown pulling at her expression. "What are you— why are you—"
"Long story."
She sighs. "They're all long when you're the one telling them."
He snorts. "Fair enough." With a slow, delicate hand, he brushes away a few stray hairs that have come down to tangle over her forehead. "How are you feeling?"
Her head tilts — like she's angling into his touch, and his chest aches. "Hot," she says. "Cold. Not right." She closes her eyes. "What's going on? Why is everything so…"
"Fever," he says, because it's easier than trying to explain everything. "But you're going to be okay."
Her eyes flutter open, and the look in them is utterly unguarded — hesitating and scared and hopeful in a way he's never seen her. "Yeah?" she asks, like she'll take him at his word.
He nods. "I promise."