Author's Notes: Sequel to "Legacy of Trust" and part 4/8 of a Daniel/Janet friendship series, tracing their relationship through the first few seasons. The order of the stories is as follows: "A Singular Friendship," "The Price of Compassion," "Legacy of Trust," "Crossing the Line," "Gaining in Inches," "Smaller Victories," "Not Too Late," and "After All." The angst kicks up a gear (or two) in this one. I have also raised the rating due to the following warning: there is some mild sexual violence in this story. It certainly isn't rape, and it isn't graphic or anything, but I know it's a sensitive issue, so I'm giving fair warning.

Dedication: To the fantastic folks on the danandjan list, whose feedback and encouragement keeps me writing!

Janet had been almost glad to arrive home that evening and find that Cassie had procrastinated on a major school project and was in full panic mode. After the heaviness of Daniel's grief and the austerity and strangeness of Sha're's Abydonian funeral that afternoon, she welcomed the opportunity to do something as brainless as painting the foam pieces of the DNA double-helix that Cassie was building.

The clock on the mantle struck 1:00 am as Cassie finally glued the last pieces together and collapsed in bed. Janet had changed into her pajamas and was turning out the lights when a car slowed in front of her house and stopped. She frowned and went to the window to watch a figure climb out of the back seat of the cab and stumble toward her door. Oh, God, she thought with concern. Daniel.

She opened the front door before he could ring the bell and wake Cassie. "Daniel!" she whispered, ushering him inside, "what are you doing here at this hour?" He looked at her uncomprehendingly and blinked.

He looked terrible. Fortunately someone had encouraged him to change out of his Abydonian clothes, but he was wearing ratty jeans and an old University of Chicago t-shirt instead. His hair was mussed and his glasses askew; his eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and he positively reeked of whisky. Janet immediately went into doctor mode.

"Daniel, how much have you had to drink? Come sit down, okay. I'll get you some water; we need to try to re-hydrate you." She settled him on the couch and disappeared to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. "Here, drink some of this," she said soothingly, handing him the glass.

He obeyed, sipping the water slowly. Then he turned to look at her, recognition fighting through the haze. "Jan?" he slurred. "I don't know what to do, Janet. I don't know what to do. I just want...I don't know. I want it to go away." The desperate words came pouring out as his body shook with emotion. Janet gently took the glass out of his hands and held one of them, wrapping her other arm part-way around his shoulders.

"I know, I know," she whispered, not trusting herself to say anything more. She cared deeply about Daniel...doubtless more than she should...and her heart was truly breaking for him. She knew she would do anything for him, and she was glad he trusted her enough to come to her in his grief. At the same time, however, high emotions and exhaustion left them both vulnerable, and Janet couldn't help wondering if the situation might be somehow safer if Daniel had shown up on Jack's doorstep at 2:00 in the morning instead of on hers.

Daniel continued to babble, and he was gripping her hand tightly with both of his. "I want it all to go away," he repeated. "I had these dreams or something, I don't know, and she would be alive and on Abydos, or once in the infirmary with you, but then she was gone, and I woke up to the pain again. Every time it was like she died again, and there is nothing but pain. I need to feel something besides pain."

He finished speaking abruptly and turned to look Janet in the eye. She was startled and almost frightened by the wild intensity that the grief gave to his features. Suddenly, he lunged at her, locking her in a vice-grip and capturing her lips in a harsh, bruising kiss. Janet was completely stunned but quickly recovered enough to try to push him away.

"Dan-mmff, what...what are you doing?" she cried.

"I need...I need to feel...something besides the pain," he rasped in her ear before attacking her mouth again. The strong taste of whisky on his lips and tongue sickened her. She fought against him, trying to wriggle out of his grip; she was for the first time aware of how much bigger and stronger he was as he pushed her back into the couch cushions.

"No, Daniel, please don't do this," she gasped as he left her mouth to begin peppering kisses down her neck. She managed to free her hands and grabbed his head, lifting it away from her body and forcing him to look her in the face. "Please don't do this, Daniel. You don't want to do this," she pleaded, her voice little more than a whisper. She didn't remember beginning to cry, but she could feel tears coursing down her cheeks. "It isn't fair to you or me, and it sure as hell isn't fair to Sha're. Please, Daniel."

Daniel's eyes were glazed for a moment as he looked at her; suddenly, they filled with horror and realization. "Oh God. I...I...oh God!" A heart-wrenching choked cry escaped his throat, and he collapsed in sobs, effectively, but this time inadvertently, pinning Janet beneath him.

She managed to pull herself partly out from under him so that only his head rested in her lap as he cried. "Shh, shh, it's okay to cry, Daniel. Let it out. It's okay," she murmured, her own tears unchecked and her voice shaking. After a long while, Daniel's sobs stopped, and his breathing became even. When she thought he was probably sleeping heavily enough, she lifted his head out of her lap and slid off the couch, replacing a throw pillow beneath his head. "Sha're," he moaned, not waking up.

Janet walked across the room before turning to look at the man asleep on her couch. She was shaking all over and hugging herself, and her mind was reeling. Had Daniel really just attacked her? Was Daniel even capable of such a thing? Despite his obvious grief, he had seemed so collected since Sha're's death: he forgave Teal'c, he spoke with feeling at Sha're's funeral, he resolved to find her child. Janet shivered involuntarily, realizing that she could not think rationally right now, especially with Daniel in her living room. Part of her still wanted to hold him and make his pain go away if she could; another part of her, however, was beginning to associate a new emotion...fear...with the man who, up to an hour ago, she was pretty sure she could love if she allowed herself.

Without fully considering what she was doing, she crossed into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"O'Neill," answered a sleepy voice after the fourth ring.

"Colonel, it's Janet Fraiser," she said, trying unsuccessfully to force her voice not to shake. "I'm sorry to call so late, or early, as the case may be."

"No problem, Doc. What's wrong?" O'Neill sounded suddenly alert.

"Um, Daniel came over here not long ago. He was drunk and upset. He's asleep on my couch at the moment, but I don't really want Cassie, in the morning..."

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Doc."

The Colonel was better than his word, arriving in eight minutes. He took one look at Janet, shaking in her dressing gown, eyes red and hair disheveled, and raised his eyebrows with concern. "You okay, Janet?" he asked softly. She nodded, thinking vaguely that she must look pretty bad to induce Jack's rare use of her first name. He followed her into the house and saw Daniel sprawled on the couch, the cushions rather in disarray. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," whispered Janet. "I'm fine." O'Neill looked like he didn't quite believe her, but he didn't press the issue.

"Okay, Danny, let's get you out of here and into a proper bed," Jack said as he pulled one of Daniel's arms around his own shoulder and hoisted his friend to a sitting and then a standing position.

"Huh? What?" groaned Daniel as he woke up. "Jack, what? Where's Janet? Janet? Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," Janet replied, coming around where Daniel could see her.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Oh, Janet, I'm sorry!" he repeated as Jack tried to lead him out the door. Daniel groped for Janet's hand, but she stepped back quickly out of his reach. Jack raised another concerned eyebrow at Janet, but she shook her head in warning.

In the front yard, Daniel doubled over and proceeded to throw up in the bushes beside Janet's porch. It took both Jack and Janet to get him into the passenger seat of the truck. As Janet turned to leave him, Daniel took her hand with surprising gentleness and entreated her to look at him. Beneath the veneer of pain, alcohol, and now guilt, she was relieved to recognize her friend. "I'm so sorry, Janet," he begged.

Janet felt the emotion catch in the back of her throat, and she could do no more than give him a faint nod before pulling her hand out of his and backing away from the truck.

Jack placed an awkward hand on her shoulder. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Thank you."

O'Neill did not look exactly satisfied with her response, but he climbed into the truck anyway and started the engine. Janet stood shivering in the crisp night air as she watched them drive away.