How the Mighty
by Carrie

“You’re kidding, right? Two days? We just saved the universe from Apophis again and we only get two days off?” Jack groaned in disgust.

“That’s right, Colonel. I don’t think I need to remind you that your recent actions were against my direct orders, do I?” Hammond questioned, clearly not seeking a response.

Jack folded over and pressed his head down on the conference table. He felt terrible. His muscles quivered nonstop, head throbbed mercilessly and he was dog-tired. Those damn armbands had been more trouble than they were worth. Drug and alcohol detoxification had nothing on his current misery, he was positive. Oh, yeah, he knew all about detox.

“Doctor Fraiser and Anise both agree these symptoms should disappear within forty-eight hours. I expect you all back here on Monday morning. You’re dismissed,” Hammond said rather abruptly and started leaving the room.

Jack twisted his head and peered out from the cradle of his arms, watching the general make his exit. They’d really crossed the line this time, and Hammond was seriously displeased. Everything from tone of voice to body language spoke of displeasure. Sure, his commanding officer had said he understood the adverse effects the Atenik armbands had on him, Carter and Daniel, but he was still disappointed in them. Hell, Jack was disappointed in himself.

He buried his face in the dark again, wretched in both body and spirit. Wishing the events of the past few days could be erased from existence, stricken from any official or non-official record, Jack moaned softly. He could feel three pair of eyes boring holes into the top of his head and he knew he had to face up to his team. Hell, two of them should share in his shame. He couldn’t be the only one feeling remorse for his actions. Even if he was, technically speaking, the big macho leader of the pack. He slowly raised his head and straightened in his chair. Daniel sat across from him looking morose, while Carter drooped next to him. Ramrod stiff, Teal’c eyed all of them with his usual raised eyebrow.

“Two days?” he whispered again. He couldn’t get over that. He so needed a vacation and two days just wasn’t going to cut it. Judging from how his body felt, the weekend was going to be spent in bed. What a waste.

“Yes, Colonel. Two days,” Fraiser confirmed his rhetorical question as she breezed into the briefing room. “I just spoke with General Hammond and he’s arranging rides for you all. I don’t want you driving anywhere. Actually, I don’t even want you to leave the base, but the general insisted.”

Hammond probably couldn’t stand the sight of them right now.

“No driving? Hope he knows I’m going to be putting any cab fares I rack up on my next expense report,” Jack joked.

Jack took a quick look at his teammates, trying to further assess their conditions. God, if he looked even half as bad as they looked…Carter’s skin was waxy and sallow, enhanced by huge dark circles shadowing her eyes. Her normally healthy glow was absent and she appeared frail and shaky. Daniel looked as though he was suffering from the worst hangover in the world, squinting as if to block out some of the offensive fluorescent lighting. He noted the younger man’s hand shaking minutely when he reached for his glass of water.

He sighed in resignation, stood and headed for the door. Jack knew he should be grateful for even being allowed off base. If the doc said two days was all they got, then two days would have to do. The doc and that damn Tok’ra supermodel scientist wannabe had to be right about the effects of the armbands.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn’t let go of the feeling that they weren’t.

Sam stood in her bathroom, gazing at the reflection looking back at her. Nothing or no one had prepared her for the self-loathing she was feeling regarding her actions while under the influence of the Atenik devices. She cringed as she remembered how powerful and invincible she had felt, a feeling she hadn’t wanted to give up. Sam craved it even now and that was the true cause for her disgust. She was a member of the Air Force and should never have allowed herself to become dependent on any foreign substances. Just the disillusioned look in General Hammond’s eyes had been enough to put red in her cheeks.

And yet, it was there—the desire for power and for the abilities the armbands had accentuated. It was all so far from her reach now. The mirrored image mocked her in complete contrast to the thrill and strength she’d had twenty-four hours earlier. To think just a few short years ago she’d been righteous enough to berate Daniel for becoming addicted to the effects of the sarcophagus. Funny how none of them thought about how similar their behavior was to when Daniel was acting all high and mighty.

She looked horrible no matter how many ways she moved her head around for ‘better lighting’. Sam was starting to have doubts about Janet’s all-clear in regards to SG-1′s health. If anything, she felt worse now than she had yesterday when she first left the base, and she had felt pretty lousy then. Worse than she would have admitted at the time, so happy was she to escape the let down stares from not only the general, but Janet and Teal’c as well. She sighed as she realized her own expression now resembled what she had seen in her friends’ eyes yesterday. Only hers was additionally flavored with illness.

She had a sudden impulse to get ahold of the colonel and Daniel, to see how they might be doing. Maybe she was just a wimp and they were fine. Forging a slow and unsteady path back into her bedroom, Sam made for the phone on her nightstand. By the time she reached her bed, she was out of breath and gasping for air. She closed her eyes and tilted herself sideways to lean her cheek on the headboard. God, it felt like she was suffering from some super strain of the flu. Her muscles were weak and uncooperative. She was convinced something was so not right. There was no way she was that big of a pansy.

She fumbled for the phone, thankful to snatch it up on the first attempt. She hit the speed dial set for the colonel and listened while the phone rang again and again and again. It became rather mesmerizing, lulling her into a semi-trance. She was startled out of it when his weak voice finally answered.

“H-hello?”

“Sir?” Sam said. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“No, not sleeping. Did you want something, Carter?” the colonel asked.

“I just wanted to see how you were feeling.”

“You want the truth? I feel awful. Haven’t been able to get out of bed all day, in fact.”

Sam was relieved to hear his answer. At least she wasn’t alone in her wretchedness. Janet had warned them they may feel a bit strung out, but she had been concerned at just how bad she felt. To know that the colonel was also suffering was a strange blessing. Even as she was thinking these things, Sam couldn’t help but be worried at the colonel’s almost frail-sounding voice.

“Sir, are you really all right? I mean, you sound a little worse for wear.”

“I could say the same to you, Carter. Let’s just say I am remembering what an ass I made of myself and on top of the physical symptoms of coming down off of those armbands, that makes for a heavy burden,” he said.

Sam winced. The colonel never opened up to her this much under regular circumstances, but any comfort she might have taken from the sharing was negligible in light of the fact that he had to be feeling like he was on death’s door to admit half as much as he just had. As much as she would like him to open up more to her, it wasn’t his style.

She sighed unhappily, agreeing with him, “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Have you spoken with Daniel at all?”

“No. You’re lucky you got me to answer the phone. I haven’t picked it up to make any calls myself,” the colonel snapped, irritation sounding through along with the obvious exhaustion in his tone.

“Well, I’m going to call him. I might go over to his place, too. I don’t know. I just don’t feel like being alone right now.” She hoped the colonel would pick up on her hint. She thought they all could use each other’s company, to commiserate and all.

“Do that, Carter. If he’s up to it, give me a call back, will ya?” Relieved by his reluctant participation, Sam thought she heard concern creeping into his tone. Curiosity, certainly. “I wouldn’t mind some company myself.”

Oh, boy. That was as close to confession of worry and/or illness she was likely going to get. It was enough. She couldn’t help but smile as a less-than-gentle phone slamming down in her ear abruptly severed the connection. My, my the colonel was quite the charmer. She smiled grimly and disconnected her own line, immediately clicking it back on to dial Daniel. There was no doubt in her mind that the archaeologist would welcome the company. Her smile faded as the phone rang and rang. This time there was no voice answering on the other end and no voicemail picking up. No peace of mind for her.

Worry dogged at her that she tried ineffectively to calm. Daniel could just be sleeping really heavily, oblivious to the world around him. He was known to do that all the time. She disconnected and redialed him again. The ritual was repeated several times, constant ringing, no picking up. Damn, it usually only took her twice to break through his sleep barrier. Worry notched up a level and turned into fear. She rang the colonel again.

“Hello,” her CO’s voice grumbled, not quite as disoriented as before.

“Colonel, Daniel’s not answering his phone.” Sam was panicking and she knew it, but she couldn’t keep herself from being frantic on the inside. And the outside. “I think there’s something wrong. He usually picks up after a couple of tries and he didn’t this time.”

“Carter, calm down. I’ll call a cab and swing by your place. We’ll go check on him, even though I’m sure he’s fine.” The colonel sounded as though he was trying to assure himself as well as her. He was gruff and agitated.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting,” Sam whispered.

An intense cold weaved its way through her veins, shadows chasing away the light. Sweat erupted on her forehead and upper lip, coming from out of nowhere and she was distinctly nauseous. She recognized the signs. Now was not a good time to pass out. Not at all. Gray fuzz seemed to distort her vision. She couldn’t see the bed, though she knew it was only a few steps away. She lowered her hand, which was made heavier by the phone, and took a step. Her limbs shook like saplings in a tornado. The phone fell from her fingers. Sam heard it clatter to the ground and then she was following it down.

What the hell was that obnoxious noise? It buzzed like a saw, relentlessly invading his throbbing head. Daniel wanted to scream out for it to shut up, as ridiculous as that was. Instead, he shoved a pillow on top of his head to muffle the ruckus. He willed the feather down to block out the irritating sound.

To his surprise, the buzzing ceased as if graciously meeting his needs. Suddenly feeling the air closing in on him, suffocating and heavy, Daniel flipped the pillow from his face. He sucked in air too fast, coughing when the chill hit his lungs. God, he felt terrible. This feeling was far too similar to the withdrawal he had undergone after the sarcophagus addiction. He shuddered at the memory, the pain from that imprinted like a tattoo in his mind. He had hoped never to experience anything like that again, but here he was, weaker than a newborn. Just like then.

No, this was different. Then the pain had ripped into him, causing muscles to spasm and contract. The agony was indescribable. Now, though, he just felt sick. Nausea was a constant companion, cold sweats a frequent visitor and loss of motor control were becoming more common as the minutes ticked by. This was definitely different, but just as scary. He’d had people around him then. He wouldn’t turn people away now.

Phone…where was the phone? He had a sudden need to call Jack and Sam, though he wasn’t sure if it was for companionship or for someone to join his misery party, because everyone knows misery loves company. Huh. Both reasons seemed to really be one and the same. Flipping over onto his back, Daniel looked for his cordless phone again. He’d searched far and wide for it earlier, with no happy result. Obviously or he’d be talking to one of his friends already. He buried his face into his pillow again, muffling the strained laughter as he forced himself to be honest: yeah, he’d looked for it all right.

From his horizontal position on the bed, unable or unwilling to move from its semi-safe haven.

He now remembered taking the handset out of the room yesterday, too exhausted to want to deal with callers. His friends had the tendency to call repeatedly when he didn’t answer, knowing that when he was on world he sometimes crashed and was hard to wake. The logical thing for him to have done was simply turn the phone off rather than remove it…but he apparently hadn’t been thinking clearly.

The buzzing noise came back and it was more insistent than ever. It shot spikes right down Daniel’s spine. What the hell was that? Head throbbing, he stumbled off the bed to locate the cause for his wretchedness. He half crawled, half walked to his bedroom door, reaching it barely in time to stop himself from falling. Whoa. Clutching the doorframe, he finally realized what the noise was. His phone. He staggered drunkenly through his living room, stubbing a bare toe on the couch. Cursing, he tried to grab the wounded appendage. Balance not being his forte even while not suffering from muscle spasms and embarrassing weakness, he tumbled to the floor and landed in a graceless heap with his chest heaving.

The cold sweat once again trickled down his back, followed closely by body-wracking shivers. Daniel clenched his jaw tightly to stop his teeth from chattering. God, this was sheer hell. He again thought of Sam and Jack, wondering how they were doing. Call them? They had to be better than he was; he scoffed at his frailty. He had been the last to get his armband, and the first to lose it. How discomforting.

“Wuss, wuss, wuss,” the voices chanted in his head. God, even with the armbands he had been weaker than Jack and Sam. Sam, for Pete’s sake. He wasn’t a chauvinist, but it bothered him that a woman had more lasting strength than he had. Huh. Maybe he was a sexist. Whatever the ruling on that, the bitterness now hit him so hard that he knew it was merely a residual effect of the alien device. Self-pity always was the hardest hitter when it came to withdrawal from addictive substances.

He had to stop thinking about his weakness. Maybe that would prevent it from escalating. He had to reach the phone, he reminded himself. The cordless was probably dead and he was thankful his pounding head wasn’t being attacked by dual bells. The shrill tone cut off mid-ring, leaving him drowning in the silence of the apartment. Turning onto his stomach, he pushed himself up with trembling arms. He forced them to lock and brought his legs up. He gave up on trying to walk—it was simply too tiring. Crawling he could manage. So, crawling like a baby is what he did. Shaking violently, Daniel wondered how such a short trip could take so long, when his head smacked into the island in the dining area. He clutched at the wood, willing himself off his hands and onto his knees only. Almost there. Just a bit….

He stretched his arms across the counter and felt his fingers connect heavily with the phone, sending it falling to the floor. He heard it chime as it hit and then he was sliding down the length of the cabinet. It no longer mattered that he was supposed to call someone…Jack?…Sam?…the only thing that mattered was sleep.

Darkness beckoned him and he went to it gladly.

Jack couldn’t stem the apprehensive feeling Carter’s call had initiated. It *wasn’t* like Daniel to not answer his phone and, being as they were all off cars for a while, he knew the archaeologist had to be home. Not even Daniel would dare defy Fraiser’s instructions and leave his apartment. Especially not if the younger man felt as crappy as he himself did at the moment. He tentatively lifted and made a half-hearted attempt to replace his phone. It landed a good three inches short of the mark, but he found himself not caring at all. He couldn’t remember if he’d hung it up or not. If not, anyone calling him would be out of luck. He wouldn’t be here anyway. He was going to defy the good doctor. Concern for his team took precedence over covering his own ass, literally as the case might be. Fraiser had a penchant for needles.

He sat up and watched the bedroom spin around him. Or maybe it was him spinning? First one foot, then the other contacted the cold floor. Damnit, he needed the phone back to call a cab. As he tried to stand, his legs demonstrated just how unwilling they were to cooperate by turning to mush. He clutched at his night table, barely able to maintain a kneeling position as his suddenly thick fingers clawed at the phone. Dialing 4-1-1 had never been so difficult, but he managed to get through and had the lucky operator help him track down the nearest cab company. By the time he was put through, he was already spent.

“Yellow Cab, area code and phone number, please,” a dispatcher said.

“Yeah, I, uh, need a taxi as soon as possible.” Jack could hear his own, slurred voice and randomly hoped the cab company didn’t think he was drunk. Not that it mattered. He attempted to infuse some authority into his tone. He didn’t think it worked. “Right away.”

“I need your area code and phone number, sir.”

He rattled off his number and address, then dropped the phone without confirmation. He had bigger things to worry about. Like dressing. A quick perusal of his attire mad him decide he probably should change but was going to just stay in his pajama bottoms and T-shirt anyway. He’d just throw on a sweatshirt or something. What did it matter if all he was going to do was pick up Carter and go to Daniel’s? Both of them had seen him in much worse. Besides, he really didn’t think he was capable of the effort of undressing and redressing at this point.

He staggered to his dresser and tugged out one of his Minnesota Wild sweatshirts. He wrestled it over his head. It took his all of his flagging strength and he had to creep back toward his bed to sit down. Halfway there, the ring of his doorbell sounded, reverberating through his head. Groaning, he switched direction and made his way to the front door. Everything wavered before his eyes, causing him to stumble over several pieces of furniture. Finally, the big door loomed before him. He weakly pulled it open, wondering if it was possible for inanimate objects to suddenly gain mass. An impatient, overweight cabbie stood at the door, sucking on a cigarette and scowling at him.

“Don’t usually come to the door. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Jack winced, both from the abrasive tone of the driver and the sunshine bombarding his retinas. He fumbled for his shades and keys, not bothering to give a response. He poked himself in the eye with one of the bows, inducing tears. He cursed under his breath and finally managed to put the sunglasses on. Ignoring the driver, he inched down the sidewalk for the vehicle waiting at the curb.

“You do know you’re barefoot, right?” the man scoffed as he passed Jack, heading for the passenger door and holding it open. “Suppose you don’t care too much right now, eh, buddy?”

He looked down at his feet and realized the driver was right. He curled his bare toes self-consciously. It was too much work to go back for shoes now. The twenty foot sidewalk might as well have been a mile. Jack returned his gaze to the cabbie, saying with as much dignity as he could muster, “It doesn’t matter. Just take me to 1707 Rosewood Lane.”

“You got it, bud. Back to home or back to the scene of the crime?”

“Checking on a friend.” Jack was never so happy to feel the soft cushion of the back seat of a taxi. He sank into it, eyes closing as he leaned his head back. “Had a rough night.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Don’t worry, good ol’ Stu will get you there. Let me know if you’re going to ralph, though. It takes weeks to get the stink out,” Stu said, slamming the door and climbing behind the wheel.

His stomach heaved at the mere mention of vomiting and cold sweat returned. He was unable to stifle a weak moan as he tried to swallow his nausea If he had his eyes open, he knew the world would once again be spinning, even sitting down. The signs were telltale—he was going to pass out. Too bad he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Hey, you okay back there? Sleeping? Damn drunks. Guess I’ll have to wake him when we get there. Shit, I bet he doesn’t even have any money. Buddy, you’d better be planning on paying me.”

Stu’s muttering registered on the edge of consciousness, though he couldn’t build enough energy to refute the words. He tried to open his eyes and lift his head, but felt even those functions slipping away. Giving in, Jack slumped down and let the darkness of unconsciousness take full control.

Teal’c admitted to himself that a couple of days ago he had felt a slight smugness at being the only member of SG-1 to not receive any reprimand from General Hammond. Having his three friends confined to their homes for the entire weekend granted him much time to reconsider that stance. The corridors of the SGC seemed abnormally quiet without their presence. Even when on stand down, they were renowned for being on base instead of at their homes. He had felt the division from them very intensely while they were undergoing the Tok’ra experiment and rather than the gap lessening now the tests were over, it felt as thought it were growing.

He suddenly felt the need to be close to his friends. Their homes were frequent retreats when the confines of Cheyenne Mountain became too oppressive even for him. One of them would offer their home to him, glad to have him as a guest for one or two nights. Teal’c exited his quarters and made his way to the infirmary, knowing Doctor Fraiser’s shift would soon be over. He hoped that perhaps she would be willing to take him off base. O’Neill’s home was the largest, he had spent the most time there and the other man would be the least surprised by an impromptu visit; also, it would not appear out of the ordinary for him to appear at O’Neill’s doorstep uninvited, thus not revealing his loneliness. Calling ahead would be courteous, but doing so brought the risk of being told not to make the journey. He knew he had been unsubtle in his amused haughtiness with all three of his human friends and they likely would not wish to see him. That was, as O’Neill might say, most unfortunate.

When he walked through the door, he found the infirmary was unusually quiet. All of the beds were unoccupied. He located Doctor Fraiser in her office, her head resting on crossed arms and sprawling across the top of her desk. She had been extremely agitated throughout the course of Anise’s experiment, and he believed she had not had the reprieve of a day off in quite some time. Teal’c felt a spark of sympathy for the doctor, turning to leave her to her moment of relaxation.

“What can I do for you, Teal’c?” her muffled voice halted him.

Teal’c pivoted around. Doctor Fraiser was lifting her head to look in his direction. He cocked an eyebrow with concern. She did indeed appear exhausted, uncustomary dark circles beneath her eyes. He glanced at the clock on her wall, noting she had but five minutes remaining on duty.

“I had hoped you would be willing to take me off base. I would like to venture to O’Neill’s house to ensure he is well. I may also wish to become his houseguest.”

“You miss them too?” Doctor Fraiser asked.

Teal’c shifted his head to one side. It both warmed and disturbed him that she was able to decipher his feelings so readily. He found he was growing more tolerant of the Tau’ri tendency to openly express emotions, even relaxing himself in that regard. His Jaffa training still occasionally balked at the perceived weakness of revealing feelings for the rest of the world to see.

“It is kind of quiet around here, I’ll give you that. Doctor Warner should be here any minute; I’d be happy to take you.”

“Thank you, Doctor Fraiser.”

“You know, I’ve been reviewing Anise’s data regarding the Ateniks and those armbands…” she began. She then trailed off with an indistinct expression flitting across her face.

“Have you found something about which we should be concerned?” he prompted, his own unease stirring at the vague concern he now read in her features. Logic told him that both of them were overreacting, letting their imaginations conjure up worst-case scenarios in the form of unfounded feelings, which seemed, however, very real.

“No, not really.” She sighed, reaching around the back of her head to release her hair. With a headshake, it cascaded to frame her face, which was marred by a slight frown. “Just have an off feeling. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

It had been his past experience that if Doctor Fraiser had an inclination something was amiss, her suspicion was well founded. His primta agreed, flipping around his belly in a most distressing manner. Now more than ever he felt the need to determine if his friends were well. His physical reaction served to increase his uneasy feeling. Fortunately, they did not have to wait long for Doctor Warner to make his appearance. The SGC’s secondary medical officer entered the office within minutes.

“Looks pleasantly empty in here.”

“It is. In fact, I’ve got nothing to apprise you of for a change. With only SG-6 and SG-10 on planets even remotely dangerous, I don’t expect you’ll see much activity either,” Doctor Fraiser said. She hung up her white coat and looked at Doctor Warner. “As always, call my cell if there’s an emergency.”

“Of course. Have a good afternoon and evening.”

“You too.”

Doctor Fraiser moved from the office quickly. Teal’c did not linger far behind. He was surprised to see she did not appear to be traveling to the locker room to don her civilian clothing. He realized his distraction was greater than he had thought—he himself had forgotten to clothe himself properly for leaving the base. He placed a hand upon her forearm as she raised it to swipe her card for retrieval of the elevator.

“Doctor Fraiser, I require a moment in my quarters. I must find something to wear upon my head before I will be allowed to leave the SGC.”

“Oh, right,” she murmured, her face flushing a bit. She ran her card through the reader. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this flighty.”

“It is all right. I, too, am feeling strangely apprehensive.” That much was manifest—he never would have normally left his quarters with the express purpose of departing the SGC without suitable attire.

The doctor looked taken aback by his admission, apparently unaware of what he considered to be blatant evidence of his distraction. The elevator door slid open and two SFs exited. He nodded to Doctor Fraiser and guided her through the opening. They rode without speaking, stopping for a short time only at Teal’c's quarters to retrieve the needed headgear and, as an afterthought, he pocketed the key ring O’Neill had given him.

They remained silent as they finally made their way to the surface. He found himself very comfortable with the quietude, as Doctor Fraiser’s companionship was such as to not require vocalization under normal circumstances. With the increasing concern eating at both of them, conversation would only have served as a reminder of their agitation. They reached the surface and maneuvered through the checkpoints at last and approached her small car. Teal’c moved to the passenger side.

“Don’t forget to adjust the seat before you get in,” Doctor Fraiser told him.

He would never forget that particular task, having hit his knees quite hard on the dashboard on several occasions. He much preferred riding in O’Neill’s truck, but admitted her car handled much more smoothly. It was comparable to comparing a glider to a cumbersome teltac. Said glider made a rapid exit once both passenger and driver were situated. Doctor Fraiser chose what Teal’c knew to be the fastest route to O’Neill’s house. It occurred to him they could easily go to either Major Carter or Daniel Jackson’s home as well, though O’Neill’s was nearest to the SGC.

“Well, I have to say I’m getting a little carried away with worry. Imagination is a dangerous thing sometimes. Here.” Doctor Fraiser threw him her cell phone. “Do me a favor and call the colonel. He’ll probably answer and yell at us for disturbing the last few hours of his time off but I’ll feel better anyway.”

“That would indeed be an unwelcome occurrence,” Teal’c agreed, hoping she understood he was not entirely serious.

He dialed the cell phone and lifted it to his ear. It rang and rang, each tone echoing more loudly in his head than the one before it. He knew after the fourth ring that O’Neill was not going to pick up. Frowning, he punched another set of numbers, telling Doctor Fraiser at the same time, “O’Neill does not answer. I will attempt Daniel Jackson. It is possible they sought each other’s company.”

Daniel Jackson’s telephone indicated a busy signal. Teal’c was relieved to know his friend was apparently well and was conversing with someone. On impulse, he decided to also ring Major Carter, frown returning with an accompanying jaw twitch when she did not answer her telephone either. Two of his three teammates were not responding, which did not necessarily predicate that their situations were unfavorable. Perhaps both O’Neill and Major Carter decided to travel to Daniel Jackson’s apartment. If that was so, then to whom was the archaeologist speaking on his telephone?

“No one?” Doctor Fraiser’s worried voice disturbed his thoughts. Teal’c glanced over and shook his head once. She returned her gaze to the road and clenched the steering wheel more tightly. “Oh.”

He noted their speed increased upon his revelation and he approved of that action. Teal’c could not ascertain a logical reason, but he was positive when they arrived at O’Neill’s house they would not find good news.

Janet chewed on the cuticles of her left fingers, steering the car only with her right. Teal’c's attempted phone calls had heightened her agitation regarding the three human members of SG-1. Call it woman’s or physician’s intuition, she just had a sick feeling in her entire body about what the lack of response might imply. Might, she reminded herself. Might wasn’t proof positive. Her right foot inched down on the accelerator, anyway, and the need to reach Colonel O’Neill’s house as soon as possible didn’t dissipate. She was sickened to think about what they might find.

She mentally replayed the displeasure she had felt when Anise was conducting her all important experiment on her patients…damnit, her friends. She had known then that it hadn’t been a good idea but hadn’t been able to put a stop to it, and that was what bothered her the most. It stuck in her gut that she’d had to sit by while Sam, Daniel and the colonel’s bodies quite frankly turned against them. She knew she shouldn’t have caved and let them off base after their return from blowing up Apophis’ ship, but had succumbed to irritation with their adolescent behavior. Stupid. If it turned out there was something wrong with them now, she knew she had no one to blame but herself.

“Doctor Fraiser, we approach O’Neill’s house. Should we not decelerate?” Teal’c's calm and deep voice called.

Startled, she pulled herself out of her needless self-condemning thoughts. The colonel was going to be home—he was just sleeping and didn’t hear the phone ringing. Janet shook her head; she was being placating to her own inner self. As she pulled the car into the empty driveway, she noted all of the lights were off. Dusk was falling all around them, and there should be a light or two on.

“Doesn’t look like he’s home.”

“O’Neill could be asleep.”

“God, I hope so,” she muttered, putting the car in park and switching it off. Teal’c nearly launched himself out his side. She managed to keep pretty close pace with him as he strode up the long sidewalk. “Teal’c! Wait for me.”

The Jaffa slowed his pace, allowing her to take up position next to him. Almost as one, they jaunted up the steps and stood before the big front door. Teal’c rang the doorbell, and they waited for a good while, receiving no answer. Janet hoped her theory of the colonel being in a deep sleep was in fact the truth. The alarm bells in the back of her mind now tolled at full blare, though. Impatiently, she raised her fist and pounded several times.

“Colonel O’Neill? Colonel, are you in there?”

“O’Neill has given me a key, Doctor Fraiser, for safekeeping. Daniel Jackson has on several occasions left the SGC without his and O’Neill thought it best if he, Daniel Jackson and Major Carter each kept a spare with me,” Teal’c rumbled, a hand reaching into his pocket.

“Well, what are you standing there for?” Janet said, wincing at the desperation in her tone. She was quickly losing her professional cool. Luckily, if she were going to do that in front of anyone, Teal’c would be her first choice. There was something very comforting about his presence. And his reticence. “Open the door!”

“I believe that to be the proper course of action as well.” Janet shifted her weight from right to left foot as Teal’c slid the key into the door, uttering something in Goa’uld under his breath when it jarred open before he unlocked it. Whatever he’d said, she couldn’t agree more. The colonel would only leave his door open if he was expecting company, which he wasn’t. Teal’c raised a cautionary hand, silently telling her to remain where she was. He eased the door open just enough to let himself into the house, leaving her standing on the small porch area alone. Unconsciously, she raised her left hand to chew on her fingernails again as she waited for what seemed like endless minutes.

She fixed her attention on the crack of darkness the open door created, watching for movement. At last Teal’c returned with an expression on his face even more grim than before. The mere fact she could discern a change in his countenance told her the situation was serious. Images of the colonel injured or even dead sprang up, courtesy of an overactive imagination. At least she hoped it was only her imagination.

“What? Teal’c, what’s going on? Is he okay?”

“O’Neill is not here.”

“Okay…so maybe he went over to Daniel’s? I don’t suppose you’d turn down a ride across town to check it out?”

“I would not.”

“Do you still have my phone? Maybe you should try Daniel’s place again.”

“It remains in your car, Doctor Fraiser.”

“Well then, let’s go.”

Janet cast a final look into the dark and empty house before Teal’c shut the door tightly and ensured it was locked. With anyone else, Janet might have succumbed to nervous chatter, but as they rapidly made their way back to the car, they remained silent. Those persistent negative images reasserted themselves in her mind, now broadening to include Sam and Daniel as well as Colonel O’Neill. As they neared the vehicle, Teal’c sped up, racing to the passenger side and throwing the door open. It took her a moment to realize her phone was ringing and he was reaching to pick it up. She had a brief flash of hope that it was one of their wayward friends before she thought it more than likely was Doctor Warner. She cursed the timing, and a second later felt guilty for doing so.

“Doctor Fraiser’s cellular telephone,” Teal’c said. He paused for a minute, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I see. We are at O’Neill’s home at the moment, General Hammond. He is not here. Yes.”

Teal’c ceased speaking and mutely handed her the cell phone, a perturbed look darkening his eyes. She blinked at him as she lifted the receiver to her ear, not entirely sure she was ready to learn what the general was calling about.

“General Hammond?”

“Doctor Fraiser. Has Teal’c told you anything?” the general said.

“No.” She shook her head as if he’d be able to see her. “But I’m guessing it’s nothing good, sir?”

“That would be a correct assumption, Doctor. We’ve just received a message from the To… our allies. Apparently Anise has uncovered some rather important information regarding the data SG-1 helped them gather a couple of days ago. She wouldn’t relay it over the radio, insisting on delivering her message face to face.”

“Sir, the colonel’s not here. I’m worried about all of SG-1 and this only exacerbates my concern. Before you ask, no, I don’t have any medical evidence to back up my—”

Janet chewed on her lower lip, easily reading nothing good at all in the general’s cloaked comments. If it merited a Tok’ra return trip to Earth, she figured it was bad news. Never mind the fact General Hammond independently arrived at his worried state; she hadn’t told him where she and Teal’c were going and why and she was pretty sure Teal’c hadn’t either.

“Doctor, there’s no need to explain. I’m having SG-9 go to the homes of Major Carter and Doctor Jackson, since they are not responding to their telephones. Seeing as you’re already at Colonel O’Neill’s house, I’ll have them skip that stop. I can only hope he’s with one of the others. I want you and Teal’c back at the SGC immediately. Anise will arrive shortly.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

She clicked off the phone and looked bleakly at Teal’c. Instant weariness set upon her body and mind at the likelihood that their horrible suspicions were about to be confirmed. Janet felt anything but benevolent toward the Tok’ra scientist and her methods. The last thing she wanted was to have extensive dealings with Anise. She’d rather trust her own skills to figure out what had happened. Of course, she had no idea if anything at all had actually happened. She was giving herself a headache.

“The general wants us back at the mountain,” she told Teal’c, sliding again into the driver’s seat.

“Indeed.”

Janet had the car in reverse and out of the driveway before Teal’c could even shut his door.

General George Hammond stared at the phone, worry eating through his stomach. Worry and guilt. Doctor Fraiser had initially been very uncertain about his decision to send SG-1 home, but he had overridden her by forcing her to admit there was nothing wrong with them. And reminding her of their adolescent behavior, he admitted to himself shamefully. It was a foolish mistake, spawned by his irritation with the behavior of the human members of his top team. The doctor’s concern had been very apparent in her tone. If he had learned anything on this command, it was to trust his CMO’s instinct. Whatever Anise had to tell them, he didn’t hold out hope that it was positive news. With SG-1, it so rarely was. He suspected he was about to find out that Janet had been right about the armbands all along.

He disconnected the phone, redialing the NORAD guard’s box at the front gate. Hopefully he could catch SG-9 before they left the facility. He drummed his fingers on the top of his desk, impatiently waiting for someone to pick up. He tried and failed to not dwell on the possible reasons for Anise to have to deliver her information personally. An unconscious shudder shook through him at the prospect. The woman was as personable as a hunk of muenster. Okay, the Tok’ra was not so friendly; Freya might have some redeeming qualities.

“General Hammond, sir? What can I do for you?”

Startled, it took Hammond a moment to remember his line was flagged for all personnel, SGC or NORAD. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded young and timid, so he tried to make his tone as pleasant as possible. “Can you tell me if four of my men have left the base yet? Major Kovachek would have been driving.”

“No, sir, I haven’t seen anyone from your facility leaving since my shift began.”

“Good. They should be arriving at the gate shortly. Please tell them their stop at Colonel O’Neill’s house is unnecessary, but they are to proceed as directed to the other two locations,” he instructed.

“Yes, sir. Anything else, sir?”

“That’ll be all, son. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, letting it crash loudly into the cradle. Anise would be here in half an hour. By then, Janet and Teal’c would be back, and SG-9 would have reported on Major Carter and Doctor Jackson. Until then, Hammond wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He’d already had to dissuade the NID’s request to ‘study’ SG-1 in the hopes of learning more about the virus that had given them their super strength. Fortunately, the rapid dissipation of said strength and irritating cockiness had helped. Now he feared they might have another reason to come knocking at his door. They probably wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to make SG-1 their lab rats—alive or dead. No. He wasn’t going to think in the negative.

Hammond abruptly stood up and exited his office. He moved toward the control room with a stiff gait. The technicians scuttled around, appearing startled by his arrival. There was no activity from the Stargate, but he paused for a moment to study the device. No matter how many times he looked upon the alien object—not quite so alien anymore—it always gave him a sharp pang of realization at how big the universe was and how little his role in it.

“I’m going to the surface to greet Doctor Fraiser and Teal’c when they arrive. We should be back before Anise and her contingent arrive, but in case we’re not, please have me paged,” he ordered Sergeant Davis, who twitched once with a curious look flitting across his face.

“Yes, sir,” Davis said, toning his expression to a blank.

Truth be told, Hammond could not care less if he was around when Anise got here. This whole mess could have been avoided had she had more information regarding the Ateniks and their damned armbands. He’d known as soon as SG-1 was unable to remove them that it had been a mistake to agree to the experiment. Of course, by that time it had been far too late and he’d already been able to sense the changes of personality in his people. He hoped he was letting his imagination run away with him and that there was a perfectly logical explanation for their inability to contact SG-1.

His mind supplied images of SG-1 as he had last seen them—pale to the point of being gray, exhaustion lining normally animated faces. Those things should have made a stay in the infirmary mandatory. Hammond stalked through the corridors to the elevators. He shoved the mental pictures away. Sentimentality and self-blame had no place in his position, especially considering he didn’t even know if there was truly a problem yet.

The halls became blurred gray and the airmen walking through them featureless as he strode toward the entrance to the mountain. He noted the military men and women snapping to attention as he passed, but didn’t respond. He didn’t really know why he was making the journey, knowing the doctor and Teal’c would immediately seek him out upon their return. It wasn’t like they had any additional information to share. Maybe he needed to see for himself that they truly hadn’t found Jack in his home, that he wasn’t magically with them and everything was just fine.

The phone was ringing as he made it to the initial checkpoint, the guard on duty reaching to answer. Damnit. He just knew it was the Tok’ra. The guard’s face snapped up as he spoke into the phone. He was too far away to hear anything, but, judging from the look on the young man’s face, his presumption was correct. Half an hour? Hammond checked his watch, stunned to find that it had indeed been half an hour since his discussion with Anise. Where the hell were Fraiser and Teal’c? He really wanted the doctor there to deal with the Tok’ra.

“Sir, Sergeant Davis asked me to tell you your coffee is ready and will be waiting for you in the conference room,” the guard reported, puzzlement decorating his expression. “He also said you were all out of sweetener.”

Any hopes that Anise was returning to relay good news took a nosedive. He really shouldn’t have harbored them anyway, Hammond told himself. Had she any positive information, she wouldn’t have insisted Janet be present. He nodded once at the guard, ignoring the enquiring look and pivoting around to return to level twenty-eight.

“General Hammond!” Doctor Fraiser’s voice halted him two steps into his departure.

Again turning, he frowned at the still-uniformed doctor walking briskly toward him. If she left the complex like that, she must be more worried than he’d figured. Fraiser scowled as the on-duty guard actually insisted she stop for identification. He couldn’t stop a slight smile at the man’s very brave or very foolish dedication to his job. A glance at Teal’c's face told him the typically stoic man was also extremely agitated and Hammond’s smile vanished. He ran a hand across his bare head.

“Doctor Fraiser, Teal’c. Your timing is impeccable. We’re needed downstairs.”

Both of them frowned and picked up their gaits, shooting looks back toward the guard’s desk. He wanted to join them, assuming they were searching for signs of Sam, Daniel and Jack’s return to the base. Hopefully their safe return. Hammond knew he’d receive a phone call from SG-9 before they’d be brought in, so he knew the action was fruitless. Still, he was unable to resist one last look as the elevator pulled to a halt and its doors opened. Nothing, no miracle appearance.

The elevator car was filled with uneasy quiet as they rode down, each of them training their eyes on the ascending numbers. As it pulled to a stop on eleven, he caught his CMO jumping slightly as the doors slid open. She covered it by fumbling for her badge, though her face revealed her disconcertion and displeasure. An automatic smile played at the corners of his mouth as he recalled her adamant protests regarding Anise during her first visit. Janet Fraiser was not one to get ruffled easily and he had taken guilty pleasure in seeing her irritation running rampant. She’d kill him if she ever found out it amused to see her so feisty.

Amusement faded as they filed into the second elevator and he realized this visit from Anise would likely not be any better for Doctor Fraiser, especially if it turned out her reservations had been warranted. He clenched his fists and tapped them against his hips in a fast rhythm, a motion that was not out of frustration but an attempt to reassure and comfort himself. It didn’t work now, as it had not worked once in his entire life. He walked quickly toward the briefing room. Sergeant Davis stood in the doorway, stepping out into the corridor as they approached, a flustered red tint coloring his cheeks. Hammond couldn’t tell if it was a result of the Tok’ra woman he spotted within the room or Davis’ squirrelly nature. His gut instinct said it was something else entirely.

“General Hammond, I have Major Kovachek on the phone for you. He says it’s extremely urgent, sir.”

Hammond gave up all pretense of control and started running for his office, ignoring the statuesque and open-mouthed Anise.

There was something in the manner Anise moved her mouth that Teal’c did not like. It was as if she had to labor to enunciate every word properly, twisting her full lips in an almost comical fashion, as if they were cumbersome to her and over gesticulation with her eyebrows contributed her the clownish appearance. He could not explain or rationalize the feelings. He simply did not care for the Tok’ra woman. The longer he was in her presence, the more aware of his own prejudiced and somewhat juvenile reaction he became and yet, even knowing he was basing his feelings on trivial items, he could not prevent them. Doctor Fraiser appeared to agree with his inclination, her body tense next to his. He had believed it might become necessary to restrain the smaller woman when Anise had refused to tell them anything until General Hammond returned from within his office. It would have been a difficult task.

“Major Kovachek and his team have reached Major Carter’s home,” the general started speaking, exiting his office to rejoin them. Teal’c did not even have to look at the man to know the telephone conversation had not been good news. “When they did not receive an answer to her doorbell, they broke in and found her unconscious on her bedroom floor. They’re bringing her to the base.”

Kel ma.

“Sir, what about Daniel and the colonel?”

“I had the major split up his team. He’ll bring Major Carter in while the rest of them go to Doctor Jackson’s apartment. I don’t think it’s a rash conclusion to jump to that they may be in trouble as well. I only hope Colonel O’Neill is actually there.”

“General Hammond, if I may?” Teal’c clenched his jaw as Anise’s dual-toned voice filled the room. “The information I have may serve to aid your physicians.”

The general nodded at her shortly, sweeping his arms out in a gesture indicating they should all be seated. Teal’c took a position opposite Anise and regretted it immediately. Doctor Fraiser remained at his side. For several seconds, no one spoke. Finally, the Tok’ra cleared her throat.

“I am not quite sure the best way to state this—”

“You could just spit it out,” Doctor Fraiser said, right hand slapping on the table’s surface.

“Doctor—”

“No, it is all right, General. The doctor has reason for her anger. We do not begrudge her that,” Anise continued, looking down for a moment. When she spoke again, it was only in the voice of her host, Freya. “Doctor Fraiser, I regret that you and Anise have had differences of opinion, but I ask that you attempt to set aside your reservations.”

“Fine.”

Anise once again spoke, “Upon my return to Vorash, I had the opportunity to decipher additional tablets referring to the Atenik civilization and their extinction. It seems I was mistaken in my theory that the limited effect of the armbands allowed the Goa’uld to decimate them. It was certainly a factor. However, I now believe the root cause was the proliferation of a plague among those who had worn the armbands. The majority of the population was felled by the disease, which I believe to be a direct result of the virus injected into their bodies by the armbands.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. The virus disappeared within hours of the armbands falling off,” Doctor Fraiser said.

“That is true.” Anise’s cheeks became an unflattering red hue. Teal’c found himself amused by her discomfiture. “What I only just discovered was that it resurged again after several hours, though not with the same strength or result. Instead of increased physical acuity, the Ateniks began suffering only the less fortunate effects of the disease.”

“Less fortunate?” General Hammond said and stood. “Less fortunate? If you’ll recall, that virus was killing my people. Are you saying that’s going to happen anyway?”

“I’m sorry, General. That’s precisely what Anise is saying,” Freya came forward to say. “SG-1 will deteriorate as they did before, only at a slower rate. We are truly sorry.”

“Apologies will not repair the damage already done,” Teal’c spoke at last. For once he could not attribute the troubling sensation flowing through him to his larval Goa’uld, but to the contents of his own stomach rebelling. His friends were going to die? He could not accept that. “Why was this information only discovered after your experiment was conducted?”

Anise flinched, the tint already smearing her cheeks deepening. She looked down at her hands.

“The tablets upon which the true nature of the virus was recorded were misplaced by my assistant. I believed I had all the necessary information to proceed.”

“Well, I’m positive I’m stating the obvious here, but you made a huge mistake!” Doctor Fraiser said, pushing her chair away from the table. “One that may cause the deaths of three fine humans, not that you care.”

“The Ateniks were able to make some progress in slowing the virus. Perhaps if we applied their treatment to Colonel O’Neill, Doctor Jackson, and Major Carter we could extend their lives long enough to find a cure.”

Teal’c's anger increased with every word Anise intoned. She spoke of his friends as if they were mere tools; subjects for her to study. It reminded him all too much of his time serving under Apophis, having to witness thousand upon thousands of humans dying as if their lives were worth nothing. Having to take those lives with his own hands. This attitude was exactly what had finally helped him decide to break free from Apophis.

“Extend their lives…” Doctor Fraiser rose from her chair. “God, you say that like they’re cattle or something. I want all of the information you have; and I want it before SG-1 is brought in.”

“Of course. You will have our full cooperation on this matter.”

“I should hope so,” the general said, losing the control Teal’c knew he had to have been exercising. He watched General Hammond pace in front of the window, stopping every so often to stare angrily at the Stargate. “If this error results in the deaths of SG-1, the relationship between Earth and the Tok’ra might be a little…strained in the future.”

It was as serious an ultimatum as Teal’c had ever heard and one he knew would not be taken lightly by General Hammond’s superiors. The general would undoubtedly be reprimanded for making an executive decision without first consulting them. Even should the Tau’ri leaders choose to cite these events as unimportant and continue relations with the Tok’ra, he would ensure their future dealings were as strained as the general implied they would be. He would be able to function without O’Neill, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. But he would not be happy.

“With your permission, General, I’d like to have Anise join me in the med labs.”

“Dismissed, Doctor. You’ll keep me informed on your progress.”

“Of course, sir.”

Teal’c stood as the two women departed and wondered what role he should take. He was tempted to stand guard at the front gate, waiting for the arrival of his ill friends. He hoped the wait would not be lengthy, as he felt the separation from them even more acutely than a few hours ago. He turned to the general to request he take his leave, but before he could speak he heard the telephone within General Hammond’s office ring. Both of them froze for a brief moment, then the general briskly walked into his office.

“Hammond!”

Teal’c could hear a faint trace of the voice on the other end of the line, but was unable to fully understand the words. It was unnecessary to do so. He needed only to monitor General Hammond’s facial expression change from professional blankness to worry.

“Bring him back to the base. I’ll have my aide contact the local hospitals.”

He moved to stand at the open doorway, hands clasped behind his back. General Hammond slammed the phone down, looking at him grimly. Teal’c raised an eyebrow in inquiry, knowing instinctively the base commander had information regarding Daniel Jackson and O’Neill. Based upon the final statement, he assumed it was unfavorable.

“Doctor Jackson was found at his apartment in a similar condition to Major Carter. Colonel O’Neill was not there,” General Hammond explained. “God only knows where he could be. I hope someone found him and brought him to a hospital.”

“I will be available to conduct a search if the need arises, General Hammond.”

“You know I can’t let you do that, son. I think the only thing we can really do at his point is wait. Perhaps Doctor Fraiser could use your assistance. Sergeant Davis, can you come in here please?”

Teal’c took the general’s brusque words as his dismissal, bowed his head slightly and backed away as the small, silver-haired sergeant moved into the office. He felt useless, the only one unable to provide any modicum of assistance in either finding or aiding his teammates. He journeyed toward the infirmary in the hope Doctor Fraiser and Anise would be in need of his help. At the very least he would be present when his friends arrived.

A number of uncharitable and downright bitchy comments were constantly at the tip of Janet’s tongue as she tried to focus on Anise’s grating voice. Deep down she knew she was truly angry with herself for having allowed the Tok’ra to conduct an experiment on three of her patients, her friends. She was as careless as Anise when it came to fully researching the outcome, although, in her own defense, the Tok’ra scientist had been less than forthcoming regarding a number of key aspects of the Atenik armbands. Had she known a virus was the cause for the superhuman abilities, she never would have authorized it.

“So, three injections of this a day,” Janet said, holiding up a vial of fluorescent yellow liquid against the light, “and their decline should be slowed by several days. Do you really think that’s enough time?”

“It will have to be, Doctor Fraiser,” Anise told her. “We also should remember that the Ateniks were not human. Evidence suggests their physical makeup was very different from that of the human body. This may work to our advantage.”

Despite herself, Janet saw a little bit of logic in that particular argument. A very little bit. She scowled at the tube, furrowing her eyebrows in thought.

“I can try to synthesize this, in case we need more than you’ve brought.”

“That will not be necessary. Before I arrived, I took the liberty of doing just that. Because I arrived alone, however, I left most of it back on Vorash. I will return there immediately to retrieve the rest, as well as to inquire about Selmac’s location. Should we not be successful, his host may wish to be here.”

“You think?”

This wasn’t good. SG-1 hadn’t even been brought into the infirmary, and already her emotions were zigzagging. Janet just couldn’t shake the feeling that she was going to be forced to sit around and do nothing, counting on Anise’s magic antidote to work miracles and counting on SG-1 to get themselves out of trouble. As a physician, that was horrible. As a friend, it was far worse. She needed to find a way to occupy her mind and her body while they waited. Sam would be here soon and then she could obtain a better assessment of what they were dealing with. She sighed. She shouldn’t take her frustrations on the person most likely to help.

“Sorry, sorry. I know General Carter would want to be here—thank you for thinking of that,” she muttered before transferring her attention. “Lieutenant Wells, would you be so kind as to escort Anise to the embarkation room?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

Janet tracked the figures as they left the lab, then averted her eyes to stare at the phone. Willing it to ring wouldn’t really work, she knew, yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Again, her imagination got away from her and she pondered all sorts of scenarios to explain why it was taking Major Kovachek so long to bring Sam in. That alone was enough to keep her busy and prevented her mind from wandering to the conditions of Daniel and the colonel. It was a six of one or half dozen of the other as far as she was concerned.

“Doctor Fraiser, is there anything I can do to be of assistance?”

Janet jumped at the deep voice intruding into the quiet. She shifted until she was facing the door, where she saw Teal’c towering. She knew he must feel somewhat adrift in the sudden chaos of nothingness. He always was one to do rather than wait and goodness knew if she felt frustrated at her helplessness, then he would feel it in quadruple. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could think of to help him keep his body and mind occupied.

“I don’t think so, Teal’c, I’m sorry.” She looked around the small infirmary, still searching for something. She had a moment of inspiration. “Wait, I take that back. It would be really great if you could coordinate the effort up at the NORAD entrance—I’ll send some of the orderlies with you. The teams bringing Major Carter and Doctor Jackson in are doing so in a non-traditional manner. In other words, no ambulances. We’ll need those gurneys up there.”

Before she’d even completed her suggestion, Teal’c was moving. Janet watched him closely for several minutes, alarmed to note a slight slump to his shoulders. Suddenly feeling the need for a stiff drink, she moved to give him a hand in gathering materials. It wasn’t as soothing to her as she would have liked, but anything was preferable to standing around chewing her fingernails. A pang of sympathy shot through her as she realized this must be how General Hammond felt every time a team was late to arrive home from a mission.

Too soon, Teal’c and her entourage of orderlies were on their way out the door and she was left alone. She chewed on her lower lip again, an idiosyncrasy she thought she had left behind long ago. At the rate she was going, she’d break skin soon. Janet moved to each of the three stations she’d already prepared and triple-checked that she had everything she might need. She eyed the near-glowing ampoules of Anise’s potion with distaste. Part of her was still skeptical regarding anything the Tok’ra scientist said…she might actually do them more harm by following Anise’s plan, given the already disastrous track record. She didn’t have any other choice. Scowling, she absently rubbed a small bottle with her thumb as if it were a worry stone.

Nervous voices flitted into her subconscious, pulling her away from her glum reverie. Janet snapped to attention, depositing the ampoule onto the tray and turning to watch the door. Within moments, two white-clad men fairly flew through it, gurney sandwiched between them.

“Over this way, please, gentlemen.”

Janet saw Sam’s unmoving form, her friend’s face as white as the sheets, and braced herself for the worst. She scooted out of the way, scanning Sam’s body and impatiently pressed close before flickering her gaze back up to the face.

“Janet?”

Janet reeled back slightly. Heartened by Sam’s conscious state, she leaned over and brushed a hand across the other woman’s forehead. “Sam. It’s going to be okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

Well, that was certainly a stupid question. One, she already knew what had happened and two, Sam had been unconscious for who knew how long. Still, Sam could clarify the symptoms for her, give her hope that Anise’s assessment was incorrect. Janet kept her hand on a warm forehead as the major shifted around weakly, eyes closing again. Frowning, Janet resisted the urge to violently shake her friend in a foolish attempt to bring her back to health. Now there was science at its best. She moved her hand to a wrist and felt a pulse beating too rapidly for her own comfort.

“Janet?” Sam whispered, eyes opening to stare straight at her.

Through her. Leaning closer, Janet gasped when she realized Sam didn’t register the movement. Because she couldn’t see.

Sam couldn’t figure out how Janet had got in her house or, more importantly, what her friend was doing in her bedroom. Her whole body ached, so it was just as well. A doctor seemed an appropriate uninvited guest. What was wrong with her? She had never felt so bad in her entire life. Pervasive weakness in her muscles was apparent without even attempting to move them, and she was abnormally hot. Like someone was lighting matches, blowing them out and flicking them at her. Her skin prickled and seared.

“…okay. Can you tell me what happened?”

What happened? Wasn’t Janet supposed to tell her that? She furrowed her eyebrows once, scrunching her closed eyelids tightly before opening them to peer up at her friend. Confusion railed through her as she saw nothing but indistinct shapes blurred in a deep graywash, her bedroom walls completely unrecognizable to her. She might as well be in a sterile room. Blinking rapidly, she squinted in the hopes of clearing the film from her pupils. Sleep usually didn’t take this long to dissipate.

“Janet?” she asked again, hoping on some level that she was wrong. That she was still sleeping and this was some strange dream.

The dark shape moved and she could just distinguish an arm reaching for her face before a cool hand enveloped her forehead. Sighing, Sam thankfully leaned into the cool caress and closed her eyes again. Not a dream. Janet would tell her what was going on and ease the panic forming in the back of her mind just as she always did. It was okay. It would be. Flu? She was so hot, her mouth arid. A cool cloth replaced the cool hand, making her shiver in appreciation that quickly turned to chill. It was so cold. She swore she had turned the thermostat up when she had got home last…when had she come home again? An image of General Hammond’s face scowled at her and she flinched back as if he were her father issuing a reprimand.

“Yeah, it’s me, Sam,” Janet whispered, and even through her confusion Sam could hear an odd note in her friend’s voice. “I’m going to have a look into your eyes, okay?”

Frowning, she tried to nod in understanding but succeeded only in flopping her head uselessly. Janet called something to someone, then there was a sudden and welcome influx of warmth. Muscles she hadn’t been aware were tense with distress relaxed, by will of whatever was flowing into her veins. Wait. More than Janet was here? Tinny beeping noises suddenly cut through her confusion and she realized she wasn’t at home. Infirmary. Despite the warning, Sam jerked when someone gently lifted her right eyelid. Oh, God, she hadn’t even seen it coming.

She squirmed, panic breaking through the flow of drugs to dampen common sense. Holding her more firmly, Janet murmured something she supposed was meant to calm her down. Pain accompanied the panic, a far more effective deterrent to motion than any words could be. It felt as if someone had opened her up, poked at all her organs and then done a bad job of sewing her back up. She moaned, her fright increasing at how weak she sounded—like an hour old kitten separated from its mother. Not herself. The drugs reasserted themselves in counterpoint to her panic, easing her body if not her mind.

Racing, her mind struggled to remember what had happened to make her so sick. She recalled looking at her pathetic reflection in her bathroom mirror. Calling the colonel, then Daniel…who hadn’t answered. Fear, worry. Were they sick too? Lifting her head off the pillow and opening her eyes wider as if doing so would make them see, she searched the haze for signs of either teammate. What about Teal’c? No, Teal’c was fine because of his symbiote; because he couldn’t participate in Anise’s experiment. The armbands, of course! It never should have taken her so long to figure it out. Gasping, she remembered her dizziness and tumble to the floor. Then nothing. The colonel must have come over and found her. That meant he was all right.

“Colonel O’Neill? Daniel?” Sam asked, forgetting about her sightlessness for the moment. There was a long pause and she strained to see Janet through the fog. Squinting yielded very little result, though she thought she could make out an outline of her friend’s form. “Janet? What?”

“Teal’c and I went to the colonel’s house earlier today and he wasn’t there, nor had you or Daniel responded to phone calls. SG-9 found you and are on their way to Daniel’s apartment. Hopefully, he and Colonel O’Neill are there, but we’re also calling all the local hospitals and mor…the hospitals.”

“The armbands.”

“Yes,” Janet confirmed, taking up her hand.

How long had she been unconscious? Trying to focus was becoming increasingly difficult but she felt as though there were something she needed to tell Janet. She blinked slowly, then decided just to keep her eyes closed. Thoughts skulked around in her head or, more accurately, ghosts of memories and Janet’s words. The colonel sounding so tired on the phone, yet worried; her relief that he took her concern for Daniel seriously and was on his way over to set her at ease…but he hadn’t shown up. No, Janet had said he wasn’t here, that they were looking at hospitals and somewhere else. Somewhere that had made her friend choke on the word. Dead…they thought the colonel could be dead?

“That bad?” Please, no.

“Yes,” Janet said.

Sam was grateful for the honesty even though it sickened her heart. The colonel, Daniel…dead. Or dying. Janet clearly wasn’t sure she could work a miracle like she always did and that scared her more than her own symptoms, more than anything had in quite some time. Sam opened her eyes. She could still discern a slight shift in her vision as her eyes jostled with tiredness and drugs. Deeper gray teased and she didn’t know if it was caused by approaching unconsciousness or blindness.

“It’s okay, Sam. Just rest now. Everything will be okay.”

Janet was lying and doing a poor job of it at that. Sam tipped her head in the direction she believed her friend was situated, hoping her expression of disbelieving reproach wasn’t actually as blank as her eyesight. Tightening of fingers on her cool hand told her that the message had been received as she succumbed to complete darkness.

I Will Not Take These Things For Granted
by Carrie

God, I’m so tired.

How many nights have I spent like this? How many missions spent hopelessly awake? I can hear frogs singing pleasant lullabies in the distance, leaves rustling hypnotically in the gentle breeze. These things should soothe me into sleep, but I’ve gone beyond that now—fatigued to the point where sleep is no longer possible. I know it will successfully evade me again, so I don’t even try. Don’t even close my eyes anymore. The only reason I’m even lying down is so they won’t whisper those hushed words of concern; words I don’t have to hear to know exist.

How many nights has it been? Twenty-seven. Nearly a month, but in my mind it’s only been a day. My body tells me otherwise. I’m in a never-ending, numb purgatory and I haven’t a clue if I’m heading for heaven or hell. Or which of the two I prefer. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters at all. Dead is dead.

Dead. Like Sha’re. I light my watch inches from my face. Right on schedule. 2:45 a.m., same time I always lead to that brilliant revelation. Twenty-seven 2:45s. I don’t know if I can take many more before I go completely and unequivocally insane, for real this time. I know I need to move on before this eats me alive. I understand that. I just can’t.

They try, each of them in their own way. At first I didn’t hide the insomnia from them. After all, everyone expected it—a person doesn’t witness his wife blown away by a good friend without some psychological damage. Sam busted me with my ‘stay awake forever’ routine years ago, but I can see she doesn’t have a clue what to say or do around me. Jack has always seen past my sad attempts to pretend life is normal. I guess it’s from living with him all those weeks right after Sha-

No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking. Thinking there must have been something else Teal’c could have done. I’ve even thought about getting a little help from our old friend the Gamekeeper, though I know there’s nothing anyone can do to fix this. I don’t blame Teal’c, but I can’t really look at him either.

A week is all it took before Jack’s scowl became omnipresent, eating into me even when he wasn’t near. Before Sam’s lip trembled and her eyes brimmed with tears every time she passed me. Before Teal’c jaw muscles started spasming and refused to stop. I saw their anxiety, but it only seemed to fuel my hurt. They’ve caught me staring into nothingness instead of sleeping. I’ve added fresh layers of concern on top of them. Not a burden I wanted on my shoulders.

So I took to burrowing in my sleeping bag, feigning rest. Started taking the last watch so I could down an entire pot of coffee before they rose. It’ll be over soon, this grief period, and then I can let them back in.

A loud thud and muffled curse disturb my unpleasant thoughts. Jack. It’s as good an excuse as any to be up early for my watch. I throw back the sleeping bag and carelessly throw my boots on. Stumbling out of my tent, playing the role of disoriented camper with the skill of a Shakespearean actor, I spot Jack sitting on a log next to the fire. He’s rubbing his bad knee with venom.

Silently, I glide onto a rock on the opposite side of the fire. We sit wordless for a good ten minutes, I avoiding his intent stare. I can take it no more and finally look to him. In that instant I see he knows. My ruse hasn’t been as clever as my sleep-deprived mind convinced itself it was. Abashedly, I avert my eyes again, staring at the crackling fire instead. I hear him move, muffling a grunt when his knee catches. He gracelessly plops down next to me and says nothing.

I don’t move.

“Forty-three.”

I jump as his voice cuts through the night, silencing the frogs. The wind has mysteriously disappeared and we are engulfed in suffocating stillness. My heart pounds in my chest, both from his words and the implication behind them. I know he’s expecting me to give him some sort of response. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s referring to, and I’m not ready to provoke the topic just yet.

“Forty-three drunken, horrible, sleepless nights. Then five sober, horrible, sleepless nights,” Jack murmurs again.

He’s not going to let me off the hook.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t figure it out?” he asks. “Hell, Carter’s been watching the coffee supply like a hawk. Teal’c's got that Jaffa sixth sense thing or whatever. And I just know, Daniel.”

The tears burn and blur my eyes. I sigh tiredly and look over at him. Even through my pain I can see Charlie haunting his expression.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he prompts with a nudge to my knee.

“Ask what?” I shoot back, really unsure where he’s trying to lead me.

“What happened on the forty-fourth day.”

“Okay. What happened on the forty-fourth day?” I repeat in monotone.

“You. You and Skaara. Back in that cave on Abydos, remember?” Jack whispers. “God, I was so messed up I was even drinking myself into a stupor after I’d been reinstated. During the mission. Didn’t know that, did you? You stopped that cold. It still surprises me how easily you did it; how much I needed a friend to slap me upside the head. Even back then I knew, Daniel. Knew you were my friend, and that simply proved it. It wasn’t long after that that I was able to move out of my self induced hell.”

He’s told me this before—told me he owed me his life. Never with specifics and never while completely solemn. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell me. I must look more befuddled than usual, because Jack sighs, grabs the scruff of my neck in a tight, gentle grip. He pulls my head closer to his, so we’re only inches apart.

Instinct makes me try to flinch away, but his hold is iron. Brown eyes bore into me, but they’re not hard like his grasp. They’re softer than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re not alone, Daniel. Don’t allow yourself to be. We’re here, all of us. Let us help you,” he earnestly whispers.

Then he releases me, rises and moves to his tent. I track his movement, half expecting him to return to the fire. He doesn’t. I’m left alone with his words and they surround me, circle in my head over and over.

All my life, I’ve been alone. Dealt with my pain alone. It hasn’t got me very far. He’s right and I know it. I’ve always known it. I don’t think I’ll be seeing sleep anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean I can’t lean on my friends’ willing shoulders.

I stir the fire and wait for the new day, no longer filled with emptiness and dread, but hope.

The End

Jiggle on the Bay
by Carrie

This was nuts, this wasn’t happening, this was nuts. Daniel would give just about anything to be somewhere other than here. And he’d give up coffee for a month if he could only be transported to General Hammond’s annual Christmas gathering—at least he had been told it was annual, he only remembered one—instead of stuck on this antiluxury cruise. P8Q 792 was supposed to have been a quick mission. No first contact, nothing archaeo or anthropological for him, nothing military. A mineral snatch and grab. Why SG1 got saddled with it in the first place was beyond him.

“You can’t tell me we don’t have some type of ranking system for missions, and that we’re not at the top of the list,” Daniel complained, realizing after he said it how pretentious it sounded.

“We do, Daniel. It’s called Hammond said we had to go,” Jack told him gruffly. “Besides, that which doesn’t kill us doesn’t…kill…makes…”

Daniel dropped his head as Jack trailed off into uncomfortable silence. He heard Sam give a soft, distressed exhalation, and closed his eyes in recognition of where everyone else’s minds had just gone. Clearing his throat, he tried to think of something to distract him from what he didn’t want to talk about. Couldn’t talk about, because there wasn’t much he could say anymore.

He wasn’t alone, that was something. He wasn’t the only one stuck on a raft in the middle of the deadest bay of water known to man or alien during the holidays. Water, right. He raised his head to scowl at the expanse of unmoving green surrounding them. Leaning over the side until he could see his reflection, he unsheathed his knife and jabbed it just to see what would happen. Aside from a squelching sound, nothing did.

“Daniel, I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Remember reading about the mission where we had to help the Russians shut down their Stargate? We could be witnessing another life form in action,” Sam scolded him.

He remembered reading. He didn’t remember it. There were still holes in his memory.

“You think this,” Jack said, waving both his arms wide. “This—I don’t even know what to call it—is alive?”

“I don’t know, sir, but it could be.”

Huh. Daniel stabbed the gelled surface again. Nothing reached up and grabbed him. Nothing happened at all. They were well and truly stuck here, until they became so overdue the SGC tried to contact them. On the upside, this mission was only supposed to have lasted three hours. He tried no to think about how long the window was before they’d be noticed missing. He should know by now, but truthfully never wanted to think about that particular aspect to his job.

He envisioned himself at the general’s house, eating one of those melt-in-your-mouth, buttery things Janet always made. Everyone at the base was probably already at the party, which meant SG1 was screwed. He poked the problematic Jello. It slooshed.

“Daniel Jackson, Major Carter is correct. It is unwise to continue provoking the substance,” Teal’c said.

Daniel flinched, dropping his knife. It glubbed under the surface loudly and sank out of sight. He wondered why the raft wasn’t sinking, then decided he shouldn’t consider that and just be grateful. He leaned away from the edge of the raft and stared up at the bright moon in a childish attempt to pretend he’d done nothing.

“Provoking the substance,” Jack repeated, sounding a bit too amused to Daniel. “Oh, that’s funny, Teal’c, whether you meant it that way or not.”

“Jack, did you happen to bring alcohol on this mission?” Daniel said, glaring at his friend. Unbelievable. How could anyone find anything about this funny? He was envious. “And if so, do you feel like sharing?”

Okay, he was being pissy, but damnit. Damnit, he could pretend he was at General Hammond’s, surrounded by all of his friends and the good cheer they guaranteed, but make believe was just that. He’d always know he was really here, surrounded by silence and darkness and alien goo.

“No alcohol, Daniel, but it’s not like we can do anything about our situation right now. We’d all rather be somewhere else.”

Jack was right, he was whining. Daniel wasn’t really even sure why this was such a big deal to him; his desire to be somewhere other than here was irrational at best—he didn’t think he actually celebrated Christmas for Christmas itself. He just wanted, needed. It was the feeling, the comfortable warmth of belonging, if only for a few hours. There was a difference in people around the holidays, something he had never appreciated until he’d come back from Abydos. God, Abydos. There was a hole in his memory about Abydos. There was a hole in him. If he were at a party, he could hide among the festivities and pretend all was bright. Believe all was bright.

None of them spoke, and the silence became oppressive. There wasn’t even the gentle sound of waves lapping against the side of the raft to focus on. Daniel stared up at the moon again, watched the stars. It was beautiful here, he had to admit, the moonlight lending a silvery sheen to the green gel that used to be water. His friends looked fragile and ghostly in it, even Teal’c, and yet arresting. He glanced down at his own hands to see if he looked even a little the same. He seemed solid, but felt as though he could fade away any second.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sam said at last. “Clearly, whatever caused the water to turn has something to do with nightfall. We were fine until the sun set, right? Before we left the SGC, we calculated the number of hours in a full day here was about half that as on Earth, which means night should go pretty quickly.”

“You know, you could have mentioned we were heading out on a mission at dusk, Carter,” Jack said. “Sailing at night is a blast and all, but if I had a choice I’d take day. And to tell you the truth, I’m not even really sure why we had to jet out here to do whatever it is you have to do.”

Tell it. Daniel was vaguely justified in being pissy now that someone else was finally showing signs of the same.

“I didn’t actually know it was dusk, sir, and there’s no way I could have predicted this would happen.”

Someone snorted. Daniel had an awful feeling it had been him, but the way Jack shot an incredulous look at Teal’c told him otherwise. Sam stopped talking in favor of turning herself slightly away from them and staring out into the nothingness. God, what a mess they were. He shivered and gazed the direction Sam was. Now everything just seemed a wasteland, the silvery rays illuminating barrenness, cool and bleak.

“Sam,” Daniel said softly, moving closer to her. He was ashamed of his behavior. He touched her on the arm and repeated, “Sam.”

Half a second later, Daniel had his arms full as Sam latched onto him with a hug as desperate as it was fierce. He was lost in it, so far out of his depth he might just as well have been tipped over the raft and into the gelatinous mess. She pulled away from him before he could gather his senses…or her into a hug of his own, looking back out across the bay. He struggled to breathe, still drowning.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I’m sorry.”

“Crap,” Jack muttered.

The raft jiggled slightly while Jack shifted and resituated himself on the outer edge of it. Daniel remembered a song and he sang to himself, jiggle bells, jiggle bells, jiggle on the bay. Something was so not right with him.

“Carter, it’s not your fault. I was being an ass. I know we’re not your brother and his family, but we’re here and safe. We’re together, at least.”

They went silent again. Daniel still had his hand on Sam’s arm. He squeezed gently, not knowing what he could or should say. Sam sighed, reaching up to touch her face. Brushing away tears, he realized. It had never seemed strange to him that so many found the holidays a lonesome time. It seemed even less strange now.

“Okay, so worst case scenario is we have to stick around until daybreak,” Jack said, apologizing again in tone if not word. “That’s not so bad.”

“It is acceptable, O’Neill,” Teal’c agreed.

Daniel nodded, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Sam. He could feel her hugging him still, and he was cold. He longed for the warmth of mulled wine, laughter from the den, the smell of cinnamon. He wished once more to be off this planet, as if he kept on wishing then it would magically happen.

“I remember…”

Jack paused and cleared his throat. Daniel finally looked away from Sam, and found Jack staring at him, eyes shadowy in the moonlight. The force of the gaze was as physical a thing as Sam’s hug had been, and it had the same effect. He wanted to save himself, to look away, but couldn’t. He was powerless. His head spiraled. He clenched his fingers around Sam’s arm, trying to steady himself though he knew he couldn’t really be spinning. It felt good to touch, filled him somehow.

“I used to love Christmas. So did Ch…so did my son. He’d get so wound up the night before Sara and I didn’t know how we’d ever manage to play Santa, but he never caught on. Guess my training was good for something back then, after all. The year we got him his bike was the best, the best. He was so excited and happy, he hopped on it right there and took off outside with his pajamas on. I had to chase him three blocks. It was twenty degrees out.”

He didn’t remember everything, details were fuzzy, but Daniel knew Jack didn’t talk about Charlie. Jack didn’t smile about Charlie, but his teeth were displayed now and there was genuine happiness behind it. He sucked in a breath, and smiled himself, unable to help it. He saw Jack, puffing and red-cheeked and he saw Charlie. He smelled fresh snow. Sam moved beneath his fingers, didn’t pull from his touch. Icy fingers covered his own. They didn’t chill him.

“It was not until I came to Tau’ri that I experienced a feast day such as Christmas,” Teal’c said solemnly, continuing what Jack had begun. “On Chulak, we were not permitted celebrations that would strengthen community bonds. However, every year on the anniversary of my birth, my mother would allow me to do as I pleased. This was the only day of the year in which I allowed myself to forget I was Jaffa. I have fond memories of these days.”

Sam’s hand was warmed now, and her thumb moved in a circular pattern over the top of his. Daniel looked at Teal’c. He noticed for the first time that his friend’s eyes weren’t lined with kohl, that the shimmer to his skin came solely from the moon. He should have seen that before, certainly after Teal’c had confided in him about the living with Tretonin. He saw it now. It was strange and reassuring to see Teal’c stripped to himself. Forgetting he was Jaffa. Teal’c of the Tau’ri nodded at him, and it was the most important thing in the world.

“We moved around a lot, so much when I was young,” Sam started to say, her voice thick with shed and unshed sorrow. “I didn’t mind, not really, but I was always worried Santa wouldn’t be able to find our house. One year, my dad was transferred a month before Christmas. Mark and I freaked out. We’re talking full-scale panic. Mom and dad actually played it up—said we had better be extra good or we really would be skipped over. We were angels for the first time in our lives, and it was torture but it was so worth it. Santa found us, of course, and we got everything that we wanted. Everything.”

Daniel wondered what everything was. He didn’t have any childhood memories of Christmas. His foster parents tried, but his parent had so firmly established the holiday’s origins and traditions with him that he couldn’t view Christmas as anything but a commercial farce. Seeing Sam smiling at her memories made him pang with regret for himself, but also happiness that she had something to cherish. He turned his hand until he had hers in a light grasp. She jerked back slightly at first, then relaxed into the hold. He smiled at her. She stared at him as if surprised, and then smiled back. Over Sam’s shoulder, Daniel could see the placid gel surface of the bay reflect the dim light like a mirror.

“Daniel?” Jack said softly. He sounded hopeful, afraid. “What about you? What do you remember?”

He remembered going to General Hammond’s house that first Christmas, scared out of his wits. His clothes hadn’t fit right, and Daniel had been pretty sure he wouldn’t fit right into the group of people gathering for drinks and food and good times. He remembered hanging in the corner, standing next to a curious, silent Teal’c, wondering when he could make for the door without breaking some social custom he had no knowledge of. He remembered Sam smiling with Janet, both of them crossing the room to join them. He remembered Jack handing him a cup of spiced rum and joking about building up a tolerance to alcohol. He remembered General Hammond clapping him on the shoulder and calling him son. There had been mistletoe and mischief, and he had relaxed. He had fit. He had felt warmth and welcome.

“Daniel?” Sam said, clutching at his hand.

“You don’t have a best Christmas?” Jack prompted.

Daniel looked around at all three of his teammates, then cast his gaze out to the gel. He didn’t long for mulled wine, laughter from the den, the smell of cinnamon. The taste of Janet’s buttery cookies wasn’t what he wanted now. He thought about what his friends had done at Christmas last year.

“Yes,” Daniel said. “Of course I do.”

“Well, what is it?”

His friends watched him, he could sense it even though he wasn’t looking. He felt Sam hugging him, Jack’s eyes boring into him as if memorizing every line on his face, every strand of hair, Teal’c tipping his head. Daniel was overwhelmed. He had thought he needed something, but he already had it. They needed more.

“This one,” he said. “This one.”

The End

Never Go in Against an Archaeologist
by Carrie

This whole thing was completely ridiculous. Utterly, fantastically absurd.

Nevertheless, Daniel nervously darted his eyes around the locker room, searching the shadows. He cautiously scouted every inch, all too conscious it could be anyone at the SGC, and he didn’t think any female enlisted or officer would hesitate to hide out in here. Catch their prey when most vulnerable. Modesty was not the concern; no, he could bare his flesh as easily as a stripper could. More the issue was potential pain that could be inflicted on areas of his anatomy he preferred to remain pain-free, thank you. He was making himself way too defenseless, but this was a necessary evil after Jack had spilled about a gallon of Diet Dr. Pepper on him in the commissary.

Wait a minute… it could be Jack. On his way to the showers, Nyan had cornered him with a translation problem that absolutely had to be resolved immediately. He’d stood in uncomfortable stickiness, corrected a mistake that was rookie if he thought about it, for a good number of minutes. Plenty of time for Jack to make it down here and lie in wait. That shifty, lowdown bastard. Of all the people on base, he would be unfortunate enough to have Jack be his stalker—there was only one person who’d be worse. He wondered how much it had taken to pay Nyan off. Unless Nyan had been Jack’s original target, had already been eliminated, and he’d been Nyan’s hit. The assassin took over the kill’s target until there was no one left.

Augh, this was so stupid! Why in the world the powers that be felt this was a morale building exercise was beyond him. Actually, the whole ‘game’ reeked of training practice. Only more juvenile. How would sneaking around and killing designated ‘targets’ with rubber bands while no one was around to visually witness the act even remotely build morale? If anything, it fostered subterfuge and deception. And stealth, Jack would remind him, strategy and cunning. Which ultimately all meant the same thing.

Whatever. If he wasn’t careful, what it would bring for him was a very real pain in the ass. Or somewhere even more crucial. Resigned to his fate, Daniel quickly stripped every article of clothing off, save the rubber band around his wrist. He had no idea why, but he really didn’t want to let himself get killed within the first few hours of the game. Actually, he’d like to stay alive long enough to make his own kill just to demonstrate to everyone he could, even if he didn’t approve or like it. With that thought in mind, he slipped the rubber band off to have at the ready and suddenly realized he’d made a severe tactical error. He hadn’t checked the showers, almost stupidly sauntered right on in. A six-foot and naked bull’s-eye.

Screw the shower. He’d just give himself a quick sponge bath, using the sink. Out here, he could keep an eye on the door and the entrance to the showers. How long would Jack linger back there before coming to eliminate him in the dressing area? Not very. Of course, Daniel reasoned he could be letting paranoia carry him away. He’d feel like an idiot if it turned out no one was back there at all. But at least he’d still be ‘alive’.

Snagging a washcloth, he doused it with a pump of hand soap and hot water. Spilling carelessly on the floor because his attention was elsewhere, Daniel carefully spread his feet around the puddle and locked his knees. He ran the cloth over his chest and down to his stomach, his flesh immediately breaking out in goose bumps as cool air floated over the wet surface. Gritting his teeth, he did a perfunctory sweep of his Diet Dr. Peppered groin—’wouldn’t you like to be a Pepper, too?’ he thought sardonically—and finished by brushing the now cool cloth on his thighs. He slapped the washrag into the basin of the sink, briskly walking back to his cubicle for a towel. His cubicle that was in directly line of the door, and so uncomfortably close to the showers exit. Sighing, he tucked himself into the cubby to gain at least some cover, eyes still dashing to and from each of his marks. He added Seriously Unhealthy to his list of negative adjectives describing this game. Before all was said and done, he was sure to have an ulcer.

Doing a half-assed job of drying off, Daniel struggled to pull his dark grey boxer briefs one handedly up his still damp thighs, the other hand poised and ready to fire his rubber band. Kill or be killed, he had to remind himself, and was sickened by it. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to stalk Janet down—trap her in her office or some dark corner somewhere to do what he had to do. It was far too sordid and reminiscent of…something he didn’t want to even think about, let alone give voice to. Bad. Bad comparison. He had to get his mind off of that, giving up his stakeout on the door to yank at the stubborn cotton still clinging mid thigh.

And this, of course, was the time Doctor Janet Fraiser chose to make an appearance. Bursting quickly but alarmingly quietly through the door, she startled Daniel despite his preparation and he jerked. Task unfinished, leaving him unbalanced, he fell and knew it was going to hurt like hell. He tried to curl up to protect his bared assets, failing miserably and sprawling flat out on the floor. Rocketing pain burned through his groin, essentially crippling him as he heard the small woman curse under her breath and rush to his side. Something about him not being the right person…she was here because of the game! The game. Cunning and strategy… Emitting a pitiable groan, Daniel turned his head to locate Janet and pinned earnest, pain-filled eyes up at her. She relaxed, eyes softening.

“Daniel! Are you okay? Did you hit your head, or just your…” she trailed off, blushing a charming shade of pink. Well, well, wasn’t that interesting? Janet had seen him naked about a thousand times and he’d never got that reaction before.

Game, set and match.

Without further ado, mostly because he didn’t know how long he could keep up the deception, Daniel twisted, aimed his rubber band and lobbed it gently at Janet’s left breast. And a fine breast it was, he thought with an internal smirk. The band hit with a thwap and plopped onto the floor. She gasped, mouth opening and closing in astonishment. The mirth he felt was wholly inappropriate, but also quite satisfying. Perhaps he had underestimated the value of this game.

“I’m good, Janet. But you’re dead.”

“You sneaky little…”

“Hey! Is it my fault you didn’t consider me a threat?” Daniel laughingly teased, quickly yanking his shorts on before she got any ideas. “Out of curiosity, who were you coming here for?”

“Teal’c,” she said with a smug grin.

Teal’c? That couldn’t be right. If there were a betting pool, Daniel would have put all his money on his Jaffa friend to be the victor of this game… but he didn’t understand how Janet thought the other man would be here. He searched her face with his best entreating look, gaining nothing but that same smug smile. Damn. She was dead, and she wasn’t talking.

“You’d better get dressed, Daniel. You’ve got a date with Teal’c. Actually, I’m impressed you haven’t already…” she solemnly trailed off, confusing him all the more. She stood up and gave him a little headshake. “As much as it would be nice to see you win this, I can’t say I have confidence. Though the trick you just played on me was top notch.”

“What trick?” he mumbled, remembered his throbbing…not pleasurably…member at last. Wincing, he reached a hand down to comically cradle his crotch. Janet giggled and blushed again, signaling all was forgiven. Then her words hit home. “Wait, what do you mean? Are Teal’c and I the only ones left now? Already?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything. I’ve already said too much.”

Janet’s head bobbed toward the showers and she nodded emphatically, mouthing ‘good luck’ before slipping him her rubber band and exiting the locker room. Sitting on the cold floor, Daniel was at a loss as to what to do. He had thought it bad when Jack was his suspected assassin. Teal’c must have eliminated Jack… augh, it didn’t matter. Obviously, by now Teal’c knew he wasn’t going in to the showers, which meant it was only a matter of time before the Jaffa made his move. Crap. Crap! He’d told himself he didn’t care about this stupid game, but now that he was this close to possibly winning the entire thing…well, he was only human. His competitive nature was something he hid very well, and when it surfaced? Look out, world. Look out, Teal’c.

Deciding Teal’c would never expect him to actually engage a battle, Daniel looked around the quiet room for anything that might aid his mission. The faucet dripped, a soggy sound floating over to him as the water plunked onto the soaked washcloth. And he saw it, the means to Teal’c's end—a dental mirror. Not exactly a mini-scope, but it could still be used to locate the other man’s hiding spot. Grinning to himself, he scrambled to his feet and started to jog over there. Two steps away, he heard slight rustling movement from behind him and knew his friend was about to pounce. His grin widened at Teal’c's uncharacteristic giveaway, knowing the other man was probably reprimanding himself for it. He readied both rubber bands, pivoting around to face his attacker.

And promptly slipped in the puddle of water he’d made earlier. His arms flailed as he tried to regain balance, but he knew it was a hopeless struggle. Both his legs chose to go a different direction, both losing contact with the floor at the same time and flipping him backward. Turning his head, he saw Teal’c's smug, victorious expression change to one of alarm. He let go of one of the rubber bands, vaguely seeing it fly across the room as his head smacked the metal-rimmed sink.

Then all he saw were stars, blue and purple and bright red ones, for a good minute, and then Teal’c's face loomed above him. His friend’s lips were moving, but no words reached his ears through the static still rumbling there. Frowning, Daniel tried to lift his head, getting about half a centimeter before he realized how foolish that was.

“Da..l…Jac…son…ou…not…mov…”

Words cutting in and out, Daniel found it didn’t matter if he heard them all. He understood all too well that Teal’c was telling him not to move. No argument, there. Through the haze of pain, though, his mind wondered if his off balance shot had struck its intended target. It would blow everything for him to just come out and ask, but what else was he going to do? Fumbling with his remaining weapon, he was about to attempt speech when sound came back fully.

“You may be concussed. I will locate Doctor Fraiser,” Teal’c grimly stated, frown cutting deep lines into his face as he started to move away.

“Wait, Teal’c…I have to know…” he weakly said.

“Yes, Daniel Jackson?”

“Did I get you?”

“You did not.”

“Did you…did you get me?”

There was a long pause, and Teal’c's eyes narrowed suspiciously, flitting from his face down toward his hands. Before the other man had a chance to reclaim his rubber band, Daniel flicked his and watched it snap directly on the gold tattoo on his friend’s forehead. Blinking, Teal’c reeled out of his sight for a moment and reappeared with a half amused, half perturbed light in his eyes.

“You truly are a shrewd warrior, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said, bowing his head in homage to Daniel’s supposed skills. “I had believed you to be injured. It was a ploy in which I should not have been ensnared, especially considering it is the identical one you used upon Doctor Fraiser. Were I still in the service of Apophis, I would be punished severely for such an error.”

He’d just won! Woo! Woo ho…woozy. Grayness started creeping around the edges of his vision as his stomach heaved slightly.

“Daniel Jackson? You are unwell.”

“Oh, you could say that,” he muttered, lifting a heavy arm to cup the back of his tender head. He pulled it away, examining it to find blood coloring his fingertips. “Wasn’t really a ploy, Teal’c.”

He heard Teal’c curse under his breath and fly out of the locker room, back only seconds later with Doctor Fraiser in tow. Jack and Sam followed, along with what Daniel swore was half the SGC personnel. Apparently, word had spread the game had come to the final two. Wincing, he realized he wasn’t as immodest as he had claimed to himself, extremely alert and aware he was clad only in underwear in front of a fairly large group of gawkers. Blushing, he carefully sat up and strategically placed his hands across his lap.

“Daniel, don’t you think you took this a little too far?” Jack chastised him, squatting down next to Janet, who was wreaking havoc on the back of his head and tutting. “I never would have guessed you had such a competitive streak.”

Behind the joking, Daniel heard the concern and managed a small grin for the crowd. Anxious glances spoke of more than worry for his condition; they wanted to know who was the victor. All he managed was a hiss of irritated pain as Janet continued to probe his wound. Payback for tricking her earlier? She winked at him before peeling back both his eyelids to check his pupils.

“Well, it seems Teal’c and I both fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well-known is this…” she announced, pausing to look around at the gathered crowd.

“Never go in against an archaeologist when death is on the line,” Teal’c added the punch line, to the delight of the now laughing and cheering audience.

Daniel smiled, inordinately proud of his accomplishment despite the headache. This game hadn’t been so stupid after all.

The End

No Such Thing
by Carrie

Fighting the equilibrium-disrupting effects of traveling via wormhole, Daniel Jackson stumbled down the wide stairs and prayed he wouldn’t fall. He really wasn’t in the mood for any ribbing from a certain Air Force colonel who delighted in inflicting just that at every opportunity. Fortune smiled on him, allowing him to reach the MALP and lean on the big machine for balance the same moment Jack O’Neill catapulted out of the event horizon, arms windmilling. He couldn’t help but smile as the colonel noisily landed on his butt several feet away.

“Amused? Glad I could entertain you, Jaundice Boy! Get over here and help me up,” Jack grumbled, beckoning with an impatient waggle of his fingers. “When we get back if Fraiser finds my bruised ass and determines extra prodding is necessary, she’ll lose another couple of inches off of her already miniature stature.”

“Threats generally don’t work unless you’re actually making them to the intended victim, Jack,” Daniel gently chastised, loping over to help SG1′s team leader to his feet. He sneaked glances at Captain Carter and Teal’c, who both appeared amused to witness Jack’s fall but wisely kept their mouths shut when he finally registered part of the remark. Glaring at the other man, he asked, “Jaundice Boy? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Take a look around. You figure it out.”

Automatically switching his focus from Jack to his surroundings, Daniel discovered the cause for the other man’s somewhat derogatory name. Quite frankly, he was embarrassed he’d missed it—the sky on P0X 413 was an intense saffron color, lending its odd color to everything. He vaguely remembered seeing the MALP’s video playback while still on Earth and thinking the strange coloration to be some technical glitch. Apparently that assumption was incorrect. While a little disorienting, the different visual environment was actually a softly nice change from the customary blue.

“What an unusual color,” Sam Carter spoke at last, pointing at a nearby grove. Daniel smiled as he noticed the yellow didn’t make her look sallow, instead giving her a warm, golden glow. Jack and Teal’c both looked sick in the strange light, and judging from the colonel’s earlier remark, so did he.

“Oh, yeah. Delightful as always. I’ll never tire of the tree filled worlds we always seem to come across. Conifers aplenty,” Jack sarcastically commented. Hands brushing butt, the colonel moved in front of him and stretched his arms wide. Daniel scowled at the back of his friend’s head as a hand nearly hit him on the nose. “Trees, trees, wonderful trees.”

“I wonder if what we’re seeing is just the sky playing off the natural color,” Sam continued, calmly ignoring Jack. She walked to Daniel’s side, where she paused. “Let’s go find out.”

“Does it matter what color they are?”

“No, I suppose not, sir. They are really beautiful, though.”

“Ah, yes. We may have just discovered the perfect world to farm Earth’s Christmas trees.”

“They’re a little big for that, Jack. Besides, they’re blue,” Daniel wryly remarked as he drew near the copse. Lifting a low-lying branch, he flipped it to emphasize his point. “The light spectrum must play on our optical nerves from a distance, but once we get close enough we can see the actual color.”

“Funky Dr. Seuss Christmas trees, then,” Jack amended with a quirk of his eyebrows. “For giants.”

“I do not believe I have ever encountered a species large enough to call giant, O’Neill. Though if such exists, they would be formidable opponents to the Goa’uld.”

“Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of a snaky man?”

“I wonder what other strange things we’ll run into? Sam, did the MALP give us any indications?” Daniel asked, wanting the colonel to get down to business. Joking was all well and good, but Jack could take it too far and too long sometimes. He wouldn’t mind making this mission as quick as possible, thinking back to the piles of work on his desk. Not that he preferred paperwork to missions, but every day he spent off world seemed to make the work back home multiply. He hoped General Hammond would seriously consider his latest request for additional personnel.

“Nothing but the usual plant life. This should be a milk run mission for us—no signs of sentient beings. Of course, the equipment has been wrong on that count before.” She swatted at a tree once before moving back to her supplies. “We have plenty of time for exploring whatever effects the sun has had on this planet.”

“In other words, Teal’c, Daniel and I are going to be bored.”

“Speak for yourself, Jack. I’m looking forward to giving Sam a hand,” Daniel instantly retorted, internally wincing at the half-truth. He didn’t mind helping her, but to say he was excited about it was a slight exaggeration.

“Thanks, Daniel,” Sam gratefully said, the annoyance with her CO barely masked on her face. Daniel shot her a smile, secretly pleased she was becoming more open and assertive with Jack.

“I, too, will endeavor to make myself useful, Captain Carter. It appears only you will be bored, O’Neill.”

“The UAV picked up some interesting readings—either coincidentally structured rock formations or possibly remnants of a past civilization,” Daniel added, shooting Jack a hopeful look. The trek was only five kilometers but he knew the other man wouldn’t be happy if they walked all that way for no good reason. “It showed some fairly significant rifts and fissures. I think at the very least there’s an extensive network of caves there.”

“Think? Shouldn’t the UAV be able to confirm this stuff?” Jack asked with a scowl at Sam.

“We’re still having a few problems with it, sir. Sergeant Siler is working on it as we speak,” she informed them, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders. “Budget cuts won’t allow for outside help. But I’m pretty sure the readings are accurate.”

“All right, then. We’ll walk as you gather, Carter. Kill as many birds as we can.”

“Why should we wish to kill birds, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, eyebrow tipping up.

Though Teal’c had made great strides in learning the ins and outs of vernacular English, there were still some phrases he had trouble understanding immediately. Nine out of ten times, the words came directly from Jack’s lips. Daniel sometimes felt he was a dog owner, carrying a shovel and plastic bag in preparation to clean up some of the colonel’s unintentional confusions, except explaining things to his Jaffa friend was actually something he enjoyed. He shot an exasperated look at Jack, picking up his pace to catch up with Teal’c.

“It’s just an expression, Teal’c, and it’s actually ‘kill two birds with one stone’. It means to take care of a couple of things at the same time,” Daniel quickly relayed, suddenly not feeling like delving into the complete history of that particular idiom.

“I see. We have a similar saying on Chulak.”

“Daniel, could you come here for a second?” Sam called.

He slowed and pivoted around to find the captain crouching next to a large shrub. He knew virtually nothing when it came to the botanical samples Sam gathered, but always found it interesting. Sometimes he had to remind himself that biology wasn’t her field either, and that working with her to figure out what they needed to was rewarding in its own right. Jack and Teal’c continued slowly as he backtracked a few steps. Taking several seconds to study the habitat more closely, he was surprised to find it didn’t seem too dissimilar to Earth’s. Reaching his friend’s side, Daniel leaned down to see what she was indicating.

It looked like an ordinary plant to him. If he had to guess, he’d say it was a Venus’s-flytrap. Giving her an inquisitive look, he suddenly realized how alive Sam looked. For a long time, Daniel had wondered if she would ever be able to pull herself from the depression that Goa’uld had left her in. More selfishly, he had wondered if he would ever stop seeing Sha’re’s face overlay his friend’s. He smiled with satisfaction as no ghost made its presence known—in the form of his lost wife or Sam’s all consuming depression.

“What’s up, Sam?”

“Well, you’d think the plant would snare its prey like the ones back home, right? When I was preparing to cut off a chute, it didn’t react at all. I admit it doesn’t sound like much, but it points to the fact that significant variations might be present in other things as well.”

Studying the plant more carefully, Daniel involuntarily shuddered at the somewhat notorious reputation it held—both a fascination and a terror. An overactive imagination could envision a giant sized plant devouring something quite larger than an insect. He tore his gaze away, snapping himself from his strange train of thought.

“So we bag one of them, take it back to the SGC and try and determine its purpose there?” Daniel asked rather than stated. He wasn’t quite sure why, but the thought of being around the plant gave him an uneasy feeling. Undoubtedly a case of one overactive imagination having its way with his mental condition. It was just a plant.

“Now, Daniel, you know the rules about that,” Jack’s voice sounded in his left ear, coming from nowhere. The older man’s shoulder brushed lightly across Daniel’s.

He jerked upright at both the unexpected intrusion into the conversation and into his personal space, the top of his head catching the colonel square on the jaw. Sam leapt to her feet in synchronization with him, her arms reflexively jerking slightly before she clutched at her MP5. Someone screeched, and he couldn’t totally rule himself out as the guilty party. God, he hoped it hadn’t been him! Spinning toward Jack, he forced the startled look off of his face and attempted to replace it with indignation. The other man moved several steps back, one hand cupping an abused jaw and chin.

“Ah, jeez. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Daniel disbelievingly stared at Jack. With eyes covered by sunglasses and face obscured by the brim of a baseball cap, he couldn’t tell if his friend was serious or not. What he could tell was the damage inflicted to his own skull, which was now throbbing harshly. He snapped, “How do you think I feel? It isn’t every day I run into a big slab of granite! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!”

“I can’t help it, Daniel. It’s what I was trained to do.” Jack shrugged, amusement now apparently overcoming any discomfort he’d experienced. The colonel looked from him to Sam and back again, smirk growing from barely discernable to downright cocky. “Like I was supposed to know you two were afraid of your own shadows?”

The words were a cold, feather-thin sliver slicing straight through his insides. Twitching slightly, Daniel swallowed and edged backward, jumping when he ran into Sam. She reached out a steadying hand, laying it on his forearm. Warmth seeped through his jacket sleeve and he latched onto the feeling, letting it pull him out of whatever had taken control. Looking into Sam’s concerned eyes, he managed a small smile.

“Give me a break, Jack. It was reaction—like when stupid people ask if you’re afraid of a man this big,” Daniel finally found his voice. Lifting his hand, he held his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart. “Then laugh hysterically when you blink because they shove their hand in your face.”

“Sure. That’s exactly what it was,” Jack drawled, shifting his sunglasses down to peer over them.

“O’Neill, had either Captain Carter or Daniel Jackson sabotaged you in such a manner, would you have not also reacted similarly?”

“Really, sir. Teal’c has a point. Scaring people like that is a little juve…” Sam trailed off, suddenly becoming flustered when Jack glowered at her. She bent back down to focus her attention on the plant specimen.

“Whatever. Can we just get going?”

Now apparently bored again, Jack impatiently shuffled his feet and looked the direction they had been traveling. Daniel realized any form of apology was unlikely and he sighed deeply. He couldn’t count the number of times SG1′s team leader had pulled the exact same joke, and he’d never once shown regret. Of course, Daniel had never gotten so disturbed by it before. Several minutes after the fact, his heart was still racing and palms still clammy. He really should cut back on his coffee intake. Before missions, anyway.

“Daniel, give me a hand?” Sam requested. She peered up at him, but her eyes frequently darted to check the surrounding, shadowy woods. His own nervousness increased with every furtive look she gave. “I don’t think we need an entire plant, just this chute here.”

“Hurry up, will ya? Teal’c and I are going to get started again. Don’t lag too far behind,” Jack ordered, shoving his sunglasses back up.

Without waiting for an answer, the colonel strode away, leaving him and Sam to complete their task. As he held the sample bag open for her to deposit the single branch she’d extracted, Daniel noticed her hands trembling slightly. He frowned at the plant as he sealed it into its container, still apprehensive about being around it. Shaking his head as if to dislodge the irrational feeling, he rose and followed Sam to catch up with his other two teammates.

Even though he’d managed to appear self-satisfied and smug at scaring Daniel and Carter, Jack hadn’t really taken any enjoyment from it. In fact, he felt slightly repentant about the whole thing—their intense reactions were so uncharacteristic he was actually concerned. Normally, each of his team members swallowed the majority of the reaction when he scared them, giving only the barest sign. Damn, Carter had yelped. He thought perhaps he could attribute some of her jitteryness to the whole Jolinar thing, but he noticed both of the scientists had stayed on edge for a lot longer than they should have.

“Teal’c, did Carter and Daniel seem kinda off to you just now?” he casually asked, swinging a hand at nearby branches and surreptitiously checking on the huddled figures behind them.

“Off?”

“You know…jumpy. Nervous. Off.”

“I did notice both appeared abnormally bothered by your attempt at amusement, O’Neill, thought I do not know if it signifies anything of importance.”

“Maybe I’m just getting better at scaring them.”

Teal’c's response to that was to arch one eyebrow to a height Jack had never seen it reach, which he interpreted as a sign of extreme skepticism. He tried not to take it personally, agreeing with the implied assessment. If anything, he’d been less careful than usual and hadn’t minded when Teal’c had purposely made no attempt at all to move with stealth. Daniel and Carter should have heard them coming. Well, Carter should have.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jack peered up into the golden sky. His teammates might find the atmosphere intriguing, but all it did for him was mask the obviousness of how this world was exactly like nearly every other planet they’d visited. While he typically complained about such a thing, and had just done so, he was actually not that irritated by the mundane, uninhabited world. He’d never admit this to anyone, but he was still having a hard time dealing with the too recent near loss of his 2IC. Too recent and too near, he’d argued with Hammond for more down time, as much for his own state of mind as Carter’s.

None of them had been up to par since the body-snatching incident—Carter depressed and non-responsive, Daniel nervous and twitchy, Teal’c…well, Teal’c just looked more dour than usual, which couldn’t be a good thing. As for himself, he hadn’t slept more than three hours each night for a solid week, the sight of Carter’s inanimate body haunting him. Long story short, if he and his team absolutely had to be off world, he’d rather be bored than running from Goa’uld or indigenous life. He’d still prefer to be home, though.

He covertly sneaked another glance back at Daniel and Carter, who had finished collecting their plant and were walking slowly toward him and Teal’c. Smiling, Jack saw them chatting a little and was happy to see his captain was getting back to normal. Or as back to normal as one could get after being possessed by a snake. That thought brought a frown as he scanned the man next to her, disconcerted by what that meant for Sha’re. And Skaara. He had a suspicion that was what was causing the archaeologist’s nervousness, though neither of them had approached the subject.

“O’Neill, it is not necessary for you to disguise your actions. Neither Captain Carter nor Daniel Jackson are aware of us at the moment.”

Startled, Jack jerked his head to gawk at the bigger man. Teal’c was very obviously not looking anywhere but straight ahead, ever vigilant. How the hell… Chalking it up to Jaffa super-sense, he muttered, “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“I meant only that they are focused on completing their specimen gathering. Is it not a good thing that they clearly have no desire to seek retribution for your prank?”

Teal’c's tone was so even, Jack couldn’t be sure if the Jaffa was teasing. To use the word humor when referring to his friend was almost oxymoronic, and that was a generous way of putting it. Still, the longer he was around Teal’c, the more he got a feeling that the other man both understood more than he let on and held a very subtle wit. He rolled to a stop, glaring just in case the remark had been intended as a kind of slight.

“Can we hurry it up, kids?” he yelled, scowling when his shouts caused the scientists to start. “I’d like to make this trip in one day. Gotta catch the game.”

“What game?” Daniel asked as he and Carter caught up. Despite the casual manner both of his teammates exhibited, Jack could feel their tension.

“Oh, you know. The BIG game,” he nonchalantly said. There was no game, he just suddenly really didn’t want to be on lovely P0X 413 anymore. “Why? Want to come over and watch it with me?”

Daniel blessed him with a dry smile, mouth opening to make an undoubtedly witty retort. Taking a step back as a loud choking snort resonated in his ears, Jack gaped at the younger man, who gaped right back.

“Ahem. Sorry, I must have swallowed a bug or something,” Carter chirped, rushing by them to stand next to Teal’c.

Jack grinned at the ease in which they seemed to flow back into a light-hearted banter session. He felt infinitely more relaxed just knowing Carter was finally—officially in his book—on the way to recovery. This was the longest time she’d held a spark of life in weeks, and she showed no signs of withdrawing from them again. Aside from his ill thought out scare, she was being a typical astrophysicist. Or whatever. In the past year, she’d taken on so many different scientific tasks he wasn’t sure what the heck to call her.

“Did the yellow light have an effect on its taste?”

“Sir?”

“Never mind. Let’s book, shall we? I was serious about heading home early. I can only take so much tediousness.”

“Can’t guarantee that, sir,” Carter cheekily said, surveying the landscape. “Daniel and I agree that we need to examine everything very closely. That plant showed no physical dissimilarity to a Venus’s flytrap back home—it was only after minute study that I discovered the separating factor.”

With that, she exchanged a long look with Daniel. The archaeologist nodded slowly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. Leaning slightly toward him, the younger man lifted a hand, index finger pointed, and opened his mouth. He just stared at Jack for a moment, then sauntered after Carter. Rolling his eyes, Jack hung his head low and moved a step to draw up next to Teal’c.

“It appears I was incorrect about Captain Carter and Daniel Jackson’s need for reprisal, O’Neill.”

“Yeeah, got that,” he muttered. It was going to be a long walk. He couldn’t stop the weary sigh from escaping as he saw Daniel whipping out his rubber gloves, an intent look upon his face. “So got that.”

Disinterestedly taking up the path toward the rocky ruins…or the ruined rocks…Jack fiddled with his sunglasses. He had to admit it was pretty damn cool how everything seemed so much more vivid and sharper due to the yellow light. Unfortunately, that small amusement wasn’t going to get him through the mission any more quickly.

“Carter, Daniel. Teal’c and I are going to go at a non-scientific pace and scout out whatever it is at the end of the yellow brick road,” Jack announced. His 2IC’s face went slack for a moment, eyes widening, and then returned to a neutral expression. The little alarm buzzer in his head started to go off again.

“Uh, I object.”

“You object? What is this, People’s Court?” he scoffed, keeping an eye on Carter as Daniel moved in front of him.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go to the ruins? I mean, hopefully there’s something there in need of translating and who are you going to get to do that if not me? And it’ll save you precious time.”

“All right, then. Teal’c, you and Daniel scout up ahead. I’ll hang out with Carter.”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow, which Jack interpreted as disbelieving. He was getting good at figuring out that particular facial expression of his Jaffa friend. And, yes, he knew he was condemning himself to sheer, utter, complete, undeniable, total torture but he just had a feeling he should stay close to Carter. He nodded and impatiently waved them off, turning to find the captain already kneeling and digging some moss from a tree.

“Do we really have to collect all of this stuff?”

“It could prove important, sir.”

Again glancing up at the sky, he noted with resignation that the sun already looked too low to make it back home today, no matter how quickly they walked. He rested his back on a tree, watching Carter as she worked busily but unhurriedly. Even if he had asked for it, Jack was feeling the agony of her and Daniel’s chosen revenge. It burned him that his buttons were so easily pushed.

“Important for what?” he asked at last, hoping at least some conversation would help.

“Well, as I’ve said before, plant life accounts for a huge portion of the world’s medicinal resources. If something here has developed just slightly differently than at home, it could make a normally useless item invaluable.”

“Oh.”

“Sir, I wouldn’t be collecting these things if I didn’t believe that.”

“Okay.”

“I’d rather be back at the SGC too. I really would,” she said pensively, darting her eyes to the dense forest.

That admission alone was enough to make him wish with everything he had that Daniel didn’t find anything of interest. On a good day, he was less than excited about the archaeological thrills and wonders richly abounding the galaxy and frequently let his stance be known. All of a sudden, digging in the dirt with Carter sounded like a mighty fine idea. He pushed off from his tree, joining the captain with an outstretched hand.

“Let’s see if we can speed this up, shall we?”

“Sir?” Sam stuttered, a little taken aback by the colonel’s intention of lending aid. Not once in their time as a team had he offered to give her or Daniel any type of help when it came to the scientific aspects of missions. Not that he was lazy; she thought perhaps it had more to do with his stubborn belief that science was a waste of time.

“What, I can’t be your lab assistant?”

“Of course you can, sir. It’s just you’ve ne…never mind. Here, can you hold this open for me?” she asked, tossing him a vial.

Getting right to work, she found herself now motivated to take care of the least glamorous aspect of each mission, uneasy by her CO’s apparently benevolent participation. More than that, though, she was nervous at his insistence on getting back home. There was no deadline, no danger, but ever since the colonel had scared her and Daniel earlier, she’d been on edge. It was silly, but she felt as though she was being watched.

Sam sighed, rubbing her forehead with gloved fingers. It was not unlike the sensation she’d had ever since Jolinar, of both being outside her body and being probed mentally. Even if the Goa…Tok’ra was gone, its effects to her psyche were still yielding their power. That was probably it. Residual eeriness from that event. She deposited the moss sample into the bag the colonel was patiently holding for her.

“I find it really hard to believe the cure for the common cold is going to be in this stuff,” he grumbled, shying away from the fuzzy plant.

Make that impatiently. Giving her CO her best exasperated look, Sam mentally shook her head. The colonel’s decision to stay with her wasn’t based on any military reasoning whatsoever. It was a lose-lose situation for him as far as she could figure: bored out of his mind with Daniel or bored out of his mind with her. As much as she might like to think the choice had been made because he enjoyed spending time with her, Sam thought it more likely that he stayed for the same reason he’d been watching her every move since they set foot on P0X 413.

“But what if it is, sir?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve been over this. Look, even at a normal pace, it’s going to be dusk by the time we make it to Daniel’s rocks. What are the chances I can convince you to just head right there? Once we determine that’s a bust, we’ll mosey on back to the Stargate tomorrow and collect until your pack is full of fascinating things. Hell, until all our packs are full.”

He had a point; the sun was descending quickly and taking with it the already mellowed light. Her and Daniel’s plan had worked already anyway. No big game for the colonel tonight. Smirking, Sam looked up and was greeted by a flash of movement beyond her CO’s left shoulder. She stiffened, face freezing as she reached for her MP5. The colonel was already rolling, weapon in hand. Ducking behind the tree, she felt her heart racing, her palms sweating. She was right—something had been watching her.

“Carter? What is it?”

“I saw movement behind you and to the left, sir. I don’t think it was very big, but there may have been more than one,” she hissed. More than one what? And why was she so freaked out?

“Okay. Stay put. I’ll see if I can flush it out toward you,” he whispered, stealthily slithering into the woods.

Even as he left, Sam wanted to call him back. She didn’t want to be all alone out here, where the trees seemed to have eyes. She sure as hell didn’t want whatever was out there to come charging at her. Gasping breaths as quietly as she could, she clenched her eyes shut and leaned into the tree bark so hard it was probably leaving an imprint on her skin. She didn’t care. All alone, she was all alone with whatever was out there, and even if she didn’t know what it was, she knew she was scared of it.

Exhaling shakily, she tried to calm herself. Air Force captains did not have nervous breakdowns in the middle of missions. She’d survived Desert Storm; she could handle a little romp in the woods. No way could she let her CO see how close she was to losing it, not after the past month. She was more than ready to move beyond it—Jolinar would not ruin her life posthumously. He wouldn’t have wanted…what the hell? How did she know what a Goa…Tok’ra , it was a Tok’ra…would have wanted?

Sam snapped her eyes open again, confused by the jumbled emotions now flickering through her. Part of her screamed in terror while another previously unknown part of her sought rationality of thought. It wasn’t the battle between woman and soldier, at least not in the sense she knew. No, this was different, but she just didn’t know how.

Everything was so different now, and it would never be the same. Sam saw how everyone at the SGC looked at her—expressions filled with fear and relief and distaste in equal measure. Even her teammates gave her the kid glove treatment, afraid she would break or something. She didn’t blame them for their concern, but she found it was inhibiting her from moving on. All her life, whenever bad things happened, she just forged ahead and those around her permitted it. When her mother died, her dad hadn’t known how to deal with his own guilt, let alone her blaming him. He’d receded from her and Mark for a long time. It had been easy to get on with life without him around as a constant reminder.

Only she realized that that hadn’t necessarily been a good thing. She and Mark were not exactly on speaking terms. And her father? Well, she would describe their relationship as tentative, at best. She may not be able to fix what was already wrong in her life, but she could prevent the same thing from happening again. When the colonel looked at her as thought she was going to vanish off the face of the planet, she’d make sure he knew that wasn’t going to happen. If Daniel started nervously rambling around her, she’d talk him down and make him comfortable with her. Teal’c…Teal’c would be more difficult to diagnose, but she’d watch for any signs of uncharacteristically apparent concern and ease it.

Calmed a little by her thoughts, Sam straightened her shoulders and felt the tension in her muscles relax. She was fine, safe with her teammates. If the threat in the woods was great, they would be there for her and she for them. Confidently holding up her weapon, ready to fire upon whatever the colonel sent her way, she smiled slightly. The irrational fear subsided to a tolerable level, but refused to disappear completely.

“There’s nothing out there, definitely not lions and tigers and bears.”

The whispered voice in her ear was like gunfire, explosively destroying the shield of comfort she’d just attained. Leaping away from the tree, Sam instinctively brought her gun around with her and aimed it at the intruder.

“Shit, Carter! It’s just me! Don’t shoot,” the colonel quickly said, hands raised cautiously in the air. He stared at her with wary eyes, slowly rising from his crouched position. Sam dropped the MP5 as if it were hot. “You okay there?”

Damnit, there it was—the look. Heart still pounding, she raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. So much for her assuring him she was fine. At least she hadn’t screeched that time. Lions and tigers and bears, the colonel’s words repeated in her head, bringing with them a strange feeling of panic. Mark used to taunt her with that phrase when she was a little girl, delighted in the terror it created. It had been years since she’d thought about this, why was it suddenly popping up again?

Feeling a light touch to her shoulder, Sam jumped and opened her eyes to find her CO standing directly before her. She swallowed and gave him a smile she intended as reassuring, but given his returning grimace, she imagined she’d fallen short of the mark. She tried again, gladdened to see his shoulders loosen a bit. An awkward look began to appear across his features as they stood in relative silence, her rapid breathing filling the air. For a moment, she was afraid he was going to ask her to explain her reaction and she frankly had no idea what to say. But then his expression changed to his ‘let’s get down to business’ one.

“Are you sure you saw something? There weren’t even any tracks for me to follow,” the colonel said at last, moving back a step. “In fact, I’m noticing there’s a distinct lack of any animal life on this rock.”

Pulled out of the lingering shock by his no-nonsense observation, Sam realized he was right. The only sound was the rustling of leaves in the breeze. No birds. No bugs. No nothing. Scrunching her eyebrows, she looked at him thoughtfully, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her unease. “You’re right, sir. That might explain why the plant didn’t react to my attempts to engage it—there’s nothing to foster that instinct.”

“Plants have instinct?”

“Function,” she revised. With each word she uttered, she began to feel better and she saw her CO also returning to his usual relaxed but ready stance. “I wonder what happened to the inhabitants of the planet? Human and animal. I mean, the ruins suggest there was a civilization here at one point.”

“Rumored ruins. I still have my doubts about them,” the colonel inserted quickly, holding up a finger as she opened her mouth to protest on Daniel’s behalf. “Speaking of, now that we know there’s nothing bad lurking out here, let’s catch up to the others. Sun’s way too low now, and even if there’s no threat I don’t like to hike in the dark.”

She looked to the sky, a bit surprised to see the sun had descended so low its view was blocked by the trees. She hadn’t realized how long the colonel had been separated from her; he must have searched very thoroughly. Embarrassed that it appeared to have been her overactive imagination, Sam was about to offer an apology when she caught the concerned look flashing again on her CO’s face.

“Just let me gather my things,” she mumbled, disconcerted she was failing to hide her emotions. “I’ll be quick.”

“Do that, Carter,” he said, not offering his help this time. He kept his eyes alert to their surroundings, despite his earlier proclamation that SG1 appeared to be the only sentient forms on the planet. “Do that.”

Gathering her supplies quickly, Sam wasn’t reassured by the colonel’s guard. It made her even edgier, if that were possible. She swallowed the lump in her throat and blindly shoved everything into her pack. Walking back to her CO’s side, she noticed he hadn’t removed his sunglasses in the dim light. She could see her pale face staring back at her in their reflective lenses, and she saw how…young and small she looked. That would explain his behavior.

“Let’s go.”

Sam followed him, eyes pinned on his back. A few feet later, she suddenly realized the colonel hadn’t used humor at all to diffuse her tension and fright. With a shudder, she could only imagine what that meant.

Carefully watching Daniel Jackson’s face as they moved from O’Neill and Captain Carter, Teal’c saw the young man still struggling to control his emotions. There was an underlying presence of disquiet that remained well beyond the time it should have faded, and it was not solely the archaeologist who displayed it. With a frown, he turned his head to study Captain Carter’s fluttering hands begin gathering samples again.

O’Neill was correct, though Teal’c did not know exactly what was causing the fearful reactions. Glancing to his left and right, he wondered if perhaps the lack of life was somehow impacting his human friends. None of them had mentioned the strange quiet that enveloped P0X 413, almost as though they had not noticed it. Above all else, these things caused him alarm—it was not natural for a world to be teeming with plant life and no animal, and it was not natural that his companions had not perceived the phenomenon immediately. He did not know why he had not made mention of it earlier.

“Teal’c, I just noticed this,” Daniel Jackson burst, words tripping from his mouth rapidly. He turned his full attention on his teammate, not surprised to find arms flying in the air. “It’s really quiet here, isn’t it? Very odd, I would have thought there would have been birds or something. There’s nothing here, is there? Can you tell?”

Teal’c knew the younger man was asking if he could sense something the others may not, and he wished he had a different answer. Tilting his head, he replied, “Your assessment is correct, Daniel Jackson. There does not appear to be animal life on P0X 413.”

Stopping, the archaeologist looked around as if searching for something, his brow creasing. “That doesn’t make any sense. There has to have been life at one time or there wouldn’t be ruins. Unless Jack is right and they’re just rocks. We haven’t come across any signs—no bones or remains. This could be a complete waste of time.”

“I have seen many strange things, Daniel Jackson. While it may not be apparent, we should not rule out the possibility this world once housed life.”

“Maybe, but why doesn’t it anymore? The plants are thriving, why didn’t animal life?” Daniel Jackson mused.

“Perhaps the answer lies in the ruins we seek to reach,” he suggested, beginning to walk again.

The light was weakening, the shadows darkening around them. He could see the trees thinning ahead, and knew they would soon be out of the woods. It was abnormal for the Stargate to be situated in such a manner—surrounded by dense forest. If this world was once a Goa’uld planet, it had not been so in quite some time. It gave him a small degree of comfort to know his friends would not have to be worried about that threat.

“Teal’c, wait for me!” Daniel Jackson called, jogging to catch up. Teal’c did not realize he had increased his speed, leaving the younger man trailing behind. “Oh, we’re almost out.”

Hearing relief in the tone, Teal’c turned to find the archaeologist’s gaze once again surveying the woods apprehensively. Though he still could not ascertain the reason, he was certain Daniel Jackson found something alarming in the harmless forest. The inexplicable behaviors he had been exhibiting were indeed…off, as O’Neill had described. Not having a basis from which he could aid his friend, Teal’c thought it the best he could do to escort him into the clearing, and subsequently away from that which disturbed him.

“Indeed. The UAV revealed a barren area spanning three kilometers around the stone structure.”

“Right, I remember that now. That’ll make the walk much faster, don’t you agree? Although by the looks of it, the grasses here have grown pretty high,” the archaeologist rambled.

Following Daniel Jackson’s pointing finger, he saw the grass encroaching into the treeline was quite tall. It neared shoulder length, and appeared rough and thick. Teal’c hoped it became less so as they progressed, or his friend would have considerable difficulty traversing through it. The younger man pushed by him, moving out of the woods and onto the savanna.

“No, look, it’s only up to my knees out here,” Daniel Jackson announced as he walked farther onto the plain, turning around to wave Teal’c toward him.

As he had predicted, Daniel Jackson’s entire countenance changed once away from the trees. Teal’c wondered if he should inquire about the change in body language, but reconsidered when he realized that might provoke an unfavorable reaction, possibly even bring the return of tension. Dismissing the idea, he strode up next to the scientist. An unsettling feeling edged around the corners of his mind, unnamable but potent.

The past several weeks had held much of which to be concerned. While the Tok’ra had possessed Captain Carter, Teal’c had stoically told O’Neill to look at her and not see a friend. However, upon visiting the young woman, he had found himself unable to set up the barriers necessary to follow through with his own advice; had seen his teammate and friend, imagined her suffering. Now it was the opposite—he could not see her for her, only the image of her posture and demeanor while Jolinar resided within her. Even knowing the Tok’ra to be good, he could not separate that fact to make what had happened to his friend acceptable. It was unfair, both to Captain Carter and to the mysterious renegade Goa’uld, and he was unaccustomed to the sensation of being unable to control his emotions.

Teal’c had been forcing himself to frequently look upon the captain in the hope he could overcome his difficulty. Unfortunately, his practice had been observed by her on more than on occasion, and had served only to cause her discomfort. He did not know how to explain to Captain Carter the reasoning behind his actions, and had subsequently attempted to avoid such a confrontation, a tactic employed by Daniel Jackson. It provided no relief.

“Let us continue, then, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said, pulling himself from his sobering thoughts. “I am certain Colonel O’Neill and Captain Carter are not far behind us. They will not be able to gather samples in the fading light.”

“Teal’c, do you think…”Daniel Jackson said, pausing before completing his inquiry. He darted a look around them as they treaded through the field, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Do you feel strange?”

“I do not,” Teal’c instantly responded as his infant Goa’uld suddenly swirled nauseatingly in its pouch. Unconsciously lifting his free hand to rest on his abdomen, he frowned. “What has prompted your inquiry, Daniel Jackson?”

There was a long pause, as if the younger man was debating how to reply. Teal’c's fist clenched on his staff weapon as he recognized he had spoken a mistruth to his friend. Strange would be an accurate word to describe the sensations running in him. Sighing deeply, Daniel Jackson ran a hand through his long locks, and then let his arms swing loosely at his sides. Teal’c thought to amend his assertion but could not explain the feeling he was experiencing, nor pinpoint a cause for it. When he was a child, it had been ingrained in him that speech was to be used only if there was important information to reveal, a habit he was quickly losing among the Tau’ri. On this occasion he took heed to his upbringing, telling himself he did not want to cause further agitation to his friends.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. As much as I was looking forward to discovering signs of civilization here, now I just want to get it over with. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

The statement may not have held any concrete evidence to support it but Teal’c found it suited his own thoughts perfectly. He bowed his head once to demonstrate his understanding, remaining silent. Once again increasing his pace, Daniel Jackson matched him stride for stride. The journey was uneventful, the land as barren of landmarks or varying terrain as the UAV had indicated. He found the younger man’s anxiety seemed to dissipate somewhat with each footfall away from the forest, while his own seemed to increase.

Neither man spoke for the remainder of the jaunt, and Teal’c was grateful for the quietude. His mind fought between focusing on completing the mission and attempting to squelch the uneasiness roiling through him. He was pleased when their destination came into sight, rocks standing alone on the horizon and shadowing in the deep yellow sunset. To his surprise, Daniel Jackson slowed as they approached. It was uncharacteristic for the archaeologist not to rush forward to begin a cursory exploration.

“Daniel Jackson, we have arrived,” he declared unnecessarily, perturbed when the other man flinched and then squared his shoulders as if bolstering himself.

“Yeah, let’s go. If this turns out to be nothing, we can radio Jack and Sam not to come and head back tonight after all,” Daniel Jackson breathed, voice sounding dull and unenthusiastic. Teal’c frowned again at the strange reoccurrence of apprehension in his young friend. As if influenced by the archaeologist’s mood, his trepidation soared.

Daniel Jackson looked terrified at the prospect of returning through the woods, yet there was underlying hope coloring his tone as well. Teal’c understood that hope as desire to return to Earth, an idea not adverse to him either. There may be great botanical and medicinal resources here, and possibly cultural findings but he did not care about such things. Normal tolerance of the secondary objectives to each missions disappeared as he selfishly hoped to make this trip a brief one. His skin prickled with gooseflesh as he followed Daniel Jackson into the ruins.

Trying to push his unfounded misgivings aside, Daniel ventured closer to the rocks. Despite wanting to get home, he couldn’t stop the disappointment creeping into him. Rocks. Lots and lots of rocks. The grass gave way to stone almost completely, making the site unrewardingly sterile, with no signs of past or present life. There was no reason to stay here. Reaching for his radio, he noticed how big some of the boulders were, how elongated their shadows were becoming with the sun’s setting rays. Extending toward him from every direction, they seemed to inch closer with each passing second.

“There is no life here,” Teal’c intoned from behind.

As when Jack had sneaked up on him and Sam, Daniel launched into the air and spun toward the voice. Hoping Teal’c hadn’t noticed, he drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Jack was right.”

“However, I have discovered something that bears investigation,” the Jaffa continued, giving him a tiny glance complete with inclining eyebrow.

“Really? What? When?” he asked, curiosity teasing despite his nervousness. He was getting control of his breathing and relaxing a little. Nothing to be afraid of. Teal’c was here.

“We have been here for several minutes, Daniel Jackson. I immediately set out to check the perimeter of the area, and in doing so located a small pond, which I believe is not naturally occurring. Also, I have found an entrance to an underground tunnel.”

Several minutes? God, how long had he been standing there? Sneaking a quick look at his Jaffa friend to try and get some indication, he realized the move was futile. If Teal’c noticed his preoccupation, it didn’t look like he was going to mention anything. Daniel wished he could identify what was making his nerves resonate so badly; the latest news of possible sentient life vanishing from the face of this world certainly didn’t help.

He didn’t know which was worse—to find no traces of life or to find evidence that there once had been. It was definitely ominous to think about what might have caused a populated world to become quite the opposite. In the twilight, the yellow sky had deepened to a mustard color and it stained Teal’c's features surreally. Daniel looked away from the now gruesome visage, unable to find strength or relief from it as he usually did.

“Where?” he asked at last, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“We must cross to the other side of the rocks. The pond is located in a small dell, the tunnel hidden among the stones there,” Teal’c said, his expression indecipherably blank.

Scanning the distance, Daniel unhappily noted the entire path was littered by darkness and shadow. He nodded, ushering Teal’c to lead the way with a sweep of his arm. As his friend began moving, he reconsidered. It’d be safer for him to be in front, with the other man behind him to safeguard him from the shadows getting him.

Shadows getting him? What was he thinking? He wasn’t a little kid anymore. But the thought of voluntarily walking into the shade-infested area was enough to chill the blood in his veins. Teal’c was already a good ten paces in front of him, fearing neither man nor beast as usual. Bracing and calmly reminding himself that there was no such thing as ghosts, Daniel briskly walked to his friend’s side. He had to concentrate on something other than absurd, vague feelings that were probably due to something as ordinary as lack of sleep. Too many fitful nights disturbed by thoughts of Sha’re and Sam and Jolinar and…this wasn’t helping. Unfortunately thinking about what might have happened to the inhabitants of P0X 413 wasn’t much of an alternative, even for an archaeologist.

He couldn’t think of a thing to prevent the feeling of claustrophobia as the night closed in all around him. Daniel rotated between warily watching the surrounding darkness and keeping track of Teal’c, protecting against…something. His friend walked purposefully by his side, never faltering in gait, and he managed to look beyond the sick, yellowed tinged countenance to find a scrap of his own backbone from it. If anything were wrong here, the Jaffa on his left would definitely make him aware of it. Reassured by that simple fact, he loosened up by degrees until he was almost at ease.

The moment he looked down into the glen and saw the pond, Daniel knew Teal’c's assessment had been correct. Perfectly circular, the small expanse of water dully reflected the departing sun’s rays and was absolutely still. Upon first glance, he thought it looked like a cesspool, dead and rotting, but then he took in the plant life surrounding it. It was as abundant and flourishing here as the rest of the planet. The incongruity of this evidence of civilization combined with the complete lack thereof anywhere else had him puzzled. If the tunnels did turn out to be manmade, he had to wonder why the indigenous people built a pool on the surface when they lived underground.

“I think you’re right, Teal’c, this is definitely manmade. I just can’t think of a good explanation for it. Maybe when we check out the tunnel I’ll find a clue about the civilization,” Daniel said, a little startled at the loudness of his own voice. He waited for the other man to give some sort of response, but got none. “Teal’c?”

Pulling his eyes away from the water, he glanced over to his friend. Teal’c stood slightly hunched over, right hand fisted over his abdomen and face displaying shock or distress. Daniel felt a corresponding wave of cold splash over him at the sight of Teal’c in such an emotionally unguarded state; there were so few times he could recall where his friend allowed any reaction broadcast for everyone to see. None of them overwhelmingly positive instances. Bad. This was so not good.

“Teal’c?” he whispered, jerking a hand up and placing it on the other man’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Half expecting it, Daniel quickly jumped back as Teal’c came to life in volatile motion, arms swinging to raise his staff weapon. He instantly put his hands out in front of him, hoping the Jaffa would recognize it as a sign of his non-aggression. Furious and fearful brown eyes glared over to him, clearly not fully recognizing him.

“Teal’c? It’s me, it’s me,” Daniel calmly said, lowering his hands to his sides and inching a step closer as Teal’c's grip on the staff slackened. He slid the weapon away, all the more troubled when the action was tolerated. “You okay?”

“Daniel Jackson?”

“Yeah.”

“I was experiencing a very unusual sensation; it has passed,” Teal’c said, voice and face still ghosted. “It was not my intention to harm you.”

“I know that, Teal’c,” he assured his friend, strangely and unsuitably comforted to know that Teal’c was feeling off as well. “Feel like talking about it?”

“I do not.”

“Didn’t think so,” Daniel conceded, not altogether happy to let the issue slide. Something had seriously spooked Teal’c, and anything that could do that had to be terrible. He couldn’t ignore what had just happened, or his own unfading agitation. “Teal’c, when I asked you before if you felt strange…”

“I did not reveal the entire truth, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c unexpectedly interrupted. “The longer we remain on P0X 413, the more the feeling of unease magnifies within me. I did not make mention of it earlier because I cannot give cause for such a reaction.”

Taken aback by the admission, Daniel stared at the man in front of him. He could understand himself, Sam or even Jack not calling attention to the bizarre atmosphere seeming to sheath the planet—hell, he had withheld from the rest of them—but Teal’c? Never. If there was only a remote possibility of danger, Teal’c always made it known to the rest of them. It was an invaluable tool of sorts, a gauge to assess every situation. Now he was faced with the fact that the Jaffa didn’t say a word about his own sense of foreboding and had made no mention of the lack of life on P0X 413, which he certainly must have noticed right away. Daniel continued watching Teal’c carefully avoid direct eye contact with him, jaw muscles working nonstop.

“But you know the cause now, right?”

“I do not,” Teal’c hastily shot back. “This is not relevant, Daniel Jackson. We should examine the tunnel entrance before the light completely dissipates.”

Firmly reclaiming his weapon, Teal’c pivoted and began walking away. Daniel knew he’d just been lied to and dismissed. The light was already too far gone to be of any use; his friend was simply avoiding him and the uncomfortable discussion. Suddenly alone in the gloaming, his own fear began creeping back like a shadow. Dj vu. Like Teal’c, he hadn’t been able to find a cause for the feeling, but now he thought he could identify a certain familiarity about it as though he’d already experienced it and moved on. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Teal’c, I think it can wait until morning,” he called, relieved when the other man stopped only a few feet away. “Let’s just get camp ready. Jack’s probably irritable and hungry—we can head off that monster before he makes his full presence known.”

“Perhaps you are correct.”

“We can go back ov…” Daniel faltered when he thought about crossing the dark, rocky terrain again. Swallowing, he continued, “Over to the grass where Jack and Sam will see us right away.”

“There is more vegetation over here. We should first gather material enough to sustain a fire,” Teal’c suggested, sounding much more like his usual pragmatic self.

Daniel gave a slight nod, reassured at the return to normalcy. Fire was a good idea. A warm, bright fire. He joined Teal’c and they made their way closer to the thick brush growing on one side of the pond, searching for suitable kindling. It was becoming nearly impossible to see more than a few feet in front, and he started groping for his flashlight.

“Teal’c? Daniel? Come in.”

Jack’s voice blared over their radios, obliterating the silence they had fallen into. Daniel’s hand jerked and missed the flashlight completely. Now thankful for the darkness’ ability to mask his physical reaction, he corrected his hand’s path and latched onto the flashlight. With a flick, the area was bathed with brightness.

“We are here, O’Neill.”

“Yeah, I see that now. Whatcha doing?”

“Gathering wood for a fire, Jack. We’ll be there in a bit,” Daniel said into his radio, turning to locate his other two teammates. He could see flashlights bobbing toward them. Shrugging his shoulders, he mumbled, “Or you could just come here.”

“This is also a good area for an encampment, Daniel Jackson. The proximity to the water is favorable.”

Daniel said nothing, just looked back down to the ground for branches. He didn’t particularly care where they slept and his sarcasm had come from frazzled nerves. Whether they stayed by the water or not, he had a sneaking suspicion his night would include anything and everything but sleep.

Sparing a sidelong glance to his walking partner, Jack could see how pale her face was despite the poor lighting. Carter had been very anxious to leave the woods, and had gathered her scientific doo-hickeys in record time. She’d seemed to calm somewhat during their brisk hike across the flatland. Still, though, there was an aura of twang about her entire person; the grip she had on her MP5 left her knuckles white. He had no idea what to think of it, but found himself suffering a similar feeling as a result of constant association.

Arriving at the location where he’d expected to find Daniel and Teal’c present only to find them absent hadn’t helped matters at all. Carter had instantly assumed there was life on the planet after all and the rest of the team had been ‘gotten’ by it. He’d choked back a snigger at the sheer childishness of her conclusion before remembering that if the captain guessed at something it usually turned out to be accurate. Fighting the urge to turn over every rock in a search, Jack had thumbed his radio and called for his team members with well-disguised apprehension that turned into embarrassingly obvious relief when an answering flashlight suddenly illuminated and Teal’c's voice answered.

Guided by dual beams of yellowed light, he and Carter jogged over to join their teammates. As they approached, Jack thought he saw a glint of another light sparkling in the blackness. It took him only seconds to identify it as a small lake or pond, and only seconds after that to be overcome by an intense sensation of dread. He slowed his pace, allowing his 2IC to get a couple of feet in front of him as he tried to contain on the emotions inflicting him. He’d bet a million dollars Carter had been feeling something very familiar to this for hours now…

“Hey, Sam,” Daniel’s soft voice floated over to him, and Jack was finally able to tear his eyes off of the rippling, menacing water.

He brought himself up with the rest of his team, gathered around the beginnings of a fire pit. Teal’c was crouched down, arranging the tinder with Jaffa-y meticulousness while Daniel swiftly moved to Carter’s side. The archaeologist’s hands skated all over the place, messing first with his hair, then glasses and finally rubbing down the front of his thighs. Jack ignored the scientists and aligned himself with Teal’c in creating the perfect habitat for fire, plagued by a need to do something to occupy his mind. Not that flipping sticks used all that much brain matter, but anything was better than letting that cold fear take a stronghold.

“So, you guys find anything fascinating…other than a bunch of old rocks?” he dryly commented, dropping to his rear as Teal’c added the finishing touches to their masterpiece and lit the first match.

“Actually, Jack, yes. You probably can’t tell in the relative darkness, but this pond was definitely made by someone or something. Teal’c also found entrance to an underground tunnel, presumably leading to the network of caves I mentioned back at the ‘gate,” Daniel said, though his words held no note of victory or interest.

Unaccustomed to the lack of enthusiasm at the discoveries, Jack whipped his head up to find Daniel hunching as close to the growing fire as he could get without being in it. The archaeologist darted repeated looks behind him, calling up the memory of Carter’s earlier behavior. Continued behavior, he amended as he saw his captain following Daniel’s eyes. Disregarding his own mounting internal trepidation, he replaced it with worry for his team. He realized what being so wired for so long could do to a person—hell, spending all afternoon with Carter was a prime example. Now he had an almost legitimate reason to get out of Dodge and couldn’t make it happen.

“So you’re saying there’re people here?” Jack asked, fairly sure there wasn’t anyone here and positive he didn’t like the implications of that.

“It appears this world is no longer inhabited, O’Neill. Daniel Jackson and I had not yet explored the tunnel when you arrived,” Teal’c answered, slightly bent at the waist and as close to the fire as Daniel.

“I’m hoping there will be some indication of what happened to the civilization inside. And hopefully the rest of the animal life as well. Whatever it was, it must have happened a very, very long time ago.”

“Otherwise there would be more apparent signs,” Carter added, stating the obvious.

“Right.”

“Any idea on how long that might take?”

“Not without seeing what I have to work with,” Daniel patiently said.

“Okay, then,” Jack muttered.

Quiet befell the small camp, the sound of the crackling fire the only noise in the eerily silent air. Jack turned to stare at the dead pool of water, suddenly feeling they were too close to it. He was too close to it. Rising, he joined Carter and Daniel on the other side of the blaze, facing the pond. He ignored their startled looks and began digging thought the packs in search of the MREs and canteens.

“Anyone else hungry? I could eat a horse.”

When his inquiry was met with no verbal response, Jack shrugged his shoulders and yanked out rations for all of them anyway. Truth was, his stomach was doing somersaults for some reason. If he managed to choke something down, he’d be lucky if it stayed put. It was damned unnerving to be this spooked without due cause. The resurgence of uneasiness reminded him that he was not alone in the feeling; at least two of his team had been suffering something akin to what he was only now experiencing. That they hadn’t made any mention of it bothered him to no end.

“So,” he began, eyeing all three of his team members. They all felt it, even Teal’c, judging from the odd look on the Jaffa’s face. “You guys would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Daniel’s head popped up so fast, Jack thought he heard his neck crackling. Leaning away from him, the archaeologist nearly took a header into the campfire before he caught himself and landed clumsily on his butt. Jack took that as an emphatic sign something was definitely wrong in Jacksontown. Normally, after he’d swallowed the fear of near disaster, he would have had a good chuckle at the younger man’s expense. He felt no such compulsion tonight.

“You okay, Daniel?” Carter hesitantly asked, skittering closer to the fallen man.

“Fine. I’m f-fine.” Daniel brushed the woman’s hand away, slight stutter nearly inaudible. “Just lost my balance.”

“Really? You seem kind of edgy to me,” Jack probed. Damnit, someone had to root out the issue. “Know the feeling.”

“I’m just tired, Jack, I think. I’ve been a bit preoccupied today.”

“Me, too, sir,” Carter offered without being solicited.

Refraining from an adolescent ‘duh’, Jack simply looked at the thus far silent fourth member of his team. Teal’c still sat stiffly, hand opening and closing over his abdomen, gaze on the flickering flames. Apparently the Jaffa hadn’t been listening to the conversation—he could always count on the alien to be forthcoming with any intelligence.

“Teal’c?”

“Jack, he…” Daniel whispered, halting. Jack threw the younger man his best ‘TELL!’ look, which faltered when he saw a terrified expression peering back at him. “He did that before—spaced out. That’s not something Teal’c usually does. What’s going on here?”

“You’re asking me?” Jack hissed. “I just asked you.”

“Teal’c?” Carter stood and walked over to the Jaffa, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

The physical touch finally prompted Teal’c out of his trance. He pulled his eyes away from the fire and pinned them on the pale hand on his shoulder. Straightening, the Jaffa looked around at all of them, looking befuddled. Jack’s frown deepened at the evident disorientation, again wishing he could get the hell off this rock. Yesterday.

“I am sorry. I must meditate,” Teal’c blandly stated, giving Jack a slight headshake when he offered an MRE.

Without ensuring it was okay for him to do so, the Jaffa got to his feet and stalked away. Meditate. Maybe that was it—it had been a hell of a boring day. And this was, after all, their longest jaunt through the ‘gate since Carter was okayed for duty. They just needed to get back into the groove again, that’s all.

“You go. Meditate,” Jack mumbled. He snagged his dinner, popping it open without zeal and stirring it with his fork. Daniel and Carter watched Teal’c solemnly construct his tent while he fiddled with his food. He could see how tired they were. “Actually, we should all get some rest. Since there’s nothing else alive here, I don’t see the need for watches.”

“Sir, are you sure?” Carter immediately asked, alarm ringing in her voice. “I mean, what really do we know about this place?”

“Well, I’m no expert but I’d say not a whole helluva lot.”

“Jack, what Sam’s saying is that even though all the evidence points to the contrary, there’s always the chance that it’s misleading.”

Dropping the MRE to the ground, Jack ran a hand down his face. It was a valid argument, but he really didn’t relish the idea of spending quality alone time when there wasn’t even the sound of crickets chirruping to fill the silence. “Fine. I’ll take the first shift. Carter, you’ll take the next and wake Teal’c for the third. Daniel, you get sunrise duty—you make the best coffee.”

Glum faces bobbed up and down, then the pair moved away from the fire to get their tents ready. Jack couldn’t help but notice they both clasped their flashlights like they were little kids unwilling to give up their favorite toys. Or was a better analogy that their flashlights could serve as weapons against…what? There. Was. Nothing. Here. Scowling, he kicked his uneaten MRE into the fire and knew he’d regret not forcing it down and forcing his team to follow suit. They’d all be ravenous by morning.

The noises of his teammates died down as they all quickly settled into their tents, and he was left in the unnatural hush. Hair on the back of his neck prickling, Jack remembered precisely how suffocating silence could be. It set him on edge like almost nothing else.

Sounds of water lapping ominously from the mirror-still pond were a definite exception. Jack kept his eyes fixed on the pool, waiting in abject horror for something to happen. He didn’t know what, but the thought chilled him straight through.

No Title, But I Call It Island Paradise Lost in My Head
by Carrie

Mmm…warm…cozy…I am not going to work today. I snuggle deeper into my comforter and two things strike me simultaneously. 1) I’m not in my bed; and 2) it’s not my comforter I am snuggling with, but something else.

Alarm courses through me and I cautiously reach behind me with my right hand. Correction. Someone else!!

Whipping my hand back to me, I freeze in fear. My heart is pounding so hard I swear I can hear it, and I try to decide what to do. The Someone stirs behind me and an arm reaches out, encircling my waist. Reason flies out the window and I lose it totally. Drawing in a breath to let out an ear shattering scream, I am silenced before I can make a peep. The arm around my stomach quickly shifts positions to snake around my neck, hand clamping around my mouth.

“Shh! I’m not going to hurt you, but you can’t make any noise,” a surprisingly gentle voice whispers in my ear. “Now, I’m going to take away my hand. Please don’t scream, all right?”

Feeling I don’t have much choice in the matter, I manage a small nod and an embarrassing whimper. The hand retreats from my face and takes up occupancy on my shoulder. It gives me what, under usual circumstances, I would consider a reassuring squeeze and then he’s speaking again. “It’s not safe to talk here. Follow me.”

The hand on my shoulder does not move. Flight is not an option and something about the Someone’s voice tells me I shouldn’t make a ruckus. I resign myself to acquiescence now, escape later. I fumble for my glasses, surprised to find them. Huh. Small blessing.

Fuzz becomes clear, and I take in my surroundings. I, er, we, seem to be in a…bush? No, that’s not right. Upon closer examination I can tell that a makeshift shelter of large palm leaves provides protection from the sun and most likely conceals us from anything that may pass by. This has to be a dream. It’s far too surreal to be real and I really am far too calm.

The Someone tugs me to my feet and I finally look at him. Relief washes over me, I’m sure visibly. He doesn’t look like a serial killer or rapist. Of course, neither did Ted Bundy. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, army green fatigue pants, and boots. Military? My unease is not abating. Still, behind his own glasses, his cerulean eyes are transmitting anything but threat. In fact, I swear I see a little confusion in them. Not reassuring.

I finally become aware of what is causing Someone’s need for stealth. Loud, raucous laughter is a precursor to the herd of ten unbelievingly large men trampling our way. All are dressed in some sort of animal skin and have long, unruly hair. They look human, I think. Their facial features seem a little off—a little too big for their heads. Or something. Wonderful. Neanderthals.

Eyes wide, I look at Someone and thank my lucky stars I awoke with him. He glances my way and my thoughts are mirrored on his face. He raises his left hand to his face and gives me the `shush’ gesture. Duh. I nod and we begin to move silently away from The Burly Boys.

Due to my lack of footwear—thank goodness I wore socks to bed—we travel slowly for about half an hour. Estimating that we are far enough away, Someone relaxes a bit and turns to me, still speaking in hushed tones, I note. “OK. I think this is good. First things first. My name is Daniel.”

He pauses, obviously waiting for a response. Cat’s got my tongue and I continue to stare mutely at him.

“And your name is…?”

“Oh. Oh! Sorry. I’m not quite, uh, not quite, uh…I’m still really out of it. I’m Carrie.” I stupidly thrust out my hand.

“Carrie,” he smiles tentatively and grasps my hand, “It’s nice to meet you. Nice pajamas.” He says this with a bigger grin.

“Nice pajamas?? Nice pajamas?” I sputter, glancing down at my favorite Curious George in a spacesuit T-shirt and scrub bottoms. “What’s that supposed to mean? And what’s going on here? Where am I? What—”

He interrupts, “Sorry! They just remind me of something. Do you have any idea how you happened to arrive on this lovely island resort?”

We’re on an island. Great. Surrounded by water. Great.

“I haven’t a clue. I’m going with my `it’s all a dream’ theory. Last thing I remember is going to bed reading Dostoevsky. Imagine my shock when I found you had replaced him! It’s not every day I wake up with a strange man. You can safely consider me completely and utterly ignorant.” That came out bitchier than I intended, but Some… Daniel doesn’t seem to notice.

“Interesting. So, you weren’t on P4X 875 and you didn’t commit a crime resulting in your being flung through the Stargate onto Alcatraz courtesy of the Desprins?” Daniel thinks aloud.

“What!?” I practically scream, “You’re a criminal?! Those men? Criminals? I’m on a prison? Why?”

I fully realize that Daniel doesn’t know why I’m here any more than I do, but hysteria wins this particular battle.

“Like I said, last night I was at home, in Minnesota, far from here. Wherever here is! Then, poof! I was just here. I didn’t do anything! How am I gonna get out of here? Oh, tell me this isn’t real. It’s not real. I’m dreaming and any second I’ll wake up…”

Daniel breaks through my ramblings, “Carrie. Carrie! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Please calm down.” He grasps my shoulders, shaking me slightly, “Let me explain! I can explain…”

Lucidity regains control and I quiet down, nodding to Daniel. I don’t trust myself to speak. He peers at me apprehensively so I nod again, the only reassurance of my sanity I can offer at this point.

“I think you are going to need a little background information,” he begins. “In 1928, a major archaeological find uncovered what is now known as the Stargate…”

“So our last mission was to P4X 875, which we thought uninhabited. UAV and MALP readings revealed no indications of civilization, and we determined that it would be a potential site for a research colony. We set out to gather our samples, and had only been there three hours when we were attacked by 20 very unfriendly and very unexpected, uh, natives. We were strong-armed into a large cave and subsequently led into a courtroom, for lack of a better description. Our captors identified themselves as a race of people called Desprins. Apparently, the foundation of their belief system is that the `outside’ world was sacred ground and not to be damaged in any way. You know, `hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees…’

While they were cave-dwellers, they were anything but primitive. It was amazing, really! These people existed entirely on what they could find in the caves, had devised a very sophisticated hydroponics system for plant/food growth, rain water was collected both for drinking and power…,” Daniel’s eyes practically glowed with the memory, “Amazing. But, anyway. Where was I? Oh, yes. We had unknowingly broken one of their fundamental laws. Their judicial system is extremely harsh and we were instantly sentenced to life imprisonment. Here.”

Even after listening to Daniel’s diatribe of the Stargate’s history, I am enthralled with the continuing story. “Why are you the only one here? What happened to SG-1?”

“I was coming to that. We managed to convince them—don’t ask me how, I don’t really know myself—that it was unnecessary to banish all of us. At first Jack volunteered, but I couldn’t let that happen. I already witnessed the SGC without him for 3 long months.” Daniel shuddered. “I argued and, uh, won. It was decided that I be sent here and my friends home. We were separated at that point. I can only assume that it was so Jack, Sam, or Teal’c could not view where I was being transported. That was three days ago.

When I arrived here, the `Gate was being guarded by the men we saw earlier. From what I have gathered, they are the `cream of the crop’ prisoners and the Desprin High Council has obtained their services to ensure no prisoners escape. They are very diligent. The water is infested with very deadly…fish. I’m not sure what they are, actually, but I am sure that I don’t want to venture into the water.” He once again shudders at a memory and looks at me pointedly.

I assure him, “Oh, don’t you worry about me. The last place I want to be is in the water. Can’t swim.”

Eyebrows raise at this. “You come from the land of 10,000 lakes and you can’t swim?” he teases.

“Shut up! It’s not entirely my fault. I have a very large family. When the first shift went to lessons I was too young, and by the time the second came around, I was in the sixth grade. The image of a pudgy eleven year old in Beginner One with five year olds was enough to make me resigned to a life on land,” I retort defensively.

“OK, OK!” Hands fly up. “I won’t mention it again.”

“I’m sorry. I just get that a lot.” I am instantly apologetic for my rudeness. “So, you’ve been here three days. Any thoughts on how you are going to get home?”

Not that that helps me.

“Been thinking about that. I’m pretty sure that General Hammond will have sent SG-1 and SG-9 to negotiate for my release. I doubt they will have much success. Ultimately, I’m on my own. Even if I could manage to distract the guards long enough to dial Earth, I don’t have a GDO. Not much help. I could try to go somewhere else, but the problem still exists. And now, there’s you to consider…”

“What do you mean? I’m dreaming, remember?” I can’t resist, “Give me another ten minutes, I’ll wake up and be out of your hair. Just pinch me, that’ll prove it.”

To my shock, he does.

“Ow! Geez. I was kidding. Still, it’s good to know I’m real, huh?”

Daniel shakes his head with bemusement. I’m not positive, but I swear he mutters, “Just like Jack…” before clearing his throat and stating, “Seriously, Carrie. I don’t know about you, but I am not prepared to spend the rest of my life here. I’ll figure something out.”

I believe him. All earlier thoughts of escape have vanished, replaced with images of my family and friends. What if I never get out of here?

“Hey, you OK?” Daniel queries. “Did I say something to upset you?”

What?

He reaches out to brush something off my cheeks. Tears.

Embarrassed by the unconscious show of emotions, I sniffle. “No, no. Thinking about my family. I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to be here longer than I have to, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. I don’t have a family, but there are things I need to be doing,” he replies almost sadly.

I want to ask him what exactly, but at the last moment reconsider. I try a lame joke instead. “You know that all work and no play makes Danny a dull boy, don’t you?”

He winces and frowns at me.

“Sorry. It’s like I can’t help myself. Seriously though. If you want a ready made family, I have a couple of brothers and a handful of sisters I’d be willing to spare…” Before I know it, I’m at it again. Really have to work on that defense mechanism. “Sorry again. Can I ask you something? Why are you hiding from the guards? They obviously know that you’re here.”

“They do,” he affirms, “and so do some of the other prisoners. Everyone else I have seen seems relatively non-threatening, but based on a previous prison experience, I’ve chosen to remain as invisible as possible. I’m not, uh, known for my fighting prowess.”

“I see,” I agree. From our short time together, I assume he fights with words not fists. When he has to.

“And, uh, I have yet to run across any female prisoners.” Again the eyebrows lift as he glances at me.

“I…see,” I mutter. “Then I’d best be invisible too, huh?”

Four days of invisibility. Four days of trying to stem the pervading thoughts of my friends and family. Four days of listening to the exploits of Daniel and the rest of his team. What are they, superheroes or something? Colonel Smartass, Major Pollyanna and the Incredible Tulk. And of course Wonder Boy. Four days of listening to Daniel Jackson, Ph.D. in just about everything, expound on every random idea we’ve had on how to escape our island prison. Four days!!

At first it wasn’t so bad. But there’s a limit to anyone’s patience.

We focused on keeping an eye on The Burly Boys’ activity, watching for a window of opportunity. Seems the boys are about as bright as they look and we shouldn’t really have too much of a problem distracting them away from the `Gate long enough for us to dial out. We figured that out the first day, and have spent the past three days rigging the island with little surprises for them. The traditional rope nets, nooses, and strategically placed deep holes should be a decent diversion.

It’s hotter than hell on this Godforsaken rock, and as a result my scrubs have become Daisy Dukes and my T-shirt miraculously transformed into a tank top.

I have a serious sunburn going. I look like a lobster, truth be told. And what I wouldn’t give for a toothbrush. Shampoo. Ben & Jerry’s Lowfat S’mores Ice Cream. Any `real’ food would be good, actually. We found a shallow pond for drinking water and have been eating `Daniel approved’ roots and plants. The ultimate lose weight quickly diet. The lack of food just adds to my crabbiness.

I am really trying not to be irritable, but I swear if Daniel speaks for more than five minutes at a time I am liable to kick him. I don’t care where we go, I’m just sick of this place.

Daniel’s rambling about the pros and cons of `Gating to Psomethingorother. I wonder if he knows that I am not listening. He glances up when I don’t respond to a question and catches me glaring at him, a wounded look flashes over his features. Whoops.

“Look, Daniel. It’s not that I don’t care about what you’re talking about. It’s just that I don’t care where we go, as long as we eventually get home. Let’s keep working and not talk for a while, OK?” I sigh, really trying very hard not to sound like the bitch I have become.

“OK,” he agrees compliantly, and once again begins rummaging for camouflage.

It’s astonishing what you can throw together when you have to. We found some decent sized shells, tied them to some branches, and voila! Instant shovels. And look at my shoes. Pretty they are not, but surprisingly functional. I’ve only gotten a couple of slivers from the soft wooden soles, and the blisters between my toes from the vine straps have hardened into decent calluses. I could run in these babies.

The examination of my feet is cut short when I hear the strangest thing.

“If I had a million dollars, I would buy you a house. (I would buy you a house.) And if I had a million dollars, I’d buy you furniture for your house…,” a soft tenor voice wafts in my direction.

Ha! My revenge for hours and hours of mind numbing lectures. I sit back to enjoy the show. There’s something very odd-humorous about watching a skinny archaeologist rooting around for branches and whatnot to cover a gaping hole while singing the Barenaked Ladies. I finally managed to coerce Daniel into short-izing his pants, much to his chagrin, and the chicken legs add the finishing touches to my amusement.

I tiptoe up behind him as he sings, “I’d buy you a fur coat…”

I add the echo, “But not a real fur coat, that’s cruel.”

Taken off guard, he spins toward me and I tumble backward into our latest dig. Hey, it works!

“Are you OK!?” Daniel peers over the edge, “I am so sorry! You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that! Carrie? Carrie, are you OK?”

I try to squelch the gurgles of laughter I am emitting. They must sound like gurgles of pain. It’s hopeless. Days of labor and the hot, hot sun have fried my brain rather effectively.

“Hold on! I’ll get you out of there! Just try not to move!”

Spoken like a man with experience. I regain a semblance of control.

“Hee hee hee hee! I got you singing it! Hee hee hee!” I gasp through the giggles. I focus on him through tear filled eyes. His face goes from concerned, to embarrassed, to angry?

“Geez, you scared me! I thought you broke something…here grab this.”

Daniel lowers a thick vine down to me, grumbling the entire time. Guess I’m not the only one suffering from irritability. I clutch it, he pulls and I scramble up the side of the hole.

Once again on solid ground, my laughter subsides slightly. Daniel still looks mad.

“Can you please stop laughing? It’s really quite annoying.”

“I know, but…your face! I can’t help it! I’m sorry!” I can’t seem to stop.

He looks at me for a long moment, trying to hold back a grin. “I suppose that song was better than `Girlfriend in a Coma’. For a while there, I didn’t know which one was in my head worse!”

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” I concur. “I don’t know why, but I always get them in my head and they won’t go away!”

We lie on the ground for a bit, resting. More serious thoughts replace the silly song lyrics. Our days of strategizing are complete. In the morning we will make our escape attempt.

“Daniel? Daniel, wake up!” I nudge him. “We should get going. Have you decided where we’ll `Gate to?”

“Mmm…what?” Daniel murmurs. “Can’t we sleep some more?”

I can’t believe I have to be the mother here. I poke him ruthlessly. “Get up! We should head to the `Gate before The Burly Boys become more alert. Now answer my question: where are we going?”

“What? Oh!” Daniel lurches upright. “I’m ready! I’m up!”

As though to emphasize his readiness, his hands move to rub his eyes. Why is it that he is about ten years my senior and he still reminds me of my little brother?

“All right. OK. I’ve been thinking about it. I think we should `Gate to P4X 884, where SG-1 picked up Urgo, remember? Togar might have the technology to `Gate us home. Even if he doesn’t, I’m pretty sure he’ll remember me and be willing to help us. The problem is going to be distracting the guards long enough to dial and get out of here, and to keep them from following us through…”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

Daniel shoots me a very familiar raised eyebrow look.

“What? I’m no genius, but I am capable of thought!” I indignantly reply to the silent question. “How exactly do you think we deceive, inveigle and obfuscate The Burly Boys? I know we have all these fantastic traps throughout the island, but they won’t do any good unless we can get the brutes to run into them. The way I figure it, we need to get them at least a mile away and/or booby trapped in order for you to dial. I’m the obvious choice for a distraction…”

“Why do you think you should be the bait? I’ve got longer legs than you and therefore faster. I should lead them away…” Daniel protests.

“Hey, I don’t like the idea of offering myself to the horny cretins, either, but think about it. They haven’t seen a woman for who knows how long. I know I’m not the greatest catch in the world—but I have a feeling that that won’t matter,” I interrupt, lifting my own eyebrows in emphasis, quickly continuing before he can break in. “And besides, I don’t know the first thing about the DHD thingy, or the `Gate. You can do it faster…”

“I don’t like it. I don’t want you to potentially sacrifice yourself for this. It might not even work!”

“Daniel, it’ll be fine! I run seven miles a day, short legs or no. I’m little. I am fairly confident I will be able to, if nothing else, hide from them. I can lead them to the traps and swing back around towards the `Gate. Just give me a ten minute head start before dialing and hang around for a maximum of fifteen minutes after that. Any sign of `em and you get out of here! You’ll know where I am and can come back for me with reinforcements. If it’s necessary. I’m sure we’ll go through together.” I try to sound confident, hoping my fear isn’t showing through the bravado.

He seems to see my logic and gives a resigned sigh. “OK. But I still don’t like it.”

We head for the `Gate and find The Burly Boys half dozing yet. Perfect. Daniel is positioned on the left side of the `Gate and I the right. God, I hope this works.

Drawing in a deep breath, I exit from my concealed position into clear view of the guards. I am unnoticed. I don’t believe this is the best plan we could come up with. I sigh at the lack of reaction and decide verbal and visual stimulation are needed.

“Oh, boys?!” I call out in what I hope is a sultry voice. Embarrassed at having to exploit my feminine attributes, I arch my back, rub my right hand across my stomach and down my hip. Hoping fervently I look sexy, not ridiculous, I continue, “How you doin’?”

Smooth. Really smooth. I’ve become the female Joey Tribbiani.

All ten cease movement at the sound of my voice and their heads snap up in my direction. For one sick and excruciatingly long moment, time stops. Then I …oh God help me…turn and begin running.

I start out slowly, turning back only once to make sure all of them have taken the bait. The worst plan in the world seems to be working like a charm. I pick up speed, my adrenalized legs pumping faster and faster. I try to keep my head straight, to remember where our traps are laid and pattern my flight to zig and zag around, hoping this will lead my pursuers to them.

Behind me, thunderous footsteps sound alarmingly close and are getting closer. Resisting the urge to make the cheesy horror movie victim error of turning around in the middle of a chase, I will my legs to increase their speed. With not a little glee, I can hear the disgruntled groans of several Burly Boys as they fall prey.

Encouraged by these successes, and the euphoria of runner’s high I’m already experiencing, I relax a bit. Continuing my random pattern, I make a gradual arc back toward the `Gate. The noises of the guards have reduced, and I am sure at least half of them have been indisposed. I grin like a madwoman. I’m doing it! I’m almost there, I’m almost ho-oh shit!!

I’m falling into one of my own cleverly concealed traps. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I land with a thud, not lucky enough to be unscathed this fall. The air rushes from my lungs, and I feel my right wrist throbbing beneath me, the pain shooting up into my shoulder. I gasp for breath I can’t seem to catch and struggle into a sitting position, all the while dreading the meaning of the approaching footfalls. At least Daniel made it. I look up to face my fate.

Three brutes gawk down at me like I am an anomaly. Which of course I am. One retrieves a branch and extends it to me.

“Climb.”

Direct command, no room for interpretation. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I climb. I know when faced with one attacker you are not supposed to submit, but all my self defense knowledge flies out the proverbial window. I dumbly stare at The Burly Boys, but am pleased there are only three left standing.

All three start for me at once. I wince and brace for the oncoming attack. I am shocked when they simply grab me and start hauling me back in the direction of the `Gate. Along the trek, we free the unfortunate beasts I caught. I can’t help the small smile as it reflects on my face.

We are nearly there when I catch a slight movement in the underbrush. What…Daniel?? Dammit. He gives me the `shush’ sign, but it’s too late. One of the guards has noticed my distraction, calls for two of his companions and heads straight for Daniel. He doesn’t have a chance, is dragged out and flung next to me. We exchange glares and are forced to continue to the `Gate clearing.

The Burly Boys are none too pleased with us. We are knelt down and surrounded, effectively blocked from escape routes. To my horror, I see the morning exercises have awakened the other prisoners, who are now gathering to enjoy the spectacle.

“How far’d you get?” Daniel hisses. “And are you OK?” He eyes the arm I’m clutching to my chest.

“I did very well, thank you,” I hiss back through clenched teeth, ignoring his question to ask my own. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I couldn’t leave you. I thought of another plan. I was only able to get a portion of it done, so I hope it works…”

“You hope?”

“Yeah, well. I’m sure Sam’ll figure it out.”

“You dialed Earth even though we can’t go there.” I am not pleased.

“I didn’t want to take the chance that Togar would erase my memory again when he returned me home. Instead, I dialed Earth and tossed rocks through using Morse Code… I only got through S.O. and part of the last S. But Sam will know. She’ll figure it out.”

“What if she doesn’t? Now we’re both shit out of luck. You could have been saved, Daniel. If your memory was erased, you still would have remembered here, right?”

“We don’t know that. I couldn’t…”

We are both so involved in our argument, I almost forget where we are. Until the Brute in Charge intervenes with a bemused look at Daniel.

“Your woman?”

Heck of a bunch of conversationalists. Daniel freezes as though he’s not sure how to respond. Either answer has disaster written all over it. He hesitantly puts his arm around me protectively.

“Yes, she’s uh, my, uh, woman,” he stutters.

“Real convincing!” I whisper without thinking.

“No. Our woman,” Brute in Charge growls and wrenches me from Daniel’s suddenly strong grasp.

Daniel lunges for me, but is intercepted by a meaty fist forcefully slamming into his jaw. He goes down but springs back up quickly. Best impression of a Weeble Wobble I’ve ever seen. Five of them jump on him with a violence I’ve only seen in movies.

He’s hidden from my view by his attackers, but I can hear the punches and kicks, his groans coming through loud and clear. Leave him alone!

I don’t realize that I have screamed this out loud until my own attackers return their full attention to me. I see Daniel slump lifelessly to the ground and lie there unmoving. A part of me is glad that he won’t have to see what’s about to happen.

What’s about to happen, I am positive, is that I am going to be raped to death. Or into a catatonic state. It’s hard to say which is the lesser evil.

Hands grope me brutally. They are all over me, I want them off me! Get off me! I instinctively try to wrestle, kick, claw—hell—spit at my multiple violators. I’m too weak. I can’t stop them but I won’t stop trying. Getoffmegetoffmegetoffme!!

Apparently one of them is irritated by my unwillingness to participate. A huge paw slaps me hard across the face. My glasses are knocked askew and darkness eats around the edges. I would like nothing more than to succumb to it, but luck is not on my side. I remain conscious, vision thankfully impaired by the cock-eyed glasses.

Through my tortured haze, I think I hear something. What…? The attack seems to change tempo, and I feel some of the men step away. I don’t know what is diverting their attention, but I am grateful for it. What is that noise? God get them off me!

And suddenly they are gone, scampering away like rabbits into the cover of the jungle. I identify the noise I thought I heard as gunfire. What? God thank God.

Then I remember…shit, Daniel! I get my bearings the best I can, straighten my glasses and crawl over to him.

Before I reach my destination, running legs block the short distance between me and Daniel. No! My vision is beginning to waver in and out, focus becoming increasingly difficult. No! Leave him alone!

Strong arms grab me from behind and I flail my left elbow backwards, gratified by the smack of flesh against flesh and the accompanying groan.

“Geez, I think she broke my nose!” I hear faintly, surprised both by the tone and length of the sentence. Huh?

“Keep an eye out for the natives, will ya? Danny?” the voice continues.

The attack has stopped long enough for me to realize that I’m surrounded by the good guys now. Exhaustion takes over and I wilt face down, unable to move. My eyes lock onto Daniel’s crumpled figure and I latch onto his arm. I won’t let go, they can’t make me.

“Daniel? Daniel!” the gruff voice calls and I see Daniel shift somehow. The owner of the voice is cradling him halfway on his lap.

I hear someone sobbing. Why won’t they shut up?

I am being gingerly turned over and moved, a soft hand reaches out to touch my face. To brush away the tears streaming down my cheeks. Daniel and I are side by side now.

“Shh, it’s OK. You’re OK.” A feminine voice whispers. “Just relax. We’re getting you both out of here.”

I snap back into full consciousness, and swallow my pending hysteria. My hand clutches harder at Daniel’s arm and I look over to him. God, what did they do to him?

“Miss, he’ll be all right. He’s been worse off than this and survived. Really, he just looks bad.” The gruff voice I assume belongs to Jack O’Neill soothes, seeing my distress. “You can’t keep our Danny-boy down. I on the other hand am going to need major medical attention!” I hear the grin in his voice, an attempt to draw a response. I don’t. Concern replaces the teasing, “Carter, she all right?”

Hands gently probe me and I am not able to refrain the hiss of pain as they contact my wrist and shoulder. “Looks like her right wrist is sprained and right shoulder badly bruised. She must have fought them a bit. Her cheekbone also has a decent sized bruise. No serious damage from what I can see. I’m more concerned with psychological damage, Colonel. You saw those men. They were—”

“No, I’m OK,” I croak. It hurts to talk. I look away from Daniel, at last seeing those around me. Jack is holding Daniel with one arm, his other wiping blood from his nose. Sam kneels next to me, but I see on of her hands on Daniel’s leg. There are six other camouflaged people on the edge of my vision. A booming voice cuts through my observations.

“O’Neill, I believe the prisoners are beginning to approach the Stargate once again. It would be wise to make our departure immediately.”

Gaping up at the massive form, I fight the urge to laugh, “Whoa! You really are the Incredible Tulk!” Low chuckles from Jack and Sam and an extremely arched eyebrow from Teal’c ensue. “What? Did I say that out loud?”

Jack begins to respond, but before he can we all hear a rustling in the jungle underbrush. Panic swells in me. I don’t ever want to see those men again. Sam moves away quickly to dial Earth.

“Can you walk?” Jack asks me.

I don’t trust my legs, but nod. Still reluctant to lose my hold on Daniel, I stumble to my knees. Jack lifts Daniel with a groan and I follow suit. On my shaky legs, I hobble with them toward the active `Gate. I don’t have time to be awestruck, as my vision is once again unreliable. I’m back on my knees and before I can figure out it happened, I’m floating. Teal’c's capable arms grasp me around the shoulders and beneath my knees, carrying me toward the `Gate. Steps away from the event horizon, I give in to shock and exhaustion. Everything fades to gray, then black.

“Miss? Miss!” A rude hand intrudes, shaking my shoulder persistently. My head snaps up.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Miss, are you going to buy one of those? Or just stare at them all day?” the video store clerk snidely quips, indicating the Stargate and Swiss Family Robinson DVDs I am clutching.

“Er. I’ll take this one,” I mumble abashedly, handing him the Stargate DVD and follow him to the register.

I really need to get a life.

The End

Nothing is Alone
by Carrie

“To date, we’ve only come across a handful of planets with direct Eastern influence, mainly because the gods of that culture were not as, um, malevolent as gods in Egyptian, Roman, Greek mythology have apparently turned out to be. At least as the Goa’uld have manifested them,” Daniel explained with a slight cringe of distaste. “The village doesn’t look to be occupied by the Goa’uld. The only life signs we’ve picked up have been human. I think this is worth checking out.”

“Furthermore, sir,” Sam quickly stepped up to continue where Daniel left off, “UAV and MALP readings indicate possible naquadah deposits about 5 kilometers away from the ‘gate, quite possibly a mine of some sort. While I believe it is in disuse, as the readings are nominal, I would still like to investigate.”

General George Hammond gazed around the briefing room at the gloom tinged faces surrounding him, worry creeping into his veins stealthily. After the undercover operation to weed out Maybourne’s rogue crew, the members of SG1 were on edge. Major Carter, Teal’c and Daniel seemed a bit leery around Colonel O’Neill yet, and truth be told, Hammond thought he could sense some underlying tension even amongst the three.

He hadn’t liked the way the Tollan, Nox and Asgaard manipulated him and O’Neill into deceiving their own people, especially SG1. The three members not included in the sting had proven their trustworthiness as often as O’Neill had, and he had argued vainly for their inclusion. There was nothing Hammond disliked more than being controlled by people who considered themselves superior. Chuckling to himself, Hammond realized he should be used to that feeling by now—it was pretty much status quo in his position. The President, while professing complete innocence, had successfully backed him into a corner on far too many an occasion.

“Sir? Your thoughts? Doesn’t look like the inhabitants will pose a threat.” Colonel O’Neill’s voice broke into his wandering thoughts.

The curious look on Jack’s face snapped Hammond into full attention, a blush working its way up his neck to the tip of his bald crown. How embarrassing to be caught daydreaming in the middle of a briefing. Hammond pulled himself erect in his chair, cleared his throat and took one more cursory look at the team. He wasn’t satisfied they were fully ready to go on any missions—their lack of cohesiveness could prove a major obstacle. If Daniel and Sam were correct, this mission should be straightforward, in and out in a matter of days. Hammond couldn’t think of a plausible reason not to approve it.

“Yes. Very well.” Hammond cleared his throat before continuing, “You have a go. Dr. Jackson, Major Carter? Do you feel 48 hours is sufficient time to complete your research?”

“It should be, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

The pair of them responded at the same time, both normally exuberant scientists somewhat subdued. Hammond raised his eyebrows, afraid for a fleeting moment his decision was an incorrect one. Sam was always enthusiastic to find possible sources of naquadah for the reactor she was working on, and her lack of interest was highly disconcerting. Daniel’s lack of verve at the chance to explore ancient Eastern culture was just as disturbing, all too reminiscent of Daniel’s difficulty after his wife died.

Looking back, Hammond couldn’t help but feel a pang when he thought of Daniel’s withdrawal after the death of his wife, a grief he understood far too well. It had only been after many months of depression he himself was able to move on with his life after the loss of his beautiful wife. Hammond missed her just as much today as he did only days after her death, the emptiness at times threatening to consume him.

At those times, Hammond had only to think of his children, grandchildren and adopted family to pull him out of the funk. SG1 had somehow sneaked into that space in his heart, unknowingly filling it exactly when it was needed. As the months progressed, he saw Jack O’Neill, Teal’c and Samantha Carter do the same for the young archaeologist. Their work was laborious, but done with love and patience, eventually leading Daniel a little further away from misery.

Daniel wasn’t unique in his sufferings. The past six months had brought little but grief to SG1—since Hathor’s demise. Having to watch team after team search for the three human members while Teal’c lay in what can only be termed a coma had been agony. Teal’c was so weakened when he awoke, but so damn determined to find his friends, so damn sure they were alive, despite his own horrifying condition when he was found. Hammond took great stock in the Jaffa’s strength of spirit, wiggling his way out of the Pentagon enforced corner to aid the noble warrior in his search. But, every once in a while, Hammond was certain he caught Teal’c studying his three companions as though they might disappear before his very eyes. Afraid of what might have been. Hammond silently commiserated with him, honoring Teal’c's stoic reservation.

Hammond switched his gaze to the young major, who only a few short weeks ago almost lost her father. Her anguish had been evident to all, worry lines etching around her eyes, lower lip refusing to remain steady. SG1 rallied around her as they only can—saying few words, but conveying their support through unfailing dedication to find Jacob or die trying. Each knew they were volunteering, literally, to go through hell and there was no question as to their determination. Hammond knew it had helped Carter tremendously to have them and Martouf with her as she had to endure accessing the memories of Jolinar and the uncertainty of whether her father was alive or dead.

Nor had life been kind to Colonel O’Neill. Hammond was feeling immense guilt at being required to ask the colonel to lie to his friends only a short couple of weeks after returning from Edora. Duty was a bitch. As if being trapped on a distant planet, thinking you’d never get home again, wasn’t enough of a burden to handle. Jack didn’t have the opportunity to regain his footing, to gather his family around him, before duty called again.

Hammond had been shocked to find Jack in his office late one evening, tucked into a corner as if to hide. He was positive he’d seen a hint of tears in the younger man’s eyes as Jack unleashed all his pent up emotion on Hammond, explaining how awful it had been to lie. How he had cut Daniel to the core at his house; how Jack hurt because of it. Such a show of rare emotion should not have been demonstrated to him, Hammond knew. It should have been expressed to Jack’s team, but SG1′s relationships had become fragile and unstable where once it was a formidable brick wall.

A rift was torn wide open, disrupting the balance SG1 worked so hard at obtaining, given their wide varying backgrounds and styles. Hammond could see the foundation slowly but surely being laid again, and he only hoped it would not crumble. The lack of trust, the wariness each of them expressed toward each other was disheartening, but deep in his heart he knew they would pull through this. Together, as always.

“You’re scheduled to leave at 0900 hours. Dismissed.”

Hammond sighed. He hated not being able to say what he wanted to say, to tell them to be careful and to get better. They wouldn’t know what he was talking about anyway, or at least they’d pretend they didn’t. Shaking his head as SG1 silently left the briefing room, Hammond longed for the banter and teasing that was now conspicuously absent. He rubbed his head and turned back into his office, to try and focus on the rest of his work and not his troubled flagship team.

Jack pulled on his boots, staring at the wall blankly with his back to his team. The locker room was filled only with the sounds of zippers and Velcro. The spaces in between were as grim and silent as a cold winter morning. Jack closed his eyes and stamped down the need to hit something in frustration. He had received absolution from Carter, Teal’c and Daniel, but their actions conflicted their words.

Carter seemed extremely uncomfortable…all the time. Jack could usually count on her support, however ever since Edora and the damn NID thing, she avoided being alone with him. At first he had tried his usual method of stupid jokes to relieve the tension, but it didn’t induce her customary smile. It didn’t take him long to figure out he would have to go above and beyond to determine exactly what was eating at Carter and then even further to fix it.

His second in command wasn’t the only one giving him a cold shoulder. Though Teal’c was naturally reserved, Jack had been slowly breaking through his Jaffa skin. Teal’c had progressed so far Jack thought he might actually crack a joke of his own soon. That all changed upon his official return to the SGC. Jack could sense Teal’c was glad to have him back, but the wall was back up as solid and high as ever.

Jack drew his laces in snugly, pulling at the hapless strings as if the action would somehow rein in his feelings of helplessness. Tamp them down before things got really out of control. It didn’t help, and Jack knew he could anticipate sore feet in a few hours. In an odd way, the pain would be welcome, a tangible reminder with every footstep of his actions. The fact he was ordered to keep SG1 in the dark didn’t matter. He should have trusted them with the truth—should have demanded it. They would have if in the same situation. No, military protocol would have forced Carter’s hand as it did his and Teal’c also honored their rules. Only Daniel…

God, Daniel was the worst of all. Jack took off his hat and viciously rubbed a hand through his hair, now oblivious to the fact he wasn’t physically alone in the room. He kicked the wall stubbornly.

“Sir?”

Oops. “Carter?” he snapped back, shooting her a look that would have fried an egg.

“Are you…nothing,” she replied and slunk out of the room.

Jack wanted to call an apology, confused at his inappropriate reaction to her innocent concern. Tensions had built so high, he was practically shaking. Jack couldn’t take it much longer.

“Jack.”

Jack sighed, but didn’t turn toward Daniel. He just couldn’t look at the younger man and see the hurt in his eyes anymore. After nearly four years together, did Daniel actually think Jack couldn’t read him easier than a children’s book? Hell, they’d spent a few days on Abydos a short time after having met and had developed an almost instant simpatico. It was strange to think about it that way—but it was truth. He and Daniel rubbed each other the wrong way at first, but then there was a moment of realization. They were just in sync.

“What, Daniel?” Jack asked softly.

“Are you ready? Teal’c and Sam are probably already in the ‘gateroom,” Daniel replied equally softly.

He looked around, surprised. Damn that Jaffa was stealthy. Daniel stayed behind and was staring at Jack’s overly tight bootlaces as if he understood the reason for their assault on Jack’s feet. He averted his gaze from the younger man, Daniel’s expression too similar to his own inner feelings to bear at the moment. Jack shrugged. Daniel’s expression was because of him.

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

“We are trying you know, Jack,” Daniel said hesitantly.

“I know. I know,” Jack murmured almost inaudibly.

“Do you?” Daniel pressed.

“Yes, I do, Daniel. Look, can we talk about this later? Now’s not a good time. When we get back,” Jack replied quickly.

Daniel shuffled out of the room with no further comment. Jack gaped at the open door, the footsteps receding from him rapidly. Why wasn’t now a good time? It was the first time any of his team even approached the subject and Jack snuffed it out before it could really get lit. Both with Carter and Daniel. Sometimes Jack believed there couldn’t be a bigger idiot in the universe.

Jack stared regretfully at the empty room, trying to convince himself there wasn’t time to hash out all the pent up resentment and distrust floating around. He noticed all three of his teammates seemed more reserved and wary with each other as well as with him. What Jack couldn’t figure out was if it was simply a residual effect from his own actions or something deeper.

Regardless, Jack had seen Hammond study all of them during the briefing. Jack could tell his commanding officer obviously had some pretty heavy reservations about sending them on this mission. Daniel wasn’t the only one whose face revealed more than its owner thought. Ever since Jack had his embarrassing little ‘breakdown’ in Hammond’s office, he’d caught the older man examining him surreptitiously. The fact he’d opened up the concern to include his entire team worried Jack considerably, but if Hammond could overlook his misgivings, then SG1 could pull themselves together to get through a routine trip through the Stargate.

If they couldn’t manage that, Jack didn’t know what they were going to do.

He was tired of being alone.

There really wasn’t a good reason for his behavior over the past week. Sure, Jack had gone behind their backs. All in the line of duty. Daniel scoffed at the antiquated and, in his mind, moronic military excuse. It was a quick fix, a bandage to slap over gory moral atrocities. Daniel stopped in the middle of the hallway. Gory moral atrocities? That was slightly melodramatic, but the long and short of it was his teammates were often forced to take actions they wouldn’t as regular, non-military people. To kill, to lie, to…steal.

Daniel understood that. He himself had had to do things he was against during his time at the SGC. That’s why he should feel no bitterness toward Jack or General Hammond for their participation in the subterfuge. But he was only human, and the feelings rose in him more often than he’d like to admit. There were times when Daniel wished he could achieve the level of Kel No’reem Teal’c did. He had advanced significantly with practice, but not so much to ease this strain.

This strain which was eating away at him, turning him into a strange deviation of his usual self. Normally, he used the closeness of SG1 as a built in comfort blanket. Sam, Teal’c and Jack were always there for him when he needed it the most, but now he sensed the blanket had been snatched ruthlessly away from him. When he jokingly told Jack he, Sam and Teal’c had drawn straws to determine who would try to persuade him to stay with the SGC, Daniel hadn’t realized how appropriate the analogy was. Except he hadn’t only drawn the losing straw, he’d drawn the final straw.

Daniel could catalogue every event from the last six months into nice, neat boxes. He could label each as significant factors leading to the ultimate collapse of SG1. Their separation on Hathor’s world, Sha’re’s death, Netu, Edora…all things which should have gathered them closer in actuality tore them apart with the destructiveness of a tornado. He felt as though he had been flung a great distance away from everyone, left to dangle in the wind.

He saw it all happening. Saw it and did nothing to stop the downward spiral, reverting instead to childhood defense mechanisms. To cope with the loss, he shut himself off from his surroundings, playing that everything was nice and normal. On the outside, he was positive the ‘nice and normal’ act was successful. He and Sam still compared notes and worked together, but lately the element of camaraderie Daniel had come to depend on was absent. Their time together became almost clinical—of coworkers and nothing more.

When Jack was trapped on Edora, Sam’s time was consumed by the need to bring him back home. Not that Daniel resented her drive. He had been as worried as she about the colonel. But her devotion seemed to be spawned by something deeper, something that was intangible to him and Teal’c. Daniel’s attempts to break into her dogged research routine were met with snappish and sometimes even rude responses.

Daniel wasn’t stupid. He saw the…friction between Jack and Sam. The only proof he needed to confirm his suspicions was her stunned reaction at Jack’s bittersweet goodbye with Laira. That had wounded Sam more than it should have, and then with Jack seemingly turning his back on them, well, Daniel couldn’t blame Sam for being a bit distant with the man. Even looking back at his own behavior, he could see why she was irritated with him. He’d been pretty snarky with Makepeace and Hammond and put her on the spot inappropriately.

And Jack. Daniel hadn’t really given his friend the chance to explain or really apologize for the deception. Jack’s words, though he now knew were spoken as protection for Daniel and to safeguard the secret operation, still hurt considerably. What is it people say? Hidden behind every statement said in jest is an element of truth. The mere possibility Jack actually harbored some of those feelings was bothersome. Did Jack consider all of Daniel’s ideals to be worthless? If that was the case, he might just as well consider Daniel worthless.

“Dr. Jackson?” A mild voice edged into his dreary reverie. “Are you all right?”

Looking up to find the friendly face of Sergeant Siler looking down at him in concern, Daniel realized he’d been standing stock still in the hallway far too long. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks,” he said quickly and hastily walked away. He could feel worried eyes following his progress. Great. It seemed he was more transparent than he’d led himself to believe. General Hammond was sure to get a report. At least he could trust the general to exercise discretion when he approached SG1, which he no doubt would.

Approaching the ‘gateroom, Daniel suddenly hesitated again. He saw Sam and Teal’c standing at the ready, neither speaking. Not even facing each other. His eyebrows instantly furrowed. Daniel’s relationship with Teal’c had always been somewhat tentative, but it was one he valued highly. The Jaffa proved time and time again his dedication to the ‘greater good’, the battle against the Goa’uld. His dedication to his friends was equally strong. Then Teal’c killed…was forced to kill…Sha’re, and Daniel was blinded to Teal’c's friendship. It had taken him a long time to really believe Teal’c had done the right thing. Maybe too long.

Daniel studied Teal’c for a few minutes. Though it had taken months, Daniel was positive their friendship was not in jeopardy, but that didn’t preclude the fact Teal’c had been even more reserved than usual around all of them. He hadn’t shirked any of the stalwart support when it was necessary. When it wasn’t? Teal’c all but disappeared. Daniel shook his head. While he was trying to coax Sam away from her lab with such die-hard enthusiasm, he hadn’t thought twice about Teal’c or how he was handling Jack’s absence. He could excuse it away as remnants of discomfort about Sha’re, but that would be a lie. Daniel just hadn’t thought. He was pretty sure Sam hadn’t either.

Daniel sucked in a huge breath and walked toward his teammates. He wished Jack would hurry up and get here so they could get this over with. He should be intrigued at the chance to gain firsthand knowledge of ancient Eastern culture, but his heart wasn’t in it. The rift between him and his teammates spanned miles. He never realized how vital each friendship was to him until it had disappeared. Vital not only personally, but professionally as well. He’d not felt the thrill of discovery when stepping through the ‘gate for some time. He missed that feeling.

The instant they came back, he was going to have a good, long conversation with Sam, Teal’c and Jack to attempt healing the wounds. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

He missed his friends.

Why was Daniel staring at them? It was extremely uncomfortable for Sam to be held under his microscope for any period longer than thirty seconds. He didn’t mean anything by it, she knew, but it still made her want to squirm and shout ‘Make him stop looking at me!!’ to Jack. Both Daniel and Teal’c had that affect on her. There was just too much they could be thinking that was never revealed.

Not that Jack was easy to read. God only knows she’d spent hours trying to discern his behavior patterns. It just wasn’t going to happen. She knew that, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She was a foolish teenager with a crush and she was pretty sure the same applied for the colonel. Nothing harmful, just a little chemistry.

Well, that’s what she’d thought until Edora. All those months, thinking of no one but him and he didn’t even appear grateful for the rescue. Nor did he seem to want to leave. To top it all off, he chose there to spend his retirement. So it was a fake retirement. It still rankled her. Sam realized she was now staring at Daniel staring at them. She shook her head at her pointless thoughts. She had no right to be angry with Jack…Colonel O’Neill… about her misplaced feelings. She had better just suck it up and move on with her life.

Sam found it so much easier to forgive the colonel his transgressions in the NID affair than his inability to return her affection. He’d been undercover, under direct orders from General Hammond. She had the impression he was still beating himself up over it, though they had all assured him of their understanding. When they got back from this mission, Sam intended to have a little discussion with her commanding officer to clear the air and set things right.

Studying her shoes, Sam didn’t notice Daniel finally join them. He looked pathetic in his misery, his expression should have reflected wonder and excitement for the upcoming days and instead was sallow, almost dour. It couldn’t have happened overnight. How had she not noticed?

Duh.

Daniel had tried to keep her company, demonstrating frustration because he couldn’t assist her in any other fashion as she worked to bring the colonel home. For his trouble, she treated him like a wayward puppy, always underfoot and unceasingly annoying. It had been wrong of her and the memory made her twinge with embarrassment. That isn’t the way you treat a friend.

What exactly went on at the colonel’s house that day, Daniel never told her. Likely never would. It had to have been bad, though, if the colonel’s dead on performance as heartless, bad-ass military man with her was any indication. Those two had known each other the longest, the feelings ran the deepest between them, whether they wanted to admit it or not. She couldn’t help but wonder if that conversation wasn’t the root of their current conditions. Daniel was acting exactly the way he had been for a month after Sha’re’s death…

“Where is Colonel O’Neill?” Teal’c asked.

Sam jumped, caught a little off guard at his deep voice. She felt her cheeks redden when her two teammates gave her identical eyebrow quirks, both delivered with an air of understanding. She was embarrassed when she understood they knew exactly where her thoughts were.

“He’ll be here any second. When I left he was just finishing up,” Daniel answered, looking like he didn’t believe his words.

Teal’c bowed his head once, but said nothing. Sam wondered what was going on in the Jaffa’s mind. On a good day, Sam couldn’t figure him out. Now it was absolutely impossible. His reaction to the colonel’s absence was as she would have predicted—he had carried out his duty like an efficient soldier, but the light she swore filled his eyes had dampened to a mere flicker. The colonel’s playful presence gone, Teal’c became the same Jaffa which had first joined them four years earlier. He was stoic and sensible. Sam hadn’t even realized how much Teal’c had changed over time and how much she relied on his strength. And that was not limited to his physical strength.

Checking her watch, Sam was worried. It wasn’t like the colonel to be this late. Actually, he was never late. Usually it was Daniel they waited for, the archaeologist cramming as much research in before embarking as he could and delaying them all. There had been several instances where someone had to go collect him. Sam smiled at the memories. The colonel would feign disgust for outward show, muttering under his breath complaints against Daniel. Underneath the gruff and grumble, though, he appreciated the younger man. More than appreciated all of them. If he was this late, Sam was more certain than ever it was because he needed some self-recrimination time.

“SG1, what’s the delay?” General Hammond’s disembodied voice echoed in the ‘gateroom.

“No delay, sir. We’re ready,” the colonel barked as he marched into the room and took his place at the front of the team. “Let’s go, people.”

Sam was relieved her commanding officer seemed to be himself again until she noticed his refusal to meet any of their eyes. He didn’t even spare a look in their general vicinity. Daniel shifted slightly, clearing his throat. The sound hung in the air like a bad omen. The colonel shot him a stare Sam couldn’t interpret, but Daniel apparently could, as he made a couple of sidesteps to stand directly behind Teal’c. Teal’c, in turn, moved away from Daniel and the younger man’s face beaconed her own feelings. He blanched, openly pained.

No matter what it took, Sam was going to figure out a way to fix whatever had broken her team.

Teal’c calmly ignored the shocked expressions of his two young companions and the non-reaction of O’Neill at his withdrawal from Daniel Jackson. He felt their surprise unfounded, based upon their recent lack of interaction with him. Teal’c was feeling uncharitable of late and, if he admitted to himself, hurt at his Tau’ri friends’ callous behavior. Finding himself embroiled in the ‘you get what you give’ mentality, Teal’c was having a difficult time avoiding traipsing further down that unsavory path.

When O’Neill had first been left behind on Edora, Teal’c accepted the responses from the remaining members of his team. They were undoubtedly upset and merited some time to deal with their emotions on the personal level. Teal’c had thought they, as a team, would then be able to come together to cope with the vast loss. This did not happen, though it was apparent to him Daniel Jackson made some attempts toward Major Carter while offering nothing to him.

The thoughts seemed petty to Teal’c. He was quibbling about reactions to an unusual and stressful situation. His interactions with Daniel Jackson had decreased naturally after the death of Sha’re and the current wall could still be attributed to that event. However Teal’c did not believe it to be the cause for his young friend’s disregard. Perhaps Teal’c had allowed himself to become too unemotional and rigid. Jaffa training dictated him to be stalwart in his actions, so as to keep the enemy off balance. It was a trait most cumbersome to him with the Tau’ri, who conveyed emotions readily and considered those who did not were cold and heartless.

Teal’c was not cold and heartless. Rather, he felt and experienced everything with utmost sensitivity. It was only his outward appearance that reflected unceasing calm. Inside he churned with all the feeling they were able to display. His friends were slowly drawing Teal’c's innermost feelings to the surface, a feat he would have deemed impossible a few short years ago. It takes time to break down mechanisms that have been in place for many years.

Truth be told, it was mostly the work of O’Neill Teal’c attributed his newfound ease to relay emotion. The leader of SG1 possessed will so mighty as to rival Master Bra’tac, coupled with a lighter side. Teal’c had not understood O’Neill at first, but as time went on, he had come to respect and appreciate both facets of the warrior he served for and with. He saw O’Neill keep the respect of so many, yet relax and joke casually. It was a mix of which Teal’c was somewhat envious.

Without the steady stream of O’Neill-induced facetious comments, Teal’c found it easy to retreat back into his shell. Major Carter revealed very little amusement at O’Neill’s antics and Daniel Jackson even less, and since they had demonstrated no interest in his company, Teal’c spent countless hours on physical and mental training, alone.

The Stargate whooshed to life and O’Neill immediately stomped up the ramp and through the event horizon, not hesitating for his team. Teal’c watched with deep regret upon his heart. He missed the familial atmosphere of SG1. Despite being upset at them, Teal’c was concerned for his Tau’ri friends. He took many opportunities to covertly survey their states and he was not pleased with what he saw.

The scientists both were paper cut outs of their former selves, already slight statures now alarmingly slender. Identical bruised purple shadowed their eyes, cheekbones more defined. More worrisome than the physical signs was the apparent lack of spirit each contained. Their actions reflected a weariness borne not of lost sleep. Through his own hurt, he had observed Daniel Jackson’s futile attempts to aid Major Carter and the dejection both took on as time passed.

Major Carter slouched into the wormhole, followed momentarily by Daniel Jackson. Both exhibited defeated expressions. Teal’c frowned at the sight. He was responsible for a portion of that and he was struck by a sudden onset of guilt. No good could come from him refusing to let go hard feelings. He should have approached them earlier, but nothing could be done about it now, except to remedy the wrongs.

Teal’c solemnly walked up the ramp, the thought most prevalent in his mind was how to accomplish that task. He knew his friends would likely not even understand his need for absolution. That did not matter. His confession would reveal all and allow his conscience to be cleansed completely. That is what mattered.

Nearing the event horizon, Teal’c could feel eyes upon his back. He turned briefly and looked up to the briefing room observation window. General Hammond was framed dead center in the glass, a distressed expression radiating from his face. Teal’c's admiration for the Air Force commander increased exponentially each day he knew General Hammond. The concern was not for their physical beings. Teal’c was certain the general was fully aware of the underlying tension and hoped SG1 could overcome it.

Teal’c would ensure their survival as a team. Perhaps there would be a time on this mission to begin down the long road back home. He stepped the open ‘gate with hope high in his heart.

Jack looked at his surroundings with disinterest. The terrain was not abnormal, more prairie than forest and the landscape was calm and peaceful, with no signs of life. The UAV had revealed a village eight kilometers north of the ‘gate, a naquadah mine five kilometers south. As time was limited, Jack felt it best they divide into pairs.

“All right, we’ve only got two days. Carter, you and Teal’c head to the mine to scope out the naquadah deposits. Daniel and I will head to the village to make friendly with the natives. Join us there when you’re done. Check in every three hours,” Jack spoke quickly, trying to make his voice normal.

“Yes, sir,” Carter said simply and began to walk away.

Teal’c spared a slight nod and strode with a long gait to catch up to her. Jack paused and watched them for a few seconds. Maybe the time alone would prompt conversation, both for Carter and Teal’c as well as him and Daniel. He had planned to just get through this mission and then address his personal worries, but now Jack strangely found himself wanting to get things out sooner rather than later. It would be easier to talk with Carter and Teal’c, so Jack purposely chose Daniel as his partner. Like eating your least favorite thing at Thanksgiving dinner first, saving the best for last, Jack wanted the most difficult task out of the way first.

Out of the way. That wasn’t exactly the best angle to look at things. Daniel, though, had been the one receiving the most unfavorable and hurtful lies from him. Daniel was the one he couldn’t even look at anymore. Daniel was the one who had made a concerted effort to speak with him. It seemed only right to start mending holes with his young friend first.

“Jack?” Daniel asked timidly.

The colonel turned to the voice, dismayed to see Daniel half raise his hand to snag Jack’s sleeve only to jerk it back down rapidly. Almost as though Jack was a too-hot pan and he’d accidentally forgotten the hot pad. Damn. He really had burned his team, hadn’t he? Not only that, he’d been treating the wounds with bandages and salve, covering the pain and locking it in rather than letting it breathe.

“Right. I’m coming,” Jack mumbled.

Trouble was, Jack didn’t have a clue where to begin. What should he say? The great O’Neill intellect was giving him nothing. He shoved Daniel away before, would any attempt even be welcome now? Jack hated the indecisiveness he was feeling. There was no reason to wait until they got back home. He had Daniel here now. Alone, with eight kilometers to go and nothing but the wind to fill the silence.

“Jack?” Daniel repeated, concern now edging the enquiry.

Right. Walking would be a good idea. Carter and Teal’c were probably already halfway to their destination, while he seemed to have taken up permanent residence at the ‘gate. Jack squared his shoulders and turned to face Daniel again. Maybe he should just try standard mission talk first, then work up to the dirty stuff.

“So, Daniel. Tell me more about Eastern traditions. Anything I should be aware of before we run into people?” Jack asked, pleased to find his voice was not laced with tension.

Daniel loosened up slightly, shoulders notching down from their stiff state. He began speaking softly and Jack found himself relaxing. Daniel’s voice soothed him and gave him confidence that all would be well. He only listened partially to the words because they weren’t necessary. Jack knew the rules with first contact—allow Daniel full reign until the younger man was positive the native people were comfortable with them. Only after this point was Jack permitted to speak. It was standard operating procedure.

They journeyed for several kilometers this way, conversation never diverging from Daniel’s history lesson. Jack asked questions to fill in the spaces and Daniel answered them, perhaps with little enthusiasm, but at least they were speaking with each other. Jack’s confidence grew with each step. They would find their way out of the gray and into full color. It was only a matter of time.

Sam trod through the waist-high grass, uncharacteristically paying little mind to her environment. She and Teal’c hadn’t come across anything threatening and they were making excellent time. The naquadah deposits were only another kilometer away and they could gather the information she needed and head to the village, reaching it before nightfall.

Her thoughts wandered to the colonel and Daniel. Was their hike as quiet as her and Teal’c's? Sam didn’t know what to say to her companion, not an uncommon occurrence. Words seemed out of place with the big Jaffa, more being said with a tilt of the head and elevation of an eyebrow then a filibuster of pointless rambling. She thought his quiet manner at once comforting and disturbing. She wasn’t one to chatter, but she’d give her right arm for anything verbal right now.

“Major Carter.”

Sam jumped and bit back a screech. Okay, so wish granted. Her heart thumped spastically in her chest, startled by the abrupt interruption. She spun around to look at Teal’c. He had stopped several feet behind her and was standing like a statue, left hand raised a little, right grasping his staff weapon tightly. Uh oh.

“Teal’c?” she whispered.

“I do not believe we are alone,” Teal’c called mutedly, as though to prevent his words from being heard by someone other than her.

“What? How do you know…never mind,” Sam began. Teal’c's tracking skills were unquestionably keen. If he thought they had company, they likely did. “Daniel said the people were probably peaceful. Are there any signs to indicate he was incorrect?”

“Indeed. I believe we are, in fact, surrounded by Jaffa,” Teal’c returned grimly.

Shit. If Teal’c ‘believed’ anything, Sam was positive it had to be true. They were stuck wide out in the open, the grass providing no protection. The Jaffa probably already realized their presence was known and there was nowhere for she and Teal’c to hide. Sitting ducks in some twisted carnival game—twenty points for Teal’c, ten for her. Maybe if they pretended they didn’t know…

“Major Carter, do you see the grove of trees ahead of us?”

Sam turned back around and began walking slowly. She nodded carefully, resisting the urge to hoist her MP5 and shoot into the steppe all around them. That would only get them killed and therefore not an option. She had to warn the colonel and Daniel. All of a sudden, Teal’c began to sprint, grabbing her elbow as he passed her.

She ran, struggling to keep up with Teal’c. Their burst of speed finally resulted in movement behind them. Jaffa popped out of the grass and the duck game shifted into a bizarre version of a cheesy military training sequence in an action film, where cardboard targets sprang forth at random. Except these cardboard figures were shooting at them.

Breath rasping, Sam saw the blue sparks of zat guns flaming past them, some coming far too close to their mark. She stumbled slightly, buoyed instantly back up by Teal’c's strong arm. They weren’t going to make it, the trees were too far away yet. They would only provide limited cover anyway. There were too many attackers for the pair of them to handle. Shit. Fumbling with her radio, Sam switched it on, frantic to forewarn the colonel.

Her fingers hit upon the button and she screamed breathlessly into it, “Colonel!…Jaffa…surrounded…one…”

That was all she managed before one of the Jaffa hit their targets. Together, she and Teal’c crumpled, enveloped in the cold embrace of a zat blast.

Daniel was grateful for Jack’s random questions. He understood the true motivation behind the ongoing remarks, knew Jack wasn’t seeking information about the mission. Daniel had been disheartened by Jack’s unwillingness to talk in the locker room, but found that sick feeling diminishing. He even thought a glimmer of interest was forming inside himself for the mission at hand. As he expounded on Eastern culture and traditions, Daniel was getting lost in the history of it. He found himself prattling on and on, shooting sidelong glances at Jack as he went.

Jack appeared to need Daniel’s voice, if not his words. With the passage of time, the tight shoulders and face of his friend gradually eased. Good. If he could get Jack unwound a bit, maybe he could start the conversation he had planned for when the mission was over. No time like the present, and if Jack thought the time was right, Daniel should make good use of the opportunity. It was all or nothing with Jack. He opened his mouth to speak.

Their radios exploded to life, startling both men. Sam’s voice pummeled them, her words desperate and alarmed, “Colonel!…Jaffa…surrounded…one…”

A zat blast, followed by a muffled grunt sounded and then the transmission ended. Stunned, Daniel stared at Jack’s radio. Jaffa? Here? There had been no indication, no reason to believe the Goa’uld were here. Oh, this was not happening.

“Shit,” Jack swore, hand automatically traveling to his radio. He stopped himself before activating the device.

Daniel searched Jack’s face and understood the man’s hesitation. Communicating would only confirm their presence. They’d be of no use to Sam and Teal’c if they were captured as well. Daniel hoped his friends were captured and not…dead. He could see the exact same thoughts mirrored in Jack’s expression. Cronus’ departing words from the treaty filled his head suddenly. No mercy if caught on a Goa’uld planet. No mercy. Daniel’s stomach stirred brutally.

“Daniel. Daniel!” Jack’s harsh voice snapped him back into awareness.

What was he doing, zoning out when immediate action was needed? No wonder Jack thought him useless. Daniel shook his head. No. Not now.

“Sorry, Jack,” he mumbled.

“Whatever. You with me now?”

Daniel nodded, embarrassed to hear Jack speak to him slowly as if he were stupid.

“Okay, we head back to the ‘gate, contact the SGC and request back up. We don’t know what or whom we are dealing with here and I don’t want to be surprised. We wait for the back up and then look for Teal’c and Carter. My guess is they’ll be taken to the mines or to the village.”

Daniel nodded mutely again. He had somehow turned into one of those bauble headed dolls. Jack shot Daniel one more look, clasped his shoulders once and took off at a fast but stealthy jog. Daniel followed, easily matching strides with the older man. They were only halfway to the village and at this pace, Daniel guessed they’d get back to the ‘gate in about thirty minutes. He hoped their course of action wouldn’t cause his friends harm. Part of him wanted to just go find them, though he knew it would be foolish.

They neared the Stargate and Jack slowed down to a cautious trot. He held up a hand and Daniel stopped. Both of them eyed the clearing for signs of activity. Daniel was worried the Jaffa might have brought Sam and Teal’c to transport them through it. They could already be on some distant and unknown planet…but he couldn’t see anything to suggest that. Jack waved them forward, apparently reaching the same conclusion. They crouched behind the ritualistic boulders interspersed throughout the cleared area, slowing heading for the DHD.

Daniel hunched over the device and began to dial while Jack kept his eyes out for danger. He punched in three symbols before Jack hissed, grabbed him by the waist and hauled him down and away from the ‘gate. Loud voices and footsteps floated their way and Daniel fought back a gasp when he spotted the approaching entourage. Twenty Jaffa encompassed two unconscious figures strapped crudely to sturdy poles by their wrists and ankles, carried horizontally between several of the guards.

Sam. Teal’c.

Their heads flopped lifelessly as the Jaffa jumbled their prisoners thoughtlessly. To Daniel’s surprise and relief, the group did not stop at the ‘gate, sojourning past it toward the village. He sighed when it appeared he and Jack had not been discovered, but the sense of semi well being was short lived. He heard a Jaffa call out in alarm.

“Kree! Lem tok nokra!”

Crap. The symbols were still lighted on the DHD, as effective a give away as a flashing neon arrow pointed at them. The Jaffa carrying his friends dropped their loads unceremoniously and armed themselves, all of them now searching the area with wary eyes. Daniel sharply looked at Jack for direction. What the hell could they do? If they moved, they’d give away their position. If they didn’t, the Jaffa would find them anyway.

Jack flashed him signals to stay put while he distracted the Jaffa. Daniel could then go free Sam and Teal’c. Daniel fiercely shook his head. No. No way was Jack going to sacrifice himself, which is precisely what his friend had in mind. Did Jack really think Daniel couldn’t read him like a book, after four years together? Jack sighed silently. He grabbed Daniel’s right arm and squeezed it.

‘The only way,’ Jack mouthed, catching Daniel’s eyes with his own intense stare.

Daniel shook his head again, this time in resignation. Damnit. This would never work and they’d all get captured. He looked over to Sam and Teal’c's bound forms and thought he saw Teal’c moving. Jack squeezed his arm again, prompting him to turn toward him. Daniel nodded and Jack began to move away.

“Jaffa, kree!” a metallic voice resounded through the clearing.

Daniel and Jack froze. Goa’uld. They watched together as one of the Jaffa…First Prime?…withdrew a communications orb and studied it intently. The speaker on the other end was muffled and Daniel couldn’t totally make out the conversation. What he could catch was the Goa’uld ordering his Jaffa back to the village with the prisoners, to ignore the possibility of other trespassers for now.

Gathering up the two trussed up members of SG1, the Jaffa shot disgusted glares into the outlying area and stormed off. Daniel was perplexed. Why were they spared?

One thing he was sure of. It could only get worse.

They were leaving, but not all of them. A sizable contingent stayed behind to guard the ‘gate. Eight, Jack counted. They should be able to take them out, but Jack was torn between doing so and proceeding with his original plan or taking off after his downed teammates.

His decision was made for him as he saw the Jaffa fiddling with the DHD. They attached a small metallic box to the underside, pressed a button and backed away quickly. Jack could see some type of barrier encase the DHD. Damnit. Plan B it was. Satisfied their diversionary tactics would be successful, the eight Jaffa strode away without a backwards glance to rejoin the rest of the group. He and Daniel were left alone again.

Jack suddenly became aware he had clamped his hand on Daniel’s arm, either as a subconscious effort to keep the younger man at his side or a subconscious need to actually feel his presence. Daniel was staring at Jack’s white knuckled grip with a pained look on his face. Guess it wouldn’t hurt if Jack let up on some of the pressure. He released Daniel to run both hands across his eyes. Jack wondered if it was possible to get Daniel out of here. He didn’t want to have to worry about the younger man.

“What now, Jack?” Daniel questioned when the Jaffa were out of hearing range.

“We see if we can figure out what they did to the DHD and dial out as planned. You’ll go through to get back up and you’ll stay at the SGC…”

“No,” Daniel interrupted angrily, “I won’t. Not when Sam and Teal’c are in danger.”

Taking in the archaeologist’s stubborn set of jaw, Jack gave in. He had to try. “Right. Well, the point may be moot anyway. Without Carter, I doubt we’ll be able to crack that shield. Hell, even with her we’d have poor odds.”

Jack made one last search for Jaffa before moving toward the DHD. He snatched up a rock and chucked it at the pedestal, unsurprised when it bounced back at him at great velocity. He dodged the stone, cursing himself when he heard Daniel grunt behind him. Damnit. He swung around to find Daniel shooting virtual daggers at him and clutching his right thigh in discomfort.

“Sorry. Sorry! You all right?” Jack hastily asked.

“I’ll live. Just warn me next time you do something like that,” Daniel scowled and straightened. “Okay, we know personal shields work based upon the speed of the object being shot at them, right? This is probably unlikely, but do you think we can use your gun to dial out? If we push it slowly through the barrier, it should work.”

“Worth a shot.”

Lifting the strap over his head, Jack moved closer. He extended his automatic to the shield with trepidation. It couldn’t possibly be this easy. The gun hit the field and Jack’s arm suddenly felt like it was on fire. Hairs raised on the back of his neck and he could hear Daniel calling out to him, but he couldn’t move. The pain scored up his arm and across his chest like a boa constrictor, tightening with each breath. Daniel’s voice was getting distorted and deep, sounding almost Goa’uldish.

A sudden force propelled him away from the painful trap and he landed in a heap several feet away. The remaining air in his lungs gushed out and a heavy weight pinned his legs. Jack feebly tried to kick it off, fighting the haze attacking his vision. Legs were made of putty and wouldn’t move, uncooperative and limp.

With one last pitiful heave, Jack succumbed to darkness.

Upside down. Teal’c swayed left and right, dizzy from the unnatural position in which he was placed. Consciousness began to return to him some time ago, but he found it difficult to focus. Muffled voices entered his ears, though they were nonsensical. Due punishment? Torture of the captured to torture the uncaptured?

The words’ meaning came to him with unkind clarity. He and Major Carter were to become bait to aid in the capture of O’Neill and Daniel Jackson. Rage at the prospect surged through Teal’c's veins and he struggled at his bonds. He would not be a pawn in this game.

“Shol’va, kree!”

Teal’c was jostled harshly and a vicious kick caught him in the side. Eyes flying open from the pain, Teal’c spied Major Carter restrained in the same manner as he. She showed no signs of wakefulness, head hanging limply, body lax. Teal’c ceased his struggles for fear his actions would cause the Jaffa to turn on the young woman. Several more jabs to his ribs silenced the protests poised on his lips. He would submit now, but they would pay should any harm come to his companion.

Traveling in silence now, Teal’c kept his eyes to the perimeters. He thought perhaps they would come across the path O’Neill and Daniel had taken. The Jaffa were not demonstrating caution and Teal’c knew the team leader would become aware of their arrival long before he was discovered. There had to be some way to tell his friends not to come for them, not to witness their torture.

A spasm of regret corded through Teal’c. Death was acceptable for him, but he did not wish the same for Major Carter. The loss of a mere soldier was detrimental enough, but she was more than that—a brilliant mind capable of so much good. It had long been Teal’c's opinion that while he and O’Neill were expendable, Daniel Jackson and Major Carter should be protected at all costs. During the past weeks he had somehow lost sigh of this reality and had subsequently failed in his duty. He would make sure the focus of the upcoming events would be on him.

As they neared the village, the Jaffa called out for assistance. A mass of people thronged around them, removing the bindings from Teal’c's wrists and ankles, replacing them with human iron grips. Teal’c looked behind him to Major Carter. She stirred at last, eyes slitting open to determine their situation. When full consciousness returned, Major Carter started to wrest herself from her captors. Her attempts were quickly quelled by sharp blows to her face by the Jaffa.

Teal’c bit down on his lip at her mistreatment, still afraid that if he tried to help it would only harm. To his relief, she fought no longer, stunned by the slaps. Growling at the villagers restraining him, Teal’c endeavored to learn which Goa’uld occupied this planet. The markings on the Jaffa were oddly familiar, but not instantly recognizable. He could not remember. It was not important. They would find out soon enough.

They were dragged to a large pagoda shaped temple in the center of the village. A vast courtyard encircled the palace, littered with ornate sculptures and fountains. Daniel would be thrilled at the sight, though Teal’c was extremely glad his young friend was absent. He hoped once again that O’Neill wisely went through the Stargate. As he thought it, Teal’c realized how unlikely that to be. O’Neill would not leave them, even if it meant trading his life for theirs.

Major Carter groaned as they were dragged to the top of the stairs and forced to kneel. She looked at Teal’c, trying to communicate to him with her eyes. She wanted to know who had them. Teal’c shook his head minutely and turned to stare straight ahead.

“Well, well. What have we here?” a distant, deep voice rumbled in the enclave.

Reactively, Teal’c swiveled his head to the sound. Emerging from the dark shadows of the temple, with an air of superiority ingrained so completely in all Goa’uld, was Yu. Brilliant red robes swirled behind him as he made his grand appearance, coming to a stop only when he was a foot away from the kneeling pair.

“Shol’va. Tau’ri. Were you not warned of the consequences of being caught on a System Lord’s planet?” Yu spat jovially. “You will gain first hand experience shortly. But first you will tell me all you know of the Tau’ri defenses and the Tok’ra.”

The Goa’uld ran a small hand down the side of Major Carter’s face tenderly. She simply glared at Yu, lips pressed together firmly. The hand cupping her chin began ruthless in its grip. Teal’c flexed his muscles and clenched his own jaw when Major Carter was unable to withhold a wince of pain.

“Speak or you will know pain most unbearable!” Yu threatened.

“You’re going to kill us anyway,” Major Carter hissed. “Go to hell.”

“So be it. You will speak, but I can see it will take some persuasion. Place the woman in the box,” Yu ordered with a snap of his fingers. He turned to Teal’c. “Shol’va. The instrument of your demise will be far less pleasant. It is being constructed as I speak. I assure you, in minutes you will wish you never betrayed the Goa’uld.”

Teal’c said nothing as he and Major Carter were dragged back down the stairs to their fates.

Sam fought against the strong hands pulling her away from Teal’c. Yu laughed above them, taking great delight in their futile efforts. Sam observed Teal’c being hauled to a large wooden pole and noticed a shorter crossbeam being secured near the bottom of the post. It looked like…oh God…it was shaped like an upside down cruciform.

Teal’c saw the contraption and tried to dig his heels into the ground. Jaffa buried their fists in his stomach severely, doubling him over with agony Sam could only imagine. Her guards easily kept her in place as four Jaffa pivoted Teal’c's head downward. They removed his boots before fastening him to the cross with heavy wires. Sam could see the binding cutting into his flesh even through his socks.

“Stop! Don’t…” she screamed, unable to remain passive at her friend’s torture.

“Silence!” Yu yelled from his perch at the temple entrance. “The Shol’va will receive punishment fitting his crime. You will as well.”

Tearing her eyes momentarily from Teal’c, Sam glowered at the smug Goa’uld. She knew she would be dead before Yu could gain any information from her, no matter how hard he tried. Teal’c would not tell him anything either.

“You might as well kill us now. We won’t tell you anything,” Sam called irrationally, losing her military cool.

“What would be the delight in that? No, if you do not reveal your knowledge to me, I will at least have the satisfaction of seeing you writhe. And so will the rest of the System Lords and your friends still on this planet. I will record your pitiful deaths for all to see,” Yu taunted her and pulled out a flashing globe. “You will beg for your lives.”

“Don’t count on it,” Sam muttered inaudibly.

Friends? The colonel and Daniel…No! They were out there somewhere, possibly watching them right now. Sam wasn’t going to count on the colonel to do the sensible thing and get the hell off the planet. He probably wouldn’t even call for back up before coming after them—his greatest strength and weakness was his dedication to his team. Sam only hoped Daniel could talk some sense into him.

A snarl from Teal’c pulled her attention back to him. He was fully strung up now, thick wires biting into his wrists as well. Blood streaked down his legs and soaked his pants, turning the olive into deep brown. His eyes were open and focused on her, sparking ferocious strength in her direction.

“Teal’c,” Sam whispered, though she knew he could not hear her.

How long could he last like that? Sam didn’t know if his larvae would protect him from this type of torture. It could work wonders, but could it save him now? Chances are if he could hold out for a couple of hours, the colonel and Daniel would arrive. Sam flinched a bitter smile. Yes, the colonel and Daniel would arrive.

Teal’c nodded to her as if he could read her thoughts. Only when she received that reassurance did she wonder what Yu had in mind for her. He mentioned something about a box…that didn’t sound so bad.

The Jaffa towed her toward a large metal structure about twenty-five feet from Teal’c. It was raised on poles and encompassed by a man made moat of sorts, though it was empty. The only openings she could identify were the door and small air holes lining the top edge of the rectangular building. Sam peered up at the bright sun and back to the prison and she knew.

She would roast in there. No food, no water. She’d be delirious in a day. Delirious enough to give in to Yu’s questions?

Sam chewed her lip in frustration. No way. No way would she allow herself to reach that point. If the colonel didn’t come for them by nightfall, she would find a way to stop Yu from succeeding. Teal’c would, too.

She was twisted around, hands bound tightly in front of her. The Jaffa shoved her up the short ladder and threw her brusquely into the prison, slamming the door shut with finality. Sam landed with a thud on the far wall of the box, wind knocked out of her. Lungs frantically sucking for air, Sam sagged on the floor and began trying to loosen her bonds.

Obsequy
by Carrie

Part One: Pain and Rage

“He’s okay out there, Carter. Trust me, he’s happy. Much better off than if Jacob had partially healed him.”

Goddamnit, if I hear those words one more time from one more person, I’m going to lose it. Trite, meaningless platitudes intended to help but they only add to the wounds. The numbness of shock is gone, replaced with hurt. I ache. So much and so deeply I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get over it. Never. There’s a hole still in me from so many losses—Mom, Martouf, Narim… This is another, and I’m not certain now the hole isn’t bigger than the solid part of me. Happy. Better.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, walking from him. I need to not be here. In this place that killed my friend and tore my heart out yet again. “I know.”

“Carter…”

“I’m fine, sir. I’m going home, if that’s okay,” I lie. I can’t go there, not yet. My home is my refuge away from the craziness of life at the SGC, but it can’t give me the hug I so desperately need. My friend Daniel is dead. Dead. Unthinkable. Wrong.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, sir.” I won’t.

The colonel clears his throat uncomfortably as I get further down the hall. I know he must be hurting as much as me. Hesitating for a moment, I turn around to find him gone from sight. I don’t know how he does it sometimes; how he manages to handle everything and make it look as though he isn’t feeling much of anything at all. Sometimes I wonder if he actually *isn’t* feeling anything. That can’t be right. It can’t. It isn’t. The colonel was at his full-guns-blazing best trying to clear Daniel’s name just a few hours ago. This new deficit of emotion is so contradictory to that, I can’t understand. Daniel could explain it to me. God, Daniel. I have to leave now as the hurt manifests itself, bile burning up into my throat.

Swallowing the bitterness, I stumble onto the elevator and try to contain my emotions. Be the good little soldier I know people expect me to be as much as I expect it from myself. Only with Janet, Cassie and Daniel…Daniel. How the hell am I supposed to get over this?

I manage past all the checkpoints but as I climb into my car the tears break free. Damnit, I can’t even make it out of the fucking parking lot. I savagely wipe my face dry and blink rapidly in a vain attempt to prevent new tears from forming. Choking in a raspy breath, I start the car with a shaky hand and leave the cold grayness of the mountain behind and drive. I have no idea where I’m going, the rhythm of the wheels soothing me. Like when I was a baby, according to my father. But it’s not enough to ease the pain and emptiness, merely cloak it in minor, artificial comfort.

What I need right now is the one thing I can’t have. I keep seeing Daniel over and over, unconscious and unrecognizable beneath all those bandages. Each image becomes more and more clear, crystallizing indelibly in my mind. Trapped forever. I don’t even know if he heard me when I said my goodbye, tried to tell him how much I love him. Tears well hotly again, the road blurs in front of me and I know my knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Static in my ears transmutes into the wail of a siren. Reflexively, I check my rear view mirror and spot the cherries of a Colorado Springs police car flashing furiously at me. I slow and pull over to allow it to pass me, taking the granted moment to rub my hands down my face.

The siren has stopped; it didn’t whiz by me in pursuit of some delinquent driver. Confused, I look in the rear view mirror again to see the cop has pulled me over. Shit. Could this day get any worse at all? For some not too surprising reason, I start crying again as I roll down my window. I know the cop is going to think I’m just trying to get out of the ticket I’m about to get for the offense I didn’t realize I was committing. How I wish that were the case.

“Do you know why I stopped you, ma’am?” the startlingly young looking police officer asks as he leans down to peer in at me.

“To be honest, no,” I tiredly sigh, brushing away an errant tear. Now that he’s here, the waterworks thankfully dry up.

“You were going about twenty miles per hour below the speed limit. Pretty much everyone has been passing you and honking. You’re telling me you didn’t notice that?”

I blink and fight the urge to giggle my head off. Daniel always thinks…thought he couldn’t keep anyone’s attention and here he’s making me oblivious to everything even though he’s not here. The laughter sucks right out of me; the void grows. Staring up into the concerned face of the cop, I shake my head. It’s all I can do.

“Are you all right, ma’am?”

Snorting, I find my voice at last, hiccups of pain included. “Not even close. B-bad day. Really…bad.”

“I can see that. You look like my little girl after I told her the family dog died,” he comments conversationally. “I’ll just give you a warning. Get where you’re going and take it easy, okay?”

Oh, God. Bile rises again. I frantically undo my seatbelt and lunge for the door handle in one motion. Slamming shoulders with the officer, I stumble around my car and vomit all over the side of the road. There’s not much in my stomach, dry heaves comprising most of the violent action that doesn’t want to stop. I fall to my knees, wishing the purging went soul deep. The ache is still with me, worming through every ounce of my body and mind.

A tissue floats in front of my face hauntingly, like a ghost. Batting at it to make it go away, I’m thwarted by the police officer squatting down next to me. I snatch it and brush my lips, closing my eyes to block out the concern of a complete stranger. He won’t go away, now upping his involvement by patting my back in an awkward circle.

“Hey, are you okay now?”

This guy is brilliant. I bleat out a sobbing laugh and look to him at last. The kindness of his face stills the ungratefulness roiling in me and I nod. “I’m fine. Really. I’ll get myself in c-control in a minute and be on my way.”

“I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“You didn’t. I just…” I swallow loudly. I don’t know if I should say it. I don’t know if I can. I can’t pretend or hide from it forever, and maybe saying it will help. “I lost a very good fr-friend of mine today.”

The words don’t have the healing touch I’d hoped for, hanging almost visibly in the air around me as though I’ve blasphemed Daniel in some way. It’s silly and unfounded, but I can’t ignore the betrayal. My friend Daniel is really gone. Gasping, I struggle to my feet.

“I’m so sorry. God, no wonder you reacted the way you did. Where are you headed? I’ll give you an escort, just to be on the safe side,” the cop offers, voice taking on the thick, sympathetic tone I was partially running from.

“That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

“Ma’am, I insist. You may not want to hear this, but you’re in no shape for driving.”

“1152 Mainland Street,” I blurt. That’s where I need to go.

“I know just where that is,” he says warmly, giving me an assessing look. I apparently don’t meet up to his standards, as he shakes his head. “Can you leave your car here? I can have another officer pick it up and drop it off at that address.”

Crinkling my eyebrows, I stare at him suspiciously and catch my reflection in his dark green eyes. Even the tiny images are enough for me to see I look like hell, a madwoman on the run from something big and scary. It shocks me enough to agree with him. Numbly walking back to my driver’s seat, I switch off the still-running car and hand him the keys. He takes them without a word, leading me to the back of his squad car. I panic for a second, wondering if he’s really going to cart me off to some hospital’s psych ward.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”

Relaxing into the seat, I close my eyes again and snap them open when Daniel’s bandaged face makes its scheduled reappearance. I stare unblinkingly at a crack in the glass divider between me and the friendly police officer, eyes drying as a result of my avoidance measures. He doesn’t say a thing for the entire twenty minute drive, though on several occasions I catch him surveying me worriedly. I try to smile and fail.

We pull to a stop outside the apartment building, a wave of doubt flushing coldly through me. This can only make it worse. My door opens with a gust of cool air, and I start. Quickly regaining my composure, I step out of the car.

“Thank you, uh, what’s your name?”

“Brian.”

“Thank you, Brian.”

“If you’ll tell me the apartment number, I’ll have the officer ring you when she comes with your car.”

“Oh, uh…eight—three.”

“Okay. You take care of yourself now,” Brian clumsily says. I hear the words he doesn’t say. *Your friend wouldn’t want you to be in pain. Live for him.*

I nod at the spoken and unspoken messages, but I can’t help the way I feel. It’s too soon. It’ll always be too soon. Life will go on. Duty will call. I will function again. But the pain will never lessen. I can’t let it, can’t forget the reason for the pain. Can’t forget Daniel.

“I will. Thank you again,” I murmur and turn to face the challenge I’ve set up for myself.

The building looms above me as I tilt my head to locate the apartment from the outside, seeming to sway sickeningly. I can do this. I have to do this. I take the first step, through the door and past the doorman. He frowns at me, likely aware Daniel’s not home right now. God, and he never will be again. I can do this. The doorman doesn’t stop me, apparently comfortable enough in his recognition of me to let me up.

Depositing me on the eighth floor, the elevator opens with a despondent wheeze so representative of the state I’m in I answer it with a low moan. Even before I reach the door, it feels as though I’m invading where I have no business being; an uninvited visitor. I push past my unease and slip the key into the lock. I’ve never felt unwelcome in Daniel’s home. Rather, it’s been a haven of comfort for me. I hope that still holds true. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what that’ll do to me; my need is so great.

Pushing into the empty apartment, I’m overwhelmed by the feel of Daniel clinging to every square inch of the place. He’s in every book, every artifact. He’s in the air. I relax into the sensation, relief flowing. I’m okay here. Plopping my keys down on the counter, I step into his living room area and simply take in all it offers. I make a slow circle of the room, touching everything as if to confirm the reality and solidity of it all. And for a minute, the therapy works.

Only a minute, then the pain returns as intensely as ever. Daniel’s things are here. He’s not. The reality and solidity of that fact assaults me and reverses the small amount of comfort I’ve just managed to glean. This is real. Daniel’s gone and he’s not coming back. Damnit.

Suddenly, I’m angry. Storming to Daniel’s couch, I snatch up a pillow and fling it across the room. Unsatisfied by the dull thump it makes when it hits the wall, I stomp into the kitchen and knock down his pots and pans, reveling in the clatter they make as they crash onto the floor. Rage feels good. I’m mad at everyone. Oma Desala for not just healing Daniel. Myself for not being able to do anything. The colonel. Teal’c. General Hammond. Damnit, I’m even mad at Daniel. How could he? How could he choose to leave us? To leave me? Grief is a selfish beast, rearing its ugly head to eat away at my insides.

“Damn you, Daniel. I really hate you, you know that?” I whisper, a lump in my throat nearly blocking my voice. As soon as the words cross my lips, I’m ashamed. “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I don’t. I don’t hate you.”

Staring at the carnage I’ve inflicted on the hapless cookware, I blink back tears again. The volley of emotions playing out inside me is unbearable, the sight of my loss of control unacceptable. I shuffle from the kitchen, making my way to yet another room in the apartment. It’s here. What I need is here; I just have to find it.

The bedroom door is ajar. I nudge it open with my foot and poke my head in. Oddly disappointed when I find the room unoccupied, I enter it and look numbly around. More so than the rest of Daniel’s home, his bedroom carries his spirit. I can’t count the number of times he’s let me sleep in his bed while he crammed onto his sofa. The best sleep in Colorado Springs, he always says…said. Damnit. He was right.

I tiptoe deeper into the room, not sure why I’m being so cautious. Reaching his stereo system, I finger the knobs and buttons and move my gaze down to his CD collection. Though I’ve looked through it countless times, the voyeuristic feeling comes back. Turning away, I catch sight of several plain jewel boxes. I’ve never seen them before, and curiosity wins. I pull them out and find a woman’s flowing handwriting decorating the stark white covers, red ink vibrant and strong.

Cassie’s. There are only three, labeled ‘Pain and Rage’, ‘Melancholy and Solace’ and ‘Truth’. She must have burned these for Daniel. Embarrassed, I shove them back in their slots, watching as a piece of paper floats slowly to the floor. The message springs out at me.

Daniel, you’ve broadened my musical horizons! Thank you for the CD—I love it. I’ve made some of my own for you. Hope you find them as helpful as I have! Music is the best soul soother in the world, isn’t it?

Luv, Cass

The lighthearted words are a knife to my already torn insides, blurring before my eyes. Cassie. I haven’t even thought what this will do to her. Even as the belligerence of being a teenager rises, I still see the tender spirit within her. I wonder if Daniel fully realized just how many people would miss him; how many people’s lives he impacted. The ache surges, and Cassie’s words return. Music is the best soul soother.

I can’t decide which to listen to, so I put them all in Daniel’s player and start with ‘Pain and Rage’. An agonized voice blares out of the stereo, cutting straight through me and yet I find it strangely comforting. Rubbing my runny nose with the back of my hand, I gently slip the note in between the CD cases and stumble to the bed. Collapsing onto it, the smell of Daniel fills my nose as the feel of soft cotton embraces me. I wrap myself around a pillow and in the comforter and listen to the music flow through the room. It mirrors my pain.

Enveloped in my own misery, I barely register the words as each song blends together. I’m only attuned to the anguish being shared until a soft, plaintive guitar snares my attention. It segues to an ethereal but crystalline voice that speaks directly to me, issuing a gently fierce warning.

Hold on, hold on to yourself, for this is going to hurt like hell.
Hold on, hold on to yourself—you know that only time can tell.
What is it in me that refuses to believe?
This isn’t easier than the real thing.

I sob openly, allowing the tears that had sporadically threatened all day to finally unleash with all their torment. I know Daniel’s not dead, dead. I know better than anyone exactly what his ascension truly is. But that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s unfair to stay in this realm of misery and grief, both to Daniel and to everyone else. I understand that, but I can’t move past it. I want my friend back.

Hold on, hold on to yourself, for this is going to hurt like hell.

Oh God, I miss Daniel.

Part Two: Melancholy and Solace

My attempts to achieve Kel No’reem in the scant hours since Daniel Jackson’s…transformation have met with complete failure. I am pleased my friend is not dead, though in truth I feel his absence as keenly as if he were. Nothing could have readied me for the feelings coursing through me now, even self-preparation for an event precisely such as this. For five years I have served at the sides of the Tau’ri, a valiant but so fragile species. Death could have occurred on any number of missions. I knew this, accepted the likelihood it would one day come to pass for one or more of my friends.

Now it has, and I do not know what to do.

When a loss breaks through strict emotional discipline, it is customary for a Jaffa to retreat into seclusion for a period of time, to use the solitude as a means to rein in feelings and regain control. I find myself at once needing to be alone and to locate Major Carter. Of my friends, it is she whom I believe feels Daniel Jackson’s loss at a level equal to my own. Greater, even, for she lacks even the modest regulation of emotion my training has allowed. She has experienced much pain in the past several years, and I fear this will only serve to shatter her.

Rising from the floor, I quickly extinguish my candles, collect a hat and jacket, and depart my quarters. On the other side of the door, I find O’Neill standing poised to knock, left hand raised in a loose fist. At my appearance, his hand drops aimlessly to his side and neither of us speak for long moments. His face is impassive, eyes as unreadable as I am struggling to make mine.

It has been difficult of late to understand O’Neill, particularly when regarding his relationship with Daniel Jackson. I know the two to be friends, yet there have been occasions in recent history in which there has been no indication from either man such a bond exists. If I place myself in the shoes of an outside observer, I would find it difficult to believe there is even a remote kinship between them. It has been a source of concern for some time, and it makes O’Neill’s distance now all the more troubling.

“Goin’ somewhere?” O’Neill speaks at last, his voice gruff and loud in the silence. He points to the jacket I have balled in my fist.

“I am.”

“Where?” As he asks, I realize I do not know. Major Carter may still be at the SGC. “A night on the town?”

His words are lightly spoken, inappropriately so in my mind. He cannot really mean the words as a suggestion on how to deal with the death of a friend, though I sense that this is somewhat the case. He wishes to forget. I do not.

“No.”

“Well, ah, okay then,” O’Neill awkwardly fumbles, taking a step away from me. “I think I’ll just go home, too.”

Before I can register what he has said, he is retreating. Frowning at O’Neill’s slumped shoulders, I wonder if perhaps I have misjudged him. His actions to aid Daniel Jackson’s reputation spoke of great emotion, but I cannot glimpse any of that now. It cannot have disappeared completely, and have a brief insight that perhaps I should follow O’Neill to ensure his well-being. I shake my head, uncertain yet again on what my course of action should be. No course of action, in going to Major Carter or O’Neill, will truly change anything. I allow my feet to lead, to take me to the elevator and out of the mountain while my brain contributes nothing to the journey. The briskness of cool evening air awakens me enough to realize I cannot leave the facility alone. Cannot walk to Major Carter’s home, where I now know she is.

I go back inside and ask the guard to arrange transportation, which he does only after confirming with General Hammond that my departure is acceptable. Grateful General Hammond does not question my intentions, I climb into the military jeep provided as my coach and supply the driver with the address. I gaze out the window as we travel, feel the chill of air seeping into the jeep through poorly constructed windows and doors. It fills me, replaces all my warmth. Here, I am not alone, yet am more alone than I have ever been. And the solitude does not fulfill its purpose, does not allow me control, instead turning on me with vengeance.

Daniel Jackson is gone.

It is as though I am only now realizing this, and my emotions plummet from the strange disbelief I have unknowingly been in to utter, wretched misery. This is not right. Isolation is supposed to give me strength, not weakness. Slowing my breaths, I transfer my gaze up into the dusky sky, to the spattering of stars painting the deepening blue canvas. They give me no comfort. There is no comfort in loneliness.

“Please stop the vehicle,” I murmur.

“Sir?”

“Please. Stop the vehicle,” I repeat with more conviction, and the driver responds immediately by veering onto the road’s shoulder and allowing the jeep to idle.

I climb out, continuing to stare at the stars as if they have counsel to bestow. I know they do not. Inhaling the scents of coniferous trees, dust and exhaust fumes swirled into an almost nauseating conglomeration, I fight to swallow down the unexpected voracity of my sadness. In Daniel Jackson, I saw strength of which I can only hope to one day achieve. When confronted with darkness, he fought past it for the good of the many. For the good of me, even. I have been unable to battle my own dark demons with such proficiency, a fact that shames me now. Much was to be learned from my friend, so much more could have been. There is nothing but emptiness in me, a void created simply by understanding the depth of this loss.

I need to fill it. I want Daniel Jackson back to guide me. I might never receive either of these desires, and know they are selfish in nature. Knowing, however, does not make them less legitimate or less intense. I want to bellow into the darkness closing in around me now, fill the hole with noise that will accomplish nothing, save an insignificant amount of false relief. Suddenly I know there is only one thing that will come even close to fulfilling my need.

“Sir? Are you all right out there?”

The voice startles me and I realize I have not moved more than one pace from the open automobile door, am actually leaning on it as if I require its support. The answer to the question would likely prompt the airman to return to the SGC, or at the very least make an attempt. I am not all right, but going back will not alleviate the problem. Going back is no longer even possible.

“I am fine,” I inform him as I return to my seat.

I give him the new location to which he is to take me, internally apologizing to Major Carter for choosing to forego aiding her in favor of selfishly assuaging my own needs. I do not think she will hold me in contempt, and I know that to better help my friend I must first come to terms with my own feelings. I fear what I will find in myself as much as I anticipate it, but am nearly certain what I seek will truly be found in the place I now know I need to be. Daniel Jackson may yet be able to assist me. A new sense of calm comes over me, easing the hollowness to a more tolerable level. Nevertheless, it remains. Clearing my mind of everything, I stare out the windshield blindly. I see nothing of the houses and cars I know are passing by until the jeep turns the final corner.

My eyes instantly lock onto it, and any doubts fade. Major Carter’s car is parked in front of the apartment building. I manage the barest trace of a smile at our like-mindedness. I should have anticipated she would seek comfort here as I do, even if that comfort is different for each of us.

Thanking the airman, I instruct him to leave and am through the entrance of the building before he travels ten feet. The elevators are consistently slow, so I simply walk by the doorman to the stairs. He does not say a word to stop me. My sense of urgency is startling; it is as though I am driven by an outside influence that is telling me to hurry. As I enter the apartment, I begin to understand a bit more. I feel Daniel Jackson’s presence here, and the feeling of emptiness filled. Though we were fortunate to know him as more than a scientist and co-worker, I believe there was always something he withheld from us. In visiting his home when he was present, I saw a little bit more of his true self and that existence somehow cushions me now.

Until I come upon disorder I know has not been wrought by Daniel Jackson’s hands.

Pots and pans, once hanging, are now strewn haphazardly on the kitchen floor. Evidence of Major Carter’s presence, and her state of mind. Bereft and forlorn after a violent assault, the utensils portray my own inner feelings precisely. I am suddenly compelled to straighten them. I must. Their appearance is upsetting to me, causing the emptiness to return and then mutate into something more massive and unnamable. I work with feverish efficiency, snuff out my rising feelings of distress with every implement I put back into place. Halfway through my task, I understand the irrationality of my actions and I stop to simply stare at the remaining scattered pans. Making everything appear all right on the surface will not dissolve the reality that everything is not.

I am tempted to bat at the newly righted pots, scuttle them once again onto the floor. I raise my arm, ready to give into the impulse when I hear it and remember. Soft, heart wrenching music floats toward me. I am not alone. Destruction will not help either, and it is not the reason I am here. I must find Major Carter. I already know where she is. Following the music, I climb the stairs and prod the already open bedroom door further back. The only light comes from the CD player, casting a greenish tint over the contents of the room.

I now hear shuddery breaths accompanying the music, the breaths of someone in intense pain. I hesitate for a moment, knowing Major Carter has come here in search of solitude, much as I have. But there is no comfort in loneliness, I needlessly remind myself. I take a step into the room, closing the door so a mere crack of light cuts into the dark. She is shrouded in Daniel Jackson’s bed, and I do not believe she is aware of my presence. Her sobs break through my own wall of misery, and I know I must help her. I do not know how. Around us, the music swells both melancholic and strangely soothing, guiding me.

One part of me just wants to tell you everything;
one part just needs the quiet.
And if I’m lonely here, I’m lonely here.
And on the telephone, you offer reassurance.

I walk to the bed and sit next to the huddled figure, sense Major Carter stiffening. Saying nothing, I wait for her to make the first move. If she pushes me away, I will honor her wishes on this day and offer succor only when she is ready to receive it. For her sake as well as my own, I hope she will accept it now. I came here seeking aloneness but I need more. I need her.

“Teal’c?” Her voice is tear-thickened and heavy.

“Yes,” I simply state, the music again voicing what I wish to say. Does she hear it, too?

How can I hold the part of me that only you can carry?
It needs a strength I haven’t found,
but if it’s frightening, I’ll bear the cold.
And on the telephone, you offer warm asylum.

“Please…”

I fear she is asking me to go but I do not move, instead let my hand fall upon her leg. Giving it a slight squeeze, I rest it there. There are faint reverberations running through her and into my hand, muted by the thick comforter she is swathed in but still very evident. She has been here a long time, suffering so much. Any words I may say will not truly help, so I do not speak.

“Teal’c, I… I want it to go away,” she brokenly says, shifting around and withdrawing her leg from my grasp. I feel its loss instantly, feel the emptiness grow again. “Will it?”

Uncertain what she is really asking, I do not know what to say. Major Carter is an intelligent woman, she knows the pain will not fade soon, if ever. If she is asking me to lie to her, I cannot. “You know it will not, Major Carter.”

“Oh, God. I know, I know.”

Her voice is more muffled now, as though she has her face buried in the pillow. Seeking artificial comfort there? Not artificial at all. I feel Daniel Jackson in this room more potently than any other place in his apartment, perhaps because it is so intimate. We cannot continue to draw comfort from objects and things that were his, as the memories contained here will blur and fade. The real source of solace will come from each other. With this knowledge, I feel my melancholy dissipating. Our friend would not want us to become isolated from each other because of him. The music fills the air when neither of us speak, stronger now and more certain.

To crawl inside the wire and feel something near me,
to feel this accepting that it is lonely here, but not alone.
And on the telephone, you offer visions dancing.

Quickly removing my boots, I hesitantly crawl onto the bed and take up position directly behind Major Carter. I do not know how she will react to my sudden need for tactile reassurance, but I cannot stop. She freezes momentarily as I wrap an arm around her and draw her closer to me, and then relaxes with another quaking breath.

“Teal’c,” she murmurs as she swiftly rolls over and into my embrace, her face tucked into the crook of my neck. Her breath and tears warm my skin and chill my heart. It pains me greatly to view her in such pain and I wish I could do more. “Thank you.”

“It will be all right,” I whisper, wishing I could make it so immediately.

But I know I have done all I can for the moment, and my heart warms again. I rub her back in a slow massage, truly believing my own words for the first time—things will be all right. Together, we can weather this storm. Together…

And amidst the support I have finally gleaned for myself and for Major Carter I realize we are not only missing Daniel Jackson here; my mind wanders to O’Neill. I automatically lift my head as if he is here with us, though I know otherwise. To my surprise, I see a shadow stretching into the room and I know it is indeed him standing on the other side of the door. His pain is palpable even from a distance as he stands silently, watching Major Carter and me. He makes no move to enter and I rest my head on the bed again, closing my eyes.

I wonder if he will one day be able to change his path from that of evasion to seek comfort from those who wish and need to provide it. I know O’Neill cannot be urged to do so, by myself or anyone else. It is a passage he has chosen to take on his own and while it pains me to see it and take no action, I must.

As he allowed Daniel Jackson to continue on his journey.

Part Three: Truth

Carter walks away from me, and it’s easy to let her go. Easy to believe what I’ve told her is the God’s honest truth. And it is the truth; Daniel is better off now, wherever he is, than he would be had he stayed. I know that. She knows it, too. But I’ve got something in my throat I can’t quite identify, a lump large enough I feel the need to expunge it. I gruffly clear my throat, which doesn’t remove the blockage and I know it will only bring Carter’s attention back to me so I run before she turns around.

I’m feeling surprisingly little pain in light of what’s gone down, and I hope I can blame residual shock for that. Because if I can’t I really have turned into a cold-hearted bastard. A friend is gone; I need to do something. To feel something.

Hammond, Fraiser and I were in a meeting for hours to discuss Daniel and what the hell to do with that yutz Jonas. I know it was the right call to spare Carter and Teal’c that terribly quick segue into ‘normal’ life, yet I wonder now if I simply couldn’t bring myself to face them. Either way, I’m all alone and wandering now. Alone by my own design? The thought makes me stop dead in my tracks. Poor turn of phrase, that. I swipe a hand across my mouth and look up and down the corridor to witness random airmen’s eyes instantly averting to avoid my perusal. The thing in my throat becomes so big it feels as though it’s bursting right through my windpipe.

I can’t be alone anymore. I can’t. Without realizing it, I’m walking again and my movements feel mechanically stilted. It takes my brain a while to catch up with my feet, then I know precisely where I’m going. If anyone can help me, he can. With new purpose, I navigate through the levels and corridors until I’m standing in front of Teal’c's door. Raising my hand to pound on it, I realize I don’t even know if he’s in there. My fist slackens as the door pops open, almost as if it and the room’s occupant are intuitively answering my question. Teal’c stares down at me, and I see he’s got a jacket in his hand.

“Goin’ somewhere?” I ask, thinking ‘Please don’t be.’

“I am.”

“Where? A night on the town?”

Oh, God. Did I just say that? What the fuck is wrong with me? Teal’c veritably glowers, fury terrible and hard in his eyes for a flash before they calm back down to neutrality. There is something so very wrong here.

“No,” he snaps, grim and incredibly final. Conversation, if it can be called that, is over.

“Well, ah, okay then. I think I’ll just go home, too,” I stutter and run away from him.

Funny, I seem to be doing a lot of that. For a guy complaining about being alone, I’m doing a crackerjack job of putting myself in exactly that position. I should go home, but I can’t just yet. Not until my throat opens wide enough for me to pour as much alcohol down it as is humanly possible. Feel something. That’s where this all started. I need to do something to feel something. Maybe that something is to go home and get drunk. But I don’t. Instead, I roam around, barely aware of the personnel scattering like flies at my approach. Barely aware, and completely cognizant of what that means. My feet have again developed a mind of their own, taking me to a place I don’t think I really want to be.

I’m at Daniel’s office, and for the briefest of seconds I swear I see him bending over his desk. It’s so vivid I can see the concentration lines on his forehead. Oh, shit. Hallucinating is bad. I bark out a laugh I know might be viewed as wholly inappropriate, but hell, that’s been my middle name lately. So I just let it out and walk into the late Doctor Daniel Jackson’s office. No, not late, I correct myself. Ascended. Better. Okay. It suddenly feels as though those two choices are exactly the same. For all intents and purposes, he is dead and gone.

Daniel. Gone. Gone?

Oh, I’m feeling it now, in the biggest, nastiest of ways. Shakily staggering to the desk, I sink into the chair before my legs give out. Daniel. I know why I’m here, in this place, and I was right. I *don’t* want to be here, searching for fragments of a friend I only just let go. Bits and pieces to hang onto when it’s already over and done with and far, far too late. I know it is, but I can’t keep myself from wanting to uselessly cling to the physical representations that are all that is left of Daniel. His coffee cup. Artifacts I don’t understand or care about. A stub of a pencil, eraser gone. Worthless.

He came to me, asked me to let him go. And I did and it was such a fucking hard thing to do. So hard and so terribly easy to let him walk right out of our lives. These conflictions I’m feeling are tearing me apart inside. Constant fluctuations of yes and no, right and wrong, truth and lies. Where does it end? Will it ever?

It occurs to me now that I should have argued with Daniel more, tried to convince him how much we need him. I didn’t. I just fucking let him go. Me. I did it. Alone. No, not alone. Another contradiction. As simple as it was for me to let him go, convince myself it was for the best, Daniel seemed to have made his decision without difficulty. I don’t understand how it was so easy for him, after hearing Carter pour her heart out into a huge puddle on the floor and Teal’c speaking with depth of feeling he’s never shown concerning anyone else. How could a person hear those things, understand what his loss would do to friends, and still choose to go when there was another option?

‘Why do you care?’

And there it is. The question should have taken me aback, but all it did was remind me Daniel’s condition was unchangeable. About the futility of trying to fix mistakes and misinterpretations that had been happening for months, to smooth over mountainous bumps in a friendship as a last ditch effort in a man’s dying hours. I knew the instant he said that it was far too late for that, and for pretending I didn’t know what the question actually meant. So I told him I thought I’d come to admire him a little. A little. I thought the fact I’d been scrambling and working so hard to clear his good name should have been enough for him to realize, that words weren’t necessary. And in verbally downplaying the truth, I made his choice easy.

The truth is that I’ve always admired Daniel, even if we’ve never, ever seen eye to eye on any given issue. The truth is the bumps in the friendship were only there because I became better at disguising my feelings behind a mask of seeming insensitivity. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t understand the feelings were still there, didn’t look beneath the surface to realize that where it counted nothing had changed. Not really. It is my fault for seeing him take everything I said the wrong way and letting it fester to the point he believed we were no longer friends. That my friendship wasn’t worthy of effort.

I let Daniel go long before he asked me to do it.

I don’t have a clue why I didn’t stop it when I had the option. Sitting here in this cluttered but so barren office, I suddenly wish I could turn back time. Not a day or a few hours. Years. It wouldn’t have taken much overall effort on my part—a smile here, a touch to the shoulder there, a ‘you did good, Daniel’ every once in a while. Just enough to make the outcome of today different. I laugh at my ridiculousness and about a million clichs come to mind, the most notable being that hindsight is twenty-twenty.

I’m not stupid; I know there’s nothing for me here, no comfort to be drawn from anything in this office. This stuff doesn’t contain even a glimmer of the Daniel I want. A couple of years ago, I might have said this was the only place on Earth where Daniel was able to find any sort of happiness. I don’t think that’s been reality for a while. Maybe that’s why I feel wrong here. The thing is, I have no idea where else to go. Or why. Why all of a sudden I feel the need to say out loud what I should have told Daniel before. Like I’ll magically feel all better about his absence and my own part in it, even though I knew if I had said it, told him why and how much I cared, it still wouldn’t have made a difference. I’m pretty sure he knew, anyway, but I can’t be entirely certain.

He knew how Carter and Teal’c feel and still made his choice; does it really matter if I don’t say it?

It matters, and it’s really irrelevant where I do it. Yet I just can’t spend one more minute in this godforsaken mountain that has sucked so much more out of my life than I care to think about. Home is where the heart is; I’ll go there. Leaving the office, though, my throat is as tight as ever, constricting like a boa and burning like a raging forest fire. I’m beginning to realize why. This is all so wrong, and I’m still so very alone. I lean up against the wall for a second, close my eyes. Home is where the heart is. Not my home. Someone else’s…maybe. Forcing my feet to move, I make my way up to the surface, and once I’m in my car I know exactly where I’m going. I drive, put myself on automatic pilot because I know the route so well.

The nearer I get, the more closed off my throat becomes. That’s not right. The opposite should be occurring as I approach the means to alleviate that very real pain. Then I see Carter’s car, parked right in front of the building and it’s a warning beacon. The base instinct I’ve been following for hours kicks in, and I can’t help but think now maybe I shouldn’t go in at all. I instantly reconsider. Teal’c didn’t tell me where he was going, but if he was headed off base a logical thing to consider was that he wanted to find her. I think. Pulling my truck right behind her car, there’s no turning back now. If nothing else, I should at least go up there and let her know Teal’c is looking for her.

Upon my entrance, the doorman gives me an extremely perplexed stare. I don’t blame him; the guy runs a tight ship and Daniel hasn’t been home in a couple of days. He’s certainly not here now. God, something of him better be or I really am screwed. Luckily for me, the doorman recognizes me and seems okay with my appearance. I almost make it past him when he suddenly breaks the silence.

“Sir? Sir, please wait.”

Stopping right in front of the elevator door, I don’t turn around like I should, but give the floor an intense once over. I really, really…

“If I may, sir?” he continues nervously. I finally give him my attention, such that it is. “You’re the third visitor Mr. Jackson has had today, and I know he’s not there. That strikes me as odd.”

Really? Odd. Yeah, I guess that works. I raise my eyebrow at the mention of a third, and quickly assume Teal’c is already up there. The doorman keeps staring at me, clearly expecting an answer I’m not ready to give him quite yet. It should be easy to say, because it was easy to let happen. But it’s not.

“Some things have come up at work,” I manage to choke out, amazed at how neutral my voice actually sounds.

He parrots me, adding a question mark at the end as if he really expects me to elaborate. I just stare at him until he finally backs away, looking as baffled as he had from the get-go. Swallowing, I jab the elevator button over and over again until the damned thing arrives. In it before it really settles, I repeat the process for the eighth floor button and for some reason hold my breath as the contraption ascends through the building. As it gasps to a stop, I exhale right along with it and step into the hall, going over in my mind what I need to say both to Daniel and to Teal’c and Carter. I’m suddenly struck by a lack of purpose. What am I really doing here? I don’t even know. It’s far, far too late.

I reach the door, right hand raised in preparation to knock when I realize how stupid that is. Letting it fall, I test the door and find it open so I simply slip into the apartment. A couple of steps in, I know it’s disappointingly empty. There’s nothing here for me either. Turning around before I make it to the den, I head for the door when I hear music. My heart starts to beat as my mind makes the irrational leap that Daniel is here. Opening my mouth to call out his name, all I do is croak like the fool I am.

Then I remember the other reason I’m here, that Daniel isn’t the only one I need to speak to. And there are no excuses because unlike Daniel, Carter and Teal’c are solid. They’re here. I swing back around and let the music pull me toward it, around the counter and by the table. Wreckage in the kitchen catches my eye, and it makes me freeze for a moment. Half of the pots and pans are scattered like refuse on the floor, the other half hangs neatly. Without knowing there was disaster on the ground, I might have thought everything was status quo. I take a step toward them, wanting to put right the fragments on the floor, line the neglected items up where they belong and make them whole. I squat down and stare for a minute, then rise and leave the ruins as they are—not nearly mended.

Terribly, inexplicably disturbed by that image, I make my way up the few stairs toward the bedroom. Hovering at the partly open door, I listen for any indication of what to expect on the other side. I hear nothing but the music, a nasally, unusual but so gripping voice singing right to me.

Hear me God, I’m on the level.
Mapping silence, seeing things;
crying, laughing like the devil.

I take a step forward, peer into the darkened room and suddenly feel very out of place. Barely seeing their outlines is enough; Carter and Teal’c are huddled together on Daniel’s bed in an embrace I’d deem inappropriate under other circumstances. I hear Carter snuffle once, Teal’c's answering rumble of an assurance.

And before the might of all that’s seen,
I’ll raise my head and wake to dream
with a clean pair of eyes.

They’ve come here, both of them seeking comfort from Daniel and from each other. Not from me, I’m not welcomed through this door. Both of them had an opportunity to include me, and didn’t. Or couldn’t. Wouldn’t? And I see now the real reason I needed to come here; it’s all too obvious. I can’t move, can’t breathe or even feel with the magnitude of this realization. The song continues to pound into me, its message positive and shocking. It shouldn’t be shocking and it doesn’t feel remotely positive.

A clean pair of eyes, don’t need no right or wrong.
Don’t need no disguise, no sugar to fix my tongue.
A clean pair of eyes.

I see now. I understand why I haven’t been able to rid myself of the burning in my throat, though I understand I already and always knew. I’ve made it so the last person any member of my team would ever turn to is me. Made it easy for them to walk away from me instead of toward, and that cuts me right down the middle. I’ve acknowledged to myself as much was true with Daniel and should have immediately made the connection to Carter and Teal’c. It took this, this revelation of my status as interloper here in this house of grief and pain and solace to make me see what it is I came here to get from Daniel. And, as insane as I know it to be, I believe he is responsible for opening my eyes. I let him go, and he’s now telling me not to let the same thing happen with them.

But I can’t bring myself to go through the door. Not today. Not here. I take a silent, harsh breath and one step backward. I know what I have to do, but knowing is not doing. Doing is so much more difficult, and I’ve trained myself to repress so well the truth hits me like a nail between the eyes. I can’t take it for granted they know without words, and it’s easy to champion and advocate a touch here, a smile there. An encouraging word or two.

The cold, hard truth is that I’m nowhere near certain I remember how to demonstrate and say what I hope Carter and Teal’c know I feel about them, and how I felt about Daniel. Still feel about Daniel. The truth is I can already feel myself falling into routine patterns. Moving on, trying to forget and forge ahead so the pain doesn’t seep into my soul with such terrible cruelty I can’t function.

And the truth, it hurts.

The End

Once Lost
by Carrie

Shaking with exertion from action they were unaccustomed to, the man’s legs carried him without real control or direction. He gasped harshly, bobbing and weaving through densely soggy underbrush, which seemed to leap out at him with obstructive, malevolent intentions. Looking back over his shoulder, he didn’t even know what he was searching for but was filled with an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Fear. Both emotions seemed strange to him, uncharacteristic, as though he had been incapable of feeling anything at all until only recently; as if he were a newborn, with the exception he was cognitively developed. He panted in great gulps of frantic air. He knew something was after him, big and strong and terrible with wrath.

He was certain of it.

He ran, stumbled, carried on. And on and on. His breath became increasingly difficult to catch, each step depleting more energy from him. He had no choice but to keep on. He had to make it. Had to. Confusion befell him the instant the motivated thought finished running through his head; make it where? A covey of small, dusky birds, startled by his headlong rush, abruptly burst through a cluster of bushes with loud squawks and loss of feathers. The man involuntarily paused, jerked with as much shock as the winged creatures and he took a moment to gather air into his taxed lungs. That action felt as wrong as his desperate emotions. And yet right. Perplexed, he wished he had a modicum of understanding for why he was running—away from and toward what he was drawn. There was someplace he knew he had to reach. Why couldn’t he remember? Shifting his blurry gaze down, he stretched out his hands and stared at them. The white, frail looking appendages were unfamiliar. Foreign.

Filled with blatant dread, the man started breathing rapidly again despite standing immobile. The sensation of duality, unknown yet known, was becoming more ominous. He was afraid, so afraid. This was wrong. Bad. One bird audaciously peeped at him, haranguing him for disrupting its peaceful abode and he jarred out of his stupefaction. Behind him, he heard the rustle of leaves. Instinctively, his legs began moving again and the call of the re-irritated birds drowned out the harbingering sound of his pursuer. As he ran, he contemplated whether he had really heard anything or if his mind had conjured an imaginary tormentor. Didn’t matter, all that did was that he kept going, pushing his body to its limits. His body? He tripped and sprawled face down into the loamy soil.

Much needed air whooshed from his body, leaving him in a vacuum of frightened panic. Frenziedly, stupidly, he tried to breathe though he somehow knew his body simply needed time to adjust to the assault it had been put through. Bewilderingly inherent knowledge. Calming himself as he knew he must, the man relaxed and allowed his muscles to unlock. Relief came at last and he raggedly inhaled, then promptly coughed as forest detritus flew into his mouth. Hacking, he shakily rose to his hands and knees, head hanging down while he expelled the unwanted from his lungs and sucked in a deep, clean breath at last.

Interminably long minutes later, he finally composed himself. His hands, fingers spread wide as he braced himself, glowed whitely back up to him. They were indistinct as if it was twilight and his vision was impaired by the deceptive light of that hour. Looking up confirmed the sun was almost directly overhead. He frowned, picked himself up and began his journey again. Comfort was not to be found in sunlight. Setting his pace at cautious to prevent another spill, the man felt his overt panic diminish. There was no sound following after him. No telltale heart. His thoughts did not make sense to him. Nothing made sense but to forge ahead to his destination. Safe there. Welcome.

His bare feet slipped on a moss covered tree stump, the foliage beneath his toes squishing out between them. Flailing his arms, he regained control and barely averted another disaster. He briefly looked down, noticed how filthy his arms and legs were. Naked beneath the layer of dirt, the yellowish pallor of the limbs reminded him of mealworms. Pale and thick. Disgusting. Unconsciously, he lifted his arms up, crossing them to run his hands along his biceps before folding them over his unclothed chest. The position offered no genuine reassurance. He didn’t know why he had expected it to. Even if it had, he couldn’t sustain it; running required his arms.

And he had to run, had to get there. So close. Had to be only moments away now.

Jumping from his precarious perch on the downed tree, the man winced as his feet contacted something sharp. Now that he was aware of their bare state, his soles vehemently protested the abuse they were taking. They ached and stung, the pain uncomfortable but also strangely soothing. He shook his head and forced himself onward. Surveying the landscape in front, he squinted past the persistent fuzziness of his vision and thought perhaps the monstrous trees were thinning out. He wasn’t sure what that meant, intuitively dug deep to pick up the pace anyway. His legs trembled and he shivered with sudden cold.

Faintly calling through the trees, echoes of sound reached his ears and his heart correspondingly tripped. It was a metallically hollow, scraping noise that that prickled with familiarity. Spurting abruptly into a wide, expansive steppe, the man halted in his tracks. The knee-high grass waved with peaceful fluidity, the rippling leading his eyes in one direction and what it directed him to stole the needed air right out of him. Incredibly captivating, beautifully grotesque, the azure center of it was so vibrant he could not look away.

Until his attention was garnered by a different sight, one that made him physically respond with even more violence. His palms got clammy and a chill so severe he once again wrapped his arms around his chest for warmth assailed him. Not wind, the cold was from within. All encompassing, ruthless. Silently, he stood and watched the three green-clad figures slowly walk into the middle of the big ring. He looked away as two of them vanished, gasping at the shock of it. Dropping his arms, the man looked down at the streaks his sweaty hands had created on his arms, the swirls making him dizzy. He panted crazily. This is what he had been running toward…but why didn’t he know? Everything was unclear.

A loud, booming voice rent the quietude. Though he could not understand the words, he felt the pain.

Snapping his head up, he watched the remaining figure spread his arms as if stretching. He was frozen, couldn’t stop staring at the person. Wanted to cry out, call something to heal that anguish. Couldn’t. Before turning toward the blueness and plunging into the pool, the form dropped its…his arms and he could see the shoulders sagging despite the unrelenting fogginess of his vision. His rapid exhalations caught in his throat, the dejection of the other man was a living thing traversing the distance between them. He wanted to reach out. Follow. The blue gelled thickly back into a placid lake.

And he ran. There was little time.

Legs once shaky thrummed with adrenaline, pushing harder than he would have thought possible. Speeding so the wind loudly and raucously screamed in his ear, he was relieved that he was approaching his goal so quickly. The whine became obnoxious, unremitting, and he abruptly realized it was not the wind that was to blame. It was him. His voice had also come awake, and he was shouting unintelligibly. Too late, no one to hear him now. Alone.

No! Nonononono!

He blinked past sudden wetness in his eyes.

He was at the great circle, the brightness of the liquid middle harsh to his sensitive eyes. He wheezed, awestruck for a moment. Gazing upward, he studied the glyphs decorating the dull gray ring. He was afraid. Couldn’t breathe. Darkness at the periphery of his vision. Hesitating, the man turned back the direction from which he had come. He was more afraid of the faceless hunter.

He stepped into the blue.

The world became abrasive light, punishing noise. Dizziness beset him, and chaos of activity and sound. Arms and legs. Black metal, sharp clicks. Sirens wailing. Jagged hardness beneath his battered feet. Smells, pungent with fearful anger. The man fell to his knees, uncertain he had made the right decision. Wanted someone to tell him. A massive gasping sound surrounded him, as if the room in which he found himself was being emptied of air. Prolonged silence followed, then someone whispered words he still could not comprehend. It was the voice of the last person whom he had followed and he tried to turn to the speaker. Failed. His vision warped sickeningly, gray flickering deeper.

“Jesus, Jesus!” the voice cried, and this time his mind translated. He plummeted face first, couldn’t lift his arms to soften the descent. “It’s Daniel!”

He understood the words but they held no meaning. Blackness overcame him.

He was tired.

Jack didn’t know if he could do it anymore. For six months, he had existed in a neutral zone; events during that time frame were hazy at best, barely recognizable as something he’d experienced at worst. It was as if he was outside himself, observing everything with calculated precision…and not caring about any of it. Not even the rape of his body and mind by that damn Tok’ra snake. There was only one instance he remembered with clarity—his visit from Daniel in Ba’al’s fortress. Of course, he wasn’t entirely certain that had been real. It had felt real. He had felt. After the initial shock of elated hope at seeing his friend, there had been great pain and anguish. And those weren’t feelings he had wanted but, in retrospect, he cherished them. The lingering bittersweetness he’d had in the infirmary had faded quickly.

Until he again felt nothing beyond mental and physical exhaustion.

Glancing around at the gray trees, rocks, grass…gray everything on P7X 251, he wondered if he was the only one experiencing a strange, sudden onset of colorblindness or whose life had become a bland purgatory. Both of his companions had given more of a good faith effort than he had with all of the…replacements. The descriptor stuck in the back of his throat like dry turkey, and it was inappropriate on so many levels. No one could replace Daniel—no amount of book learning, intelligence, or fantastic physical abilities could make up for the heart and experience of the lost archaeologist. The morality. The soul. Jack suddenly felt something again and he didn’t want to. It was regret, sadness and anger wrapped up into one corrosive emotion. He swallowed the sour bile that regurgitated into his mouth.

He scowled over to Carter, noticed she looked more severe than he expected, as if she had lived five years in the span of a few months. And those years had been filled with too much grief to recover from, leaving her hardened, harsh and hollow-cheeked. Flopping, his stomach bore the brunt of his reaction to the realization and the knowledge that his 2IC’s appearance should not have been a surprise to him. Flitting his gaze over to Teal’c, he saw a similar thing; his ageless friend was showing the passage of rough times. Lines cragged the once smooth face, the frown that typically signified impartiality exuded unhappiness. Jack knew, then, that he was not alone.

And yet he was.

Dialing the DHD, Carter mechanically gathered herself together while Teal’c moved to stand just to the left of the mushroom shaped device as the ‘gate whooshed to life. He didn’t join them, kept his back turned because the sight of their dispassion was suddenly too much for him to think about. Eyeing the vast stretch of meadow surrounding the Stargate, Jack noted how the wind made the tall grass look like a hoary sea. It flowed with what should have been natural beauty but all he saw was choppiness. Disruption.

“Code’s been received, sir,” Carter said. He didn’t respond. “Sir?”

“Go. We’re finished here.”

Finished with what? An empty, safe mission meant to be just that to acclimate him back to life as commander of SG1. Too bad Hammond didn’t realize he would have found a mission that had put them straight onto a battlefield just as empty and harmless. Meaningless. Jack heard two slight sucking sounds, indicating his team members had silently left him. Sighing, he couldn’t help but think that was just another example of how the team had eroded—there was a time when the other two would have taken note of his isolation and at least tried to pull him out of it. Perhaps they had, but hadn’t the will to sustain a prolonged campaign.

He sighed and was overcome by abrupt suffocation.

If he didn’t know he was completely alone, Jack would think someone was forcefully stuffing a pillow down his throat and pressing a great weight onto his chest. He threw his arms wide and tensed every muscle in his body, a deep roar building from his gut and expelling from his mouth with such force it seared his throat. Screaming and screaming until he could no longer physically sustain the yawp, he ended it and heard it resound back to him. Whatever he’d meant to accomplish by the action, he was sure it hadn’t worked. Something solid seemed to rest on his shoulders, attached itself to his lungs.

Unrelieved but spent, he dropped his arms and turned around to walk into the portal. He could still hear his cry echoing back to him, mutated into a pitiful wail. Despising the weakness of the sound, he stiffened his back and plunged into the wormhole. The cry followed him, plaguing his ears as he stepped onto the ramp on the other side. Shaking his head to dispel the sound, he sighed tiredly at the regularity of the procedures that met him at the SGC. He handed his gun to a waiting SF, felt his heavy pack being fiddled with from behind.

He was tired.

“Welcome back, SG1. Report to the infirmary for your examinations. Debriefing is at 1630 hours,” the on-staff technician informed them with clipped exactness.

Welcome back, SG1.

This wasn’t SG1, though it was comprised of three original members of his former team. This was a farcical pretense of the way it used to be, each of them dutifully playing his or her role but without enthusiasm. Or soul. God, he still missed Daniel so much. More than he had thought possible when he’d watched the younger man walk away. He was a fool for even entertaining the idea that things would be fine with one member of the team gone. One of his kids. Wearily, Jack blinked and looked around the cluttered room, catching and holding Carter’s eye for a moment. He was startled by the depth of pain he read in them. She flinched, quickly staring down at the floor as if she had been caught stealing. When had his team started hiding their feelings from him? Probably a long time ago or, just as likely, they hadn’t hidden a thing—he just hadn’t seen. He could do nothing but regret.

He sighed again. Lifting a hand to help detach his pack, his fumbling fingers stopped when he heard an all too familiar sound from behind. The wormhole had just disgorged another traveler, the slurping sound barely registering in his ears and ringing in them at the same time. Glaring up at the control room for those there’s failure to report an unexpected guest and close the iris, Jack froze at the expressions blanching all personnel members’ faces. The geek behind the dial-up computer had his mouth flapping open and shut as if he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. All around him, he heard sharp inhalations of breath and he turned to take in what the others were reacting so strongly to.

The instant he pivoted around, he let go of his pack’s strap and it thudded to the ground, colliding with his calves on the way down. His legs crumpled slightly, not due to the heavy bag but to the sight that greeted him. Unmoving, Jack stared. Couldn’t budge, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe. He finally managed to move, his right arm instinctively reaching out.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Oh, my God.”

Was it? Jack fell into muteness as the bedraggled, dirty and naked figure plunged to its knees. His arm moved in time with the man’s collapse, lowering but not increasing its reach. Madly swinging his gaze to Carter and Teal’c's staggered faces for a second, he then turned back to the specter kneeling before all of them as if in penance for some unholy sin. He finally took a step forward, his throat nearly closed over with tension. The world moved sluggishly; he heard the calls of SFs for the intruder to cease movement and vaguely thought how fruitless the directive was when the man was clearly too weak to cause harm. The man looked as though he were trying to twist and Jack’s heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might burst free. Not the man, it was…

“Jesus, Jesus!” Jack hoarsely shouted as the form managed to turn his face in their direction.

He couldn’t look away, his stomach whirling at the completely blank stare of the other man’s expression. Shuddering, Jack felt a shaft of fear strike through him that his friend didn’t recognize them, too overwhelmed by some unknown trauma. Dumbly staring as the younger man succumbed to gravity and slammed face first onto ramp in an awkward sprawl, he still couldn’t move.

He said what didn’t need clarification, “It’s Daniel!”

“Get a medical team in here!” Carter bellowed, suddenly so close to him he jumped at the loudness of her voice. His 2IC clasped his right forearm tightly, bringing it down as she squeezed and murmured, “Daniel?”

As if her hushed exhalation was a catalyst, things started moving at excessive speed—camouflaged greens and browns of the SFs obstructed his view. Frustration bubbled, growing to the point of explosion and then, suddenly, he was at Daniel’s side, crouching next to the prostrate man and battling old knees. Ignoring the discomfort of his own body, Jack tentatively laid a hand on his friend’s cold, bare shoulder. He half expected his hand to float right through the apparition, though he had heard the clatter the other man had made when he had fallen and knew his friend must be solid. It didn’t, and he was devastated by the realization that for some unidentifiable reason, through some strange force of fate, luck or misfortune, Daniel Jackson had returned to a human state. He barked out a laugh, which throttled midway through when his throat closed over.

Daniel was here, Daniel was back.

“Sir, I need you to move so I can take a look. Lieutenant Mescudi, please cover D-doctor Jackson.”

Blinking, Jack looked up into worried brown eyes and became aware that he had unwittingly managed to turn Daniel over and had his arms wrapped around the unconscious man as if holding on was the only thing keeping his friend corporeal. The skin beneath his fingers was icy cold, the muscles unresponsive as he hugged tightly. He didn’t want to let go, though he knew he was hindering the doctor when he shouldn’t be. Prying at him with implacable strength, hands removed the option, left him with his arms spread wide and restrained. He wrenched free, glaring at those surrounding him for their transgressions. It was Carter and Teal’c, and neither of them were looking at him. Staring down at Daniel with features warped with an oxymoronic blend of horror and rapture, his team members embodied his inner turmoil. His ire vanished.

Now lying on his back, arms haphazardly flopping as Doc Fraiser and three of her staff clustered around him, Daniel appeared so small. So human. Jack’s leg muscles decided they didn’t want to work anymore, and he weakly scrabbled at Teal’c's arm for balance and strength. Out of the corner of his eye, he fuzzily saw the portly shape of General Hammond fly into the ‘gateroom. Didn’t look from the ministrations, was padlocked in a suspended animation of stunned disbelief. Belief. Confusion. Buzzing with it, his brain felt disconnected from the rest of him, too inundated with stimuli to work properly.

“Doctor Fraiser?” the general tremulously asked, and the words served to pull him back to the events playing out in front of him.

“It’s too soon to tell, sir. His pulse is accelerated, skin is clammy. He’s in a state of shock, but I don’t know from what,” Doctor Fraiser quickly replied. “We’ll know more in a few minutes.”

“He’s…real?” Carter whispered.

“As far as I can tell.”

“Real,” Jack heard his own voice repeat, though he had not intended the word to come out.

Real, and fragile. A white jacket covered Daniel’s lower half, but it did nothing to disguise the sheer nakedness of the man. He was mesmerized by how his friend didn’t look a day older than the last time he’d seen him, in fact appeared younger. No glasses, hair mussed, damp and dirty. He let go of Teal’c and stumbled forward, needing more physical reinforcement. Touch. Beneath the grime and pallor, Jack saw Daniel. Daniel. He dared a smile, which faltered when Doctor Fraiser held up an adamant hand to prevent him from getting closer.

“Sir, I’m sorry. We don’t know the circumstances surrounding D-daniel’s return,” she imparted, the repeated stutter of Daniel’s name the only indication of her emotionality. “Until I can make an assessment of his physical state, I want no one near him.”

On a base level, he understood the logic. In his gut, he railed against the command, wanted to shove the petite doctor away and get to his friend’s side. Teal’c grasped his shoulder in silent, perceptive agreement, as well as to restrain his forward motion. He stiffened as the medical personnel gingerly lifted Daniel and placed him on a waiting gurney. Jack watched them wheel the younger man out of the ‘gateroom and out of sight. Like a string was attached from the gurney to his legs, he trailed after the fast-moving entourage. Carter and Teal’c were at his heels, General Hammond taking up the rear. None of them spoke.

He was in a dreamlike fog, hovering at the door while Daniel was probed and prodded and poked. Surveying the young man’s body for any obvious injuries or responses, Jack was pleased when he couldn’t locate any and his eyes lit upon the right hand, where they affixed. The long fingers were lax, knuckles abnormally ashen next to the streaks of dirt smudging the rest of the hand. His elation at being unable to find any major physical injuries waned as concern over Daniel’s unresponsiveness waxed, his muscles strumming with tension and the will for his friend to move. Awaken. Truly be back. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for sure. The vision of a blank blue-eyed stare played before his eyes, welcome and deplorable.

He was afraid.

“I imagine it will be quite some time,” General Hammond awkwardly said. Jack jerked in alarm at the verbal disturbance, blinking rapidly. An incursion of unwanted tears attacked his eyes, restoring moisture lost from his intense stare. Softly, a hand touched his elbow. “You should find somewhere to sit. In the hall.”

No.

“Sir, if you…if we’re not in the way, I think we’d all rather stay here,” Carter dissented. “You can’t…it’s Daniel.”

His vision cleared at last and, keeping his eyes on that still hand, Jack nodded agreement with his 2IC’s disturbingly inept words. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he took his direct attention off the formerly lost man, then Daniel would disappear to go follow his separate path again. Selfishly, he clung to his own wants and cautious hope. A blur of white marred his sight for a second, one of the many staff members surrounding his friend taking up a new position. He slid to the side, putting Daniel back into his line.

“I understand that, Major, please believe I do. But Doctor Fraiser can best do her job without distractions.”

“General Hammond, you cannot truly believe I, Major Carter or Colonel O’Neill will voluntarily exit the infirmary at this time.”

“I’m not asking you to go far…”

The halfhearted argument was peripheral to him, there but not important. Letting it grow fainter, he manipulated his location in conjunction with the quickly moving medical personnel, always watching. Monitor leads were hooked up, the accompanying beeps adding another subtle layer to the discourse of his companions. He couldn’t tune those out, didn’t want to, was drawn to their fast but steady rhythm. Daniel was alive. A dozen scenarios of what might have occurred to bring his friend back raced through his head and none of them meant a damn thing. Jack didn’t really care about the whys and the hows, though in the back of his mind he knew the information would be needed. All he cared about was that Daniel was alive, alive.

The pointer finger of Daniel’s stationary hand jolted off the bed, then went back down.

Jack reactively jumped, the hand that had remained on his elbow tightened to the point the grip was painful, and someone emitted a squeak of surprise. Carter. Catching in his throat, his breath refused to come for several long seconds as he waited for proof the movement hadn’t just been consequential of the intrusive examination or a figment of their collective imaginations. The mass of people in the room arrested, aiding his study and lending more reassurance to the veracity of his belief. Excited by the mere prospect of Daniel regaining consciousness, he faltered forward. The same finger twitched, joined by the thumb.

“Doctor Jackson…Daniel?” Fraiser breathed.

Running the few steps separating him from Daniel, heart beating almost as erratically as the rhythm now tripping the monitors, Jack searched his friend’s face. He lifted his hand, ignoring the muted protests Fraiser garbled out. She might as well have told him to stop breathing, because he had to. Had to. His fingers touched the cool skin of Daniel’s cheek, eliciting a tiny mewl of sound that did nothing to alleviate his fears. The younger man weakly fished around on the bed, immediately subdued by Fraiser’s hands upon his arms.

“Daniel,” he gently said, pressing his hand closer around his friend’s cheek. A bare slitting of blue eyes, never a more welcome sight, rewarded his coaxing. He whispered again, “Daniel.”

And punishment came when the other man’s eyes widened, but still reflected no recognition.

Swirling noises deluged his tattered senses in a confusing, heady conglomeration, suffocating with strength. He felt as though he were in a pitch-black room, straining to see but surrounded by darkness he could not combat. Amid the muffled disorder, a sharp pinging sound broke through and tortured his eardrums. Voices faintly echoed, helping soothe the whining, mechanical intensity of the irritant but only just slightly. Struggling to stem the growing panic, he moved rubbery arms to bring them up to his ears; his intentions were thwarted by resolute pressure on both of them. With a flash, memory of fear fell upon him, heavy and thick. Something lurking behind him, watching and waiting to attack. Afraid he had actually been caught by his terrible foe, the man renewed his fight.

“Daniel.”

He knew that word, so familiar to him he could see it. His mind unveiled a picture of a man of average height and weight, relatively defined facial features. Blue eyes. Intense, old. Tormented. Bereft. He stared at the mental image, opened his eyes to see if the man was real. Fuzzily, his eyes registered a pale, gaunt face. Not what he’d expected, not the representation he’d imagined. This face was worried and yet so hopeful. He knew this was the person he’d seen, full of pain, back…where?

The man spoke, repeating the name, “Daniel.”

Oh…God. Daniel.

He was Daniel. Stunned, he widened his eyes, wanted to let the other…Jack. Jack! Excitement and reassurance flared but only lasted a fraction of a second. Then there was agony, intense burning from within and without at the same time. He was melting, every atom disintegrating slowly and too, too quickly. His skin…falling off in massive, disgusting chunks and leaving behind polyps of soreness and he wanted to scream. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He could feel it all, every molecule of agony in his body. Couldn’t budge, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe. Dying. Death had pursued him here, would rob and conquer him. He bucked weakly, unable to get away from it, and his actions only provoked further anguish. Consuming. Killing.

“Daniel! Oh, God,” Jack cried, paling even further. Desperation tinged brown eyes bore into him, then turned away. Daniel wanted their power, needed to call them back. Couldn’t. “Doc, what’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, sir! We haven’t even run any tests yet.”

He knew what was wrong with him. Radiation poisoning. Kelowna. Jack knew that. Writhing, Daniel tried to escape the pain once again. The hands wouldn’t let him, fingers tearing into his wasted flesh. He choked, not understanding why Jack’s grip wasn’t relenting.

“Jack,” he pleaded.

His friend’s features blanched slightly before a relieved smile took over and Jack sagged down until his face was buried into the pillow, next to his neck. Strong, big hands replaced those already on his arms, squeezing inexorably. Startled by the overt action, Daniel nearly forgot the agony of his radiation-decaying skin. He could not remember a time when the other man had been so open in expressing emotions. Amazingly, the half-embrace brought comfort, eased the pain slightly. He stopped wriggling, allowed himself to ride the wave of assurance.

“Daniel, it’s okay. You’re okay now,” Jack exhaled, hot air gusting into his skin. Blistering from the lie his friend had just told. Not okay. Dying. “You’re safe. Home.”

“You’re just… giving up?”

Gasping at the defeated disappointment in Jack’s voice, Daniel blinked back unexpected tears and studied the face which was pulling away to peer down at him. Nothing in it reflected a hint of the tone he’d clearly heard, and he was confused by the incongruity of the awed, sanguine expression smoothing out the lines on his friend’s usually craggy face. There was none of the anticipated tiredness, no harshness. Wrinkling his eyebrows, he scrunched his eyes tightly shut, his head floating with incomprehension. He heard the blips of a monitor thrum in time with his racing heart.

“No, not that. Believe me,” he croaked, the refutation coming from nowhere.

He had to say those words, had to tell Jack. Opening his eyes, he saw his friend swallow convulsively while his expression sickened. Confusion increasing in his clouded mind, Daniel opened his mouth to tell the other man he was, in no uncertain terms, not giving up. But the thought brought only stark, cold fear and the breath hitched in his throat once again. He didn’t understand. The monitor beside him sang with alarm and the hands on his arm constricted.

“Yes, Daniel,” Jack reaffirmed, anxiety tracing his tone. “Please.”

He didn’t understand why Jack would want him to surrender, or why he knew he wasn’t doing so. It seemed as though he and his friend weren’t talking about the same thing, the vehemence and fear practically seeping from Jack were extremely perplexing to him. Upsetting. Janet couldn’t fix what the toxins were doing to his body, yet… Daniel wheezed, afraid he was losing an important battle after all. No, no, no. Not giving up. Never, till the… end.

“Hurts,” he frogged.

“What? What hurts, Daniel?” Janet. Shuffling backward, Jack nearly left his range of sight but lingered as the doctor edged her way in between him and his friend. “Can you tell me?”

God, he wanted to be tough for them, not let them know how much he was suffering. Hated himself when he couldn’t accomplish it. “Everything, everything.”

“Jan… Janet?”

Unsteady, a new voice sounded and the short burst of speech trailed off into a bare, strangled whimper. Daniel recognized it, shifted his head toward it and found Sam hovering at the infirmary door. Teal’c and General Hammond were right next to her, all of them looking shell-shocked. He hadn’t thought about their reactions to his action, had only thought to save them and the Kelownan residents. Despite his misery, he was gladdened he had time to tell them all what they meant to him. Apologize for leaving them.

“He’s exhibiting signs of severe shock, but I still can find no physical cause. I don’t know if the disorientation is completely resultant of his sudden… appearance or if he sustained additional trauma.”

Additional trauma. Mind reeling, Daniel could not come to terms with his friends’ seeming ignorance of his fate. It made no sense, nor did the flashes of memory that kept dangling in front of him, of him running, running, running through a damp forest, the landscape alien, as if the images came from a dream. Perhaps he was remembering scattered fragments of his slumberous imaginings. Didn’t matter, all that mattered was the very real degradation of his body. Too fast, the accident had only just happened. He wanted more time, needed it.

“Naq…” he gasped, throat closing over before he could finish the word. Swallowing brought more concentrated scorching, and he choked.

“What?” Jack prompted, head poking over Doctor Fraiser’s shoulder.

“Reactor… radiation…”

There was a harsh, communal intake of breath as if everyone else in the room was shocked by the news. Through the haze surrounding him, the sound was jaggedly sharp and clear, followed by silence so profound he thought he might drown in it. Drown like he could tell he was, the fluid in his lungs weighty with forbidding portent.

“Jesus… Christ.”

He couldn’t tell who had uttered the word, could only hear the distress behind it. Sorry, so sorry. He thought they knew, regretted being the one to inform them all of his quickly approaching doom. Moisture filled his eyes, not wholly from the pain still wracking every inch, and he attempted to locate Jack again. He needed to see his friend, though the mere idea of gaining strength through Jack was almost foreign to him now. Lately, he’d even questioned whether their relationship could be coined as friendship. Yet… doubt was not massive enough, he’d seen something on the other man’s face before. Something that told him Jack truly was still his friend.

“Jack?” his eyes focused, then unfocused again. Fraiser moved slightly, her face warped into an ugly, dumbfounded grimace, and revealed Jack. Whose expression wasn’t any easier to witness. “I’m…”

“No. Whatever you’re thinking, it is not what you’re thinking.”

But it was. Apparently the only one who had accepted he was lying here already a dead man, Daniel knew it was his responsibility to make them see. He shook, the burden so great it was an aggravator to the radiation eating away at him, aiding its progress and threatening to split him apart. With every cell of his being, he did not want to die. There was no other choice; he didn’t expect the SGC to move mountains to find a way to fix the unfixable. Locked onto Jack’s fiercely brown eyes, his gaze faltered slightly with the resoluteness in them, and he looked over to Sam and Teal’c. Sam had one hand over her mouth so tightly he could see the red lines cutting across her white knuckles, her eyes luminous with tears and her face glistening with those already shed. She must feel so helpless, and he knew she hated that.

Ignoring Jack’s false encouragement and, though he knew it was futile, he suggested, “Sam… heal… healing device?”

God, it was so difficult to speak but he had to give Sam the chance. He heard a muffled moan and saw as her hand dropped to her side, then reached backwards when she slumped against the wall. Instantly, Teal’c was at her shoulder, offering comfort. Daniel blinked at the strange reactions, but it only took him a moment to realize what a horrible thing he’d just asked his friend to do. Envisioning what it would be like for Sam to attempt healing him only to fail tore at him, knifed him right in the stomach. He feebly tried to double over, Jack’s fingers reacting and pulverizing the skin on his arms even more. He could not withhold a gurgle of pain, crushing his eyes shut.

“Daniel, calm down. You really are okay. God, someone help me out here,” Jack frenziedly called.

“I’m going to give him a sedative. Nurse, bring me two ccs of…”

“Is that really necessary, Doctor Fraiser?”

“Look at him! My God, I can’t just stand here and let him suffer. I won’t.”

“He shouldn’t be suffering. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Whether he should be or not… the fact is he is. Please hold him steady, Colonel.”

“Be careful. Watch his hands. Carter, Teal’c…”

The chaos of flurried voices faded and muffled, leaving the room, his world, a mass of echoing, anguished arguments. He couldn’t distinguish the words, as they went on and on; his agony took precedence over everything. Until Jack spoke softly into his ear, “Daniel.”

He went limp, the magnitude of emotion revealed in the one simple word enough stun him. It was unanticipated but welcome, and it covered his physical pain like a soothing balm. Heavy warmness sheltered his chest and torso, and he could feel faint reverberations of someone else’s heartbeat directly on top of his. Rather than soreness from the pressure, Daniel felt only the enigmatically comforting heat of the other body. He braved cracking his eyes open just as he felt cold burning on the back of his left hand and the pressure let up slightly.

Jack pulled away, though he did not go more than six inches, face hovering above his. He was trapped by his friend’s eyes, which drilled emotions into him, so rapidly changing that he became dizzy. Befuddlement. Fear. Incredulity. A precise reflection of his own feelings. Unable to withstand the doubled intensity of those sensations, Daniel closed his eyes and was alarmed when the vertigo continued. He incongruously shivered at the warmth seeping into his veins. A throat was gruffly cleared, an awkward reaction to an uncomfortable situation or event. He couldn’t tell who had produced the noise. His muscles involuntarily slackened.

“Is he unconscious?”

“Doesn’t he look unconscious?” Jack growled into his ear.

“Colonel,” General Hammond rebuked.

Daniel felt a gust of warm air flutter through the hair at his temple as Jack sighed deeply. He couldn’t move to tell them he was still awake, weariness flaking his formerly adrenaline-packed energy. The medication Doctor Fraiser had administered seemed to be deadening the pain along with his wakefulness, and for that he was grateful. Cowardly though it was for himself, he had no desire to endure such immense torment and, more so, because he knew his friends would suffer right along with him. And that was a far worse punishment than anything he’d have to personally undergo. He hoped the doctor could numb him completely. He hoped death would come swiftly. He… wait, what? If he’d told Jack he wasn’t giving up and somehow knew as much, how was death victory?

“He’s pretty well gone, thank goodness,” Doctor Fraiser whispered, sounding strange from the fuzziness of his brain. No, more than that. Shaky. Uncertain. Confused. All three sensations were apparently contagious. Daniel again tried to rouse, and failed. “If you’ll all wait out of the way, I can commence with the battery of tests I need to give him.”

Tests? She didn’t think she could really save him from this. She couldn’t. Grunting, Daniel inwardly cheered when he heard the faint sound breach the land of the wakeful. A soft touch to his cheek told him he’d been heard. It remained there, a solid emblem of solace but didn’t push for him to wake up. Of course not, the drugs were meant to induce sleep, and the very idea of rousing was moot; he couldn’t imagine his eyelids opening. He was wrapped in blessed numbness.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Wh-when he asked me about the h-healing device, I just…”

“You don’t have to explain, Carter. I remember what happened… before.”

“As do we all.”

They all spoke as though they had the hiccups, Sam’s stutters the most noticeable and distressing. What did they remember? Daniel wracked his weakening mind, searching for the memory they all shared. All but him. There was nothing, only scattered recollections of shattering glass, thunder of blood rushing in his ears, searing heat in his right hand and shitshitshit. He didn’t want to die without saying goodbye. Renewed energy flowed into him, and he turned his face into the warm hand still cupping his cheek. The motion caused an exaggerated pause in conversation.

“Shhh, Daniel, it’s okay. Just sleep,” Sam called to him, and from the trajectory of her voice he knew she was not the one touching him. “Rest.”

Despite the sense that something was so very wrong with all of this, Daniel found he could do nothing but obey. He felt a gentle swipe of a thumb across his cheekbone as he wilted into the thin mattress.

“His skin is cold.”

“He’s n-naked, sir.”

Naked?

“No, I mean from more than that.”

“As I said, Colonel, he’s in shock. We need to get him warmed up and out of that particular danger before I can really do anything.”

“Well, cover him up more.”

The body heat he hadn’t even altogether realized was emanating into him disappeared, replaced by chill air. Cold. Shock. Naked. Warm blanket tucking all around him, underneath his arms and legs.

“Oh, God, is this real? Is he really here?”

“I think… I think it is, Carter.”

“Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said so softly Daniel barely heard him. He waited for his friend to expound, to deliver a more substantial message, because Teal’c never spoke without purpose. Nothing more came, and he was stunned.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you all to step back now. D-daniel’s not going anywhere this time,” Doctor Fraiser cut in, not as shakily as earlier.

“Not going anywhere,” Jack repeated, voice still so clear even through the static heralding unconsciousness. Daniel faded, but instead of going to the dark, everything was brilliant. “Staying with us.”

Not real brilliance, remembered. He…

“Glow me.”

Irresistible bliss. Daniel somehow knew he had had it, though he could not remember. He had vague feelings of warmth, contentment, security. There were none of those here. Darkness oppressed light, cold and harshness reigned and, with a mental sob, he lapsed into artificial sleep.

Folding her arms around her chest, Sam tucked both of her hands close to her body. The thumb and forefinger of her right instantly sought the skin under her arm and pinched harshly. She didn’t have much to squeeze but her brother had taught her early on in life that the tiniest of pinches hurt far more than big ones, so she snagged a millimeter of skin and dug her fingernails in. Reveling in the reality of the self-inflicted pain, she bit her lip to prevent any hint of her physical and emotional distress from escaping. Not that stoicism was really still attainable—the hot tears kept trickling down her face and belied any inkling of emotional control.

She should be overjoyed at Daniel’s return, but the tears were only partially ones of happiness. Deep within the turmoil, she knew there was a pocket of unadulterated elation; she wished she could grab it and bring it to the surface, where it should be. But this was too much. Her head throbbed and her heart ached with a mix of emotions that should never be combined, like a science experiment gone incredibly wrong. Explosion. Panic and chaos. Swiftly regaining enough professionalism to function, Janet reasserted her medical authority and summarily dismissed General Hammond, the colonel, Teal’c and herself. Sam heard the order but she couldn’t budge, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe.

“Come on, Jack, we need to get out of Doctor Fraiser’s way,” General Hammond gruffly said, and his use of her CO’s first name jump started her lungs.

She jerked her arms back down to her sides, immediately missing the sharpness of the pinch while still holding on to the lingering tenderness. Fixing her eyes on Colonel O’Neill, Sam mutely watched the general briefly touch the man’s right elbow as a means of silent guidance. The colonel stumbled back, his arms remaining extended though his hands no longer touched Daniel. The three men who were spectators with her withdrew but, as they did so, her feet carried her forward until she stood in the exact spot her CO had just abandoned. She raised her left hand, placing it on her motionless friend’s covered arm.

“Sam?” Janet murmured, across from her at Daniel’s other side. “Are you okay?”

Wiping the cooling tears from her cheeks, Sam insincerely nodded. She rubbed her damp fingers along her thigh to dry them, kept rubbing until they were warmed by the friction. Nothing like okay. Squeezing Daniel’s arm, she couldn’t bring herself to release him.

“Carter?” The colonel sounded… different than he had since Daniel… since he di… God, she couldn’t even think, was afraid if she did, then this gift would somehow be taken from them. “Hey, Carter.”

Sounds of Daniel in extreme agony invaded her ears, visions of him ineffectually trying to escape the phantoms his mind had created filled her eyes. That wasn’t right, that wasn’t how it had been, not until she’d stupidly tried to help. Had it? Sam tightened her grip even more, the fabric of the blanket Janet had wrapped Daniel with coarse under her hand. Solid. Real. This was happening, it was. Her legs shook. No, she trembled like Jello, every inch of her. Shock.

“Janet, what do you think is going on?” she burst, unlocking her eyes from her own hand and the person it held. Staring at Janet so the other woman couldn’t evade her, Sam belatedly realized how her voice had sounded as though she were speaking from deep within a cave.

“Please, Sam. Give me time.” Janet’s brown eyes were shimmering with their own tears of shock and as much confusion as she herself felt.

Time. Janet was right, speculation was pointless at the moment. But Sam needed to hear it, needed to know. Didn’t have the chance as Teal’c wrapped an arm around her shoulders and forcibly steered her away. Her hand was reluctant to relinquish its hold, frantically clutching at the blanket, as if it had will of its own, until it became obvious the battle was untenable and could not be won. Unable to look away, her neck turned to a painful degree and she gazed unblinkingly at Daniel. So still and peaceful now, thankfully. But if she didn’t know who was lying on that gurney, she would never have recognized him.

Over the course of the last six months, she had frequently stolen moments in Daniel’s old office, when no one was looking and when whichever terrible excuse for a replacement had not been present. There, she had touched his things and tried to remember his face. Her ultimate betrayal of a dear friend had come too quickly when, after only two months, she found she couldn’t piece him together in her mind. She’d had to run to her own lab and dig out every picture she had stashed, studying each one carefully. The pictures had kept her sane when the ache of Daniel’s loss declared itself over and over again. Those bouts, though, had started to come more sporadically, and Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d sought refuge in her friend’s likeness. She didn’t need to view the photographs any longer, their images were indelibly imprinted in her memory. Daniel was imprinted there, where she would never forget him again. She couldn’t deny Daniel was Daniel

But he looked nothing at all like her remembered images from the pictures.

Even lying so motionless, there seemed to be a certain vitality pouring from him. Life. A camera could never capture such a thing, even when the photograph was taken at the precise moment a person let his or her guard down, revealing the true self. No, there was always something flat and dull about pictures; they were not good representations of people at all. She didn’t know how Daniel had come to be here, didn’t even really care. She just knew she would remember every misplaced hair on his head and every smudge of dirt hiding his face. Taking a mental photograph, she committed everything to memory as she finally turned away. She would remember.

“Are you okay, Major Carter?” General Hammond tenderly asked her as Teal’c pulled her to the infirmary doorway, where he stood with the colonel.

She wished people would stop asking her that. And she was not even close to okay, but getting there. Sam nodded and began the tough process of regaining control, slightly embarrassed by her flighty behavior. One peek at her companions told her the embarrassment wasn’t warranted, as all of them bore continued slack expressions of shock. Their world had just been punted across the universe as if it were a football. She shrugged from the arm around her back and turned around to watch Janet at work. On Daniel. Daniel. No matter how many times she silently repeated his name, she wouldn’t tire of it. Her friend was back.

“Nobody can know about this, sir,” Colonel O’Neill hollowly whispered. The unexpected speech made her glance over to her CO, and she found his face suddenly awash with determination. Hope. Soul. Sam smiled, though not because of his verbal message as he repeated, “No one.”

“I think keeping this a secret for long is going to be quite a challenge, Colonel.”

NID. Sam lost her smile and stiffened her back until there was a ball of tension in the small of it.

“He obviously doesn’t know where the hell he’s been for six months, or how he just happened to return to the land of the living, sir. No good would come from NID hearing about this. You heard him, he was reliving…”

“I know, son. I have no intention of letting Doctor Jackson out of this mountain,” the general assured.

“He wasn’t,” Sam bleated. The general’s words weren’t reassuring, and the sentence her CO had left dangling was alarming. This wasn’t how it had been for Daniel before.

“Major Carter, to what are you referring?”

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, interrupting the scene playing out at Daniel’s bedside for a moment. When she removed her hands, she once again saw her friend being attended to by medical personnel, a bundle of gray amid so much white. He wasn’t moving, as still as he’d been when her father had begun healing him. Not writhing and moaning in pain, not like what he’d just been doing.

“Just because he wasn’t showing it very much doesn’t mean he wasn’t in excruciating agony,” the colonel indirectly answered both Teal’c's question and her unasked one, his voice oddly flat. She was a fool for allowing herself the fantasy that Daniel hadn’t suffered too much. How could he not have suffered while his insides had melted? God. “You knew it then, and you know it now.”

“I know… God, I know,” she admitted.

Of course she had known the terrible effects of radiation poisoning but she’d taken the staid manner her friend had faced it with and lived off it in the months since his departure. Seeing the truth laid bare now, even if a replay of past events, chilled her bone deep. If Daniel had shown then how much he had been hurting, she never would have made it. Sam wondered if her friend had consciously hid most of his pain for all of them, or if he had done it just because he was Daniel. Likely a combination of both, she thought. It really didn’t matter.

Absurdly, Sam needed reconfirmation she wasn’t dreaming. She stared over to the unconscious man just to make sure his skin wasn’t blistered and ugly with burns. There were none and someone had finally sponged most of the grime from Daniel’s face, leaving it pristinely white. Porcelain pale, almost glowingly so. She lurched backward a few steps, bumping into the colonel before her shoulders smacked into the doorframe. Swallowing past a huge lump, she forced the idea away before it formed completely and came true. Daniel was not going to ascend, leave them. Another ridiculous reaction. She shook her head as her CO clasped her right forearm to provide stability and he kept his touch brief, dropping his hand after a mere second.

“Do you think he’ll be… like that when he wakes up again?” Please, no.

“God, I hope not,” the colonel murmured, then noticeably stiffened.

She shot him a glance, just catching a look of absolute misery vacating his face in favor of the now customary shock. So far, none of them were doing a bang-up job of getting a hold of themselves. Straightening up, Sam broke from her reliance on the wall to keep her from falling over and was determined to finally accomplish at least external control. She succeeded only until her eyes roamed over to Daniel as if he were magnetically charged, and she saw him in the throes of another weak seizure of pain. Stumbling forward two steps, she was halted when Teal’c inserted himself directly in her path.

“We must wait here, Major Carter,” he gently reprimanded.

Blinking, Sam peered around her large friend and was startled to realize Daniel was not moving at all. What she had just seen had been a figment of her tortured imagination. She snuffed out a shaky breath and slumped her shoulders, bringing a hand up to dishevel it through her hair.

“Perhaps we should move to the briefing room until Doctor Fraiser can complete her examination,” General Hammond suggested. “We have a number of things to discuss.”

This time, the particular idea to leave was not abhorrent to her. As long as she remained here, she just knew she would be haunted by continual imaginings and wouldn’t be able to move past them. She looked up into Teal’c's face, saw a preoccupied expression that was atypical for him. Cringing, she had to avert her eyes. And she knew when Daniel woke up again, he would need them to be strong. To be themselves in a world that would probably consist only of confusion for him.

“Right.”

The colonel immediately spun around and walked out of the room as if it had only suddenly become an uncomfortable place to be. Trailing after him, General Hammond’s steps were stiltedly jerky, apparently reluctant to obey his own command. Sam took one last look over to Daniel, then silently followed them. Teal’c was at her heels, though he walked much slower than usual.

Journeying to the briefing room was a bizarre experience—everyone in the mountain had clearly heard the news and nearly leaped out of their way, parting to the left and right. She felt as though she were part of a funeral procession, cars driving slowly down with lights on in broad daylight, with other vehicles stuttering around as if they didn’t know what to do other than get out of the way. Like death was contagious. It wasn’t an apt comparison, she realized, because they weren’t in mourning. Anymore. She wanted to smile at them all, to prove her happiness. Couldn’t make the muscles of her face cooperate, so she ducked her head to avoid the curious stares instead.

The general was right; there was no way they were going to keep Daniel’s return quiet for long. Buzzing whispers started up as soon as their silent convoy passed, and Sam envisioned the SGC rumor mill running with full force. She’d be surprised if the news hadn’t already escaped the mountain. Yanking her roughly from her stupor, the thoughts agitated in her head. She wasn’t actually afraid NID might try to snag Daniel for their own ‘research’, because they had never made an attempt to do so with her even though she possessed knowledge of a Tok’ra. Being kidnapped by a private civilian group, on the other hand… she dismissed that fiasco altogether.

Aside from several lengthy interviews, they hadn’t bothered with Jonas either. Granted, the Kelownans had been significantly behind Earth as far as technology went, and Quinn had only been a political advisor with limited knowledge. She absently remembered she had heard he was apparently excelling in his role as research assistant at the Groom Lake facility. She had tried to be nice to the man, the longest lasting of the replacements, but she had been pleasantly surprised when he had stepped down from his crusade to ‘finish Daniel’s quest’. No one could do that but Daniel himself, and now he’d have that chance. Glancing back at Teal’c to see if her semi-negative thoughts were being transmitted to her astute friend and froze when something struck her full on, like a blow to the face.

The dark side of the military had tried to make Teal’c a laboratory rat. Twice. Chewing her lip, she tried to shake the feeling that all of her previous justifications meant absolutely nothing. It didn’t work, as she remembered her house being bugged, monitored, eventually surrounded in order to entrap her and catch Orlin. Who had the same powers Daniel had had for six months.

Oh, God, she was going to be sick.

Finding the wall, she once again used the steady support it freely offered. She didn’t have it for long, Teal’c touching her shoulder gently and nodding his head toward something. They’d arrived at the briefing room. Though her head and stomach swirled, Sam managed to shove herself forward and into the brightly lit room. She didn’t even remember taking the elevator down here. Shakily, she sank down into the first chair she stumbled upon and stared at the woodgrained table.

“It’s probably a bit early to ask this question, but it’s likely the foremost on all of your minds. What does Doctor Jackson’s return mean to SG1?”

Oh, shit. She hadn’t even given that a thought, too busy playing conspiracy theory. The happiness at the prospect the general’s question provoked in her duked it out with a different, niggling yet evasive emotion.

“What do you mean, what does it mean? What kind of question is that, anyway? As soon as he’s able, I want Daniel back on the team, General,” the colonel incredulously spouted back. It was most he had spoken since Daniel had shown up on the ‘gateroom ramp, Sam absently noted, and his words were precisely what she would have predicted him to say.

“That’s what we all want, Jack,” General Hammond soothed. “Of course it is. But you do realize that it’s far too early to determine whether or not that’s even a possibility. We have no idea Daniel’s condition, whether or not he’ll be able to return to duty.”

Daniel was fine, Danielwasfine. Sam didn’t like what the general was intimating at all, and definitely didn’t like that he’d just used both her CO and Daniel’s first name. Daniel was fine and he was going to come back onto SG1.

“Physically or mentally.”

Oh, God. For all they knew, Daniel was trapped in a horrific mental time loop, reliving the deterioration of his body over and over and over again. Jesus. Jesus. Sam felt herself quivering with dismay at the idea. Tried not to think about it. Wasn’t happening. Wasn’t going to. No, it was only a matter of Daniel seemingly having no knowledge of his whereabouts for the last six months. Other than not remembering what it was like to be a being on a higher level, which ruled out NID interest, her friend was fine. He was, she avowed to herself

Why didn’t that offer any comfort at all?

The spiritual level Daniel Jackson must have reached to ascend to the ranks of those beings who assisted Jaffa along a similar journey should have been enough to inspire awe and assuage the pain of losing a good friend. It was what he aspired to achieve, and yet every day since his friend had accomplished the feat was one filled with hollowness. Teal’c had not been able to come to terms or alleviate with his selfish reaction to Daniel Jackson’s fortune. Now it was too late to accept and, worse, he could not bring himself to grieve for his friend’s fall. He swallowed.

“Physically or mentally,” General Hammond finished, unnecessarily clarifying.

Teal’c watched the emotions traipse across O’Neill’s face at General Hammond’s implication and wished he could afford himself the luxury of mirroring those expressions. Internally, he was as distraught as his human companions but knew very little of it showed on the surface. It did not matter if he could not exhibit his frustration and worry as they could; they understood.

“Is not such speculation premature, General Hammond?” he inquired, repeating what they had all already said multiple times. Repeating what they all needed to believe.

While he knew it did no one any good to allow imagination full reign until Doctor Fraiser issued a prognosis, Teal’c could not prevent the persistent images of Daniel Jackson from taking primacy in his mind. For a disturbing length of time, he had felt as though he could not budge, could not breathe. Could not believe. Hoping he would be able regain structure of thought once away from the distracting view of his unconscious friend, he had agreed with General Hammond’s suggestion to depart the infirmary and was perturbed that it appeared that strategy was ineffective. The thought Daniel Jackson might not rejoin SG1 was unfathomable, and it had stalked him here.

“I suppose it is, Teal’c,” General Hammond agreed, pausing to stare down at his clasped hands. “But you saw him in there. We all did.”

“Okay, we saw him. Now let’s put ourselves in his…shoes. I really think a little disorientation is to be expected, don’t you? I mean, he went from being a glowy blob to being flesh and blood again and we have no idea how. It’s damn scary enough from an outside perspective—imagine what he’s going through!” O’Neill said, pitch rising with agitation. “But this is Daniel. He’ll be fine.”

“I wish it were guaranteed to be that simple, Colonel.”

Turning to the room’s entrance, Teal’c watched Doctor Fraiser tentatively step over the threshold. Her face was cast downward, a tactic he immediately recognized as one to avoid more than just the stares of those already inhabiting the briefing room. It was also to disguise the doubt she herself felt regarding Daniel Jackson’s diagnosis and continued health. His interpretation of her body language did nothing to allay his concerns and he straightened in his chair, looking to his companions to gauge their reactions. They had reached the same conclusion, their expressions still a fusion of pain and desperate hope. In O’Neill’s features, Teal’c believed there was something more. A lingering sadness, perhaps, but for what he did not know.

The room was thunderous with silence for one full minute as they waited for Doctor Fraiser to continue. Inching over to the unoccupied chair at his right, the small woman clutched a manila folder to her chest as she situated herself. Nervously, she fidgeted around, first placing the folder down, then picking it up again, and finally dropping it when General Hammond cleared his throat. The limits of his patience had almost been reached, and Teal’c wished she would speak. She bent back one corner of the file and flicked it.

“Janet,” Major Carter prompted at last, her voice as thick with tension as the atmosphere in the room.

The effect on Doctor Fraiser was immediate, her head snapping up and her eyes moving away from the devout attention they had had on the folder to lock onto Major Carter. As customary during times of high stress, his symbiote fluttered around in its pouch as they all waited for the desired information to be imparted. His own earlier assertion that speculation was futile abandoned him as scenario after horrific scenario ran through his thoughts. The worst one—the one in which Daniel Jackson’s return to corporeal form was accompanied by a resurgence of the radiation that had been the cause for the ascension—had only partially run its course before the doctor finally began speaking.

“Preliminary tests show that, other than shock, dehydration, slight contusions and cuts primarily on his feet, Daniel is actually physically fine. He is slightly undernourished, which makes me wonder how long he’s been in this state. It’s possible his… descension occurred as long as a week ago.”

“Wait a minute. A week? No way would it take him that long to figure out how to get here, and I doubt he’d have taken the route he did voluntarily. ”

“Colonel, please. I’m not making any concrete assertions, simply guessing based on his condition. The process of ascension and descension are completely foreign to me, so what I’m seeing could simply be side effects of both.”

“Wha…” Major Carter began, clearing her throat before the completion of the first word. Teal’c automatically surveyed the room to determine if there was a pitcher of water at the ready, as per usual. There was not. “What about brain function? He seemed so out of it, confused, as if he were trapped in the past. Back when he—”

“There were no indications of trauma to the head and I sent his MRI to be reviewed by a neurologist to make sure I didn’t miss anything. And before you ask, yes, this is standard operating procedure,” Doctor Fraiser interrupted before Major Carter could give voice to what none of them wanted to hear out loud. Irrationally, Teal’c thought perhaps he even believed that it could not possibly be true if it remained implicit. “I can’t really give you a reason for Daniel exhibiting a level of pain and distress comparable to that which he suffered under the effects of the radiation just yet.”

Suddenly, then, the unspeakable became a bell tolling in his head, though the menacing sound was not for him. It was for Daniel Jackson. Teal’c knew he was being a fool, projecting illogical ideas to the forefront of his mind, where they rooted and came to life. It had been easy to pretend Daniel Jackson had merely been overcome by the shock of his return to human form, and that his references to the Kelownan naquadriah reactor a happenstance of unusual circumstances. He was not the only one who had employed such evasion tactics, one look at General Hammond said as much, and he could not forget Major Carter’s open denial. A loud slapping noise jarred him and he turned to see O’Neill with his right palm flat on the table before him, face slightly flushed.

“Maybe Oma Desala removed parts of his memory. Maybe coming back to a solid being is such a terrible experience his mind doesn’t want to remember. Maybe none of this matters, because Daniel is here now and when he wakes up he’ll be just fine!”

O’Neill, it would seem, was experiencing a somewhat different form of denial. Ringing throughout the room, his friend’s words represented a man who clung desperately to the idea that all would be magically healed. He knew this was rarely the case in life. He also knew O’Neill was not injudicious and did not readily succumb to idealistic beliefs such as those he espoused regarding Daniel Jackson. Intently studying the harried man, Teal’c briefly witnessed a disturbing darkness cloud passionate brown eyes. Haunted eyes, something so deeply imbedded within it looked as though it were threatening to rupture completely free.

The room remained silent for a moment while everyone stared at O’Neill as he lifted his hand and began rubbing the palm with the thumb of his left. With erratic motions, the colonel shoved his chair away from the table and rose to his feet. Tensing, Teal’c prepared himself to restrain his friend if it became necessary. No, it was not anger that possessed his friend, not violence. He watched O’Neill stalk toward the window that overlooked the embarkation room, where he stood with his legs locked and far apart. In the reflection, he saw how tightly O’Neill had his arms crossed over his chest. Unsettled by an instant remembrance of Daniel Jackson standing precisely so, he blinked several times but did not remove his gaze.

“That’s just it, sir,” Doctor Fraiser forged ahead and broke the awkward hush with a gentle whisper. “Until Daniel wakes up, there is very little any of us can do but attend to his physical needs. In and of itself, I know this information isn’t what you wanted but at least there is nothing negative to report.”

“Can we go see him?” O’Neill asked, sounding very much as though the request was one of need, not want. A fine line customarily separated the two but now Teal’c felt as though there were a vast space.

“Colonel, we aren’t finished discussing the probable ramifications of all this,” General Hammond negated.

Teal’c knew the remonstration would be unsuccessful before the SGC commander had concluded it and he was correct.

“The doc just said she still doesn’t know anything! What is the point of playing the what-if game? Going through the same crap over and over is a waste of time. Either Daniel remembers it all or he doesn’t; either NID will want him or they won’t. One damn thing is for certain—sooner or later, and I don’t care which, Daniel will be back on SG1.”

Finality resonated in O’Neill’s declaration. The last word had unmistakably been spoken and all in the room must have sensed it as strongly as he. Still with his back to them, O’Neill’s mirrored face was vivid with tension, as if he were angry rather than merely agitated. Teal’c frowned slightly and wondered the focus on which that perceived anger was directed. Logically, he could conclude it was General Hammond’s persistence of duty. He did not believe logic was his ally in this case. Briefly turning back to measure Major Carter’s reaction, he saw her face was as pale as ever, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill once again. He reached out and blanketed her clasped hands with one of his own. Automatically, she loosened her knotted fingers and threaded them through his. A surge of comfortable warmth rose within and he squeezed her hands.

“Will we be permitted admittance to the infirmary, Doctor Fraiser?” he inquired, reasserting O’Neill’s initial request.

“I don’t know why not,” Doctor Fraiser sighed, index finger still flicking the corner of Daniel Jackson’s medical folder. The tiny rustling sound her action produced filled the briefing room and made him want to stop up his ears. “General Hammond?”

“Very well.”

O’Neill broke from his lock-legged stance upon General Hammond’s resigned assent and departed the room without uttering another word. Raising an eyebrow, Teal’c solemnly watched until the other man disappeared from view before he withdrew his hand from Major Carter with one final bit of pressure and stood. She slowly followed suit, exhaling a long, shaky breath and absently rubbing her right hand along the outside of her thigh as if her muscles needed the massage or her fingers were unclean. Taking a step away from the table, Major Carter stumbled slightly but quickly righted herself. The commonplace action reminded him of how the events of the past hour had made them all stagger backward emotionally and mentally if not physically. He did not know whether or not all of them would catch themselves before falling. If Daniel Jackson…

So much depended on their formerly absent teammate.

The weight of Daniel Jackson’s burden was such that he felt it upon his own shoulders. It was cumbersome and profound with such magnitude he only wished him bearing some of it would be of assistance to his friend. Frivolous thought. The burden was not one to be shared, nor was it one in which his friend would have an opportunity to overcome. It either was or it was not. Snapping his head up when he realized he had been staring at the conference table’s top, Teal’c waited for Major Carter to begin the journey back to the infirmary. He moved only after she had done so, following her into the corridor. General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser remained seated.

“Teal’c,” Major Carter said as he reached her side.

Expecting her to make additional statements, he said nothing. She did not speak further, simply looked up at him noiselessly. Words were not necessary for either of them. They continued on to the elevator in quietude, and in such silence, Teal’c realized their brief departure from the infirmary had merely been General Hammond’s attempt to keep from faltering. Glancing back in the direction of the briefing room, he was disappointed when there was no sign the general was going to join them. It would only take time, he reminded himself, and of that there was ample. The floor beneath his feet suddenly seemed more stable and he calmly stepped onto the waiting elevator cab.

It took less time to reach the infirmary than it had the reverse. Perhaps it only appeared that way due to his strong desire to see Daniel Jackson awaken. Whatever the cause, Teal’c was glad when he and Major Carter stepped through the infirmary door and out of sight of inquisitive stares and uncomfortable smiles of the personnel they encountered along the way. Normally, such things would not affect him but in this instance, he found the charged atmosphere of the SGC intolerable. All of his agitation for the innocent curiosity dissipated as soon as he located bed in which his friend lay. Unfortunately, it was immediately replaced with another variation of disturbance. The floor was no longer solid.

Naming precisely what it was about the scene that was disquieting was difficult. Impossible. Nonetheless, Teal’c sensed the wrongness from a significant distance. Something almost tangible hovered over the man on the bed and the man standing next to it, a cloud with indeterminate meaning. Of all of them, he believed O’Neill to be the one who should be most pleased by Daniel Jackson’s appearance. He had been the last to see and speak with the archaeologist, an encounter O’Neill of which had never shared details. Teal’c wondered again what had taken place on that higher plane just prior to Daniel Jackson’s ascension, what might have caused this strange tension.

Glancing over at Major Carter to determine if she also felt the confliction, Teal’c saw nothing on her face to indicate this was so. He shook the feelings aside and chose to focus instead on the positive aspects of his friend’s return. Ultimately, the only issue of consequence was that Daniel Jackson was once again among them; any ancillary concerns would be dealt with accordingly and in such time as they may arise. He could hope none would present themselves but also knew better than to expect the next few days, possibly even weeks, to be without a certain amount of strife. Clenching his jaw, he realized he had ceased walking midway to the bedside, as if his feet had decided for his head that he did not truly wish to join the vigil. He began walking again, reaching the foot of the bed, where he stood silently. O’Neill did not acknowledge his or Major Carter’s presences.

Major Carter cleared her throat, walked gingerly to Daniel Jackson’s right side and reached out to enfold a limp hand in her own in a mirror of the embrace in which he had employed upon her in the briefing room. His eyes lit upon the entwined fingers, five of them healthy and pink while the other five were too white and thin. He could not avert his eyes. Coughing lowly, O’Neill shuffled around and away from the bed, momentarily distracting him but it was not enough to wholly break his attention. From the periphery of his vision, Teal’c witnessed O’Neill roll a chair back to the position upon which he had stood.

Randomly, he thought it would not be wise to obstruct the pathway of the medical personnel and almost vocalized the same. He then removed his gaze from the bed and once again encountered the strange expression on O’Neill’s face and refrained from speaking. It appeared to Teal’c as if his friend needed more than the rest of them from Daniel Jackson’s return. Something deeply inexplicable to him but very real.

The thought frightened him more than anything had in a great number of years, and he had seen and participated in terrible acts. If O’Neill did not receive what he so clearly required, the reunion of SG1 as it once had been would not take place, even with Daniel Jackson present again. Alarmed, Teal’c leaned his thighs against the unforgiving metal bed frame, the shock of cold from the wide slats burning like ice through his pants and into his skin. He slowly blinked once, as if doing so would change the image before his eyes. It did not. Turning away from O’Neill, he once again viewed Major Carter’s clasped hand, and then let his eyes rest on Daniel Jackson. His kalesh ached with the need for the figure on the bed to awaken, and to be as he once was. O’Neill coughed again, and he suddenly knew a fraction of what the other man was feeling.

They would wait together, and they would be whole again, for any other outcome was unimaginable.

Only Human
by Carrie

Trudging through the rough, rocky terrain back to the Stargate, Jack looked around at his team. All of their faces were downcast and somber, indicative of the grim atmosphere that had seemed to envelope SG1 lately. It had been a tough couple of months, tumultuous in negative events.

Daniel had been slowing retreating into himself, painfully reminding Jack of his own state of mind after Charlie’s death. He shuddered at the reminder of the total emptiness that had nearly replaced his soul. He didn’t want that for Daniel. Didn’t want that for anyone. It scared him more than he was willing to outwardly admit that the archaeologist seemed to be traveling swiftly down that path. It had been a long time since Jack had looked at his friend and seen anything other than an artifice of calm, a face masked in acceptance and normality. The eyes always gave Daniel away—once alight with hope and curiosity, they now reflected darkness.

The younger man wasn’t the only one in danger of that scenario. Teal’c had also become more reserved than usual. Jack nearly laughed out loud at that—with the Jaffa, it was difficult to actually determine a change in mood. Over the past couple of years, though, it had become easier. Teal’c was clearly wrapped in guilt for his role in Sha’uri’s death, so much so that Jack worried his friend might never be able to find inner balance again. That he could see evidence of such was enough of an indication that he should be worried.

And then there was Carter. Jack couldn’t read her nearly as well as Daniel and Teal’c, a fact he was both uncomfortable with and relieved by. As his 2IC, she was invaluable and he wouldn’t refute that but he always had the vague feeling there was more going on in her head than she wanted to share with him. Despite his inability to gauge her emotions, he sensed she had not fully recovered from seeing her alternate reality self such a short time ago. He shuddered, unsure if he himself had fully recovered from that experience. It had been…surreal. And awkward. Even so, that twisted, wacky experience couldn’t compare to what Daniel and Teal’c were living through.

No, things had not been smooth sailing for SG1, not by a far shot. The mental states of his team members were frustratingly out of his control, as much as he wanted to aid them in the journeys they had to respectively take on their own. One thing he always tried to do, though, was to lighten the mood whenever opportunity presented itself, as if levity would really make the Bad Stuff disappear. A futile tactic, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself. Especially not today, as the opportunities had abounded more readily than mosquitoes in Minnesota during the summertime.

“So, Daniel. Tell me.” Jack didn’t even bother keeping the lilt out of his voice. In fact, he upped it. “Those curiously shaped rocks? What were they supposed to be again?”

“Jack, you know very well on the UAV readings they appeared to be ruins of a civilization,” Daniel answered shortly.

“Okay, just checking. ‘Cause they just looked like a bunch of big rocks to me,” he innocently commented.

“Jack, give me a break! I’m sorry this mission was a monumental waste of time. I’m sorry we had to walk ten miles for nothing. All right?” Daniel spat, his face clearly broadcasting irritation at Jack’s teasing.

Jack contemplated halting his provocation for about a millisecond before thinking about listing several ailments…sore feet, aching back…to harass Daniel some more. He’d had so few opportunities to do that lately, hadn’t felt comfortable employing his method of therapy for the younger man’s benefit. Daniel responding so vehemently was a good sign. A mischievous grin spread like wildfire across his face. They had at least seven miles back to the ‘gate. Seven miles of tormenting his favorite archaeologist. What could possibly be better rehabilitation for his team? The banter might irritate them but he knew that, deep down, they enjoyed it.

“And why aren’t you bothering Sam about it? She analyzed the UAV readings with me, you know,” Daniel continued his complaints.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack caught the good major shooting Daniel a fierce glare. Ooh, if looks could kill, Daniel would be a dead man. Clich that might be, but he’d been on the receiving end of a few of Carter’s disparaging looks before and considered himself lucky to still be alive. Come to think of it, he’d got the exact same look from Sara. And Doctor Fraiser. And that woman who worked at Sergeant Davis’ post on occasion. Must be a female thing.

Jack had to admit Daniel made a valid point. Ahh, seven miles of antagonizing his favorite archaeologist and his favorite astrophysicist. That was definitely better than hassling only Daniel. Grinning, he felt immensely better about his team, worry notching down a bit in the hopes they were finally on the road to recovery. He curiously eyed the last member of his team, wondering if he could finagle a way to include Teal’c in the fun…

“Actually, I was just coming to that, Daniel. Patience, grasshopper,” Jack chided in a tone he knew was infuriating to the younger man. “Carter? Any scientific explanations?”

Casting Daniel one final chilly stare, Carter answered, “I can’t explain it, sir. The UAV images were clear. Those should have been the remains of structures. I just don’t understand.”

“C’mon, Carter! You’re seriously going to tell me the UAV somehow malfunctioned so bad it gave us completely incorrect information and sent us on this wild goose chase?” Jack loudly griped and waited for her to respond.

“No, of course not, sir! At least I don’t think.”

“Feeling a bit wishy-washy today, Carter?”

He knew he was pushing the ribbing session a bit too far but honestly couldn’t help himself sometimes, easily letting himself get lost in his own mirth. Hey, if anything, at least he was getting everyone else’s minds off heavier topics. Amazingly enough, if he kept telling himself that, the hesitation seemed to evaporate. He watched as Carter’s face contorted and turned a beautiful shade of pink. Oh, this was so worth it. Backing Daniel into a corner was a rare enough feat, but to reduce the major to stutters was an ultimate achievement. Sadly, his good time was cut short by the intruding and ever solemn voice of Teal’c.

“O’Neill, I do not believe there are any wild geese here to chase. Is there a purpose to this discussion? It would seem neither Daniel Jackson nor Major Carter are at fault for the UAV’s incorrect data or the distance of the ruins from the Stargate.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to glare.

“I’m not saying they’re at fault, Teal’c.”

“Huh. Could have fooled me,” Daniel muttered. “If you shook your finger at us any harder it would be in danger of falling right off.”

Carter snorted her agreement. Wait, how had his fun turned against him so quickly? Teal’c. The Jaffa had waved the ‘I’m a stranger in a strange land’ flag way longer than he had probably needed it. Jack had no doubt Teal’c had a full grasp on human customs and behaviors, knew what he was trying to do and apparently didn’t agree with his methodology. What a wet blanket. What a really rough time the big warrior must really be having. Sobering slightly, he clenched his jaw to contain the resurging concern.

And then said wet blanket came to a sudden stop directly in front of Jack, swatting his neck. Unable to halt his own forward movement, he plowed into the large Jaffa, gracelessly bounced off Teal’c and landed with a grunt on his butt. He fumbled around on the ground for a few seconds, attempting to salvage his dignity. Muffled chortles from the two youngest team members indicated he might as well give up that idea.

“Teal’c! What the hell did you stop for?” Jack grumbled as he rose, rubbing a cheekbone sore from the impact. He turned to his companion quizzically. Teal’c stood slightly slouched with an odd expression on his face. Odd was never a good thing. “Teal’c? What’s going on?”

Carter and Daniel stopped laughing at him and moved to either side of Teal’c, concern replacing amusement so quickly Jack was surprised he didn’t hear a snap or something.

“Teal’c?” Sam asked urgently, sounding nervous at the Jaffa’s lack of response.

She reached out a hand and laid it on the big man’s shoulder carefully. To Jack’s shock, Teal’c visibly flinched. What the hell? Oh, this wasn’t good.

“Teal’c!” Jack called out again, louder this time. To his relief, Teal’c finally reacted.

“O’Neill, I believe we should leave this place immediately. I feel…”

“What? What do you feel, Teal’c?” Carter asked.

Turning a dazed face to Carter, Teal’c looked puzzled. “I do not know. I am suddenly unable to feel the presence of my symbiote.”

“But it’s still there, right?” Daniel asked, a disturbed frown plastered on his face.

“Where the hell would it go, Daniel? Maybe Junior’s just taking a nap?”

“No. This is very uncomfortable. I do not know…” Teal’c stopped speaking again, apparently at a loss for words.

“Teal’c, besides not being able to feel Junior, is there anything else wrong? Any other weird sensations?” Jack prodded. He had a bad feeling about this.

“No. Physically, I am fine.”

Teal’c still appeared startled by whatever was going on inside him and he had to wonder if the other man was telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Jack scrutinized the big man. His friend didn’t look any the worse for wear, but if Teal’c voiced concern over something he listened. If he said they should vamoose, then vamoose they should. If there were physical problems, he was sure Teal’c would tell them when it was appropriate. To the Jaffa’s estimation, anyway. As far as he himself was concerned, it was appropriate now. He had to trust his friend to tell them, in his own time. Browbeating was not his style, at least not with his team.

“Okay then, kids, let’s get going. I’m sure Doc Fraiser will really love this one.”

Teal’c protectively wrapped an arm over his midsection and began walking again. Daniel took up occupancy next to him, jogging to keep up with the Jaffa’s long strides while he and Carter trailed behind them several meters. The archaeologist studied Teal’c's face closely and Jack shook his head. Daniel probably thought this was extremely fascinating. A part of him was gladdened to see the spark of his friend’s old self making an appearance at long last, but he was mostly irritated at the clinical approach the younger man used for interacting with Teal’c. There was still so much discomfort between the two that it sometimes actually hurt to witness.

“Teal’c, is this like when we were, uh, copied by Harlan? Can you sense anything from the larva, or is it just gone?” Daniel asked.

“For crying out loud, Daniel! He said he can’t feel it, so he can’t feel it!” Jack shouted, surprising himself with the ire projected in his voice.

He hadn’t meant to unleash that, and it was obviously the result of his agitation. Shooting him a baffled, somewhat hurt look, Daniel crinkled his eyebrows and made Jack feel like an asshole.

“It is simply gone, Daniel Jackson. I have vague memories of my life before I received my primta, but I would estimate I feel the same way now as I did as a child,” Teal’c calmly explained as if Jack hadn’t just yelled, apparently not perturbed by Daniel’s question.

The archaeologist relaxed enough to give a bare smile, probably picturing Teal’c as a boy. At least that’s what Jack was trying to do. He found it quite a difficult image to project.

“Interesting. I wonder what’s causing it? Something in the air? Sam, what do you think?”

Daniel turned around, walking backward as he waited for her response.

“MALP and UAV readings indicated an almost identical atmospheric match to Earth’s. No strange chemicals or particles in the air at all,” Carter sounded perplexed. She spoke about a million words a minute, physical evidence of how quickly her brain was working. “Teal’c, you said it happened all of a sudden? There weren’t any warning signals? Your larval Goa’uld wasn’t agitated prior to its…disappearance?”

“There was no indication or distress. I simply can no longer feel it,” Teal’c abruptly burst.

Whoa. Jack raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Carter. Teal’c sounded a bit irritable to him, and his 2IC’s startled face confirmed Teal’c's response was noticeably out of character. Daniel, still walking backward, stared incredulously at Teal’c. If Jack weren’t so concerned about the Jaffa, he would have wished for a camera. Both scientists’ mouths gaped opened stupidly, a sight not often seen. But the moment didn’t last. Daniel emitted a yelp as he suddenly tripped over a tree branch, solidly planting himself on the ground. The resultant thump was accompanied by rustling of grass, leaves, and, he thought, a muttered curse. Jack laughed at his young friend’s flustered face when Daniel finally managed to sit up.

“Well, you lasted longer going backward than I’d have bet. You should keep your eyes forward, Daniel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel shrugged off Jack’s teasing and stretched out his right hand. “Give me a hand, will you, Teal’c?”

Teal’c leaned down, grasped Daniel’s hand in his own and pulled him up with a slight groan. His face uncharacteristically scrunched into a frown, eyebrows furrowed tightly. “Daniel Jackson, have you increased your body mass?”

Jack couldn’t prevent a bark of laughter from emitting, and heard the major likewise struggle. Indignant, Daniel scorched him and Carter a glower at their chuckles. Brushing off his backside, he answered Teal’c somewhat defensively, “Uhm, no I haven’t, Teal’c. Why, do I feel heavier?”

“It took more effort to raise you up than usual, that is all.”

“Daniel, maybe you’d better lay off the chocolate; you are looking a little thick around the middle,” Jack teased, happy for the new opportunity to ruffle Daniel’s feathers.

“Shut up, Jack. I could mention the middle aged spread you’re starting to display,” Daniel shot back.

Jack rolled his eyes. It wasn’t so long ago Daniel would have taken his teasing without rebuttal and he had to admit it was great to see the scientist rising to the bait. Actually, it increased the enjoyment considerably. The archaeologist’s abnormally quietude these past couple of weeks had been almost as hard on the rest of SG1 as the young man himself. Since Sha’uri’s death, Jack corrected himself. Almost as hard. God, a widower at thirty-four.

Sobering again, Jack watched Daniel brush off his butt. The younger man hadn’t gained any weight. In fact, he looked thinner than Jack had ever seen him, something he hadn’t really noticed until just now. No, he’d seen it; he’d just blamed it on that damned short haircut. It wasn’t a valid excuse. The fact of the matter was that Daniel likely wasn’t eating properly. Which made Teal’c's little problem…hmm, odd. With a frown, he automatically looked to the Jaffa. Teal’c was sweating and seemed out of breath, though they were traveling at an easy pace, hadn’t gone far and Daniel was light enough even Carter wouldn’t have a problem hoisting him.

“Teal’c, you feeling all right?” Jack cautiously asked. “You look a little tired.”

“I am fine, O’Neill,” Teal’c solemnly answered, turning his back and beginning the trek again.

He just stood for a moment, watching Teal’c and Daniel continue on. Daniel darted frequent looks to his walking companion, concern evident on his face. Jack should have been heartened by the increased interaction between the pair but the sense that there was something not right here overshadowed anything remotely positive in the situation. He concluded that Teal’c was right, they needed to get off this rock fast. A hand on his forearm snapped him out of his reverie.

Carter gazed up at him, quietly asking, “Sir, what do you think’s going on with Teal’c? He’s acting really strange.”

“I don’t know, Carter. I think we need to keep a close eye on him, though. He doesn’t look well. Did you notice he’s worked up a sweat? We haven’t even gone a quarter of a mile. I just don’t like this.”

Jack ran a hand through his graying hair. He didn’t like this one little bit. At all. A fluttering, nervous sensation started in his belly, a warning sign. Something.

“Yeah, I noticed, sir. When he helped Daniel up it looked like it actually took effort. Usually Teal’c doesn’t have a problem with anyone’s weight, let alone Daniel’s,” Carter softly said, unconsciously confirming what he had thought.

“We should catch up with them,” Jack stated with a jerk of his head. Catch up and hustle back to the ‘gate.

The them in question were about a hundred and fifty feet ahead already. Daniel anxiously peered back at them, urging them forward. He and Carter hadn’t gone five steps when, out of nowhere, four huge Jaffa appeared, surrounding Teal’c.

“Hey!” Jack stupidly yelled, muscles tensing as he jerked into a run.

He watched as Teal’c brought his staff weapon about in defense, but one of the Jaffa easily wrenched it out of his hands while another brutally wrapped his arm around his team member’s throat. His heart tripped a beat at Teal’c's easy defeat and he picked up his pace. Daniel lunged toward Teal’c to give what aid he could, and Jack opened his mouth to tell Daniel to run like hell even though he knew the archaeologist would do no such thing. The other two Jaffa tackled the younger man to the ground, seemingly without effort.

Raising his MP5, Jack ran to his friends but was unable to get a clear shot at their attackers. Everything was happening all at once, in slow motion and too, too fast. Daniel struggled against the huge men on top of him, fumbling for his knife. He saw the archaeologist’s hand clasp around it and bring it around, jerking his hand toward one of the Jaffa. A loud roar told him that Daniel had connected with something, and he saw one of the Jaffa fall to the ground. Jack wanted to crow at Daniel’s success but his elation was very short lived. The other Jaffa pulled the knife from his fallen companion and arched it toward Daniel, plunging it violently into the young man’s thigh. Daniel screamed in agony before going scarily limp.

Eyes reluctantly leaving his downed team member to rest upon Teal’c, the sight they provided him wasn’t any better. Teal’c was still weakly fighting the chokehold, unable to free himself. Jack watched helplessly, still fifty feet away as the Jaffa scooped Daniel off the ground and moved to join the others. One of the Jaffa fumbled with some sort of device on his bicep and the group disappeared into thin air.

Gone, gone. He was sick.

Damnit! The attack couldn’t have lasted more than a minute! Where the hell had those Jaffa come from? And why the fuck hadn’t the UAV or the MALP picked up on any life signs? Jack skidded to a stop as he came to the dead Jaffa, angrily searching the body for indications of which Goa’uld they were dealing with.

“Sir?” Carter breathed heavily next to him. “Sir, what the hell just happened? Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know, Carter! They appeared and disappeared just like Hathor and Nirrti, but I don’t recognize this symbol do you?” Jack asked, indicating the tattoo on the Jaffa’s forehead.

“No, sir. Where could they have gone? Why didn’t the UAV detect any life signs?”

“Again, I don’t know, Carter,” Jack said impatiently, already tired of the unanswerable questions and the vocalization of what had been tripping through his own mind. “What I do know is that we have to find them. Teal’c should have been able to take at least two of them down. Bought time for us to get here.”

Jack wearily scrubbed both hands across his face. They’d gone from a wasted but harmless mission to losing two friends in mere minutes. He had no idea where to begin their search, and dreaded the fact that they might have to go back to the SGC without their missing teammates. Studying the sledgehammer shaped tattoo on the Jaffa’s forehead, he stood up.

“Come on, Carter. Let’s see if we can figure out where they might have gone. I’m not going to leave until I figure out exactly what’s going on here.”

“Yes, sir,” Carter answered, relief coloring her words. “But sir, where do we even begin?”

Jack swallowed and looked up to the sky, the sick feeling creeping into his veins and setting up camp. God, he hoped it wouldn’t build a house and take up permanent residence. He glared at Carter for her terrible offence.

Another unanswerable question.

Before he was aware of anything else, Daniel felt the cold and wet seep into him like a reptile, saturating his entire body and chilling him to the core. Shivering uncontrollably, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a damp cave of some sort. He rotated his head to take in his surroundings and revised that assessment…it was more like a sinkhole. Gathered in the middle of his prison, there was a large puddle of rank-smelling water, and he could hear liquid continuously trickling and dripping.

Groaning, he fought to sit up, wanting to get away from the cold and intense, shocking pain from his right leg made him gasp. He clutched it to alleviate the pain but his actions only served to increase the agony and he let his hands fall away quickly. Clenching his teeth in distress and frustration, Daniel peered down at his leg. Even in the dim light, he could see the gash was deep and still bleeding. He growled deep in his throat, shivering from what he suspected was the onset of shock. God, it hurt.

Where had those Jaffa come from? Daniel shuddered as he recalled the attack. He and Teal’c barely had a chance to fight before they were overpowered. Teal’c…Teal’c! The last image he had in his mind of his friend was unpleasant—Teal’c struggling in vain against two Jaffa. Searching the cave for signs of his Jaffa friend, he was disappointed when he discovered he was all alone.

He was sure their attackers had gone directly after Teal’c, who should have been able to take them down without any problem. It worried him that his friend had seemed to be suffering from some kind of ailment, which he was beginning to suspect was related to his inability to sense his larva. Daniel attempted to figure out exactly what was going on, trying to recall the markings on the Jaffa. He’d lost his glasses when they’d thrown him down and he never got a clear look at any of their faces. Did it really matter who had them? A Goa’uld was a Goa’uld was a Goa’uld. And, to the best of his knowledge, to be had by one of them was intrinsically a bad thing. Shuffling around to search the remote, dark corners of the sinkhole for Teal’c one more futile time, he groaned at the agitation the action caused and let his head drop to the ground. Damnit. This sucked.

With that intelligent, O’Neillian thought, his mind naturally turned to Jack and Sam, wondering if they had also been captured. They both had run to aid during the attack, but Daniel couldn’t recall if they had actually made it to them. He hoped not, both for their sakes and for his and Teal’c's. He had heard them shouting, and had tried to turn to them. Until the knife cut into him. After that, there was nothing. God, what he wouldn’t give for just a snippet of information. Anything. Suspecting anything he might get would be disagreeable, he decided he’d bank on that his other team members had escaped. They had to have.

Damn, his leg hurt. Daniel knew if he didn’t stop the bleeding and cover the wound he’d be in trouble. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but the fact that it still bled freely concerned him. Shouldn’t it have stopped by now? How much blood had he lost? He still felt fairly clear-headed and he figured that was a good sign. Ac-centuate the positive, e-liminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative…but don’t mess with Mr. In Between. Great. There went his clear-headedness. He snickered, though it wasn’t funny at all.

Removing the belt from his pants, Daniel cringed as he carefully wrapped it around his thigh. Even the slightest touch to his leg was torture. Hands shaky, he tightened the tourniquet. Brilliant splotches of red encompassed his vision and he felt himself starting to hyperventilate. Stay calm, stay calm, he chanted to himself, trying to focus on happy things. He could never figure out why people said to do that but thought it was worth a shot. Happy things…Sam’s face when she figured out a particularly difficult problem, Jack’s sometimes obnoxious jokes, Teal’c's insatiable curiosity to learn Earth customs, Sha’uri…

The physical pain instantly disappeared, replaced with heartache. A month. A little over a month since she had died. Daniel felt the darkness that had only begun to recede slinking back into him. For three years he had dreamed of reuniting with her, of somehow figuring out a way to free her from Amaunet. Three years ending so cruelly as she was cut down by a friend. Teal’c had avoided him for two weeks following her death.

Daniel had been grateful for his absence.

Despite the fact he told Teal’c he’d done the right thing, he found himself unable to look at his Jaffa friend and taking routes through the Mountain where he knew he would never cross paths with the other man. Deep down, he knew Teal’c had acted in the best interest of everyone but he was only human. God, he didn’t even know how he was supposed to handle his wife just simply dying… how was he supposed to handle a friend killing her? The How-To Guide to Life edition he’d read had apparently glossed over that nasty chapter.

He fiercely shook his head. Now was not the time to dredge up these feelings. Teal’c was in trouble, wherever he was. That was the important thing here, not his inability to get beyond Sha’uri’s death, and Daniel was determined to find him. He had to get out of this hole somehow. Looking up, he noted the opening above was unguarded and sinkhole wasn’t too deep—he might be able to climb out. It was worth a shot, anyway. All three of his teammates would make the attempt, no matter the potential hazard. So would he.

Rolling over onto his left side, Daniel readied himself to rise. He kept his right leg as straight as possible, shifting all his weight onto his left knee and pushing up with his arms. Fire seared, stemming from the wound and he immediately fell face down, gasping once again. Useless. He couldn’t even stand! A sob of frustration built in his chest, wanting release. He refused, swallowing past the overwhelming emotion. Balling his fists at his side, he slid onto his back. It even hurt to breathe now. Concentrating on keeping his inhalations shallow and even, he scrunched his eyes shut and folded an arm across them.

The rhythm of the dripping water continued, lulling him into a semi-conscious state, almost hypnotizing him. Daniel lay there for countless minutes, trying not to shiver with cold and shock, because even that slight movement sent ripples of pain through him. He wasn’t successful, his body taking away control. In the distance, though, he began to hear a different rhythm. Footsteps. Loud footsteps approaching from above, which meant that whoever was coming, it definitely wasn’t any of his friends. Groaning, he moved his arm away from his face and stared at the hole in the ceiling for what he knew was coming. The footfalls stopped directly above him, and four sullen faces suddenly appeared at the opening above.

They gazed down at him for a few seconds before one of them grunted, “Rise.”

Daniel couldn’t stop himself. He laughed weakly at the idiotic request and their apparent blindness to the hole in his leg. His laughter stopped when he felt a hard probe to the wound and he couldn’t stop himself—he screamed at the savage treatment, the ache of his leg turning into full-blown agony once more. The release helped only a very small amount, enough to aid him until the pain diluted into dull throbbing. So they weren’t blind, he grimly thought.

“Rise,” the Jaffa repeated smugly.

Drawing an unsteady breath, Daniel knew he had to do it or risk more abuse. The pain of rising couldn’t be as bad as anything they intended to inflict upon him if he didn’t comply. He could do it. Maybe…maybe they were going to take him to where Teal’c was. Clawing at the wall, he propped himself on his left knee and tried to ignore the burning in his right thigh. Ominous black appeared on the edges of his vision and just when he thought he was going to pass out, he felt something viciously hook him underneath both arms and he was yanked up through the hole.

The Jaffa deposited him callously onto the ground, purposely ensuring he landed on his right side. Daniel cried out again, barely clinging to consciousness as his leg gave more than a small protest at the violence, fire rocketing from the knife wound all the way to the base of his skull. Rumbles of laughter filtered through the fuzz in his head and he was lifted by his arms and dragged away from his dank prison. He tried to raise his head to watch where he was being taken but he couldn’t find the energy, wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway for the gray ghosting along the periphery of his vision. All he could do was concentrate on his breathing and he didn’t fight against the strong hands bruising his arms.

The journey was a short one, ending after only a few minutes. The Jaffa abruptly stopped and jostled him enough to aggravate his leg again, one of them jamming a fist on his thigh. Clenching his teeth tightly together, he was determined not to give them the satisfaction of another scream and allowed only a strangled gurgle to escape. Clumsily, Daniel wriggled against his captors’ holds with as much defiance as he could, for which he was promptly punished with an elbow to his left kidney.

His legs crumpled and the vises around his biceps painfully tightened, muttered Goa’uld curses about pitiful Tau’ris bouncing through the air. Gasping for air, his lungs lost the ground they’d gained in controlling intake and refused to cooperate. It didn’t help that this new room was significantly warmer than his former abode. Actually, it was hot. Way too hot. The shivers disappeared quickly, sweat already beginning to form along his brow. At least that meant they had been more from the cold than shock, a fact he was quite relieved about. Dying from shock was not on his top ten list of things to do…of course, neither was losing his leg to a massive infection. Another inappropriate snicker popped out of him before he could stop it. Tensing for repercussions, he was surprised when none came.

He cautiously lifted his head slightly and looked around. Sweat dripped into his eyes, further blurring his already impaired and uncorrected vision. Squinting, he discovered the room was some type of workshop. Daniel spotted a large furnace in the middle of the room, and eyed the tools scattered around. Blacksmith? Confused by the oddness of his surroundings, he didn’t even hear the scuffling footsteps heading his way until two legs blocked his entire field of vision. Immediately, he noticed the left foot was twisted in severely and the leg was about an inch shorter than the right. The ridiculously large contingent of Jaffa surrounding him stiffened, as if coming to attention. He frowned.

Tilting his head up to look at who he assumed was the ringleader of his captors, he was a bit puzzled that a Goa’uld would be handicapped. It certainly didn’t fit the usual modus operandi of any snakes he’d personally encountered, anyway. But, given the presence of Jaffa, Daniel could only assume the person standing before him was indeed a Goa’uld. The face that greeted him when his eyes finally focused was set in a permanent scowl, half covered with a flaming red scar that made the owner look like he was in eternal pain. No, he was wrong—this couldn’t be a Goa’uld, he decided. He’d yet to see a physically less than perfect one, and Teal’c had once told him the Goa’uld were very particular when they chose hosts. Beauty was of utmost importance, physical perfection key. Just like Sha’uri…God.

Heart aching from the image of his beautiful wife that had instantly materialized in his mind’s eye, he shook his head. No, this man was the opposite of everything the Goa’uld believed in for their hosts. He just didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. Black, angry eyes narrowed back at him, then opened wide again with a harsh golden flash. Daniel automatically jerked back in shock, a small stunned mew flying from his mouth. His mind raced to learn he assumed incorrectly, going through every pantheon of gods and goddesses on Earth to find a match for the monster that stood before him. Monster. Goa’uld. The Jaffa on his right belted him across the face to halt his movement and he slumped, watching the bursting stars attack his view.

Before he could see again, or come up with a name, the deformed Goa’uld spoke, his voice edged with hate, “You are Tau’ri, are you not?”

Daniel mutely gaped at him, blinking several slow blinks. He was still trying to cope with the misnomer standing before him. His brain was sluggish.

“Speak!” the Goa’uld roared, raising an amazingly well formed arm up as if to strike.

“Yes, I’m Tau’ri,” Daniel confirmed at last, successfully keeping a stutter from his question. Already, his hackles were rising dangerously, his bitterness toward anything Goa’uld manifesting itself with attitude in tone if not words. “And who might you be?”

The Goa’uld menacingly chuckled instead of answering, nodding at his Jaffa to haul him to his feet. Rough hands heaved him through the furnace room to the adjacent one, thankfully much cooler again but not as cool as his former prison. Barren save two platforms equipped with leather restraints in the center and various implements hanging on the walls, the room had a distinct air about it he could only inadequately describe as grim. It reminded him of a torture chamber or dungeon from a bad movie, which should have frightened him, he supposed, but it only made him want to chuckle. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

Chuckling was probably not a good idea, nor was resisting, despite his instinct to fight. Or run. So he acquiesced, playing meek and defenseless. It wasn’t that much of a stretch, given his leg wouldn’t let him do anything by way of escape. He was placed on one of the tables, and the Jaffa were summarily ordered out of the room, leaving him unshackled. Thrumming with adrenaline, his nerves were threadbare and he wildly reconsidered making a getaway attempt. He flicked his eyes at the door as the last of the bulky Jaffa departed, out of the corner of his eye caught the Goa’uld studying him. Once they were completely alone, the self-proclaimed god began hobbling around him slowly, rubbing his left hand all around the edge of the table. After several circles, the Goa’uld stopped at his waist, casually fitting the cuffs to both of his wrists.

“You are Daniel Jackson,” the dual voice stated as the crippled Goa’uld constricted the leather straps until they pinched uncomfortably.

Moving down toward his feet, the Goa’uld continued to watch his face, and Daniel schooled his features to reflect nothing of his surprise. He had only half believed Aris Boch when the bounty hunter had told them SG1 were highly sought after by the System Lords. Even this still-to-be-named Goa’uld knew of them, so he knew now Boch had been telling the truth. Oh, how he wished he hadn’t learned he was actually worth more than a day’s rations! He fervently prayed once more that Jack and Sam had gotten away.

“Do not try to deny it. Your face is a common one—wanted dead or alive. Preferably alive, of course. Think of all the wonderful acts of retribution a live subject could suffer at the hands of an angry Goa’uld…but you do not need to fear that from me. If I had any interest in the System Lords’ politics, I would have taken Colonel O’Neill and Cap…Major Carter as well. As it stands, my interest lies solely in your Shol’va friend. You simply got in the way.”

Relief flooded through Daniel. Jack and Sam were all right, thank God! He only had moments of reprieve before the remaining content of the Goa’uld’s words sunk in. Why Teal’c? He expected the alien to explain himself, which it apparently had no problem doing. Actually, he was surprised at how much information the lousy parasite was revealing. He remained silent, clamping down the urge to inquire about Teal’c. Wait for it.

“Since you happened to be there, I thought perhaps it would be useful and…nice to watch your reactions as I continue testing my latest weapons. Are you quite comfortable? I see your wound bleeds again, that is a shame. I can’t have you passing out or bleeding to death before the excitement really begins! Perhaps you could use a session in my sarcophagus?” the Goa’uld pondered.

“No!” Daniel reactively burst, dread filling him. The Goa’uld visibly perked up with interest, his vivid red scar lighting as his face twisted into a smile. Biting down hard on his tongue for his stupidity, he attempted to retrain his face into a blank mask.

“You object? Perhaps you have used our healing device before? It is no matter to me whether you suffer or not,” the Goa’uld jeered, leaning in close to Daniel’s face. “But I can’t have you dying. I have you, and so it only makes sense that I take advantage of my good fortune. I have very little contact with humans.”

A multitude of scalding, sarcastic comments came to mind and Daniel had to fight to keep them inside, some of them so base as to childishly insult the Goa’uld’s heritage. Damnit, Jack’s influence on him was stronger than he thought. Musingly, slowly, the alien looked him up and down as if he were a lab specimen. He was a lab specimen. Squirming slightly, he felt a sick feeling creep into his gut, an inkling of an idea he didn’t want to see or hear come into fruition.

“Yes, I think you will do quite nicely,” the Goa’uld said at last, stroking Daniel’s cheek with one finger. “I grow tired of my weak limbs and disfigured face—punishment of Sohkar. He will be the first to feel my wrath!”

A cold shaft of fear drove into Daniel as the Goa’uld laid out his intentions. No, he would not willingly use a sarcophagus and he’d be damned if this thing took him as a host. Without thinking, Daniel bucked helplessly on the table, arching his back in a foolish, panic-stricken act. The Goa’uld laughed, apparently amused by his antics. Limply, he fell back onto the tabletop as ensuing pain encompassed his leg.

“You have spirit. That will make this all the more entertaining. Jaffa, kree! Bring me the Shol’va.”

“Who are you?” Daniel gasped, weakly coughing.

“And I was told you possessed intelligence,” the Goa’uld sneered. “I am, of course, Hephaestus.”

Hephaestus…Hephaestus? Greek god of fire…

“You and your friend will bring me the recognition and power I deserve. The System Lords will no longer laugh at my lameness while they ungratefully take my inventions! Abandoned here for all time, working as a slave to their needs! I will not do it anymore,” Hephaestus laughed delightedly. “With my new body and my new weapons, I will rise up in the ranks as I should.”

Daniel frowned at the crazy laughter. What did Teal’c have that could aid Hephaestus? He flexed his arms but the restraints wouldn’t budge. Heart racing, Daniel tracked the Goa’uld as he paced around the room, impatiently waiting for Teal’c's arrival. The Goa’uld’s mutterings and unusual propensity to reveal information had him confused, and he tried to sort out the rambling. Out of context, nothing he could hear made sense.

Sudden movement at the doorway drew his and Hephaestus’ attention. Hanging between two Jaffa was Teal’c, half conscious, pale and terribly limp. Appalled by the sight of his formidable friend in such a debilitated state, he instinctively turned toward Teal’c as if he could provide aid or comfort. God, what had they done to him? Getting a closer look, Daniel took stock of Teal’c's condition, alarm rising at his findings. Teal’c's shirt was gone, revealing a torso covered with bruises, welts and burns. His arms were in the same shape. Judging from the unnatural angle his right arm was hanging, he would guess it was broken. Last item on the list, but certainly not the least, he saw a huge lump on his friend’s bald head.

“Put him on the other table,” Hephaestus ordered.

The Jaffa tossed Teal’c onto the unoccupied slab next to him, ignoring the groans of resulting pain. As horrible as the sounds were, Daniel was glad to hear his friend wasn’t totally unresponsive. He searched the other man for signs of any further damage, relieved when he did not see any. He wanted to call out, to let Teal’c know he was there but Hephaestus walked in between them, obstructing his view.

“I see my weapon does indeed work! It is only a matter of time before I can unleash it on all the System Lords’ armies!”

Daniel tried to puzzle what the Goa’uld was talking about. What weapon? Why…Teal’c! Oh, God, had Hephaestus somehow figured out how to disable the Jaffa’s larva? It made sense. Teal’c had started feeling strange before and he had noticed that it seemed to take more effort for his friend to perform normal activities…like helping him up. Looking at his friend again, this time with even more apprehension, he was dismayed to see a sheen of sweat on his face. Teal’c's external injuries were clearly not life threatening, yet the Jaffa was semi conscious and apparently in great pain. Why hadn’t he started healing? He had a bad feeling about the answer to that question.

“You’re insane! I know what you’re planning…” Daniel heard himself mutter.

“What? What did you say? You dare…” Hephaestus flashed his eyes and raced toward him with surprising agility. “I am not insane!”

The Goa’uld averted his fiery eyes, searching the room and locking on a point just above his shoulder. Unconsciously, Daniel looked to see a ribbon device hanging from a hook on the wall. Oh, God. The enraged alien hobbled over to it, put it on and aimed it at him.

Vulnerably strapped down, Daniel cringed as he saw the crystal start to glow. Not again! His wife’s lovely face sprang into his mind, cold and hard as her arm extended toward him with purpose. No. Not Sha’uri…Amaunet. Closing his eyes against that horrifying image and the new pain about to be inflicted, he waited for the assault on his brain to begin. Instead, he felt warmth spreading through his hurt leg, turning suddenly to raging, burning torture. He screamed as the pain seemed to go on forever, increasing until it engulfed him completely.

Just when Daniel thought it would never end, that he was trapped in a neverending hell, his world darkened to a prevailing blackness and he knew no more.

Sam wanted to ask the colonel what he expected to find up there, but she reconsidered before the thought was even halfway complete. Her CO’s mood had deteriorated rapidly after Teal’c and Daniel’s disappearance, as had her own. Risking the verbal slaying she would get if she made any inquiry to his logic was not really appealing, her ears still ringing from the last time. If the colonel thought climbing the tallest tree in the woods was a great idea, then he could go right ahead. Stuck on the ground, which refused to yield any answers, she chewed on the inside of her right cheek and tried not to let her brain acknowledge the many ‘what if’ scenarios floating vaguely around there. To say she was worried was a huge understatement.

Ringing in her ears, Daniel’s scream was as loud as ever…as was the contradictory disturbing silence from Teal’c. This shouldn’t have happened, and the possible reasons for how her Jaffa teammate had been so easily compromised refused to settle. Something told her that if she and the colonel didn’t find their friends soon, they would lose at least Teal’c. And probably Daniel as well. God, why hadn’t she sensed the Jaffa attackers before they had materialized? Sam violently kicked a rotting log, watching the soggy wood chip into the air and flop back onto the ground. It had been over fifteen minutes and she still had no idea what they should do.

She’d been in a funk for weeks, perturbed beyond reason about her alternate self. On the surface, Sam was pretty sure she had conveyed detached scientific curiosity and professionalism, but during that entire fiasco she had been a bundle of intense energy. For some reason, she hadn’t been able to accept the clear differences between her and…her. She still couldn’t. It had festered in the back of her mind, drowning out everything else, and was still there despite the desperate concern for Daniel and Teal’c. Shaking her head, she tried to dispel the useless thoughts. Why couldn’t she just let it go? She had to—for her friends.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, Sam peered up at the colonel swaying back and forth on the highest sturdy branch. He was scanning the area with his binoculars, trying desperately to find some clue as to where the Jaffa had come from and consequently where their friends were. There had been no further activity since their abduction and she thought it strange no additional Jaffa had sought them out. None of this made any sense—not the misleading UAV findings, not Teal’c's strange behavior, not the attack. She had a vague sense that they were all connected, but the thought remained intangible.

“Sir, any luck?” she braved, calling up quietly. Instinctively, she looked back down and scanned the perimeter of the small clearing she stood in for signs of any attackers. Nothing. Why not?

Wracking her memory, looking back on the attack, it had been apparent that the Jaffa had gone directly for Teal’c, ignoring the rest of them until Daniel had got in the way. They probably would have left him alone had he not attempted to fight them. And had killed one. She heard the colonel start his descent but kept her eyes pinned on her surroundings. His arm brushed against hers as he finally drew up next to her and she glanced at him to find a scowl still set firmly across his face. Sam sighed. He must not have seen anything. The thought of her friends in the hands of a Goa’uld finally overthrew her selfish wallowing, ashamedly late in doing so.

“Damnit, this planet is as empty as we thought it was. Is it possible this Goa’uld has a ship in orbit or something?” the colonel asked tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose in a gesture that somehow reminded her of Daniel. Her heart panged with fear for both of her missing friends.

“I don’t think so, sir. I mean, we’ve never seen anyone except the Asgard beam directly to and from their ships. The Goa’uld always use rings. I just don’t see how they could have engineered those to be invisible. We would have seen something. Or heard something,” Sam extrapolated, pushing aside feelings for logic once more. “At least I think we would have. They tend to surprise us with new technology…Teal’c's been out of the Goa’uld loop for almost four years.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” the colonel sighed, taking off his hat and scratching his head. He growled in frustration. “If they weren’t transported to some ship, they’re either still here or they’ve already made it to the ‘gate and could be anywhere. Shit, I wish I knew where to begin.”

As scary as that admission was, Sam was almost relieved to learn her CO was as much at a loss as she. No, she wasn’t at a loss but where her brain was telling her to go was not something she really wanted to do, or even give voice to. Sighing, she knew she had to sooner or later.

“It is theoretically possible the Goa’uld have developed the phase technology on a large enough scale to disguise an entire facility. That might explain why the UAV revealed ruins but when we arrived we saw nothing. This may sound far fetched, but it could be that this all was some elaborate trap.”

“Trap?”

“You don’t think it’s a little odd that we were surprised so completely? I don’t know, sir. I just have this feeling there’s more here than meets the eye. In case the Goa’uld did manage to hide a building, maybe we should go back to the SGC and get additional support,” Sam suggested tentatively, knowing how her commanding officer would take leaving the planet without Teal’c and Daniel.

“I was thinking about that,” the colonel agreed, surprising her. Rubbing his left cheek with his palm, he glared at the same rotting log she had abused earlier for a moment before looking back up to her. For a brief flash, Sam saw outright panic in his eyes but it faded to hardened calm before she could react. He continued, “But I don’t want to take the chance the Goa’uld will somehow block the ‘gate on this side and prevent us from coming back. Provided they are still here, that is. If we leave, we may never get back.”

Sam studied the older man carefully, searching for signs of distress again. He had his shield up but still appeared extremely tired…no, tired wasn’t the word. Weary. Worried. Old. And, there, she caught the terror again. It wasn’t something the colonel revealed often, and she suddenly felt like a voyeur. She turned her head away from him to give him a few minutes to collect himself. If she admitted it, she needed those minutes herself.

She could make a pretty good guess why Daniel and Teal’c's disappearance was hitting him so hard. Things had been quite strained between their two teammates for over a month now, since that awful moment when Daniel had lost Sha’uri. Flying into the tent, Sam hadn’t been sure which of her friends had looked worse. Daniel had been so frighteningly small on the ground, touching his dead wife’s face tenderly and whispering his love. Crying. She hadn’t been able to recall Daniel’s emotions manifesting themselves in such a tangible way, and seeing it had shocked her. Her stomach clenched at the mere memory, a shadow of the pain she had felt for her friend at that moment.

Amazingly enough, though, Teal’c had looked nearly as bad in his position, kneeling at the foot of the horrible tableau of a dead Sha’uri and crying Daniel. His usually stoic face transmitted intense distress at the choice he had had to make…and she had no idea know how he had done it. Teal’c had revealed to her later that Daniel’s absolution had been immediate and that had been…was still the reason for his dismay. He couldn’t understand how Daniel had been able to forgive such a horrendous act with no hesitation at all. His guilt would not alleviate, he had said, because what he had done had been unforgivable. Despite having gained pardon.

She thought she understood—Daniel had been able to forgive because it wasn’t a horrendous act. Teal’c had made the only choice he could, and everyone knew it. To see him separate himself from Daniel was painful for her; every time either one of them had sought her out lately, she had felt as though speaking either one’s name in the other’s presence was taboo. It was painful and awkward and so, so understandable. She had been stuck in the middle, wanting to help them both but not knowing how. Sam believed Daniel even encouraged it, possibly willing to forgive but not quite ready to forget. How could any of them expect him to go on as though life were the same? There was an absence surrounding both of her friends now, a dearth of comfort and hope.

Smiling sadly, she believed things had only just started warming up between the unlikely pair of friends. And now they were gone. Though her concern would have been great regardless of the personal conflict happening between them, taking that into account simply increased her anxiousness.

If all this that had been impacting her so greatly, even through her own admittedly self-absorbed funk, she imagined it had been worse for the colonel. As their CO and their friend. One thing she had learned in working with the seemingly hard man next to her was that he wasn’t hard at all—the brusqueness he exhibited was at the very least eighty-five percent faade. Protection against feeling so much for those close to him that their pain became his. Sam knew the tactic well, and so knew how ineffectual it was.

Part of her was jealous of the camaraderie and bond she saw between the colonel and Daniel and, albeit different in form, the one between him and Teal’c. She could blame it on not really being ‘one of the guys’ but that was too easy. What she did know was that the difference between her interaction with their two missing teammates and the colonel’s was significant. He might not think she saw how he wore the stress on his sleeve, but she had seen it for weeks.

She saw it now.

Jerking herself out of her grim thoughts and memories, Sam stared up into the sun, which provided no warmth in its rays. They coldly, harshly beat into her retinas and blinded her. She almost wished the light could actually blind her to the pain she saw emanating from her CO because, more and more, it was affecting her and making it more difficult to distance her own emotions as she knew she must.

Touching her lightly on the elbow, the colonel silently started walking away from her. His back was stiff, gait stilted and she was riveted to the spot for a full thirty seconds before she realized he was journeying the direction of the Stargate. Heart feeling as though it were in her throat, Sam jogged to catch up with him, ready to inquire if they were indeed going to take the chance and go back to Earth. Leave Teal’c and Daniel. One look at his face again halted her words, and she snapped her mouth shut.

They walked in silence. Each footfall she took edged up her misgivings about the situation, feeling as though they had already abandoned Daniel and Teal’c to their fates. Passing the dead Jaffa, Sam shuddered at the isolated puddle of blood that was undoubtedly Daniel’s. There seemed to be an inordinate amount of it for a simple leg wound. Her imagination kicked into overdrive, leading her to think about how it was the same leg that had been injured on Hathor’s planet. Making connections where there probably were none.

Lost in thought, she stumbled, scuffling forward a few clumsy paces in an attempt to regain balance and prevent a fall. The colonel snagged her waistband, abruptly halting her forward momentum. She quickly straightened her back, skirting away from him as she did so. The crunch of glass made her freeze, look down at her feet and then yank her head back up with awful realization. Following the same path as she had, her CO narrowed his eyes when he gazed down at her raised foot. Stayed on the shattered and twisted remains of Daniel’s glasses and didn’t move for a long time. He didn’t even blink.

Then the muscle in his jaw twitched once and he started walking again. She leaned down, snagging up the destroyed glasses and putting them in her jacket pocket. Though she didn’t know why, having them there made her feel a little bit better. Not enough. Mind racing, Sam kept spinning the crazy events of the last half hour in her head over and over, trying to catch that niggling thought and pin it down. It goaded her, remaining as irritatingly unclear to her as the questions in the game show Jeopardy! sometimes were until smarmy Alex Trebeck revealed them. She felt that comparison—she had just bet all her money on an answer she didn’t know the question to and was about to lose big.

They couldn’t…they could not leave this planet without Daniel and Teal’c.

“Sir,” she called, jumping at how loud her voice was amid the silence. The colonel’s pace didn’t break. Boldly, she continued, “Sir, we can’t go back to Earth.”

“I know that, Carter,” he growled back, finally stopping. He shot her an impatient glare. “But we can’t just stand around with our thumbs up our asses while who knows what is happe…”

Flinching as he swallowed the remainder of his retort, Sam averted her face from his intense stare. She didn’t need him to continue to understand that worst case scenarios had been playing out in his mind as well. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were heading in the wrong direction.

“What if we went back to the site where the ruins were supposed to be?”

“And why would we do that?”

“I don’t know, sir. I just have this feeling that’s where we should be, not here. This is all a little too coincidental, if you ask me. Wouldn’t it be better to discover what we’re up against so we know what we might need from the SGC?”

“I understand that, but I don’t understand why you are so sure going back there will help.”

Why was he being so argumentative?

“Maybe it’s women’s intuition, sir!” Sam snapped.

“And if that undeniably reasonable and scientific lead doesn’t pan out, then we’ll have wasted hours, Carter. Hours,” the colonel calmly said. “Daniel and Teal’c may not have that long and I don’t want to squander time climbing on a bunch of freaking rocks!”

Oh. Right. Embarrassed by her tunnel vision, Sam ducked her head, closing her eyes.

“We’ll contact General Hammond, let him know the situation. Right now I’m planning to advise that two additional units be sent here for search and rescue, to err on the side of caution. All we can do is hope he doesn’t run into any red tape with the Pentagon regarding risking so many lives for the sake of two.”

Like Teal’c had said had happened before…again with the Hathor thing. Sam didn’t know why she kept thinking about that. At least she wasn’t bogged down with her residual squickiness from her doppelganger.

“You don’t think…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. Shall we go before the sun disappears?”

She absently started walking the same time he did, but her mind went elsewhere. Sun disappears. The words rattled around over and over. Disappears. Vanishes. Becomes invisible. Oh…god. She was an idiot! The continual references back to Hathor were apparently her subconscious Alex Trebeck, telling her the obvious thing she had been looking.

“Sir!” she burst, forgetting herself and clutching at his forearm. “We need to request that TERs be sent with the reinforcements, if we get them. And, if possible, for a UAV to be fitted with them to do a sweep of the rock formations in case the Goa’uld somehow did manage to disguise that large an area.”

“Right,” he agreed, then continued to mumble under his breath in a disgruntled tone, apparently as perturbed by how long it had taken to think of it.

Filled with renewed hope, Sam picked up her pace slightly. They’d make it back to the ‘gate in record time, there would be enough teams on stand down to aid with the rescue and everything was going to be just fine. Just fine. If that was the case, why was this nauseating feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong not going away? She glanced back one more time in the direction of the rocks and hoped that they were making the right decision. That they wouldn’t come back with troops amassed only to discover they were too late and that Daniel and Teal’c were lost to them.

Dead.

Shivering with cold, Teal’c lay on the cold platform upon which he had been deposited. His head was a disarray of nebulous ringing and thick with muted pain. He felt his muscles weakening, had felt the uncomfortable sensation the entire time the Jaffa were torturing him. He was not fond of the torture and illness, or the strange heaviness suddenly settling in his chest. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and his lungs caught raggedly with each inhalation. Teal’c thought perhaps this was what his Tau’ri friends experienced when they suffered a ‘cold’. Never again would he be unsympathetic when O’Neill complained incessantly about being ill.

His memory was filled with holes, muddled and incomplete. Walking toward the Stargate with the rest of his team was the last thing he remembered clearly, O’Neill’s mockery of Major Carter and Daniel Jackson still reverberating in his ears, at once irritating and well intentioned. The levity SG1′s team leader infused into the otherwise dour, somber group had been necessary for some time. While he was not yet ready to forgive himself for taking the life of Sha’uri, to see Daniel Jackson’s demeanor improve even a minute amount was had been a slight weight off his shoulders. He did not know if it would ever dissipate completely; the damage to his relationship with the younger man was tremendous and he did not expect it to regain its former status. It was a fact to which he was still becoming resigned.

Resignation did little to alleviate the ache he felt regarding his unfortunate role in his friend’s pain. In collusion with the very real physical discomfort he had been dealt at the hands of these miserable Jaffa who had thus far concealed the false god to whom they swore allegiance, that ache served to make him frighteningly weak. Wracked with shudders from the icy air and the unfortunate path his cluttered mind had taken him, Teal’c found himself suddenly, surprisingly drenched with sweat. A voice broke through his melancholic regret, indistinct and nonsensical through the humming. He shook his head, needing to heave himself to his present situation. In the back of his cluttered thoughts, he had a vague sense there was something important he must remember. There was something…someone…with him in this room.

He turned his head to see who was on a table identical to his, shocked to find Daniel strapped down. Heart racing, Teal’c recalled with vibrant precision the last few moments before he had found himself in the hands of his torturers. The archaeologist coming to his aid, falling unsuccessfully. The humming in his ears turned to a loud-pitched screech, tormenting him for being so weak that he had not been able to offer protection to his friend. That, even now, he could do nothing to aid an escape attempt. The shrieking increased in volume, and he wanted to block his ears in cowardice. Rolling his head away, he tried to tune it…no, wait, the cry was real! Blinking, he squinted at the bright orange glow engulfing his friend’s legs. Daniel Jackson was screaming. Orange glow. Ribbon device.

Teal’c sat up, the desire to help his friend outweighing his own discomfort. He made himself roll off the high slab, lurching toward Daniel’s attacker. Preposterously unimpeded by Jaffa, he made it all the way to the Goa’uld, feebly clutching at the ribbon device to stop its damaging effect. He stumbled and fell to his knees, his arms suddenly and roughly wrenched away from their purpose. Struggling wanly, it took the newly present Jaffa only seconds to subdue him and he could do no more. He breathed harshly, barely able to keep his head up, but was satisfied to see the weapon deactivate and hear Daniel’s screams fade to whimpers. Blood coated the other man’s right pant leg.

The Goa’uld howled in rage, turning his anger on Teal’c and blasting him with the ribbon device. He slumped to the ground as the Jaffa released him. Advancing on him, the Goa’uld’s strangely disfigured face was large with hate. Blistering pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before, became his world and his body vibrated with residual tidal waves. He could not fight it, his eyes closing briefly. He had experienced the wrath conveyed through the apparatus before but, without strength to issue a challenge, he was weakening far too rapidly. Just when he thought the agony would become too excruciating to bear, the inflaming light cut off and left him with only the struggle to draw breath. He collapsed, face down, onto the floor.

“Shol’va! You dare interfere! I should kill you right now,” the Goa’uld growled at him. Through the grating voice, Teal’c could still hear Daniel making small noises of hurt. “If my experimentations had no more need for you, be assured you would be dead right now, as would your Tau’ri…friend.”

With great effort, Teal’c raised his head and spared a glance his young friend, who appeared delirious, tossing back and forth against his restraints. The archaeologist was gray and as covered in sweat as he himself was. Rage surged in him for their baseless, arcane mistreatment. Swiveling his head, he looked around the room for any indication of who held them captive, not recognizing any of the marking on the walls or the symbols on the Jaffas’ foreheads. The crude sledgehammer nudged something in the periphery of his recollection but it was not concrete.

He turned his attention to the Goa’uld itself, vision blurry from fever and pain. Unable to see more than a hazy outline, Teal’c squinted and the Goa’uld’s terrible face became clear. The brilliantly red scar seemed almost its own separate entity, morbidly protruding out toward him. He had never known a false god to be physically flawed, and evidence of such shocked him even through his stupor. Breathing harshly, he lifted his head further and immediately noticed other impairments. A twisted leg, a misshapen hand. It was not right, but it was familiar.

And it came to him. As a child, he had questioned where the gods got their new, amazing technology and weapons, innocently curious. His mother had told him a sad tale, of a misfit god who was not as magnificent as his fellow gods, blighted early on with deformities too massive even godhood could not cure. Hephaestus was his name, and though he was unable to match the might of the other gods, he had skills that were highly sought. Skills in tool making, inventiveness in weaponry. His ugliness kept him sequestered away from the rest of the universe, a secret genius. He had believed the story a mere myth, had eventually replaced it with the idea that the Goa’uld plundered and stole what they desired and had no creativity of their own.

He had been incorrect, it would seem. It would also seem that he and, because of his weakness, Daniel Jackson had become some sort of laboratory rodents, necessary but expendable instruments in furthering Goa’uld technological advancement. Unacceptable, unacceptable. Fumbling, Teal’c managed to get his hands on the ground and he tensed his uncooperative muscles to work for him. He would not be used in such a manner, nor would he allow Daniel to die. Contradicting internal strength, his body wavered as if he were a foal. His elbows threatened to fold him back into a crumpled pile. He locked them, freezing as the Goa’uld began muttering again.

“But now that I consider it, perhaps it would be best if I heal the human before I enter him. It would be a waste of time waiting for his body to recover after I have taken possession. Yes…”

Enter. Possession. The words agitated in his head, making it swirl and ache so much the pain traveled into his belly. Death, such an abhorrent possibility only moments ago, was preferable to what Hephaestus apparently had planned for Daniel. He scrabbled onto his knees, fueled by fury, but he lacked the power to fight the instant lock two of the Jaffa obtained on his shoulders. Snarling at rage aimed at himself as much as his and Daniel’s captors, he lost his ire when his roving eyes landed upon the now completely limp form of his friend. Though the archaeologist in actuality was not, he appeared small. Inexplicably, Teal’c was frightened.

“Yes,” Hephaestus definitively repeated. “Now that I know my ultimate weapon works so effectively, I can begin building my own army of Jaffa and take on the System Lords. With my new, strong, host, I will make them pay for my years of suffering under their will.”

Incredulously, Teal’c took another look at his surroundings. Unless Hephaestus had a store of weapons and more than the scattered few Jaffa he had seen, he could not envision the defeat of the System Lords by a single Goa’uld. Such a thing would take much power…much more than evidenced here. Hephaestus could not be entirely sane, that was the only explanation he could accept. Anything else was too terrible to contemplate and he could not give credence to the possibility the Goa’uld did indeed have enough reserves to accomplish domination.

“You will not be successful,” Teal’c had to whisper. He coughed weakly, his chest rattling ominously. He remembered feeling this way only once before—when he gave his symbiote to Ry’ac so that his son may live. If not for his friends… “My friends will stop your insurrection before it begins when they come for us.”

Blinking as though surprised Teal’c had spoken, Hephaestsus stared at him for a long minute before starting to chuckle and shake his head. Perplexed by the odd reaction, he leaned closer to the Goa’uld as if that would make him understand. To his astonishment, Hephaestus’s laughter subsided, he shifted around slightly and then vanished.

Moments later, a bodiless voice taunted right in his ear, “How could they do such a thing when they cannot see what is right before their faces?”

He reeled back, startled by the hot breath wafting across his cheek. He had not remembered…how had he not known the Jaffa had used Ree’tu technology?

“O’Neill and Major Carter will not give up easily. They have access to TERs, which…you designed and they will…use them to determine our position.”

“It does not matter. By the time they can do so, Daniel Jackson’s body will be mine, my Jaffa and I will be gone and you, Shol’va Teal’c, will be dead.”

With that, Hephaestus turned from him and limped toward Daniel. Teal’c was hauled backward, carted back to the elevated platform next to his unconscious friend’s and strapped tightly down. In his dim peripheral vision, he saw an orange glow set upon the archaeologist’s leg once again as the Goa’uld proceeded to heal the wound. Normally, he would be gladdened to know the younger man’s physical suffering was nearing an end but he could not allow himself that luxury, knowing that the sooner Daniel’s injuries were healed, the sooner he would suffer a worse horror. He could do nothing but turn his head, make himself watch as a form of penance for his failure to keep his young friend safe yet again

He coughed, lungs issuing protest against the accumulation of fluids in them. He wanted to expel the phlegm and mucous, spit the vile substances at Hephaestus in a useless act of insurgence and rail like a child at the injustice. Making a soft, sleepy noise, Daniel moved slightly under the healing device’s ministrations. Teal’c cringed. His vow upon his young friend’s immediate words of understanding, if not forgiveness, after killing Sha’uri had been to never allow emotional or physical harm to befall Daniel Jackson because of him.

And yet here they were. Teal’c was incapacitated, weak as a baby and unable to prevent the usurpation of his friend’s body and mind. Despair rocked him to the core, a feeling seldom acknowledged by any Jaffa. Silently begging Daniel’s forgiveness, he closed his eyes and turned away from the horrible sight. He was a coward for giving up so readily but he could not bear the penance to watch the resuscitation of health that would ultimately lead to his friend’s death. A hot tear slid down his face, disguising itself among the sweat already coursing there.

It did not matter if his weakness was discovered by those surrounding him. All that mattered was that when O’Neill and Major Carter arrived, they would find only a friend who was no longer a friend and his own empty shell. Hephaestus did not have to elaborate on the latest weapon in his arsenal; no System Lord could maintain power without his or her Jaffa slaves. He did not know how Goa’uld had done it, but he did know this mysterious weapon’s purpose was to weaken. To kill, as it was killing him.

“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c softly said.

And he never had been more so in his life. He regretted not regaining Daniel’s friendship and trust. He regretted failing in his unspoken duty. He regretted…

Running footsteps intruded on the silence that had set upon the room after his quiet request for forgiveness. He jerked as the intrusion was followed by a loud voice, “My lord Hephaestus! The Tau’ri have discovered our location!”

Lolling his head the direction the voice was emanating from, Teal’c opened his eyes and his heart refilled with hope. Hephaestus cursed, stopped healing Daniel’s wound and threw the healing device to the ground in a show of irritation.

“Too soon, too soon! Have they found the entrance to our lair?”

“No, my lord.”

“We must see to it that they do not. Throw them in the pit!” Hephaestus indicated with a wave of his good hand. “We will dispense of the irritating vermin at once and then I will finish what I have begun.”

Moving promptly at their master’s directives, the Jaffa released Daniel from the restraints and one of them slung him over a shoulder. Two more grabbed Teal’c forcefully and dragged him out of the room. He didn’t try to resist, knowing it was best to conserve his waning energy. Certain O’Neill and Major Carter would find them soon, he hung limply as the Jaffa marched him through the dank hallways. Underground. They must be underground, the walls were made of cold stone and there was a dirty dampness in the air that made his lungs seize up. He coughed and was rewarded with a sharp jab in the ribs. Coughing harder, he stopped observing his surroundings and let his head hang down.

Blood rushed in his ears, almost loudly enough to obscure a low moan from Daniel. He looked up in time to see the younger man thoughtlessly flung into an expansive hole in the middle of the tunnel floor. He prayed the archaeologist had regained consciousness enough to roll away from the opening before he would be tossed down into the same cold prison. The Jaffa hurled Teal’c violently into the sinkhole, raucous curses trailing after him. His not insignificant weight landed on something soft that grunted in pain, and he knew Daniel had awakened.

Instantly, he attempted to roll off his cellmate, but was too weak to move. His head rested on Daniel’s left shoulder, body strewn crossways on top of the smaller man. He could feel his friend gasping for air and wriggling to free himself from his live blanket, fully aware once again. Wincing, he tried again to move and spare at least this small discomfort for the other man.

“Teal’c…get off…God you…weigh…a…ton!” Daniel croaked, wheezing loudly and unpleasantly.

Accompanying the dreadful sounds, the man beneath him started convulsing, and Teal’c was frightened he was crushing him. He bolstered up as much energy as he could, propped one hand down on the ground and used it to flop himself over. Screaming at the self-inflicted abuse, his body shook at the exertion and the resultant pain of his action. He joined Daniel’s chokes, creating a duet of tortured sound that echoed around the small cavern in which they had been thrown. After a few moments, he was able to gain control of his inhalations, though they were still rattling ominously. Presaging his death. The body next to him, though, continued to tremble long after he thought it should. Concern mounting, he worried he had he caused further injury to his friend.

Fear providing the necessary adrenaline, Teal’c turned his head and shoulders toward his semi-prone friend. Shadowed by dimness and his own fading eyesight, most of Daniel’s body was not visible. What he saw was that the shaking was increasing rather than decreasing and his heart beat sporadically in his chest at the implication. His death was a certainty even if O’Neill and Major Carter found them soon; he was beginning to suspect Daniel’s fate would be the same. He wanted to provide comfort but he did not know what to do or whether it would be accepted. Before he could contemplate it further, a different muffled noise emitted from the young man.

Laughter.

Laughter! He found himself extraordinarily perturbed by the realization that while he had been upset and afraid for the other man’s life, Daniel had apparently been enjoying himself immensely. Energy faded out of him, and he slumped onto his back, head heavily thumping the damp ground. Finally propping himself on his elbows, the object of his exasperation looked down at him. Teal’c frowned, still angry and confused as to why the archaeologist found their situation humorous—as O’Neill’s banter from earlier in the day, this amusement was inappropriate and confounding. His scowl lightened somewhat as he realized the smile on his friend’s face was the first genuine one he had seen since Sha’uri…the thoughts made his face twist again.

“Daniel Jackson, would you please explain what is causing you to laugh?” Teal’c asked, meaning to sound stoically jovial in an attempt to regain the glimmer of his good disposition, stunned at how feebly the words came out.

Daniel sobered immediately, apparently not liking his weakened speech either. A gamut of emotions flickered across the archaeologist’s face before settling to resounding concern. Softly, a hand was placed upon his forehead, cool and refreshing, warm and comforting. Amazingly welcome.

“God, Teal’c, are you all right?” the other man whispered. The coolness of the hand lessened slightly but did not completely disappear. Fever still burned within him. Studying him closely, Daniel’s features saddened as he continued, “You look like hell.”

He could not argue.

“Indeed. I also feel like hell, Daniel Jackson.”

“Uhm, what happened? I think I kind of passed out. The last thing I remember is that Hephaestus was ribboning me, then I was suddenly upside down staring at a Jaffa’s armored ass,” Daniel said mildly with a brief smile and a wince. His hand automatically shot up to his cheekbone, already displaying a large bruise from the plummet down into the pit. As an afterthought, the archaeologist murmured, “It’s good to see you, though.”

Intense blue eyes spoke of sympathetic pain, fear and understanding of Hephaestus’ weapon. There was no need to speak of it. Closing his eyes, Teal’c said, “Hephaestus began to heal your leg in preparation for taking over your body. He was not able to complete either task.”

“Oh. Okay, great on the no Goa’uld in my head thing and yeah, I know he didn’t finish healing me, because right now I would love to gnaw my leg off it hurts so much. Actually, that’s not true. It does feel a bit better than it did. That’s good news, right?” the archaeologist rambled and Teal’c heard him shuffling around.

“Indeed.”

Feeling suddenly like he was falling down a neverending hole, swirling and swirling forever, Teal’c opened his eyes. Daniel had changed positions so that they were lying side by side. His head was still thick and muddled. Despite the vertigo, he could not keep his eyes open. He knew. He knew O’Neill and Major Carter would be far too late to prevent his death. Unafraid of the actual, physical event, he began to prepare for it.

“Hey, Teal’c,” his companion suddenly urged with a nudge to his shoulder as if Daniel had read his mind. “You have to try and stay awake for me, okay? Did Hephaestus tell you what he did to you? Or if there was a cure? No, of course he didn’t. Why would he do that?”

Teal’c allowed a small smile at Daniel’s nervous chattering. It was always better if this particular human was speaking. No matter the content of his words, they were a source of comfort for him, just as his silence was a source of apprehension.

Daniel had been silent for many days after the death of Sha’uri. Even O’Neill could not get him to speak. Though Teal’c had stayed away from the archaeologist, Major Carter always came to him to provide news on their friend’s condition. He was never quite sure if his absence was beneficial to the emotional recovery Daniel required, but he felt it was necessary for their friendship. No one he had ever met could cope with tragedy in a rapid manner, and he knew the archaeologist was no exception to that rule. The void left without that relationship had been painful. His soul ached for time lost that would never be recovered.

“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson.”

The soft words of his friend stopped immediately and Teal’c turned his head toward Daniel. Bewildered blue eyes stared back at him, and the archaeologist’s mouth flapped open and shut repeatedly.

“I am sorry,” Teal’c murmured again.

“F-for what, Teal’c?”

“For once again being responsible for your suffering,” Teal’c simply answered. He was so incredibly sorry for that and for losing friendship.

“Teal’c, this isn’t your fault! It was totally a case of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Daniel protested.

“Yes. But that is not of what I am speaking.”

“Oh…oh.”

Daniel’s face instantly lost all of its slight animation and Teal’c feared he erred in bringing up this subject. It could not be delayed, however. He could feel his life draining from him and this was something they needed to discuss. They had never spoken directly to each other about the death of Sha’uri. With so little time remaining, he wanted to ask Daniel the question that had been on his mind since he had known the younger man.

“Daniel Jackson, I know I do not deserve your friendship. I never have, and yet you give it willingly. How is this possible?”

Pausing, Daniel stared at him and Teal’c again saw understanding on the other man’s face. Sadness, replaced quickly by determination. Frustration clear in his tone, Daniel said, “Teal’c, do you remember Cartago? Remember how much Hanno wanted to see you die for your past sins? I can’t be like that, I never could. I couldn’t hold you responsible for actions you were instructed to complete.”

“I was not instructed to end the life of Sha’uri,” Teal’c gently pointed out.

Daniel winced, though he had likely known the statement was coming. Internally, Teal’c grieved for rousing pain the younger man was only now moving past.

“No, no, you weren’t.”

“And you still allow me to walk by your side.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Teal’c, if I tell you something… When Sh…Amaunet had me in the grip of the ribbon device, I experienced something amazing. I haven’t told anyone this…I’m not sure why. I’m afraid no one will believe me, I guess. Teal’c, Sha’uri spoke to me through the weapon. I don’t know how, but I do know why.” Daniel paused and furrowed his brows. Closing his eyes, he appeared afraid to continue but he took several deep breaths and did so. “She had something very important to tell me, but she wouldn’t do it right away. You want to know why, Teal’c?”

Searching his friend’s face, Teal’c almost had to look away from the emotion emanating from it. Daniel’s eyes were filled with fear…fear for him. The fear transformed instantly to neutrality as though Daniel was trying to protect him from the truth. He tried to answer the question, but couldn’t seem to make his mouth work properly. There was nothing but blurred pain and he wanted to fade away.

“Hey, stay awake. Remember, Teal’c?” Daniel prompted him gently, shaking his shoulder. “You with me?”

Teal’c nodded and opened his mouth again, pleased when words actually came out of it, “I am.”

Lies. He knew what Daniel was telling him was terribly important but he could not seem to focus. Overtaking everything, his failing body battled for all of his attention.

“Good. Teal’c, Sha’uri told me about her son. She said that he was a Harcesis, that he possesses all the knowledge of the Goa’uld even though he’s human and that he must be protected. But she didn’t tell me about him right away. No, first she told me I needed to get on with my life. She made me see the future as it might have gone down, and it wasn’t pretty—I quit the SGC and refused to forgive you. Sha’uri wouldn’t give up on me, though. She kept insisting you were right to kill her and that I needed to get beyond my anger.”

The importance of the other man’s words pulled him out of his pained haze, and his head spun with the information. He didn’t know if he should believe it or not, but in his vast experience with the Goa’uld, Teal’c had learned to never underestimate them in any way. In any case, it did not matter if the story was valid or a figment of a grieving man’s imagination; Daniel was baring a part of himself that he had locked away for weeks and Teal’c could only encourage him. If he could do nothing else, this he could.

“Have you?” he whispered. “Will you ever be able to forgive my actions, Daniel?”

Startled, Daniel’s eyes widened at the casual use of his name. He blinked several times, then his eyes skittered around the room as if unable to maintain contact with him. Darkness approached, emotionally as well as physically.

“I..I’m not sure, Teal’c. I understand why you had to shoot Sha’uri, but I’ve never actually forgiven you. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that,” Daniel thickly admitted.

“I understand.” Teal’c's heart sank. Selfishly, he had hoped for complete absolution in the face of death.

“No, Teal’c. You don’t. I may not be ready yet but I will be someday and I’m not willing to let our friendship suffer. I know I haven’t been much for company lately, but I’m working on it. I’ll keep trying, I promise. I just need more time.”

Grateful for Daniel’s honesty, Teal’c took it at face value. He was fortunate to receive it. The promise of forgiveness was more than he would expect from anyone else. He coughed painfully and shivered, the cold from the floor invading his bare back. His strength was diminishing even more quickly.

“Thank you, Daniel,” Teal’c whispered.

“What for?”

For so much.

“Teal’c, Teal’c! Don’t you fall asleep!” he heard Daniel cry out frantically.

Teal’c tried to stay awake, to cling to consciousness but the world became dimmer and dimmer as he slid into oblivion. His last thought was that should he never wake, he could die in peace.