Ancient Musings is proud to announce the addition of 48 stories (47 gen, 1 very mild het) by Carrie!

Assisted
by Carrie

Was the room shaking or was it his legs? Jack discreetly bounced as he walked down the ramp to determine if his legs were solid. No shakes. There was some pretty unpleasant ringing in his ears, though, making his brain feel detached and anesthetized.

“What just happened?” Jonas asked by way of greeting, studying Jack as he joined his team.

Abydos. God, he hoped the damage wasn’t too bad. It had felt bad. Ominous.

“Abydos was hit,” Jack said, hoping he wasn’t shouting. Maybe there was sand in his ears as well as bells. That would explain the thick feeling.

“You saw it?” Carter said in disbelief.

If he had seen it, he’d be dead now, wouldn’t he? The blast had been close, Jack knew, or the SGC wouldn’t have shaken as if a mild earthquake had hit it. And the ringing in his ears was additional proof. That had to stop soon. It was very distracting, like when he had something at the back of his mind and he just couldn’t quite think of it. He shook his head to try to dispel the fuzz, and to remember the most important thing – he had got his team back alive.

“I felt it. Just before I came through.”

Jack wondered why the hell Carter hadn’t connected the dots between him saying Abydos had taken a hit and the shaking. She was bright, it shouldn’t have been a stretch. His 2IC looked vaguely ill for a flash, and then raced from the ‘gateroom. He figured she was headed for the control room. Shrugging his shoulders at Jonas and Teal’c, Jack followed. He found her leaning close to the technician, a frown creasing her forehead. She still appeared ill. He glanced at Teal’c quickly, noting the man’s unhappy disposition. Nothing unusual there.

“Carter?” he prompted.

“We’re lucky they closed the iris when they did, sir. A massive energy wave followed you through the wormhole,” Carter reported, sounding as grim as she looked.

He might have joked about how powerful his personality was, that he had made the earth move, but decided that would be in very poor form. There had been an explosion on Abydos, that was no joke. It couldn’t have been that bad, though. Anubis had been taken care of. Jack’s mouth inexplicably felt like the pile of sand Abydos was. He tried to swallow, but it was impossible to swallow nothing. It felt like his tongue slid halfway down his throat, dry and bloated. Wrong.

“Redial,” he ordered, amazed he could speak in even the hoarsest of tones. He tried to swallow again. His head started to ache.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant… Davis… said.

The ringing in his ears seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Jack couldn’t figure it out. He took a deep breath as he watched the Stargate start spinning. Clattering of footsteps pulled his attention from the device. He turned as General Hammond joined them.

“Welcome back, SG1. What’s happened?”

Not sure. Nothing major, he hoped, just a little setback. All those people. He was slow to remember the Abydonians, about how many could have been hurt while he and his stood in the safety of a dull underground building, a galaxy away. It had sounded and felt worse than it actually was, Jack had to believe that. All those people. They couldn’t all be gone.

“Seems there was a large explosion on the planet just after we left, sir,” Carter reported, directly contradicting his hopes.

“Is that possible?” Hammond said.

Shouldn’t have been. He shouldn’t have felt any kind of explosion. Anubis had been taken care of, Daniel had assured him of that. Daniel. Oh.

“Unfortunately, sir,” Jack said.

The admission shrouded around him, heavy and suffocating. Something cold twisted his gut. He’d got his team home, left an entire world of people behind.

“We’re dialing Abydos now to see what happened.”

“Chevron six encoded. Chevron seven will not lock,” Davis said.

Jack stared back down at the ‘gate. The lack of connection didn’t mean anything; the ‘gate on Abydos had just been jarred or something. It was temporary. Skaara had already been dead, but all those people. They couldn’t be. The ringing raised in pitch, to a sharp whine. His head hurt.

“Briefing room,” Hammond snapped.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

His brain was numb from the assault it was enduring, and so were his eardrums. Jack shook his head again as he trailed behind Carter, Teal’c, Jonas and Hammond. The ringing wouldn’t stop, but it seemed better now. More tolerable. He’d have to tell Fraiser to check his ears very carefully during the post mission exam. He kept his eyes on the Stargate as he made his way to the stairs. It stared back at him, unblinking, useless and cold. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. The ringing returned full force, resonating in his ears, screaming at him.

Jack wondered if anyone else could tell how he wasn’t really in the room. His distraction had tripled as soon as he sat down at the briefing table, and he spent most of his time refraining from grabbing that stupid stone tablet away from Jonas and smashing it on the floor. He didn’t really know the reason for the compulsion, but knew it would make him feel a helluva lot better to break something. The more he sat, the more he stewed. There was something, a piece of the puzzle, he was missing, and it was the only one left. Shouldn’t be difficult to find and snap into place. If only he hadn’t misplaced it.

All those people.

“Can you translate this?” Hammond said, pushing the tablet back to Jonas.

Jack looked up, then straightened when he saw Daniel sitting where he knew Jonas was. Daniel, still dressed in Abydonian robes, smiled at him without showing his teeth, small and sad. Blinking three times in rapid succession washed the vision of Daniel away. Where had that come from? He was hallucinating due to extreme tiredness. He watched Jonas study the tablet without any of the passion or reverence Daniel would have treated it with. It was unfair, this built-in comparison he had between the two men, but something he could not stop. It stole his breath away right now, a punch to his abdomen.

“Oh, yeah,” Jonas said. “It will take some time, but Doctor Jackson did offer his assistance.”

Daniel. Daniel.

“I’m not sure we can count on Daniel for anything anymore,” Carter said.

What she said was impossible. For all his moaning and bitching about how Daniel was a thorn in his side, for all the times he had been resentful of the other man’s stance and approach to every situation, Jack knew one thing in this crazy universe was irrefutable: Daniel Jackson could always be counted on. Always. It was a fact Jack had relied on for five years. The world could start spinning the wrong direction and the sky could turn purple at any given moment, but Daniel would always be there. That *couldn’t* change. Solid or glowy, it didn’t matter.

“Why not?” General Hammond asked.

Don’t say it, don’t say it. Jack didn’t want to hear what he already knew spoken aloud.

“Well, sir, he would have done everything in his power to protect the people of Abydos. If he was somehow prevented from doing that, then…”

Carter trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Everyone in the goddamned room knew what she meant. What she said was impossible. What she said was correct. The thrumming in his ears reached a fevered pitch, blasting at him so strongly he thought his brain would turn to mush from it. All those people. All those… God, Daniel. The coldness in his stomach threatened the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, nearly choking.

Hammond stared at him, but all he could do was shake his head. Bleed dread from his eyes. Hammond blanched slightly, dull purple rising from his neck into his cheeks. Daniel had said he could and would kick Anubis’ ass. Jack had believed him, still believed him even though the scant evidence they had was refuting it. He couldn’t… they couldn’t take what little they knew and jump to conclusions. Abydos was fine. Daniel was fine. Battles weren’t clean, and the explosion he could still hear ringing had just been Daniel losing ground for a minute before taking that bastard Goa’uld out.

Jack was skilled at telling himself lies. He stared at his hands.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Jonas said finally, voice loud and cutting in the heavy silence. “We don’t know anything right now.”

Jack knew. Through the course of the last year, he had felt warm reassurance when he thought of Daniel. Hell, not just then but whenever he’d been weary of it all, old, disheartened. It was indefinable, but he had always believed the feeling was more than a feeling. After his experience in Ba’al’s palace, the niggling idea that Daniel was around up there, somewhere, and watching over him, over all of them, became reality. The knowledge had been a security shield for him, and one he’d kept selfishly to himself. Now… now he felt cold.

Empty, alone.

“Major Carter, I want you to continue periodically dialing for Abydos. It’s possible the ‘gate there was simply buried in rubble. It could take some time for it to be excavated,” Hammond ordered. Jack looked up at the general, who was still looking at him with a sickened expression. He didn’t know if he should be grateful or disturbed for the hope the general wanted to instill. “Jonas, make translating that tablet a top priority. Keep me informed. You’re dismissed.”

Jack hadn’t even got himself completely vertical before General Hammond disappeared into his office. He watched the door shut, then turned to glare at the tablet once again. He hated that thing, hated that the general had just espoused hope for the Abydonians in one breath, and countered it in the next. If Abydos survived, Anubis could not have, and the tablet wasn’t necessarily an immediate project. He clenched his fists, looking down at them. Dirt packed into every crease, blackened his fingernails. He could probably scrub them for days and they wouldn’t come clean.

The cicada pining away in his head was tireless and shrill, and it warned not the end of summer, but the end of something far better. Jack lifted a dirty finger and poked it in the cavern of his left ear, as if he could plug up the sound. All it did was make his ear as dirty as the rest of him. He dropped his hand.

“Let’s go visit the doc,” Jack said dully.

“Sir…” Carter said, but she didn’t continue.

He gave her a fleeting look, but couldn’t acknowledge the naked worry in her expression. It was self-preservation for him to walk away. He’d do just about anything to make one of his team feel better, but he just couldn’t do that when he felt as heartsick as they. Not now, he couldn’t. Maybe not ever again. He opted for the stairs instead of the confinement of the elevator, hoping the echoing of his footsteps would drown out the other obnoxious sound in his ears. They bounced back to him, serving to tell him he was alone in the stairwell. Alone. The ear ringing did not subside. As he climbed the levels, he decided he wouldn’t mention it to Fraiser. He suspected it wasn’t caused by anything a physician could fix.

Abydos was gone, all of it. The humming whine from the explosion had disappeared when the ‘gate had finally dialed. For a few short hours, Jack had had quiet. But then, it had all come crashing down. All those people. ‘Abydos was gone’ repeated in his head, replacing the numbing bell tone. Worse. Louder. Telltale.

Jack leaned his head to rest on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He spotted big cobwebs in two corners, abandoned and desolate. Drafts of air made them ripple and dance slowly, creating stark beauty where there should be none. He scrambled to his feet, picking up an old magazine. He swiped both of the webs out until all that remained was a sticky mess tufting out of the pages of his National Geographic. Destruction didn’t make him feel any better. He dropped the magazine on the floor, staring up at the bare corners. They seemed wrong now, empty. He scrubbed a hand down his face, cupping it across his mouth.

“Nothing will happen to the people of Abydos,” Daniel said, voice firm.

Jack nodded, trusting Daniel’s pledge. He knew without a doubt that Daniel was on their side now, that he would do whatever it took to ensure Abydos remained safe, and his former team as well. Watching his friend go glowy and disappear from the room, there was nothing left to do but wait.

“Damnit, Daniel,” Jack muttered into his hand. “What did you do?”

He still half expected his friend to appear from nowhere, wearing Eddie Bauer clothes with disparately ugly socks, to dispense vague advice. Even if Daniel showed, Jack wouldn’t expect an answer to that question. He knew what Daniel had done. Tried to do. God. He couldn’t believe after all this that Daniel was gone. Not off dealing with Oma and those wacky Others like Carter seemed content to believe—gone, as in gone. Daniel was lost forever this time, and it left him cold to even think that.

Jack lifted the hand from across his mouth, studying his grime-filled fingernails. The shower hadn’t removed enough, just like he had known it wouldn’t. He needed to get under them, get all that dirt out. He had a vegetable brush in the kitchen that would be perfect for the chore. Blindly walking from the den, he stumbled on the step and nearly fell. He didn’t know why he hadn’t compensated for it; the step had always been there and he could navigate from the den to the kitchen in pitch black if he had to. He grunted an obscenity at the hapless stair simply for always being there and moved on.

He made it to the kitchen sink, turning the tap on, reaching for the dish soap and snatching up the brush in one fluid movement. Jack set to work, relishing the sharp bristles bite into his skin. It didn’t take long to finish his left hand, and he began working on the right. Scrubbing each finger with diligence, he had the thought that he was washing away the last traces of Abydos. He paused, lifting the bubble-covered hand closer to his face. Abydos was gone; a little dirt under his fingernails couldn’t change that. He finished cleaning, fingers throbbing from the abuse.

Abydos was gone. All those people. Daniel.

The sounds of glider fire started to heavily outweigh the gunfire. They were losing the battle up there, Teal’c didn’t have to radio an update. Jack was pissed. Daniel just stood there looking at them when he knew damn well he had the power to stop it all.

“You hear that?” Jack demanded.

“I can’t do anything about that,” Daniel said quickly. “You know.”

Can’t. Won’t was more like it. Jack and his very mortal team were sitting ducks, here. He glared at Daniel.

“I don’t care. Do something or we walk.” Or run. Get the hell out of Dodge. This was no idle threat. “Right now.”

“Remember that fine line we were talking about?”

Desperation colored Daniel’s tone, Jack could hear it. It angered him further—because from where he stood, Daniel wasn’t ‘doing more’ as he’d claimed he wanted to. He was useless as an Ascended being, useless to him right now. Worse, he wasn’t Daniel like this. Daniel hadn’t exactly played by the rules while human, and Jack couldn’t see why he would now. That was something he hoped he could use to his advantage.

“Cross it,” Jack ordered.

Daniel stared at him, unblinking. Something wild flashed in his friend’s eyes, and more. Jack didn’t have time to try to understand what was going on in Daniel’s head. He made damn sure he didn’t break eye contact, daring his friend to grow some Ascended balls. He waited longer than he should have, and was about to tell Carter, Teal’c and Jonas to beat a hasty retreat when Daniel sighed and nodded.

“Okay,” Daniel said softly.

Jack rubbed wet hands down his thighs, stuck in his memories. Stuck on the image of Daniel deciding whether or not to do as he had asked. He knew Daniel, had used his friend’s need to do the right thing to get what he wanted from the situation. He hadn’t realized, had only been concerned with saving his own ass. But Daniel… Daniel had known. The wildness in his eyes had been colored with comprehension. Jack saw it now – the picture-puzzle before his eyes snapped into completion with such force he was surprised he didn’t hear it snap. Daniel had understood his fate from that point forward.

At last, Jack knew what he had actually asked of his friend, and God help him.

“Oma’s here, watching me,” Daniel murmured, sounding slightly frazzled.

“And?” Jack retorted. But, so, therefore? He just kept getting more and more pissed off. Skaara was dead, they were trapped in this little shithole of a room and Anubis was winning.

“And I don’t care anymore. Anubis is one of us.”

Oh, Christ, what had he done?

His stomach ached with emptiness he wanted to vomit. Jack knew what he had done, just as he knew what Daniel had done. Daniel had crossed the line, tried to save the world and got killed instead. Again. Daniel had gone on a suicide mission with reckless hope that it might just work, knowing it probably wouldn’t. Knowing he was dead either way. But he hadn’t gone without assistance.

Twisting around, Jack slid to the floor. The hard cabinets scraped down his back, but he barely felt a thing. He drew his knees up, resting his forearms on them. Abydos was gone. Daniel was gone. He spread out his fingers, staring at them. They were pink, immaculate, but they didn’t look clean.

The End

Big Trouble in Little Colorado Springs
by Carrie

Nine o’clock post meridian was his preferred time to prowl. He couldn’t say why, exactly, just that that was when his craving usually kicked in. He’d done it during the afternoon, and even the morning, but there was something about the nine o’clock hour that was just perfect. If he waited any later, he wouldn’t be able to get a decent night’s sleep. His life, it was so complicated. Cunningly maneuvering through the dimly lit space, he plotted his every future move. A game of chess in his mind, ready to be executed.

Inching forward, he became one with the wall. It was not a feat attainable by mere footsoldiers, this meshing of oneself with the surroundings. He blended, chameleon-like, in any given setting, which made him a powerful adversary indeed. He was a master of his trade. Narrowing his eyes, he looked upon his target. A small part of him felt a pang of regret for his intended victim, a larger part felt only the thrill of the hunt. Crouching down, he skulked another several steps and struggled to remain in the shadows.

Nearing his destination without a hint of sound was proving a greater challenge tonight than usual. His victim was not alone, but was accompanied by a warrior of great skill in his own right. He was nervous that his mission would be unsuccessful or, worse, that the other warrior would become injured in the attack. Extra care had to be given, this knowledge increasing his tension and his excitement. The larger the challenge, the better he could advance his expertise. Squinting against the relative brightness of the room, he realized his internal calculations would have to be adjusted. He cursed to himself, damning the obstacle unexpectedly in his path.

Just as well. Life was not known for providing the same scenario over and over again, this should not be any different. He always managed to do the very best with what resources were provided. His mind was as fast as his feet, as it had to be for survival. He moved back a step, to reassess the scene before him. Oblivious to it all, the other warrior hummed a discordant tune under his breath. He smiled, for this distraction would be the victim’s undoing.

Arching his back, he stretched in preparation for the kill. Limber muscles were his biggest asset at this point. Eyes roaming over the victim, he started to salivate with anticipation. No matter how many times he went in for the kill, a certain excited buzz ran through his veins just moments before he launched the attack. Only twice had his excitement gotten in the way of his conquest, and he had found ways to gain satisfaction in different ways.

Danger sizzled in the air all around him, but he took the chance and leaned out into the brightness to get an even better view of the layout. The obstacle he thought would prove troublesome had been moved. He smiled. The warrior turned, forcing him back against the wall with a barely audible thump. For seconds he stayed, frozen in place, not daring to move for fear he had alerted the other warrior.

After due time had passed, he tentatively inched forward. Here in the shadows, his talent was without reproach but the slight misstep had him concerned. An already complicated mission rarely survived if something went drastically wrong. In his mind, he calculated options for what to do should he fail here tonight. No, no, he could not let doubt plant its vicious seed within him, for once it took root he would be doomed. He was a fierce fighter. He would not fail. He dared one more step, and a peek out into the open once more. His actions went unnoticed and he became self-assured. Success was at his doorstep.

Never one, though, to take things too seriously, he paused for a moment to enjoy the warrior interact with the prey. It was sadistic of him to take such pleasure in the knowledge he would soon be responsible for parting two happy companions, but he could not contain the bloodlust roiling through him. He wanted to laugh, cackle his victory before he had even achieved it. This was a dangerous game he was playing, he knew, and he sobered back to the solemn stealth still needed to carry him through the remainder of his operation. Still, the joyous smile on the other warrior’s face was too charming for words.

Indecision sneaked up inside him. For the first time since embarking on this mission, he was uncertain whether or not he was in the right. His body yearned to go for the kill, but his mind and heart did not want to hurt the warrior. He stared at his quarry, as if it could give him an acceptable answer. He heard the clink of metal on metal, followed by a cold, sucking sound. Feet shuffled from within the room ahead of him. A door creaked. The warrior was not within his field of vision.

Everything about this moment in time screamed for him to take action, and take it without remorse. Struggling to stamp down on the feeling part of him, he jumped into the doorway on the balls of his feet. He padded forward, dismayed to hear a soft shirrup sound from the contact of worn leather on tile. He halted, watching the warrior’s shoulders stiffen in acknowledgement that he and his nighttime companion were no longer alone in the room. He could only watch as the warrior turned around to face him, a smile on his face. For a flash, he forgot the goal for the entire evening. The hesitation did not last long.

Leaping forward, he twisted acrobatically and landed within inches of his victim. He cried out an impressive “Hi-yah!” before snatching his prey and tearing into it with untamed pleasure. He kept one eye on the only remaining occupant of the room.

“!” The warrior knit his eyebrows, apparently stupefied by the magnificent effort he’d just witnessed. It wasn’t long before he found his voice, though. “For crying out loud, Daniel, I’ve told you a million times that ninjas don’t shout ‘hi-yah’ and if you wanted a sandwich so much, why didn’t you just ask?”

The End

Breaking Point
by Carrie

Daniel

Teal’c looks… bad. I don’t know what I expected. Jack told me Teal’c had most likely been tortured—I mean a Goa’uld wouldn’t get its hands on the infamous Shol’va and treat him to cookies and milk—but I didn’t think it would be this… bad. His battered, bruised and burned torso glares at me accusingly, imprinting the abuse it suffered in my mind. Teal’c's pouch is blackened and distended slightly, head bleeds from several gashes and lip is swollen painfully. God, the whole time we thought him safe on Chulak gathering supporters among the Jaffa, Teal’c was going through hell. And now he’s just laying there, motionless and chalky pale. Rak’nor has a fire stoked, but I feel no warmth from it. I don’t think Teal’c does either.

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. It’s like I’ve suddenly grown roots and though I think I should go to his side, my body refuses to comply. What good would it do him for me to kneel next to him, looking at him with pity and concern? He is just so broken. I don’t want to take the chance something I do will cause him further harm, so I hang back for a bit, let Sam check him out. I catch a glimpse of Jacob and Rak’nor speaking, pulled away from the rest of us a short distance. I don’t care who this mystery Jaffa is, I’m grateful to him for saving my friend’s life. There is no doubt that if Teal’c had been turned over to Apophis he would have been killed. Probably repeatedly, definitely cruelly.

My attention is drawn back to Teal’c when he moans a barely discernible sigh. Sam’s cleaning the wounds on his face, her hands moving gently over the tender bruises. His blood is glistening by the firelight, sickeningly captivating. I pull my eyes away from the gore, across the fire to Jack. His face is set so tight and hard it could be made of marble. Oh, yeah, he’s upset.

Teal’c finally moves a little and I swing my head back to him. For a terrifying moment, Teal’c shows panic and distress, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings seeming to catch him off guard. Sam unsuccessfully tries to hinder flailing arms, her actions changing from gentle to frantic. Jack and I leap to her aid simultaneously. Up close, Teal’c looks very…bad. Sam scoots back out of our way as Jack grabs Teal’c's legs and I his shoulders.

I’m rocked to the core at how weak Teal’c is as we easily subdue him. Oh, very, very bad. I send a quick glance to Jack, both to transmit my concern and to gauge his. Jack doesn’t return my look but his jaw clenches. I can’t help staring at Teal’c's wounds, everything moving in slow motion. How could he have lived through this? I relax my hold as Teal’c wilts. It couldn’t get any worse.

Then Teal’c opens his eyes.

I let go of him completely, reeling back in shock. He snarls at me gutturally and his hands are around my throat before my brain even registers his movement. Guess he’s not that weak. Squeezing, he’s squeezing my throat…can’t breathe…God…stop…

I faintly hear alarmed shouting in the distance. So far away. Where did everyone go Teal’c it’s me stop! The night becomes darker and darker and I can’t see anything except for what is directly before me.

Teal’c's eyes. Unrecognizably cold. Dead.

Oh, God!

Teal’c

Ice envelopes me, relentlessly invading my veins, my organs, my thoughts. Bra’tac is dead Bra’tac is dead Shau’nac is dead. Dead. Dead. I do not believe for an instant Bra’tac would denounce his beliefs because some insane zealot tortured him. He would rather die, which is why I know he must be. Dead.

It is so cold. I feel a fire, crackling and popping invitingly, but it provides me no warmth. I hear a woman’s voice speaking softly to me, but I cannot move. Mother? Drey’auc? Shau’nac? My muscles are atrophied as if in death. Death. Am I dead? Like Shau’nac? My mind is set in an endless loop, focusing only on the loss of my love and my mentor. Loss because of the Goa’uld. Tanith. Heru’ur.

Heru’ur is regrettably dead, this I know. I long for him to have somehow survived so that I may be the one to hold the last breath he takes in my own two hands. The thoughts spur my body to give up its stubborn rigidity, ice breaks and begins to float away. It gives way to surreal warmth, borne not of comforting heat from the fire, but of rage.

Soft, soothing words are now edged with something else—fear. Good. I am envisioning Heru’ur’s final moments, seeing him tremble with the knowledge he will not live to greet the sun ever again. It is more than he deserves to die a painless death, but I take vindication in it. The death of any Goa’uld is good and is cause for celebration.

Shau’nac’s face replaces that of Heru’ur above me. She is breathtakingly beautiful and smiles at me warmly, love and serenity shining out of her eyes. She beckons me closer and I feel my arms reach for her automatically, their movement strangely sporadic and uncontrolled. Wait for me. She is fading, smile transforming into a grotesque mask of pain as unidentified hands grasp her slender neck and cruelly choke her. I see her features twist and redden, face reflecting fear and disbelief. Then she is gone. No!

Tanith now leers at me, smirking his victory. Warmth sparks to hot, red, livid bruising wrath. I want nothing more than to kill him. Remove every organ from his body and force him to eat them. Rip him apart with ruthless, unforgiving malice. I cannot. There is something holding me down, preventing the vengeance I deserve. I strain against it fruitlessly. Tanith roars with laughter as I relax. I will not be a pawn in his game.

He mocks me, mocks my anger and pain. The weight upon my shoulders vanishes and I must take advantage of the freedom, lunging for the mirthful monster in front of me. I am pleased to find my strength has returned in full force. I hold Tanith’s pitiful life in my hands. His blue eyes are wide in surprise, lips turning purple. Die. He must pay for what he has done.

Hands fight to pry me from him, but I will not allow it to happen. He must not escape his punishment. I want to laugh as the eyes roll back and his body sags. He no longer struggles and I have won. Blue eyes? A blow to my face follows my sudden realization that Tanith does not have blue eyes. Panicking, I turn toward the sagging form in my grasp.

No…NO! What have I done? Tanith is no longer before me. Instead, I hold a lifeless Daniel Jackson in my hands. I loosen my grip and he slides gracelessly to the ground and lies there, still as death. Death. I have killed my friend.

No…

Jack

Cold rage blinds me to my surroundings as I look at his struggling form. Daniel’s got a good handle on Teal’c's upper body, darting me a quick look that is desperately worried. I can’t give him the reassurance he seeks and can’t meet his eyes. My jaw snaps shut, cheek muscles twinge uncontrollably. I’ve endured torture. I know the pain and confusion Teal’c is going through. Right now he’s lost in his own mind, seeing only the horror. What happened to him while in Heru’ur’s hands will be the predominant memory, but the floor is open for any bad thing that has ever happened to him. Judging from what little Teal’c has told us, he’s got a wide variety of nightmares from which to choose.

Teal’c calms down abruptly, seemingly fading back into sleep. I maintain my position on top of his legs, hoping the physical damage doesn’t extend that far down. I can’t release him quite yet, not sure he’s fully out. I open my mouth to warn Daniel to keep his hold on Teal’c, but before I can say anything, Daniel lets go the shoulders. Shit! Instantly, Teal’c is moving. He’s so fast we can’t stop him and I doubt Daniel even saw it coming.

Carter is screaming for Jacob and Rak’nor as we try to remove Daniel from Teal’c's vise-like grip. God, I can hear Daniel gasping right in my ear, breath rattling ominously. Teal’c's going to break his neck! I have to stop this. Daniel! Teal’c! Shit! I can’t hear Daniel anymore. Desperately, I grab Teal’c's face for a moment, try to snap him out of his hallucination by delivering a blow across his least damaged cheek. His eyes clear suddenly and he twists toward Daniel, but he does not release his hold.

Oh, no, no! Danny doesn’t move, dangles limply in Teal’c's grasp. Let him go let him… breathing? Is he breathing? My concern for Teal’c gets shoved aside when he finally jerks his hands open and pulls them away from Daniel’s neck. Daniel is sliding to the ground and I lunge for him. Jacob and Rak’nor latch onto Teal’c as Carter and I rush to the inert body sprawled before us. Please be alive. Please be breathing. Please.

My own breathing is questionable as Carter’s shaking hands seek out a pulse. Her eyes widen so far I can see the dancing flames of the fire and my own pale face reflected in them. No, no, no. Daniel, don’t do this. Teal’c didn’t… he couldn’t… wait, she’s nodding slightly now. I swallow the bitterness that has risen in my throat and slouch back, resting my hand on Daniel’s forehead as though keeping physical contact ensures he’ll keep breathing.

I rub my other hand across tired eyes, keep it there as if to block out the scene before me. The only thing I can hear is the fire snapping and Daniel wheezing, the sounds filling my head. I look back over to Teal’c. He’s unconscious again, still being restrained by Jacob and Rak’nor.

We need to get home, the sooner the better.

Sam

The colonel sits silently for a few moments, face revealing nothing, though I know he’s disturbed by Teal’c's attack on Daniel. I know as well as he that Teal’c must have been hallucinating, but there is something extra gruesome about watching the dream come to life right in front of us. Helpless. We couldn’t free Daniel and if the colonel hadn’t got through when he did, I’d be kneeling next to a dead friend.

Make that two dead friends. Teal’c never would have forgiven himself if he had… I pull myself away from the useless thoughts. What ifs have no place here. I suddenly realize none of us have really spoken since we arrived on the moon when the colonel’s voice cuts into the tensely charged air.

“We’ve got to get them home. Now.”

This is not a request, the colonel’s tone is stiff with suppressed emotion. I can see Dad… no, Selmac, I think… bristling. His hands clench on Teal’c's shoulders for an instant, eyes shoot daggers at the colonel.

“We must first—” Yes, it is Selmac.

“NO! Do you hear me? I’ve got one man the victim of torture, with who knows what other side effects and another the victim of those who knows what other side effects! Home. Earth, Jacob,” the colonel shouts. “The fastest that goddamn hunk of Goa’uld technology can fly us!”

I wince as the colonel kicks a log with venomous force and stalks away into the night. Oh, he’s upset. I trail him for as long as I can before I turn back to Dad. He’s looking at me already, an apology plastered on his face. I smile at him briefly and refocus my attention on Daniel, feeling for his pulse again even though I can hear him breathing. It’s still weak and said breathing is extremely reedy. I’m worried Teal’c may have done more than bruise.

Probing Daniel’s neck gingerly, I feel for internal damage. It worries me he doesn’t flinch at my touch as my fingers massage the abused throat. I do flinch as I inspect the bruises, so deep I swear I can see Teal’c's fingerprints in them. I hear Dad and Rak’nor struggling with Teal’c. They are hauling him to the cargo vessel expediently. The colonel will be back any second and everyone knows to be ready for departure.

“Make sure you secure him!” I can’t refrain from calling.

“We will, Sam,” Dad replies instantly.

From what I can tell, Teal’c didn’t break anything. Thank God. I brush Daniel’s short hair to the side and begin dousing the fire. The colonel’s long strides approach and I look up to greet him, stopping before I start when I see his face. He goes directly to Daniel’s side, bends down and easily hoists him onto his shoulders. Daniel’s arms sway limply, hitting the colonel’s back as he carries him to the ship. I decide talking can wait until later.

Daniel

An obnoxious humming echoes in my ears, radiates through my head and spikes excruciatingly right behind my eyes. Images jumble into a kaleidoscope on my closed eyelids, tinged with bright red. Heru’ur’s ship exploding, Sam and I under the mine, Jack’s closed off face when we realized Teal’c had been transported to Apophis’ ship, Teal’c… Teal’c! No, Teal’c! All other images disappear and I’m left with only Teal’c's eyes. Two cold orbs, void of anything resembling the man I call friend.

Black. Soulless.

I shudder as I’m sucked into that vacuum of darkness. It seeps into me and I search for a glimmer of light, an indication Teal’c is still in there somewhere. I’m overcome with the grim reality that he may not be there. He’s been pushed so far, asked to endure too much and the strain finally broke him. No, I won’t believe that. Teal’c is too strong to give up on good. I force myself to look further into the void and I will pounce on any sliver of Teal’c I can find.

Hate! Pure venom oozes from the most remote corner of the dark place Teal’c has become. It’s sharp and brutal, stabs into me, jabs my throat with its spears. Oh, God! That’s all there is. Only hate, no room for anything else. The blackness turns to red and I try to back away. It’s too strong, suffocating me, dragging me into it like a lamb to the slaughter. Help, no! I can’t! Teal’c…no!

“Teal’c!”

I hear a pathetic voice call and I don’t recognize it. It’s harsh and scraggly, as if the speaker is a seventy-five year old chain smoker who’s done so much damage to his lungs and throat he sounds inhuman. Who? God, my throat is…

I’m suddenly vertical and swaying. I didn’t even know I was lying down. The room flops and my stomach is alternately in my chest and feet. Oh, I’m going to puke. The bile rises into my throat, burning like acid. I choke it back down desperately. I can’t it’ll hurt too much. I have to lie down again to stop the merry go round effect of the room. I’m unable to control my descent, my head clunks loudly on the floor. Floor? Inside? How did? A warm touch engulfs the left side of my face and nudges me gently. The memory of Teal’c choking me assails me, replacing the offered comfort. His eyes burn into me but all I feel is cold. I turn my head away, bat weakly at the hand.

“Easy, Daniel. It’s just me,” Jack gruffly snaps.

“Daniel, can you open your eyes?” Sam asks quietly.

I turn to her voice, settling down now that I know they are here. Why wouldn’t I be able to open my eyes? To answer her question, I crack them apart a slit. Sam is crouched at my side, face all ‘Major’, assessing and clinical, but I can still see her concern. I’m fine, Sam, just a little freaked out. Nothing new here. I’m unable to say the words I want—my esophagus has seen better days.

“Good. Do you remember what happened?”

Of course I do. How could I possibly forget? I shiver and give her a slight nod of affirmation. Her level of concern eases a bit. My throat and neck are throbbing.

“Do you think you can talk?”

Okay, that is a stupid question. I pin her with a ‘yikes, are you kidding me?’ look. Speak? Hardly. Even if I hadn’t just had my neck pinched together by an extremely strong Jaffa, my mouth is as dry as the sands of Abydos. She gets my point and offers me a canteen of water with a word of caution. I manage to swallow a third of what I’m aiming for, the rest spills out of my mouth and dribbles down behind my head.

“Where… ugh,” I start, grimacing at the razoring across my throat.

“Try whispering, Daniel,” Jack recommends.

“Teal’c?” I rasp.

“Don’t worry, we have him trussed up. He won’t hurt you anymore. Daniel, you know he…”

“No. Not…” I heave out, “that. He’s… oh, God.” It’s worse than that. So much worse. I have to know.

“What, Daniel?” Sam leans toward my face as she urges me to continue. She seeks out Jack and I turn in time to see him shake his head. They have to know how much danger Teal’c is in, from himself.

“Trouble. I have to see him,” I assert, finally able to piece together a sentence.

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea, Daniel,” Jack vetoes. “I mean, he’s still pretty out of it. Still dangerous.”

He is dangerous, yes! Jack should see this. He should know Teal’c's in trouble.

Please, Jack.

Jack

Daniel pleads with me silently. Whatever it is that has him so riled up must be worse than my poor brain can imagine. It’s not just that Teal’c tried to strangle him. That’s a symptom, not the disease. The point is moot anyway. Teal’c's still unconscious. I sigh as Daniel’s eyes bore a hole in me.

“Fine. We’ll come get you when he wakes up,” I concede. I hate not knowing what’s going on and I doubt either Daniel or Teal’c will clue me in.

“Promise?” he whispers hoarsely.

His neck looks terrible—all deep purple-black, with finger shaped bruises wrapping all the way around it. I wish he wouldn’t talk. Reminds me even more of what happened. Or what might have happened. I’ve never seen Teal’c lose control to that extent before and I hope I never will again. He almost reached that point on Vorash after Shau’nac’s murder, but he restrained himself in proper Jaffa fashion. I mimic the shudders that have been coursing through Daniel since he’s awakened.

“Jack?” Quieter this time.

“Yeah. I promise. Just rest, okay?”

“Eyes,” Daniel murmurs and stares at a spot between me and Carter, shaking his head firmly. I frown as the pain broadcasts across his face. What does that mean? Carter clears her throat and my head snaps to her. She jerks her head, signaling me to follow her out of Daniel’s earshot. I give him a short squeeze on his shoulder and a nod, grousing that I’m mad he’s not going to rest as ordered. He clenches his jaw. Uh oh. Very bad.

“Carter, what’s up?” I hiss when I draw up to her, keeping my head turned toward Daniel.

“I don’t know, sir. I’m just worried, I guess. Teal’c hasn’t shown any signs of regaining consciousness since we moved him and it took Daniel an awfully long time to wake up, too. I guess I’m just being paranoid or something.”

“Carter, you’re starting to sound like Daniel,” I state unkindly.

I shouldn’t take out my aggravation on her. She’s as concerned as I am and apparently has picked up on the vibe I’m getting from Daniel. He looks haunted by something and his refusal to even close his eyes is disturbing to say the least. Great, two people with post traumatic symptoms. It doesn’t make sense. The attack on Daniel didn’t last so long that he should be terrified like he seems to be. There has to be something else going on.

“Sorry, sir,” Carter whispers back. “I’m going to go check in with Dad and see how long till we reach Earth.”

I give Daniel one last glance. He’s still staring at some random point, not blinking or moving. His face is set in a perplexed frown, but he looks all right. Physically. I don’t really want to leave him alone. I don’t really want to stay with him, either. His condition only reminds me of Teal’c, who reminds me of torture, which reminds me of Iraq. It’s a sick loop I’d rather not deal with right now, so I opt to run.

“I’ll come with you. I’d like the chance to talk to this Rak’nor fella.”

Maybe he can give me specifics on what Teal’c was put through. Oy, looks as though I’m not going to be able to avoid referencing torture no matter how much I’d like. Better if it comes from a source I don’t care about.

Teal’c

Images shift in front of me with breakneck speed. The faces of Shau’nac and Daniel Jackson superimpose over each other with appalling implications. Both have been killed by someone whom they trusted.

Daniel violently forces himself in front of Shau’nac his face set in panic and agony. I struggle to sit up, reaching toward his ghost, as though I can grab onto him and pull him back to life. He backs away quickly, fearful now. I drop my hands and hang my head in shame. When I raise my head again, Shau’nac has come once again to the forefront. She beckons me as she did before and I find myself drawn to her side.

She coos her love for me, running a hand down the side of my face, trailing down my neck, shoulder, and arm. It changes direction at waist level, jutting rapidly for my primta. Her hand swishes around in my belly with vicious efficiency and the pain is intense, rivaling that of the torture I have endured. Shau’nac laughs and spits in my face, anger flaring her nostrils.

“How dare you claim to align yourself with the resistance? You who would kill a friend!” she accuses as she squeezes the larval Goa’uld. It squeals ceaselessly, the noise disruptive and alarming.

I feel no pain now, only numbness and cold. She is correct. I do not deserve to remain with the Tau’ri in the fight against the Goa’uld. Not with my crime.

Daniel Jackson is dead and I am responsible.

I gaze at her, aware she is killing me. I make no move to prevent it and she is satisfied. Gloating, Shau’nac turns from me to look back at Daniel. He shakes his head and moves his mouth in a frantic attempt to speak. No sound emerges from his lips. Shau’nac faces me once again, but she is no longer my love. Tanith has replaced her and he sneers at me with contempt.

“Fool! You will never defeat me!” He tosses his head back and roars with laughter again.

No! The emptiness disappears and I am filled with rage. I launch myself at him, determined to destroy him once and for all. It is because of him that I have betrayed my friends. He throws up a hand and I bounce off it, slumping to the floor.

I cannot allow him to win. For Shau’nac and now for Daniel Jackson I must be successful, regardless the price. Daniel peers over Tanith’s shoulder. He shakes his head and looks sorrowful. I pause and stare at him.

Daniel continues to shake his head. He turns away from me, walking into the shadows. I am suddenly bereft. He does not approve of my actions. I must make him understand.

“Daniel Jackson, wait!”

I sit up, lungs heaving. Where am I? I look to my surroundings, surprised to find myself aboard the Tok’ra Teltak, hands and feet bound securely. My injuries have healed considerably. I have been here for some time. I jump as I hear movement to my right and pivot to face whoever is with me.

It is Daniel Jackson.

“Teal’c?” he froggishly croaks.

Is he real or an illusion? He cannot be real. I killed him. Dead. My hands are bloody with guilt. How can I ever face O’Neill and Major Carter? Dead. He’s here to haunt me, to cry out the injustice of his own death. A soul in unrest. I have the opportunity now to explain. To apologize to his ghost and I cannot. The words will not come.

Daniel’s eyes search my face, unblinking and calm in their perusal. He looks as he did when attempting to decipher a difficult passage of text, puzzled and determined. He will never look this way again. I swallow back the lump that has developed.

“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson,” I finally whisper.

There. I have said it. Perhaps the specter before me will depart and my own soul can gain some peace. His eyes soften and relief radiates from them. I close my eyes and turn my head in shame.

“It wasn’t your fault, Teal’c,” Daniel murmurs, pain etching the words. “Are you all right?”

Quaking hands are undoing the bonds around my wrists. How is this possible? A ghost should not be able to do this. I jerk away from the touch before the task is complete.

“Teal’c?”

“You… you are not real. Please leave me. I am sorry. Please,” I cannot bear to look at him and am unable to maintain my composure. It is a discomfiting feeling.

“Not real?” the horrible voice scrapes. “What? No, Teal’c. It’s me! I’m real!”

The urgency strikes me, as does the reapplication of the fingers upon my wrists. Real. Not dead? I snap my head to meet Daniel’s eyes, mere inches from my own.

Alive?

Daniel

Maybe I shouldn’t be untying Teal’c's hands. Who can say if he’ll experience any more hallucinations? It’s a chance I’m willing to take. I just can’t see him a prisoner of his own friends. He’s shaking, either from cold or fear and his hands are icy.

Jack’s going to kill me for coming to Teal’c and especially for letting him loose, but I don’t care. I had to come. The instant he and Sam were out of my sight, I was up and moving. They don’t understand what’s at stake here. They didn’t see what I saw. What I thankfully no longer see.

Teal’c whips his face toward me when I finish loosening his bonds, dark eyes wide with the realization that I am indeed alive. He relaxes a bit, using the wall as a support. I fold my warm hands over his cold ones and rub them in the hopes the friction will make warmth seep into him. He’s only a couple of fingers width away from me, eyes tracking my every move as if he’s still not completely convinced I’m here. I drop my hands and start undoing his feet, anger rankling me. They carried it a bit far with the restraints.

Once he’s finally freed, I take the opportunity to check out his physical wounds. He looks much better than he did before. I smile with relief and search his face again for signs of distress. He’s Teal’c again. Eyes are brimming with concern, the void is gone. Its absence is welcome and yet I can’t shake the fear it set upon me. Even thinking about it brings goosebumps. I have to know it won’t reappear.

“Alive?” Teal’c hesitantly asks at last.

“Yes,” I say softly, holding back the cringe as searing pain scores through me. He doesn’t need that reminder.

Teal’c reaches up to touch my abused neck and I am unable to hold still. My body reacts, even though my brain knows there is no threat. He drops his hands instantly and looks away when I fall to my butt and slide away. Shit! I curse myself and catch the limbs before they fall into his lap. Teal’c tenses, but looks back to me.

“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson. I was not aware—”

“I know, Teal’c. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“How can you say that? Can you not feel and hear what I have done to you?” Teal’c cries, suddenly angry.

For some reason, I find his question funny. I chuckle and immediately regret the action. Pain rips through my tortured throat and I choke and gurgle alarmingly. It only causes more agony. Teal’c flies to my side, hand rubs my back in a circular motion and assists me back to a normal breathing pattern. I don’t jerk away this time, a fact I know he notices. I sober, acknowledging the validity of his points.

“Oh, I feel it,” I comment wryly. “But I know it wasn’t me you were strangling. Who was it, Teal’c?”

His hands stop at my query and he moves from my side. “I remember nothing.”

He’s lying! Teal’c and lying do not mix. What the hell is going on? “You’re not telling me the truth, Teal’c.”

I don’t know why this is so important, just that it is. Teal’c shifts to his side and rises on trembling legs. He walks farther away from me, still not meeting my gaze. I want to stand as well to prevent him from escaping me, but I’m suddenly bone tired. I can only watch him pace in front of me in an unsteady stride. My uneasiness creeps up with every step he takes, every moment he avoids me.

“Who was it, Teal’c?” I repeat.

Suddenly Teal’c is in my face, leaning in so closely I can feel his breath gusting onto my cheeks. He’s angry, eyes flashing his rage. I’m not afraid of this rage. It’s different from before, not all-consuming darkness. For infinite seconds, we simply stare at each other and then Teal’c grabs my face with fierce strength. I yank my head back in panic, unable to break from his grip.

“It is better if you do not know,” he spits enigmatically and withdraws from my personal space. His eyes are now distraught and sad.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? “Better for me or better for you, Teal’c?”

Sam

I have to remember to ask Dad why these things aren’t equipped with better seating arrangements. Rak’nor has just finished giving us an extremely detailed account of Teal’c's torture and I can’t feel my legs. I allow myself to lean into the wall, one hand clamped firmly across my mouth.

I knew it was… bad… simply based on Teal’c's physical injuries, but not this bad. Teal’c is lucky to be alive. I think I understand exactly what was going through his mind back on the moon. God, he thinks Bra’tac is dead. We have to tell him it’s not true, a vicious lie told to break his spirit.

The colonel touches my forearm, a silent question on his face. I nod that I’m all right, embarrassed to be showing my weakness in front of him. He shakes his head as though he knows my thoughts and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“You know for sure Bra’tac has not been captured?” the colonel asks Rak’nor.

“I do. I was present during all interrogations and not one Jaffa would disclose his location,” Rak’nor replies, ducking his head in disgrace.

“Sir, we have to tell him. Bra’tac was like a father to him. Just the seed of the idea he may be dead would be unthinkable for Teal’c,” I say unnecessarily.

“I know that, Carter,” the colonel retorts with irritation. “Let’s go.”

The hand on my arm tightens and drags me toward the hold where we’ve placed Teal’c. As we pass Daniel’s location, I peer into it to see how he’s faring. I dig my heels into the hard floor when I see he’s not there.

“Sir! Daniel—”

“Goddamnit! Does he never listen to me?” the colonel snarls.

I almost laugh at that question—never has there been a more rhetorical one. The seriousness of the situation Daniel may have got himself into quells it before it can spring to life. Knowing Daniel, he’s gone and untied Teal’c.

My half joking supposition is confirmed as we race into Teal’c's prison. There in the big Jaffa’s arms is an unconscious Daniel. The colonel and I jump for Teal’c at the same time and manage to pry his hands away.

Daniel falls.

Teal’c

“Better for me or better for you, Teal’c?”

“For all, Daniel Jackson.”

Why does he insist on this line of conversation? Once started, Daniel will not desist and even knowing this, I do not wish him to know the evil I am capable of rendering. I sneak a covert glance at the young man sitting on the floor. He sees. He knows. He is concerned for my soul, not concerned for my physical well being. I suddenly understand he has already been a witness to the evil within me.

“I don’t buy that. Who was it? The guy who tortured you? Who?” Daniel demands with his scratchy voice.

He has given me a way out. “Bra’tac is dead, killed by the Goa’uld who inflicted these injuries upon me.”

My words garner the reaction I intended. “Wha… what? Are you sure?”

“Terok, my torturer, told me it was so. I know if Bra’tac fell prey to him, death would be his only option.”

Shock and disbelief set Daniel’s features as he struggles to assimilate the information I have shared with him. Now he will think it to be my torturer whom I was envisioning when I held his life in my hands. I do not know why it is so important to me that he does not know my true motivation.

“Well, Teal’c, don’t you think it possible he was just telling you that as a psychological means to wear you down?” Daniel surmises. “How do you know he was telling you the truth? No, I—”

He knows I am lying. “Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel looks up at me, eyes narrowing now with suspicion. “When I came in, you were dreaming. You called out for me and for Shau—”

His eyes widen, comprehension flooding them. He scrambles to his feet, taking a tentative step toward me. And then his eyes roll back into his skull and he’s falling. I lunge forward and catch his shoulders in a tight hold, only to have them forcibly removed. O’Neill and Major Carter wrestle my still weakened body away from Daniel and he slips through all of our hands.

He lands on the floor with a sickening thud.

Jack

It’s different this time. Teal’c doesn’t possess the strength of one caught in a nightmare. He yields easily to mine and Carter’s and he loosens his grip on Daniel. This distracts me and I’m not fast enough to stop Daniel’s drop. Shit. He plunges face down onto the floor and we all just look at him.

“O’Neill. I was not harming Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c reproaches me.

I actually take the time to assess Teal’c and see he’s back with us. Shit. What have we done? Carter is aghast, instantly releases Teal’c and falls to her knees next to Daniel. I follow suit and we manage to turn him over onto his back. Teal’c, oddly, remains standing.

Carter snatches a wrist and feels for a pulse, knowing any pressure on Daniel’s neck will cause him more pain. He’s got bump forming quite nicely on his left temple. Talk about adding insult to injury. I look intently at Carter’s face, satisfied when she smiles.

“He’ll be fine, sir.”

“Of… course… I will be,” the victim of all our harmful good intentions weakly groans, scrunching his face into a grimace. “Just stood up a bit too fast, that’s all. Head rush. What are you guys doing here?”

“Gee, Daniel. I dunno. Could it be we came back to check on you and found you AWOL?” I grumble. “What the hell were you thinking? Teal’c could have killed you! No offense, Teal’c.”

Teal’c's face cracks for an instant. Great. I’ve just rubbed salt in his already no doubt sore wound. His jaw twitches spastically and he turns away from us. I scrub my hand through my hair.

“Good, Jack.” Daniel’s harsh rasp reprimands me more than his actual words. Like Teal’c needs any additional reminders of the recent events. Seriously, if it were physically possible, I’d kick my own ass.

“Teal’c, I didn’t mean—”

“It is all right, O’Neill. Daniel Jackson’s actions were indeed foolhardy. There was no way for him to be certain of my state of mind,” Teal’c intones solemnly.

“Hey,” Daniel protests vainly.

“Yeah, about that, Teal’c. We just got done, uh, talking to Rak’nor and he said that Terok guy told you Bra’tac was dead. It’s not true,” I say simply.

“He lied to get to you, Teal’c. Rak’nor assures us he’s still alive,” Carter chimes in.

Teal’c's tense body relaxes and he abruptly sinks to the floor. He cradles his face in his hands for long moments and then raises his head again. I’ve only seen Teal’c laugh in earnest once, and now I get to experience it again. It’s a beautiful sound and yet disturbing in its veracity. He continues on for a good minute until I become a bit uncomfortable. Carter squirms and fixes her gaze anywhere but on Teal’c. He really believed his teacher to be dead.

“Teal’c?” Daniel whispers and struggles to rise. Carter guides him to a sitting position and he sways a bit. “Teal’c?”

It’s the strangest thing. Teal’c stops laughing immediately at Daniel’s voice and looks at him. Daniel stares back and suddenly it’s as though Carter and I aren’t even in the room. Both of their expressions are unreadable and intense, communication flying soundlessly. My head whiplashes between them, trying to get a fix on whatever it is going on between them.

Teal’c breaks the silence finally, saying only, “Bra’tac lives.”

“Yes,” Carter confirms again, with a certain hesitancy in her voice. I look at her quickly. She sees what’s going on too, and is equally bothered by it.

“Then all will be well,” Teal’c states with finality.

Conversation’s over. We won’t be getting anything out of him or Daniel. It frustrates me to no end the ability these two have to clam up. Especially when that which they strive to conceal usually ends up biting me in the rear. Okay, I can let this slide. For now. I sigh loudly, giving in to both men sitting next to me.

Why do I think this is all far from over?

Daniel

Teal’c shakes his head at me, a shadow of a movement. Once again, I’m aware of information he doesn’t wish, or isn’t ready to share with Jack and Sam. I’m not stupid. I know what he’s asking me to do. I also know I shouldn’t do it. But I have to trust Teal’c to do the right thing. To tell Jack would be a betrayal of that trust.

At the same time, to not tell Jack is a betrayal of his trust. I’ve become Daniel Jackson: Walking Moral Dilemma. I hate it. It’s a responsibility I haven’t chosen and certainly don’t want. Teal’c pleads with me, and I think I find that the must upsetting thing about this whole mess. Why is it so vital to him that it remains a secret? It doesn’t make sense. Jack saw the fury on Vorash, knows Teal’c's hatred for Tanith is boundless. Jack should figure it out…

Jack already knows! How could he not? He’s choosing to ignore the problem, allowing it to fester instead of attempting to heal it. What he doesn’t know, what he didn’t see, is that Teal’c is capable of pure, unadulterated revenge. It won’t matter to him who stands in his way. Should an opportunity ever arise to slay Tanith, Teal’c will take it.

I’m not positive I can trust Teal’c to do the ‘right’ thing. In fact, I’m pretty sure the opposite is true. God, what should I do? Maybe I can intercede with Teal’c before he ever has such a chance. Reason with him, make him aware of the repercussions his bloodlust might wreak.

Teal’c's still stares at me, assuring me silently that he will not come undone. I swallow and answer his headshake with a nod. I have to look away, closing my eyes.

There, floating before me, I see Teal’c's cold, dead eyes and I shudder.

The End

—

Circle
by Carrie

Suns pounding relentlessly on his bare back and chest, Jack stopped to check on his injured companion. It had been an easy choice to make: rig the travois with a protective tent made of his jacket and T-shirt, or let Daniel bake. Given the archaeologist was already feverish from the huge and now probably infected gash on his side, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. Of course when he’d stripped to the waist he hadn’t expected the second and third suns, which hadn’t appeared until midday. Within minutes of their rising, he could feel his body temperature shoot up and his skin start to burn. Standard issue sunblock didn’t appear to work against the rays at all, what little likely remained on his skin. He’d probably sweated it off hours ago, and he was beginning to get concerned about developing at least second degree burns. Setting the makeshift travois down on the ground, he crouched next to it and peered underneath the tent. Daniel’s face was alarming pallid, two bright spots of unnatural red coloring his cheeks. Sweat soaked his hair and shirt, but Jack couldn’t tell if it was from the fever or the just the heat from the suns. At least the cloth seemed to be blocking the harmful rays, his friend’s slightly exposed side maintaining its pale complexion.

To completely understate the situation, they were in trouble. With a capital T. Jack took off his boonie, wrung the sweat out of it and shook his head ferociously. The salty droplets landed on the hard ground with hisses, providing needless proof of the heat. The old adage of frying an egg on the sidewalk on a hot day sprang to mind, and he vowed to never again complain about the heat on Earth. He jammed the hat back on, reaching for his canteen. There wasn’t much water left, and they still had five miles to go before they reached the Stargate. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

A quick brush across Daniel’s forehead made him frown deeply. Heat was radiating from the younger man, his clothes as drenched as Jack’s own. He tilted the canteen to Daniel’s lips, prying them open with his left hand. Water trickled from the container and dribbled down his chin. He quickly swiped at the moisture, dampening his fingers. Patting the archaeologist’s cheeks with his slightly cooled hand, he sneaked a look at the wound causing the fever. He hadn’t seen it coming; had gotten careless. Hell, neither of them had even been wearing their vests to provide a glint of protection from that warthog, reeking, monster thing. It had headed right for Daniel. Lifted him high into the air. Too late. He’d shot the beast but it had been too late. More of them had come from out of the ruins, heaving and snorting, with a strange green-brown goo coating their tusks. Nothing he could do but gather Daniel into a fireman’s carry and run like hell.

Ran for at least two miles before he realized they weren’t being chased, fueled by adrenalin and Daniel’s moans. Had been lucky enough to have been holding his canteen and wearing a GDO but not lucky enough to grab anything else. No rations, no radios. No way to get help to them, so he had to bring them… him… to help. Jack shook his head, angrily expelling the replaying memories from it. It sure as hell wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on thing he couldn’t change. He’d made a critical error in splitting the team, and Daniel was paying for it. But he wouldn’t allow his friend to pay the ultimate price. Worry about Daniel’s, and his own, situation prompted him to wonder if Carter and Teal’c were all right. Something like this might have happened to them and he’d have no way of knowing.

Gathering himself, Jack took a tiny sip and capped the canteen. There wouldn’t be enough to last the rest of the way, especially not when every step was sucking more and more energy out of him. Carter had guessed a day to be approximately thirty hours on this lovely resort and spa known as PR7 601. He wasn’t sure but he’d be willing to bet those extra six hours were all daylight, which meant there was still a good four hours left to suffer. They didn’t have that long and he knew it.

Again, he was choiceless. He needed to cover himself at least partially if he wanted to cling to the insane hope of getting them out of this. Giving up was not an option. Sizing up the shirt-tent, he thought he could keep Daniel’s head and shoulders mostly covered using only his jacket. The younger man’s clothing kept the rest of him reasonably protected, though Jack feared the fever was only being worsened by keeping him fully clothed. What he needed was shade and a way to cool Daniel down. Looking across the barren landscape, he had little hope of that. The only indication of habitation had been at the ruins site and around it’s perimeters. Once he’d realized the creatures had lost interest, Jack had set Daniel down, futzing with the dead and petrifying trees, using the sturdiest branches he could find to construct the sled in which the younger man now lay. They never should have come to this planet. He’d been stupid to bring his team here.

Tearing angrily at the black T-shirt, he yanked it toward him. The jacket also fluttered down, exposing Daniel’s face to the bright light. He didn’t react at all to the change, and Jack swallowed. The T-shirt was so hot against his skin as he tugged it over his head that he got gooseflesh. Ignoring the discomfort, he quickly secured the jacket back over his friend and checked his surroundings one more time.

Everything blurred for a second. He closed his eyes, trying to give them moisture his body no longer seemed to be able to produce. When he opened them, clarity returned. He blinked, unsure what he was seeing was real. Standing, his stomach lurched as the world shifted. He blinked again. There. What was that? It looked… it looked like water. A lake. In the middle of a wasteland? Confused and excited at the same time, Jack latched onto the bier and headed for salvation.

“Should we not first return to the SGC to obtain protective gear, Major Carter?” Teal’c reasoned, eyeing his friend and teammate with concern. The unanticipated rising of two additional suns sparked immediate trepidation in the young major, and himself if he were truthful. Having been stranded on a planet with similar environmental conditions, both knew how dire it was to get home. It had been unfortunate they had been so far from the Stargate but they had made their journey back with relative ease, spurred by worry. Even so, he could see her fair skin beginning to blister. “It will do O’Neill and Daniel Jackson no good if we were to perish in an attempt to locate them.”

Giving in to impulse, he stepped toward the pacing major and halted her movement with a sure hand on her arm. Startled blue eyes gaped back at him, her surprise transmuting into fear. Fear for their teammates. Upon the first sun’s appearance, Major Carter had initiated radio contact with O’Neill, briefly explaining the immediate need for retreat through the Stargate. In the minutes of silence that had followed, Teal’c glimpsed a moment of panic cross the features of his companion. His own agitation had increased after repeated attempts to contact their friends failed, numerous scenarios had played through his mind. O’Neill was not one to ignore protocol. It had been apparent there was something wrong and so prompted, they had traveled as quickly as the heat permitted.

One matter which now bore a large weight on his mind was the possibility they would be unable to return for their missing friends. Their previous experience on such a world had proven it unlikely any amount of protection would be futile against such strong heat and radiation. Already, they had stayed too long. General Hammond would not permit Major Carter’s presence on a rescue mission. Should he authorize such a mission at all.

“Just a few more minutes, Teal’c. I can’t… we can’t,” Major Carter stuttered, clearly distraught at the choice which lay before her. She understood quite well the consequences of leaving PR7 601, Teal’c realized. She bleakly looked at him, then averted here eyes westward. The direction of the ruins at which they knew O’Neill and Daniel Jackson had reached. He also searched the landscape as she continued with uncertain certainty, “They’ll come back. We just have to give them a little more time. You know those two. Always coming through in a pinch.”

Although Teal’c wanted to believe the same, he could not. Reality made itself known all around them. No living thing could survive this atmosphere for long periods of time. This had obviously not always been the case but the facts now spoke only of desolation and death. He gave Major Carter another perusal. Their trek had been approximately half the distance O’Neill and Daniel Jackson had to journey, and she was exhibiting signs of heat exhaustion and definite burning. He could not allow her to remain planetside for more than one hour.

“Contacting the SGC for supplies and to inform General Hammond of the situation would be wise,” he gently stated. The true level of her distress could be measured in the fact she had not already come to this conclusion. Teal’c narrowed his eyes as she noticeably stiffened. Or perhaps she had reached it, and rejected it for fear the general would order them to return. It was indeed likely he would do precisely that. Against his better judgment, he decided not to pursue the issue. His own fear for their friends acted against the stoic logic upon which he normally relied. Still, when it reached the point her health was also in jeopardy, he would have to insist they leave. “Major Carter, I would not recommend our stay here to exceed one more hour.”

Knowing eyes turned to look at him again, filled with gratitude and increasing worry. She said nothing, only giving him a brief nod before turning back to watch the horizon. Teal’c watched her for a few seconds, saw her hand reach halfway to her radio twice and drop down. There was no way to determine what had happened to O’Neill and Daniel Jackson, and he feared they would never know. That perhaps was the most unbearable aspect of this situation; to never know whether any action on their part could save their friends, or to wonder forever if they were still alive. To cling to unreasonable hope.

Dark thoughts invaded his brain, pushing hope out with every passing minute. He and Major Carter stood side by side in silence, waiting. Waiting for an ending which would not be happy. Teal’c shook his head, angry with himself for succumbing to negativity. His companion was not wrong to hang onto that hope. O’Neill and Daniel Jackson had proven resiliency many times in the past. He must let go of the dread building in him. By some way or means, his friends would survive. He had to believe that.

Another fifteen minutes, that’s all the time they had left. She knew Teal’c was right; could feel the damage the suns were inflicting upon her but she just couldn’t give up on them. Neither the colonel nor Daniel would abandon her, not if there was still a chance. No matter how slight. Eyes never straying from their important watch, Sam paced. Energy should be conserved, but the action was automatic and vital. Kept her sane while her mind roiled. She knew the chances of survival were growing impossibly slim, especially considering it was likely one or both of them had sustained some type of injury. Her overactive imagination fed her many ‘what-if’ scenes, each one more gruesome than the last. Images of death.

Never should have happened. They should have anticipated the presence of multiple suns. Hell, she herself had estimated the length of the day and had commented on the lack of life. How could she have missed something so crucial? The colonel and Daniel were out in this because of her stupidity. Even without injury, they’d never make it back to the Stargate. Eight miles with those goddamn rays beating down. God, she wished they still had radio contact. Hope was fading and she really needed some sort of sign. She violently brought her canteen to her lips, choking a mouthful of water that tasted like sand. Sam closed her eyes tightly, madly wishing when she opened them she’d see her friends’ silhouettes in the distance. Snorting softly, she opened them. Nothing. There was no way they could have survived this long. Her friends were dead.

Inching her left hand up to her radio, Sam thought to try and raise them one last time. Maybe something had happened within one of the ancient structures. Maybe they had both been unconscious within the relative safety and shade of a building. Maybe…no. She had to stop deluding herself. It was time to go home, half a team. Half a family. She shakily sighed, lifting her hand up to shade her eyes more than her sunglasses and boonie could. Searching for ghosts. Finding nothing but lifeless, tan landscape. She let her arm go limp, swinging it haphazardly down to her side.

Every part of her body and soul crying in misery, Sam turned away at last. Moving soundlessly past Teal’c, she focused on the DHD with a heavy lump in her stomach. Shock was protecting her from the worst of the emotional pain, numbing her mind so she progressed in a haze. She began inputting the chevrons for Earth, moving as if under water. She had not made it to the third symbol when a dark hand clasped hers urgently. Startled, she looked up into Teal’c's equally stunned eyes. He deliberately looked away, and she followed his gaze. There. Was it… oh God, it was! She forgot her task and her exhaustion, running toward the wavering, dusty figure and the sled he was dragging.

Laughing with slight hysteria, the colonel was shaking his head as she and Teal’c approached. He looked awful. Vibrant red colored all visible skin, lips were cracked and brown with dried blood. He was barely able to stand but kept walking, not even acknowledging their existence. She touched his arm, scared out of her mind at the reaction she might receive. He jerked to a stop, mumbling unintelligibly. Rather than looking at her, the colonel gently set down the travois and lifted the jacket protecting Daniel’s unmoving form. She gasped at the sight, horrified to see a large cut on the archaeologist’s side, infection obvious even without close inspection. Unable to tell if he was even still breathing, she leaned over, again placing her hand on her CO. He flickered his gaze to her, eyes hidden by sunglasses. His lips moved, so she bent closer.

“Truth? Are you real? Real… before saw you not real. Real?” he pitifully croaked. Sam swallowed and nodded, trying to think what she could do to prove it. He kept talking, disregarding everything except Daniel. “Not. Can’t be. Danny, so sorry. Couldn’t tried my fault. Should have killed it killed you me. Dead. Sorry sorry.”

Even before the last word wrenched from his lips, he was collapsing. Sam lunged to catch him at the same instant as Teal’c. He fell through her arms into the Jaffa’s. Without thought, they were moving. She took her CO’s previous position, tugging the travois closer to the ‘gate, heart beating faster than she thought possible. They were going home, all of them. A little rough around the edges… hell, a lot rough around the edges. But alive.

Alive and together.

Light assaulted dark, gradually but resolutely dispelling the shadows. Memories filtered though, fragmented and nonsensical. Pain. Insufferable heat. Jack’s voice accompanied by frequent grunts of exertion. Rocking back and forth. Fire burning into and through him. Slowly, Daniel realized none of those things existed any longer. He was warm but not uncomfortably so and vestiges of pain teased but did not stab. Confusion increased as he tried to figure out where he was, how he had gotten there. Was he dead? Brow furrowing, he thought he remembered Jack saying they were dead. He didn’t feel dead. Could smell. Hear. Voices, not Jack’s. Female. Wait… Jack!

Cracking his eyes open in panic, Daniel was greeted by the relieved face of Sam Carter. She smiled reassuringly at him and turned her head away, calling to someone. He paid no attention, instead tried to raise his shoulders off of the bed. Infirmary? Of course. But where was Jack? Soft, firm hands pushed him back down and began poking and prodding. Irritated, he tried to worm away, eyes still seeking Jack. Voices told him to calm down, that everything was all right. He didn’t believe them. Would only believe it if he could see for himself. Frustrated, he opened his mouth to ask for what he needed, surprised when only a raspy croak sounded. Sudden warmth flowed through him, his muscles relaxing through some unnatural force. He gave up, faded into black again.

Awakening for the second time proved easier. Daniel floated down, opened his eyes slowly and saw Teal’c towering at his bedside. Vaguely remembering the struggles from before, he muddily thought he should try another approach. He blinked as a female voice called for Doctor Fraiser. Sam? He tilted his head weakly, taking in her figure on the other side of him. Her skin was tinged pink, blisters covering her nose, cheeks and lips. Frowning, he lifted his uncooperative hand to touch her face. She captured it and put it back down, still saying nothing. Her eyes spoke. Oh… it had been bad. Very… where was Jack?

Nodding, Daniel licked dry lips. Instantly, Sam reached for a glass, dipping her fingers in it to withdraw ice chips and placed them to his mouth. Gratefully, he sucked on them until he thought he could speak. The hoarseness of his voice still caught him off guard. “What happened? Jack?”

“Daniel, you cut it too close this time,” Sam began, pausing when a nurse butted in to check his reading and…ow. He looked down to find himself bare chested, a substantial gauze bandage covering his torso. That creature. Whatever it was. He reflexively shuddered, then tore his eyes away as the nurse peeled back the wrapping. Sam continued, moving slightly to allow him to see the sleeping figure of Jack O’Neill in the adjacent bed. “We’re not really sure what happened, to be honest. Both you and the colonel have been delirious for a couple of days. It seems obvious, though, that you had a run in with some type of indigenous life. Your wound was massively infected. Almost killed you…” she trailed off, skin paling even under the sunburn. Daniel fumbled for her hand, wanting to tell her he was okay. She nodded. “The colonel wasn’t injured but he pushed himself so hard to get back to the ‘gate he’s severely dehydrated and had heat stroke. Plus second degree burns over his back and chest.”

Sinking back into the pillow, Daniel relaxed into the lethargy. He blinked sluggishly at her, regretful for the anxiety still haunting her eyes. Doctor Fraiser appeared over his shoulder, identical expression of relieved concern coloring her face as she gently slid closer to him. Checking him over, she said nothing and allowed the silence to remain hanging over the area. He turned to see Teal’c watching her every move, deceptively neutral. Bobbing his head at his friends, he struggled to find words to comfort them.

“All right,” he whispered and waited for Teal’c to bow his head in acceptance. It wasn’t nearly enough but it was a start. Even with only portions of the story told, Daniel understood what he and Sam must have gone through. He looked to her, squeezing the hand which still held tightly onto his. Purposely looking to Jack’s sleeping form, he said. “We’re all okay now.”

More needed to be said but he could feel the tug of sleep pulling at him. He closed his eyes and found he was unable to open them again. In the haze before slumber, Daniel heard his friends begin speaking softly. Words of reassurance and comfort. Of family. When he woke, he’d find them still there and find Jack back with them. Knowing that, Daniel slept.

The End

Coda
by Carrie

With Bees (Outro)
by Neko Case

How’s hope feeling today?
Tired and sick of this place.
Red wine is fast at the lip of your glass and I’m gonna ruin everything.

Everything.

So it’s better, my sweet,
that we hover like bees
`cause there’s no sure footing,
no love I believe.

Sam felt no better than she had upon immediately waking. Of course, it had only been a couple minutes. It might take weeks for her to feel like herself again. Everything around her maintained the surrealism she had experienced on the ship. For a vacillating minute, she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t still there and not here. It felt as if she was at the bottom of a deep pool of water, looking up at him. Jack rippled and moved, even though she was pretty sure he was standing still. People didn’t usually ripple.

“Need anything? Magazine? Yo-yo?” Jack said.

It sounded like he was about a thousand miles away from her and his question was flip and ridiculous. She didn’t understand why he was so cheerfully blas while she lay here in misery. It angered her to think about, that he could be so…normal. When she was a freshman in college, she’d had an English major roommate who had tried to tell her that the point of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” was not that the two main characters were madly in love and that the world just couldn’t understand that—it was that they were foolish children who couldn’t possibly know what love was. And that they died just as foolishly for false love.

Sam hadn’t bought that theory. She thought perhaps she should reconsider.

For now, though, she reconsidered the wavering thing—maybe she was the one who was moving. Which direction was she going, Sam wondered, and what was her final destination? She didn’t know if she was supposed to be going one way or another, forward or back. She decided it might be best if she hovered in once place, if that was even possible, and just wait.

But waiting was passive, and it felt wrong, felt not Sam. It seemed she didn’t even know herself anymore. She was so confused. Jack’s face was bland and she couldn’t tell if that was his intention or not. He was no help in guiding her. He was always the same. He should be a rock, someone for her to rely on. Instead he was a rock, someone for her to smack into over and over again until she bled from her soul. His stupid question rattled around in her aching head, a boulder. It pinned her to the bed, inexplicably prevented her from hovering.

Sam hated herself for being this way. She shouldn’t need guiding, she reminded herself. She never had, not in her whole life. And she had certainly never needed a man to cling to and give her identity. She swallowed thickly. Her tongue felt too large for her mouth. There was something wrong with her. There had to be.

“I’m fine,” she answered his question.

She wasn’t fine, though she had no idea why she’d lied about something that must be so obvious. She was irritated. She was hurt that Jack wanted to be funny when she was lying here, crushed by his heavy weight. Of course, it was entirely possible he didn’t have a clue what he was doing to her. She blinked at him and he just stood there. It continued to bother her tremendously that she couldn’t interpret his expression. She didn’t know if she had ever been able to do that. Thinking about it made her realize Jack was always inscrutable to her. There was something intensely upsetting about that. It wasn’t right, was it? It shouldn’t be. It should be exactly the opposite.

The water effect rippled violently. Her head throbbed and her stomach turned. Sam found herself wanting to close her eyes or to look away from him, maybe, but she could do neither. Her mind kept turning it around, over and over—he had rebuffed her, refused to allow her the simple pleasure of addressing him by his first name. He was always doing that and she had thought it was simply because of the fraternization rules.

She was no longer certain that was the only reason. A sick idea swirled inside that regulations were just a tiny factor. She stared at him anyway, wanting him to tell her he’d made a mistake. Everything was a mistake. That the rules were stupid and didn’t apply to their unique situation, and that what they went through every day was grounds for exemption from them. Or at least bending of them.

“Yes, you are,” Jack said and smiled softly.

And for one exhilarating moment, she was back on the Prometheus and she was kissing him for all she was worth. It felt so damn good. It was everything to her. Sam wanted to forget her body’s pains and pull herself out of bed now, and up to him. Into his arms, where she belonged. She vaguely wondered if perhaps it was her vision of him, of them kissing and finally together, that had kept her holding on when she had really just wanted to sleep without thought of waking ever again. She hoped it was. She was almost positive it was. Nothing had ever felt so right.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered.

Jack stared down at her, looking thoroughly baffled. Sam wanted to retch. She’d called him sir and that felt so right.

And for one sickening moment, she was back on the Prometheus and she was realizing she was nothing more than a foolish girl with foolish dreams. She couldn’t ever have that. It was fantasy, make believe, and Jack was telling her this was the truth. The colonel had always told the major this was the truth. As the kiss had filled her, this realization gutted. It was this terrible reality that had kept her going, perhaps, and not the kiss. It had never been the kiss. It was never him. That was a horrible thing to think about, as the truth often was.

“For what?”

Sam’s lips tingled with the remembrance of the kiss that never was, not even in her imagination, really. Her heart ached with the knowledge he had given…no, that she had known all along. She must have known. If she hadn’t, then she truly was a foolish girl.

There was nothing. There was nothing more in his eyes for her than concern for a team member. Even if there might be or ever had been… Sam knew in her heart there was still nothing.

“Nothing,” she said.

It broke her soul to admit it. And, strangely, it set her free.

She hadn’t even realized it until this very moment, but she had so wanted freedom. Her head swam and Jack rippled up above her again. He didn’t look unkind. But he also didn’t look like he loved her. Suddenly, she thought all of her experiences on the Prometheus had been because she hadn’t even realized she needed freeing. She thought she was going to be fine after all. If she kept repeating that over and over, maybe it would become as much the truth as the non-relationship.

Jack looked around, appeared to be puzzling out her behavior. He looked gorgeous and she wanted him so badly. Strange how now that she had gained her liberty, Sam wondered if being chained was not such a bad thing. She had harbored these feelings and impulses for Jack for so long it was a huge part of her identity.

No. No, she had to stop this. She was in purgatory between these two extremes and she knew it. And she didn’t believe either one, not truly, because both options were too terrible to bear.

“Think nothing of it,” Jack said. “I’ve got plenty of that.”

Yes. Nothing. Sam watched him for a moment. He couldn’t know how accurately he had spoken. She didn’t want him to know. Finally, Jack wandered away, seemingly unaware of her. She closed her eyes and contemplated if she should keep hovering in one place or float away at long last.

She was no Juliet.

The End

Coming Down Glass
by Carrie

There was only one thing of which Daniel was aware—the rain cutting against his face. At first it seemed he should bleed from the assault, but now he felt no pain. No. His eyes stung. He looked toward the dark sky, let the rain shards slice his eyes. He put a damp hand in his pocket and fingered the glasses there. They would offer him a small amount of protection. He didn’t want that. He took his hand back out of the pocket, let it fall onto his thigh. If he could, he would tear his eyes from his skull and throw them on the ground, crush them beneath his feet. He didn’t want to see anymore.

He couldn’t stay here forever, wherever here was. He blinked. His eyelids were pumice against his eyelids, sloughing off skin. He was being torn from inside as well as out. His suit was getting ruined as well, torn to shreds by the violent, icy rain. Ridiculous. It was only getting saturated and would live to see another day. Live to see another day. What a terrible expression. Daniel was horrified by it and for thinking it. He lifted his right hand and swiped it down his left sleeve, as if he could slide the water away. Even if it worked, it would be a temporary fix only. All fixes were temporary, which meant the definition for ‘fix’ had to be wrong.

He thought he was becoming more aware than he wanted to be. Or unhinged. He suspected both might be inevitable.

Daniel stood up. Water that had collected in his lap splashed away, blending in with the deluge coming down around him. It didn’t matter. All this water would disappear tomorrow and everything would look the same as before it had started. It was temporary. He sat back down. He didn’t have anywhere to go. He thought maybe that wasn’t right, and yet it was and had been for a while. A shiver ran through him. The numbness he felt was from cold, he realized. It shouldn’t have taken him so long to figure out the connection. He hadn’t been able to get warm since they’d got back.

No one else had seemed affected by the pervasive cold on P3X 666, but he had noticed it instantly. He was still noticing it, it seemed. Except that also wasn’t right. He was on Earth, wearing a terrible black suit and sitting in the rain. Daniel looked down once more. Even in the dimness of night, he could see his hands were dull purple. They looked malformed and ugly against the waterlogged sheen of his pants. He rubbed them down the front of his legs, got no warmth from the slight friction. He squeezed his hands into fists and finally felt something. His fingers throbbed a strange beat.

The rain slowed to mist, tiny pinpricks. Daniel unfurled his fists. His fingers throbbed even more once blood began pumping back into them. He resented them for feeling. It didn’t seem right that things so useless should even be able to do so. He supposed, though, at least that feeling was discomfort. He might deserve pain for his own part in all that had happened. He’d told Wells it wasn’t anyone’s fault, and that things just happen sometimes. He believed that. He also believed in could haves and should haves.

He closed his eyes again and saw hers. Hers were the kind that drew a person in, whether filled with a mischievous glint, tears of concern, steeped with capable intelligence or wide with dismay. Daniel didn’t realize how much she said without words. These eyes he saw now were voids, horrifying and blank and he couldn’t stop seeing them. Open or shut, his eyes betrayed. He avoided people, because at any moment, Janet’s dead eyes might transpose over whomever happened to be around him. It was a curse or it was punishment, penance in either case.

Daniel sought the solitude of dark while on base, but had known that couldn’t be done forever. Not there, anyway. He was still hiding in shadows and in the cold. Janet’s yes…the haunting of them…bore into him, holding him in place. Heavy and swollen droplets of water shook loose from his hair and fell onto his shoulders, feeling more solid than liquid. He was pinned in place by such vast weight.

The dull brown of the streetlight’s rays against his eyelids flickered and then disappeared. He opened his eyes and clambered to his feet. He saw he had been sitting on the ground. He should leave this place, and go home. He looked around, realizing he didn’t even really recall how he’d gotten here, but now knew where he was. He had always recognized it, he thought, on some level. It made horrible sense.

“You’ve been out here for a long time, Daniel.”

Had he? He probably had. He probably hadn’t really known why he came here and that was why he was soaked clean through. He probably had some reason for sitting on the cold curb outside of Janet’s house. There were no lights on in it, he noticed. Each window was an enormous dark eye.

“I know,” he said. His voice was strange. He couldn’t figure out where she had come from. “But I don’t know why.”

“I could guess,” Cassie said. “Maybe the same reason I’m freezing my ass off out here instead of being in…there.”

The house kept staring at him, and even it was taken over by the ghost of Janet’s eyes. He wondered if Janet had family Cassie should be with. He should know whether or not Janet had family. That he didn’t was just another strike against him, proving how lopsided their friendship really was. Had been. If nothing else, he could blame himself for that. Daniel looked at Cassie. Her hair was matted and wet, bedraggled. She stared at him, arms wrapped crossed over her chest, and for the first time in a great number of hours, Janet’s dead eyes weren’t the worst things he had ever seen in his life. His own misery became secondary.

“Are you okay?”

Death always seemed surrounded by inadequacies. Words were hollow. Oddly proffered baked goods equaled tokens of unease. Eye contact was scarce and fleeting, which didn’t really matter much to him in this instance. After so many thousands of years dealing with death, it seemed to Daniel that humanity should be better equipped by now. At the same time, he thought being better equipped for tragedy would just make people harder beings. He didn’t know which state of being was worse.

“I mean…”

Touch, it seemed, was still touch. Daniel knew now why he had not allowed it prior to this. Cassie’s arms wrapped tightly around him, and the embrace was pain, heartache. Sorrow. His muscles quivered. He felt Cassie shaking as well. He put his arms around her and they stood in the cold and mist and dark. He heard her snuffle once softly, as if she didn’t want him to hear it. He moved one hand up, cupping the back of her head. She was a tough person; she would be all right in time. Right now, though, she was a little girl who had just lost a mother for the second time in her short life.

“I thought you would be with family,” he said into Cassie’s wet hair.

“They don’t…” She hugged him more firmly. “They can’t understand.”

He supposed that was true. Cassie shivered again. The warmth they shared was not enough. Daniel wondered if they would ever feel warm again. He wanted to rub the ache away for her, soothe her somehow, but there truly was no way to accomplish that. So Daniel held her and Cassie held him. For the moment, it would have to do. It was the closest thing to comfort Daniel had felt, and he hoped Cassie found some relief, too.

“Besides,” Cassie said after a moment, “You’re as much family as they are. More, even.”

That broke his heart. There was suddenly wetness on his face that had nothing to do with rain or mist, and it was hot against his icy cheeks. It stung, cutting tracks into what was left of his already flayed skin. Cassie’s words had released tears held long at bay, and like everything up until this point, they hurt as much as they healed, a terrible and necessary symbiosis. The tears came down as the rain had, like glass—delicate, beautiful and brutal.

“Am I?”

“All of you are.”

Family. The tears slid down his cheeks, and they mingled into Cassie’s hair. Daniel became aware of her whispering to him. He didn’t need to know what words she was employing to understand she was telling him he would be okay. It was a strange reversal of roles, though not entirely so. The tears dried on his face, undoubtedly leaving salty outlines, as he stopped silently crying at long last. He felt weak, tired.

“You should go inside,” Daniel said. He sniffed, nose running. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t want to,” Cassie said. “Everything in there reminds me of her.”

The house stared at him, at them. He nodded. He couldn’t blame Cassie for not wanting to be in there, surrounded by memory. Daniel broke the hug at last, stepping back. He kept his hands on her arms, afraid if he let go he would fall over, or worse—that she might. Cassie had a streak of dark makeup smudging across her face. He reached up and brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. The smudge muted somewhat but didn’t rub away.

“Of course it does, of course. I could take you to Sam’s house, but I don’t think I drove here.”

“I don’t think you did, either, and I don’t want to go to Sam’s. I have a car. Let me take you home.”

He nodded, following her to the car, Janet’s car, that sat in the driveway. It was Cassie’s car now. She unlocked it, the taillights flashing demonically red for several blinks. As she climbed behind the wheel, he slid into the passenger seat. Daniel wondered if she should really drive, but there seemed little other choice. He wasn’t sure he could himself, if it came to that. He tipped his head against the rest, closing his eyes for a moment. The car was cool, and in the enclosed space he could smell damp wool and hair. Cassie sneezed and started the engine. He opened his eyes, looking over at her. She seemed…determined, but out of her element. She glanced his way, her eyes reflecting green and white from the dashboard lights.

“You were with her,” she said, “Weren’t you?”

“Yes. I was.”

“I knew it.” Cassie smiled at him, lopsided and without feeling. He shivered, the muscles of his lower back locked in a slight spasm. His nose tingled, and gooseflesh broke out on the left side of his body. “I saw it in your eyes.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he couldn’t seem to speak at all. Cassie reached over and nudged the heat up a little, then shifted the car into gear. Soon the silence was eaten up by the thrum of tires against the street. Daniel lifted a hand up and put it in front of the vent. The warm air gusted across his fingertips, making them throb again.

He didn’t notice they had stopped until Cassie put a hand on his forearm.

Daniel got out of the car, and so did Cassie. When she followed him up the sidewalk and into the house, he figured out her intention was to stay with him. He didn’t have a problem with that, though he wondered why she would want to stay here instead of with Sam. If she wanted him to know, she would say something. He walked into the kitchen and filled the teakettle. The heat from a fresh cup would do both of them good. He could hear Cassie wandering around the house.

“You have messages,” she said.

He didn’t respond. He had been meaning to call the phone company to add voice mail to his service, but since he didn’t get that many phone calls to his home number it always seemed like a waste of money. He wished he had followed through on that. Cassie apparently pressed the play button. Daniel heard Sam’s voice, though it was muffled beyond intelligibility. It didn’t matter. He could guess what she was saying. The voice was cut off by a short beep, only to be followed by another message. It was Teal’c this time, sounding uncomfortable and even more formal than usual. Two final beeps rang. Either that was the last call or Cassie had stopped the machine.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Daniel turned to her as she entered the kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The teakettle started to sing. Daniel switched the burner off and removed the kettle from heat. He remembered that he was out of tea. He glanced at Cassie with a shrug. Her lips were a still blue from the chill rain. Heading for the door, Daniel touched her briefly on the arm as he passed by. “Let me see if I have anything you can change into.”

“Daniel?” Cassie said. He stopped. “Why were you alone? Before.”

“I don’t…I didn’t know how else to be,” Daniel said. He tapped the doorframe with his left hand and ran a finger down, letting his hand fall to his side. Cassie frowned, and he figured she wasn’t happy with his answer. He didn’t know what else to tell her. “I’ll get the bed set up. You can sleep there tonight, I’ll take the sofa.”

He walked to the bedroom, feeling strange to be doing normal things so easily in an abnormal situation. He pulled a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt out of his dresser. Daniel didn’t know if his clothes would fit Cassie. The shirt would be huge. Fit or no fit, it was dry and warm. His jacket felt cumbersome with water. He set Cassie’s clothes on the bed and took off the suit coat. Though it had been heavy, it had kept more heat in than he had realized. Cold air hit him through the thin dress shirt. He didn’t feel like putting the soggy jacket back on. He tossed it toward the closet, heard it land on the floor with a plop. Part of him wanted to go over and hang it up.

He left the saturated lump of fabric there, scooping Cassie’s clothes from the bed. Daniel walked back down toward the kitchen. Cassie stood in the middle of the room, turned away from the door. She tilted her head back, and he heard her neck pop several times. He winced.

“Here you go.” He said it softly, but Cassie twirled around so fast Daniel knew he had startled her. “Maybe you want to take a shower? Chase the chill away.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”

“Down the hall and to the right.”

She walked over to him and collected the clothes. Their eyes met. Daniel realized these normal things they were doing weren’t ordinary at all. They wouldn’t be until he could look at her and not see the hollow pain, not see Janet in Cassie’s eyes, different from the apparitions he experienced previously. Worse, a million times so. Cassie broke eye contact and went into the bathroom. The screech of the bathroom faucet sounded seconds before the steady beat of water shattering on porcelain. It sounded like a rainstorm, and for a brief moment Daniel worried that the shower would hurt Cassie, leave gashes on her skin. Then he scrubbed the irrational thought away.

Pinching the bridge of his nose as he moved, Daniel went back into the bedroom. He tore off the sheets and tossed them on top of the wet jacket. Before he made the bed back up with fresh sheets, he took off his own clothes. He let them lie in piles. He tugged on a sweatshirt and track pants. The difference in clothing warmed him physically. He made the bed quickly, tripping over his trousers several times. He kicked them out of the way. He didn’t think he would wear that suit again. He didn’t want to have to.

The phone started ringing while he had a pillow tucked under his chin. He moved sideways toward the bedside table. Reaching a hand out, he had the intent to answer it until his fingers contacted the receiver. Daniel returned his focus to the pillowcase, tugging it on and then tossing the pillow on the bed. The phone cut off, and he heard the machine in the entryway pick up. Sam’s voice, concerned and congested, carried back toward the bedroom.

Daniel sat on the bed. He reached for the phone again, and again let his hand fall. He heard bits of what Sam said, and felt removed from it. Detached, like he had been for days. She asked about Cassie. Daniel frowned. The shower turned off with a shudder of pipes just as Sam stopped talking. He heard Cassie moving around in the bathroom, murmuring to herself. He stood up and journeyed into the small living room. The sofa wasn’t very comfortable, even to sit in, but he sat anyway.

The bathroom door opened, and Daniel heard Cassie padding down the hall. He looked down at his own feet. His toes were bare and bluish. He curled them under slightly. It didn’t help warm them. Cassie scooted around him and plopped down on the far end of the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her. He glanced over to her. The sweatshirt was as huge as he thought it would be, and its massiveness made her appear very small.

“I’m not really tired now,” she said. “But I’m much warmer.”

“That’s good.”

“Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“Was Mo…did she…?” Cassie’s expression turned to horrification, and her eyes welled up again. “No, I don’t want to know. I don’t know why I thought I did.”

Daniel swallowed. He slid over until he was right next to her. Cassie toppled toward him, resting a cheek on his shoulder. He put his arm around her.

“When you’re ready,” he said.

“When you’re ready, too.”

It would be a while, for both of them, Daniel thought. He stared at his hand on Cassie’s shoulder and then at the one still on his leg. Cassie reached out and took the hand from his lap, wrapping his fingers around hers. His hands might not be so useless after all.

“Were you supposed to stay with Sam?”

“I was going to.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Cassie shifted slightly, lifting her head up. She squeezed his hand.

“I thought you needed me more,” she said. His stomach clenched, and Daniel was afraid he might start crying again. “I should probably call her back.”

Neither of them moved. Outside, the mist turned back to rain.

The End

Confusion of Truth
by Carrie

Though he knew flight to be cowardly, Teal’c ran. There was no other option. He had tried on numerous occasions to reach his enemy’s armory; to obtain access to weaponry that would aid him in killing as many of them as he could before forcing them to kill him. All attempts had failed and Teal’c felt himself begrudgingly impressed with the inferior species’ unexpected cunning. So now he ran for the Stargate. If he could not immediately avenge his master with blood of the Tau’ri scum, Teal’c would retreat and rejoin Apophis. Together, they would wreak horrors upon Tau’ri and Tok’ra alike.

The corridors of the SGC were almost bare, confirmation in Teal’c's mind of the weakness of his foes. Those in his way were easily dispatched with swipes of his arms. The weaklings landed on the floor behind him with satisfying force. Teal’c found amusement in the human obstacle course he was creating for his pursuers. They would not capture him. By the time the fools reached him, his safe passage would be guaranteed.

Teal’c took the stairs three at a time, barreling into the control room like a tornado. The pitiful technicians all gawked stupidly at him, mouths agape. He launched himself toward a familiar, gray-haired and spectacled man sitting at the control keyboard. Before the man could react, Teal’c wrapped an arm around his neck. He held his mouth close to the left ear.

“You will input the coordinates for Delmak,” Teal’c ordered, keeping an eye on the other occupants of the room and the staircase behind him.

Satisfied the Tau’ri daring to call themselves his allies were not yet approaching, Teal’c turned back and watched the shaky hands click the chevrons. Soon he would be where he longed. Away from these distasteful creatures. He could tolerate such close proximity with them no longer and wished only direct service to his master. The chevrons began to lock on the Stargate and Teal’c forced his prisoner to his feet. He snaked his other arm around the man’s waist and steered him down the stairs leading to the embarkation room. The cowardly technicians in the control room made no move to prohibit him.

As he entered the ‘gateroom, Teal’c switched his hold, shifting so his hand gripped the Tau’ri’s slender neck. His prisoner let out a pathetic mewl and Teal’c fought the urge to snap the neck his hand held. SFs stood with weapons poised, ready to fire upon him. They would not so long as he kept his prisoner in front of him. Teal’c maneuvered his way to the foot of the ramp.

“If you fire upon me, this man will die,” Teal’c proclaimed to reinforce the threat.

The man whimpered again and Teal’c reveled in the power; he had so missed the feeling of domination he had had to repress for five long years. The sparkle of the event horizon beckoned him. He was only steps away from returning to his rightful place at Apophis’ side. With the knowledge he had gained here, victory over the Tau’ri and Tok’ra would be swift and sweet. Before he could even step onto the ramp, however, the iris closed. Rage coursed through his veins. He was a fool! How had he forgotten?

An enraged glare to the control room revealed Major Carter’s panicked face. That woman. As though his time on the first world had not been revolting enough, to have to serve side by side with a woman had been torture. How he longed to rid the world of her existence. Foul creature. Tainted by the Tok’ra. Both her and her father. Teal’c swore he would one day see her crumple in death.

“Teal’c! Let him go!” an angry shout called from his left. “You’re not going anywhere.”

O’Neill. Teal’c spat the offensive name in his mind. The fool he had duped into trusting him still clung to the misguided beliefs of his nobility and loyalty to the Tau’ri. O’Neill, too, would die begging for mercy. To think he had had to claim himself the friend of such a buffoon when all he had really wanted was to crush O’Neill’s skull. The colonel had a zatnikatel trained on him. Coward, afraid to kill him.

“You will open the iris now,” Teal’c boomed. “Or I will snap the neck of this insignificant one.”

“No you won’t, Teal’c,” Daniel Jackson’s voice joined from the right.

Teal’c swung his body so it was centered between both threats. Daniel Jackson also had a zatnikatel. Teal’c scoffed. The puny scholar probably could not operate it properly. Every moment he had spent with the inept archaeologist had been a constant reminder of the reason his god had undergone suffering. Were it not for Daniel Jackson, the Stargate would never have been opened.

Teal’c knew he had failed yet again and blind anger resurged. He clenched his fist around the throat his hand held, eliciting a squeak from his prisoner. He could feel the muscles spasm beneath his fingers as the man struggled to breathe. A telltale click and whine from his left told him O’Neill was about to fire upon him.

With lightning speed, Teal’c unwound his arm from the man’s waist and punched the hapless technician fiercely in the back. He relaxed his grip on the neck and threw the sagging, gasping body toward O’Neill. In the same motion, he spun toward Daniel Jackson.

The scholar would die now.

Daniel’s hand shook with fear and concern. He kept reminding himself that it wasn’t Teal’c standing before him. Wasn’t Teal’c holding Sergeant Davis like he was a rag doll. Desperately, Daniel tried to replace Teal’c's face with someone he knew to be evil. Apophis. For all intents and purposes, it was Apophis standing before him, he realized. Even after death, the Goa’uld had the power to attack. Daniel shook his head. Straying thoughts wouldn’t help here. He shot a look across the ‘gateroom to Jack.

In the space of a few seconds, the world got even crazier. Now Teal’c wasn’t relatively passively holding a member of the SGC hostage as a means to return to his ‘god’, he was brutally shoving Sergeant Davis at Jack. Daniel gaped as Jack fumbled to catch the smaller man, at the same time directing a shout to him.

“Shoot, Daniel!”

Shoot? Daniel was momentarily confused, but regained his composure almost immediately. Teal’c was lunging right at him, face a horrible mask of hate. He pivoted, snapping his zat up decidedly. Arming the weapon, he shot as Teal’c drew so close Daniel could see the rage burning from the Jaffa’s eyes. Teal’c was enveloped in blue electricity and fell to his knees, eyes still tearing right through Daniel. Shit. Amazingly, his friend…no, not his friend…didn’t fall. Teal’c remained on his knees and was moving forward again. Daniel froze. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Teal’c should have been knocked senseless. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t fire the zat—it was too soon after the previous discharge.

Pinned by the hate, Daniel stared helplessly as Teal’c invaded his space. The Jaffa climbed shakily to his feet and made for him again. Instinct kicked in. Daniel tried to dodge the assault, succeeding only for a short time. Teal’c quickly compensated and delivered a powerful blow to his abdomen, following it up with a punch to his ribcage. Daniel gasped as pain rocked through him, fighting to keep from heaving up the meager contents of his stomach. He fell to his knees, but had the presence of mind to lift his arms in defense.

Daniel heard muffled, but insistent shouting and multiple sets of running feet. Teal’c loomed above him, occupying his entire range of vision. Spun above him, to be more accurate. Then the big man was just gone. Lowing his arms and wrapping them around his abused midsection, Daniel peered around. Teal’c was being restrained by four SFs, veins popping out of his neck. Daniel caught the Jaffa’s eyes one last time before Teal’c was dragged from the ‘gateroom, cursing in Goa’uld. They held venom and the promise of more pain. Daniel shuddered.

And jumped when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He let a startled yelp cross his lips, face turning red when he saw Jack crouching next to him. Daniel briefly looked away from the knowing expression. Jack didn’t say anything for long seconds, just sat there with his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

“You all right?” Jack finally broke the silence.

“Yeah. Feel a bit stupid, actually. It’s not like this is the first time Teal’c's attacked one of us,” he breathlessly muttered.

“First time he got close enough to do physical harm. C’mon, let’s go see the doc,” Jack suggested, holding up a finger when Daniel showed signs of protest. “Just to make sure. I know hard Teal’c hits, Daniel.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go to the infirm…” Daniel faltered and turned horrified eyes to Jack.

“What? What, Daniel? Are you really hurt? Where?” Jack worriedly fussed, misinterpreting Daniel’s actions. The older man started patting him down with rapid hands.

“Sir, is everything all right? Daniel?” Sam called, running into the ‘gateroom with a tense expression.

Daniel watched her approach and opened his mouth to let them know he was fine, but before he could, Jack answered her.

“I don’t know, Carter. I think Teal’c may have done some damage,” the older man tersely replied.

“Oh, God. Daniel, let me see,” Sam’s hands took over where Jack left off.

“Stop! I’m FINE!” Daniel abruptly shouted, causing both Jack and Sam to freeze. He softened his tone and continued, “Really. I’m good. I was just going to ask if Sergeant Davis was okay.”

Sheepish looks set upon both of their faces. Daniel put out a hand and Jack pulled him easily to his feet. No doubt about it, his ribs were going to ache for days. The physical pain was nothing, though, compared to the yawning hole in his heart. Teal’c was showing no signs of returning to his normal self. They’d been back for a week already. Daniel was starting to think the ‘normal’ Teal’c truly had been an act. That this version was truth.

He shot Jack and Sam assessing glances. Both were haggard and pale, worry shaping their features making them almost unrecognizable. Daniel was certain he looked exactly the same. This was the hardest battle they had ever fought and even if it wasn’t a physical battle, its effects were. Daniel could only hope it would get easier. He wasn’t sure what would happen if they lost Teal’c. The balance of the team would be absent and he didn’t think they’d ever get it back.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary and we’ll find out about him,” Jack murmured, guiding him both out of his reverie and out of the ‘gateroom with a not quite steady hand on his back.

Sam took up position on his other side and together they left for the infirmary. Daniel struggled to keep the hopelessness at bay. He wasn’t sure how long he could withstand Teal’c's relentless emotional assaults. With the heightened concern for physical safety, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to face whatever would be thrown at them next.

The walls were gray.

Of course, they always had been, but Sam had never noticed how utterly dismal the corridors of the SGC were. There was always something brighter and more important on which to focus her attention. But as she and the colonel escorted Daniel down to the infirmary, she could honestly say there was nothing riveting in the air. Only the depressing, toneless gray of the walls seeped into her.

Her dad had left after only two days, Selmac emerging to inform them the Tok’ra High Council expected a report on what had transpired. Sam was certain both Selmac and her father’s real reason for leaving was that there was nothing for them to offer as a means to get Teal’c's mind back. From wherever it had gone.

She knew her dad and the Tok’ra could do nothing. She’d accessed Jolinar’s memories; scoured them for anything of use and had come up completely empty. They were running out of choices. General Hammond wouldn’t be able to keep using whatever resources he could get his hands on indefinitely.

Daniel stumbled a bit next to her and she automatically put out her hand, giving him another once over at the same time. The archaeologist looked as if he had lost about ten pounds in the past week. Stress did that to some people—made them appear gaunt and exhausted all the time. She smiled as Daniel eased out of her grip with a rueful, tired smile. No amount of coffee could keep him awake; no amount of Fraiser-threatened sedatives would keep him asleep. None of them, actually. It wasn’t fair to put Daniel in the bone weary, stressed out, worried sick category all by himself.

Sam looked at the colonel. Subtract ten… or fifteen… years from him or add them to Daniel and the men could be twins. She knew how hard this must all be for her CO. Teal’c was a good friend. No, more than that. The colonel had told her about how Teal’c called him brother when they were stranded in the death glider in the cold of space. If Teal’c had professed that deep a bond with the colonel, Sam was certain he had meant it. And she knew how much the words had meant to Colonel O’Neill.

The trio entered the infirmary at last, and Sam immediately saw Janet tending a frazzled Sergeant Davis. That poor man. She shivered with sympathy, selfishly thankful she could only imagine what it was like to be at the mercy of the Teal’c she feared would be permanent. A Teal’c ruled by the evil of Apophis.

Janet frowned at them and crossed the room, leaving Davis with a pat on his shoulder. The petite doctor kept her eyes focused on Sam, narrowing as she got closer to them. Sam knew that look. That was the infamous ‘you look like hell, you’d better either fix it on your own or expect not so divine intervention’ face. Sam sighed. She’d seen her reflection in the mirror and knew she could easily fit into the colonel and Daniel’s odd family resemblance. Tired, heart sore little sister to the exhausted, depressed twins.

“Hey, Janet,” Sam greeted her friend before the lecture began, spitting the words out in a breathless stream. “Things got a little rough again. Teal’c got to Daniel and how’s Sergeant Davis?”

“He’s going to be just fine. Doctor Jackson, if you’ll come with me?” Janet got down to business, her eyes telling Sam she wouldn’t forget to bring up the unspoken warning at a later time.

Dragging his feet, Daniel shuffled after Janet. She and the colonel stood rooted to their spots for a couple of seconds. Sam hoped Davis was all right, but didn’t really know what to say to him. ‘Uh, sorry our friend pounded on you. Hope you’ll get better soon!’? Peering up at the colonel, Sam saw the same conflict flitting across his face. His expression was exactly the same as when he had visited Sergeant Siler after he’d sent the engineer toppling down the staircase while wearing that Atenik armband. Sam had to chuckle at that memory.

The colonel glared at her, squashing the brief moment of levity. Sam squared her shoulders and started walking to the wounded technician, still completely at a loss on how to offer sympathy. The colonel took care of that for her.

“Hey, Davis. How are you feeling?” he asked, using that gentle tone which always pleasantly surprised her.

“I’m fine, sir,” the sergeant muttered, sounding more than a little disgruntled.

“We wanted to apologize for what happened. We should have anticipated Teal’c would try to escape,” she tried to soothe.

Davis twitched once, then stuttered, “I…it’s okay, ma’am. I…know he’s not himself.”

Fidgeting next to her, the colonel gruffly patted Davis’ shoulder. “Regardless, we feel bad. Teal’c will, too, once we get him back.”

Again, the sergeant didn’t look comforted. His words gave proof, sounding downright skeptical, “R-right.”

The group paused uncomfortably and Sam fought to keep from dashing away from the injured man. She actually started scoping out the infirmary for the quickest escape route when the colonel rather abruptly and lamely burst, “Well. Just thought we’d check in on you. You rest up and…ah…get better.”

Sergeant Davis gave a half nod as she and the colonel walked away. Sam’s mind had begun replaying the events in the ‘gateroom over and over, fiercely longing to see some indication of Teal’c in the stranger now among them. Nothing. Teal’c could have been any of the countless Jaffa they’d encountered—warriors of false gods. His face had looked almost demonic with the blue sparkle of the event horizon…

Daniel’s voice rang over to them the same instant Sam turned to the colonel with dread. Their words jumbled together.

“Sir, I think we have a problem.”

“Jack! We may have a problem.”

Conscious of the discomfort of her patient, Janet probed the already bruising ribcage with extra caution. She frowned at Daniel’s appearance, worried he wasn’t getting enough sleep. The archaeologist’s eyebrows were knit and his attention was focused on Sam and Colonel O’Neill across the room. Fingers maintaining their gentle examination, Janet surreptitiously followed his gaze and frowned even more deeply at the instant reminder that Daniel wasn’t the only one looking a little rough around the edges.

A sudden flinch from Daniel startled Janet back to him and she realized that in her distraction, she had begun poking a little too aggressively on his tender ribs. Embarrassed, she looked up to apologize and saw his gaze was fully on her now, and it wasn’t one of pain. In fact, Janet was pretty sure his face was mirroring her own clinical assessment of him and his teammates.

“How are you doing, Doctor Fraiser?” the archaeologist inquired, jerking when her hands tensed mid-probe.

“Sorry. I’m fine, Daniel,” Janet tried to brush off.

“Right. Fine as in the over-stressed, over-worried, over-tired kind of way?” Daniel rebutted with a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Funny, I was just going to say the same thing to you. And Sam. And Colonel O’Neill,” Janet halfheartedly teased.

“Well, that would be a little like the pot calling the kettle, wouldn’t it? Seriously, though. Teal’c's your friend as well as ours. This hasn’t exactly been easy for any of us,” Daniel continued, eyes searching her face with concern.

Janet sobered at his inquiry and was a little surprised. She regarded Daniel a friend, but they had really had any in depth conversations. Had it been Sam asking about her welfare, Janet wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Daniel asking threw her off balance, but she found his concern welcome. And took it for the wake-up call it was. She had been putting in extra hours, researching all possible methods and drugs they could use to reverse what had happened to Teal’c. She was running herself ragged and getting nothing for it. Though she hadn’t had to deal with the verbal and emotional abuse Teal’c was doling out, Janet could honestly say she had almost hit the wall. SG1 had to be even closer, if they hadn’t already smacked into it.

“You’re right. I am tired, but I’m not ready to give up quite yet. There as to be a way to get through to him,” Janet confessed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her right thumb and forefinger.

“I wish I could have as much confidence,” Daniel wearily sighed. “I mean, what else can we do?”

Shocked at the resignation in Daniel’s tone, Janet looked at him sharply. His concern for her had diminished into defeat. It was not a pleasant look for him, and she found her own resolve building as a result. No way would she let him, or Sam or Colonel O’Neill get away with giving up.

“We will get through to him, Daniel,” Janet vowed. “It won’t be pretty, but it will happen.”

Janet hoped she was telling him the truth. There were so methods she’d heard of that she couldn’t condone as a physician and hoped they wouldn’t resort to using them. She’d have to draw the line for her profession, though she didn’t kid herself that it would be easy.

“You haven’t been there. You haven’t seen—” Daniel began.

“Ah! I haven’t seen? True. But I have seen what it’s been doing to you,” Janet interrupted him, pursing her lips with irritation. She placed her left hand on Daniel’s bruised ribs. “Physically as well as mentally. It may not be happening to me directly, but what happens to my patients…my friends…affects me nonetheless.”

Daniel blinked at her vehement response and nodded once. He reverted his gaze to Sam, the colonel and Sergeant Davis, worry lining his forehead. “Is Sergeant Davis going to be all right?”

As much as Janet had welcomed his concern, she was just as glad to change the topic slightly. She answered, “Well, like you, his injuries are superficial. He’s going to be sore for a number of days, but he’s fine. In fact, I was just about to go release him.”

“I keep seeing Teal’c standing there, holding him like a piece of meat. Thank goodness we have the iris or…” Daniel trailed off, his expression taking on a glazed, deep in thought look.

“Daniel? What is it?” Janet hastily asked, drawing closer to the suddenly mute archaeologist’s side. She lay a hand on his forearm to bring his attention to her. He looked ready to vomit. “Daniel?”

“The ‘gate. I have to tell the others,” Daniel muttered in a shaky voice.

With that, he slid off the bed and walked quickly to the other side of the infirmary. Sam and the colonel were already on their way back over. Janet shook her head in puzzlement and headed over to join them. Whatever was going on with Daniel, she was certain she wasn’t going to like it.

“Whoa! Slow down, one at a time,” Jack waved his arms in the air as Carter and Daniel’s words bombarded him from both sides. “Carter?”

“Sir, the ‘gate. The coordinates Teal’c put in were for Delmak,” Carter tersely told him.

Jack rotated his gaze between Carter and Daniel, trying to discern what had got them both so upset. Actually, when he looked closely at them, he realized they looked like hell. An added air of panic put them right over the edge, to where he’d have to mandate sleep. Their hair was mussed…well, Daniel’s more mussed than usual…and their eyes were shadowed by haunted, purple bruises. Jack caught a glimpse of the already colorful decorations Daniel was now sporting on his torso as the younger man pulled on his T-shirt with a grimace.

Shooting a helpless look at the doc, Jack just wasn’t getting what Carter’s statement was insinuating. Fraiser shrugged her shoulders and stared at Daniel, obviously trying to get a line as well. The petite woman also was a little worse for wear. Carter had told him the doctor hadn’t even been going home at night, trusting Cassandra to be responsible while she pulled extra shifts. That, to Jack, said she was just as concerned about this whole mess as the rest of them, as if the puffy eyes and funky hairstyle didn’t do it on their own.

Daniel apparently caught their confusion and thankfully explained further, “Delmak, Jack. Apophis’ world. And the ‘gate engaged, meaning it survived the explosion. So…”

He finally clued in. The realization almost literally slapped him across the face. “What?! You think Apophis is still alive? No way.”

“It is possible, sir. We’ve thought him dead before,” Carter reluctantly confirmed.

Head reeling, Jack grabbed it with both hands as if he could stop the onslaught of dizzying denial spinning through him. This was the last thing he needed to think about. Dealing with a psychotic and fanatical Teal’c was enough for a person to handle. Now the possibility of the guy one of his good friends was suddenly professing complete, mindless devotion to was out there alive when he should have been dead years ago was enough for Jack to crack completely.

“Shit. He’d better be dead,” he growled. “Is there any way to kill that bastard? Or any way to confirm his death this time?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we don’t want to send any teams to Delmak to find out. Even if the ‘gate works, it doesn’t mean it’s safe,” Daniel thought out loud with a quick eyebrow quirk. “I’d guess the Tok’ra have probably considered this. We should contact them to find out for certain.”

“I wonder why Dad didn’t say anything,” Carter mused.

“Sam, he’d been with you guys. I’m sure that’s part of the reason he had to get back. Without a ‘gate on the new Tok’ra base, we really have no way of finding out anything from them. I’m sure they’ll let us know once they find out for sure that Apophis is dead,” Doctor Fraiser delivered, a voice of reason. “Besides, from what you reported, I don’t see how he could have lived.”

Crap. He was so tired, he hadn’t even remembered the Tok’ra were more isolated than ever now. Neither had Daniel or Carter, a fact which disturbed him on multiple levels. Clearly, none of them were firing with all cylinders. The doc’s reassurances weren’t reassuring him at all, though. Goddamnit. Apophis had already miraculously lived through a similar explosion. The Goa’uld just didn’t know how to stay dead.

“Right. I’m sticking with him being a crispy critter,” Jack muttered. It wasn’t something on which they should expend vast amounts of energy. Regardless of Apophis’ state of being, they still had to deal with their friend. “Doesn’t matter. We can’t do anything about it, either way. What we should not do is tell Teal’c his wonderful lord and master might still be alive and kicking.”

“The chances of that are slim anyway. Daniel’s right. Just because the ‘gate on Delmak made it through the blast doesn’t automatically mean Apophis did. We don’t really know where the Stargate was in proximity to the crash site. And the ‘gate on Thor’s ship didn’t get destroyed when we blew it up, proving the ‘gates themselves are quite difficult to get rid of,” Carter rambled.

Only half listening, Jack studied his second in command’s face. She was exhausted, emotionally, mentally and physically. Even as she was spouting off her thoughts, Jack noted the lack of spark. Something vital was missing from her countenance and he was certain it wouldn’t be regained unless they were able to bring Teal’c back from the dark side. She didn’t need to think about Apophis any more than he.

“Carter, I said let’s not dwell on it, okay?” Jack sharply rebuked. He was so tired.

Carter’s mouth snapped shut and Jack cringed, regretting his harsh tone. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. Stroking his temples with his left hand, he groaned inwardly. So tired. They all just needed rest, but he knew any attempt would be futile. His body had been begging him for days to take it easy. His mind, however, stubbornly refused to allow it.

“Sorry, Carter. I just don’t think any of us need to add another thing to our worry list,” Jack softly apologized, removing his hand to look her in the eye.

The hurt expression dwindled to one of understanding. Carter flashed him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It just made Jack wince more. He turned away, to Daniel. The archaeologist’s eyes were narrowed in thought, his face turned slightly away from all of them. The younger man was in a classic defensive stance, left arm wrapped tightly around his chest, right one propped on it and his fingers were rubbing his lower lip. Jack frowned more deeply.

“Daniel? Did you hear what I just said?” Jack called, satisfied to see the younger man jerk at his name.

“Jack, don’t worry. I was just thinking about Teal’c,” Daniel sighed. “Nothing seems to be working.”

Daniel’s tone was resigned, as if he’d already given up. Doctor Fraiser was pensively studying the archaeologist, and if Jack knew her, she was assessing his body language just as thoroughly as Jack. Slouched shoulders and wan face suggested defeat as well. Though Jack understood his friend’s depression, he knew had to be the one to persist. To demand both Daniel and Carter not quit. He just hoped he could do it.

“We keep at it. Wear him down until he sees the truth. The real truth,” Jack fiercely replied, pleased his tone sounded authoritative. “Show him we’re not going to cave.”

“But not until you’ve all had some sleep,” Doctor Fraiser ordered. “Or at least some rest. You’re not doing yourselves or Teal’c any good by running into the ground.”

She was right. They’d go to Hammond…where was the general anyway? Jack couldn’t help but wonder. His commanding officer hadn’t been seen all day. For the past week, the older man had been right there with them, bearing almost as many insults from Teal’c as the rest of SG1. It also wasn’t like the general to be absent when someone was wounded. Especially when the person inflicting the hurt was a member of his premier team. Jack drew his eyebrows together. Something was up. He’d lay money down that it wasn’t anything good.

General George Hammond sat in his office, blinds drawn and door shut, with his hands fisted on top of his desk. He glared at the red phone as if it were to blame for the ultimatum he’d just been given. His day had been occupied by phone calls from the NID, in which he’d turn around and call the President, who’d call the NID, who’d call him back. It all resulted in a tremendous headache and no gain for his side. The President was convinced he should only allow him one additional week with Teal’c before the Jaffa would be placed in prison.

Prison. Huh. Hammond knew Teal’c's fate would not be to rot in some prison cell somewhere. He had no doubt the NID would assert themselves and take Teal’c for experimentation, which they’d threatened to do on and off for the past four and a half years. Either outcome was a death sentence for the strong warrior he had come to respect so highly. He could not allow either to happen.

Today had been the first day he’d not been able to join SG1 in their attempt to deprogram Teal’c. All of them were losing resolve, Hammond could sense it. With each passing day, Major Carter became thinner and paler. Doctor Jackson’s eyes became less blue and more gray. And Colonel O’Neill’s face became tighter, but tighter with exhaustion not determination. The last report he’d got from Doctor Fraiser told him the petite woman was also taxing herself too hard. Damnit, if he wasn’t careful, he’d lose more than Teal’c in this mess.

He’d heard the shouts from the control room and knew Teal’c had finally made for the Stargate, a move Hammond had expected far sooner. For once in his life, Hammond hid. He didn’t want to witness their failure. Couldn’t bring himself to leave his office. Weak. He was a coward, grabbing instead for the phone to place one last call to the President rather than face reality. Now the guilt from his purely selfish reaction was devouring him. It was safe to assume something had happened to SG1, or they would have attempted to speak with him by now.

Hammond heaved a sigh; he was so worn and just wanted the nightmare to be over. The idea of retirement once again popped into his head. Retirement on his own terms sounded damn appealing. Part of what he had used as an excuse when Kinsey had forced him to resign his post a couple of months ago was true. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on seeing good people hurt. Or killed.

But not today. Today, right now, he needed to go to the infirmary and see what had happened. Rising, Hammond moved from behind his desk and headed for the door. Before he reached it, it vibrated with a loud knock. He knew who it was.

“Come,” he brusquely called, shoving his depression down as far as he could bury it.

He returned to stand behind his desk. Sure enough, SG1 trickled into the office, followed closely by Doctor Fraiser. They all looked undamaged. Hammond took the blessing where he could get it. Something had definitely got them more out of sorts, though. Even his chief medical officer was looking abnormally peaked.

“Colonel, what can I do for you?” Hammond asked, as though his presence among them shouldn’t have been missed at all.

“Sir, just thought we should tell you Teal’c broke out again, grabbed Sergeant Davis as a hostage and attempted to retreat through the Stargate,” the colonel rattled off unemotionally. “Daniel, I and a handful of SFs managed to stop him while Carter closed the ‘gate down.”

Hammond nodded. No big surprise. “Was anyone injured?”

“Sergeant Davis sustained bruising to his throat and right kidney. He should make a full recovery, though he’ll be shaken up for a while,” Doctor Fraiser reported, then turned to Doctor Jackson. “Daniel also suffered some bruising to his ribs, but is fine.”

Hammond reviewed the faces of SG1 as the doctor spoke. All three were dead on their feet, and Doctor Jackson had an arm around his chest, the only indication of discomfort. He wanted nothing more than to commiserate with them, but he was the commander of the facility and had to present himself as such. So he simply asked, “Are you okay, Doctor Jackson?”

“I’m fine, General,” the young man mumbled.

“About Teal’c, sir,” the colonel began, appearing as though he didn’t want to think about Doctor Jackson’s injuries.

Hammond halted him by raising a hand. “Yes, about Teal’c. I’m sure you all have wondered the cause for my seclusion today. It seems the NID wants Teal’c locked up. The President ordered that if we couldn’t break through in the next week, Teal’c is to be remanded to prison.”

He balled his hands again into fists as all four of his staff emitted various sounds of protest. He had no doubt each of them knew his announcement had been coming and was strangely heartened to see their faces become animated with disapproval. Painful as the words were, they seem to have sparked his people into action.

“Prison, right!” O’Neill spat, hands unconsciously mimicking his own with clenched fists. The colonel strode up to his desk, knuckles white. “More likely they’ll turn Teal’c into a lab rat.”

“Sir, we can’t let that happen!” Major Carter cried out, worry warping her features.

Doctor Fraiser and Doctor Jackson remained silent, though Hammond could read their distress. They would all do their best to prevent Teal’c's incarceration, but he felt he had to decree an order of his own. The strain they were all under…himself very much included…was unhealthy and might actually detract from success with Teal’c. Some level of rest had to be met before they could try again. With hesitation, Hammond relayed his directive.

“We won’t, Major,” he assured the young woman. “However, I feel it’s in everyone’s best interest to take a break from the…sessions with Teal’c. I want each of you to try and get some sleep. You are not to resume deprogramming him for twelve hours.”

As he suspected would happen, SG1 did not take kindly to the order. Each of them looked at him with blazing eyes, and if he didn’t know them so well he might have felt threatened. Hammond ensured his facial expression left no room for negotiation. He would not budge on this one. At least that’s how it was supposed to go down. The first denial came from a previously silent source.

“General, while I agree we all need rest,” Doctor Jackson admitted before continuing, “I don’t think it would be a good idea to back off. No disrespect intended, sir.”

“I agree with Daniel,” O’Neill quickly supported the archaeologist’s assertion. “If we leave Teal’c alone after he’s just come so close to getting away, I’m afraid we’ll just be feeding his delusions. He’ll think he’s winning and his resolve will just grow….sir.”

Their argument was valid, Hammond mentally acknowledged. Though he really didn’t want to change his ruling, he knew they’d continue to debate. Even if he stuck to his guns, they might even disobey him. Blame either resignation or exhaustion, he just didn’t want to fight.

“Very well. You are to spend a maximum of two hours with him, then I want you all to get some rest,” Hammond conceded easily.

The strain in the room relaxed ever so slightly. With purpose, Major Carter, Doctor Jackson and Doctor Fraiser left the office. Colonel O’Neill lingered and Hammond’s stomach suddenly lurched. The colonel’s expression now read gratification, but there was something else hidden in the brown depths of his eyes.

“Colonel, is there something else?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir, there is. Not that there’s anything we can do about it, but the planet Teal’c attempted to ‘gate to, sir?” O’Neill spoke rapidly, distaste coloring his words. “It was Delmak. There’s a chance Apophis may have survived.”

Terrific. Hammond abruptly sat down, rubbing a weary hand over his bald head. For long seconds, he had no idea what to say or do. When it rains, it pours. He could only hope the deluge would stop before they all drowned. He said nothing, choosing instead to break regulations. He opened his bottom desk drawer and withdrew the Christmas present he’d received from the man standing before him—a bottle of Chivas Regal. Hammond was glad now he’d had the foresight to keep one of the bottles on base.

“Lock the door. Care for a drink?” Hammond invited.

The sound of the door locking resounded through the otherwise silent room. He retrieved two coffee mugs and poured the liquor. It burned down his throat beautifully.

“Daniel, you sure you want to do this?” Jack asked him, a hand pressing on his shoulder.

Of course he didn’t want to do it. None of them did. Jack was simply worried, he knew that, but Daniel cringed at the thought the older man didn’t believe he could handle himself. He stared at the metal door in front of him and closed his eyes tightly, fighting the swelling irritation. Lack of sleep was making him want to snap at everyone and everything.

“No, Jack. I don’t want to do this,” Daniel confessed, unable to contain an exasperated sigh. “But like you said, if I don’t go in there, Teal’c will just think he’s winning. He’s in restraints now and even if he wasn’t I don’t feel any more threatened than I did before. Let’s just do it.”

His head was throbbing, so much so he thought he could see the fluorescent lights flickering brighter with each pulse. The blood seemed to be forcing its way through his veins. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, now accompanied by various aches and pains, Daniel doubted he’d get any rest at all in the next day. Days. He finally looked to Jack, not surprised to see the older man’s face a mask of concern. Teal’c's escape attempt should never have happened. They’d all got careless, accustomed to the Jaffa’s passive behavior. Jack would be blaming himself right about now.

“He should have been in restraints before,” the colonel growled. “Should have thought of that.”

Daniel gave himself a pat on the back. He still found it quite amazing he could read the older man so well. Jack had been unusually quiet since Teal’c's attack and Daniel thought he caught a hint of alcohol tingeing his breath. The general’s too. Not for the first time in his life, he wished he had been invited to that party. He could really use a drink. And he didn’t mean the kind made with beans from Colombia.

“Colonel, you are not responsible for Teal’c. I am,” the general gently reminded Jack. “He was in a locked room, was very…docile, and we had three guards stationed right outside the door. It was my call to remove the restraints.”

Jack looked ready to debate the issue, but read the same thing in the general’s expression as Daniel did. General Hammond’s lips were pursed in a stern line, forehead creased. Even the colonel knew not to mess with him when he had that look on his face. Daniel agreed with the general. They could stand outside the door arguing on who was to blame or acknowledge no one…or everyone…was to blame and move on. Daniel wholeheartedly voted for moving on.

General Hammond motioned for the guards to let them in. Daniel fought back the wince as the plastic key card was swiped and the door clicked open. He sucked in a deep breath and went in to face what was turning out to be his worst nightmare. Well, his worst nightmare since losing Sha’re. At a friend’s hands. Teal’c's. He couldn’t help but wonder why that ammunition hadn’t been used by his not-friend yet. Teal’c had shown only contempt for them, bringing up events from the past five years and twisting them to inflict maximum emotional wounds.

But he hadn’t even hinted at mentioning Sha’re. Daniel admitted he had been too frightened to bring it up himself. Like it would confirm that horrible, niggling thought that persisted in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to rid himself of it. That thought which placed all the rage he felt at Sha’re’s loss on Teal’c's shoulders, when he knew it was Apophis. It was always Apophis.

Jack pushed his way through the door, followed closely by the general and Sam. Daniel hung back for a second, straightening his shoulders to enter. Then Jack and the general moved aside and he could see inside the small, drab room. Teal’c wasn’t sitting there—it was Apophis. Daniel’s heart started pounding even faster and he scrunched his eyes shut as if to ward off the demon. He hesitantly opened them again to find the image of the Goa’uld had vanished to reveal his friend yet again. Daniel shook the illusion from his head and stepped into the room.

Teal’c's face was as inexpressive as usual. He sat upon a metal chair, bound hands in his lap, feet anchored to the legs of the chair. There was no way he was getting out of here again. Daniel wasn’t comforted, finding the manacles were causing his anxiety to actually increase. At least before he could pretend Teal’c was Teal’c. That escape was denied him and he now realized how much he had needed it.

Daniel had to stop wallowing. It wasn’t doing him any good and it certainly didn’t help the others or Teal’c. He sneaked glances at Jack, Sam and General Hammond. They all were still silent, eyeing Teal’c warily. The tension in the room was the highest Daniel could remember since the long week had begun. He slid around to stand next to Sam, bringing him to Teal’c's right side. He just couldn’t take the full-on glare Teal’c was now sporting, face no longer impassive.

“Your presence is useless here,” Teal’c spat, breaking the silence at last.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Jack retorted, though his words held little of the flippancy they normally contained. “But bear with us, will you? We’re just going to go over this stuff one more time.”

“Your attempt at coercion will fail now as it has previously. You are fools,” Teal’c continued as though Jack hadn’t even spoken.

Teal’c was right, Daniel realized. Nothing they had already tried would suddenly break the hold Apophis had gained on their friend. There was only one thing, one last weapon they could use and he knew he had to be the one to unleash it. He took another deep breath.

“Teal’c, I have a question for you,” he began, trying not to jerk when the Jaffa twisted his head and shoulders to stare at him. He faltered and mentally cursed.

“I am surprised you were brave enough to enter this room, Hassak!” Teal’c discharged, flexing his biceps until veins stood out against the taut flesh. “You cowered before like the puppy I know you to be.”

Trying his best to ignore the gibe, Daniel met Teal’c's ferocious glare. He wanted to run far away from the holding cell already and he hadn’t even got to the main gist of his question. Swallowing, Daniel momentarily shifted his gaze to Jack and then back to Teal’c as he continued, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Catching Jack’s surprised smirk out of the corner of his eye, Daniel watched Teal’c clench his jaw tightly and narrow his eyes in appraisal. Dark, fury charged eyes scanned him up and down. He felt alarmingly like a mouse being inspected and played with by a cat before the actual kill. With shock, he thought he recognized more than loathing in Teal’c's eyes, a glimmer of strange admiration darting across them before vanishing into complete hate.

“We all get that a lot,” Sam chimed in, speaking for the first time. “There’s really no need for you to keep repeating it.”

Jack glared at the major, but Daniel shot her a grateful nod. Sam had her face schooled into a careful blank and Daniel could see she was trying very hard not to let Teal’c's harsh words and abnormal mannerisms bother her. He wasn’t sure she was entirely successful in her attempt, her uncertainty shining from her eyes back at him.

“Teal’c, back to my question,” Daniel guided the focus back toward him. “You say you serve Apophis as your god, right? Why would Apophis have you kill his queen Amaunet? That seems a little unlikely to me.”

He held his breath and waited for the callous response he knew was coming.

It was a horrible comparison. Sam shuddered at the image her mind had conjured up—Daniel looked like a convict about to face execution as the holding cell became deadly quiet. She was taken aback at how candidly the archaeologist was able to pose such a loaded question. Had she been the one to have to risk such heartache, she didn’t know if she’d be able to pull it off. Sam thanked her lucky stars it wasn’t on her shoulders.

And instantly wanted to call the thought back. They’d all been through the wringer during the past week, but the relationship between Teal’c and Daniel made it seem worse for the archeologist. Their friendship had always been a tenuous one, filled with turmoil from the very beginning. She had no idea if Teal’c would remember any of this if…when…he finally let go his delusion, but Daniel would. Neither of them needed any more angst in their lives. Her gaze remained on Daniel as they all waited for Teal’c to answer.

“Amaunet had outlived her usefulness for Apophis and had betrayed my god by trying to hide the Harcesis child from him! She deserved to die,” Teal’c fervently retorted.

“Apophis was dead at the time, or so Amaunet thought. She was merely protecting the child from the rest of the System Lords as he would wish,” Daniel immediately fired back, oddly calm. “Since you mentioned Shifu, why is it that he was here within your grasp and you didn’t take that opportunity to deliver him to Apophis? You failed your god, Teal’c.”

Sam jerked as Teal’c roared with anger, pulling her eyes from Daniel to the Jaffa. She could see General Hammond and the colonel lean in closer, preparing to restrain Teal’c if it became necessary. Her friend’s face was an enraged mask.

“Lies! Apophis was not dead then, nor is he now. Gods cannot die,” Teal’c shouted, rising a fraction of an inch from the chair. “Amaunet was using the child for her own gain. Such betrayal is not tolerated! I took great pleasure in dispensing with her life.”

Sam nearly gasped at the brutality with which he spoke. Teal’c was very deliberate, punctuating with precision. She spun back to the archaeologist to see his jaw twitching minutely. He said nothing. She doubted he could speak. The lump in her own throat prevented her participation. The colonel quickly stepped up, giving Daniel a once over. Sam thought she saw regret flash in his eyes and braced herself for the continued line of questioning.

“Amaunet outlived her usefulness after she gave birth. Why didn’t you take the opportunity to kill her on Abydos a year earlier? She was weak, allowing Daniel to take her child. You helped him, for crying out loud!” O’Neill quietly reminded.

Closing her eyes for a brief second only to open them and see Daniel go a shade paler, Sam knew her own face was white. How could he stand this? She felt as though her heart was being ripped straight from her chest and she hadn’t even been on Abydos at the time.

“Apophis did not wish it,” Teal’c smugly muttered.

No. That made no sense. No sense at all. She blinked an apology to Daniel, then took a step closer to Teal’c, joining Daniel and the colonel’s attack, “Didn’t wish it? And yet only a year later he did, just when Amaunet was trying to save Shifu? You couldn’t have known his intentions, since we all though him to be dead. Dead men…sorry, gods…can’t give orders.”

“Not to mention you could have delivered Apophis’ child right into his arms and you didn’t. Why? And at any time, you could have told Apophis Kasuf had the boy and he could have returned to Abydos to get the baby. Daniel’s right. You failed in your alleged duties, Teal’c,” the colonel picked up right where Sam left off.

“I did not. Apophis wished to test Amaunet’s loyalty and she failed. Orders were not required. As First Prime to my god it was my duty,” Teal’c maintained his position, ire brimming in his face.

God, this was like talking to a brick wall. They were never going to get to Teal’c this way; he’d suddenly become a master at twisting the meaning of their words and his own actions to suit his illusion of reality. All it was doing was causing them more pain in the process. Sam struggled to keep the contents of her stomach in her stomach, the bile rising again into her throat. She’d give anything to be out of this room. Now.

“So killing Amaunet had absolutely nothing to do with—oh, I don’t know—saving Daniel’s life?” the colonel exasperated.

Daniel made a tortured groan and backed up a step. Sam started at the first sounds that had come from the archaeologist in quite some time and turned his direction. He was swallowing repeatedly and bright, unnatural spots of color splashed across his pale face. Staring at Teal’c as though he physically couldn’t look away, Daniel’e eyes were filled with dread.

Teal’c blazed with menace, staring long and hard at the colonel before casually eyeing each of them. Like he was inventorying them. The room was filled only with harsh breathing and ice. Their friend finally settled his gaze on Daniel, who was still looking dumbstruck with his back against the wall.

“On the contrary, it was my intention to kill this pathetic creature. Had you and Major Carter not approached, I would have allowed Amaunet to complete the task before ending her life,” Teal’c's voice was subdued, but to Sam it sounded almost elated.

Teal’c paused and smiled. Sam shuddered.

“R-right,” O’Neill’s obnoxious voice offended Teal’c's ears. “So you knew we were gonna show up and you could only kill one of them, I suppose.”

Fool. O’Neill did not even realize he was providing aid to Teal’c. Eyes focused on the timid archaeologist, pressed tightly to the wall, Teal’c watched as O’Neill’s words skewered into the young man. Daniel Jackson’s pain was evident, face miserably failing to conceal his anguish. Teal’c reveled in it. He changed his mind. The scholar would not die. That would be too kind and the lowly Tau’ri did not merit kindness.

“That is correct. My disappointment was great. Until,” he taunted, his stare victoriously directed at Daniel Jackson, “I realized how much more pain I could inflict upon him by forcing him to bear witness to the death of his beloved wife. Every day since then I have taken great enjoyment in the knowledge I was the one to cause such heartache.”

It was the same pleasure he was feeling now. Daniel Jackson blanched and appeared to want to crawl into the wall at his back. Weak. So easily manipulated. Teal’c slowly returned his attention to O’Neill to see his words were having the effect he had hoped. O’Neill held his emotions in check, save for a compassion and apology-filled glance to the archaeologist. It was all Teal’c needed to satisfy the hatred churning through him.

“That’s not true! I won’t,” Daniel Jackson suddenly cried, practically choking on his tongue. “I won’t believe that, Teal’c. You are my friend, whether you remember it or not.”

Teal’c snapped his head around to find the archaeologist had advanced a couple of steps toward him. The younger man’s eyes were stricken a deep blue, expression contorted. Teal’c smiled again at how gullible the Tau’ri were, that he could deceive them with so little effort. Major Carter also revealed his success, her focus switching from him to Daniel Jackson. The distress was plain in her body language. He would start with her.

“I am not, nor have I ever been your friend. It sickens me to even consider such a relationship with the likes of you. No, Daniel Jackson, the only pleasure I have had while in your company was when you were suffering,” Teal’c relentlessly goaded. “When I am freed, and I will be freed by my god, I will ensure your misery is endless. One by one, I will kill your friends before your very eyes as you beg me to stop. I will begin by ridding the universe of Major Carter, filthy with Tok’ra memories. I will torture her to obtain information for Apophis, slowly sucking the life from her mind and then her body.”

Teal’c paused again, relishing the reactions his threats…guarantees…were spawning. As he had hoped, O’Neill’s muscles were becoming tense with restraint, fists whitening. The SG1 team leader had a dangerously intimate relationship with his subordinates, a weakness Teal’c now found easy to target. Much like Daniel Jackson, O’Neill would suffer immensely at the loss of those for whom he cared deeply. He had openly demonstrated how is own death was preferable to that of Major Carter’s. Anticipation surged and Teal’c tightened his hands into fists, imagining they were wrapped around the woman’s neck.

The Tau’ri before him remained silent, stunned. Teal’c continued, “Next I will kill Doctor Fraiser. What is it you say? Women and…children first.”

O’Neill visibly flinched at the implication. Oh, yes, Teal’c would enjoy doing all he threatened, wreaking helplessness upon the man. Perhaps he had made an error. Perhaps it was O’Neill who should survive to witness the death of his friends. No matter. Victory would be his, whether it was O’Neill or Daniel Jackson to live in misery.

“That’s enough!” General Hammoned burst, shoving past O’Neill to snare Teal’c's attention. “Time’s up, Colonel. Let’s go.”

Teal’c's heart soared. He was winning. Even if he could not break free to return to his god, at least he had prevailed. He wanted to laugh and jeer in their faces. At the general’s words, Daniel Jackson moved toward the door, coming close to Teal’c's chair. He could not resist. Willing all of his strength into his right arm, he strained against the leather strap. He ignored the pain as it snapped, seeing only the archaeologist’s defeated figure.

O’Neill’s angry shouts distracted him only slightly. He latched onto Daniel Jackson’s wrist and bodily swung the young man toward him. Panic skittered through the archaeologist’s eyes as he attempted to break Teal’c's grip. Teal’c caught them and held them with his own gaze filled with triumph and promise.

“Let go of him,” General Hammond roared, grabbing Teal’c's hand in an attempt to wrench his fingers from Daniel Jackson’s forearm. “Do it, Jack.”

Teal’c kept his hand firmly clamped, but averted his stare to the general. The man was as emotionally invested with people beneath his rank. It disturbed him greatly he had to bow to the whims of such an ineffective commander. His resolve to break free grew again. He would see them all suffer and perish.

A sharp prick in his left shoulder invaded his body. Teal’c swiveled his neck to find O’Neill withdrawing a hypodermic needle from his shoulder. He began experiencing a vague, tingling sensation in his arms and legs and the room started spinning. They might succeed in subduing him now but soon, very soon, he would get his revenge. Letting go of Daniel Jackson, Teal’c felt his mind growing numb. He fought the drug flowing into his system, finding it necessary to focus on the words of his captors.

Blurred vision confused him but he did witness the Tau’ri fleeing the room. The door slammed shut and he was left alone. Closing his eyes, Teal’c concentrated on hearing the voices now outside his prison. He did not know why, but it was vital for him to hear the words.

“That’s it. I don’t see we have a choice. No matter what we say or do, Teal’c will not see the truth,” General Hammond’s tired voice floated through the metal. “The impartiality has to help.”

Teal’c inwardly rejoiced even as his body sagged. He would die before allowing these fools to sway him from the truth.

“But McKenzie? The man doesn’t know his head from his-”

“Colonel O’Neill…Jack…I understand your hesitancy and your concern when it comes to Doctor McKenzie, but I will not stand by while you, Major Carter and Doctor Jackson are put through the wringer for no good reason. I believe Doctor Fraiser is correct and my decision is final. From this point forward, Doctor McKenzie will proceed with the deprogramming. You will be able to observe through the security cameras,” the general grimly ordered.

“Sir, I-” O’Neill protested again.

“My decision is final, Jack. I suggest you go find Doctor Jackson and Major Carter. Make sure they’re all right and then get that rest. We have to trust McKenzie to do his job.”

“Right,” O’Neill skeptically sighed.

As their voices faded, Teal’c smiled. His task had just become that much easier. Doctor McKenzie was a simpleton. Teal’c knew now what he must do to escape the Tau’ri. It was so simple he cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier.

With the aid of Doctor McKenzie, Teal’c would be ‘cured’. He had twisted the truth for five years. He could do it again and convince them of his sincerity. Then, when they had relaxed in his presence, Teal’c would be free. It would not be long.

Puffs of smoke marred an otherwise clear night. The cloudless sky sparkled with brilliant stars and once upon a time Janet would have found comfort in the astonishing beauty of the universe. Not now, though. She was still a bit rankled General Hammond hadn’t allowed her to join the session with Teal’c. Hadn’t she just as much right to be there as the rest of them? Teal’c was her friend…her patient. To make matters worse, the general also forbade her to return to the infirmary.

Forbade. God, that was so like a man. Of course, she didn’t exactly obey, heading straight for her lab to continue her research. Then Cassie had called to ask if Janet ever intended to come home again and if not, was it all right if she threw non-stop raves to raise a little cash? Exhaustion had gotten the best of her. Janet cringed as she recalled the twenty-minute screaming match. Her mother had warned her raising a teenage girl could be a hazardous occupation; she thought she was prepared. Boy, was she wrong.

So, anxiety about Teal’c fueled by irritation with her daughter drove Janet to the surface, cigarettes in hand. It was so easy to fall into that habit again. Telling herself she’d quit when Teal’c was better, Janet defiantly inhaled and let the nicotine settle her nerves. She couldn’t keep her mind off SG1 and General Hammond, hoping they’d be successful this time.

Advising the general the next step should be to let Doctor McKenzie at Teal’c hadn’t been the easiest thing to do. As a doctor, McKenzie was adequate. As a person, Janet had her doubts. Perhaps that’s precisely what was needed with Teal’c's treatment. A completely detached administrator. She could only hope so. SG1 was sure to take the news poorly.

Janet ground the butt into the boulder she was perched on, rolling the soft filter back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. She really should get back inside. The air was crisp and cool, seeping into her skin through her thin lab coat. The discomfort out here versus the discomfort down in her office. With a heavy sigh, Janet reached into her pocket and withdrew the pack of cigarettes and her lighter. One more for the road.

She flicked the lighter, the small flame illuminating a small circle around her. Drawing in a deep breath, Janet nearly choked as she heard rustling behind her. A tiny yelp escaped and she dropped the lighter. Darkness enfolded around her, the brief contact with brightness enough to temporarily distort her vision.

“W-who’s there?” she called, kicking herself for sounding meek and scared.

“Doctor Fraiser?” a male voice filled the air.

Daniel. Relief coursed through her. Janet knew she was safe here—she was on a military base after all—but the thought of lions and tigers and bears had sprung unbidden into her imagination. Wait. Daniel? And he didn’t sound altogether steady himself.

“Yes it’s me,” she affirmed, sliding off the rock to fumble around for the missing lighter. “Just getting a breath of fresh air…uh…”

Remembering the cancer stick she was waving around in her left hand, Janet trailed off with an embarrassed chuckle. Well, she was busted now. Her right hand finally found the pesky Bic and she stood again, taking another drag.

“Mind if I, uh,” Daniel hedged. “Could I steal one of those? Unless you happen to have a bottle of whiskey tucked away up here too.”

Uh oh. Alarm bells rang loud in her skull. She turned around to face him, eyes finally able to see. Even by the dim starlight, Janet could see the archaeologist was pale. Make that pale and shaky, she amended as he sank onto the boulder. The selfish part of her was now thankful the general hadn’t let her join them. Whatever happened must have been bad.

“Well, as your doctor I have to advise against the use of tobacco products,” she lamely joked, hoping to ease Daniel into talking. When he showed no reaction, she plopped down next to him and extended the pack. She might as well just leap right in. As she handed the lighter over, she asked, “Bad?”

Daniel’s hand faltered in mid air. Whoa. Very bad indeed. His icy fingers touched hers for the briefest of seconds, continuing on their mission to the lighter. The flame erupted quickly, disappearing just as fast. He didn’t say a word as he handed it back to her. Together they sat in silence, Daniel studying the sky while she studied him. He had Sha’re written all over his face. Janet winced in sympathy.

“I know this is probably rude,” Daniel abruptly whispered, shooting her a glance. “But do you think I could be alone for a little while? I just need…”

He stopped and looked away. A gigantic lump took up residence in her throat and she immediately rose. It was common for Daniel to seek solitude when he was hurting. She could do this simple thing for him. With a squeeze to his arm, Janet began walking away but only got four steps when she heard him swallow what could only be a sob. She halted.

No. She wouldn’t enable him to maintain his typical seclusion this time. When Sha’re had died, no one had wanted to approach the barrier he had built and it had taken almost two months before he came close to resembling the Daniel they all knew and loved. That wouldn’t be an option this time, both for practical purposes and for his state of emotional health. Knowing the rest of SG1 would likely find him eventually, Janet rationalized that she was simply holding the door for them.

Straightening her shoulders, Janet spun on her heels and took a hesitant step back toward the big rock. Daniel stiffened instantly and stopped making any noise. She almost caved, having been on the wrong end of an angered Daniel Jackson before. It wasn’t an experience she enjoyed. The longer she waited, the more she realized the outcome of his irritation was worth the risk.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked at last.

“Not particularly,” Daniel predictably replied, his face turning away as she neared.

“Well, that’s too bad, because I do.”

“Uh, why?” he shot, putting an annoying edge and lilt to the word.

“Not talking about it won’t help. I want to help you work through it. Maybe if I understood exactly what you went through I could do that,” Janet gently explained, reaching her hand out, but not touching him.

“I don’t think you could understand. Not that I want you to,” Daniel sighed. He rubbed his left hand over his face, lifting his right to take a puff of the cigarette. “Not that I want anyone to. To truly know means you’d have to have experienced it.”

“Experienced what, exactly?” she innocently asked, playing dumb. Noting he was almost done with his smoke, she reached for the pack again, she snagged two and handed Daniel one. “These are my last. I swear I’m not going to buy anymore. Teal’c will get better and I won’t have to.”

At the Jaffa’s name, Daniel noticeably jostled. He recovered his composure quickly, snuffing the butt of his first cigarette and stretching his hand out for the lighter. Janet narrowed her eyes and flicked the flame herself, offering it to him. In the sparse light, she gathered as much information about his physical appearance as she could. Though it had only been a couple of hours since she saw him last, the shadows under his eyes seemed deeper. His eyes were pale to the point of being colorless and the lines on his forehead were more pronounced, adding years to his age. Janet frowned.

“Daniel? Please tell me,” she coaxed.

“I thought I could…” he began, stopping to swallow and take another drag. “I could handle it. The Sha’re thing.”

So she had gotten that correct. Janet held her tongue and hoped he’d continue without prompting. She didn’t have any first-hand knowledge, but Sam told her Daniel either locked everything away and spoke nothing or he let the floodgates open and let it flow. He needed to do that; she knew it.

“I really thought I had a grip on it. It’s been almost two years already, you know? Still seems like yesterday,” Daniel spoke as if he were a recording, the words hollow and automatic.

Janet cringed, knowing how much he had to be feeling beneath the cool exterior. Stoic presentation didn’t mean he was emotionless. How often had she seen him talk about Sha’re as though she were someone else’s wife? Yet she recognized his ability to distance himself from reality was a mere defense mechanism.

“Teal’c twisted it all around,” he mechanically continued. “Just like he did with everything else. I knew it would come to that. But before, with everything, I didn’t believe him. God, Doc… Janet, I…”

He halted and peered at her through the darkness, cigarette rising to his lips. Janet almost started to speak, but then she caught his eyes. They pleaded for silence. Patiently sucking in the nicotine, she waited. She thought she had a good idea what he was going to say.

“What’s worse than anything…worse than the horrible lies Teal’c believes… is that I believed him. I said I didn’t, but my heart was cold with that conviction. I thought ‘Oh, God, it’s true. Teal’c's been serving Apophis the entire time I’ve known him’ and it made me ill. To think he killed Sha… Amaunet on purpose, to think he’s had ulterior motives with everything he’s done the past five years was too much. All of it. I believed every word. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but in those few moments I betrayed Teal’c's friendship. Betrayed all I know he truly stands for,” Daniel cried, his voice becoming stridently passionate and self-condemning.

Janet had no idea what to say. She hadn’t expected this particular twist. He turned to look at her, his face beseeching her to help ease his guilt. She couldn’t do that for him. To do so would be somewhat hypocritical, as she’d undergone the same thing. True, she hadn’t been a witness to the horror herself, but Sam’s stories were enough to feed her doubt. All she could offer him was a soft squeeze to his forearm.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are human aren’t you Daniel?” a strong voice issuing from behind them made her literally jump.

Janet quickly twirled around to find herself face to face with a concerned Colonel Jack O’Neill and Major Samantha Carter.

His whole being protested the general’s decree. McKenzie? He just couldn’t see how the headshrinker would be able to succeed with Teal’c where they all failed. McKenzie hadn’t exactly earned his trust in the two years since Daniel’s run in with insanity. Artificial insanity, which should have been diagnosed by the doctor and not the patient. Jack still bristled when he thought about how they’d all given up on Daniel. He didn’t want to repeat that mistake with Teal’c.

General Hammond’s receding figure occupied his vision as he stood listlessly in the hall outside the holding cell. His CO’s departing words rolled around in his head. Find Carter and Daniel. Both had taken off in opposite directions faster than he could spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Jack didn’t blame them, especially Daniel. His jaw had just about hit the floor when the archaeologist broached the Sha’re issue. When things had settled, he’d have to discuss with Daniel the importance of issuing memos when planning to drop bombs. A little warning would have been nice.

What was he doing, standing here mentally berating Daniel when he should be going to find the scientist? Making sure he was all right. He knew Daniel had likely understood he was in for a whole lot of emotional hurt when taking on Teal’c, but he doubted the archaeologist was really prepared to deal with it. Not alone, anyway. He’d go collect Carter and they’d find Daniel together. Jack took one last look at Teal’c through the window, strangely satisfied to see the Jaffa slouching in his chair. It was probably safe to send in some SFs to re-restrain him.

“Airman, see to it Teal’c's restraints are repaired,” he ordered one of the guards and started walking the direction Carter had gone. As an afterthought, he tossed back, “Oh, and be careful.”

Carter was exactly where he thought she’d be, looking for the doc in the infirmary. He was vaguely surprised at how much his second in command had been leaning on Doctor Fraiser the past week for support, but at the same time grateful she had someone with whom she could work through her feelings. Daniel and he had had several stilted conversations, where little real comfort was given or received. Of course, he hadn’t gone out of his way to talk. To anyone. The closest he’d gotten was tossing a couple back with Hammond.

Well, it was time for that to change. Jack silently watched Carter as she slumped in the doc’s office chair, head resting wearily on the desk. He snuck a look around the infirmary, but didn’t spot Fraiser anywhere. A nurse noticed his scanning eyes, nodding briefly and then shook her head with a shrug. Great. No help there. It was all right with him. He’d return Carter to her vigil in the doc’s office after they had their discussion with Daniel. He suddenly wondered if the archaeologist might prove hard to find.

“Carter?” he softly spoke, not wanting to startle her.

The young woman’s head snapped off the desk, hands twitching in reaction. Jack could see fatigue and pain lurking behind the tear-filled eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away. Almost nothing worse than seeing a woman crying. It always brought his own emotions closer to the surface than he liked them to be. Carter looked scared and his throat tightened in response to her dismay.

“Sir, I didn’t, uh, see you there,” she stammered in an unnecessary attempt to recover dignity.

“Carter,” he repeated, reverting his gaze to her. “It’s okay. Relax.”

“Yes, sir,” Carter whispered, slouching back into the chair so quickly Jack almost laughed.

“Look, I know you’re wanting to talk with Fraiser, but I’d like to track down Daniel. I could use some help,” he invited, trying to keep his tone light.

“What? He didn’t stay with…oh, right. Obviously not,” she rambled, discreetly brushing her face with both hands and rising. “Oh, sir. He’s-”

“Yeah,” he cut her off. “You can say that again. It wasn’t exactly pretty in there, was it?”

“All those things Teal’c said,” she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself in a Daniel-like manner. “That was the first time I was really afraid, you know? Of Teal’c and for Teal’c.”

“That wasn’t him, Carter. You have to know that,” Jack gently reminded.

Only he wasn’t certain of that himself. Whether it was physical and emotional exhaustion or the couple of drinks he’d had prior to entering the room, Jack had found his own stubborn will faltering under Teal’c's renewed rage. He’d almost…no, he had lost his cool, so frantic to fight against the evil vindictiveness Teal’c was readily spewing at them. In effect, Teal’c had won that round, as each of them let their feelings intrude. Hammond was right. They were all far too close, though he had to think there was a better way to deal with Teal’c than McKenzie. He just had to figure it out.

“I do know that, sir. I do. It wasn’t the pleasure he claimed he got from killing Amaunet…Sha’re. It was the stuff after. What he said he was going to do,” Carter’s voice shakily called him back.

She was standing next to him all of a sudden. Jack hadn’t even realized she was moving. Closing his eyes in a long blink, he sighed deeply. The though of Teal’c's threatened killing spree shook him to the core. The Jaffa knew any of them would rather die themselves than see the others suffer. It didn’t matter the threats were empty or that they were coming from someone not in his right mind. The words were as good as a sentence to life in prison. Never ending death row. And Teal’c knew all he had to do was plant that seed in their heads. They’d torment themselves for him.

“Not him. We have to remember that,” he reiterated, including himself this time. “They were only words.”

It sounded like the platitude it was. He shook his head and swung his arms to direct her out of the office. They really had to find Daniel. Carter nodded and brushed by him, automatically heading for the elevators. Daniel’s lab seemed as good a place as any to start.

Daniel wasn’t there. Nor was he in the commissary, the VIP room, any of the on base quarters or the locker room. Jack’s agitation grew with each place they searched. The longer Daniel was alone, the more likely he’d withdraw into his protective shell. No way did he want that to happen. Slamming the locker room door angrily, Jack shook his head at Carter.

“Where the hell could he have gone?” Jack grumbled, sounding angry when all he felt was concern.

“I don’t know, sir. Maybe we should…” Carter paused.

“Maybe we should what?” he prompted, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. So tired.

“Cigarettes,” she said out of the blue.

Huh? Jack blinked at her a couple of times in confusion.

Carter peered up at him, noting his perplexity. She quickly elaborated, “When Janet’s stressed out, she smokes.”

“So?” he blustered, waving his right hand for her to continue.

“Janet’s up top.”

“Still not getting it, Carter,” Jack mumbled, cursing the sleep deprivation obviously stunting his quick mind.

“Where does Daniel go when he’s upset, particularly about Sha’re?” Carter asked.

Oh. Why couldn’t she have just said that from the beginning and why hadn’t they thought of that right away? Jack smiled at her thinly, redundantly answering, “Up top.”

They jogged for the elevator once again. Jack was confident they’d find Daniel outside and he relaxed slightly. Still, when they reached the ground level, he practically trampled over Carter trying to get outside. Smoke. He could smell it the second he opened the door and the craving he continually fought reared up. Carter started forward, moving for an outcropping of large rocks Daniel frequented on his excursions to the surface.

Sure enough. As they got closer, Jack could hear a solitary voice. Daniel, speaking to a much smaller dark shape next to him. Doctor Fraiser. He couldn’t quite make out the words yet, but could tell from the tone Daniel was troubled. Obviously. That was a given. There was something else Jack detected that disturbed him even more. He recognized it even before the words clarified.

“…every word. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but in those few moments I betrayed Teal’c's friendship. Betrayed all I know he truly stands for,” Daniel was hollowly saying.

There was a long pause and Jack’s mind screamed at the petite physician to say something, anything, to Daniel, but the woman seemed at a loss. Carter took one step forward as Doctor Fraiser finally reached out a hand to Daniel. Jack had to break the silence.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are human aren’t you Daniel?” he softly called.

The doc noticeably started at his entrance into the previously one-sided conversation and pivoted to face them. Jack watched as she tried to nonchalantly dispose of her cigarette, her little foot casually brushing dirt over the still smoking butt. Following the offending item to the ground, he edged his eyes back up, halting when he caught sight of a similar tube in Daniel’s hand. The archaeologist had frozen, his back stiff.

Eyes pinned on Daniel’s fingers, Jack continued, “We’ve all been repeatedly attacked by Teal’c on very personal levels. Ruthlessly. Do you think you’re the only one to have doubts?”

Daniel finally moved, twisting his torso to face them. The archaeologist’s face was unreadable, making Jack cringe. It was never good when he couldn’t even get a hint on Daniel’s true state of mind. Raising the cigarette to his lips, Daniel inhaled and then let it drop to the ground like some movie hero/rebel. Except he wasn’t showing any antagonism with the gesture. He remained silent. Jack’s cringe turned into a frown. Maybe he hadn’t approached this right.

“I thought he meant it,” Carter abruptly blurted.

They all stared at her. Even in the starlight, Jack could see she had paled even further. The tears were gone, though. She looked ready to face their fears. He slouched a bit, shoved his hands into his pockets and waited.

“I thought it was over. That this was how Teal’c was going to be forever and that he’d have to be locked up,” she continued, holding her eyes on him for a long second before switching to Doctor Fraiser and finally to Daniel. “You’re not the only one, Daniel.”

Daniel took off his glasses and blinked, not making direct contact with any of them. He seemed to focus on a spot somewhere behind Carter and the doc. Out of habit, Jack followed the archaeologist’s eyes, looking for signs of trouble. He shook his head. All the signs were right in front of him.

“No, you’re not,” Fraiser tentatively said, looking like she wasn’t sure she belonged. “I’ve been wracking my brain for anything to help Teal’c remember who he truly is. The more dead ends I encountered, the more I believed it was impossible. With the things Sam’s told me, I thought… the reason I couldn’t find anything to ‘fix’ him was because there was nothing to fix.”

“But there is something to fix. Teal’c,” Jack firmly stated, remembering his need to keep Carter and Daniel fighting. He knew, though, he had his own confession to make. Daniel was looking mildly better. Jack wanted them all to dig into their reserve stubbornness. “I won’t lie and say I haven’t had any doubts, but I also have to believe we’ll get him back.”

“God, that’s all we’ve said for a week now!” Daniel exasperated. He rose and started pacing. “Do you really think that’s going to happen?”

“I can’t let myself think anything else, Daniel,” Jack stated, pausing to deliberate his next words. “You said it yourself- if we give up on him now, that’s the ultimate betrayal.”

“That’s not what…” Daniel winced, as Jack knew he would and trailed off. The archaeologist pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Daniel tiredly continued, “It was a betrayal to believe the lies, I know that. But I know Teal’c is in there. I’m not giving up on that, I’m just so tired. I don’t know if we’ll see him again.”

“Don’t you see that’s as much of a betrayal?” Jack persisted, becoming irritated at Daniel’s words. “What you just said makes me think you’re ready to throw in the towel. We can’t, Daniel.”

“Sir, with all due respect, Daniel’s just voicing concerns we all share. Not acknowledging it could go down that way won’t make it any easier if it does,” Carter tentatively pushed her way into the conversation. “No matter how much we all want Teal’c back, the fact is, there’s no way for us to be certain we’ll get him. That’s what’s truly so horrible about all of this.”

Jack knew she spoke the truth, but there was a part of him that just couldn’t let it go. Damnit, he’d let Teal’c get captured. He wasn’t about to let that snake win, even if it might take him years, NID be damned. Call it ego or pride. He, no they, would get Teal’c back. And that meant he’d have to convince the general to let them keep trying. Him, at least. Jack didn’t know if he could make himself order Carter and Daniel to continue with the Jaffa.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Carter. I know the possibility exists. I also know, though, I’m willing to do anything to keep that from being the end result. I can’t not,” he tried to explain.

Carter gazed back at him unblinkingly. Jack saw her resolution building again and his heart soared. He hadn’t wanted to actually believe she’d given up. Swinging his head to Daniel, Jack prayed he’d find the same determination. The archaeologist stared at him openly, understanding of Jack’s guilt washing over his face, softening his expression for an instant. Daniel nodded.

Doctor Fraiser suddenly cleared her throat, disrupting the silence. Jack looked down at her, noting she was scrutinizing him closely. He thought he saw her head twitch, shaking ever so slightly. What? Trying to figure out what she was hinting at, Jack kept his focus on her. As if sensing his confusion, the doctor fingered the lapel of her white lab coat. Crap, McKenzie.

“Except one thing,” Jack hastily amended. “I’m going to have to talk with Hammond. Right now, we’re all essentially banned from contact with Teal’c. McKenzie’s been called.”

“What? McKenzie?” Carter exploded. “What could he do that we haven’t tried?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders, ruefully agreeing, “That’s what I said. But Hammond and Fraiser…sorry, Doc. I have to disagree with you…think he’s our best bet.”

“No,” Daniel abruptly said. Jack swiveled toward the younger man. “That won’t work, I’m certain. There has to be something else.”

“Daniel, I’ve considered every option. What you’ve tried hasn’t worked. McKenzie is more than qualified to handle this,” Doctor Fraiser immediately protested, though Jack thought it to be a half-hearted attempt.

“Teal’c said once hypnosis wouldn’t work on him,” Carter stepped up to the plate swinging. Her face belied her next words, twisting with doubt, “I’m sure he’s qualified, Janet. I just don’t know if that’s good enough.”

“Maybe we should send someone to the Land of Light for Drey’auc and Ry’ac?” Doctor Fraiser hesitantly suggested.

Jack listened quietly, very pleased to see them all at least behaving more like their tenacious selves. He rocked back on his heels a bit, relishing the rejuvenation of spirits. Things were looking up. He had them back, even if they weren’t aware they had gone missing. Now they just had to find Teal’c.

“What good would that do? Would we really want to put them through this?” Daniel argued.

And it hit him.

“Bra’tac,” Jack decisively called out. His three companions fell into silence. “He’ll know what to do.”

Carter mutely nodded. Fraiser blinked. Daniel almost smiled. Jack did smile and ushered them back into the mountain. They’d rest as ordered. But then he’d talk to Hammond and they’d get Teal’c to see sense.

He knew it.

Hammond didn’t tell them he’d witnessed their discussions on top of Cheyenne Mountain. For all the colonel knew, he was a complete pushover—caving very, very easily to the demands of his first team. That wasn’t so far from the truth, he admitted to himself. His soft spot was showing more and more with each passing year.

But it wasn’t the case this time. He had his own doubts regarding Doctor McKenzie’s ability to get through to Teal’c. The man’s track record, with SG-1 in particular, was not stellar by anyone’s definition. More than that, though, Hammond based his decision to allow SG-1 back in the room with Teal’c was the reinforced stubbornness he’s seen return to them out there, nearly a week ago. All of them, including Doctor Fraiser, had immediately stopped demonstrating any signs of uncertainty. Hammond saw it strength visibly bolstering their countenances and that positivism held fast.

So he let them continue on with Teal’c, though McKenzie dominated the sessions. Hammond had been surprised at the relative ease with which the deprogramming had progressed. Surprised, that is, until he realized Teal’c was playing them. Almost the instant McKenzie had walked into the holding cell, Teal’c changed his behavior. Became less antagonistic, far too cooperative and slimily pleasant. Used car salesperson pleasant. The Jaffa was once again twisting the truth, but doing so now in a more benevolent manner. There was no question in Hammond’s mind that Teal’c would bolt at the first opportunity.

When he first understood Teal’c's subterfuge, Hammond had conferred with Colonel O’Neill to find his subordinate also saw the deception. Together, they decided to ease SG1 out of the deprogramming and give McKenzie full reign. He admitted it—they had flat out used McKenzie, knowing Teal’c would find it far more believable that he could influence one man of his sincerity over many. Hammond knew the Jaffa would bank on the psychiatrist to convince them

And so it was. McKenzie stood next to him with a very smug and self-satisfied smile upon his face, not knowing of the trap Teal’c was about to run into. He looked sideways at the slight man and nearly snorted. At first, he’d felt a minor twinge of conscience for having to use one of his own people as a pawn in this game, but McKenzie didn’t have a clue Teal’c was snowballing them. He was a psychiatrist! He should have come to the same conclusion he and O’Neill had on his own. Hammond shook his head. Perhaps it was time to assign a new doctor in McKenzie’s role.

“After you,” the colonel was now saying.

Hammond watched as O’Neill took a slight shuffle backward to allow Teal’c the door. The Jaffa was brimming with cockiness, poorly hidden as extreme goodwill. Strolling out of the room that had held him for weeks and into the corridor with confidence. Hammond hoped they were wrong. He hoped McKenzie had truly succeeded. But as Teal’c rounded the first corner and caught sight of Bra’tac, he knew it wasn’t to be. The Jaffa’s falter was almost imperceptive, but Hammond saw it.

“Hello, old friend,” Bra’tac pleasantly greeted, showing no signs of suspicion.

“Master Bra’tac,” Teal’c replied, sounding genuinely surprised, almost pleased. “It has been too long.”

“So it has. Your friends of Earth have taken great pains to bring me here,” Bra’tac continued.

The two Jaffa were locked in a friendly embrace, arms clasped tightly and Hammond found himself relaxing. Bra’tac was still smiling. That was a good thing. Muscles tensed again as Bra’tac’s smiled turned into a grimace and he vocalized what Hammond really already knew.

“He is deceiving you!”

At his words, Teal’c shoved his former mentor aside and ran. Hammond’s heart sank. This wasn’t over. Bra’tac caught his eyes and gave him a small nod, jaw clenched with determination.

But it soon would be.

Though he knew flight to be cowardly, Teal’c ran. There was no other option. His deception had proven successful with McKenzie, but his confidence had betrayed him. Master Bra’tac’s unexpected appearance told him immediately of his failure. He had been deceived, just as he had been deceiving. Teal’c took out his frustrations on the SFs standing in his way, barreling through them as though they were cardboard cutouts. He would make it to the Stargate this time.

Rounding the corner, Teal’c was greeted by Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. They, along with a handful of SFs, were blocking his way. The woman raised her arm, aiming a zatnikatel at his chest and he felt a moment of desperation.

“Teal’c,” Major Carter’s voice held a note warning.

He turned back, only to run into Master Bra’tac, General Hammond and O’Neill. His ire mounted.

“Shol’va!” he spat at his former mentor and lunged for him.

Master Bra’tac immediately discharged a zatnikatel and Teal’c knew only pain. Darkness edged the edges of his vision. They would all pay for this.

Epilogue
(aka How Not To Win Friends and Influence People)

Of all the rotten luck. He wasn’t even supposed to be on duty today; he was only filling in for the ailing Lieutenant Davis, who thought because they shared a last name no one would notice her absence. Never mind the fact she had a dark complexion and was, well, a woman and he was fair skinned and male.

She owed him BIG time.

Walter Davis lay upon a gurney in the infirmary, back throbbing and neck burning. He had only just fully gotten rid of the burns from that whole computer entity fiasco and now here he was in the infirmary again! Unbelievable. He’d been with the SGC practically since its inception and he could count the number of times he’d been injured on one hand. Twice in a little over a month was abnormal and he didn’t much care for it. He was a technician. His job should not be dangerous.

Scowling at the sympathetic looks the nurses were favoring him with, Walter mentally recounted those trips. First there was that bizarre reverse evolution thing, but that had affected everyone. Then, after Hathor’s introduction, Doctor Fraiser had made it mandatory for all the men to remain confined for twenty-four hours under her care. He confessed to still being puzzled over that one.

Pondering for a while, he figured there had been a good two or two and a half year gap, then the alien body stealing foothold situation occurred. Until she could verify there would be no ill effects, Fraiser had so kindly locked everyone in that time as well. Then there was another blessedly peaceful lapse to bring him up to the present. Walter closed his eyes and brought his right hand up to massage his tender neck.

Damn, that Jaffa had strength. Of course there had ever been any question in his mind in that regard. He’d never been more frightened in his life than when Teal’c had plunged into the control room and snagged him. Walter shuddered, remembering Teal’c was in a holding cell not too far away. He doubted he’d be comfortable around Teal’c for a very long time. Not that he was ever comfortable around Teal’c. The guy was just so…silent. Disturbing.

“Hey, Davis,” a voice intruded on his thoughts. “How are you feeling?”

Walter opened his eyes to see Major Carter and Colonel O’Neill standing at his bedside. Wishing they would just go away, he nodded, “I’m fine, sir.”

“We wanted to apologize for what happened. We should have anticipated Teal’c would try to escape,” Major Carter softly told him, regret coloring her eyes a deep sea blue.

Augh. Walter swore at himself. Don’t look at the eyes. He always got a little tongue tied and weak kneed around the major. She had it all. Beauty, most definitely. But the brains were what really got him going. When everyone else glazed over at her scientific pontifications, Walter always felt the need for a cold shower.

Don’t succumb.

“I… it’s okay, ma’am,” Walter stuttered and looked away. “I… I know he’s not himself.”

“Regardless, we feel bad. Teal’c will, too,” Colonel O’Neill gruffly said. “Once we get him back.”

“R-right,” Davis stammered back. Whatever.

“Well. Just thought we’d check in on you. You rest up and… ah… get better,” the colonel uttered, clearly uncomfortable.

Major Carter gave him one more pity-filled glance and a squeeze on his arm. The pair turned from him, heading to the other side of the infirmary, where Walter could see Doctor Jackson. He watched them silently. Their apologies were nice, but they got him thinking.

Huh.

He went over his list of infirmary visits and had an epiphany. Four out of the five times he recalled being injured had resulted, even if indirectly, from something SG1 had done. No apologies were going to make up for that!

Walter settled deeper into the mattress beneath him and closed his eyes. He had always considered SG1 to be ‘special’ in comparison to the other SG teams. Perhaps he based his opinion too closely on General Hammond’s obvious regards for them. He was definitely starting to doubt that conviction. In fact, he found himself thinking quite the opposite. Special at getting him wounded maybe.

He rolled onto his side and resolutely removed SG1 as his personal favorite team.

The End

Conversations on Hearts
by Carrie

It was testament to how boring her life had become that something so ordinary and by the book had her all atwitter. A teenager again, that was precisely how Janet Fraiser felt, but only in the good way. Every time she came back to her office, her heart pounded.

The beginning had been innocuous. On Monday, she had come to the mountain in a very bad mood; the more cheerily people greeted her, the more foul her mood became. By the time she had reached her office, SGC personnel of all sizes were leaping out of her path. Janet hadn’t cared. A little coffee, maybe a candy bar from the vending machine, and she would have been as chipper as ever. She hadn’t got the chance to do that. One little thing made her day so much brighter by itself. On her desk, she found a chocolate rose, long plastic-stemmed and rich. She had melted, pulled out of her irritability by the kind act of person unknown.

Janet had assumed the kind culprit was one of her staff imparting cheer for everyone, but the rose had just been the beginning, and it had just been for her. Tuesday, it was a bottle of her favorite red wine, from an excellent year. Following through on that theme on Wednesday, two beautiful wine glasses appeared on her desk, filled with chocolate champagne truffles. It was on this day that she had clued in she had a bit of an admirer, one who had researched her favorite things.

The gifts continued, while she tried to figure out the bearer. On Thursday, it was a Yo-Yo Ma CD, and that sold her; Yo-Yo Ma’s playing could reduce her to quivering jello. By the time Friday rolled around, she had been bouncing and not hiding it from a soul. The entire infirmary staff maintained they had no part in the week’s mysteries. They hadn’t even had insight on his identity. It was someone very stealthy, which didn’t help given her place of employment. When the gift certificate for a day of pampering at a spa appeared, she had found she didn’t give a damn who this anonymous person was.

Thrumming her fingers against the desk, Janet realized she couldn’t sit in her office all day in the hopes of catching someone in the act. She had work to do, and, really, it wasn’t in her best interest to put a crimp in the incognito Romeo’s style. Rising, she left the confines of the office to do a routine check on her current patients. SG8 had ‘gated to a planet thriving with what turned out to be a highly virulent plant comparable to sumac, except that every member had suffered an adverse reaction. Simply because she didn’t trust them not to itch, she had restricted them to the infirmary for the next few days. Lieutenant Bannion had suffered the worst, so Janet headed toward her first to check if the steroid was doing the trick.

“How are you feeling today, Melissa?” she greeted, already knowing the answer. The poor woman had blistering sores all over her hands, neck and face.

“Oh, you know. Better than before. Anything from you-know-who yet?”

“No. I’m getting a little worried he’s all talk and no action. Not that he’s talked or anything. Oh, you know what I mean.” She felt her cheeks flush. She really was acting like a schoolgirl, wasn’t she?

Clearing her throat, Janet prescribed herself a dose of mental sense and focused on the wounded at hand. Perusals of all four of them told her that all but poor Melissa was responding well to the steroid. She wanted to try a cortisone cream, which was the only thing not at her immediate disposal. She glanced at her office as she left the infirmary for supply, as if someone could possibly have got in there while she was so close. She made it to supply and back in record time, administered the cream and busied herself with routine tasks.

Or tried to.

Curiosity got the best of her, and she frequently checked her office. Better than a gift would be if the admirer himself were there. Neither made appearances. Soon, the end of her shift arrived. Janet was disappointed, by the apparent abandonment of her unknown beau and by her own foolish hopes. She swung by SG8 one last time before heading to her office for her jacket. Clicking on the light, she saw it immediately – her deep red dress and strappy sandals were carefully hung where her jacket normally was. Cassie was a conspirator in this, then. Her eyes riveted to the desk, where she saw a black velvet jewelry box. Opening the box, she gasped at a garnet earring and pendant set that matched the dress perfectly.

Sitting down, Janet noticed a folded piece of paper sat where the jewelry box had been. She unfolded it and read the simple message: Please go put on the dress. She looked a mess. She needed additional prepping. Thank goodness she kept her locker equipped. Humming to herself, she journeyed to the locker room for a shower, change and sprucing up. Nervous anticipation made the tasks take longer than she wanted, and she realized mid way through she didn’t know where she was supposed to go once dressed to the nines.

In the end, she went back to her office because it had seemed the focal point during all this. It was the right thing to do. She saw the glow emanating from the room while she was still a fair distance away, and as she got closer, she smelled something divine. Peering around the door, Janet gasped at the transformation. Strategically placed candles lit the desk turned dinner table. Soft cello music played. She entered, frustrated that she remained alone. Fingering the plates of beautifully presented food, her gaze landed on a string of conversation hearts.

My. Affect. Ion. For. You. Is. Vast.

Janet was already smiling when Teal’c filled the doorway, holding a single, real rose and a breathtaking smile of his own.

The Beginning…

The End

Cry For The Moon
by Carrie

Never again.

Never again would he allow any member of any team he commanded, from now until his likely fast approaching retirement, sneak past his defenses to become a friend. Nothing even like a close acquaintance. After a solid hour of whizzing the ball into his street hockey goal, Jack had mentally sorted through all the options and finally realized that was the only course of action for him to take. The only thing that would prevent this horrible deadness from taking over his body and soul again.

“He was your friend.”

Ah, Charlie. It had only been three hours since one of his closest friends in the world had died. No, been killed by Jack’s own hand. Angrily, he reset his shot and slammed the stick into the ball mightily. The shot went wide, bouncing hard on the garage door, ricocheting oddly off the manual handle and flying back toward him. Reflexively, he dodged but wasn’t fast enough. The ball smacked his ankle, and though it was not all that painful, he crumpled to the ground while the projectile fled the driveway and into the street.

“My friend died on the table.”

Those words continued to haunt him. He’d said them without hesitation, as if vocalizing them to an audience would mean he himself had believed that much had been true -that it hadn’t really been his friend he’d ordered killed. The justification, which had grown with every swipe at the ball until it became a roar in his head, was futile; it didn’t change the outcome or diminish the loss. Sitting there in a huddled pile in the middle of his driveway, Jack made the resolution again. Most people swore off food, cigarettes or alcohol because all three had the potential to kill slowly. He was swearing off friendship, though it had nothing to do with his own physical mortality.

Sweat trickled into his eyes, searing so strongly tears sprang up to combat the fire. Jerkily, he let the hockey stick clatter onto the blacktop and eased into a more comfortable sitting position with his legs slightly bent at the knees. He let the tears cleanse, wash out the irritant with proficiency befitting their function. High commendation to his tear ducts for working so hard. Chuckling crazily, Jack wasn’t sure when the moisture had turned from necessity to plain old hysterical emotion but he couldn’t stop the tears from raining down his face. There were no embarrassing sobs, just grief sliding gracefully, horribly down his exertion-flushed cheeks.

Ah, goddamnit, Charlie.

He touched the fingertips of his right hand with his left, remembering the feel of his friend’s fear-clammy grasp and with it, the depth of kinship that small link had signified. Theirs had been a bond of comradeship, a brotherhood of life and death. It had been too much. He’d had no choice but to lob off a lame joke to break the heavy mood, and it had worked like an O’Neill charm. On the surface, at least. Underneath the laughter, Jack’s heart had been breaking with panic that bluff and bluster wouldn’t succeed, because really, he had thought, there was a limit to how much or often that crap worked.

“Crap,” he whispered to the sky. Why couldn’t it have worked one more time? He knew the answer to that. Luck didn’t last, life wasn’t a fairy tale with happily ever afters abounding. If bravado always beat the odds, there would be no reason to it all. There was no reason, in any case. “Crap.”

Wearily pulling off his foggy sunglasses, Jack closed his eyes against the sunshine and passed his hand across them to clear the treacherous dampness. He sniffed once, slipped the shades back on and opened his eyes to stare at his feet. Sweat traced a path down the back and sides of his neck, tickling almost painfully. He shuddered, dropping his right hand on top of the abandoned hockey stick. Looking over to the street, he spotted the bright orange rubber ball he’d been using as a makeshift puck underneath his neighbor’s Dodge Caravan. He debated on whether or not to just leave it there.

Leave it, he decided. Clambering stiffly to his feet, Jack winced as his knees complained and his back crackled. He didn’t care. Emptiness within that he could never allow to be filled again. Nudging his toe in the space between the hockey stick and the pavement, he kicked it up into the air and caught it without enthusiasm. Just like his repeated mantra, using up all of his energy on making goal after goal hadn’t done a damn thing for him but remind him of how he and Charlie had talked about getting an SGC hockey league going – street for the spring, summer and fall, ice for the winter. Had talked about it for all of two days, before…God, two days! They hadn’t even got around to running the idea past Ferretti.

The air sucked out of his lungs at the thought of the still recuperating major; he wondered if anyone had notified the man that one of his good friends had died ‘in the line of duty’. His own selfish escapist behavior shamed him. He leaned heavily on the wooden stick, resting his forehead on the rough end and hoping it had been taken care of. Selfishness again. Sighing heavily, Jack straightened up and began the trek into the house with sick dread chilling his insides. It didn’t matter if General Hammond had already reported the news to Ferretti, he owed the only other survivor of the first Abydos mission a phone call. At the very least.

Crunching of tires on loose pebbles pulled his attention before his plodding feet had carried him halfway up the driveway. He looked up, confusedly eyeing the Air Force jeep slowly creeping along the curb in front of his house. It had the top up, windows dusty and smudged enough to prevent seeing exactly who was cursing him with his or her presence. He brushed his left hand across his cheeks one last time in an automatic gesture to remove any lingering evidence of his fit of unrestrained tears.

The passenger door opened, one Doctor Daniel Jackson scrambling out and turning to mumble something to the driver. Confusion shaded to suspicion, grew to anger. The jeep sped away before Daniel had even shut the door, as if it knew the reception the archaeologist was likely to gain. Smart. Jack didn’t want company, he wanted to be Alone. Obligation to Ferretti moved to the back burner as he glared once at the rumpled man at his curbside, then flung the hockey stick down and started stalking after the departing vehicle, his arms waving in an attempt to stop the driver. Didn’t want, didn’t want. Didn’t want Daniel butting into his space.

“Colonel, I don’t ha…” Daniel called after him, words breaking off.

He whirled, retracing his steps back toward his front yard. With every step, his anger grew and made his face twitch. Pulling up to his unwanted visitor, Jack studied him. Hands jammed deeply into his baggy khakis pockets, and hair hanging across his forehead, Daniel presented a picture of total meekness but he somehow knew blowing up at the other man would not get rid of him. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the archaeologist for several silent seconds, surprised when Daniel’s gaze didn’t shirk. Not meekness, caution.

“What are you doing here?”

The buried hands exhumed themselves, spreading placatively wide. Daniel blinked at him, expression rearranging from watchfulness to perplexity. Clearing his throat, the archaeologist said, “I’m staying in your guestroom.”

Nope. Not going to work. Like the void inside, his words bore no semblance of warmth, “You’re a lousy liar. That hasn’t been true, not for the past couple nights. The on-base quarters were fine then. They’re fine now.”

He turned his entire body, facing stolidly away. Shuffling commenced but he didn’t bite; the other man could shuffle a groove into the ground for all he cared. Daniel destroyed his tactic, slowly circling to stand directly in front of him. Clenching his jaw, Jack readied either for some type of attempted, suffocating sympathy or an argument. He didn’t really know Daniel all that well – and that was going to stay that way – but if he had to guess, he’d say the latter over the former was the likely weapon of choice for the civilian.

“Will you let me use your phone to call for a ride back to base?” Daniel quietly asked.

Blinking stupidly, Jack was disturbed both by the easy defeat and the odd surge of disappointment rising in his chest. The casual mention of the phone, though, re-accentuated his intended mission.

“Stay here. I’ll call for you. I have another…” He choked off his deadened voice, halting from giving Daniel more information than he really needed to know.

He didn’t even know why he’d nearly mentioned Ferretti at all. Darkness, terrible cold. Tell Ferretti and then get distance from everyone and everything. The only way. Spinning toward his front door, Jack paused as he passed the hockey stick, leaning down and scooping it up. Behind him, obediently still at the curb, Daniel cleared his throat.

“I, um, I just got back from Major Ferretti’s house, Colonel O’Neill.” There was an ocean of waves crashing in his ears, salt water stinging his eyes. “You don’t have to call him. He knows… and he’s rather upset.”

Upset, ya think? Fierce anger returned. No right, the guy had no right to do his job. Stopping in his tracks, Jack swallowed three times and tried to force his sight and hearing into a semblance of normality. His knuckles whitened around the wood and he thought he might be making indentations in it from his tight grip. He had an impulse to smash it onto the sidewalk, break it into tiny splinters. Apparently his need for physical release hadn’t been alleviated. At least he didn’t want to crack it over Daniel’s head.

“Is he,” he dully said.

“Yeah. He, uh, kind of kicked me out.”

“Did he.” Imagine that.

“I just… I didn’t think a phone call was appropriate.” Letting his chin drop to his chest, Jack gnawed at the flesh just to the inside left of his mouth. Daniel was oblivious of his regret, continuing on, “I mean, he and Major Kawalsky were good friends, weren’t they?”

“Yes.” Friends. There was the crux of the problem. He wondered if Ferretti had figured that out like he had. He would never know now, starting to walk again on legs stiff with tension. Ignoring another uncertain throat clearing from Daniel, he kept on. Didn’t mean to say anything else, but the word slipped from his lips again anyway, “Yes, they were.”

“Colonel…um, Jack?”

What? What was so difficult to understand about his rejection? The guy was starting to remind him of a nagging wife or a pestering… child. Ah, God, Charlie. Joining his stiff legs, his shoulders rigidified. He was mildly surprised it had taken so long to make the inevitable journey down that path; he’d never really correlated Kawalsky’s name to his son’s. He hadn’t even told Charlie about Charlie. It had never struck him odd in the least that he could rely on the men in his Special Ops team with his life, taking that connection for what it was and only that. No sharing, nothing much by way of personal closeness. Their relationship was… had been strong and good but limited by the rigors of military duty.

Charlie, Charlie. Buried though it was, the ferocity of heartache never lessened and when it fully surfaced it had the effect of stopping the world. Vast emptiness. He glanced at the hockey goal still leaning against his garage door. Thought of the games he would never have the chance to play with his son. Goddamnit, he didn’t need this now. His head swirled.

“Uhm…”

“What,” he stated, prompted into reluctant speech at last. Go away. Stop talking.

“If you wouldn’t, I mean, would you mind if I, uh, borrowed the hockey stick while I wait for someone to pick me up?”

Huh? For a second, Jack thought perhaps the archaeologist had some way to read his mind. He immediately dismissed the idea, because Daniel would never have lingered around if he had any clue whatsoever to Jack’s inner workings, the darkness there. Hell, Daniel was apparently inept at reading outer workings. The man never changed. He gritted his teeth together, wordlessly stretching his hockey stick bearing right hand backward and waited for the weight to shift before he released his hold. He walked away.

“Ball’s on the street,” he curtly called as an afterthought.

The coolness of the house as he stepped inside shocked with bracing strength but he welcomed it, and the relative darkness. Shutting the big door, he pressed his back into it. His shoulder blades dug into the vertical grooves, and he relished that sensation as well. Real, solid. Grounding. Jack took off his sunglasses, letting them drop to his chest and dangle from their cord. He stared at the phone for a second before moving toward it, hesitating. He didn’t know why. Outside, he heard wood intermittently scraping against asphalt, followed by effortful grunts. Veering from his path, he reflexively aimed for the long window adjacent to the door.

Through the wide-slatted blinds, he watched Daniel repeatedly hammer the blaze orange ball. The other man wasn’t a very good shot, missing two out of three times but the delivery of each was filled with concentrated fervor. Jack looked toward the phone. Daniel let out a particularly noisy grunt. When he moved his attention back to the driveway, he saw the younger man sitting on the ground, knees up, arms propped on them and head hanging. The ball was lying, abandoned, by the net. He opened the door and stood there. He shut it half way. Opened it again.

Then he was suddenly standing in front of Daniel. The archaeologist glanced up, squinting from the sun streaming into his eyes and the sweat gliding down his face. Startlement was clear even behind the narrowed lids, and Jack didn’t know which of them felt that way more. He blinked. What was he doing? Furrowing his eyebrows, he quickly put his sunglasses on and turned his back. Daniel coughed.

“Colonel?” Jack stopped. The rank sounded wrong coming from the archaeologist even though it was right. And it was right. Daniel continued, “Maybe you could, uh, show me how it’s done? I don’t seem to be much good at this.”

He turned around and stared at the upturned face, the startlement gone, hurt unveiled. Tangible pain. For some reason, the revealed emotion made anger spike again as if he felt his rights to grieve alone had been violated. Already, he found irritation an all too common occurrence when it came to Daniel. That he couldn’t seem to keep the other man from pushing his buttons, intentionally or unintentionally, only served to rile him up more. Fine. He’d show Daniel how to use a hockey stick properly. Then he’d get rid of him.

“Try to block me,” he ordered, stiltedly returning to Daniel’s side.

Picking up the stick, Jack waved impatiently at the goal. Daniel moved unquestioningly, scrambling to his feet and removing his jacket. Jack’s eyebrows automatically twitched; even if he couldn’t claim to know the younger man that well, he knew basic information. Like Daniel’s clearly independent, stubborn mind—when the man wanted something, he wouldn’t let up. And the tendency to think long and hard about an order before actually complying with it was already obvious as well. Aggravating, yet this strange compliance was more so. He retrieved the ball and began with a wicked shot that whizzed right through the archaeologist’s legs.

As when he had been alone, the activity seemed to pull all of his concentration, and he was soon firing shot after mindless shot. Daniel disappeared from his focus so much that Jack didn’t really register the younger man darting back and forth. He vaguely heard their grunts mingling in the air, a distortion of the typical stadium static at a hockey game. Instead of diminishing with every passing minute, his energy seemed to grow impossibly and each swing at the hard ball became more frenzied.

He was pissed.

At Charlie.

At Daniel.

At himself.

At life and death and everythingeverything.

Dull roaring drowned out all other sound, and sweat rained off of him in large droplets. Useless anger, useless means to deal with emotions he still couldn’t fully pin down. On and on it raged until his ears registered something other than the rushing blood, and it was enough to halt him with both arms still slightly raised from his last swing. Lucidity gained a foothold swiftly, eyes jarring back online in time to see Daniel crumpling to the ground even as the pained cry was swallowed by the thud of a body hitting pavement. The orange ball shimmied guiltily away, onto the street once again, where it skulked under another parked car. No, blame was his, not the inanimate object’s.

“Shit,” he muttered as he instinctively lunged for the fallen man.

Hurt seemed to follow him around like a puppy or a shadow. Daniel lay on his side, right cheek planted into the hard ground. Already forming brilliantly on the left half of his forehead, a red welt poked through the tumble of unruly hair. Jack thanked his lucky stars he apparently hadn’t hit directly on the man’s glasses, which were awkwardly askew. Eyes tightly shut, the archaeologist had his jaw clenched equally firmly as if to keep in an outcry. Waving his hands uselessly above Daniel, he hesitated, unsure how badly the other man was injured and whether moving him was a good idea.

At last, Daniel groaned, “Oh, this hurts.”

“Where, what?” Duh.

“Headache, big headache.”

“Open your eyes so I can check you out. You may have a concussion,” Jack ordered, putting his hands down at last, curling his fingers around Daniel’s bicep and shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“Daniel.”

“I am,” Daniel mumbled, opening his eyes and blearily looking up at him.

Pupils really were even, Jack discovered after a moment’s scrutiny, though he noted a slight abrasion on the right cheekbone. Shifting around from behind Daniel, he eased his left hand below the grounded shoulder and helped the other man sit up. The shirt below his hand was as soaked as his, the face streaming wet with sweat. He glanced at his watch, astonished to learn they’d been out here for another half an hour. His own breath came harshly, loud pants of which he immediately attempted to control. The air rasped from his nostrils, dragged back in. Daniel seemed to be having as much difficulty as he, and he was strangely glad. It only lasted a moment, then his eyes locked on the layer of clear ooze forming on the archaeologist’s scraped cheek.

He climbed to his feet, gracelessly pulling Daniel up as well. Swaying slightly, the other man seemed to pale under his flushed face, leaving two unnatural looking blotches on his cheeks. Jack frowned, instantly assessing the archaeologist’s condition more closely. The guy was under his command… and he looked like hell, dark circles obvious through the lenses of his glasses. Something in him twitched, partial irritation, partial concern. Partial irritation at the concern. He shut it down hard.

“Whatever. Come on,” Jack gruffly said, letting the hand he had half raised to lend aid fall. He wiped it down the front of his pant leg and started walking away. Insensitive SOB was an easy role to assume and believe. “Let’s clean up that cut.”

Stick to business. In fact, the guy could take care of his own injuries while he took care of something just as important—making the phone call he should have done earlier. He led Daniel to the kitchen, not the bathroom because that would have taken the other man too far into his home. Flapping his arm at the sink, Jack pivoted without waiting to see if his uninvited guest understood and left Daniel alone while he aimed for the telephone in the den. He heard the water initially hiss rapidly against the metal basin, and then tone down as the archaeologist got the stream under control. Soft murmurs and a muted intake of breath followed and he paused just outside the door.

Eavesdropping wasn’t his style, but he heard the names Sha’uri and Skaara and they adhered him to the floor more effectively than superglue. Rushing back into him in full force, compassion and regret filled the self-inflicted emptiness before he could stop it and his stomach iced over. No…no, he had to shove them away as well as erasing the thought of Skaara’s terrible fate from his mind. He didn’t need more torment. He needed Daniel gone. Five minutes ago. Trying to ignore the niggling question of why it was so vital to be alone or, more accurately, to be without Daniel Jackson’s company, Jack continued on to the den.

He made it all of five steps into the room when he was inexplicably thumped by a ghost image. Not of anything that would have made sense—his son or Charlie or so many friends lost to him. He saw Daniel, sitting uncomfortably in his armchair and fumbling a beer between his hands. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the nonsensical picture. He was losing it here. Jack ran an oddly shaky hand through his damp hair, wiping his palm down the front of his jeans. He needed a shower. Wash it all away.

Tugging his shirt from his waistband, Jack backed up a step and closed his eyes in the hopes the apparition would fade away by the time he opened them again. He was relieved when they were actualized, the Daniel image absent. Turning around, he pulled his shirt up further, elbows jutting up. He jerked in alarm at the appearance of a very solid Daniel, who was standing squarely in line with his jabbing right elbow. The other man’s eyes widened in recognition of what was about to happen, but neither of them could stop it.

“Oof,” Daniel exhaled as Jack attempted but failed to reclaim his elbow.

“Goddamnit,” Jack said and though he meant it to be apologetic, it came off as angry. Daniel stumbled back, bending slightly at the waist and wrapping his arms tightly across his chest. Another odd pang hit Jack’s insides. He looked away, swallowing a couple of times before he glanced back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Colonel O’Neill. I should have let you know I was coming. You just looked, um, you looked…”

Insane? Empty? Colonel O’Neill, Colonel O’Neill. The epithet sounded even more wrong now. Growling almost mutely in his throat, Jack swallowed the random, unsolicited feeling.

“Lost.”

Snapping his eyes up at the startlingly accurate description, Jack stared into vivid blue – made more vibrant than ever by unmitigated sorrow. Before, that emotion had incensed him. Now, it made him ill as he finally understand why Daniel had come over. The archaeologist knew what he was feeling. Jack didn’t know how, just that he was incredibly disturbed by it. Furrowing his eyebrows, he noted those blue eyes were rimmed in red. Jesus, had the guy been crying? He averted his gaze, but it was of no use since it skimmed off the bump on the other man’s forehead to the scrape on his cheek. Merely physical manifestations of pain and though Daniel seemed to uncannily understand him, he had no clue. He swallowed and studied the floor. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t.

“I don’t make friends easily,” Daniel murmured.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Don’t say it.

“I didn’t even know Major Kawalsky that well.”

Thunder in his ears. Stop, please.

“I guess it has a lot to do with the fact that he was on the initial trip to Abydos. I thought about you guys a lot, you know. Being back here after…” There was a long pause, then Daniel continued in a thick voice, “…after what happened to Sha’uri and Skaara is surreal. Ferretti, Kawalsky and you are the only things familiar. Were. Without you, I don’t know…”

Jack wearily staggered to the sofa and sank heavily onto it as Daniel trailed off with a loud swallow. Shit. The hardened layer he’d worked so hard to construct became saturated like a crust of bread in water and he knew he was in trouble. Big. Covering his forehead with his clammy left hand, he closed his eyes and listened to Daniel shift on his feet. Back and forth, uncertain and needing. He couldn’t give, he couldn’t.

He was too late. He already had.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Daniel in baggy Air Force coveralls, sitting in his armchair and reaching out. It all went back to the fact that the man standing in his den knew him; had seen through the coldness on Abydos and was seeing through it now. Choking out a sobbing laugh, he flopped back into a half sprawl. Shuffling feet stopped, there was a noisy inhalation and then the feet moved again. Away from him, and quickly. He jerked his hand off his forehead and sat up just in time to see Daniel’s retreating figure darting through the door.

“Daniel!” The younger man’s fast pace didn’t falter. “Daniel, wait, stop!”

The irony that he was now trying to stop Daniel from leaving was not lost on him. Protesting, overused muscles twinged as he lunged for the other man, snaring an elbow tightly and arresting him in his tracks. He kept his hand in place, swinging around to stand in front of the archaeologist and trying to gain eye contact. Pulling his arm out of Jack’s grip, Daniel assumed what was quickly becoming a trend in posture. He furrowed his eyebrows. Big trouble. He looked at the silent man in front of him, watched his chest rise and fall rapidly with agitation and, he assumed, hurt. He was a bastard.

After a minute of waiting for Daniel to look at him, Jack replaced his hand from where it had been removed, wrapping his fingers around so they were pressed between sharp elbow and ribs. Daniel twitched slightly but didn’t resist the touch. Tentatively, he strengthened his grip once and then relaxed. He hoped it said what he wanted it to – I’m sorry, thank you, I understand. He did understand that Daniel had not only lost a friend, he’d lost a link to his wife, his brother. He had been wrong, he realized with twenty-twenty hindsight that Ferretti wasn’t the only other survivor from Abydos; there was this man whom he’d treated so poorly. Already a friend, and not just because of shared experiences. He reached up his other hand, running his index and middle fingers lightly on the reddened bump on Daniel’s forehead. The archaeologist reactively looked up at last, eyes flitting quickly to his face and then just as quickly away.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m being an asshole, but that wasn’t what you thought,” he rambled, past the point of caring how rattled he was. “It wasn’t.”

His wandering words earned him another cautious glance, enough for him to see doubt and he knew the question was coming.

“Then what was it?”

What was it? What was it about Daniel that got under his skin and irritated him so? No, irritated wasn’t the right word. It was more that the archaeologist was passionate and stubborn – completely the opposite of him in method and so much like him in ideals. Theirs was going to be a friendship with frightening depth. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it, definitely didn’t want it. But it was, nonetheless.

“I miss Charlie.”

Whoa, not what he meant to say.

“I know you do.”

That’s all Daniel said. He didn’t elaborate with trite comments on how Charlie had been a good man…and how Charlie had been a beautiful son and that it was okay to miss them, like most people would have done. Ineptly and improperly. And for his…friend’s understanding, Jack was grateful. He squeezed Daniel’s elbow again and realized that vowing to isolate himself was like a child crying for the moon, an impossibility. Only in his case, denying friendship would not have brought him happiness and his wish had not been filled with hope.

They stood there, in a pose that should have been embarrassing, for a long moment before something akin to guilt flashed across Daniel’s face. Withdrawing his hand, Jack raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry.

“I’ll miss Kawalsky as a friend,” Daniel whispered, planting his eyes just to the right of Jack’s shoulder. “But there’s a selfish part of me that is scared that there now is one less person to help find Sha’uri. And Skaara.”

“I know,” Jack replied. “I know.”

“How am I going to find her, Colonel? Find them?”

“You’re not… we are, remember?” Daniel relaxed and gave him what he thought was meant to be a smile, though it wavered. He scowled at the wound on the other man’s cheek. Vaguely pointing his finger at it, Jack murmured, “Sorry about before.”

“It’s… it’s okay. I think you needed it.”

He had needed a lot of things, apparently.

“Come on, let’s get some Neosporin on that so you don’t scar.”

Daniel looked puzzled as he asked, “But won’t my ride be here soon?”

“Don’t worry about it. I never called the Mountain.”

Jack tried to casually brush off that tidbit of information. It didn’t work, and Daniel upgraded the weak smile into a full, relieved one. Leading the younger man through his house, toward the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, he wondered at his own one hundred eighty degree turnaround and enjoyed the footfalls scuffling behind him. He had been foolish to desire aloneness; life was worth living when surrounded by friends and instead of pushing people away, he’d draw them in…and make sure nothing happened to them.

“And Daniel?” he queried, turning around to smile at the archaeologist.

“Yes?”

“Call me Jack.”

Never again. Never again.

Jack angrily swung and missed the ball, whiffing the air. It reminded him of the last time he had set up the hockey goal in the driveway, the day on which he made a grave mistake. Through some stroke of chance, Daniel Jackson had shown up that day and had convinced him isolation was not the answer. He had let the archaeologist in, and was starting to let his other two team members into his inner circle. Had been letting. No more.

“He said, ‘Colonel, help me, please’ and then he was gone, sir.”

Those weren’t the words Daniel had screamed and he had thought detaching himself would help get through the debriefing. It hadn’t, because Daniel hadn’t called for the colonel, he had called for his friend Jack. No matter what he did, he couldn’t forget that or the blatant agony his friend Daniel had endured the last moments of his life. Jack choked and swung at the ball again, wanting to scream with as much agony raging in his soul as had Daniel. One last demonstration before he closed himself off.

The sun beat down on him, and he felt the sweat gliding down his chest and back. But he was cold. Already lost, no release in scream or frenetic activity. He needed to be away from it all. No more SGC. No more Air Force. Retire for good, go to the cabin and stay where he couldn’t hurt anyone and no one could hurt him. He hit the ball again, swing cramped by an innocuous ice blue Ford Taurus in his driveway. Rage attempted rebirth, and Jack smashed the driver’s side window with his hockey stick.

“Can someone get this damn car outta here?” he bellowed.

Never again.

Daniel was dead and his loss would be the last Jack would have to bear.

The End