The politician used a pencil to move the vial of liquid on his desk, his eyes thoughtful. "Are you sure this will work?" he asked slowly. " We have, after all, tried before and failed dismally."

" This time we won’t fail sir," the scientist said, his face hard. " This is my own mixture." He smiled thinly. " My ultimate revenge if you like."

The politician looked up, pleased. " How does it work?" he asked.

The scientist smiled. " Well, it’s essentially a bacterial meningitis, a mixture of Haemophilius influenzae type B, Neisseria meningitidis, and Streptococcus pneumoniae, and once you…"

The politician waved his hand impatiently, cutting the scientist off.

" Does it work?" he snapped.

The scientist nodded, annoyed. " It works. Essentially, what happens is that the victim becomes immediately subject to a severe headache, not unlike a migraine. This incapacitates him to such a degree that there is little or no resistance to the continued assault on his central nervous system, eventually causing death."

The politician leaned back in his chair, smiling. " And how long will it take before the…target succumbs?"

The scientist shuffled his feet, uncertain, something that the politician noticed.

" How long?" he asked silkily.

" At least a day, maybe two if the subject is in good health."

" He is in good health darn it," the politician whispered.

" Nevertheless, we’ll proceed anyway."

The scientist nodded, pleased. " A good decision sir."

"Don’t pamper me," the politician snapped. " I have just as many reasons to remove this man as you do. As it is, he is due for a couple of days down time, or whatever they call it, which coincides nicely with our plans."

The scientist smiled thinly. " Good."

" How are you going to get close to him? He is, after all, highly trained."

" Indeed he is sir, and I have made plans accordingly."

" Oh?" the politician said, prompting him.

"The target has this thing for his garden, an unusual habit for a man of action, but one that suits us admirably. He is alone this weekend. His team has other plans. This again suits us admirably."

" Good for you," the politician said impatiently, " but you still haven’t answered my original question. How are you going to get close to him?"

The scientist’s smile became a grin. " I’m not. I have hired a reliable man to shoot a tranquilizer dart at the target." His smile became a smirk. "Of course, the dart won’t contain a tranquilizer…"

The politician’s eyes gleamed. " What are the chances of the target managing to call for help?"

" Very slight indeed sir. One of the first symptoms, besides the headache, is a total aversion to light. If we get him outside, in the sunshine, he’s as good as dead."

" Do it."

" Yes sir."

11111

Jack O’Neill sat comfortably in a chair on his observation deck listening rapturously to the latest CD by Quentin Novac, marveling once again on how a Serb could sing in such flawless Italian. When the tenor successfully drew a complicated piece of music to a successful close, he sighed, taking a large gulp of beer.

Stretching luxuriously in the sunshine, he closed his eyes and allowed the next piece of music sooth his soul, feeling the first tendrils of sleep reach out for him. At that moment in time, he had not a care in the world, which was why the sudden violent punch to his arm came as a complete surprise.

The impact was huge, sending his body flying out of his chair, taking the small wooden table on which his beer sat down with him, everything crashing to the floor with a smash he swore would wake the dead.

For a moment Jack thought that it was Teal’c playing a cruel practical joke, a thought instantly dispelled as a ferocious headache sent him curling up on himself with a moan.

Gasping in pain, his eyes tightly shut; Jack knew that he was in deep trouble.

Whimpering quietly to himself, he searched through the sticky debris where he lay, heedless of the numerous cuts his hands were getting from the broken beer bottle. He needed help, and fast. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he had been deliberately targeted, although with what was a mystery.

Finally, his shaking hands found the remote telephone, blessing his foresight on bringing it with him. Taking a deep calming breath he punched out a familiar number, a number he knew by heart, only to no longer have the strength to raise the phone to his ear.

All he could do was clutch it to his chest and pray.

He was still praying when the darkness took him moments later.

11111

"Is it done?" the politician asked.

" It is sir," the scientist said, still pale faced by the spectacular manner in which the darts impact had sent the vic…targets body flying.

" He tried to call someone on the phone, but just didn’t have enough time to do so before the first symptoms hit."

" Are you sure?" the politician asked dangerously.

" I’m sure."

11111

Major Samantha Carter was enjoying the sunshine and the rare company of her father when her cell phone rang, making her reach for her handbag with an irritated scowl.

"Sorry about that dad," she said apologetically. " I meant to turn it off, but forgot."

" Don’t worry about it kiddo," Jacob said indulgently, leaning back with a smile. " We’re just waiting for the coffees anyway, so go ahead."

Smiling her apologies to the other patrons in the open-air restaurant, Sam pressed the on button and raised the phone to her ear.

" Hello?"

All she heard was a strange whimpering sound.

"Hello?" She asked again, feeling the hairs at the back of her neck rise.

This time there was nothing but heavy breathing.

" This isn’t funny," she snapped, disconnecting angrily and throwing the phone back in her bag.

Her father looked at her with raised eyebrows. " You look upset," he enquired lightly. "Something I should know about?"

Sam smiled at him, pleased to have him back on earth, if only for a little while. "Nah," she said, trying to make light of it. "Probably a crank call."

Jacob frowned. " To a cell phone? Isn’t that a bit unusual? I may be a bit behind the times, but surely people aren’t dumb enough to do crank calls to cell phones where their own phone numbers are clearly visible?"

Sam smile dimmed. " Not usually, no."

" So you don’t recognize the number?" Jacob asked, nodding his thanks to the waiter as he delivered the coffee.

" I never looked," she said guiltily.

She reached for the phone again then gasped softly. " Oh God dad, that wasn’t a crank call." She mutely gave her father the phone, allowing him to see the number on the screen.

" Isn’t that O’Neill’s number?" he asked, surprised. " Why would he…?"

" He wouldn’t," she said, rising to her feet, her phone firmly pressed to her ear. " He isn’t answering," she said worriedly as Jacob paid the puzzled waiter.

" He may have the phone off the hook, having not put it back after calling you," Jacob said calmly, steering her firmly to her car. " Tell you what, let’s call the base and have a couple of SF’s mosey on round to his house, just in case."

" And Janet," Sam said, feeling cold. " I can’t be sure, but I think that I heard …something bad."

11111

Jack O’Neill knew that he was dying. Strangely enough, it didn’t seem so bad. There were worse ways to go than lying in the sunshine listening to a good tenor do his thing.

The problem was, each note was beginning to sound distorted, the music beginning to echo around inside his skull, making his headache worse. Deep down he knew that Novac was singing something he really liked, something he knew off by heart and could easily sing along to, only now it seemed…off, the song dissolving into a cacophony of white noise in places.

When it did that, the moment it did that, he found himself struggling to breathe, as if his life and Novac’s song were somehow intertwined.

Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He had to hit repeat on the CD player. If he could do that, he was safe. If the song ended, then he was dead.

Moaning and whimpering, he blindly reached forwards with his one hand, aware that his right bicep was aching abominably. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered apart from the music. He had to get to the music.

Inch by inch Jack O’Neill began to drag his unresponsive body towards his lounge, unaware of emotionless eyes following his every move. The eyes belonged to a heavy set man sitting in a non descript van across the street.

Lighting yet another cigarette, the mercenary dialed the scientist.

11111

" Thank you." Clicking the phone shut Jacob turned his head to look at his daughter, seeing the tension on her face as she wrestled her car around another corner, tires screeching.

" Janet and Teal’c are on their way to Colonel O’Neill’s house as we speak, along with a couple of special Forces soldiers, just in case." He cringed as she threw her compact around yet another unsuspecting driver that had been in their way. "Sam please, Selmac gets car sick," he warned, trying to get her to slow down.

" Tough," she gritted. " Tell him to hold on. We’ll be there in five."

11111

" It’s perfectly normal," the scientist said, his voice smooth, cloying.

" He is dying. If you know anything about the behavior of mortally wounded animals, then you should recognize the symptoms. He’s just looking for a place to hide, out of the sunshine, and that is indoors. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be dead soon enough."

Muttering angrily the mercenary terminated the call.

Sanctimonious little prick, who in the hell did he think he was? He had seen animals die before. Hell, he had seen people die before, and never, ever, had they displayed the steely determination evident on the face of this target. He raised the binoculars again, watching closely as the man determinedly dragged himself towards the door leading to inside the pretty house, flecks of vomit now evident on his lips.

The mercenary had an idea that the man might no longer be conscious, that he may be moving his body by instinct and sheer guts alone. If he was, then his strength was phenomenal, deserving of a tribute.

" Here’s to you, Colonel," he said, pulling the tab on a beer. " Here’s to you, you poor son of a bitch."

He had taken two deep chugs when the first car arrived.

" What the?"

Beer forgotten, he sat upright, watching closely as a gray haired man and a blond bunny rushed up to the front door and began pounding on it furiously. Suddenly he knew what had happened. The man had indeed managed to phone someone, despite the scientist’s reassurances to the contrary, and those someone’s had now arrived.

Smiling grimly at the sound of a rapidly approaching siren, the mercenary started the van and pulled away from the curb, wishing the determined man all the luck in the world, what little there was of it.

What he did wasn’t personal. It was never personal. It was just business.

11111

Sam was still pounding on the door when Selmac decided to lend a hand.

"Samantha, desist," he said quietly. When she eventually did, he quickly punched a fist through the solid oak door, calmly unlocking it from the inside.

"If this was a joke he played on you, Samantha, then may the destruction of his property be a lesson to him," he said, his expression so different to Jacobs own. She would have answered but just then, a wailing ambulance arrived, screeching to a halt in the neatly tended flowerbed in front of the Colonel’s lounge.

" Sam?"

A petite brown haired doctor leapt out of the front of the ambulance. "Sam, what happened?"

She shook her head. " Nothing yet." She rapidly told the SGC’s chief medical officer all she knew, finishing as a humvee pulled neatly into a space vacated by a brown van on the opposite side of the road.

" Okay," Janet said quickly. " We’ll just…"

"… Wait for the SF’s to secure the house before you do anything," Jacob Carter said smoothly, command evident in his voice. "Teal’c, go with them."

The Jaffa nodded briefly and ran for the door, two heavily armed SF’s at his heels.

Five minutes later, he hurried back, his face serious.

" Dr Fraiser," he intoned. " Your skills are urgently required."

11111

The voice was familiar, but so distant to be almost unrecognizable, coming and going like waves on a poorly tuned radio. He became aware of someone supporting him, talking to him soothingly, fingers massaging his stiff neck. Then her perfume wrapped itself around him comfortably and he knew for certain who was at his side. There was only one person he knew that wore that distinctive perfume, eau de doc.

" Colonel, can you hear me?"

He tried. He really did, but all he could do was make inarticulate moaning sounds, making her shush him gently.

He wanted to talk to her, he really did. He wanted her to sort out his headache, switch out the light, and straighten his legs that were cramping so badly. He wanted her to give him some water to moisten his dry mouth and tell him that this was all just a bad dream.

However, all he could do was make disjointed words, words that made no sense at all, frustrating him no end.

He must have drifted for a while, off on some mental trip, because when he returned he was someplace new, a place full of vibration. A terrible place resonating with a howling wail that invaded his head, threatening to burst it. To make things worse, something was covering his mouth, a soft hiss by his side soon joining the wail inside his head, making him weep unashamedly.

Then soft muttered words were heard, making the wail stop, allowing him to drift off again where nothing and nobody could harm him.

11111

They came for her and Jacob ten minutes later.

Three serious people dressed in orange protective suits came into the infirmary and politely and firmly herded them into iso-room two, the room next to where Jack O’Neill lay still and silent, his eyes taped shut and connected to more machines that Sam had ever seen before in her life.

No less than five minutes later Teal’c and the two Special Forces soldiers he had led whilst searching for O’Neill had joined them, making the room hot and cramped.

When Daniel finally arrived back from wherever he had been, appearing on the other side of the protective glass with a concerned look on his face, Sam almost cried.

Almost, but not quite.

" Daniel?" she asked. " Do you mind telling us what in blue blazes is happening to us?"

It felt refreshing to yell at someone.

He now looked like the one who was about to cry, making her feel like a heel.

" It’s meningitis Sam," he said, his eyes wide in a pale face. " You know what that means."

"Oh God," she said, raising her hand to her mouth. She did indeed know what that meant.

" Well we don’t," said an obviously disgruntled Selmac. "Furthermore, I scarcely see why the SGC would even bother keeping a Tok’ra and a Jaffa in here in the first place. Whatever it is, we are in no danger of catching it."

Sam sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to keep her raw emotions under control.

" Selmac," she said slowly. " Listen to me. Colonel O’Neill has somehow been infected with meningitis, a highly infectious disease. The minute Doctor Fraiser found that out she immediately rounded up everyone and everything that Jack had been in contact with, including us."

Daniel nodded, his voice tinny through the small speaker. " That’s right Sam. Janet is at present back at Jack’s house, removing anything that could be construed as infectious, and bringing them here to be incinerated. She has asked me to tell you that your clothes will have to go as well." He took a deep gulp of air, aware of five pairs of eyes staring at him intently.

" What General Hammond has proposed to do is take you through a full decontamination routine, his theory being that when they are finished, you will no longer be infectious on the outside." He hesitated. " Of course, once the decontamination procedure is done, you’ll all have to move into iso-room three, just in case the disease has spread to you anyway." He hesitated. " That’s besides Selmac and Teal’c, of course."

" What are the chances of that happening?" Sam asked, aware of people setting up the decontamination units they all had at one time or another all had to use.

" Slim to none," Daniel said promptly, making the SF’s sag in relief. " This is just a precaution, a worse case scenario." He pointed to O’Neill. " Jack is the one who’s really in trouble, not you. His blood work and spinal fluid shows that he has…staphlo…"

" Staphylococcal meningitis," a tired voice said. " Which means we really have our work cut out for us."

" Janet," Sam said, watching as the tiny suited figure of the SGC’s doctor made her way into iso-room one. " How is he?"

" Very critical," her metallic voice said, "but holding his own." She pointed to a massive bruise on his upper arm. " From the looks of it he was shot with some sort of dart, introducing the disease into his system. It was a very elaborate way to try to kill a man, nevertheless, it would have worked if his phone hadn’t been so close."

"And now?" Daniel asked from the observation room.

" Now we wait. We have him on intensive doses of antibiotics and sulphonamide drugs given via his drip." She shrugged, her suit moving slightly. " The next twenty four hours will tell us if we got to him quickly enough to save his life or not."

" Oh God, I hope so," Sam said, trading a look with Daniel. " Dear God, I really hope so."

11111

" He may yet die," the scientist said, a vicious look on his face. " There is only so much their CMO can do. After that, it is entirely up to the patient."

" You have failed," the politician said darkly, " No matter how you put it, it all boils down to this." He leaned forwards in his chair, carefully shifting the leather bound bible out of his way, and folded his arms.

" I should never have listened to you," he said slowly. " I should rather have had your mercenary use a bullet. He would have been dead then."

" You wanted him to suffer," the scientist said patiently. " A bullet would have been quick, clean. At least this way he is indeed, suffering."

" There is that," the politician said, smiling. " At least I have that."

11111

" Is there still no change?"

Daniel turned and smiled at a freshly scrubbed Samantha Carter, waving casually at an equally as scrubbed Jacob and Teal’c.

" No," he said, serious again as they found themselves chairs. " Although Janet insists that this is actually a good sign."

" It is?" Sam asked doubtfully. For a moment she just sat and watched as two masked nurses bustled around O’Neill, doing God alone knew what.

" At least they no longer have to wear those space suits," she said at last. " I definitely didn’t want him to wake up and see that."

" Do they know who did this to him?" Jacob Carter asked, sounding every inch the General he used to be.

" Not yet Jacob," a familiar Texan voice said. " All we have so far is tiny bits and pieces of evidence." General Hammond sat down in a convenient chair with a groan, looking tired. " Jack’s neighbor, a Mrs. Mc Callum saw a brown van parked outside her house that looked suspicious, but that was it. Apart from that, no one saw anything. Of course, it was during the day, and most people were at work, which didn’t help much.

" So now what?" Daniel asked.

" Now we wait," Hammond said. " Of course, your mission to JG6 CD7 that was scheduled for tomorrow has been scrapped."

" Of course sir," Sam said absently, watching as a nurse lifted one limp hand, then wincing at the sight of the tube attached to the back of it.

" Twenty four hours," Daniel said, touching her hand lightly, trading grim looks with Teal’c. " Less now."

"O’Neill is a warrior next to none," Teal’c said calmly. " This is just one more battle that he is destined to win."

" I hope you’re right Teal’c," Hammond said softly. " I really hope you’re right."

11111

He became aware of the smell first. A distinctive smell of bleach and…something else.

Okay, so he was back at the SGC, in the infirmary. Maybe. The smell seemed right, but the sounds did not. They seemed muffled.

The headache came without warning, roaring out of nowhere, making him stiffen. He tried to cry out, only to have his tongue feel something hard and unyielding in his mouth, preventing him from doing so.

Desperately he tried to move, to open his eyes, only to find he could do neither. He started to panic, the sound of his heartbeat echoing loudly in his skull.

Then he felt a soothing hand on his brow, pushing his hair back in a hypnotic rhythm.

Somehow, the tactile touch helped, making him relax, making the headache recede, and allowing him to sleep again.

11111

The scientist looked upset, almost as upset as the politician.

" Our informants tell me that he had a setback last night sir, a severe one. Unfortunately that Doctor Fraiser has hardly left his side, and she was able to find the right mix of drugs in time to save his life."

The politician grunted, running a hand through his sandy hair.

" And now?" he asked.

" Now it looks like the worst is over," the scientist said bitterly. "Now it looks like the subject may survive, despite the odds stacked against him."

" He always was a stubborn bastard," the politician said with a grimace. " So be it," he said, rising and ushering the scientist to the door. " Thank you for your help," he said pleasantly, aware that his secretary was looking up. " We’ll just have to try another method next time."

The scientist shook his hand. " Sorry it didn’t work out, senator. Hopefully next time I can be of more use to you."

Senator Kinsey smiled. " Oh, I’m sure that I can find a use for you some day," he murmured. "Of that I’m very sure."

11111

For the first time in a very long time, Jack O’Neill lay without pain. Nothing hurt. Absolutely nothing.

He lay there, feeling as if he were floating, and listened to his team talking quietly to themselves. At first, their voices were incomprehensible, as if they were speaking Greek, and he had to content himself with listening to their different pitch of voices. Despite this, he was happy, content to know that whatever had happened, had happened to him alone.

Carter was there, her soft voice talking to Janet, Janet’s southern twang answering her occasionally. Daniel was there too, interrupting on occasion, sounding anxious.

Teal’c was there too. He never spoke; nevertheless, Jack knew he was there anyway. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

After a while, a veil lifted, allowing him to understand what they were saying, and he shifted, moaning slightly.

" Colonel?" Janet’s voice asked. A cool hand touched his forehead. " You in there?"

He tried to answer her, forming the words as he tried to open his eyes, but nothing seemed to work.

…

" Daniel, get the lights," Fraiser said softly, as she pushed a shard of ice between the Colonel’s slack lips. She was gratified to see the man suck on it greedily.

" Colonel? Can you open your eyes?" she asked softly, staring at him in the near gloom.

" Please?"

" ‘Kay," a slurred voice whispered, and she was rewarded with a pair of glazed deep brown eyes.

" Oh, thank the Lord," she said, collapsing into the nearest chair in relief, making the rest of SG1 stare at her curiously.

" Janet?" Daniel asked. " You okay?"

" I am now," she said, trading a dark look with her head nurse. " At one point last night I was really worried that he would never wake up again."

" I…okay…what?" They all smiled at O’Neill, who was staring at them vaguely.

" You’re in the SGC," Janet said slowly. " You’re okay, and your team’s okay. They will have to leave you now, but Teal’c will stay. Okay?"

She wasn’t entirely sure that he understood what she said; his eyes were still too dim for her to tell. Nevertheless, as she started to herd Sam and Daniel towards the door, his voice stopped her.

" Where…going?"

" They can’t stay with you just yet," she said gently. " You’ll see them when you’re better, okay?" She spoke down to him, as if he was a small child, feeling pleased when he nodded slightly.

" …Kay."

11111

" Check mate," Teal’c said, smiling wolfishly at his companion, pleased to see O’Neill glare at him.

" That wasn’t fair," he muttered angrily. " How was I to know that the little green stone moved sideways like that? If I had known, I would have changed my strategy."

" You have played Fahmat before, O’Neill, Teal’c said patiently. " You have just forgotten."

" I seem to have forgotten a lot recently, O’Neill said, pushing away the Chulacan chessboard irritably. " I’m beginning to wonder what else is gonna sneak up on me and bite me in the butt."

" You’re just overreacting," Dr Fraiser said, pointedly ignoring Teal’c’s confused frown. "Everything will come back to you eventually. It just takes time."

She took his wrist, pleased to see that he was looking brighter than he had in days. He hadn’t got to the complaining stage yet, but that was just a matter of time. She was also pleased to find out that the latest spinal tap had found him free of the disease.

" I don’t want to take my time," he muttered petulantly. " I want to remember who did this to me, and for that I need to get the hell out of here."

She smiled. " Well as to getting out of here, I can oblige. But," she said as he brightened, "only as far as the infirmary."

" Can’t I go home?" he asked wearily. " Teal’c can guard me."

She shook her head firmly. " I’m afraid not Colonel. Besides, the MP’s say that you were shot from quite a distance away. They could use a bullet next time, and how would Teal’c protect you from that?"

She smiled at her special patient, marveling that he had pulled through so well. He was still as weak as a kitten, with deep hollows under his eyes, but besides that, he was coming along in leaps and bounds. Apart from his memory. His total lack of memory about the incident really bothered him.

…

" What was the last thing you remember?" Daniel asked a day later.

" Giving Lieutenant Salazar KP duty for uncalled for racist remarks," O’Neill said slowly, idly picking at a thread in his blanket. The infirmary was still the last place he wanted to be, but compared to the isolation room, he’d take it any day.

" Oh, so that’s what happened to him," Carter said with a smile. " I had wondered."

" And when was this?" Daniel asked, bringing them back on track.

" Just after lunch," Jack said slowly. " I remember eating mystery chicken whilst finishing off my report on L8G R14, when he disturbed my concentration in a big way. Once I had sorted him out, I recall deciding that the rest of lunch wasn’t worth returning to."

He frowned, trembling slightly in concentration, prompting Dr Fraiser to glare at Daniel.

"After that it gets a bit hazy. I recall I was sitting in the sunshine somewhere, feeling relaxed, and…" he shrugged helplessly. "That’s it."

" Major Rachel Simon says that your assailant was in a Tau’ri vehicle," Teal’c said, his ebony face grave. " Besides that they have no guides."

" Leads, Teal’c, not guides," O’Neill said absently, making Fraiser marvel at the ease in which he corrected his friend. " I think that they aren’t going to find any either." He shifted, looking unhappy.

" I think that I am gonna have to face two things here." He stared at the rest of SG 1, pleased to have their full attention.

" Thing number one is the fact that I may never remember what happened to me," he said, surprising Dr Fraiser.

" Anymore than I remember hitting the ground and fracturing my skull when I...when my parachute and reserve failed to open many years ago. I didn’t like it any more then than I do now, but may have to accept it."

" And the second thing?" Carter asked gently when he was silent for a while.

" The second thing I have to accept is that I have a mortal enemy out there, one that seems to take great delight in seeing me suffer." He fell silent again, his eyes distant.

" All I can do is live my life just that little bit more carefully from now on," he said eventually, " and hope that if my would be assassin is going to try again, I manage to see, and stop him in time."

His eyes sharpened and settled on his uneasy team, tiny imps of mischief beginning to dance deep inside. " But that’s tomorrows problem. Today I have a more pressing problem, like how to get down to the canteen for some ice cream without Doc Fraiser trying to sedate me." He held up his finger like inspiration had just struck." Oh, I have a good idea. Why don’t we just jump her when she’s not looking and tie her up?"

Janet Fraiser threw her hands into the air with a laugh, pleased at his attempt to diffuse the tension in the air.

" Go," she said, surprising them all. " Just go." She pushed a wheelchair towards Teal’c, hoping that they couldn’t read through her expression, knowing just as well as they did what the Colonel was proposing.

" You are one magnificent man," she whispered to herself when their sniggers disappeared out of earshot. She knew as well as SG1 did that Colonel O’Neill proposed to recuperate fully and then set himself up as bait.

Deep in her heart she knew it there was no other way, that he couldn’t live the rest of his life wrapped in cotton wool, but still…Christ, it was dangerous.

" I’m pretty sure that God protects fools and little children," she murmured eventually, " so you should be doubly protected."

Sighing, she made her way through the now silent infirmary towards her office, trying hard to shake off a feeling of deep foreboding.

* EINDE

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