Title: Waterworld Author: JoleneB  Beta: CiGiK Date of Completion: 25 April 2004

E-Mail: jbuttolph@hotmail.com or JoleneB1953@yahoo.com  Category: whomp, action/adventure

Warnings: Language, graphic torture, extreme emotional distress (akin to mental illness), sappyness

Pairing: none (lots of friends) Season: Two, just before ‘1969’

Spoilers: CotG, Solitudes, A Matter of Time, Show and Tell, Fire and Water, Fifth Race, Need, The First Commandment and faint shadows of the future

Rating: PG 16 (torture and mental duress)

Summary: SG-1 is still forming bonds, and discovering just what makes each other tick. Finding their glue to be Jack and it’s been a tough year for Jack, but it doesn’t show until he feels happier. Then he falls into deep water…

Hosting: Jackfic.com, The African Stargate - others are welcome, please inform.

Disclaimer: I do profess to my profound regret that I have no rights to Stargate SG-1 (except to enjoy). The concept and characters belong to SciFi Channel, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions… ad infinitum.

Authors Notes: Not 'Waterworld' as in Costner’s 'Waterworld', but Waterworld as in the place between home and work where I tried to buy my first sailboat only to discover they only handled Bayliners. Buying a sailboat is very much like buying an antique car.

Feedback: Correction of facts and fantasy are welcome, I really don’t know it all. Please, please tell me your likes and dislikes.

Dedication: To Colin and Denise of the African Stargate who went on my wild ride though this breach birth. And <as> with any birth many hands accomplish it. Thank you.

His eyes are for Dinkydow, in a poor exchange for the whacks. We both have succeeded in hauling Jack’s ass out of the fire.

‘Shit!’

Day suddenly becomes night, a very wet night, water shoots up my nose as my eyes automatically shut out the dim watery green darkness. My arms stretch upward through the cold liquid above my head reaching for the now obscured sky. I choke on the water I sucked in before I could get my mouth closed and my sodden clothing is pulling me down. I have to remind myself to kick my legs to counteract my sinking. Bubbles escape my mouth as I churn the water in my sudden unplanned trip into waterworld.

I push down my body’s natural panic and kick harder with my legs, pushing for the surface. I think my hands are out of the water, but I can’t be sure. They feel wet but they also feel colder, could they be in the air now? Yes, I feel a breeze; my hands have broken the surface.

I am rudely jerked straight up to join my hands in the now cold air and dropped, hard, unto a flat surface.

Sputtering and spitting water, I try to clear my eyes by squeegeeing them with my dripping hands, gasping air into my startled lungs.

"O’Neill?"

"Yeah." I cough out as I try to squint up into the now too-bright light towards the voice.

"Are we under attack?"

‘Attack?’ Wiping more water from my eyes, I swivel around a bit and focus my eyes upward. The voice’s owner is a tall, heavily muscled, dark skinned man, wearing a yellow knit hat low on his brow. He has a young man practically in the air, holding him there, one hand around his throat. The kid is holding onto the massive arm he is suspended from with both hands looking scared.

‘Double shit!’

The wind blowing across the lake is cold against my wet skin as I scoot around further, bringing a leg up unto the wooden dock in the process. I want full eye contact; I brace myself with an arm and look up, up…

"Teal’c, it’s okay. They aren’t trying to hurt anyone. It’s just tradition… uh, customary… It’s just what the guys who lose do to the guys who win. Okay?" I gave him a little smile and my most earnest expression.

He turns to look at the kid as he lowers him, then swivels back to look at me. I can’t decipher his expression; I smile a little broader and shrug my shoulders encouragingly. He slowly releases his hold and the kid sags a bit as he gains a more solid footing on the damp sun-grayed planking. Teal’c turns his attention back to the kid and begins to speak.

"Please forgive me. I am unfamiliar with this sport’s customs." Teal’c inclines his head minutely, his hands now hidden, clasped behind his back.

I still can’t get a read on Teal’c, he can be like a blank slate sometimes. Why… Why isn’t he covered in goosebumps? He has more skin exposed than I do; he’s in shorts and a sleeveless tee, both in pale yellow!

I have no idea where he ever found canvas deck shoes to match, Cassie probably had something to do with the whole ‘ensemble,’ I’ll have to talk to that girl. Teal’c is not a dress up doll. He’s even sporting bright yellow-framed wraparounds on a bright yellow cord…

Crap!

I pat myself down without taking my eyes from Teal’c and the kid. ‘Sunglasses, were are my sunglasses, the damn things cost me a small fortune.’ My fingers catch at a cord stretched tight across my throat, pulling at it my glasses pop up to the back of my neck. ‘Thank god.’

‘Just listen to this kid, he’s no problem, never see him again, nope never.’

"Sure… I can understand what it must have looked like. I’m not hurt. No foul, no goal. I… I think I’ll be going. Bye."

The young man had been backing up while he was speaking, now he stumbles around, picking up speed fast back toward the junction our part of the dock makes with the main dock. Back towards the others dressed in whites with masted boats bobbing behind them, the same others we had been racing with earlier.

I watch as the kid rejoins his friends, I can imagine what he is saying. I can imagine what they all think by what they had just seen. All that hand waving and furtive glances in our direction.

‘There goes any rematch down the drain.’

I swing my gaze back towards Teal’c squinting an eye for better focus, I fling an arm up towards him.

"Help me up."

At my words Teal’c returns his gaze from watching the kids at the end of the dock back to me. He reaches down, grasping my arm, just short of the elbow, as I grip his wrist, he pulls gently, and I almost float erect. I am amazed by his total control of his physical strength, I may be lean, but I’m well muscled and muscle is heavy.

I stand and unzip my lightweight khaki colored windbreaker, my cream short sleeved tee shirt looks painted on. I suck in my stomach and pooch it in and out a couple of times, still looks like skin. This would leave nothing to Carter’s imagination, if she were around, which she isn’t; I glance around, just in case. I drop the jacket to the dock as I bend down to unsnap the elastic cuff of my matching windpants.

Water drips down my bare ankle into my white canvas deck shoe getting my bare foot even wetter.

Oh well.

I unsnap the other leg and shake each leg a couple of times whipping water drops every which a way.

Teal’c catches my eyes once I straighten back up, he raises one eyebrow. I know what he wants, an explanation. Not of my most recent actions, but of why I went swimming.

"Sorry Teal’c. It never occurred to me that they would do that. I’ll explain tonight, right now we have to be getting back to camp."

"Tonight then," my friend inclines his head in easy agreement.

"Have you seen my hat?"

***

Colorado Springs, Colorado in the US of A lies at the foot of a vertical wall of stone, the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains, its Precambrian granite extruded three and half billion years ago, the hard granite of Pike’s Peak anchoring the range close to its southern end.

A little further to the south and a nudge east is a lesser known anchor, a stony mountain of hard rock that nature had thrust up over softer, much younger shales and limestones.

This tough, brittle granite is broken into monolithic blocks that rest uncomfortably on the ancient sea bottom.

The lesser peak is known as Cheyenne Mountain.

Being 'lesser' known does not mean 'unknown', the Mountain first became noticed during the Cold War when a frightened America found it ideal for housing a portion of the nation’s defense network and tunneled a series of deep shafts into its crystalline structure.

Cheyenne Mountain became the eyes and ears of a secret arsenal of nuclear missiles aimed at the Soviet Union to lessen the threat of our own nuclear extinction. Time has a way of uprooting and exposing secrets, the Cold War wound down, Russia cast out communism, and worldwide nuclear disarmament became a fact.

The Mountain became quiet and empty; and soon all but forgotten until NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, greatly reduced by military downsizing, chose it as its new home.

To the general public NORAD is the soul occupant of Cheyenne Mountain, but the President, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and a small secret satellite campus of the nearby Air Force Academy know otherwise. Below its very public face exists one of the world’s most secret bases, hidden under the camouflage of the silo’s public occupant.

The troops of this hidden base battle in a new Cold War, unknown to even the highest in America’s military, and these troops had already prevented every living soul on the planet from being incinerated or enslaved by of all things, aliens.

This battle is carried to this new enemy though an alien device known as the Stargate.

The Stargate unearthed earlier in the last century at an Egyptian dig proved decades later to be a means to travel to worlds circling distant stars. By taking just a single step, light years can be traversed in milliseconds.

Unfortunately, by doing so Earth attracted the unwanted attention of a violent, aggressive and downright evil race of aliens who take human bodies for their own existence, a vile parasitic race convinced of their own godhood.

These parasites pose a real and seemingly insurmountable threat; possessing worlds filled with fanatical troops, superior technology and weapons, and possessing long range spacecraft.

In command of this disavowed base is an Air Force Major General and his 2IC (second in command), an Air Force Colonel trained in covert operations.

They hold sway over the base housing the SGC, Stargate Command, where teams use the Stargate not only to explore but to seek out technology, allies and intelligence to battle against Earth’s new enemy.

The Goa’uld.

***

Captain Samantha ‘Sam’ Carter, US Air Force, can usually be seen cutting through the Control Room just before a Mission Briefing.

Climbing the spiral metal staircase to the huge conference room above, she always expects to find it empty.

This time the unbelievable had happened, there was life in the room. Usually this 'life' is the last to drag itself to any meeting.

‘He must really want this mission approved to be here this early.’ A fond smile transforms her serious military mask into that of friend and teammate of the man sitting at the far end of the room.

Dr. Daniel Jackson is seated at the long cornerless cherry table that sports a raceway shaped insert of a black durable material.

He is leant over the papers and books scattered around him, a coffee mug gripped tightly between his hands, his chin so low as to nearly rest on its rim.

He has not noticed Sam enter the room and appears to be mumbling to himself, as he flips pages in one of the books.

Carrying only a single file folder she lightly strides down the room, her footsteps silenced by the thin carpet covering the poured concrete of the base’s bunker construction.

Stopping behind him, bouncing on her toes a moment, she leans over his shoulder to catch his eye before speaking.

"I heard that you saw Teal’c before he left with the Colonel?" Craning her body further over Daniel’s shoulder, positioning herself to have a better view of his face, but acting as if to peruse his book. Sam Carter carefully voices her words are if they were no more or less serious than with any other polite chitchat.

She expects some kind of reaction to show on his face, keeping her own almost deadpan as to not tip him off that she really wanted to know what Teal’c had been wearing.

"And I heard that you saw the Colonel before he left with Teal’c?" Daniel sneaks a look sideways towards Sam’s now attractively pinking up complexion.

‘So you did see him.’

"I’ll tell if you tell," he sings out in a sotto voce mocking tone and swiveled to face her.

Proud of the fact that he had beat her at her own game.

He now had half of the puzzle and needed her half to complete it, only he intended to have all the pieces first.

Dropping defeated into the chair next to him Sam eyes his face suspiciously. ‘What is he up to? No, he's still at it isn’t he?’

"Are you still trying to discover what the two of them have been up to for the last year?"

Projecting her disbelief at his audacity into her spoken words while amusement danced in her bright blue eyes.

"Yes," Daniel slightly pulls the word out before continuing, "How was Jack dressed?"

Setting his face into a stern mask and refusing to be baited into providing information until he got his.

However his twinkling eyes betrayed him, clearly showing any who looked just how much fun he was having right now.

Their words carry to the office near where they are talking. It’s occupant, Major General George S. Hammond, listens covertly to the scientific half of SG-1, his best ‘meet and greet’ team. He knows a little about what they are talking about, in fact, he knows a lot about what they are talking about, that their CO, Colonel Jonathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill, and fellow teammate, Teal’c, ‘are’ up to something and that Jack is most likely exceeding his authority.

Again.

Taking Teal’c to places that the Joint Chiefs would consider too dangerous for the security of this project.

Security is important, but they sometimes forget that Teal’c in not a fixture of this project. He is a free person and should be allowed to come and go as he pleases and, as long as Colonel O’Neill is involved; Hammond will turn a blind eye to their antics.

Hammond gave O’Neill his implicit trust long ago, what Jack does may not be by the rules, but it usually is the right thing to do.

The general tunes out their conversation for now, he has a little time yet to clear up a few items before he needs to face them.

"Ah-ah, you first." Sam wags a finger at him and leans back into the chair to cross her arms trying to look stubborn. Only to abruptly soften her face and suddenly lean forward battings her eyes at him imploringly.

Her behavior very much like a little kid uncertain as to which ploy to use first. Her posture a taunting travesty of her usual serious nature. She's trying to 'up the ante' on the game of emotional poker he has begun.

"Yellow." Sam hears not a hint of emotion in his voice as he nonchalantly flips a page in the forgotten book before him.

She dumbly repeats his reply in the interrogative; bodily motion frozen by her inability to fathom what he could possibly mean.

"Yellow?"

Daniel grins at her confusion. ‘She is so bad at this game.’ He begins to explain ‘yellow’ in an ‘oh so sophomoric’ way.

In detail.

"Pale yellow down-to-the-knee Baggies, scoop neck sleeveless tee, canvas shoes, in yellow, along with yellow wraparounds and a yellow knit hat."

He finishes smirking, both hands used now to underscore a ‘tah-dah’...

'Score!’ Ringing through his head, his right to his acquired point made throughout his description by Sam’s slowing, evolving, facial expressions from blank incomprehension to stunned wonder in mere microseconds.

"Wow, he must have looked great, he must have looked impressive and must have made our dangerous colonel look like a tame pussy cat!"

Awe nearly dripping from her disbelieving words.

Chuckling, she sighs, putting on her best starry-eyed expression, doggingly keeping to the gossip theme of their conversation;

"Cassie had to have had something to do with it."

"Why? Did she have something to do with what Jack was wearing?"

‘This is interesting.’ Daniel desperately tries to keep his smile in place to prevent his intense interest from showing on his face. Hoping that she might say something to help him track down his two friends when they next pulled their annoying disappearing act.

"She used his credit card and got his outfit off the net, something about what all the guys flyfishing for Tarpon are wearing. Whatever Tarpon are? Cassie squeals every time she even thinks about him dressed in it. In fact, if he wasn’t my CO I would squeal too."

She grins hugely as her wide blue eyes glaze ever so slightly as she sinks into the tantalizing memory of just how sexy her CO can look. ‘Holy Hannah, forbidden fruit!’

"Too bad I missed that, especially since they both are sneaking around again. If only…"

Daniel can’t quite imagine how what Jack is dressed like could cause Captain Carter to squeal like a schoolgirl, especially since imagining her as a schoolgirl is nearly impossible. As she isn’t in the least obliging about describing what Jack was wearing, he still had only half the puzzle. ‘Now just how did I wind up with nothing?’ Telling him about what Jack wore and comparing that to how Teal’c was dressed can provide important clues to what they are both up to. Being so intent on this thought he forgot to keep his face from showing it.

"Forget it Daniel, you tried to follow them a couple of times, with the Colonel’s covert skills you’ll never find out what they’re doing."

To stamp finality to that thought she abruptly sits up straight in her chair switching to her usual ‘all business’ persona.

"Ready for the briefing?"

"Oh, yes, yeah…"

Disappointed in her summary dismissal of his quest Daniel rummages in the papers under his book, extracting a few. "The picture the MALP sent back indicates a possible link to the Ancients…" Shuffling more papers and not quite finding what he is looking for is just an act really giving him time to switch from bantering friend to knowledgeable co-worker.

"Because the Gate address was one of those the Colonel inputted?" She leans toward him puzzled. ‘What is he looking for?’

'Have I hurt his feelings by dismissing his investigation into the Colonel’s and Teal’s activities? I didn’t mean that he should quit, just get some help from someone who can outfox the Colonel... '

"That and the symbols on the structures around the gate." Punctuating his words with the now found still photograph of those symbols.

‘She thinks that I shouldn’t pry into Jack’s business. Maybe I shouldn’t. He’s my friend, if he really wanted me to know he’d tell me.’

"Doesn’t the artificial 'pool' interest you?"

Having no interest in the symbols she flops back into her chair, upset with her unintended ridicule of her friend. Yet still wondering why the pool wasn’t the center of his thoughts.

"Well, not really. The Ancients seemed to have a great interest in esthetics, a kind of grand symmetry of design." Waving a hand through the air with as much enthusiasm as Sam held for his symbols.

"They liked to impress visitors in lay speak." A new voice interrupts.

Daniel and Sam, pop their heads around towards the lanky, lean and deceptively relaxed man standing before them. Daniel’s genuine smile of welcome is reflected back by the man’s slight grin of acknowledgement. Sam’s bright eyed smirking expression -- not quite hidden quickly enough behind a hand -- accounts for the sudden flashes of bright amber in his normally dark brown eyes.

"Very astute Jack," utters a surprised Daniel. His fondness for the older man radiates from him; Daniel is very conscious that he can’t hide his emotions like Jack can.

"For a member of the uneducated masses," Colonel ‘Jack’ O’Neill grins mockingly as he steps aside to allow the just arriving Teal’c to seat himself across from Daniel and Sam.

"If you were an accurate indicator of the level of intelligence of the ‘masses’ we would be a civilization nearly on a level with the Asgard."

Jack’s face fleetingly shows his shock at such an overt compliment. ‘Direct hit.’ Daniel mentally marks down his score. ‘Two for two.’

"Yah, sure ya betja," the Colonel stutters out, watching Carter’s attempts to stifle her giggles, even Teal’c is getting his jollies at his expense. ‘How did I walk into that?.’ Mentally shaking himself, and vowing to ignore Daniel, he asks, "Are we set to start?" in his best command voice, determined to not let them see how far into his defenses they can reach.

"I hope so," says General Hammond as he makes his presence known.

"People have a seat. Colonel would you start with your assessment of the target?"

He walks around to the head of the table and sits down, projecting an air of professional presence, encouraging his people to reciprocate.

"A foregone conclusion, a ‘go’ if you will, Sir. Daniel and Carter have outvoted me on this one, as if the military were a democracy."

He casts a mock glare of reproach toward the members of his team before resuming.

"Apparently, there are strong indications that P3R-336 has in the past been within the sphere of the Ancients’ influence, if not an outright holding of theirs. No signs of the Goa’uld having ever been there and the three long-range surveys of the UAV’s, including Carter’s newest long-range model." Pausing he nods his approval towards his 2IC. "No evidence of any living creature bigger than a bread box on the planet. No roads, buildings or other signs of habitation present, beyond those around the gate. My threat assessment is low. As to what we can gain, that’s up to Dr. Jackson."

Pinning Daniel with a look, he flips a hand in his direction passing on the assessment to his team’s archeologist.

"Dr. Jackson?" Hammond steepled his fingers and peeks over them at the linguist, who appears rather stunned at the Colonel’s words of surrender.

Daniel tries to kick his brain back into gear, after realizing that he will not have to fight tooth and nail to get SG-1 onto this planet. Finally recovering somewhat he tears his gaze from Jack and directs it towards the General.

"Uh, no sir. Colonel O’Neill has it in a nutshell." ‘Gee, duh oh.’ He flung both hands, fingers spread wide, just above the table helplessly.

General Hammond mentally marks a score into O’Neill’s column; he had stumped the civilian member of this team. Now how will the other scientist take it? He fixed Captain Carter, theoretical astro-physicist and soldier, with an inquiring look.

"Captain Carter?"

"My area is fairly open to interpretation, remote observation tells me little about the possible resources that the planet presents. I’ll just have to do a range of samples and survey as usual, Sir." ‘I’m always prepared, I’m the women remember?’ Carefully she keeps that thought from her face, remembering how unfair it is to the Colonel or other three men in the room. They don’t place that extra burden on her.

‘Okay, one out of two wasn’t so bad on this one. Jack’ll have to work harder next time to get two for two. Maybe I should have a word with him about the length of his briefings...’ Spreading his attention along the table briefly he utters his judgment.

"Good, I agree with the Colonel’s assessment. The mission is a 'go'. And Colonel, thank you for the shortest mission briefing in the history of the SGC, can I expect this efficiency in the future?" Laughing in his mind, he carefully schools his face into impassivity.

The General struggles to not burst out laughing when everyone glares at Colonel O’Neill who ignores one and all with a distinct air of innocence about him. Taking pity on the man, he backs off of his suggestion.

"Too bad, I guess this is just a fluke then. Dismissed, feel free to remain here to iron out the details if convenient." He rises to leave then pauses, turning to O’Neill. "Oh before I leave, Colonel O’Neill where are those estimates of equipment consumption I asked for?" Watching the man expectantly, he observes as intelligent eyes lock unto him revealing the man’s frank regard and respect. Always a humbling experience coming from O’Neill.

"Should be in your e-mail 'inbox', Sir. I included my usual notations in case those higher up the line wanted to argue the expected expenditures."

He feels the pride and respect in his words for his superior and friend. He was surprised at finding how unexpectedly easy it is to express these feelings, here, now. He discovers he is experiencing an unexpected pleasure at his unusual and sincere expression of them. Only to sadden at the thought of just how unusual this sharing is.

"Thank you, your insights always come in handy. Carry on Colonel. I know that you and your team need to hash out your approach to your mission." Tapping his folder against the table in final farewell, he returns across the vast room to his office.

O’Neill watches his CO return to his office and just as the door closes he is suddenly pelted with paper balls, futilely fending them off by batting incoherently at them he hisses, ‘Hey, hey! How was I to know that he’d like my moment of weakness. I never try to be efficient, It’s enough that I know that I can, I don’t want to ruin my reputation as a procrastinator."

***

I’ve been trying to discover what Jack and Teal’c have been up to for almost a year now. They mysteriously disappear separately or together for a day, a weekend or even several days. I’ve tried asking Teal’c but he politely ignores me or pretends to misunderstand.

He has to be pretending because Jack goes to such lengths to educate him, buying him books, tapes, magazines and taking him places. I once caught them both in Jack’s office; Jack was patiently explaining math to him, not just grade school math either. Spatial orbital formulas, something about a new comet and ballistic flight paths and the effect that additional gravitational bodies can have on it.

Way beyond me, more Sam’s area than mine.

Jack and I have discussed his education. On Chulak all Teal’c was allowed to do was elementary math, reading and writing, just enough to do his job as first prime. He is far, far less literate than a human in very menial job on Earth is. Jack wanted to give him the broadest education possible as fast as he could handle it. I tried to talk him into something far less only to discover later that I did Teal’c a disservice. The Jaffa is an extremely bright man, handling what Jack gave to him faster than any human could, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Jack also wanted to make sure that Teal’c saw as much first hand as possible.

Taking him places.

It’s the ‘taking him places’ part that arouses my suspicions, their outings are always of a covert nature, Teal’c isn’t supposed to be off base, period, but Jack, as I, believes that he should not be keep like a prisoner on base. I even know about Jack’s abortive attempt to get Teal’c his own apartment, General Hammond quietly and unofficially put an end to that. The real change in their trips is that neither is talking to either Sam nor Me, or in fact to anyone else, about what they are doing. That lack of communication puts up a red flag to me, I’m not worried about them doing something they aren’t supposed to, well at least not much, but I am curious, and that I can’t stand.

So, with that in mind I jump up from the conference table to dash after Jack, to attempt once more to find out just what the heck is going on. Jack’s out the door before I can get around the table, Sam rolls her eyes at me as I pass her, knowing what I’m up to. Jack’s legs have to be longer than mine are, he is only a one or two inches taller than I am but I really have to step out to catch up to him.

"Jack!" I call out to him, he has his nose stuck in his notes, and I can see the elevator about twenty feet further. I need to catch him before he boards it. He habitually keys me out, leaving me standing in the hall, if he knows I’m after him to wheedle him about something or other. That’s his way of avoiding my prying. Of course, sometimes he keys me out when he has something urgent to do; he does run this place.

"Daniel?" He stopped, in my surprise I almost collide with him. "Whoa, Danny, rein it in. What’s up?"

Jack’s shuffling back from me, smiling at me, avoiding any possible collision. It’s a true smile, unlike that put-on one he always uses, it’s good to see him truly smile, and he doesn’t do it enough. I smile right back at him, darn, now I feel guilty about probably wiping that smile off his face. I really don’t want to spoil this rare open mood of his, but I have to know what’s going on, darn it.

‘Oh, I just hadn’t seen you for a few days, just wanted to catch up on what you’ve been doing." I do, want to know what he’s doing, after all, he’s my friend, my best friend and I know that I’m his. He and Teal’c share a mutual respect for each other, sort of a warrior brother relationship, but Jack and I are like true brothers, we fight like cats and dogs and would die for each other, have died for each other.

"Not much. Did a little fishing over the weekend and ‘no’ I did not go Tarpon fishing."

He reaches down to briefly knead his knee, 'fishing' my foot ! Sitting unmoving for hours, usually asleep, doesn’t aggravate his knee. Only strenuous activities will do that.

I’m no fool.

"Tarpon Fishing?"

"You don’t know about that? Well Cassie decided that I needed to be more ‘GQ’ when in public, to attract the 'fairer sex' she says. Going on and on about how important it is for a man of my years to have an active sex life. How often, how many partners, how creative or active we should be. Recommending reading material about it. It was embarrassing, can you imagine a kid like that lecturing me on that subject! You know Janet has the idea that I’m corrupting her daughter, let me tell you it took me some time to convince her of my innocence…"

‘Oh no, I’m getting the verbal diarrhea treatment!’ He knows what I’m here for and this is his tactic. Talk me to death.

"…Did you see what she did to Teal’c, after I saw that I had a long conversation with her about playing dress up with naïve adult aliens…"

‘Teal’c naive?’ No, look! He’s been dragging me along towards the elevator, he’ll trap me in there. Death by words. No!

"…I never felt so silly showing up at the lake looking like I was from Florida. Just the looks I got when I had lunch at the lodge café, I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. I’ll be a laughing stock up there for years after that, they didn’t even want to sell me a beer, they thought that I’d want a wine cooler just because of how I was dressed. They even tried to charge me more, because I dressed like I came from out of state. Can you believe…"

‘Nope, my questions are not worth this price.’

"Eh, Jack, I gotta go." I rush right by the elevator he’s backing into, I can see him reaching out to pull me in, no way am I letting him trap me there in his version of the twilight zone. I quickly back down the hall shouting about catching up with him later. He waves while the doors finally close on him.

***

I had to laugh. That worked well -- it always works well. Danny thought he talked a lot but I can hose him down with words faster than he can process them. Verbal overload, he taught me how, and then I made it uniquely mine. If he would just give up on this quest to know what Teal’c and I do together I’d probably just tell him what’s been going on, yep definitely. Not!

It’s just too much fun keeping him in the dark, even Teal’c gets a kick out it. I love the kid like a brother, a little brother, but love him just the same. Even if he were my real little brother I’d still do this. Little brothers are for teasing and stringing along. Teaching them the ropes by challenging them, tantalizing them and just plain driving them crazy.

God! Life is good right now.

***

I know from experience that nothing goes smoothly, so I plan for the roughness of the ride. Expecting everything to go wrong -- and it will -- leaving no surprises.

I hate surprises.

Even preparing for failure doesn’t stop the surprises. My best preparations for survival can be subverted faster than Daniel can find trouble in a Goa'uld Mothership. I've never been proved wrong on that score.

I steer my team into doing missions my way. I don’t tell them it’s 'my way' -- I try to convince them it’s all their idea. Less argument that way.

I am once again surprised, and I haven’t gotten off world yet. Pleasantly surprised for a change, Daniel went along with my plan, it seems that the only structures he is interested in are those five buildings nearest the Gate. Well, relatively near, about a quarter mile away to the nearest one. Five ‘Greek-like’ columned stone buildings arranged in a deep semi-circle with an added further quarter mile to the central building, the largest. The others flanking it are close to be the same size, the outermost one of each set of two might be just a tad smaller.

He has the idea that P3R-336 is a stopover place, just a connection to other planets that can’t be reached normally. A switchpoint, Grand Central Station of the stars, like San Francisco International Airport, every flight north or south has an hour stopover there, even the ones whose total in-air time is less than two hours.

Carter agrees with him, the Gate network we know, being just a small sample of the whole, has given us indications that no one Gate can reach all other Gates, but for some reason that Carter is still trying to figure out, those instances are rare.

At least to us.

To me it makes sense, I’m not an astro-physicist like Carter, but I do dabble in astronomy. I can point that telescope out there, but everything is not in my direct line of sight, some stars obstruct other stars. Its called ‘occultation’. There are too many stars, planets and dust clouds out there in that ‘empty’ space, some of it is hidden behind whatever is between me and it, so I don’t see it unless I move to where I can see it.

Even traveling to a star using a Mothership means going around stars, planets, chucks of rocks and such. At least before you go into hyperspace. Just as airplanes go around mountains or storms here on Earth.

So it makes sense, that I have to go to first one planet via the Stargate and then gate to my ultimate destination from there, at least every once in a while. Even the symbols used on the DHD to dial the gate imply that the wormhole has some kind of point to point path it follows from one Stargate to another. We already know that some addresses don’t work all the time, meaning the Gate is probably compensating to a degree on the same problem, like a planet being behind its sun.

That’s what Carter believes, sounds good to me.

P3R-336 is a ‘safe’ planet, no Goa’uld, no natives, no large animal life, no energy signature. Very quiet. Should be no threat to deal with. I don’t even have a warning twinge. Milk run. Nice for a change. Not that I intend to let my guard down completely, may loosen it just a tad, but not until I ‘feel’ the place.

Teal’c and I are the first out of the gate, to sort of check out that it’s safe, about 90 seconds later comes the FRED with our gear accompanied by Daniel and Carter. The MALP is sitting here when I arrive and we had checked out the planet using it before we stepped though. I’ve been caught too many times by ‘surprise’ after it looked all clear via that contraption, so eyeballing it is much better, scenting the wind, feeling the vibes. Know what I mean?

I soak in the planet, feeling for the blackness that must be there.

P3R-336 is stunning!

The Stargate faces the ‘pool’ as Carter calls it, if you can call something that is perfectly round, contained in immaculately dressed creamy white stone and is about a mile across, a 'pool'. The Gate isn’t right on its edge, it’s about a half mile away on a small gentle knoll. Behind the Gate are the buildings that Daniel wants to explore, Teal’c is already checking them out, Daniel knows that he can’t go near them until he gives the okay. Meanwhile, Daniel’s checking the DHD with Carter, I’m sure that they are enjoying the view too.

The buildings remind me of Greece, Ancient, not Modern. They softly glow in the light of an alien sun, all built of the same stone that contains the ‘pool.’

Thank God! There aren’t a lot of trees, the ground is covered in a naturally short even grass, looking very much like a really huge lawn. Good visibility, making my job easier, nowhere for intruders to hide, not that we really expect any. It doesn’t hurt to be watchful, the impossible happens to us too often. I don’t feel any of my warning twinges, in fact I’m relaxed.

The trees are attractively arranged across the landscape, I do mean arranged. It's too perfect to be otherwise. Even the small number of bushes gave the same impression. There are great drifts of color woven though the lawn, flowers, but about the same size as the grass. The ‘pool’ reflects a sky of a pale silvery blue and occasionally flashes of the flower’s colors too. Not much can pierce though to my soul anymore, but this planet has struck deep in just the few minutes I’ve been here. I normally only feel like this in Minnesota, that awestruck wonder of nature and feeling of contentment, that oneness with nature kinda thing.

If the Ancients were truly responsible for this, I would like to see one their more important worlds; they were true artists of terraforming. If that is what this is, artificial in very controlled natural way, but created by an intelligence. There is no evidence of the chaos of true nature here. Even in the face of such mindful beauty I’m still looking for the serpent that I know has to live here.

Brutal experience overrules my foolish soul.

***

Jack seems mesmerized by the view, no one can accuse him of not being able to appreciate beauty when he sees it. Anyone can see that admiration in his home garden, how many tough soldiers encourage roses. This place is spectacular, I can just see a swell of green rising beyond the far edge of the ‘pool,’ everywhere you look is life, a great glory of it, but sadly devoid of those who were meant to enjoy it. I wonder just whom this world was sculpted for; even I can see a mortal hand in this creation.

I glance towards the buildings, Teal’c is returning. I nudge Sam and point him out to her.

"He doesn’t look like anything’s wrong." I roll my eyes at her in disgust.

"He would look like that," I said, waving an arm in the Teal’c’s direction, "even if the buildings were exploding."

We watch Teal’c report to Jack, then they both come over to us.

"Carter, Daniel you remember the game plan?" We both nod. "Good, then you’re free to proceed and Teal’c and I will start our walk to the other side. Remember radio checks every hour, or if anything happens. Okay?"

At that Jack and Teal’c turn to leave, each shouldering their packs, Jack is always prepared.

Jack goes only a dozen steps before stopping, Teal’c only half that before he too stops to turn and sends a questioning look to his friend and leader. I don’t know what Teal’c saw, Jack didn’t make a sound, but Teal’c nodded and resumed his progress towards the lake. I studied Jack’s body for signs, hoping to discover why he seems frozen to that patch of ground.

As I am unable to divine the cause I began to edge towards him.

Slowly, as if stalking a timid buck I ease up to stand at his side, he does not react to my presence. I look off in the direction he is staring and study the sight too for a number of minutes. I see the beauty of this place, an uncommon beauty. I turn to study my friend, just his profile, sharp and intense, but somehow different. In the last few weeks, I have seen him struggle with the death of Frank Cromwell and his inability to come to terms with his own anger towards the man, a man who died attempting to save him. Fast on the heels of this emotional storm he undergoes a death of his own, the death of his identity as the Ancients’ download took control. I search his countenance for that difference, his harshly held expression, it really isn’t as harsh as I remember it, it’s softer, his mouth not as tightly pressed into a thin line, nor his eyes as deeply hidden below that other solid line of his brow as usual. There is a soft upturn at the corner of his mouth and his eyes are revealed below an unclenched forehead. Even his body is looser.

Jack is smiling, not just with his mouth, or his eyes, but with his being.

It’s a shock; this man hides himself from everyone, including his friends, hiding behind the jovial mask of a jokester, the buffoon. Seldom will he reveal his true feelings. Only the most extreme ones ever escape, briefly and spectacularly. Even then, one really had to be looking to even see that. Yet here he is visibly expressing happiness; maybe he has been able to resolve some of those feelings he rather not have. I feel an earnest desire to see him revealed like this more often, to be less the actor, to be more the player. I know that he is the only one that can ever achieve that switch in his life. Knowing that, I am certain that this rarity before me might never be repeated.

Ever.

I am reluctant to leave Jack’s side, afraid that any move will deny him this small joy that he so deserves despite himself; he seems so at peace here. I wonder if it is this place, or something else freeing him and how long it will last.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Jack sighs, uncharacteristically contented.

"Are you okay?" I eye him critically; he is being so unlike himself.

"Yeah, for the first time in a long time, I feel okay. It’s this place; it strikes a cord in me. It’s hard to explain. Am I being silly, is this something that others commonly feel, and why don’t I feel like this more often?"

The comment wrenches at my heart, how often does Jack feel that he can’t enjoy the simple pleasures. I can see the smile fading, I try to fan it back to life.

"It’s very normal to have pleasant feelings in the presence of beauty. Don’t let it worry you." His smile is not completely gone, just a shadow of it remains. It is encouraging.

"I can’t not worry, feeling this good has always had a price later. It’s like I’m punished for allowing myself to enjoy something, that I don’t deserve this. I have lived in darkness too long and me being here just sullies this. I can only hope that this time I won't be made to pay too high a price just for the privilege of being here."

He huffs out a breath, his smiling lips flatten, dampening his smile further.

Then, without a word, he strides away.

I remain, unmoving, watching him trail along after Teal’c’s faint trail of footsteps left in the grass.

‘Jack you do deserve to feel happiness. You are not darkness personified. I have seen the pure beacon of your enlightened soul in the darkest of circumstance. Even Teal’c is like a moth to your flame.

Only you are blind to your own virtue.’

***

Teal’c has left ahead of me, but I’m not concerned. He will wait at the ‘pool’ for me. I know that he feels the peace of this place as keenly as I do, well maybe not that much. He has far less experience with it. Only Charlie’s birth has ever effected me this deeply, deeply enough to fill my eyes with unshed tears.

It frightens me; I have not felt like this for many years.

I can feel my control loosening, never a good thing. Could there be lingering effects from the Ancient’s download? Stray bits that resonates with this, a world of the Ancients to cause all of these ‘feelings?’

I don’t know and may never know. All I can do is enjoy the bitter sweetness while I can, nothing good ever lasts, this I know.

An end comes to all things, especially those good and pure.

I quickly come to a stop next to Teal’c, I say nothing. He doesn’t need my words, as I don’t need his acknowledgement of my presence. He stands nearly as lost in the staggering grandeur that is before him as I had been with Daniel. I find myself falling back into the spell this place weaves though my grudging soul.

Many would be unable to comprehend that warriors can appreciate such beauty, but beauty is a type of frozen battle lying before us and warriors study battles as a means to their future goals. That battle is a system of forces exerting one against the other, symmetry expressed in an understandable military logic or even mathematically.

Carter would understand the beauty of math as I understand the beauty of a well-waged battle. A garden is a battle also; living things and physical conditions pitted against themselves and a sentient mind. All intent on seeking their goals, but achieving a momentarily frozen balance. Any change in the conditions changes the garden. If I watch long enough I can see the struggle for supremacy between the forces at war.

Teal’c feels this as well as I do.

"Will we have time for contemplation?"

I Glance at the originator of those words -- spoken without moving -- and I contemplate my friend, the statue’s question.

"I hope so, Teal’c, I hope so." I find myself sincerely hoping to soak in more of this place; it’s narcotic already eating away at my will to stoically endure, to deny the rising ‘feelings’ in me. Feelings that died with the echo of a gunshot. Their awakening more painful and confusing than their death.

"You feel it deeply. Do you not?" The statue moves, Teal’c’s eyes search mine out and lock on, pinned I admit to one of my emerging ‘feelings.’

"Yes, it frightens me." It does, I seem to be losing control, but the emotions in Teal’c’s softening gaze terrify me. I’m not entitled to such compassion.

I will never be.

"Only great things frighten you."

‘Can you see me that easily my friend, am I that far gone. If so…’

"Then this is truly a very great place." My eyes return to the vista we contemplate, awestruck by its power over me.

This place's ability to negate the defenses that prevent those around me from seeing my true self.

I greatly fear that.

"Indeed."

"Do you have any questions before we split up?" My words designed to break this planet’s death grip on my shriveled dark soul.

"Only, will you be ‘fine?’ " Teal’c is a feeling creature, unlike me and he feels my fear and seeks reassurance. I try to give him that, maybe I can believe it too.

"As always."

"Then I am content to continue."

"I hope that we can kick this deep meaningful mood crap before we meet up again, it gives me a headache."

"I agree." He gives me the rarest of sincere smiles before he spins on a heel to walk purposely to the east. I sigh, I can only spout that stuff to him, and he takes it in stride mainly because he feels it too. The need for distance, his soul has a darkness of it’s own. If I ever talked like that to Daniel, I think he would faint dead away.

I turn to the west as I pull out my canteen and some Advil, my knee is bothering me, sailing is a little rough on it, and it’s been pissy for a few days. I have to keep enough in my system to keep the swelling down that the walking will cause. So, I’ve been taking it for a few days to prevent that on this trip. I pop a couple into my mouth and wash them down and stow my canteen. Then I step out.

An unaccustomed lightness in my step.

Teal’c and I agreed in advance to take a path well back from the edge of the ‘pool,’ sort of follow the ridgeline. We’ll get a better view of the lay of the land that way. My path is serpent like, moving further or closer to the water to keep to the high ground over the random hillocks of grass.

I keep going.

The grass is soft; I stride easily though it, leaving hardly a mark as my rude boots propel me along. This softly rolling landscape offers wide vistas and places of quiet privacy, a garden of peace. I find myself again wondering just what the function of this planet is in the scheme of things; maybe Daniel will discover that before I get back to the gate.

I have traveled a quarter way around the pool, halfway to my meeting with Teal’c who mirrors my journey to the east.

I walk.

This is some life here, I discover butterflies; well, they look like butterflies, lots and lots of butterflies. I felt like running and laughing like a kid as some of them crawl over me, I gently brush off the ones on the back of my neck, they tickle and are trying to burrow into my hair. I swoop my arms through the crowded air to encourage their flight from me; they scatter like leaves in a fall zephyr. I heavily skip away a few steps to stop -- not an easy feat with a full pack and watch as they float away on the breeze, and I smile. I really like this planet, a lot. I wish I could shake that little feeling of guilt that lurks at the edge of my thoughts though.

As I walk, I begin to see objects.

They are tall, maybe twelve to fourteen feet high, looking like thick planks of wood with pointed rounded tops, they are thickly scattered across the tidy lawn for probably miles, or at least as far as I can make them out. I stop, drop my pack and dig out my binoculars; they do go on for miles, past the limit of my very good glasses. I study a close one, magnified greatly, they are rounded at both ends, one end planted into the ground. I will give them a wide berth until I meet up with Teal’c. Together we’ll investigate.

I increase my pace.

***

I meet up with Teal’c on the knoll rising at the edge of the ‘pool’ twin to the one the gate sits on, now opposite us.

Before us are literally thousands of vertical boards, for want of a better word, one end planted in the ground. Just imagine old wooden long Hawaiian surfboards, unpainted ones. That’s the best description I can give, and very accurate. I approach one closer, yep, very accurate description, they’re shaped identically. Another proof that there’s nothing new under the sun, any sun.

"O’Neill." I wrench my head around. "There is a type of force field around these objects."

‘What?’ I watch as he strokes his fingers lightly just above the board, he then pushes and doesn’t quite reach the surface. I grope for my radio.

"Carter…?"

"Energy readings for this planet, are there any?"

"Teal’c and I are looking at an object encased in an energy field of some kind, there are thousands of these objects."

Teal’c and I swiftly test the nearest dozen or so.

"Yep, all of them we’ve checked so far."

Teal’c and I try our darnedest to answer all of her questions.

"Possible threat?"

"We’ll try Carter. Out."

"Come on Teal’c let’s pry loose a lawnboard, shall we?"

The uprooting turned out to be tricky; each board is not actually sunk into the ground, but is set into a stone socket. Only a narrow band of stone, about half-inch wide encircles the base of the upright board. A dark stripe is centered on the band of stone visible. It appears to be metal imbedded into the stone.

I reach down to touch that dark band and got the shit knocked out of me. I’m suddenly sitting on my ass in the grass, damn that rhymes!

‘Get a grip O’Neill!’ I hold up my finger, there is no pain and no mark, but my body says that I should have major damage from that jolt. Yet the only pain I have is my suddenly throbbing knee; going down like that has upset it. I must have been sitting there looking a little dazed, because Teal’c is suddenly kneeling next to me. He seems to have been talking to me for some time.

"…O’Neill answer me. Are you injured ?" You don’t often see concern on his face, but it’s writ strongly across it now.

"Ah, no. Just a little stunned. I don’t think it hurt me at all. Ah… maybe a little nerve burn. Yeah, I’m okay."

I’m rambling and I know it, but nerve burn describes how I feel. Like something has burned along my nerves and they’re taking their time getting back to business.

"It would be prudent to touch the device with something other than your hand." Teal’c explains in a suddenly relieved voice -- he sounds relieved to me. I know I certainly hadn’t meant to get myself fried. I’m surprised that a possible Ancients device is a safety hazard, well maybe not a hazard, just painful. Knowing little of the legendary race, it might not be a danger to them, just to animals and us young ones.

"Ya think!" I exclaim rolling my eyes at his blatant statement of the obvious.

"Should we not look for an ‘off switch.’ " Teal’c asks with a perfectly straight face. Hell, he probably doesn’t realize just how funny his words are. Then again it might just be me, effects of the nerve burn maybe.

It’s still a good idea.

I lean to the left and tuck that leg under me to awkwardly lurch upward, Teal’c grabs my left elbow when I don’t quite make it, damn knee.

"O’Neill, you are injured." He says it like I lied to him.

Damn knee!

"No, it’s just my knee. Too much boating over the weekend, then the fall twanged it good." I limp over to my pack for my canteen and pull a couple of painkillers from my vest, which should help with the building throb.

Teal’c doesn’t need to say a thing. His approval of my actions I can read on his face, for a change. Either he’s really shook up or I’m getting really good at reading him.

I replace my canteen and pull out my belt knife and return to the ‘lawnboard.’

I’m determined to pry it from the ground now. It has pissed me off a tad, taking the shine off my nice day that way. I kneel down and began digging the grass out from around the stone socket.

"Is that wise?"

"You suggested the ‘off switch.’ " I rear back to catch his eye and I wink, of course I get no reaction from him, as I shouldn’t. I bet I confuse the hell out of him all the time. He probably spends hours discussing my behavior with Daniel, trying to figure out what I’m all about. I’m fairly confident of this theory, Daniel and I have had some weird conversations late at night that I’m sure boomeranged back at me from moments just like this.

I return to mucking around in the dirt and soon have the device revealed, at least a good seven inches of it and test probes with my blade tell me that it goes a lot deeper than that -- it would have to go in deep to hold up something that tall. I discover two concave dents centered on one of the long curves, like a fingertip is meant to be placed in one or both of them. I point them out to Teal’c, he nods his understanding and raises an eyebrow at me.

"I’m sure as hell not putting my finger on it again." I grind out, a tad put out at his unspoken suggestion. Well, I can use the butt of the knife. The corner of it is close to the shape of a fingertip. Teal’c watches as I wrap the sharp blade in a bandanna that I had in my vest, he nods his comprehension of my plan as I grip the now shielded blade as if it were a handle. Brandishing it briefly, I then lower it to the stone and fit it to one of the inset dimples. Nothing. Okay. I tried the other one. Nothing. Okay. Then it dawns on me, would I really notice if I had succeeded, no probably not.

I raise the handle and press against the board with it; the field is still there. I press the first dimple again and try touching the board again, I can. I press the second dimple and try touching the board again, unsuccessfully.

Okay! I now know that the left one turns the field off and the right one turns it back on.

"You have been successful, O’Neill."

"Just luck, Teal’c." Raising to my feet, I cause the lawnboard to wobble a bit as I balance against it. "Think you can pull it out?"

"I shall try."

Teal’c steps up to the board to grasp it, he gently pulls it straight up, moves it sideways and rests the bottom edge on the ground in the same orientation.

"It is surprisingly light." He is holding it upright with just a few fingertips against its length.

"Let me try to move it." I move to pick it up as Teal’c steps back, I easily heft it but it nearly topples because of it’s height, Teal’c steps back in to help steady it. "You’re right it is light, just awkward. Now all we have to do is get it to Carter."

"I will fix a makeshift harness to it, after which I can easily carry it." Teal’c states.

"Too bad we don’t have Daniel’s recorder, Carter would love to see the ‘lawnboard’s’ mount." I turn to follow Teal’c towards the packs, I have some cinch straps that he can use to cobble together that harness. I start out after him. ‘Whoa! What’s going on…’

"Teal’c? Crap…"

I swiftly go down to one knee, I sense Teal’c trying to get back to me but I resume my long fast fall to the ground, totally unable to help myself. I topple like a felled tree as I plow face first into the thankfully grass cushioned ground, or maybe not so thankfully, I now know what the alien grass and dirt tastes like. I can’t spit it out, yuck.

‘Shit! I can’t move!’

I should hurt. My sore knee hit the ground, my face hit the ground and I hit the ground. Thinking of all the things I should be feeling, but aren’t, starts swiftly crowding out my thoughts, leaving me unable to think at all. Where’s Teal’c? I feel hands on me. The babble recedes at the touch. Teal’c. He gently rolls me over; I can see him now.

‘Shit the lights went out!’

I’m in darkness, total darkness. I don’t feel anything either. The quiet gibbering that Teal’c’s touch stilled begins to swell, erupting into the darkness with an impossible white-hot haze of blacker panic that starts to burn away consciousness, my mind’s screams can find no outlet in physicality.

Hanging on to a faint glimmering of awareness I hear Teal’c calling Carter on the radio.

My hearing winks out; the blindingly dark screams accelerate to a deafening crescendo, and

***

My swift reaction is to no avail; O’Neill’s strangled cry is not enough warning for me to prevent his headlong crash to the ground. I carefully roll him unto his back, his body is stiff, his eyes open, shock and fear emanate from them, he does not respond to my voice. I brush vegetation and dirt from his now stained face, prying some from between his lips. I check to ensure his mouth contains no more. Emptiness suddenly resides in his deep amber eyes; his body loosening rapidly as he slumps against the ground, his eyelids slowly fall over now flat black lifeless eyes.

I cannot rouse him.

I have never been this close to panic for more years than O’Neill has lived; I release my slight support of his body to operate the radio.

‘CaptainCarter." My voice is deceptively calm, something that I am not.

My prim'ta rolls in discomfort.

A valid assumption, as this call is not within our check-in schedule. Kneeling protectively over my warrior brother, I must validate her reasoning.

"O’Neill has collapsed." I await a reply.

Do I detect confusion?

"O’Neill has collapsed. He is non-responsive."

Is that panic? Can that actually be conveyed by our radios or am I projecting my own feelings into her words? Am I truly in control?

"I do not believe he is injured and he is breathing, but I cannot rouse him." I sound in control, for O’Neill’s sake I must be.

CaptainCarter is not one to lightly curse in even the worse of situations, this curse now illustrates the dire circumstances I now find myself in. Is there an alternative to her just alluded to plan of action?

I glance at the ‘lawnboard’ and feel the stirrings of one; I mentally inventory what I know to be in my field pack and what O’Neill habitually carries in his. I have a feasible plan that should deliver O’Neill back to the gate faster.

"CaptainCarter I have devised a plan to get O’Neill across the ‘pool’."

I rapidly explain my plan to her and she agrees with it, we both concur that O’Neill’s unexplained illness necessitates his rapid return to the SGC, and medical help. This plan offers the swiftest return. I sign off to implement it.

***

I look down at my hands and they’re trembling. The Colonel. Something has happened to the Colonel!

Daniel, I need Daniel. I try to raise him on the radio -- he doesn’t answer. That explains why he isn’t jamming the radio with questions, he didn’t hear the beep that tells us that the prime channel is being used. In SG-1 normally the prime channel is the Colonel, usually talking privately to either Daniel or Teal’c, but we all know it’s in use and we can manually switch to it to hear the conversation. Something we usually do, at least to check the subject of the conversation, normally we don’t stay long.

No one likes to hear Daniel getting balled out.

What in the hell am I thinking about?!

I don’t even glance at my equipment as I stumble around and start trotting towards the buildings.

I’m soon in a flat out run, not attempting to fight the panic, but using it to fuel my body towards my goal.

***

Removing my hand from the radio, I softly grip O’Neill’s throat, his pulse is a strong steady throb beneath the light pressure of my fingertips. I check that he is conformably positioned upon the ground before standing.

I search the horizon for possible threats, I do not wish to leave my brother’s side for a moment but I must to preserve his existence. Resolved, I resume my way to my pack, but now I go with a different goal in mind.

All of SG-1 carry tents and their attendant groundcloths, very thin, tough plastic sheets to protect the tent from the rough ground, my groundcloth is slightly larger than the rest and it will do for my purpose, as will my staff weapon.

I remove the cloth from my pack and move to O’Neill’s pack to retrieve his parachute cord and his climbing rope.

I now need the ‘lawnboard’ and O’Neill’s knife, but to retrieve them I must pass him. I find myself kneeling down to check my brother again before doing so; I can discern no adverse change in his condition, to my abject relief. I carry the board to the ‘pool’ side of my silent friend and begin assembling the items into a conveyance. I have my brother to thank for the knowledge that I am currently using to save his life.

I lay the lawnboard flat upon the ground, it is quite thick, but very light for it’s size I am chancing that it’s buoyancy in the water will exceed the weight of myself and O’Neill. If it does not I will attempt to tether myself to it and be pulled along. However, for that to happen I must reason out just how I can fit a sail to it.

I can use my staff weapon as a ‘mast’ and ‘bend’ the ground cloth to it with the parachute cord. I will be able to hold it against the wind by tying some of O’Neill’s climbing rope to it. I will need to anchor the butt of the 'mast’ to the board; O’Neill’s knife can provide part of that solution.

By eye I measure less than a third down the board and plunge the knife into the centerline of it, I begin to gouge out a hole or socket to wedge the butt of my staff weapon into. I will not be able to keep the ‘mast’ upright and ‘sail’ the lawnboard. I intend to use more of the climbing rope to help support it. I can tie a loop into the middle, wedge that loop over the trailing end of the board and run the two long ends from the loop to attach it to the top of my ‘mast.’

It will hold it upright as long as the ‘sail’ is drawing wind, a countering of two pressures.

The board has no keel or rudder to hold it to its course, I intend to use surface friction to ‘hold a course’ and steer.

My feet will provide the friction, dropping one or the other over the side to pull the board in that direction, mindful of gradual application of that pressure.

Having laboriously bored a sizable hole into the board, I stand the staff weapon next to it, using it to gauge the width and depth that seems appropriate. The wood is unreasonable tough, but perhaps that is for the best, if it were less tough the ‘mast’ could move excessively in the hole, enlarging it and that would defeat my whole project.

Eventually I am satisfied.

I look towards O’Neill, he has not moved, I watch his chest raise and fall a number of times before returning to my task.

Using the knife, I punch holes along one edge of the ground cloth to ‘sew’ the cloth to the ‘mast.’ Having completed that I wrap the plastic around the staff weapon twice to protect the lacing and help decrease the pressure on the cuts in the plastic. Now I fit the rope controls to the cloth and fit the support rope to the ‘mast’ and the board.

I have built a crude sailboard or boardboat, I am uncertain which term would be best. I can harness the sturdy, steady wind that blows from us towards the Stargate. The distance across the ‘pool’ being less than a two-thirds of the distance that walking around it would be, this would be the fastest option.

I check O’Neill before dragging my ‘boat’ to the water; I am reluctant to be so far from him. I hurry as quickly as I am able; I place the board at the edge of the pool. I stand and gaze across the mile of water I must cross; I am confident of success. I look back towards my brother and search the far distance for threats, none are apparent.

I hurry back to O’Neill.

I carefully hoist warrior brother onto my shoulder, I leave everything else, only O’Neill matters, and he cannot be replaced as the rest can. I smoothly and swiftly carry him to the edge of the pool, gently lowering him onto the board, centering him there. I am tempted to tie him to the board, but if the board capsizes, he could drown before I could loosen his restraints. No, I will wedge him between my legs as I kneel upon the board, if we find ourselves in the water, he will be close at hand and I can still steer by dropping a foot into the water.

I enter the chest deep water to pull the board with O’Neill upon it into the water, holding it against the pool’s side as I climb back unto the edge of the pool. I lay the ‘mast’ on the very edge of the pool as I very carefully place a knee to center of the board, holding the rope control in my teeth, I ease unto the board, keeping it from depositing myself or O’Neill into the water. Using the ‘mast’ I slowly push away from the edge of the pool, slowly I swing my converted staff weapon upright. I insert the tethered ‘mast’ in its socket and secure it.

Using my hands as paddles, I reposition the board before slowly pulling on the rope controls. I can feel the board glide gently before the wind; I pull the sail in closer carefully. I do not want to push this too soon too fast, it must remain slow and steady. I allow the board to build speed; it is faster than walking and I decide that keeping the ‘sail’ loose and our speed fairly low is safer.

***

Holy Hannah!

I nearly learn to fly the hard way, I regain my stride. I click the radio repeatedly. No answer.

I save my breath, I’m still too far away to yell for Daniel, and it’s a quarter mile from the Gate to the nearest building. I’m running straight for the bigger center one, which is nearly another quarter mile further.

Thank god, the radio.

"Daniel, drop everything and head for the gate. Now!" I don’t even slow my pace, just in case I have to drag him out of there.

"Why?" The radio squeaks.

"The Colonel’s down." I almost scream into the radio tucked close to my cheek.

"Jack? Coming!" I hear lots of noise; his radio is still open. There’s a loud shriek from the radio, before it goes dead. I don’t slow down until I actually see him; he’s coming on fast. I turn and ran even faster back the way I came. He doesn’t use the radio, I don’t know if he’s broken it or is too busy breathing. I pass the Gate headed for the ‘pool’ half a mile further on.

"Sam!" He sounds close, I spare a glance behind me, he’s about 100 yards behind me and closing. I stop halfway down the slope, my eyes scan the water before me, then I point, "There!"

Daniel nearly knocks me down trying to stop; he sees what I see.

"What is that?"

"Teal’c has built a makeshift sailboard, he has the Colonel on it."

"Sam, we have to get down there. How is Teal’c going to stop?"

"Crap!"

I turn back and start running and I hear Daniel pounding along behind me.

***

We swiftly cross the water. I can see two figures careening down the grassy slope from the Stargate towards me. The shore is fast approaching, much faster than I thought possible. I have no idea how I will be able to stop from hitting the stone copping at the edge of the pool.

It appears that DanielJackson and CaptainCarter will arrive just in time to witness our collision. I can’t allow that to happen, O’Neill is at risk.

I gauge the speed of my approach carefully then I gather my brother into my arms and slip into the water.

***

I can see them, on some kind of sailboard, how can this be? I see what appears to be a figure laid flat on the board. Jack! Teal’s seems to be sitting on him. They are getting close. Why aren’t they slowing down? Can they?

I yell at Sam to hurry, letting her know my fear that Teal’c can’t stop. I keep my eyes on my waterborne friends as I pound down to the water.

Suddenly both figures slip from the board into the water and their craft collapses into a heap tossing up a cloud of spray. I shout at Sam as I find myself running.

"Stay here." I don’t wait for an answer, but foolishly dive into the water where my friends have disappeared.

I nearly bump into a suddenly there Jack. He is bobbing limply, face up, held there by a large hand, Teal’c. My feet accidentally find the bottom, the water shallower than I thought, thank god my dive had been shallow, just a glide to accelerate me toward my goal. Teal’c must have found his feet also, he is gripping Jack tightly to his chest, head lolling into the crook of Teal’c’s neck. Teal’c is checking his breathing before turning toward me. I help support Jack as we slosh for shore; my eyes fasten themselves to my friend.

My eyes are riveted to him, he’s not pale, and his coloring is it’s normal sun-cured tone. Those barely discernable freckles of his genetic heritage are present against his sun-browned skin, but he is so limp, like a loosely filled rag doll. Water streams from his soaked hair and across his closed eyes shadowed by long lashes; I’ve never noticed how youthful he can appear when his eyes are closed and relaxed, almost like a young boy’s. I can see his strong white teeth though his partially open mouth. My god, was his mouth open like that when he went into the water? Panic builds and I tug at his unresponsive body hard, I turn imploring eyes to Teal’c asking all my questions. He gives me only one answer to increase his efforts to reach the edge of the pool.

Sam is right there helping to hold Jack’s head out of the water as Teal’c climbs out and I remain to buoy up Jack’s body. Teal’c can gently extract him from the water as I push from below. I know that Teal’c is very strong, but I have never seen him deadlift a man from the ground like that. Jack's body streaming water lies in his arms much as a child would, a child of nearly 200 lbs. Turning he walks a few dozen steps and lays him flat on the grass. My eyes are glued to the scene as I scramble from the cool water with Sam’s help.

Sam leaves me dripping on the white stone to tend to Jack. She’s there pulling at his clothes, fingers at his neck, head against his chest. I can feel her almost panic the same panic that roots me here to this stone.

"Sam, did he breathe in any water?"

I tug on her jacket to divert her attention; she really needs to hear me on this.

"No, I don’t think so, he wasn’t under long enough for that. We need to get him to the SGC."

Her voice at first is a little panicky; she is trying to convince herself as much as me. She’s beginning to slip into command mode, doing Jack proud.

"Daniel Jackson, the lawnboard can be used as a stretcher."

‘Lawnboard?’ My eyes follow his gesture back toward the water and the ‘sailboard’ they sailed in on. We both return to the edge of the pool, pondering its possible use. Teal’c plunges back into the water. I help him pull it up onto the shore. It’s so light. Teal’c quickly strips it of it’s entanglements, recovering his staff weapon. The whole contraption stuns me, how in the world did he think it up?

Soon we are moving the board to Jack.

Sam is more in control now, she’s peeled off her jacket to cover Jack with and is drying his face with a bandanna she had hidden somewhere. She looks up at our approach; I can see her concern, face paler than usual.

"Teal’c, Daniel, do you think you can carry the Colonel on that to the Gate?" She points at the ‘lawnboard.’ Her words ‘ask’ but her face ‘commands.’ Glancing at Teal’c I see that he will obey as will I.

"I am confident of it." Teal’c confirms.

"Shouldn’t be that hard, it's only a half mile, sure!" I answer just as confidently.

Teal’c and I gently slid Jack unto the middle of the long board, uh… ‘Lawnboard’ as he explained that is what Jack named it. Sam arranges his limp body, again covering him with her jacket as I add mine, which she uses to immobilize and cushion his head. She stands back as we lift the board carefully to keep Jack balanced and motionless upon it. We begin to move towards, the Gate; Sam walking alongside carrying Teal’c’s staff weapon but also resting a hand protectively on Jack’s chest. It really doesn’t take long to get there; not even long enough for my fingers to cramp; it’s not that far even with our awkward burden.

I’m all for leaving now but Sam wants to get Jack covered in something warm; he’s soaked. I should have thought of that, he could freeze during transit. Luckily my pack is here, at the Gate, with Sam’s, I leave Teal’c to strip Jack of his wet clothing as I root out my sleeping bag and anything warm I might have, just as Sam is doing.

I help Teal’c to zip Jack into my bag, I put him into my spare pants which are loose at the waist and short, so some socks are added to complete where the pants leave off. Then both of us tug my pull-on sweater onto him. The one that Jack is always complaining about, ‘why bring it if you never use it.’ He just never sees me use it. I habitually sleep in it to keep my head and shoulders free of that claustrophobic mummy bag. Sam had dried Jack off as much as possible or we would never have gotten it onto him. Sam lays her bag over his chest and face, explaining that he can breathe but will add protection from the cold. We’re ready.

I dial, Sam handles the GDO and Teal’c stands guard.

Just like always, this is just so surrealistic!

***

I’m shouting as I reintegrate on the other side of the gate.

"Medical Emergency! I need help here!"

My hand is still planted firmly on Colonel O’Neill’s chest as Teal’c and Daniel carry him and the alien board to the end of the ramp, setting it down carefully.

Teal’c’s staff weapon clatters to the floor forgotten. I go onto my knees beside the Colonel checking his breathing and the pulse point at his throat after flipping the sleeping bag from his face. Daniel is on the other side zipping down the other bag Jack’s body is encased in, his unresponsive body. Don’t go there Samantha, he is your CO.

Medical personnel suddenly surround us and Janet Frasier is asking me about the Colonel’s condition.

"Teal’c, Teal’c was with him when he collapsed." I stutter out. I focus on that small area of his neck where his pulse can not only be felt but also seen. I’m mesmerized by it. I’m barely aware as Janet summarily dismisses my existence, I don’t have the answers to her questions, I’m not offended, and it’s her job.

I do take offense at being gently pushed away from the Colonel and that small evidence of life in him.

I hang on the outside of the huddle until the General pulls me away, asking more questions. I can give him no real answers; I see his disappointment and concern, but also his understanding. What has happened, happened out of the blue, the wild blue yonder.

How Air Force.

As Janet’s people began to gurney the Colonel toward the elevators for the ride up to the infirmary, I try to keep a hand on him. It’s a battle, but he will not go into that night alone and untouched if I have anything to do about it. Daniel is doing the same on the other side. Teal’c I know is doing the same on a spiritual level, as he follows guarding our convoy’s six.

I remember the General asking about our equipment; I mumbled something about leaving it where we had dropped it. He said he would arrange a follow-up team to recover it, after Dr. Frasier can tell him more about the possible threat that felled the Colonel. I mentioned my samples, I had gotten most of them, I had many of the local plants and insects we saw, and they might be important clues. He nodded. My mind wasn’t on the conversation, I’m sure he could tell, my eyes kept sliding to the Colonel, like a needle to true north.

In the elevator Janet asks if I would help with the toxicology tests, I assent. I would do anything that would help the Colonel. I’m wracking my brain trying to understand what could have happened, I question Teal’c on what he had observed and he tells me about the zap the Colonel had taken.

Janet listens to us as much as to her personnel and what the Colonel’s body is telling her. She injects a question about what could she expect from a zap like that. I tell her that I really didn’t know; I just have theories on the device and don’t have one to test and narrow them down. I do let her know what the most likely scenarios would be; the technology is too advanced, too alien.

The elevator doors open, I’m pushed to the rear of the car as the Colonel’s keepers take the lead, clattering down the hall at a trot, Janet at the rear. The door of the trauma room closes in my, our faces. We mill around in the hall, anxiety evident in us all.

Nurses and orderlies come and go at a frantic rate, samples in hand, to get tests done.

Holy Hannah, now the Colonel’s insistence on having 24/7 medical testing facilities on base will get a true test of their worth. He is so far sighted, especially in regards to the well being of those under his command. He pushed for the test personnel and equipment, and some of the advanced hospital equipment, but he couldn’t quite get that additional floor for beds. I know he’s still trying for that. He’ll never give up.

It’s eerie to think that he might the first benefactor of his efforts.

Janet sticks her head out and beckons to me. I hurry over. It’s only been an hour since that closed in my face.

***

I watch as CaptainCarter disappears into the Trauma Room with DrFrasier.

"DanielJackson."

My brother’s friend is slow to raise his head; he is O’Neill’s Brother of the Heart, as I am his Warrior Brother.

Both need the other to survive, both have suffered unbearable losses. I am honored to call them both friend. I will ease his distress if I can.

He sits with arms folded across knees tightly pressed against his chest, hiding his face and his fear behind crossed wrists. Standing at ease across the hall from him, I have watched him unsuccessfully use his feet to push himself into the wall, seeking physical discomfort to dull his emotional pain. I only know this after having watched O’Neill carefully for any insight I could find to how he thinks. I have yet to be able to predict what he will do, but I did learn about masking emotional pain with physical pain. DanielJackson is only yet learning what O’Neill has brought to a form of art, he broadcasts his emotions widely while O’Neill gives no glimmer of his.

His upturned face is blotched white and red from pushing his face into his knees, his eyes wide, and haunted by the possibilities that he sees all too clearly, having seen them first hand happen to others, he now imagines these possibilities may be visited upon his friend. Voicing this fear is unnecessary; his eyes shout it out

"O’Neill is strong."

I have little experience is offing comfort to others. It is still a foreign concept to me. I have spoken the truth hoping that it will have some power to provide solace. His reply is a slight nod of his head and an imperceptible loosing of his rigid posture.

"He will not leave us willingly."

I have miscalculated the effect those words would have upon DanielJackson. His body stiffens as he hides his face once again. Have I caused him pain using a language I had not been born to? Have I incorrectly used some nuance creating the opposite of my meaning?

I will try to rectify my mistake.

"I apologize, I only meant to point out positive points. Forgive me for causing you additional pain though my ignorance of your language."

His stance has not changed, but his shoulders start to shake, I have erred again. What is that sound he is making? He does not sound distressed, but amused. He is laughing. I have witnessed Tau’ri in such emotional pain that in their confused state they express opposite emotions. Have I unknowingly pushed him beyond his endurance? I had not thought that possible with this man. So disturbed am I with my thoughts that I do not notice him raise his head to look at me, and in so doing he must have fathomed them from my face.

"Teal’c, that's hilarious! You have a better grasp of my native language than I do. I should be apologizing to you. Here you are trying to offer help and all I can do is wallow in self-pity. I’m sorry."

"Self-pity?"

"Yes, I’ve been sitting here thinking about all the things that I will never learn about Jack. All the adventures, little and great, that I’ll never be able to share with him if… if he dies."

"I…"

"Yes, he is strong and he will not leave without a fight. He’s stubborn that way. But Teal’c, sometimes being stubborn and strong aren’t enough, we can still lose him."

"O’Neill has told me that one truly never loses someone they hold close to their heart, as long as the memories remain the person lives within them."

"He’s right, but I don’t have nearly enough memories of Jack yet. I need more."

"Would having some of mine help?"

"Excuse me?"

"Can I share my memories of O’Neill to supplement your own?"

"Can’t hurt, but only if you want to. I’ve always wondered what you two do alone together."

"You were correct before, that O’Neill and I were together last weekend. I shall begin there…"

***

Throwing a log onto the fire, I watch as sparks explode from the fire pit into the inky darkness above it, creating a miniature fireworks display. Casting a look around the dark sparse woods beyond the flickering fire, I can see more than a dozen similar fires, in similar pits, putting on the same display.

"Why do the Tau’ri ‘camp’? "

I return my attention to my companion, Teal’c, not of this world but my brother in all but blood.

"It’s probably something buried deep in our prehistory. All the way back to our first conquest of fire and the protection it offered an ill suited upstart of an ape in the veldts of Africa. This is the closest we get to a genetic memory."

The only acknowledgement of my explanation is the swift sweep of his eyes across the darkness to linger on the faces revealed by the illumination of the other glowing fires sprinkled under the dark glowering trees.

"There are many ‘campgrounds’ across your world?" Teal’c’s eyes have returned to me, becoming reflective mirrors of the bright combustion between us.

"Well, not really, there are a lot of them in ‘developed countries,’ kinda the ‘haves’ as opposed to the ‘have nots’ whose population are too busy trying to survive to ‘camp,’ it is a form of recreation. Yes, I know you find that concept incomprehensible at times, but that is what this whole weekend is, recreation."

"Such as the sailing competition?"

‘Ah, now for the explanation.’

"Yep. Sailing, only a couple of hundred years ago, was state of the art transportation on Earth. Then we invented internal combustion engines, the glamorous days of sail died. Only to be resurrected as a rich man’s hobby, a way to recapture those days when men risked their lives in sailing ships. Today it’s more affordable for those of us not rolling in cash -- it’s a sport. Now anyone can be master of rudder and wind."

"It gives me a most satisfying feeling, I thank you for instructing me in it. I am most grateful."

"That’s good Buddy. I knew you’d like it, just a tame version of Deathgliders. Sailing is just one of the many things I want to show you. My world has much to offer -- good and bad. I want you to have a complete picture, just in case."

"Just in case?"

"Yeah, I may not always be there when you have to make a choice. I just want you to have enough experience to see though the shades of meaning, be able to make an informed choice or a wise decision."

My hands are scrabbling around on the ground; one is suddenly filled with a long wand of wood. I fiddle with it as I mull over the deep thoughts of this evening’s discussion.

"Indeed."

"Like the little tussle at the docks today."

I wave my new stick though the air to emphasize my words.

"You will explain?"

"I’ll try. I’m not really sure of the history of the tradition; I’m an aviator, not a sailor. Although a lot of flyers, sail. Airplanes and sailboats both use the air and wind. When sailing became a sport, competition changed, no longer for money but honors. Rules were created and sailing became safer. I’d guess that tossing the winner into the water was a way for the loser to burn off their embarrassment or aggression. A safe way to have contact in a non-contact sport. It’s also a good way to bring the winner back down from their emotional high too. Recently, dumping Champaign over their heads replaced that tradition in the big expensive races, but the old way is alive and well in the little clubs that race boats."

Looking down I have somehow scratched an illustrative picture of my talk into the dirt.

I passed a boot across them.

"So no harm was intended. It was a form of camaraderie, showing acceptance of the outcome?"

"Yeah, that’s pretty close. Being a tradition there is no one reason for it. It just is."

I poke my long stick into the fire creating a shower of sparks; I follow them upwards tilting my head back.

"It is the same on Chulak, some traditions have lost the original rational behind them. We perform them but do not understand why."

"Ya got it." I stab a finger of congratulations towards him.

Teal’c’s face is illuminated by the flicking flames, but the most important part of his visage is hidden beneath that very necessary watch cap. I wave a casual finger towards him.

"I miss it, glistening in the campfires of the worlds we’ve visited, that sight has always comforted me."

"It gladdens my heart that it can be appreciated in that way, too often it creates fear."

"Don’t get me wrong Teal’c, it’s not the symbol, but the person under it. You comfort me, sappy I know, but you do."

***

…I was honored that my presence could comfort him. As I hope that telling you this might bring some comfort to you also, DanielJackson."

I had observed him closely during my telling of last weekend; he is now calmer, less fearful.

Should I tell him more?

***

"We’ve found something, and I could use your help." Janet tells me as she stands in the Trauma Room’s doorway.

I nod and follow her into the room; the Colonel is there, alone? Where are all the nurses? Wait, there is one here, just hidden behind a cart of equipment. I push down my sudden anger that he had been alone.

Surprisingly sudden and burning.

The Colonel’s lying on his stomach, his face turned away from me, I can only see the back of his head. I know that he is naked, only covered by a sheet pulled just past the small of his back, tucked under his body above his narrow hips. Those heinous scars he never acknowledges, except in nightmares, are now visible.

I try not to look, but I look anyway.

I seldom see them.

The only one I really know about is the new burn on his arm where the Reetou’s weapon hit him, so recent that it’s still shiny pink. The ones across his back from sheet to shoulders are old, very old, like whip marks. I cringe at the thought, they probably are. I force the thoughts away, back into their little box and await Janet’s instructions.

Janet has some rolled towels on a tray next to the gurney he’s on. His upper body positioned under a large high intensity light array, the kind found in every hospital in the nation.

"Help me lift his shoulders, I need to prop him high enough to cushion his head in a more vertical position."

"Okay."

I lift one shoulder, than the other as she places folded towel pads under them. She used the rolled one to cushion his face, keeping him from laying directly on the table nose first. The back of his head is now totally exposed; I think ‘snake.’

‘Holy Hannah!’

"Janet…" I turned frightened eyes to her. My God! That is the Colonel’s greatest fear, being snaked.

"Oh, no, no. Not Goa’uld. Look."

She brushes the Colonel’s hair slowly upwards at the nape of his neck, there now exposed to the light are little half-inflated sacks, just a bit smaller than the nail of my little finger.

She hands me a magnifying glass to get a better look.

"They look like really big bee stingers." I jump as one pulses unexpectedly. "Oh, yes, they’re still pumping their contents. Janet shouldn’t we get them out?" I ask in a panicky voice.

"We will, in time, the damage is already done and I don’t want to compound it by messing up the retrieval of samples by being hasty. I have people rounding up equipment right now. We’ll have them removed in a few minutes."

As if planned the door bursts open, people pour in dragging equipment of all descriptions. The Colonel is the eye of a hurricane of activity. More blood is taken for specific tests, as the Colonel is equipped with a compact array of monitoring equipment.

Sampling instruments and containers are placed nearby as two lighted magnifiers, one to each side of the Colonel, is set up. I find a tall stool thrust at me. Just as abruptly the storm subsides, leaving me seated over the Colonel. My eye travels across that toned but scarred back to Janet seated across the Colonel’s comatose body on an identical stool adjusting her magnifier.

One nurse remains near the door, awaiting ‘the sample.’ Janet shows just why she is who she is. She deafly bends down, magnifier between her and the Colonel’s head, to extract one of the little sacks, then another, a third.

Placing them in a petri dish, she drops the cover on and hands it to the nurse who literally sprints from the room.

It’s for the Colonel and I think that SGC personnel try a little harder when it’s one of their own at stake.

I feel pride at the thought.

I return my attention to Janet as she resumes extracting the venom sacs, another seven, making a total of ten in all. She next performs tissue sampling at the injection sites. I cringe at the size of the needle she uses to core out samples from the Colonel’s scalp, that has to hurt.

Every move Janet makes is precise and purposeful to protect each vital sample from contamination and to ensure the best information possible. The nurse has returned but she doesn’t stay long as Janet hands her the rest of the samples.

She sprints away.

"Sam, can you help me check him over for anything that might give us any clues to the identity of the creature that did this. I really can’t imagine him allowing anything to get close enough to do this."

She is unconsciously stroking the Colonel’s upper arm, comforting him.

"He must not have felt anything when it happened, I’m sure he would have been yelling bloody murder if he had. He yells louder when a mosquito bites him than when he is hit with a staff blast."

That image eases my turmoil at seeing him helpless like this.

"Yes, he’s good at broadcasting his minor distress, it would be nice if he was as vocal with the major trauma though."

As she dryly responds a slight grimace crosses her face. Her hand suddenly stills on his arm. I can almost see her shake herself from her own mental images as she lifts that hand and returns her attention to her task.

Janet begins to scan the skin of his neck and upper back for any kind of marks and I bend over the Colonel peering though the magnifier, using a comb to systematically search though his hair looking for anything that might help.

I spot a few flakes of color, and, using a scalpel I collect them onto a slide.

I’m thinking about what kind of creature could get so close to a human without alarming them. From the colored flecks around the sting wounds, a brightly colored one at that. My thoughts wander down branches of inquiry trying to analyze what I’m finding and correlate it to what I know. I try posing questions to expand in other directions. I need to get the General to get a team back to that planet to get my samples and look for this creature.

I need someone to help…

I shudder violently as I realize what I’m doing, I have forgotten who I’m so callously examining, a man that means a great deal to me, someone I would like to get closer to.

"Sam?"

"God Janet what kind of person am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I totally forgot that this is the Colonel. I was off thinking about, well… ‘scientific stuff ’ as the Colonel is fond of calling it."

"But Sam, that is why you’re here. He would understand that. He needs you to think about ‘scientific stuff.’ Detaching yourself is not a bad thing; it allows you to view the situation clinically, calmly. Giving the Colonel the benefit of your best tool, your mind."

I nod my understanding, he needs me to do this, and I can do no less than my best. I still feel horrible about my lapse.

"I’ll take this sample to my lab and examine it more closely. First I’ll talk to the General about getting a team out to the planet to retrieve my samples and search for the creature that caused this."

"Sounds good, but talk to the guys on you way out, let them know what’s going on. I still have things to do here."

"Okay."

***

My attention is jerked towards the door behind which lies my brother, fighting for his life.

CaptainCarter returns; I indicate the door to DanielJackson.

He hurriedly stands, desperately trying to compose himself for her sake, he knows that his friend and CaptainCarter hold deep feelings for each other, very different then those held for us.

"Daniel are you alright?" CaptainCarter appears to be inspecting his person critically, sighing slightly. She includes me in her next statement.

"You should both find somewhere more comfortable to wait. He’s in no immediate danger and Janet isn’t going to let us anywhere near him until she’s finished cleaning him up and settling him into a bed."

"I really have to see him Sam." His voice is deep and hoarse with badly suppressed emotion; he grips her arm in his pain.

"You’ll have to convince Janet, but she’s busy with him right now. Do you really want to take her away from the Colonel?"

Her voice is soft, reassuring but also hints of her own pain. She pats his arm attempting to comfort him.

"Well… no. How did he look?"

His tight grip on her becomes a gliding stroke of returned comfort. They stand very close sharing their mutual distress.

"He really doesn’t look bad, not at all like he normally does when he’s in the infirmary. Janet says that everything is fine except that he’s not waking up and, he… looks peaceful; relaxed… it’s strange to see him that way"

"It's like spying on him in his sleep."

I can see a glistening in her eyes as she deepens her visual contact with DanielJackson. He too is near to tears, but each seems determined not to cry before the other.

I have observed that Tau’ri seem to feel the need to erect ‘a brave front’ as O’Neill terms it, in times such as these.

"Yes, that stuck me too when I first saw him after getting him out the water."

His face begins to show his pain, a tear flows down the cheek that I can see but she cannot.

Now is the time to distract them, before they succeed in pushing themselves even deeper into their fears.

"CaptainCarter, what is that in your hand."

"Oh, it’s something we found in his hair. I’m going to my lab to put it under magnification; it could provide clues to the creature that did this to the Colonel. First, I need to get the General to send a team back to get more samples for me. Go on Daniel, take Teal’c with you, you both need to eat. Janet will take care of the Colonel."

CaptainCarter pushes him away, ducking her head in encouragement at him.

Then she hurries away toward the elevators and GeneralHammond.

I agree with CaptainCarter’s suggestion to eat and rest, although I believe that I will be doing the ‘taking’ rather than DanielJackson.

"Perhaps we should take our conversation to the Commissary." I suggest even as I gently begin steering him down the hallway.

"What?… Oh, I don’t…"

"CaptainCarter was quite plain that we cannot see O’Neill for some time, time which can go quickly with occupation. I do have other stories that I can impart."

He resists my gentle shepherding. I apply more pressure.

"Well… that offer is hard to turn down. We should shower first though, shall we?"

"Indeed."

***

My gut and heart says 'GO!', but all my training says 'weigh all the options and make a militarily sound command decision.'

Damn it, there’s a man’s life hung in the balance!

Yes, I know that going with my heart can place other men’s lives in the balance also and my gut moves on similar lines. This is a friend, do I dare endanger others because of my feelings?

He wouldn’t. So neither then can I.

Captain Carter urgently needs her samples that she left behind. She blames herself for being shortsighted in the face of a crisis. I hope I talked some sense into her. Anyone would have done the exact thing she did, get their teammate safely home, the hell with the rest!

I must also consider her request that the team sent should search for the creature that caused this whole mess although that might be asking for trouble. I’ll consider it carefully; I’ll ask the leader of that team his opinion.

As for the team, I’ve already had three team leaders demanding the mission.

The Colonel is greatly respected, by all, but nearly worshiped by his fellow team leaders.

Major Ferretti, SG-2, is the most demanding of all. He is right, they are the Number Two Team -- they get nearly as many of the tough jobs as SG-1, and they’re trained for it.

This team in particular would walk through fire to help Colonel ‘Jack’ O’Neill, as he would for them.

Teal’c has also offered to return to the planet with the same mission in mind, maybe I can send him with SG-2. He does know the lay of the land. Yes, I think that would be best. If SG-2 falls afoul of the elusive creature, he, if anyone, can get them home. He understands the relationship between them and the Colonel; he would consider failure unacceptable.

Daniel Jackson, also has come to tell me that he will be returning to the planet, ‘Jack needs someone to get to the bottom of this’ he said. I explained to him that he wasn’t qualified for such a mission. He became passionately angry, just as passionate as O’Neill would be if their roles were reversed. I asked him just who would remain here with O’Neill?

He became quiet then -- I could see him reconsidering. I offered up the idea that I would most likely be sending Teal’c with the chosen team, that seemed to push his decision in the right direction. He apologized for being ‘an ass’ and that he was hanging out with Jack way too much.

I found it difficult not to smile at such a true statement.

My most important visitor was Captain Dr. Janet Frasier; her report is pivotal to any decision I may make. Her report was not as conclusive as I had hoped. The venom in O’Neill’s system is still unknown and may never be analyzed to anyone’s satisfaction. She can only describe the symptoms, only guessing at the mechanisms at work in the man’s body to cause them. She has no idea if he will recover, remain as he is or worsen and die. Having the creature in hand may or may not solve the problem. What she could tell me was that the estimation of the size of the creature postulated from the scales and venom sacs found on O’Neill would preclude something too small to see.

Captain Carter and one of the xeno-zooloogists stationed here have surmised that the creature is brightly colored, about the size of an open hand and may be able to fly, but can certainly crawl, evidenced by the location of the venom sacs and scales.

It’s just something that is very unlikely to sneak up on a man, but must appear completely innocent for someone like our very suspicious Colonel to allow it to get anywhere near him -- let alone touch him.

With this in mind, I believe that sending a team to the planet is an acceptable risk. Add to that the value of retrieving the base of the ‘lawnboard,’ only O’Neill could come up with a name like that, and it’s attendant advancement of our technical knowledge, I would be remiss in not sending a team. I will personally apprise them of the dangers on the mission and allow any who wish to back out to do so. I really don’t expect any to, but some of them do have families, they may feel obligated to stand down.

No stigma will be attached to any man who does so. I understand that and so does Colonel O’Neill.

***

"I’m Sorry I’m late Teal’c." I stop outside the Commissary. Having slowed from a half trot to make up time, hoping Teal’c hadn’t noticed my absence.

"You left while I was dressing."

Is that accusation and disapproval I see -- or do I hear that and think I see it? He did notice I ditched him.

Is Teal’c angry?

"Ah, yes… I did, I should have said something about that. I went to talk to the General about going back to P3R-336."

If need be, I will stand up to Teal’c on this, what I did was for Jack. Surely, he couldn’t fault me for my concern? He can be far more reasonable than Jack.

"As have I."

Now just why that slams into me, I’m not certain. He too has a close relationship with Jack; he would be just as concerned about him as I am.

"You spoke to the General too?"

Of course he did! He’s so like Jack in that way, a man of action. Teal’c would refuse to sit around when he could be back on that planet looking for answers.

"Just moments ago."

"So, I’m not really late?" I plaster a hopeful look on my face. Maybe he’s not too mad, just disappointed.

"Fortunately, that is so."

What he has just said would frighten anyone else, but knowing him, he's just expressing his relief that he didn’t have to track me down. He has a great deal of experience doing it too.

"We could have gone to the General together." ‘If I had confided in him that is.’

"The outcome would be the same."

‘Ah, Teal’c won the argument.’ Not very surprising, as his arguments all have a practical logic to them. His face is still stern. Guess I’m not entirely forgiven yet.

"Oh, he told you?"

"Yes, I agree. You need to stay with O’Neill, he may have need of your help."

"Teal’c, a hunch?" ‘What does he see that I don’t?’

"I do have something like that, as does O’Neill. Mine are just infrequent."

"Maybe, but no less important. What about the rest of that story?"

I still want to hear about them together, Jack is not a very open person. He presents a different face to each person he deals with. Teal’c’s story will show me another side of Jack.

"Food, then story."

"Teal’c you sound like a father."

"I am."

***

Teal’c and I took more time to wind our way though the Commissary line than what should be humanly possible.

We found ourselves accosted at every turn by questions about Jack. Everyone stopped and inquired about him, expressing their concern about his welfare. I found it hard to discuss him with this multitude of well-wishers. Teal’c treated each with dignity and patience, honoring them with his time to answer them properly.

I guess it’s his way of showing his respect to them for thinking of Jack and to Jack knowing that these people are his people.

When Jack is unable to perform his duties, which Jack seldom will admit to, Teal’c has developed a tendency to step in. He can’t actually do Jack’s job, but he does his best to be there. Like keeping Sam and I from starving ourselves, making us rest, keeping the General informed. Easing any pressure that could reach Jack when he’s not one hundred percent.

A shield.

We do eventually make it to a table, an empty one.

The crowd has thinned out, maybe Teal’c’s patient attention to every inquiry caused this. It would be difficult to sit here as a whole room of full of people stared at us hoping for a crumb of information about their Colonel. I really hadn’t thought of that.

It is a military thing, like a big family.

Teal’c answering everyone was forward planning for just this result, no staring crowd.

I keep forgetting that Teal’c, like Jack, does nothing without a reason. Each action and word part of a long term all encompassing plan of action. Jack may act like he hasn’t a clue when in reality the opposite is true; everyone around him is clueless. He knows exactly what he is doing and how to get each and every one of us to do what he needs us to do.

The clueless don’t reach the rank of colonel.

I eat in silence as Teal’c watches. He is very much a father right now; maybe that is why he and Jack clicked that day. Two worried fathers deep in 'protect mode', instinctively recognizing each other and forging an unbreakable bond of trust in the blink of an eye. Theirs is an alliance born out of their mutual need to do something, anything for those helpless people.

I think about that day often, about Sha’re… Actually, I try not to think about her that day. Or about the shameful way I collapsed into a dangerous despair that would have prevented me from ever getting her back, such a childish thing to have done. Instead, I mull over all the other events constantly trying not to think about Sha're and my reaction.

Actually, what happened between Jack and Teal’c that day is what I think of most.

If you watch them together, you soon realize that they are in awe of one another.

Jack’s awe is about Teal’c giving up everything to join him. Making a jump into the unknown. That awe deepened when he discovered that Teal’c had also given up his wife and child and yet said nothing. I think that scared Jack a little; actually that scared him a lot.

Jack has a tendency to feel responsible for things that happen around him.

Though some of our little midnight chats I’ve pieced together the idea that Jack is unhappy that he somehow forced Teal’c away from being with his family. Leading him astray and being the cause of Teal’c’s family falling into the situation in which he first encountered them, in poverty and deprivation.

Forcing Rya’c to be implanted.

I argued long and hard against that view, he reluctantly gave in on the surface, but deep down he still feels he is to blame.

Teal’c’s awe is more abstract.

To him Jack represents a lofty ideal, freedom for his people. I am so grateful that this idea has never occurred to Jack, I don’t think that he could really live with it. Teal’c unknowingly places an impossible burden on Jack. One Jack would strive to carry.

Unsuccessfully.

Teal’c’s hope is just too heavy for any one man to carry. I’m not sure that the Earth itself could carry such a burden.

Each man feels a responsibility to the other, Jack is the father/protector of all of SG-1 and a little more so to Teal’c. He nurtures Teal’c, encouraging his exploration of his new freedom.

Teal’c’s role is similar in regards to SG-1, protector. However, with Jack he is the loyal follower and that is such a poor description. He protects SG-1 so that Jack can do what is necessary to complete the mission.

Teal’c enables Jack to do his job without worry and with full concentration, but he also tries to protect him and back him up. It’s a fine line to support without interfering, even when Jack usually seems bent on getting himself killed in the process!

I’m nearly finished eating before Teal’c begins eating, efficiently, without haste, but swiftly.

"All finished?" I ask. Teal’c scrutinizes my tray before answering.

"Yes, it appears that I am." I can’t help it I chuckle, sometime he is deliberately, blatantly transparent.

"Story?" Dim memories of my own father echo faintly in my mind, I find that I desperately need to hear more.

"As promised, there is more that I can tell you about what O’Neill and I have done together."

"Please, you see a very different Jack than I do, go on."

"More than a year ago O’Neill suffered an injured leg by being thrown from Earth’s second Stargate."

"He was in physio-therapy off base for weeks during recovery, didn’t you often go with him to those appointments?"

"You are correct. It is then that I saw O’Neill swimming. I asked him what it was like…

***

"You’ve never been swimming?"

I’m standing here in practically nothing, just my speedo, dripping on the edge of the Academy pool. No doubt a foolish look of disbelief on my face and I really need to sit down; my leg is throbbing like a son of a bitch.

The cast has been off for almost a week and swimming is all I’m allowed beyond therapy, not that I would want to do much more than this, the pain you know?

"That is correct."

"Why?"

The gaps in Teal’c’s experiences are puzzling and shocking. However, considering how the Goa’uld think those gaps really shouldn’t come as such a surprise to me, but, this is a thing that kids discover early!

‘Did he have so little of childhood?’

"I do not know, this is the first I have seen or heard of it."

"Well, it is cold on Chulak, but you lived elsewhere before Chulak didn't you?"

I begin to hobble over to the benches along the wall, Teal’c is immediately beside me. I have been unable to convince him that I’m not going to fall down, at least not often.

"Yes, but I was very young and later as a new Jaffa spent much of my time in Ha’tak vessels."

"Ah, no leisure time. I’m still surprised; it’s a survival skill here. Just how much open water have you seen on Chulak."

"Ponds."

"Ponds?"

Making it to the long benches I ease down and lift my leg up to rest on it as I lean my side into the wall. I close my eyes for a moment savoring the relief, on opening them I find that I have alarmed Teal’c just a tad. Recently he’s gone from thinking we Tau’ri wear as well as Jaffa to the exact opposite, that we’ll croak at the slightest tap.

He’s been hovering over me ever since I was airlifted back from Antarctica, being worse than Daniel or the Doc.

"Very small ponds."

"Kinda cold too. ‘Very small ponds.’ No municipal pools there either, huh?"

Teal’c raises that eyebrow, I’ve stumped him again, but it’s getting harder to do his language skills are better than mine now.

Damn, no large bodies of water and too cold to want to get wet, even kids have some sense. Jaffa children are very mature, like small adults. Must have something to do with becoming incubators so early in life, no time for fun. Teal’c needs to have a little fun and I think I can arrange that.

"Would you like to try it?"

"Yes."

***

…It was of course nearly two weeks before O’Neill was able to arrange for me to ‘try it.’ "

I am satisfied that DanielJackson has settled comfortably during the beginning of my tale, as was my plan. I encourage him to refill his coffee mug before I continue.

He does so eagerly.

I do not know if he desires more coffee or more of my experiences with O’Neill. Either reason will distract him from his worry.

He returns.

"Jack must have been in a lot of pain at those appointments?"

He asks me as he settles down, becoming comfortable. He gives me his avid attention.

"I observed some indication of that, yes. Yet it did not ‘bother him as much as it bothered everyone else’ as he said."

"Yes, typical Jack. About the swimming?"

He is impatient for the story -- coffee is secondary.

"Indeed. O’Neill was concerned about ‘Junior’ and exposure to the chemicals in the pool water. He was worried that the water would enter my womb and ‘cause problems.’ "

"Did it… cause problems?"

"It did not. O’Neill procured a clear adhesive covering from DoctorFrasier large enough to cover my pouch opening. He took great care in applying it."

I clearly remember that not once did he show the disgust that I know he strongly feels for ‘Junior’ or any other symbiote. The measures he took to ensure my safety humbles me. In our mock combats together, I have felt the steel of his fingers, but on that day, when he covered my pouch I was reminded that he is more than just a warrior.

He is a compassionate caring leader also.

"O’Neill had arranged everything…

***

Teal’c stood up and I took a critical look. The surgical covering was snugly in place across his bare stomach just above his swim trunks. I got him trunks because I think that 'speedos' can be a bit confining and I wanted him comfortable for his first ‘swim.’ I slowly limp around him, he’s massive in uniform, but here nearly nude he’s somehow larger. There’s so much muscle, I don’t see any fat anywhere and that’s going to be a problem, no buoyancy.

Teal’c will be like one honking huge rock in the water...

"How does it feel?"

"Strange."

"Strange? How?" A prickle of worry raises goosebumps along my arms. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea?

"As if something is stuck to my skin."

"Teal’c!…" I laugh at that. He can be so funny. "…I expect it does." ‘Was that a joke!’

I’ve been using one of the pools here at the Academy, arranging to have it privately. Being a colonel does have its advantages. Also, I used my bum leg as an excuse too. Sympathy opens a lot of doors. Besides, getting knocked down in my condition by an excited Cadet is not my idea of fun, that concrete out there is hard. So, getting Teal’c a place to swim was easy.

"Are you ready for this Buddy?"

"Yes."

I have no clue to his feelings, I’m still learning to read him. I walk him out of the locker room to the edge of the pool, pausing at the handrail over the steps down into the water.

"We’re just going to step down into the water and wade out about chest deep. I want to make sure that there are no leaks. Okay?"

"I understand."

My leg is still a little weak, so I hang onto the rail tight as I back down into the water watching Teal’c’s reactions.

This is a lot of water for someone who has no experience with it. Well, except for that disaster on P3R-636. I hope he doesn’t remember walking into and under that sea. I have distinct memories of suffocating there, along with those confusing memories of Daniel dying. They’re still fresh, catching me unprepared at the oddest times; Janet keeps telling me that they’ll fade.

When?!

"How do you feel."

"This is pleasurable."

"Any leaks?"

"No."

"Okay, now the hard part. You'll have to trust me and that'll be hard. I want you to lean back into the water slowly…" I place a hand under his back as he begins to lie back. "…Now let your feet float up to the surface, I’ll hold you up."

His eyes are a little wide, body a little tense. I move closer to provide better support.

"Now relax. Think kelno'reem."

I feel his muscles begin to loosen. He starts to float, well, kinda. He rides a little deep, all that muscle, but he’s staying on the surface. Maybe there’s air trapped in his pouch?

My eyes flash down to his stomach checking the seal. I talked to Janet about doing this and she had no idea if there would be any ill effects. Jaffa have been around for probably more than a thousand years, getting water or contaminants in that pouch has probably occurred at some time and if Teal’c has no adverse knowledge there probably isn’t any.

Probably safe, but I’m not taking that chance.

"That’s it. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am 'okay'. This is… pleasantly disconcerting."

Wow. Mixed emotions. Is that a little smile I see?

I get him really relaxed, gently towing him back to the shallow end. He’s so deep into meditating I don’t think he realizes what I’m doing. I stabilize his float and I move back into the deep water. I watch awhile, he’s ready for Plan B.

"Teal’c I want you to draw your arms in towards your body while cupping your hands, pulling against the water. Okay, that’s good. Now push your arms back out and do it again. Just pull against the water when you bring you hands back in. That’s it. Keep it going."

He slowly moves towards me until I can lightly rest my hand on his back again. His reaction to my touch is impressively minor, just a little tremble in the muscles under my fingers. He has a handle on his emotions, mastering any fear. I know that I would be afraid if I’d never been in the water before. I smile and give him the good news.

"That’s great Teal’c. Did you enjoy you first swim?"

***

…I did enjoy that first swim and each one after that. I especially enjoyed learning to ‘cannonball.’ "

"You’re kidding!"

"I assure you that I am not. O’Neill tells me that no one can ‘cannonball’ better than I. We competed for size of splash. He conceded victory to me."

That day I discovered what ‘fun’ was I will never be able to thank my brother for teaching me that.

"With O’Neill’s help, I discovered that kelno'reem while immersed is deeply refreshing."

"As in holding your breath?"

"Indeed."

"For how long?"

"Currently, eight minutes."

***

Janet tells me that there has been no change in his condition, he breathes, his heart pumps blood, all of his autonomic functions, well… function. His non-autonomic functions though, don’t.

I'm sitting here in the chair from hell waiting.

Even if the chair wasn’t from hell, it would be sitting here in this hell. My friend lies in limbo, hell’s waiting room. The only good thing in this entire room, except for a living Jack, is the folded towel I swiped to cushion the hell chair.

Jack would find this really rather funny.

‘Why all of the current religious talk?’ I can just hear him. ‘I thought that you were into ancient religions, way before the heaven and hell thing.’ I would then have to explain that heaven and hell is as old as man’s first thoughts, like he didn’t already know. He just likes to get me going, actually he likes to see how ‘fast’ he can get me going.

‘Jack please get better, who will get me all wound up again?’

I’ve been talking to him, but this once he isn’t listening. I feel that something is turned off, that he isn’t there.

That really scares me more than I want to think about.

SG-2 and Teal’c left for P3R-336 six hours ago. They immediately sent Sam’s samples back as fast as they could dial up and she and some others have been studying them.

Ferretti visited before leaving, he told me that he and Teal’c would return to where Jack collapsed, that they would take his route there, he didn’t want to miss anything that might help. He’s a good man, he thinks highly of Jack, looking up to him as the excellent role model he is.

Of course, Jack doesn’t believe he is, just as he believes that he has no right to happiness. He’s lived though too many tragedies; he can’t see his own true worth. Maybe he never will. He holds himself to an impossible to attain standard.

I reach over and place my hand upon Jack’s arm; I need to feel his warmth, to assure myself that at least his body is here, I just wish I knew where his mind is.

***

‘Captain Carter!"

I turn to see what has Captain Jenkins so excited.

"Holy Hannah!"

Right there in front of me is the creature, it’s beautiful, the Colonel would be unable to resist it, he would revert into that little boy that surfaces playfully from time to time.

Just seeing it brings a smile to my face and joy to my heart, I can just see his face when he saw…

‘Shit!’

This creature attacked the Colonel. Why am I thinking such cherishable thoughts about it, I should be pinning it to the wall with a very large pin, with extreme prejudice.

Does it broadcast a telepathic message? ‘Love me so I can kill you.’

"Captain, what were your thoughts when you first saw it, I need to know exactly."

"Well, this is embarrassing, but I was in awe of its beauty, hoping that it would come closer, that I could hold it. I very much wanted it to fly over and land on me. Weird huh?"

"No, not at all. It’s perfect, it encourages it’s victims to willing submit to being stung."

Captain Jenkins looks startled and begins to back away from the ‘butterfly’ as I look for a container to capture it in.

Jenkins has allowed it to escape in his induced rapture.

Hope swells in my heart.

***

The lab report in my hand makes absolutely no sense; the only thing I do understand is that there is a significant amount of isobutylphenyl propionic acid present in his bloodstream. The Colonel’s knee must be acting up, why else would I find that much Advil in his system? He been using it’s anti-inflammatory properties and it being a painkiller helps.

‘I have a good idea why that is showing in the analysis, but does it have anything to do with what is going on?’

Over the last 24 hours I’ve had three complete chemical analysis of Colonel O’Neill’s blood done, enough to chart out the quantity of chemical debris in his system. Inputting the numbers into the line graph shows some interesting tendencies, I’m no chemist, but I do need to understand some biochemistry. As the painkiller decreases the unidentifiable debris increase, but is there a symptomatic manifestation also?

Cross checking neural responses against the increase in debris is alarming, reflexes have decreased, respirations have lowered slightly, light stimulus reaction is decreasing and pupil size is increasing.

Is the venom self-replicating? On Earth, there are molecules that can replicate chemically by using a crude key template method. Thereby increasing its solution ratio, very rare and only under even rarer conditions. This is an offworld venom, perhaps it can do that easier. I just hope it can’t do it a lot easier.

Otherwise, we’ve lost the Colonel before we even got this far.

What puzzles me is why is it replicating now, if that’s what it’s doing. Was something inhibiting it? The only likely candidate would be the painkiller he’s been taking. A little experimentation can prove or disprove my theory, but only if I can get enough of the venom to run the tests.

I pick up the phone, dial the medical lab, and ask if they have used all of the venom sacs we removed from the Colonel.

The news is good.

They have four left.

I call Sam next to let her know of my findings, she might have found something new too.

***

Damn it!

Nothing works!

This stuff was just too… alien.

He is going to die and I can’t do anything to prevent it.

Janet provided the proof that something is going on, but the tests she’s done doesn’t bear out our conclusions.

He is going to die.

I’ve seen the graphs of his neural responses, they’re decreasing, and when they decrease enough… he will die.

Damn it!

It’s Antarctica all over again; I hold all the cards but can’t see the solution right in front of me.

I… I can’t help it.

I watch the tears splatter across my work surface, drenching the result of these futile experiments. The tests that condemn him and me. The spreading of the stains used on the slides though the puddles of tears mesmerize me.

One slide lying across another different colored slide mingle their colors, so pretty, so useless, so…

Holy Hannah!

I shove them both under the microscope, what is happening. This isn’t right; I’ve already proved that this doesn’t work. This can’t be, but it is. How can I duplicate it?

Tears!

Saline solution, salt, sodium chloride. It’s… well, it’s so alien.

We don’t really know the chemical formula for the venom… it is alien.

I can’t logic it to death, but I can ding it to death. So far, ordinary chemicals affect it. That ‘that acid’ or painkiller slows it down, salt helps the acid to stop it.

Is there something that can be used to remove it?

I hurriedly set up an experiment using salt and the acid. I introduce it to the venom. It… It… I don’t know what it just did but the venom doesn’t do anything now, it’s inert.

I have absolutely no idea why.

Nanites! Could this be a molecular evolution of nanites? The Ancients were probably advanced enough to create molecular machines. That would be beyond any current culture’s level of scientific knowledge. What better way to produce molecular machines but by creating a living, breathing creature that can secrete them, which explains the ‘butterflies.’

What I don't get is why the telepathic lure?

If I had created this, I would want to be able to disable it easily. Very easily, by using readily available medications to halt it’s program, or chemical imperative.

It makes sense, it’s logical, the Ancients were… are a logical race.

Salt is in every living thing, it’s needed for cell chemical reactions. That can be used as first line deterrent if the molecular nanites found themselves where they should not be, slowing any damage, making treatment possible. The acid would be the means to further slow or stop their actions.

What would destroy them or remove them from the environment they’re accidentally introduced to?

I don’t have enough raw venom to test every imaginable substance to find those two answers. I have to arrive at them logically, but how can I do that if I don’t understand the first thing about the culture that originally constructed the logic. I can’t.

I wonder how far Daniel has gotten on translating what he found on P3R-336.

There might some answers to this problem there.

***

Teal’c has returned, he and Ferretti were unable to find any more of the ‘butterflies.’ They didn’t know that was what they were looking for, but the description they did have would have fit them to a tee, but they didn’t see any at all. Sam and Janet think that even if they had it wouldn’t help Jack. We do have that one stowaway from the samples, now Sam’s prize possession. She is reluctant to dissect it, but milks it for fluids, analyzing everything that she can without damaging it too much.

Janet has been trying a few things that Sam has suggested. She’s raised the sodium level in Jack’s body, but that can have all kinds of adverse effects, so she’s also injected that painkiller he had been using before he was stung. Both are helping, her tests show that, but she can’t reverse the effects enough to get him to wake up. At least he isn’t in danger of dying, Janet’s sure of that.

However, he may never waken if she or Sam don’t come up with something.

Sam has asked me to continue working on the translations of the inscriptions that I found and recorded at the buildings near the gate, I never really got to finish recording them though. What with Jack’s collapse and our hurried trip home to get him help. General Hammond asked for my recording equipment and a description of what didn’t get recorded, I just couldn’t give an adequate answer, I don’t remember exactly and too much has happened since then.

Realizing that I had no answer for him, he told me SG-2 would record everything, as if I’d never been there.

I wish.

I could tell the General’s worried about Jack too. He always ducks in when someone is injured, but only for Jack does he come in the middle of the night, well except once or twice when I was here, but so was Jack. His relationship with Jack is much like Jack’s with me, kind of an older mentor/father figure relationship. I know that Jack deeply respects him. Jack’s own father, rarely mentioned, is another of those wounds on his soul. It’s one of the few things that he and I have in common, a distinct lack of fatherly love.

I had it until my parent’s tragic deaths, but I don’t think Jack had even that much. I’ve always wondered where he learned to be such a good father with no example in his life.

I should be up there with him, keeping him safe. I have found it difficult to be there for him this time; he’s not really there. Even Teal’c feels that lack of what makes Jack... Jack.

Still he stands guard over the body that had housed Jack, hopeful, as I am that Sam and Janet will solve this.

She asked for my help and here I sit my mind going off on tangents when I should be translating.

Surely, something here can help?

***

Shoved into a corner of my lab is that ‘lawnboard socket’ from P3R-336, I have barely noticed it since it’s noisy arrival twelve hours ago. In that time I have reasoned out a line of experimentation into the ‘molecular nanite’ problem and promptly reasoned myself out of it.

I stare at my captive, so beautiful, so damningly dangerous.

If I let myself, I can fall under its spell, which I now know is not telepathy. Pheromones like those that Hathor used, but unlike Hathor’s these are not a one shot deal. It was a relief, minor, but a relief that it wasn’t mind control of some kind. Everyone at the SGC has been tested for esper abilities, and been rated. The Colonel tested the highest before the Ancients download. I’m thankful that General Hammond kept the testing and ratings his tightly held secret, if the NID ever found it, some of us would undoubtedly disappear.

Just guess who they would take first.

I was uneasy when the General started the telepathy investigation right after our mission to Nem’s world. As I learn more about wormhole physics and actually see more of the universe beyond the Gate I have come to accept the existence of the whole line of what Earth believes to be a ‘pseudo science’ which includes telepathy.

I would rather deal with good old fashioned pheromones; I can detect them, analyze them and neutralize them. My poor captive here is the worst for wear because of the analyzing phase. I don’t even know what to feed it. I’ve given it plain water and sugar water, it has touched neither, and it’ll probably die of shock, like a bird does after it collides with a car.

Glancing at my watch, I’m surprised that it’s after 2:00 a.m.

I should get something to eat, shower and sleep. I’ve analyzed all I can analyze of the ‘butterfly.’

I lock up my lab, but instead of heading toward the showers, my feet first carry me to the Colonel.

I walk though a thankfully quiet and dim Infirmary towards his private room, peeking around the doorjamb I find that he is not alone. Janet stands near the head of the bed holding one of the Colonel’s large, elegantly long fingered hands in both of hers, clutching it to her chest, she is muttering softly to him. Some reports and folders are resting near his covered feet. The low light at the bed head softly illuminates his lean, handsome, still sun-burnished face. My gaze continues over his rugged stubbled jaw, which is in direct contrast to his boyish long lashed eyes beneath soft graying temples and reddish brown cap of soft bristly hair. The lack of tension in his features wipes away many of the hard years he has experienced, giving him an almost angelic present, one of God’s warrior angels come to Earth.

So appropriate for the Colonel, warrior angel, savior of Earth, venerated by the Asgard, indulgently tolerated by the Nox, suffered silently by the Tollan, respected by the Tok’ra, feared by the Goa’uld, but most of all loved by me, Daniel and Teal’c.

Oh, we’re not the only ones in love with him, Janet and Cassie, the General, Ferretti, even the Marines of SG-3 are too. Everyone knows that this man would lay down his life for any of us, even a Tok’ra. He always survives, always wins the day, mostly, and he never quits.

Seeing him, here, now... I have no answers and hope is hard to find without them.

Janet has seen me and swings her head in a silent ‘come hither.’ I close with her, my eyes on that lone tall body in the bed until I stop to look at her.

"He’s a very tactile person, not that he lets on. I think that maybe after his son, he was afraid to touch anymore but he always responds better if touched. Here, hold his hand and talk to him. I need a short break."

"Just a short one, I only stopped by before going to bed. I want to get an early start on this problem."

"Promise."

She leaves me in a situation I’ve dreamed about. This man and I, together... Just not quite in this way, me awake and him obvious to the world. I awkwardly hold his surprisingly heavy hand in mine, bringing my other up to grasp it too, both insist that I pull the lax limb to my breast to bear it’s comforting weight better. I find myself mirroring Janet’s position, I begin to speak to him, telling him about what I’ve done to date to get him out of this situation, I’m reporting.

My mouth speaks reassurances and details while my mind wanders down that avenue lined with my unspoken feelings for this man. I was attracted to him before I had ever met him. His report on Abydos spurred my mind to places I’d never imagined. His words sent shivers down my spine, the possibilities. When he stood up to me without ridiculing me, I fell hard. He was so different and as time and circumstances showed me more of him, I found even more to like. His boldness, the remoteness and sorrow he could project, his fierceness to protect others, his gentleness with many, even his stupid jokes and those beautiful eyes.

I definitely have feelings for Jack… no, the Colonel. He is my CO; I can’t afford to think of him as Jack. I don’t know if he has similar feelings, I don’t know if he still pines for his ex-wife, or even if he has a girlfriend. He is so private, he’ll talk and talk and never say a thing. Maybe one day, there can be more than friendship between us, but friendship’s enough for now. Just this level of emotional commitment to him will nearly kill me if he dies or doesn’t awaken. Just as it would for Daniel, Teal’c or Janet.

Maybe I’m lying to myself.

I reach over and brush my fingers though his hair, an indulgence that I had not permitted myself before. I had gone ‘all scientific’ as the Colonel would say, to my utter horror. Another sign that I’m lying to myself about this man. I push these thoughts from me, more complicated than any formula I know and revel in the sensations of touch. His hair is so soft. I trail my hand down his cheek feeling the burn of whiskers, lifting my hand I stroke it up his arm though the dark chestnut downy hair there to finally join in a two handed grasp of his hand.

Hearing Janet moving though the outer infirmary, I gently lower his hand to his side softly smoothing the limb into a comfortable position. Being able to touch him has renewed my faith in finding a solution. His advice, given whilst dying in Antarctica, regarding rest as a remedy to mental stalemate comes to mind. I am determined to rest for his sake.

I need a clear head; he needs my head clear.

I move across the room and, as Janet enters, I silently thank her and move on.

***

I stand outside O’Neill’s room. GeneralHammond is here.

Out of respect for my warrior brother’s CO, I leave him to visit in peace and solitude. He comes often, usually late at night. He sits close with a hand resting somewhere on O’Neill’s body and confides to him all the happenings of his day. As if he were the subordinate not the superior, his fond regard evident in every action.

I believe O’Neill holds similar feelings for the older warrior.

I have given my trust grudgingly in the past, but for O’Neill it was given instantly and without thought.

I have never regretted it.

I give my trust to all those who hold O’Neill’s trust. GeneralHammond was among the first to whom I gave that trust, I have been... disappointed, from time to time, but no longer. I have learned of the constraints of ‘Command’ - so different here than on Chulak. Personal honor does not necessarily lend itself to professional trust. That trust is not wholly in control of the person it is directed from. O’Neill has spent many hours imparting that wisdom to me, many desperate hours, a condition so foreign to his nature. It’s presence sharpened my resolve to comprehend, I am most thankful for the knowledge that now enables me to make wise decisions based on the subtle pressures of the politics of command.

Such politics must be similar in nature to that that takes place between individual Goa’uld. A parody of it, seeming the same on the surface, but Goa’uld have no honor. The pressures are not the same but the effects can be, Tau’ri politics have opened to me a new way of viewing the enemy, a new line of strategy to use. If brute force cannot be employed, guile can be. In this the Tok’ra see the truth, but not the whole truth or even the only truth.

The Tau’ri’s way is better, employ any and every weapon to overwhelm the enemy.

All out war.

O’Neill has explained to me that that is not true, that the Tau’ri have not engaged in ‘all out war.’

‘Hell, most of the planet doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s going on!’ Was his response. He told me the sad history of a ‘military police action’ his nation had undertook just before he came of age to enter combat. It was politically unpopular, even in the military; many died unnecessarily for a very important ideal. He fervently wishes to avoid repeating such an action. This was one of the few times I was thankful that he is as young as he is, to have lost such as he under conditions like that would truly be regretful.

He lives, and in living, he fights. With his hands, wits and every fiber of his being.

Yet, I am uneasy, his body resides within the room behind my back, but where is that which is O’Neill ?

I, like DanielJackson, do not feel his presence.

***

"I don’t know Sam, all I have here are dedications to the ‘fields of remembrance.’ "

Daniel flings down his pad of paper in disgust. ‘Why use that word?’

‘’Remembrance?’ "

"Yes, and something about ‘departures’ which falls in line with my idea of it being a transit point in the Gate system."

He’s back to that transfer point theory again, is that getting in the way of his thinking? I drag a chair over to him and tap a finger on the work surface before him, attracting his attention.

"Daniel, proof or supposition, can you be reading your own desires into your translation, I know you’re good, but this is the language of the Ancients. You had a hard time understanding the Colonel when he spoke it."

Daniel is easy to read. That’s what makes him so good at first contact. A total lack of guile. I watch him consider my question.

"Umm… that’s always possible. When I was trying to understand Jack the least likely of meanings were frequently what he meant. Most turning out to be the oldest meaning. Now why hadn’t I thought of that before…"

Gee, Daniel, you can’t think of everything, this is exactly why SG-1 exists, four heads are better than one, we’re like a think-tank.

"Probably because you were too busy taking care of him after he almost blew himself to kingdom come getting the SGC disconnected from that black hole. I shiver every time I think about that, he was so mad at me for wanting to watch what was happening on P2A-870."

"He was just upset about Hank and his team, they were dying before his eyes. He took their deaths hard and you know what he can be like under conditions like that."

He must have talked to the Colonel about SG-10, about their deaths. A flash of pain crosses his face. The Colonel must have taken them really hard if Daniel reacts like this. When the Colonel is frustrated, he can strike out verbally, his famous sarcasm sharp.

"Hostilely frustrated," I mutter quietly.

I felt so cowed by his words, the expression on his face a physical blow, I’d never been so embarrassed by my curiosity in my life.

"Yes, he can be that way. Let’s see… he pushed though my request for some research materials. I just got a copy of one of the books I wanted. Here it is…" Daniel roots though a few boxes on the floor. He straightens holding up a handful of computer CDs.

"What’s that?"

‘Interesting.’

"Proof of what an frustrated Jack can achieve. He couldn’t get actual book, it’s in a museum, but he had the Air Force commission an archival team from the Smithsonian to visually copy the book."

"They had a Presidential Request."

"Holy Hannah!"

The man is just full of surprises, to use that kind of pull just to acquire research information. Strange. He has no ambition, beyond duty, at all.

"Jack can work those political strings when he’s motivated."

"Just what is this book?"

I gesture to the CDs he is shuffling though, arranging them into some kind of order. What kind of book can be this important I wonder? Daniel holds up the book he used when Jack was under the influence of the Ancients’ download, I recognize it immediately.

"The book, ‘this’ book was based on. Just the oldest known Latin dictionary, an infamous tome. Reliably dated, written before Latin was known to have evolved on Earth."

"Scary."

More Goa’uld influence? Very scary. How did Earth survive this long?

"Oh yes, it’s a literary ‘Shroud of Turin,’ totally unbelievable and completely authentic. A dichotomy, one I only know about though sheer chance, hearing of it from an out-of-favor Professor on my second dig in college. Too bad he has since died, he would have been a big help."

Daniel begins loading up the disks in the computer. He loads and unloads a couple of disks, oh-ing and ah-ing.

He’s making me a little impatient; I start bouncing a foot.

"This is really exciting, there are meanings listed that don’t appear in this," holding up the other reference, "for example the word for departure ‘decessus’ also means death derived from another Latin word meaning ‘to go’ as in depart or die. No wonder, it is the common root for 'departure' but originally it meant departure as in ‘dying’."

"How does that change your translation."

‘Finally!, here we go...’

"It changes everything. ‘Fields of remembrance,’ probably means fields of dead or graves. Sam, that whole planet is a cemetery, the ‘lawnboards’ are headstones in the biggest graveyard ever found."

His widening eyes and raising volume shows his excitement at making this breakthrough.

"So, the whole planet is just one cemetery, essentially a big garden, planet sized. Everything there would be geared to gardening, keeping the lawns tidy and green. God! Daniel, the ‘butterflies,’ they're pest control. They're there to combat anything that doesn’t belong, the Colonel didn’t belong!"

What are the odds that the Colonel would be in just the right place to encounter them and be in just the right frame of mind to allow them to touch him? Astronomical.

"It makes you wonder just how alien the Ancients are. I had assumed that they were humanlike."

"Me too, even the Asgard make that assumption. Looking human doesn’t make one human. We’ve already met non-human humans, the Nox. They look very human, but their powers are not at all human. The Ancients could be the same way. Humans or the Asgard might even be a hybrid offshoot of them. The Colonel’s interaction with the Ancients’ device provides some proof of that. So does the ability of the Asgard to help him."

"Well, finding out the planet is a cemetery really doesn’t help you does it?" Daniel looks defeated by his inability to provide something earth shattering.

"Not really, but it changes my perspective some. Is there anything else in those inscriptions? Anything could help; I’m looking for insight into how they think, how they reason. Anything at all?"

I tap my finger against the remaining CDs on his desk, hoping for just a crumb of information.

"There are some panels that appear to be credos or societal philosophies. I have some of it here…"

Popping up a window on his computer reveals photographic stills of the panels and all overwritten with the English words of the translations he has done. The sheer volume of translations he does on a day to day basis always impresses me, he’s always looking for assistants, yet still does the bulk of the work.

"See, they honor the elements, each should be present to achieve any desired result. It is the basis of their science in a convoluted way, at least to us. Philosophy and hard science is seen as one and the same, inseparable. Much as the Nox sees things, nature and science are interlocked, it can’t be one or the other, but a mix of each. I’m not talking about the periodic table, but earth, fire, water and air. Which, when combined properly produce the periodic table as we know it."

"An atom is composed of air or space, fire or energy, water or movement and earth or matter."

The concept is simple, but the application isn’t I’ve been trained to think differently, well, I’m just have to retrain myself.

"So it makes sense to you?" Daniel seems just a tad surprised.

"Yes, if looked at in very broad terms. How can I apply it to the nanites?"

"What do you know already?"

"I have the nanites in an living organism which can be slowed by salt and a type of acid."

The flash of comprehension across his face is shocking fast as is his reply.

"Water, earth and energy, you need a metal."

"What? How did you come up with that?"

I know that he can see the confusion on my face. I’m as smart as he is but sometimes I think he has the answers in advance.

"Water is the organism, salt is earth and acid is energy, reactive. I’m just using your ‘broad terms.’ "

Daniel shrugs guiltily, like he had stolen the idea instead of applying it.

"Oh, okay I can see your reasoning. So we need metal, but what kind of metal?"

I study his face hoping for another revelation; he’s so good at them.

"Since you have acid, salt and water, why not one of the ancient metals?"

He’s so cute when looking hopeful.

"You lost me, ancient metals?"

Our minds work so differently and our knowledge is so dissimilar. Many times, I can’t follow his reasoning.

"Metals known before man learned to forge, anneal and alloy. Such as iron, copper, gold and silver, all metals that can be used direct from where they’re mined or found."

"That’s four, three more than we need. I suppose iron is out because of iron in the blood. Gold is out because it is stable, thereby inert…"

I am ticking them off on my fingers, but I still have two.

"Might as well toss out silver too, it’s always been considered more air than metal."

I look at him strangely wondering about that statement and he doesn’t seem to think I require an explanation. He assumes that I know more than I do about his area of knowledge, I really need to have a talk with him about that. With silver eliminated…

"Leaving copper. Copper…"

"I don’t know how copper could be helpful?" Daniel muses, interrupting my thoughts.

I start arranging what I know into what I can do and what I can’t do.

"Well, I know how to inhibit and stop the nanites…" Daniel interrupts my thoughts, again.

"You also know how to turn them on."

"I do?"

Now that statement really interrupts my thoughts.

"Yes, by introducing them to a living organism."

I am so glad he interrupts, because I didn’t see that at all. And…

"That leaves how to remove them. Holy Hannah! I know how to cure the Colonel."

I’m totally stunned. I have the answer. Just being around Daniel I gain a dozen IQ points.

Today I needed them.

"How?"

Poor Daniel, he’s brilliant, but he has his blind spots just like I do.

I try to explain.

"I bet that the nanites would prefer to join to copper more than anything else. It would be simple to test but how do I apply it?"

I know this is the answer, its application can’t be that difficult and all I need is someone with the right knowledge. Just as I came to Daniel for insight in the way the Ancients thought, now I need someone to help me apply my new knowledge.

Of course, Daniel interrupts with the answer to my problem, again.

"Janet could give you some ideas, after all that’s more her area isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I’ll go see her, thanks Daniel."

***

"Copper?"

"Yes."

"Well, it does bind well with large organic proteins. Non-toxic to higher forms of life, non-corrosive in high moisture environments, which means it will not migrate away from where we put it. Protein binding is the easiest way to form copper oxidizes, true oxidation requires heat and other gases, not something a lifeform can survive. Did it work in your experiment?"

Placing her elbows on her desk, she leans toward me eagerly after rattling off that bewildering array of information that is way over my head.

She’s doesn’t admit to being a chemist but she knows way more than I do about it.

"Beyond my wildest expectation." I grin at her, scooting back against the back of the visitor chair shoehorned in what little space she has between the wall and her office door.

I’m relieved, we have an answer.

The Colonel is going to be okay.

"We could try running his blood though a modified dialysis machine. Yes, haemoperfusion, it’s used to place blood in direct contact with a 'chelating' agent. Used mainly for chemical and alcohol poisoning. One of the new machines is capable of it. If we replace the block of chelate with copper wires or plates for the blood to run across that should work, less chance of bruising the blood cells. I am assuming that there has to be actual contact for binding to occur. How fast does it take to happen?"

Picking up a pen she begins to scribble on a pad of paper.

‘Is she making a list?’

"At contact, that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen, especially since copper’s crystalline structure is not the best for any kind of binding, the nanites must be programmed to sense the structure and aid the bonding."

Bringing up a knee I cross my legs and begin to bounce my free foot.

"Will this remove them all?"

Now Janet looks right at me, her list-making forgotten.

She’s asked the $10,000-dollar question, the wrong answer condemns the Colonel and she knows it.

"It should, it will take time because they can replicate themselves, we’ll get the active, unbounded ones. Those are the ones that seem to have the ability to replicate. Once bonded to their preferred site, they lose that ability. At least I think so. As for the bonded ones…"

‘No!’ Know so; have to know so, for the Colonel! I bounce my foot harder.

"From the blood work done on the Colonel, there are a lot of unexplained debris in his blood serum, his liver and kidneys are having no problem ridding his body of it. Could the debris be the remains of those that bonded? So far your reasoning of the Ancients’ logic is to make the nanites higher lifeform friendly."

She asking for confirmation and something else, what?

"Yes, that’s true. Your theory fits in with what seems to be happening. Since the nanites are a form of 'pest control' , the Ancients’ wanted to avoid ‘pesticide poisoning’ of the population. Chemical key binding is not finite, otherwise some forms of medications would only need to be administered once in the life of a person, but they need daily doses. The binding breaks down; new unbound sites are created which need to be filled with medication again. The same applies here, the debris are too great for just the binding process, and they must break away once the site becomes inactive. Have you been able to narrow down just where they are binding?"

I can see from Janet’s face that I provided the ‘what’ she implied earlier, I’m not quite sure what the ‘what’ was though. My foot slows down as I wait for her answer.

"Not really, but what, I and the lab techs, have eliminated leaves too many bad places for the binding to be occurring."

Janet does not look happy, a little fission of fear flies up my spine. I ask the dreaded question.

"Such as?" My foot is frozen, how bad can her answer be?

"Most of the sites involve neural pathways and brain function."

"That is bad. But, once we start reducing the active nanite population the effects that they have on the Colonel should manifest themselves gradually."

"Only god and Ancients have any idea what those effects will be."

***

I’ve been asked to do many things since being assigned to the SGC, mainly the impossible. I discovered that impossible is easier than I’d ever thought. When lives depend on being able to do it, it easier than finding that you can’t do it and someone dies. Living with a death that I could have prevented is something that I really don’t like to think about.

Luckily being a sergeant removes me somewhat from being directly responsible, not totally, but it helps.

I admire the officers assigned here, General Hammond, Colonel Makepeace, Captain Carter and Colonel O’Neill.

O’Neill in particular, he tries to hide his concern for all of us here, but if you watch carefully, you can see it.

Mostly I see it when there is an unscheduled incoming traveler, as the Gate connects, everyone is watching the event horizon form, but if you watch the Colonel, you can see his face. On it is that kind of fear you see on a father that can’t immediately set his eyes on his child in a crowd, that quick soul searing terror that exists until the child’s safety is determined.

Right now Captain Carter and Doctor Frasier have literally placed Colonel O’Neill’s life in my hands. Thank god, they don’t ask the impossible of me, but something easy to achieve. I would do the impossible it they asked. I know that he would do it for me.

…What do you think." Captain Carter has raised her voice; I haven’t been paying attention.

"I’m sorry, I was thinking. Could you repeat that." I feel the slight burn on my face; she smiles understandingly, one of the reasons that I respect her. She doesn’t flout that incredible intellect, she’s down to earth, and I can talk to her. She’s military all the way, but she understands that a human stands in every uniform and acts accordingly. She’s a good officer and Colonel O’Neill is honing her into a great officer.

"I was asking if the density of copper wire per square inch would be a problem with uniformity of aperture."

"We don’t want to bruise the blood cells, forcing them though something too restrictive or using too great a pressure to slam them into the wires," interjects Doctor Frasier.

She’s another person on my list of respected officers, she’s fixed me up a few times, she has a great capacity for compassion and a real feel for healing.

Not just a 'mechanic'.

"That shouldn’t be a problem, the base has a computer-controlled laser drill platform. We do a lot of specialty one-off manufacturing of equipment for the base. With that tool, we can be extremely precise with the hole spacing. Plugging in the wires will probably be the most difficult, but if I cool them prior to insertion pressure bend can be minimized, giving a smoother flow."

"Too bad we don’t have enough time to do special wire, fluid flow dynamics could be improved greatly by modifying the cross sectional shape of the wire to provide better though-flow," muses Captain Carter.

"I could do that further down the line, at least tool up some jigs to do that for future need. If I keep it all at the computer design level and make sure that the raw material is stocked it would be available for immediate manufacture."

Being prepared is important at the SGC; it’s one of Colonel O’Neill’s tenants.

"Hmm, let me see your designs and I’ll see if I can get it approved, I can already think of a few applications in projects I’m currently working on. Who knows whom else it can help? I just hope we never need it for this kind of thing ever again."

Captain Carter’s face takes on a pained look; she’s probably picturing Colonel O’Neill as he is now. Having seen him myself, I was shocked at the difference. He is usually a dynamo of motion, but he was like a wax duplicate of himself in the Infirmary. I could feel my heart skip a beat or two at the sight. I shake the image from my mind to reply.

"Yes Ma’am, I fully agree." Turning to Doctor Frasier I ask, "Do you have any idea how many of these special screens I should make?"

"I’m sorry Sergeant I have no idea. Sam, do you?"

Even Doctor Frasier’s 'all business' demeanor doesn’t cover her worry. Surely, the Colonel will recover?

"No, we’ll just have to try them and see how long they will last. I would think that at first not long, lasting longer as the population of nanites goes down in the Colonel’s body."

She shifts her stance nervously, flashes of emotion flitting across her face. Many thoughts must be burning thought her mind. From some of the emotions I can catch, not all of those thoughts are about the screen packs.

"Then I’m keep making them until you say otherwise, Captain." I know that I’ll make more even after they ask me to stop, just in case.

Better safe than sorry I always say.

"Thank you Sergeant Siler."

***

"Sam."

"Oh, Janet. What’s up."

I stand over the modified dialysis unit peering at the flow counters; the machine had been attached to Colonel O’Neill over an hour ago.

Connecting him to the machine entailed a minor operation; I needed to install a Venous Catheter, which I inserted into his chest.

While Sgt. Siler modified the dialysis machine I carefully fed the Colonel small doses of Heparin. It’s a very necessary drug when using a dialysis machine, thinning the blood to prevent it clotting in the machine. No adverse effects so far thank God. I had to risk trying it, if his system refused to tolerate it our devised treatment would not work. This is the only drug I’ll risk until his system is clean, we don’t know enough about what's going on.

"How do we know if it’s working?"

Her face answers my question, it hadn’t really occurred to her yet. She has been working long hours with little sleep. Typical for her, once her interest is peaked she'll worry at a problem until her body rebels. I don’t like it, but that’s Sam in a nutshell. I’m finding that when the Colonel is involved in a problem she is far worse, pushing past where she would naturally let go. She’s at least been sitting since before the machine was switched on, by the Colonel’s bedside, quiet and withdrawn.

It’s not rest, but it’s better than dashing around looking for solutions.

"I… I hadn’t thought of that exactly. We should pull the current filter pack and replace it. I’ll do some tests on it, there should be a simple way to determine how encrusted it is and whether it’s still useful."

She tells me this thoughtfully, more to herself than to me, I can see that her attention is more on the Colonel than on the filter pack.

"Okay, I’ll shut off the flow to change out the filter."

I’m not sure that she even heard me, I’ll have to stick with her to keep her focused. She needs to get some rest.

Getting her out of here will be the first step towards that goal. Turning away from her I call my nurse; it takes two to do this.

I return to the Colonel’s room to wait. It will be a few minutes before my nurse arrives; she was in the middle of treating a minor injury. So, I watch Sam as I have been during all the time we’ve both been here. I watch her and she watches the Colonel. I know that she has feelings for him and I have discovered, during the Colonel’s unguarded moments here in my domain, that he has feelings for her.

Not that either would admit to or even show them, they’re both too professional and too in love with their job to endanger it by letting their emotions for each other dictate to them.

It’s too bad; Jack glows around her, if you know how to look for it. She brings him to life, like Daniel does only much, much more. Unfortunately, he could be just another Jonas to Sam, someone who needs someone to straighten them out, to save them. Jack needs someone, to straighten him out and save him, but not in the way Jonas needed that. Jonas damaged Sam, maybe beyond repair, and that’s why I am, in a way, glad that they are both avoiding getting emotionally involved with one another.

Sam could so easily destroy Jack, he’s still emotionally fragile in regards to relationships, probably always will be. He’s damaged too, far more damaged than Sam, but with the right person, he could be reborn. I have always wondered just what he was like before Charlie’s death or even before he turned away from Frank Cromwell.

I’ve seen her abortive movements to touch him, but she’s only looking, not touching. Could my friend have so little control that once she touches him she would be incapable of letting him go, losing herself and her hard won career so easily. I hope not. Knowing Jack for only this short time, I realize that if that happened it would not sit well with him, he so easily slips into guilt. His fault. His fault for being unable to move away, to prevent her touching him even in the condition he is currently in. His fault. That would be all he would see.

Fifteen minutes later I hand the biohazard bagged filter to Sam and follow her to her lab; I want to be there during the tests.

***

I couldn’t think sitting there next to Jack… ah, the Colonel. Only his face existed, I so wanted to touch him. Do I have a right to that? I’m his friend, touching should be okay and if I touch him could I pull away again? Yes, I would have to, if only for him. I need to keep focused on the problem on hand; I can’t sink into a mire of imagined pledges of envisioned unvoiced love. I’d already done that with Jonas, giving and giving to a man who had no idea how to return my outpouring of devotion. Misplaced devotion it was, I realize now that I had no real love for him, I was in love with the idea of love. I convinced myself that I loved him and he loved me. My greatest wrong was trying to change him to match the vision I had of him and I was so wrong.

I must never repeat that.

Ever.

The Colonel. What do I feel about him? When I read the report he wrote on the Abydos mission I was thrilled, impressed and titillated. How could someone step into the unknown like that? He had touched and utilized the greatest piece of technology yet known to man.

Is that what I felt, a kind of envy?

When I finally did meet him, I assumed that he was like the other men in the military. I spoke out at him, unfairly. His reaction was spit and fire, but not at my being a woman, but as being a scientist. I treated him as I had expected him to treat me. The fact that he never retaliated in any way for that whole episode illustrated just who he was. I belittled myself in my assumption more than I did him. Respect for him took root that day and has grown steadily since. Sure I had to prove that I had the skills and the knowledge, but he didn’t push me for more and in return he has treated me respectfully and trusted my judgement. He treated me as his 2IC.

Is that what I feel, respect for my superior officer?

I have found out some of the awful things the Colonel has lived though. My heart aches at what I know and what I have seen. Does that provoke my need to touch me, a maternal instinct? A need to comfort the suffering.

It that all it is, compassion for his pain?

Or am I so lonely that I gravitate towards the closest male, available or not. What a completely demeaning thought, to him, to me, I really have no idea. His presence confuses me emotionally. I find him funny and endearing. I know when he asks me to explain the science behind something that it’s all an act when he can’t understand what I’m trying to explain. It’s a game to him. He’s trying to amuse me. I find that flattering.

Do I have these feelings for him because he pays deliberate attention to me?

This whole line of thought is a moot point; I can’t do anything about approaching him because it’s not approved of due to our command relationship. I haven’t the faintest idea what his thoughts and feelings for me might be. I need to push this to the back of my mind and forget it, especially if I’m going to get him out of this little fix he finds himself in.

I resolve my little internal dilemma just in time; I open the door to my lab and allow Janet to enter.

Placing the bagged filter on my work surface, I sit down to think some more, not about the Colonel, but about the nanites and how they might affect the copper they are bonding to. Janet slides onto a chair on the opposite side of my lab table with a similar but more worried expression on her face. She probably thinks I need some sleep, especially after watching me 'zone out' next to the Colonel’s bedside. She’d be right. I do need sleep, but I can’t while the Colonel needs help and I intend to solve this for him first.

I stand up and start assembling equipment. Grabbing a plastic tray I dump the screen pack into it and rinse any blood from it using distilled water, I next carefully cut a wire lose using a dremel tool. I drop the wire onto a slide. Pushing the clutter from around my microscope I place the wire unto it and begin peering at it. I know I have a few unattached wires, in the samples Siler had provided. I place a piece next to the used one to compare.

There is a visible difference, but not enough to help.

I need a fast, simple test.

Will the nanites cover all the copper? If they do, I can use a test for the presence of copper to detect its presence. I can create a sliding scale that can be established for the amount present which will conversely show the amount of nanites present. Yes, that could work! I don’t want to do a chemical test, but a spectral test will not harm the sample and will give very precise readings. Grabbing a test vial I tweezer the used wire into it and step over to the spectrometer, place the sample into it and program it to read for copper density.

I have the answer in mere minutes, less than one-percent copper present and 99-percent of contaminant.

"Janet, I have an answer for you now."

"That was fast."

"Well, no distractions here. Change that next filter out after 30 minutes of usage and I’ll test it too. This screen pack is nearly 100 percent encrusted with nanites. Only I don’t know just when it reached that point. The second one will give me a better idea."

"I’ll do that and what will you be doing?"

"I’m going to put my feet up and rest until that time. I’ll need to test a few more screens to get a grip on their longevity; the rest can be projected from the data gathered at that point. Then I think I’ll sleep for awhile, I’m wiped."

"Sounds good to me."

***

All of SG-1 has closed ranks around Colonel O’Neill; they and Dr. Frasier have done the impossible, devised a plan to cure him. Sgt. Siler engineered the filter packs that will replace the normal packs in one of the dialysis units here on base. To think that I had balked when Dr. Frasier, backed by O’Neill insisted that one or even two units were not enough. That men should not perish because of this very top-secret work they do. I am ashamed at what I had thought at the time, O’Neill explained his reasons. His impassioned plea for top-notch medical care ignited the same zeal in me.

I had, at the time, too long ridden a desk.

Colonel O’Neill has in the last two plus years chipped the moss off of this old 'deskrock', bringing back the officer that I was and though his example pushing me to exceed my own expectations. He leads by example, the truest form of leadership known. He will never order anyone to do what he cannot. I’m not talking about the ability to program a computer or pilot a plane, but the ability to step into a situation and conquer it, to take the bullet if need be. He leads from the front, at the brunt of the action. There to shield his people if need be to allow them to accomplish the task he needs them to do. As I once had done in those long ago jungles of Viet Nam.

He has taught SG-1 well, he has taught everyone at the SGC well. They are a testament to his ability to lead. No greater honor can be had.

I pat his arm fondly. Daniel Jackson is curled up on a blanket on the floor sleeping, where I am sure that Teal’c insisted he be if he was to remain. Teal’c values those whom O’Neill values. He will guard them in his leader’s absence. This is why I come late in the night, to have these deep thoughts without interruption, to study his face unseen by others, to allow my thoughts a silent voice, minus an audience.

The man is a handful, but well worth it. I wish for more like him, but there is only the one. If there were more I don’t believe I would survive it. Things happen around him, he’s a cosmic locus. Stand near him and watch the universe revolve around him, to survive you need to stand very close or be sucked out into the whirling arms of happenstance spinning off from him. Unless, of course, he has tied that special rope to you, that rope called friendship, then he will dive down it to you and haul you back to safety, totally heedless of any risk to himself.

I didn’t believe in fate until I met him.

I am relieved that I made the correct decision to send SG-2 and Teal’c back to P3R-336. No one was hurt, everything was retrieved and parts of the answer to O’Neill’s illness were found in Captain Carter’s samples and the additional video of the inscriptions.

Neither alone might have been enough for those two geniuses to arrive at this solution.

Standing I assess my officer, just as I had several weeks ago when he awoke after forcing the Stargate to disengage from a black hole bent on sucking the Earth through the Stargate. At great personal risk, he exploded a bomb saving the planet, yet again.

I wish though he could avoid the Infirmary time. It wears on me as well as him.

I cross the room and step into the main Infirmary.

"Teal’c, thank you for the privacy. You will keep me posted?" I grasp his upper arm and squeeze gently, trying to express my profound gratitude to this loyal man and friend. I am relieved that he is here for O’Neill. I can leave without feeling a truly crippling guilt knowing he is present.

"You are most welcome GeneralHammond. You will be informed on his progress, have no fear."

Teal’c inclines his head with a raises one eyebrow, sealing his statement with his usual dignity and grace. His loyalty is without question and I am assured that he will keep me appraised. O’Neill is very lucky in his choice of friends.

"Thank you, take care of him."

"With my life."

***

I am conscious of a hand on my back.

I’m not sure where I am, putting out a hand I feel a blanket then a cool floor.

Jack!

I jerk upright, slowed by that same hand. Squinting blearily before me is lurking a lump, which pushes my glasses into my hands. Donning them I realize the dark lump is Teal’c, he assists me to my feet and gently pulls me towards the bed.

He points at a moving body upon the bed.

A moving body!

My smile nearly splits my face in two, Jack’s body is moving. I bend down to study his face, it’s streaked with tears, is he in pain? Is he having a nightmare? That thought causes me to take a very quick step back, nearly treading on a bewildered Teal’c.

He doesn’t ask why and I know that he’ll reason it out faster than I can explain. He and I have seen what can happen when Jack is not fully aware.

Turning to Teal’c I say, "You should get Janet," in a whisper, afraid of disturbing Jack. He nods and leaves the room. Turning back to the bed, I try to calm Jack’s increasing motions.

"Jack, Jack you’re safe. You’re home. Please open your eyes." I softly but firmly speak to him, but still keep my distance. He moves restlessly, there is no movement beneath his eyelids, but tears still leak out. Is he dreaming, a lack of REM says no. Pain? Where’s Janet!

Janet quietly arrives, her soft-soled shoes preserving the room’s hush at her quick appearance. Only the rustle of disturbed bedding can be heard. She immediately goes to Jack, touching him. I try to warn her.

"Janet, nightmares?" She quickly scans his face, finding the same lack of eye movement.

"I don’t think so, this is not his usual behavior." I can see the frown on her face; she’s worried; I’m suddenly cold.

She feels his forehead before using the… whatever it is, in his ear that tells her his temperature. Peeling back an eyelid, she attempts to gauge his pupil reaction with her penlight.

‘Darn, Jack really hates that.’

Stepping back to view all of him she watches his movements, abruptly stepping back she leans down to capture a moving arm. Holding it, she tries to smooth it to stillness, vainly.

‘Is she gauging the strength behind his movements?’

Next, she carefully leans over his chest to inspect the connection for the quietly humming dialysis machine. Satisfied she picks up a cloth, moistens it and gently wipes the tear trails from his face.

Salt burns.

Having erased the false evidence of an emotion Jack denies he has she retreats to the end of the bed and begins jotting things into his chart.

"Uh, Janet…" I barely breathe out. I slid a few steps towards her, glancing from Jack to her and back again.

"Daniel, no need to whisper. He’s not awake, not yet."

"But the tears…" ‘Pain?’

"I expected this, some bodily functions have been off line since his initial collapse on P3R-336. His body is trying to adjust. With the added handicap of the chemicals floating in his body and just how they may affect his awakening is anyone’s guess. I’m expecting at least some atypical behavior."

She gives me a small encouraging smile during her brief inattention to Jack’s chart.

"Affect?" ‘This is bad isn’t it?’

"Yes, all the tests we’ve been able to perform indicate that the sites the nanites attached to are neural connections, most for higher brain function."

I can’t see her face, it’s still stuck in the chart, it’s frustrating not be able to see her face, her eyes. To be able to judge just how worried I really should be.

"Higher brain function… that’s bad isn’t it?" ‘Brain damage.’

"It’s not good, but I will have a nurse with him 24/7 and I’ll be staying on base until he is cognizant." She is all business, emotionless.

"That’s good." My voice is very faint; I feel my hope fading. ‘Oh, this is really bad.’

"I need to step out and order up some equipment, I’ll be right back." She states, glancing at me as she replaces the chart at the foot of the bed and turns to step out. Her face was blank.

I’m left to my own mind's devices, to diagnose Jack in the worse of terms. My eyes are pulled in his direction. He’s not dreaming, not awake. I latch onto his arm as if I’m a limpet; I’m not going to let go until he wakes up. I stare at his face; Janet’s right, he not awake, and he’s still not there. With his body moving again, it can’t be long now, I hope he’ll be able to get back from wherever he is.

‘Don’t be gone, Jack.’

My eyes prickle hotly betraying my fears.

Janet returns with a nurse who has a set of restraints in her hands. I quickly stand, blocking their access to Jack.

"Janet…" My eyes widen in shock and horror must surely show on my face, how do I fight one friend to defend another.

Her face hardens in resolve, which hardens my own.

"Daniel…" Her shoulders stiffen as she takes a half step towards me.

"No way in hell." I slightly widen my stance, forcing my fury to the surface in my words, and feel a guilty satisfaction as Janet’s eyes widen in surprise.

"You would rather he injure himself?"

I watch her surprise melt as mine grows, but she expresses her own fury toward me. Astounded by her reflection of my own emotion, her words suddenly click. Does Jack’s distaste of restraints, his dignity are they worth the possibility of injury if that can be prevented?

"Well... no, but can’t you sedate him." I practically whine. I’m unsure of the correctness of my stand now.

"You would rather I injure him?"

‘What… what does she mean. Maybe I could…’

"I could…"

‘…Restrain him myself if needed.’

"You would rather he injure you."

‘Not strong enough? How about…’

"Teal’c…"

‘…He could…’

"You would…"

Her impatience is plainly evident on her face and in the way she is standing, fairly dripping from her words.

"No damn it, I wouldn’t." My patience breaks with those words, but I have to ask.

"Why no sedatives?"

My anger shows in my exaggerated gestures. Both of us are nearly shouting at each other. I loom over her; her head tilted back to look me full in the eyes.

"You know how little we know of the chemicals involved with the nanites, I will not risk him for anyone’s sensitivities, even his own."

Janet words start out loud and lower in volume as she speaks, with a nearly visible effort she imbues her words with her determination to protect Jack at all costs.

It is that determination to protect our friend that forces me to step out of their way. My bravado burned from my frame by her logic I slink away, feeling beaten, foolish.

I watch the nurse attach the straps expertly to the frame of the bed.

I’m feeling more than a bit like a coward.

Do I feel that way because I backed down to Janet or Jack?

Janet is only aware of Jack as she attaches the hated restraints around his ankles and wrists, careful to prevent chaffing, loose enough on the straps to allow some movement, but tight enough to prevent abrupt damaging movements. She loosely belts down his hips and chest, she isn’t immobilizing him, just restricting or slowing his actions. The care with which she does this reforms my cowardice into concern. This is necessary. It’s to keep him safe.

I can live with that, even in the face of Jack’s fury of betrayal.

The nurse is suddenly there dragging a chair to a corner near the door. So intent was I on Janet that I don’t know when or for how long she was gone, but it is clear that she is here now for the duration, making herself comfortable.

She will be here for the long haul, as will I.

***

Teal’c, as promised, has come to inform me that Colonel O’Neill is showing positive signs of improvement, he is not happy about the restraints being used, nor am I. Colonel O’Neill has a distinct hatred for them. When Dr Jackson was confined for schizophrenia O’Neill made his thoughts on restraints and psychobabble plain to all. If Dr Frasier thinks they are necessary, I will go with her judgement and Teal’c grudgingly agrees.

I have read all the reports pertinent to Colonel O’Neill’s condition. At first, no progress was evident, but now ground is being gained. I have soothed the way of anyone working on this problem as much as possible.

I have just returned from visiting O’Neill myself; he has been on the dialysis machine for 24 hours. His restless movements, though alarming, I am told are a good sign. Dr Frasier and Captain Carter are unable to predict when O’Neill will awaken or what his condition will be when he does.

Dr. Jackson and Teal’c still speak of being unable to ‘sense’ his presence, that only his body is there in the Infirmary. I don’t know what to make of that, but I have learned to heed both men. Nothing seems strange to me any longer after the last two years.

Captain Carter seems to be staying away from the Colonel, but I do know that she is working on trying to decipher the technology behind the mount of the ‘lawnboard.’ I hope that scientific curiosity is the reason behind her absence.

On the other hand, she may just be trying to stave off the inevitable rumors about her and O’Neill.

I know that there is something there, between them, but neither will allow anything to come of it.

I hope the Colonel recovers soon. Running the SGC alone is difficult. He does an excellent job in the limited time he has to do all of his work here as my 2IC. I don’t know where he learned to do it so well, nowhere in his records is any kind of posting to explain it. His education records show he is qualified, but education does not necessarily equate to ability. Experience is important. He could have particular experience in one of those blacked-out sections of his record that even I don’t have clearance for.

***

I have just returned from visiting CaptainCarter in her lab, she finds it difficult to be near O’Neill in his current state, seeing him apparently in pain, would be difficult to endure for any friend. She is not weak in her inability to watch over him, it raises the old pain she had endured during her Mother’s long painful illness. I have no wish for her to be reminded of that and I am sure that O’Neill would not either.

So I take the time to keep her informed as to his condition as I do also GeneralHammond.

As to DanielJackson I forcibly removed him from O’Neill’s room, took him to the Commissary and watched him while he ate. He was not in the least happy about my insistence. I then told him not to reappear for at least ten hours and that if anything happened I would personally come for him immediately.

GeneralHammond visited after midnight for a short time, I stood outside the door, as is my custom when he comes.

He did not appear as worried as before for which I am glad.

Having taken care of everyone, I will indulge myself, sitting upon the floor keeping my brother’s face in view I meditate, not a full kelno’reem, but a light meditation. My hope is to detect my brother’s soul, to give him a beacon to find his way home. That may sound ‘silly,’ a term O’Neill is fond of, but even with my newly acquired knowledge I feel that this might help.

There is no basis for this belief, but even if I cannot reach my brother, it does help me pass the remainder of the night.

At the edge of my awareness, I can feel the ‘Mountain’ awaken to the new day. Sounds increase my awareness of more life, even the increase in the light at the bottom of the room’s door heralds the coming day and there is something else…

O’Neill!

My eyes snap open involuntarily. Quickly I search the room for the source of my alarm. I find nothing. What did I feel?

Standing I approach my brother. I lay a gentle hand upon his arm. Closing my eyes I feel, I feel… he is there! My brother has returned. Spinning on my heel, I quickly exit the room. I ask the first nurse I see to sit with O’Neill. My swift steps carry me to DanielJackson’s room.

I promised that if there was a change that I would fetch him.

This is a change, a very good change.

***

‘What!’

Banging, someone’s banging on my door, I pull the pillow over my head.

"Go away!" I shout, annoyed that anyone dare make this much noise this early. I roll onto my stomach and try to ignore it.

"DanielJackson!"

‘Teal’c?’ What’s Teal’c here for… ‘Jack!’

"Shit!" I shout and spring from the bed nearly tripping headlong in the dark. I fumble for the light switch and the door lock at the same time. Finally, I jerk it open as the light snaps on.

"It’s Jack!" I ask Teal’c who pushes the door open further stepping close to me.

"I felt him."

Those three words rock my world.

Teal’c felt Jack. He made it back. The body in that room is not just a body anymore, but Jack. I feel my jaw working, but words escape me.

"You must come, now." Teal’c reaches out to drag me from the room.

"Wait, I need some clothes."

"Quickly then, we may have no time. We need to be there to greet him."

Teal’c is never impatient, but now he displays all the classic signs of it. I quickly struggle into pants and shirt, I pick up my boots and snag a set of socks and barefoot push him back into the hall and close the door behind me. We must make a sight hurrying though the halls and bursting in the Infirmary to surprise the nurse sitting with Jack.

I ignore her. Dropping my boots to the floor I head for Jack, Teal’c takes the time to politely thank her for watching Jack and asks that she find Dr Frasier and bring her here.

Quickly.

Pulling the bedside chair up to the edge of his bed I sit and lean across the bed toward him. My fingers gently touch his face, feeling the stubble that had grown since the nurses shaved him yesterday while I watched, fearful of them cutting him. A baseless fear, yet I felt it. Now I feel something else, Jack. Not as strong as I could hope for, but plainly there. I feel Teal’c step up to stand beside me, he reaches out to run the back of his index finger down Jack’s near cheek as I still cup the far one.

We would make a strange sight frozen like this.

"I must inform GeneralHammond. I will return."

"I know you will. Hurry."

"Indeed."

Teal’c has been taking care of SG-1 for Jack, his insistence on my eating and sleeping, being delivered here, now to Jack’s side all of his perceived responsibility to Jack. He’s even been keeping the General and Sam informed of Jack’s condition. I suspect that he will also stop to talk to Sam before actually returning. She has found it difficult to see Jack’s struggle, too reminiscent of her Mother’s struggle.

I slip my hand from Jack’s face to grip his hand, willing my strength to him thought our physical contact. I watch his face, his eyes now move beneath closed lids, he still moves restlessly, though not as much I think.

"Jack you need to wake up." I softly tell him. I mumble and talk at him for what seems like forever, I get no response from him. I must have only been there for mere minutes before Janet arrives.

"Daniel, what’s the problem here?" She is breathless, disheveled and rushed. Did the nurse root her from her bed, this early that is entirely possible?

"Jack’s back." Her expression is priceless, a type of shocked disbelief, clearly she sees no change in her patient.

"Teal’c and I feel him. Touch him."

I wave her over.

She moves to the other side of the bed and picks up his hand holding it to her chest, as we’ve all seen her do many times. Shrugging her shoulders she asks with her eyes ‘feel what.’

"Close your eyes, reach out and feel. Like meditation."

She does as I ask. She stands there for a number of minutes before she relaxes, going with it finally. Then, a wondrous expression spreads slowly across her face, shining eyes open forcing a tear to drop down her cheek, a gentle smile graces her face as she looks at Jack then to me.

"It’s impossible," she exclaims.

"Yes, it is, but isn’t it wonderful?" I answer smiling broadly.

***

The Colonel has 'returned' according to Teal’c and Daniel, even I felt him.

It is the most miraculous thing I had ever experienced, but he has not awakened. Sam, who arrived nearly on my heels was disappointed that he was not conscious, but Teal’c instructed her in how to feel the Colonel, that more than made up for his lack of consciousness.

The Colonel can be a prima donna sometimes, he’ll make all of SG-1 and I wait on him, all day long.

How word got around the base is beyond me, people started dropping by to check on the Colonel, many I turned away. Colonel O’Neill is a very private person and intensely hates being viewed as weak. Being confined to the Infirmary is definitely weak in his estimation.

So very few are allowed to peek around the doorjamb to see him.

Siler and Ferretti are two.

Of course, the General I would never try to stop. He too is instructed in the technique on how to ‘feel’ the Colonel. His face is not as easy to catch the wonder on, but we who know him well can see it. As to the Colonel, he is totally unaware of being the center of attention. If he were, his outraged bellow would startle NORAD above us.

I am able to busy myself with tending to the Colonel and performing the necessary tests needed to monitor his condition. I change the screen pack in the dialysis machine. Sam grabbing it before I can even bag it properly and disappearing only long enough to run the spectral on it. The results are encouraging; the screens are hardly catching anymore nanites.

Sam and I agree that we still need to run the dialysis until we have 24 hours of totally negative result for contaminants.

The members of SG-1 drift in and out of the Infirmary quietly thoughout the day, taking care of themselves for a change, knowing that soon they will need to care for the Colonel and must to be at their best to do so. I try to rest as much as possible, but anticipation keeps me up.

The day grinds on, our ardor cools. Daniel sits dozing over a book at the head of the Colonel’s bed, Sam is beating on the keys of her laptop trying to get down everything she can about the whole mess, scientifically of course. Teal’c stands in his accustomed spot near the door, able to see everyone and all of the Colonel. I am in and out.

"Hmm."

The silence is shattered, everyone freezes, eyes swivel towards the man in the bed.

"Uh mmm."

Daniel moves first to rest a hand on the Colonel’s arm, I move next stopping at the head of the bed and begin to check my patient. He is still restrained. I lift an eyelid, and flick my light at a sluggish pupil, much better.

"Colonel. Colonel, can you hear me? If you can hear me please squeeze my hand."

I pick up his hand and lightly grip it in mine, no response. My eyes check the heart monitor against the wall; heartbeat is still too slow. I perform some alertness tests with negative results.

"Sorry, folks false alarm. Probably involuntary vocalization. Still a very good sign though. He could wake before the night is over."

I know that I have been up too long to stand vigil though the night and SG-1 should not try it either. I tell them that all but one will have to go. Teal’c wins the first watch, Sam the second and Daniel will have the last before the dawn of the next day.

I see the losers to the door, I nod to Teal’c and leave to eat and rest. I will need to be ready for the next day.

***

Screaming.

It’s deafening.

Who’s screaming?

My back arches away from a burning pain. My ears flinch at the sharp slap of leather against flesh.

I scream.

I scream and scream and scream.

Sweat burns my eyes as the hot sun backlights the blood vessels netted in my tightly closed eyelids. Pulses of red haze color the visible hot yellow fire of the sun as each stroke of searing leather connects with the shredded flesh of my back.

God, will it ever stop?

I sob, attempting to draw the superheated air into my starving lungs but I expel it before I can take a full breath, forced out by the thudding shock of yet another burning stroke of the leather, one which curls around my waist to burn across my lower belly.

More pain as I jerk downward against the metal manacles holding my arms spread out and above my head, my mangled wrists rival the pain from the endless strokes against my back.

Minor.

All this is minor. My anguish burns brighter than any of the pain these bastards can inflict. I can hide in that kind of pain. The death I’m responsible for here I cannot escape that.

Unable to endure it any longer I release my guilty pain with a sob; true tears burn across my sun blistered cheeks causing more ‘minor’ pain.

Through the open floodgate of emotion, my secret guilt flows forth. I cannot stop it. I cannot slow it. I am engulfed in a seething inferno of ‘real’ pain.

My cry is ripped from my very soul as I force open my eyes…

***

Jack has been restless, flinching and uttering inarticulate sounds. He quiets down as morning approaches. It is shocking how fast things change, if I had not had a hand resting on his forearm, I would not have felt his shaking. He is sobbing, crying soundlessly.

Moving closer, I study his face. Tears are leaking from beneath his tightly clenched eyelids; he appears to be gasping for breath, as if panting in pain. He startles me as both hands suddenly jerk sharply against the restraints, his entire body jerks as his eyes snap open.

He screams.

My heart nearly stops at the sound, then to jerkily resume as the scream abruptly breaks off. Jack is left sobbing inconsolably, uncontrollably crying. I’m seeing him react in a way I would swear he is not capable of. So intent am I at his behavior that I don’t heard the running feet of every person that heard Jack’s scream. Two nurses, Janet and four SF’s crowd in the room to stare as my friend writhes on the bed.

All the while Jack’s eyes are wildly darting about the room from face to face, fear radiates off his body, his limbs jerking against the restraints, desperate to escape from something. I try to soothe him, but the arrival of so many people terrifies him into greater struggles.

Thank god Janet keeps her head; she begins to herd out the crowd, forcing them out into the hall.

She shuts the door and switches off the light that someone had turned on. The sudden darkness causes Jack to react as badly as the sudden bright light had. My hands are full trying to hold him down, a move that just incites Jack into a greater frenzy. Janet quickly moves to the bed and begins tightening the restraints; I am suddenly glad that she insisted on them. He is a very strong man and trained to kill without weapons, without thought. She averted a tragedy that Jack would not have been able to live with.

He could have been responsible for someone’s death.

His guilt would have burned him alive.

"Janet…"

"Daniel." She gasps out while using all her strength to tighten the last of the restraints.

"I will never question one of you decisions again, but what the hell is happening?"

My glasses are barely hanging onto my face as the terrified movements beneath me buck me up and down; I’m nearly lying on Jack to keep him pinned to the bed. My voice is raised as I try to be heard over his grunts and sobs.

"I really don’t know Daniel, keep you voice down, calm yourself. He’s picking up on your agitation and increasing his own in response to it."

‘Damn, how can I be so stupid. Jack’s acting like a wild animal.’

"Talk quietly to him, touch him. But… Be… Calm..."

She sinks down onto her knees and starts to gently stroke his arm.

She’s lowering her silhouette, to be less threatening. I mirror her actions, slipping down unto the floor. I quietly mutter to him. I remember that she can’t sedate him, so we have to calm him the old fashioned way. I’m supposed to be good with words, now I have to prove it.

It feels like hours before his struggles slow his sobbing now hiccuping gasps. His wide, too dark eyes flit between Janet and I, as if trying to determine which is the greater threat. My own eyes are nearly at a level with his as I’ve worked myself up to stroking his arm with one hand and my other rests beneath his neck, kneading it gently, slowly.

My mouth is dry from the constant quiet words of comfort and nonsense I speak. I discovered that the tone is more important than the content, at one time I quietly and calmly recited the Egyptian Python of Gods in alphabetical order. It is clear that Jack consists of only emotions right now, those names alone should have caused him agitation. He has no comprehension of his surroundings, people or language.

I do hope this is temporary, just an effect of the nanites’ weakening control. None of us could live with the fact of a living Jack that is not Jack. I for one have no idea how I could live with that.

How does one bury the living?

"He’s asleep."

Janet’s voice nearly causes me to jerk. What a disaster that would be, like waking a cranky baby.

"Janet, what’s wrong with him," I quietly ask her. She screws up her face in thought before answering.

"We know that the nanites were bonding in areas of higher brain function, maybe the concentration is highest there, leaving lower function to clear out first, many emotional responses originate there. Memory is probably being affected too, he acted as if he were experiencing a very intense painful dream or flashback."

Her hands are busily petting Jack’s forearm without thought during her explanation, she watches him with only momentary glances to me.

"Will this happen again?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Her eyes fully on me now, mine narrow as I realize…

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the best one I have, we just have to wait and see. Will you be okay here alone? I need to get the screen pack checked, get Sam involved. What just happened was stressful to him, his blood pressure shot through the roof, if I can start sedating him I will. Only Sam can give me an indication if that’s possible."

"Go, I’m be okay. If you see Teal’c send him in would you."

"Yes, I will."

I don’t even notice Janet return with a nurse to change out the screen filter and leave again. I remain in the dim room absently stroking my now quiet friend’s arm as his scream reverberates in my mind.

***

My head snaps up and around, Sara forgotten. I’m flying to the backdoor; my feet not feeling the ground they used to push me faster towards that sound. Horror blossoms in the pit of my stomach. Only one thing makes that sound.

A gun.

There is only one gun here, in our bedroom, in our nightstand. In the drawer, that I keep locked. Where I keep…

My gun.

Flinging the bedroom door open, not knowing how I got so far so fast, I see nothing from my sudden motionless position just inside the doorway. I smell it, that unmistakable odor that is commonplace on any military base’s shooting range. Sara often comments on it clinging to me on a daily basis, its smell as familiar as hers is to me. Maybe more so. It’s…

Gunpowder. Cordite.

Then I see it, hanging in the air, that slight veil of white residue, the telltale exhalation of a firearm. Lazily it drifts though the room spreading out, dissipating, settling on every surface, marking the area with its sinister presence. I eagerly breathe it in as I had the foul smell before; neither leaves me with the cold dread that they should, as both are all too much of my being for that.

There, on the floor, my gun. It lies just past the foot of our bed; I take a few steps closer. A hand, palm up, fingers relaxed, motionless.

Oh my god. Charlie!

I’m suddenly kneeling over the body of my son. He too lies on the floor, at the foot of our bed. Charlie appears asleep; my hand goes to his chest to shake him awake. I feel a sticky wetness; I slowly bring my hand to my face to see what is smeared across my son’s chest. The fingers spread before my face are red; a thick dripping red liberally coats my palm. Has Charlie been in the garage? Has he been painting his tree house again? No, this isn’t paint. The smell, not gunpowder, not paint. It’s as familiar as my own heartbeat, I’ve spilled more than my own fair share of it, my own and of others. Assignments. Its coppery smell/taste burns though my nasal passages. No, God…

It’s blood.

Charlie’s blood. It covers my son’s small unmoving chest. It spreads across the floor. The knees of my pants are soaked in it. I snatch up his much beloved body and hug him to my chest. I will protect him with my life.

"Charlie, honey. Daddy’s here. Wake up." I stroke his head, love swells in my heart.

If I think everything is okay, it’s okay. Positive thinking, yes, that's right. Charlie’s okay. Daddy’s here, everything’s all right. I rock him a bit and try to bounce him awake. His blood coats my arms, my chest. I leave it behind on his face as I cup his cheek with my hand.

"Charlie?"

Blood is filling the room, I hold Charlie up, his cold cheek rests against mine, but the blood rises, I can’t stand, I’m frozen on my knees. I push Charlie higher to keep his face above the raising tide of blood. My own face is slowly being covered in it; I gasp for a breath only to have the thick sticky red clogs my throat, my mouth.

It clings to my nostrils. I can’t breath in.

Using every atom of air left in my lungs, I scream.

‘CHARLIE!"

***

I was able to give Janet good news about the nanite population, only another 24 more hours to make totally certain. The last screen showed no contaminants at all. They should all be gone. Running the dialysis machine another 24 hours is just our insurance. We both agree that if the Colonel suffers another episode a mild sedative can be risked, just to take the edge off of his panic.

It’s been nearly twelve hours since his first disastrous awakening. Surely the next time he will be more coherent?

I hope so.

His bloodwork shows a marked decrease in the debris created when the nanites expire. Just how many are still bonded to his brain is anyone’s guess. Janet believes that just a few can make a real difference in how his brain functions, that he’ll probably have problems until all of them expire and detach.

I’ve spent the last four hours sitting here trying to determine just how long before the Colonel will be completely free of their influence.

My answers are: much longer than I like to think about…

"CHARLIE!"

‘Holy Hannah!’

"Colonel?!"

I nearly fall across him in my haste to reach him. He’s awake, struggling against the restraints. He hadn’t moved a muscle for all the time I’ve been sitting with him.

Now he’s all motion.

"Charlie! Where’s Charlie?" He’s speaking, actually shouting, but it’s understandable.

"Colonel, calm down."

I place both hands on his arm to gently still it; he jerks it violently away only to be brought up short by the straps.

"What… what’s this." His eyes look down his body as he bucks and jerks at the restraints. "What the fuck is this?!"

"Please Colonel, calm down." I try patting his shoulder, he looks at me, and there is no recognition in his eyes. He begs.

"Where’s Charlie, who are you? Shit, the blood." His sudden switch from begging to fear is alarming. He’s rubbing his hands hard against the sheets, as if scraping something off.

"Sir, everything is okay, you need to calm down."

"Okay! Nothing’s okay. Charlie!" He struggles harder. "What the hell have you done with Charlie? CHARLIE! Please God, where are you!"

The Colonel’s shouts bring Janet armed with a syringe, Teal’c on her heels. Teal’c muscles me aside to hold the Colonel’s arm motionless, as Janet tries to position the needle.

"Hey, what are you doing. Fuck, leave me alone. CHARLIE! Charlie!" He struggles harder as Janet finds the vein she needs. At the sight of the needle, the Colonel’s switches back to begging before shifting into fear on his last word.

"Please no, no drugs. Please I just want Charlie. No! Drugs! CHARLIE!" Plunging in the needle she depresses the plunger and injects the Colonel with a mild sedative.

"OWW, shit, what did you do that for? Who are you people?"

Janet and Teal’c release him and back away. The Colonel’s fear of only a moment ago is now indignation at his treatment.

"DrFrasier. O’Neill does not know us."

"Yes, I hear that, it’s probably temporary." Janet is mopping the sweat from her reddened face.

"Hello, O’Neill right here in the room. You know me but I don’t know you. What have you done with Charlie?"

Yet another mood change, he’s almost joking.

"We have done nothing to Charlie," Teal’c assures the confused man. He reaches out to rest a hand on the Colonel’s shoulder.

"Please, is Charlie okay? Please tell me?" The Colonel whiningly begs.

"Charlie is the same as he was last week, nothing has changed." I gasp at Teal’c’s words, this man cannot lie. It’s not in him.

Teal'c has just told a very creative truth. Even Janet’s face shows a glimmer of shock at his words; she quickly shuts down her emotions. The Colonel is not a stupid man and very astute at reading people, he can spot a liar faster than anyone I know.

I pray the sedative takes hold soon.

"I tried to keep the blood from him. Are you sure he’s all right?" The Colonel’s voice is child like, pleading for reassurance.

"I have told you the truth, do not fear." Teal’c begins to stroke the Colonel’s arm, trying to give him that reassurance physically.

"He’s not okay, that’s why you have me strapped down. I hurt him. God I hurt him. So much blood."

Disbelief and horror echo though his words, causing us to feel the same emotions upon hearing them.

The Colonel’s no longer shouting his struggles are weaker as he dissolves into soft sobs, tears glistening in his eyes. So much guilt and despair showing on his face, more emotion than I’ve ever seen him express. I’m uncomfortable just witnessing it, even knowing that it’s not really him, just the fouled up chemical processes of a compromised brain.

"No, you are a good father, you are incapable of hurting your son." Teal’c admonishes the confused Colonel.

"No, I don’t believe you. CHARLIE! Please. Charlie!"

Tears are running down his face, his sobs are soft utterings of his son’s name. Teal’c is clearing confused as to how he can comfort the Colonel, awkwardly squeezing his shoulder.

We stand around in a kind of shock at the Colonel’s outburst, so much pain. We knew about his son, but no one really understood that the Colonel blamed himself so deeply for what had happened, actually accusing himself of having an active role in harming his son. Bad enough to believe he had been careless, something never proven according to Daniel. Something I would never believe after knowing him for two years, the man is just too meticulous to forget to secure a weapon, even momentarily. That kind of discipline can’t be instilled in just the time since Charlie’s death, it’s a discipline developed over a lifetime, his lifetime in the Air Force.

Always secure your weapon.

I think about how he will react when he realizes how he has exposed his deepest, darkest thoughts to all of us.

Will he be able to look any of us in face without seeing pity or disgust, according to his mood? Will he be able to work with us knowing what we all now know? Will he throw it all away again and retire. He is a strong man, but this seems to be something that he cannot surmount.

He is too intertwined in our lives, SG-1’s lives, the SGC, to allow him to leave because of his feelings of guilt over his son’s death. He nearly blew up a world last time, only Daniel diverted him. Now SG-1 will have to divert him, or die trying.

He is the glue that binds us together, no glue, no SG-1. No SG-1, probably no SGC and with no SGC, no Earth and with no Earth, no reason for life as we know it.

The Goa'uld win and that’s just NOT an option.

Somehow, the Colonel must survive this.

For us all.

***

Janet has kept Jack sedated for the last 48 hours, 24 hours ago he was disconnected from the dialysis machine.

His bloodwork barely showing any of the telltale chemicals that herald the demise of more detaching dead nanites. She is optimistic, but cautious, her reason for the sedation, keeping him calm, preventing damage from his physical struggles or soaring blood pressure, racing heartbeats or shouted out confessions of killing his son or anyone else for that matter.

Sam and I have discussed what had occurred when Jack woke up the second time and her fears of his possible inability to remain here now that his soul has been bared to our view. I agree he will find it difficult to remain.

My hand gently glides over the rough graze encircling Jack’s now free wrist, gone are the restraints, not needed now that he is under the hated drugs. The damage he inflicted in his fight to break free of them is extensive, not dangerous, just very very visible. Wide bands of bruising cross his hips and chest, even his inner upper arms sport bruises from the chest strap. He’s lost skin on both wrists and one ankle; he even broke a toe. Also, there is the intentional wound high on his chest for access of the dialysis machine.

Janet says he pulled quite a few muscles too. He’ll be in physical pain.

That’s good.

Well, not really, but he takes solace in physical pain to help mask out his emotional pain. It’s his little crutch, if having it helps, that’s okay with me. I’m just glad that Janet was able to prevent McKenzie from sticking his nose in this mess. That would be the last thing Jack needs. She was able to convince McKenzie that all of the outbursts were physically based, Sam backed her up and the General put his personal stamp on it. It certainly takes a lot to convince the man of the bald truth, it’s a wonder I ever convinced him that I was under an alien influence when he had me locked up.

No, I should be fair; he did do as I asked.

My eyes wander over my friend. Why can’t the man get a break? He gives everything he has to do the right thing every time. Yet when he relaxes just a little bit he gets hit by the most unfair of circumstances. He really does pay for any little bit of happiness he can grab for himself.

I catch a twitching rise of one leg.

‘Maybe he’s going to finally wake up.’

"Jack… Jack are you here?"

I slip my hand under his, his fingers begin to flex and just like a baby, he instinctively fastens unto my hand. I squeeze gently.

"Jack are you awake yet?"

I smile at the little petulant pursing of one side of his mouth; he's probably seen his son do that on school mornings. I feel sad that he lost such a miracle.

His eyelids begin to flutter softly, more reflections of his loss. I still feel surprise at how vulnerable and childlike my warrior friend can appear when ill or injured, that knowledge is precious to me, but the method by which I came by it I would readily forego. The fact that I know he’ll left his knees a few more times and then bring his right hand to his face to cover his eyes before awakening is just too personal for anyone to know.

There, what did I say, there goes his hand.

"Jack…" I softly begin.

"Uh, uhh…"

"Here, let me get you some water." I already have the special cup and straw ready, I gently pry his hand from his face to curl it around the cup. His eyes are shut, I don’t even know if he’s opened them yet. I do the job of holding the cup, his hand around mine to give him the illusion that he doing the work. I guide the straw to bump against his lips, they part eagerly and he greedily begins sucking, a few strong pulls and I pull it back.

He groans a bit.

"Too fast, Jack. Slower. Okay?" I bump the straw against his lips again.

"Hmm"

I let his lips fasten back onto the straw. He sucks slower. He’s still groggy from the sedative, that’s why I’m getting no words out of him yet and why he so docile. He’s usually pissed as hell waking up in the Infirmary; he sees it as some kind of personal failure to be here. When upset he’s very vocal.

He pushes out with his hand, he’s done. He makes some huffs, blows and coughs to clear his throat.

"You okay there Jack?"

Cough. Cough "Yeah." Cough "Kinda."

Now his eyes open, revealing them in that rare glorious glowing amber, only seen when he’s being most open or caught unawares. I smile at him and he shyly smiles back looking confused.

"Huh, Daniel…Why am I here." Holding up a wrist, he studies it, before looking at me again. "And, how did his happen?" He slowly jerks his head towards the still upright arm.

"Well, it’s a long story."

"How long?"

"Almost a week."

"What… Is…"

I speak quickly to quell his sudden panic.

"Everyone is okay, well… except for you. You don’t remember anything?"

Lowering his arm tiredly to his side, he closes his eyes to think.

"P3R-336… big lawn… big pool… surfboards… I… I…"

"Yes, you…"

"I felt great and I paid for it didn’t I?"

Darn, I had hoped that he wouldn’t think that.

Guilt about what happened to him.

"I wouldn’t say that. You’re alive and in one piece."

"Barely. There were butterflies, really big ones."

His words are brighter, his memories are returning. Anything to distract him from his own accusations.

"We wondered about that, just how you encountered them. They stung you."

"They… stung me. Shit. I let them crawl all over me, I didn’t feel anything."

His voice is disbelieving, he eyes close again, he’s already starting to fade.

"What’s the last thing you remember?"

"Scaring Teal’c."

He slowly raises a hand to scrub at his face, his words weary.

"The first time or the second time."

"The second time?"

His hand slips from his face, revealing dark penetrating eyes demanding answers.

"Then you just remember the first time, being zapped by the lawnboard mount."

"Yeah, that’s right."

Impatience creeps into his rapidly roughening words.

I dominate the conversation, sketching out for him the sequence of events leading to his present awakening. I could see him struggling to focus, but he doggingly hangs in there insisting on knowing everything. So I fudge a little, actually a lot, he would get the whole story later, in person and in reports, knowing everything now isn’t important.

His somewhat upbeat frame of mind erodes during my story, what I was going to say next would put him into a downward spiral.

"Jack, that planet, it was a graveyard."

"Yeah, a dead world, no life there. You now know what used to happen there, don’t you?"

He’s so tried that he missed my meaning. The man has a steel trap for a mind. I need to end this conversation.

"It was a graveyard, literally. A place to bury their dead, a cemetery. The boards were headstones."

Jack looks stunned; sadness slowly spreads across his face. If he were well, I would never have been privy to this very visible show of emotion. Bleakness shines from his shocked eyes, I hadn’t expected this reaction. Was it the drugs or a side effect of his near poisoning?

"It was a cemetery?"

"Yes," I confirm softly, I grip his forearm in my distress. "I’m sorry."

"I liked the place, I thought it must have been a park. A place to visit, to enjoy, to have fun. Where families got together. Death was everywhere and I felt alive there, what does that say about me?" I watch the bright amber fade to black in his eyes.

"It says that you have a soul that appreciates beauty when you see it, even when it’s only wrought for the dead’s enjoyment. That you celebrated the life that was there by expressing your joy. You didn’t know that it was a place only for the dead. In no way can this fact change the good you saw into something less, you are a gentle soul Jack, you can’t always hide it."

His eyes slowly close, he relaxes into the pillows at his back, he was disconnecting. It is too much too soon. He will block it out, deny its existence.

Stroking my distressed friend, I speak mundane reassurances, lulling him to a hopefully healing sleep.

***

My team has stayed away.

For once.

I thought that I would never survive the humiliation I felt before I could escape the Infirmary to run and hide my shame from their eyes. I fled home and locked the door behind me; I shut the house tight. No light entered to illuminate my sorry soul. I plunked down an unopened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and sat down on the couch clutching an empty glass tumbler.

I could already feel the slow smoky burn slide down my throat.

Daniel let himself in three days later, I still sat there, bottle unopened, the glass in shards below the mantel. For three days, I mulled over all that I had discovered about P3R-336 and what it had done to me. I knew that Daniel was here to rehash what I had just reviewed.

I was not looking forward to it.

Sometime later, I woke up stretched out on the couch, covered with a blanket. Daniel was asleep in the armchair. I peered at my wristwatch; he arrived over 30 hours ago. I seemed to have lost a little time. Even if I slept for about eight to ten hours, that left a big chuck of time.

Did we talk that long?

I swallowed a few times, yep, my throat hurt. We must have talked for that long. Daniel didn’t act surprised to find me the way he had, but I did surprise him with the fact that I allowed him to talk about my guilt and hiding my emotions. About why I felt that I couldn’t enjoy anything. I know that we talked for a long, long time. It was an agonizing blur of painful words. I think I passed out or something. Glancing at the coffee table, I saw the bottle was still unopened.

Why did I pass out?

"How do you feel."

I hadn’t even noticed him stirring. I don’t miss things like that.

"Uh… confused. Did I pass out?"

"No, I convinced you to take one of Janet’s little pills," checking his own watch he continued, "Oh… about 18 hours ago. Guess they’re strong."

"No, they’re not. I probably needed the sleep. I’m still a little groggy."

"Some food would help that…"

At Daniel’s words, I start to get up.

"No, you stay there, I’ll take care of it."

I relax back into the couch.

I listened to him banging around in my kitchen, a kitchen that he knew just as well as I did -- he was here often enough, nursemaiding this old soldier. Just when did I start referring to myself at ‘old?’

I don’t feel old, just beaten up a bit.

I know that Daniel and I covered a lot of emotional ground before I took my little nap. I really don’t want to even think about it just now. I’ll have to, but I need to eat first and it’s about time that I see to some of the garbage in my upstairs attic.

If I had done that sooner I might have been able to save Frank, or at least clear the air with him. I know that I didn’t kill him, but he was there because of me, if I had spoken to him sometime in those seven years, maybe, just maybe he would be alive right now.

That’s a hard thing to live with, I know, I’ve been living with it for almost two months now.

I must have dozed off.

"Jack, wake up. Coffee."

I stretched before reaching out for the mug just to have it snatched from me, Daniel’s grabs my arm and starts hauling me up to sit upright.

‘He can get so aggressive when he goes into hausfrau mood. Jeez.’

"You want hot coffee all over that’s the way to do it."

"Yes, mother." I playfully slap his hands off me and smile. I do feel better. He sees and smiles in return. I sip at the coffee. I catch sight of the plate of food.

"Hmmm… fat?"

"Yes, don’t tell Janet and don’t you dare have a heart attack either, that’s the same as telling."

I actually laugh at that and he joins in. The meal is good, I was hungry, and Daniel seems pleased to see me eat.

He no doubt expected me to push my food around the plate and pretend to eat. That only happens when I’m really sick, not just… well, confused.

"Daniel… I need to talk."

"Good. With the lights on?"

"Uh… well…"

"How about I just pull the drapes?"

"Yeah, that would do."

‘Just when did he figure out that I can’t do this in the bright light of day?’

We talk though the morning, past lunch, only to break for a late lunch. We talk some more and actually wind up outside in the bright sun discussing the fact that I shouldn’t be embarrassed that everyone knows that I blame myself for Charlie’s death.

Daniel says that it’s a common feeling for parents to feel after the loss of a child. That’s when I ask since when was he a shrink.

He tells me ever since he's read every book he could find on the subject.

I think the shocked look on my face worried him a bit until I explained that no one had ever gone to that kind of trouble for me. He turned a bright shade of red telling me I was worth it and then I turned a bright shade of red telling him that he was a good friend.

We did a good job of one-upping and embarrassing ourselves for a while there.

I was right though. He is a good friend, how many people would go to the trouble to find out what someone who suffered a tragedy must be feeling and try to place themselves into those feelings. I know that I couldn’t do that, which always bring me back to why he would want me as a friend. Full circle to my feelings of inadequacy, that Daniel accuses me of having.

I’m adequate, but I could be better.

I let him leave reluctantly, promising to call if I feel the need.

He’s the best shrink I’ve ever had, If I had had one like him early in my military career I might not be as ‘confused’ as I am now. I’m less ‘confused’ than I was three days ago or even two months ago, I’m probably less confused now than at any time since Charlie’s death.

Just thinking about Charlie the pain lances though me, but it doesn’t cripple me as badly as it used to, maybe Daniel’s right, maybe someday I’ll be able to think about it and only feel sad and deprived, without the crippling, blinding pain I’ve known for so long.

I don’t know.

Time will tell.

***

I’ve had a long talk with everyone and I’m exhausted.

Daniel insisted that I would feel better if I did this and he’s right. I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet right now, but the crushing weight is gone. The feeling that I’m standing in a hole trying to see out is gone; it was easier than I thought it would be. I nearly ran before each conversation, but I bucked up and did it.

General Hammond was his usually understanding self, actually more so, he was the hardest.

I respect him; he gives me fatherly advice, and that’s something I’ve never had before. I’m grateful for his understanding and support. I talked to him about how I felt and what I wanted to do about it and he said 'yes'.

It still surprised me, 'yes', just like that.

Maybe he argues with me to keep me on my toes?

Janet was easy and I talked to her at her home, before I returned to the Mountain. I thanked her and asked when she would reinstate me for active duty. She told me right after a physical, which in her opinion was just a formality.

Another surprise.

Don’t I hate surprises? Maybe I should review that policy?

Of course Daniel was a foregone conclusion and he already knew what I wanted to do.

I needed to talk to Carter.

Carter would be difficult, Daniel told me that… well… before I regained control, my out of control actions brought up some ugly memories of her Mother’s death.

I felt bad about that and he reminded me that I shouldn’t feel that way, I had no control and I didn’t act that way because I wanted to. Well, he's right, but I still feel bad about Carter feeling bad and I talked to her about that.

She seemed a little horrified that I knew all about it, which horrified me a little bit too. We soon found ourselves laughing about the whole thing, Daniel.

Only Daniel could create a problem where one really didn’t exist. I did find that she felt bad about not being there for me and I told he that it was okay with me I wouldn’t want to remind her of that tragedy even by accident. Besides, she saved my life, she was there for me in a big BIG way.

Also, that I just wished that I could have enjoyed the sensation of having a beautiful woman run her hands though my hair.

She turned a really cool shade of red.

Telling Carter about what I wanted to do would be the hardest on her, she possesses that piece of technology I need. I told her just what I wanted to do and surprise again. It didn’t bother her, she was all for it. Anyway, she couldn’t figure out how to open it up and she has this thing about the NID or Area 51 getting any technology via the gate.

So, do I.

The biggest surprise was Teal’c, that man is a bundle of surprises. He actually anticipated my request, and had prepared for it. We both had tears floating in our eyes, mine I can understand, I’m… confused. Teal’c, he’s a rock, but right then, a marshmallow.

Got to love the guy.

So, here I stand geared up before the gate to face P3R-336.

I feel a little nervous. Ferretti and SG-2 are coming along for the ride, the General says that Ferretti insisted.

That’s okay with me.

Teal’c stands behind me with the newly repaired ‘lawnboard’ leaning against him.

SG-2 has the socket tied to a FRED along with a large flat box I had delivered.

That’s my surprise.

Carter and Daniel are here too, I see Janet standing with the General in the Control Room above. She registered a late minute complaint about my broken toe, she didn’t like the idea of me walking nearly five miles on it, so I let her wrap it for me, she even laced up my boot.

Which is the first thing I’m going to redo on the other side of the Gate, it’s too damn tight.

The Gate locks and we get the ‘go’ from the General and after a momentary disorientation, I’m alone on P3R-336. Twenty seconds later the rest start arriving, Teal’c, after securing the lawnboard to the FRED, glues himself to my side.

I think I scared him when I collapsed here.

I don’t remember any of it, but I see something of it in his eyes, I’m glad I don’t remember it.

We leisurely begin our hike to replace the lawnboard and socket in their original location, I had told the General that I didn’t feel right desecrating a burial ground, even on a world that tried to snuff me out. He said ‘yes,’ and as before that was a surprise; he will have to falsify records in order for me to do this. I would be returning a piece of alien technology. Carter says that we could return for it in about 100 years and maybe be able to open up the casing, but she doubts that even then we could understand how it works.

The ‘socket’ would not be a loss to Earth, but maybe returning it will be a gain to our future relationship with the Ancients. That could be the General’s reason, I don’t feel that my sensibilities are reasoning enough for his okay of my plan.

Daniel would have lots to say about my dismissing my worth.

He talked a lot about my importance, to SG-1, the SGC, Earth and her allies.

I don’t know how to take what he tells me; he makes me out to be some kind of hero.

I’ve done some things that could be kinda heroic...

Hey! I have an ego, just not that big of one.

He called me the glue of SG-1, I can kinda see that, I’m nothing without them. I just can’t see them being nothing without me.

Hell, Ferretti or Makepeace are just as good; they could be that glue too.

Our walk is enjoyable, a little slow, the toe you know. I do limp, but it’s not that bad. Even Teal’c tried to get me to ride on the FRED, jeez let the guy get misty eyed with ya just once and he thinks you’re make of glass from then on.

I did get a little nervous when we spotted some butterflies, but they didn’t come very close. Carter released her captive one then; it sadly limped after the colorful troop. I’m glad it survived, I don’t blame it, and it was just doing what it was created for.

Even at our deliberate slow pace we did arrive at the hole SG-2 had left after removing the ‘socket.’ Our stroll took less than two hours.

Ferretti insists that I supervise, from afar.

He and SG-2 take the time to replace the socket properly, he shows me in his actions he believes in what I’m doing, I feel humbled by his and his men’s support. Teal’c replaces the board in the socket. Daniel wants to help me down to the ground to activate the device. He backs off at my glare but not far, it is a little awkward getting down.

Who would think just a little toe could be such a problem?

I start to reach out with my finger to the depression…

"O’Neill, is that wise?"

Teal’c’s clear baritone ends my motion towards the switch.

"I don’t know. Hey, Carter, can I touch this thing without getting zapped?" I twist around to get her in my field of vision and wiggle the fingers on the hand I’m about to use so she can see them.

"Yes, sir, just don’t touch the metal strip."

I smirk up at Teal’c and poke gingerly, swiftly, briefly even, at the correct depression. Snatching it back I covertly examine it for any injury and then lurch upright only to have Teal’c assist. His action brought back that day of sailing when he helped me up after my plunge off the dock, reminding me that I was instrumental in my own rescue by insisting that Teal’c learn as much as I could cram at him about Earth.

Our eyes lock.

"Thank you." I expose my feelings for him in my eyes, I hope he can see my respect and love for him there.

He doesn’t answer me, just nods in that special way he has, and with that, I know I succeeded in passing my message to him.

"Lunch."

Someone shouts out behind us, we turn to join the others.

We all sit on the grass with a fine view of the ‘pool’ and eat. Someone went out of their way to prepare this spread. Fried chicken, potato salad, lots of cut up fresh vegetables and fruits, bottled water and specialty soft drinks and bottled teas. I make a joke about backpacking food like this on missions which gets a laugh, I am told that the cooks at the Commissary heard about us going back to P3R-336 for the afternoon and took it upon themselves to prepare the food.

I will have to remember to thank them.

Near the end of the meal, the rumblings began about my mysterious box. I let them know that that would be the last thing to attend to before walking back. I shouldn’t have said anything; they hurriedly eat, clean up and pack.

The next thing I know Teal’c is standing before me with the box, I turn and he follows me to the edge of the pool, everyone trailing behind him.

I turn and clear my throat as I remove my hat, this is not a dumb bunch, and they all remove their hats and gave me their attention.

"We, in our zeal for knowledge, inadvertently desecrated a sacred place, not to us, but to a benevolent race we already have a respect for even before having contact with them. I am proud that we were able to repair most of the damage and prey that our good wishes will repair the rest. A moment of silence if you please."

I am proud to see them all bow their heads to honor the dead of a great race.

I join them in homage freely given.

"Thank you, I have one more thing to do before we leave, attention!"

That got their… ah… attention. I step up to Teal’c and remove a floral wreath from the box and in my best parade ground style I march to the edge of the pool and carefully kneel to place the wreath on the water, standing I salute, knowing that everyone behind me does the same. I observe another moment of silence, about face and…

"Dismissed."

I have to deal with a lot of admiration at my wreath idea on the way back to the gate. I find it a little embarrassing, just telling them that it felt right.

We’re returning on the other side of the ‘pool’ completely walking around it. That felt right too. Even with less to carry the second leg of our journey takes almost as long as the first, too much food probably.

I’m not admitting to the toe pain at all.

I watch everyone return though the Stargate, only Teal’c and I remain, I had prearranged this with the General before going, he could find no reason to deny me this little indulgence. Anyway it’s more for Teal’c than me.

Turning my head I look at the man in question who raises a remarkably vocal eyebrow, but speaks anyway.

"Contemplation."

"Got it in one Buddy."

I clap my Warrior Brother on the shoulder and focus my attention on the beauty around us.

With the Stargate at our backs we both look out over the pool and lose ourselves in the wondrous creation of an alien race. Over time, the landscape transforms as the shadows lengthen before the setting star to the west.

I eventually wind up sitting on the grass, I plan on staying until full night, I want to see the stars, no Earth human has seen the stars from here and I wanted to be the first. The long shadows are soon lost in the gloom of pre-night.

Teal’c points out drifting lights in the distance. ‘Butterflies’ or ‘fireflies?’ The dancing lights are just like watching satellites, only visible for a short time before full dark.

However, this world never sees full dark; the sky is draped with the most sublime gas nebula I have ever seen, in person or photograph. Surely the Ancients couldn’t have planned this could they; this type of nebula doesn’t exist long. It’s long to us but the age of the buildings on this planet says that this sight would not have existed when they were built.

Did the Ancients have some way to predict it, or even create it?

We’ll never know until we find them.

I find I have a renewed desire to see one of their main worlds. Just to experience the creations of such a great race, to know who and what they are would feel good.

Right now though, I’ll settle for this view.

Stumbling upright, I stand shoulder to shoulder with Teal’c. Neither of us needs to crane our necks upward, the view is just as good straight ahead where the black water of the pool below us reflects the glowing stellar dust.

The very air aglow in reds, pinks, blues and violets of the excited particles light-seconds above us.

"Beautiful." My awe at the sight can be heard in my hushed words, I feel like I’m in church.

"Truly." Teal’c’s single word more expressive than any dozen, but he continues, "Are you ‘fine’ O’Neill?"

"I’m better than ‘fine’ right now, I’ve started a new trend of being ‘better than fine.’ "

I believe it, really believe it and so does Teal’c.

"Than I am, again, content." His conviction is comforting.

"Good for you Buddy. Good for you."

BetaTested by CiGiK - Cape Town - South Africa - 27th April 2004