Precog

By Biltong

*A deserted planet gives O’Neill the gift of second sight, a gift the NID wish to possess.

------------------------------

"Well, this is interesting."

Jack O’Neill looked up from his position on the cave floor and regarded his companion critically.

"What is interesting?" He lay down the gun he had been cleaning and smoothly rose to his feet.

"Does it tell us why we are all alone on a hot and sandy planet?"

He peered over Daniel’s shoulder at the faint pigeon scratches Daniel had found so fascinating.

"Ah yes, I see," he said studiously. "It says that they were all kidnapped by aliens."

Daniel snorted and jerked around to regard his friend, a look of surprise on his face.

"How did you know?"

Jack gave his companion a critical look.

"Please Daniel, tell me what it really says so that we can get the hell off this hell planet and go home."

...

He and Daniel had been sent to PG7 476 in order to do a quick recon. This planet had been visited before, by SG8, who had found a planet consisting of nothing but sand and caves.

Somebody had lived here, eons ago, because the caves were not a natural phenomenon. They were bored straight down into the planet’s core, making it look as if the whole planet was nothing but sand.

Unfortunately for Jack, SG8 hadn’t had a linguist, whereas SG1 had.

…

"Jack," Daniel said, sounding disgusted. "I just did."

"Did what?" Jack said, making his way into the next cave.

The underground village was a technical masterpiece, and would have remained so had not Lieutenant Caruthers of SG8 walked over a large slab of exposed rock, and found it hollow.

SG8 had no linguist, but they had a very good engineer.

A day later SG8 had returned with fantastic tales of an underground village and SG1 had been given a go.

Well, half of them at any rate.

"I wonder how Sam is doing." Jack called to Daniel, kneeling next to an ornamental fountain and dipping his water bottle below the dust that lay on the surface.

Carter was slated to join them as well, but had slipped in the infirmary and cut her leg open quite badly.

"I bet she is giving Janet a really hard time," Daniel said wandering in and leaning against the wall.

"And beating the hell out of anyone in the medical section when it comes to chess," Jack said.

"Probably," Daniel said.

He nodded to the water bottle. "Are you sure that you should be doing that?"

"I’ve been drinking it all day," Jack said with a smile, and held up a white tablet. "And you know I always do this."

He popped the purification tablet inside and shook hard. "According to SG8 the water checks out okay, but there is no harm in being sure."

"Uh huh," Daniel said doubtfully, watching as Jack drank deeply. When he didn’t immediately curl up his toes and collapse, he took the proffered bottle and took his own swig.

"After all, it’s a long way back to the stargate, and we had better stay hydrated," Jack murmured approvingly.

Daniel nodded in agreement, staring around the opulent cave with wide eyes.

"Wow," he said. "Now I’ve finished the translation, can I explore?"

Jack shook his head.

"No, SG8 have all the video footage you need, besides…"

His voice trailed off as he belatedly realized what Daniel had said.

"You’re finished?"

Daniel nodded. "Sure, I told you so, remember?"

Jack looked puzzled.

"When?"

"Just now. You asked if the populace had been kidnapped by aliens and I said yes."

"Oh crap," Jack said, sinking to sit on the side of the fountain. "Gou’ald?"

Daniel nodded seriously. "More than likely, yes. The translation said that they were after the seer."

Jack frowned. "The what?"

"The seer." Daniel pointed back to the other cave. "That’s what all the writing is about. According to whomever wrote that, the Gou’ald arrived in big ships with the sole intent on capturing the seer, a mystical man that advised the king on what was to come. When the king refused to divulge the seer’s whereabouts, the Gou’ald started to abduct the population in retaliation."

"Finally, the king broke, and led them to the seer’s hiding place, but the old man was dead, having seen what was to happen and committed suicide rather than become an all powerful host.

"So the Gou’ald took the population anyway?" Jack asked bitterly.

Daniel nodded. "Most. Some managed to hide and fled via the gate, but the mysterious Gou’ald took most away with him, or her."

"So who was this mysterious seer?" Jack asked. "Was he a magician like Merlin or something?"

"Beats me," Daniel said. "All I have is a badly written poem from whomever left the message on the cave wall."

He cleared his throat.

"From generation to generation, the chosen seer sees all.

Age brings wisdom, for some it brings more.

Drink hearty my friends, for the torch must pass on,

Maybe it will be you who will be the next one."

Jack shuddered. "Oh man, that’s bad."

"Tell me about it," Daniel said, perching next to his friend on the edge of the fountain.

"Any idea what it means?" Jack asked, getting to his feet with a bone cracking stretch.

"I can only surmise that the gift of precognition was a hereditary one, one that the Gou’ald wanted really badly to use. When the seer committed suicide, he kidnapped the whole population in the hopes of finding another."

"The gift of what?" Jack asked, padding off to find his pack.

"Precognition," Daniel said. "Of seeing the future."

"Oh please," Jack grunted. He pointed to Daniel’s discarded pack. "Let’s go, my believer of myths and legends, Teal’c is anxious to see us."

Daniel picked up his own pack. "That I doubt," he muttered as Jack made his way towards the barren surface.

"I doubt that," he called to Jack’s retreating back. "The ceremony of Pu’lac takes three days to complete. Teal’c is stuck on Chulak for another day yet."

"Maybe," Jack said with a grin, his eyes hidden behind his goggled sunglasses. "But I have this feeling that he has returned early and is dying to tell us something."

Daniel frowned. "Have you gone all psychic on me?" he asked.

Jack laughed lightly; setting up a blistering pace that Daniel had no problems following.

"Me? Old thick headed me? Hell no. One seer on this planet is more than enough, believe me."

……

Somehow, Daniel wasn’t too surprised to see both Sam and Teal’c waiting at the bottom of the ramp when they returned.

"O’Neill," the tall Jaffa said in his deep bass voice. "I bid you welcome."

"As I do you," Jack said smilingly. "What disaster befell Chulak to get you home so early?" He handed his pack to an airman and smiled a welcome at Carter.

"An earthquake," Teal’c rumbled. "Perhaps when you have finished your medical we can sit down and I can regale you as to what transpired."

"I’d love that." He turned to Carter. "How’s the leg?" he asked.

" Better now sir," she replied with a grimace, "Janet has stitched me up as good as new."

"Are you still beating everyone within sight at chess?" he asked.

She looked at him, startled.

"How did you know?"

He smiled easily. "Sheer logic Carter. You were setting up the board as we left yesterday, and as Daniel can attest, you are getting very good in your old age."

She snorted, limping after them, touched at their deliberate slower pace. "Speak for yourself sir. You have over ten years on little old me."

He grimaced and punched the elevator button. "Please, don’t remind me."

They were still laughing together when they all finally made the infirmary.

…

"So how was PG whatever?" Dr Janet Fraiser asked.

"Sandy," O’Neill grunted, allowing her to manipulate his head this way and that, doing whatever tests she usually did.

"But fascinating," Daniel said from the other bed where nurse Wynn was giving him his own examination. "The cave system looks extensive. I can’t wait to see the video footage that SG8 took.

He paused for breath. "Did you know they had a seer?"

"A psychic?" Janet asked absently, staring at O’Neill with a frown.

"Colonel, you are running a slight temperature," she said, before Daniel could answer.

"Are you feeling okay?"

He looked up at her and grinned. "I’m fine, just glad to be home."

"You sure?" she asked, removing his blood pressure cuff.

"About being glad to be home?" he looked at her with sparkling eyes, deliberately misinterpreting her. "I’m sure."

"Not that, numbskull," she said, swatting his shoulder. "Your temperature is elevated to such a degree that by rights I should keep you here overnight for observation."

He looked at her with pitiful puppy-dog eyes. "Please no. Don’t make me stay here tonight. The canteen is serving meatloaf, to me it always looks like road kill."

"Gross," Carter muttered.

"How do you know that they’re serving meatloaf?" Daniel asked, perched on the edge of his bed.

"If you’re right, that will be the fourth incidence of truly weird behavior from you in the past four hours."

"I have…no idea," Jack said slowly, looking at Daniel with a helpless expression. "I just felt that we are due to be served meatloaf tonight and I didn’t want to be within sixty feet of it."

Teal’c rose to his feet from where he had been unobtrusively sitting. "I will check the canteen for this meat loaf, O’Neill," he rumbled, and walked out.

"From generation to generation, the chosen seer sees all," Daniel said slowly, reciting the words written on the cave wall.

"Age brings wisdom, for some it brings more. Drink hearty my friends, for the torch must pass on, maybe it will be you who will be the next one."

"Oh that is truly awful," Carter said.

"But relevant," Daniel said thoughtfully.

"One of the caves had an ornamental fountain from which fresh spring water bubbled. Maybe it wasn’t so fresh after all."

"I see where you’re going with this," Janet said patiently. "However if the water was the problem, and your blood work will soon attest to that, why has Colonel O’Neill been infected and not you?

"Or SG8 for that matter," Carter said. "They drank from the fountain as well."

"Because we’re not old enough?" Daniel asked. "Age brings wisdom, for some it brings more."

"Oh for crying out aloud," Jack snapped, abruptly sitting upright.

He pointed a finger at Daniel. "If, and I mean, if, I have been infected with something, it is not the gift of second sight. That I can promise you."

The infirmary door crashed open. "O’Neill you are right. The canteen menu has been changed since we were last there and they are indeed serving this meat loaf."

…

"If this gets out it could cause major problems for the SGC," General Hammond grunted, staring at the people sat around the briefing table. "Not to mention the personal danger to Colonel O’Neill if the NID ever find out."

"No shit," O’Neill muttered, earning himself a glare. He stared idly at the top of the stargate, the only bit he could see from his slouched position and then stiffened.

"Doc, SG2 are en-route, and they have a critically injured man with them."

"You sure?" she asked, reaching for the phone nonetheless.

"Positive."

…

"So, how does this work?"

Jack O’Neill looked up from his office computer and sighed. His day had consisted of exam after exam as seemingly every doctor the SGC possessed demanded a bit of his hide. After enduring a particularly painful lumbar puncture, he had finally rebelled and retreated to his office, with excuses of mission reports to fill out.

"Hey, long time no see. Come in, sit down, make yourself at home."

Daniel smiled and pushed himself away from the doorjamb he had been leaning against.

"Thanks," Daniel said, ignoring the sarcasm. "The meatloaf was very good. You should have joined us."

"If I try to shuffle more than a few feet I get dizzy," Jack said with a wry grimace. "You try wandering around the base with half your blood drained."

He pointed at the half eaten plate of fruit an airman had delivered. "This will do. Besides, you aren’t confined to base; you could have left any time."

"Not without you," Daniel said softly.

"Now, tell me how it works."

"I don’t really know," Jack sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It’s not as if I have a drum roll or fireworks going off in my head or anything just before I kinda know something."

He shrugged helplessly. "I just do."

"But it’s not infallible," he continued as Daniel drew in a deep breath. "Certain things I still don’t know, like I had no idea you were leaning in the doorway, looking at me."

"That may be just as well," Daniel said thoughtfully. "If you knew everything that was going to happen to everybody in the SGC, well, I think you would go insane. Maybe infallibility is your safety valve."

Jack nodded, his face harshly shadowed by the computer’s light, the only source of illumination in the room.

"Maybe," he said slowly. "I have also been trying to deliberately suck things out of my brain, like the winning lottery numbers." He shrugged. "So far I haven’t been having much luck."

"Pity," Daniel grinned. "Maybe it takes time to fully develop."

"I don’t think so," Jack said slowly. "Somehow I believe this is a developed as it gets.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched with a groan. "Carter and Teal’c are on their way."

He nodded to the percolator. "You pour the coffee and I’ll get the light."

Daniel nodded, feeling his scalp contract. People would kill for such a gift, or to own someone who possessed such a gift.

He blinked owlishly as the main fluorescent lights flickered on.

"If the NID ever finds out…" he said.

Jack’s smile was bitter.

"They already know, Daniel."

"Know what, sir?" Carter asked from the doorway.

"The NID already know that the SGC now possess a Colonel that can see into the future," Jack said, offering her a chair.

"Oh, shit sir," she breathed. "I bet they are real interested in having a word with you."

"Indeed," Teal’c said, simultaneously snagging the last chair and thrusting a cling-wrapped plate at Jack.

"I appropriated this for you, O’Neill. A double helping of chocolate mousse, with sprinkles," he rumbled.

"You should have seen him in action, sir." Carter said with a smile. "Pure Jaffa strength and cunning. The canteen staff didn’t know what hit them."

""Thanks Teal’c," Jack said, genuinely touched.

"How did the NID find out?" Daniel asked angrily as he carefully removed the thin plastic.

"Dunno," he answered.

"You don’t?" Carter asked, startled.

"Hey, I’m not omnipotent, you know," he said.

"He doesn’t know the winning lottery numbers either," Daniel moaned. "Some seer he’s turning out to be."

"Damn," Carter said darkly, making them all laugh.

"Has Doctor Fraiser found out the cause for your affliction?" Teal’c asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Carter, who had been working with Fraiser.

She shook her head in response.

"Not yet, which reminds me. She’s going to need some more of your blood in order to run some more tests."

Jack sat the empty bowl back on his desk with a grimace.

"More tests?" At the rate she’s going I’m gonna be completely drained by ten tonight."

They all smiled at his weak joke.

"When does she want me?" he asked, and then shook his head smiling ruefully.

"Don’t bother answering that, I already know."

…

"Surely you can order him to come here?" the tall man asked. "You have the rank. Once he is out of the mountain, he is ours. Just order him."

The general grunted doubtfully. "If he really is psychic, as our operative insists he is, he will know it is a trap, and take preventative steps."

"But he would have to obey," the man insisted.

"He would merely have to complain about some mysterious abdominal pain, and that overzealous doctor of theirs would have him under observation and out of sight for weeks."

"So we can’t touch him?" the man asked bitterly.

The general regarded the civilian with beady eyes.

"I never said that. In fact, I already have a plan in motion, one with an 85% success rate."

"Oh really?" the man asked. "What?"

The general shook his head.

"I’d rather not say, just in case the target can ‘read’ easier off of more than one person."

He shook his head. "God, this sounds like science fiction."

"Guess what?" the senator said darkly. "What he and his team do is science fiction."

…

"We’ll have our first real results soon," Janet Fraiser said, looking at Colonel O’Neill with a smile. "I’m sure of it

He looked up from his place on the edge of the infirmary bed and raised a cynical eyebrow.

"Oh really?"

She nodded. "Whatever this is has got to be at the most micro of micro molecular levels."

He looked at her blankly and she smiled.

"Whatever it is, it somehow transferred itself into your bloodstream, and from thereon to your brain."

"My brain?" he asked faintly.

She nodded. "You are showing increased activity in the…." She stopped at his blank look.

"Suffice it to say, you are using more of your brain than you usually do.

"Good for me," he said sarcastically. "Now, how do we get rid of it?"

He held up his hand before she even opened her mouth.

"Don’t tell me that," he said, spooking her. "I want it gone."

"Sorry Colonel," she said. "If I could, I would."

He hung his head.

"I know that, Doc," he whispered.

…

"Son, I want you to stay on base for a week. If in that time nothing untoward happens, I’ll reinstate you to active duty again."

"Yes sir."

General Hammond looked over his desk at his second, noticing the glazed expression and dark circles under his eyes, and realized with a start that it was in fact the early hours of a new morning.

His second was exhausted, which was unsurprising since his day started with a mission to PG7 476 at 05H00 and was still going strong.

"Colonel," he said kindly. "I want you to get some rest, and that’s an order. There is absolutely nothing we can do now."

O’Neill nodded. "You’re right sir," he sighed, carefully getting to his feet. "With your permission, I would like to sleep in my office." His eyes flashed. "I so don’t want to be anywhere near the infirmary tonight."

Hammond nodded.

"Permission granted," he said, although he had a feeling his second already knew this.

…

All the members of SG teams had, on some occasion or the other, to sleep on base. Because of this need, the SGC had been fitted out with soft, luxurious cots that could be folded away at a moments notice.

It was to his cot in his office that Jack O’Neill now headed, or staggered more likely.

It had been years since he had felt so tired, something his team must have noticed, because after their swift goodnights, he was left alone to navigate back to his office on his own.

Sleep had never seemed more inviting. Ignoring the cacophony of voices in his head warring for his attention, he pulled down his bed and threw himself on top of it, fully clothed.

He was asleep within minutes.

…

Many different breeds of people work in the SGC in the early hours of the morning, people who are rarely seen, but too play an integral part in the war against the Gou’ald.

Cleaners nodded sleepy greetings to cooks who in turn greeted maintenance crews who had kind words to say to departing SG teams, for the time on earth rarely mattered when it came to other planets.

These teams, living on the edge, with critical jobs to do, nodded back, as courtesy demanded, but didn’t really see their greeters. They were just there.

Cleaners, cooks, maintenance people all had an important part to play, but, unlike the elite SG teams, were for the most part, invisible.

It was this cloak of invisibility that two cleaners relied on that morning, outside Colonel O’Neill’s office just after 04H00.

"This gonna work?" a hulking figure called Mylon asked the other, reaching into the deep laundry hamper he was pushing and grabbing a clear vial of liquid.

"Yeah," the other, an unsavory looking lieutenant, said confidently. "I’ve done this before. Gimmee." He roughly snatched the bottle from his sergeant’s hands and opened it, splashing a considerable amount onto a dirty rag.

"When we get in there, hold his feet," he ordered. "Remember, he is Special Forces trained."

"So am I," the Mylon muttered. "Its not my fault I’m a cleaner."

"Shaddup, the lieutenant muttered, his hand on the door handle. "Ready?"

The sergeant nodded, his close proximity to the soaked cloth beginning to make his eyes water.

"Do it."

…

The screaming in his head finally managed to wake Jack O’Neill from his deep slumbers.

But by then it was way too late. He was conscious of a heavy weight across his legs as an acrid rag was shoved firmly over his mouth a nose, making breathing impossible.

He tried to struggle, managing to smash both of his assailants away from him, one of them reeling back against his desk to connect with his computer with a crash, but he was exhausted, his frenetic day having sapped his strength.

Before he knew it, the weight was back across his legs, aborting his attempt at escape, and the chloroform soaked cloth returned to his face.

He still bucked and heaved, but feebly now. Struggling took oxygen, and he was weakening with each clogged breath he took.

Finally, his body gave in to the inevitable, and he convulsed and lay still.

…

"Hurry, now," the lieutenant said, still trembling at the effort that subduing the Colonel had cost.

"Get him in the hamper and let’s go."

Dirty laundry was hastily pulled out and O’Neill was thrown in, the laundry immediately replaced, hiding his limp form from prying eyes.

"Go, go," the lieutenant hissed, frantic to be anywhere else but in the office of Colonel O’Neill. He still ached from crashing into the computer, and the noise it made as it hit the floor was bound to have been heard by someone.

They warily opened the door, and, relieved to find the corridor clear, casually pushed their load up and out of Cheyenne Mountain.

…

"It is there, Daniel. It’s got to be, at the sub-molecular level."

Dr Janet Fraiser looked at Daniel Jackson tiredly, and pointed at the computer image of Colonel O’Neill’s brain again.

"There, in the cerebellum and surrounding gray matter, see the red markings? They represent unusual activity in areas of the brain that have up to now been dormant."

Daniel placed a slender finger against the glass, tracing the large area with a thoughtful air.

"So how did they get stimulated, or rather, how did whatever get into Jack’s brain to stimulate it in the first place?"

She shook her head and sat in her office chair with a frustrated groan. "That we’re still working on, Daniel. Give us a break, it hasn’t been twelve hours yet."

She looked as tired as Daniel did, or Sam for that matter.

They had all been working through the night trying to determine what had happened to Colonel O’Neill, and whether Daniel and the members of SG8 were at risk as well. So far, they had hit a blank wall.

In desperation, Janet had sent Teal’c back to PG7 476 with instructions to collect as many samples as he could, in the hopes that they could finally find the underlying cause of their mystery.

So far, the samples had proved to be benign. Even the water.

"We finally threw up our metaphorical hands and gave everything to the guru’s in Washington," Carter said from her position on one of the beds in the empty infirmary. "They’re pretty jacked up, so to speak." She smiled slightly at her unintentional pun. "They have the highest clearance, and if there is anything unusual, they’ll find it."

"So we can sleep now?" Daniel asked plaintively. He looked at the clock on the office wall.

"God, it’s ten to five in the morning."

Fraiser nodded. "There is nothing more we can do. All we can do now is wait, and we can easily do that by sleeping."

She slowly got to her feet. "I’m going to just check on the Colonel, and I too am going to get some sleep. We’re no good to anybody in an exhausted state."

Teal’c straightened from his position against the wall.

"I will accompany you, Doctor Fraiser," he said.

His tone left no room for argument.

…

"Colonel?"

Jack O'Neill's office was in darkness, which didn't surprise Janet Fraiser in the least.

The poor man had had a hard day, from babysitting Daniel on a strange planet to returning and suddenly finding out he had brain abnormalities. The myriad of tests, she had put him through, whilst being necessary, also must have contributed to his exhaustion.

The poor man must be dead to the world. Nevertheless, he was still her patient, and warranted a check up.

"Colonel?" She leaned forwards, groping for the light switch, and turned his office into dazzling light.

...

"What the heck?"

Daniel had just taken off his boots when the base was filled with a cacophony of noise.

"Oh shit, Jack."

He heard the rumble as the base shut down as he frantically retied his laces. Once done, he took off towards Jack's office like a hare.

If he was wrong about the reason for the foothold, so be it, but somehow he doubted it.

Teal'c was standing outside O'Neill's door, watching as two MP's carefully investigated the room. Janet was standing at his side; her tiny form tense with worry.

"Janet, Teal'c, what happened?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"O'Neill has been kidnapped," Teal'c said darkly.

Janet nodded, her face sick. "There is a mess in there, where Colonel O'Neill obviously fought whomever they were. Major Simons also says they have found a chloroform soaked rag."

"Oh God," Daniel muttered. "He told us the NID already knew. We were stupid; we should have put a guard on him.

"That was my mistake," General Hammond said from behind him. His face was dark with fury, as was Major Carter, who stared at the glass littering the floor in O'Neill's office with hard eyes.

"We are all to blame," Teal'c said, lightening his load somewhat. "O'Neill told us the NID knew of his abilities, but chose to ignore the danger. He gestured to the empty office. "This is the result."

"So now we do something, and fast," Hammond grated. He jerked his head at Janet and the rest of SG1. "The briefing room, now."

...

"Pjaschtads."

Jack O'Neill lay on the back seat of the suburban and glared at his captives groggily.

"Grtann Pjaschtads."

Damn, he was going to have to do better than that.

"What was that Colonel?"

The thick-necked man who sat in the passenger seat craned round and stared at him critically.

"You trying to tell us something?" His smile was evil. "Maybe an insult or something?"

He reached backwards and cuffed O'Neill, making him see stars.

"Quit it, Mylon," the driver said irritably. "He's tied hand and foot, and pumped full of thorozine. Leave him be."

"Okay boss," the man called Mylon said, but showed no signs of facing forwards again.

"How does it feel, to know that right now, you're as helpless as a baby?" he hissed. "They use thorozine on psychopaths, you know. Quietens them right down."

He gave O’Neill’s face a heavy pat. "You couldn’t escape even if I gave you the car keys and a shove in your back. As long as that stuff flows in your veins, well, we own you."

"Linngt Hnell," Jack muttered, feeling the warm feeling of the narcotic dull his thinking, sending insidious tendrils of warmth into his bones.

"Damn you," he said with exquisite precision, trying very hard not to surrender to the darkness.

He looked down at the blue bruise in the crook of his arm with dismay, and surreptitiously tested his bonds.

At least he thought he was surreptitious.

"Quit struggling Colonel," Mylon snarled, no longer pleasant, leaning back and tapping his head hard with the butt of the gun.

"Sergeant, stop that," the driver snapped.

Jack O'Neill knew with an awful certainty what was going to happen next, and hunched down into the back seat. He also knew he was going to survive it, barely.

The driver took his eyes off the road, furious at Mylon's use of a gun on a helpless captive.

"Mylon," he yelled. "Leave that bastard a...

Suddenly the car gave a lurch they were flying, the sound of tearing metal left far behind. Then rolling in a hissing scraping sound, sending a helplessly bound Colonel O'Neill and two other people who thought seat belts were for wimps, bucking and crashing inside.

Abruptly the rear window exploded in a shower of glass, and O'Neill was ejected from the car.

Still rolling, the drug helped rather than hindered, sending O'Neill straight into the arms of Morpheous.

He was mercifully unaware of his legs snapping like twigs as he continued to roll down the steep hill, his limp trajectory now taking him on a different path from his captors still trapped in the car.

Finally, he came to rest in a cloud of dust, lying like a limp rag doll far away from the car not to be burnt by flying debris when the gas tank blew some minutes later.

...

"We must do something," Daniel said desperately. "What's the use of sitting here, discussing what to do? We should be out there, not be sitting in here like stuffed dummies."

General Hammond stared at Jackson, noticing his general air of exhaustion, and realized with a start that SG1 had been on duty for almost 24 hours. No wonder Jackson was irritable.

"Daniel," he said gently. "We are waiting for SG3 and 5 to join us. Major Ferretti is a very skilled tracker, and Colonel Van Ryn is a medical doctor, as well as leading SG5, a search and rescue team."

"Thank you General," Major Carter said, cutting Dr Jackson off with a warning glare.

"When they do arrive, SG1 will stand down," Hammond said firmly. "That includes you Teal'c. You will leave matters in their hands for eight hours whilst you get some rest."

"But, I won't be able to sleep," Daniel said plaintively.

Hammond raised an eyebrow. "Doctor?"

"I'm sure I can help, sir," she said with a small smile.

...

The dawn in Colorado Springs that Tuesday morning was spectacular. The summer orb of the sun changed a dark blue sky into one full of reds and yellows, where fluffy white clouds hung like freshly washed poodles, waiting for their masters.

The sight was such a pretty one, that it cheered many a commuter on their way to work, making them wish they had nothing better to do than just sit somewhere quiet and watch nature at work.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was doing just that from his vantage point high up in the mountains, although in his case he had no choice. Besides, his brain wasn't communicating too well with his eyes just yet, so, although he was looking upwards, he wasn't actually seeing anything.

He was still lost in a comforting haze of drug-induced oblivion, which was just as well, considering the fact that had he been awake and aware, the pain from his shattered legs would have had him screaming in agony.

Unlike Colorado Springs, there was no traffic high up in the mountains. No voices marred the silence. In fact, the only sounds to be heard were the buzzing of bees in search of pollen, a burble of a nearby brook, and the harsh metallic tick-tick sound of cooling metal.

…

Daniel, Sam, and Teal’c walked out of the mountain eight hours later into a scene of cold, efficient, chaos.

The entire parking lot had been turned into a helipad, onto which helicopters were taking off and landing, all under the command of one blonde haired figure sat at a desk just to one side of the parking lot, Colonel Zechariah Van Ryn.

"Wow," Carter yelled to her companions, her eyes wide. "He sure knows how to get things done."

"I wonder what they did to my car," Daniel asked, staring at the barren parking lot dubiously.

"More than likely junked it, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c said, carefully keeping his face expressionless as the linguist whipped his head around to glare at him.

‘You have been speaking to Jack," he complained. "Just because the car is square and beige and from the Far East doesn’t mean that it’s a piece of junk, you know."

"If I wished, I could push my hand through your door, so thin is the Tau’ri metal used in it’s construction," Teal’c said, inclining his head slightly as Van Ryn noticed them and waved them over. "Colonel O’Neill is correct in his entreaties that you obtain another means of transportation."

"God, I hope Jack is okay," Daniel muttered.

"He will be," Sam muttered. "You know the Colonel, a born survivor."

"Any luck sir?" she called to Van Ryn, knowing that had there been, the place would be far less noisy.

"Not yet major," he said, his icy light blue eyes seeming to pass straight through her. "SG2 are combing the areas to each side of the road between Cheyenne Mountain and Colorado Springs, and SG5 are flying aerial reconnaissance with those." He pointed a silver pen at one of the helicopters as it roared into the sky.

"Can we help?" Daniel asked, braving the icy eyes stoically. Years ago, he wouldn’t ever have volunteered for anything, feeling left out, a civilian fraud in a sea of Air Force people, but those days were long gone. He knew he was treated differently from the other civilians, and figured out that it was because he made an effort to join, to conform. Well, on earth at any rate.

"Yes Jackson," Van Ryn said. "You can take over here, coordinating the search." He stood and stretched. "I am going to take Teal’c and Major Carter up to investigate the far side of Cheyenne Mountain." He pointed to an unshaded area on the map. "Here."

"Do you think there is something up there?" Carter asked. "The reason why I ask," she said hastily, "is the fact that there isn’t much out that way when it comes to civilization."

Van Ryn didn’t seem annoyed by her comments.

"I have been trying to get into their heads, Major, and I concur. That is the reason why I believe they chose this route, because we would more than likely overlook our own backyard."

"This would imply great intelligence on their part," Teal’c said slowly.

"Or great intelligence on someone else’s part," Van Ryn said slowly. "Keep O’Neill holed up, more than likely drugged up to the eyeballs, in a deserted shack somewhere until we spread the search further afield, then bring him back down at leisure."

"Oh God sir," Carter said, going white. "You could be right."

…

The bees were annoying him. On the other hand, maybe they were wasps. All he knew was that sleep eluded him because of the noise.

No, whatever they were, they weren’t wasps. They sounded like lawnmowers. Yep, that was right, more on the mark. They were lawnmowers. Somewhere somebody had a shit load of lawnmowers all going at once, ruining his sleep.

Dammit, that wasn’t all. His arm was wet. Moreover, he was hot. His face felt hot, as if he were lying in the sun.

Jack O’Neill awoke slowly, gazing up at the blue sky above him with blank eyes for the longest time, until finally some tiny part of his brain started to feed him information.

You are hurt, you are drugged, there are bad men around, and no one knows where you are.

And by the way, you have a freezing hand.

"Wha th ell?"

His tongue felt thick in his mouth, making talking difficult.

"Wha appened?" To his distress, no one answered.

He returned his gaze to the blue sky, noticing a bird gently wheeling in circles far, far up above, almost in the stratosphere and smiled.

He was on earth.

That bird had so much freedom up there. Earth would be so far away in his perspective, the tiny figure of Jack O’Neill wouldn’t even figure at all.

He wondered vaguely just how come he was flat on his back in a field watching a bird do lazy circles when he should be in the SGC working hard, but the mechanics of it seemed too difficult to work out.

What he could do, however, was remove his hand from the cold.

He slowly moved his arm, bringing his cold appendage to his lips. It was wet.

"Waer." As expected, no one answered.

"Wan waer."

He blissfully sucked each digit dry, licking at the precious fluid until there was no more.

"Dmn, more waer wanted."

When Zack arrived, the man was going to have a tongue lashing for not helping his friend out.

There was nothing for it but for him to find his own water. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

Hopefully, he could drink some before the bad guys found him again.

Suddenly, with awful certainty, Jack O’Neill remembered what had happened, the drugged mist clearing slightly.

He had been in a car wreck. The why and how were still mysteries, but the important things were all there.

He was lying at the base of a hill, he hurt, and no one knew where he was.

"Way t’ go Jack," he muttered fuzzily, the mist once more keeping him prisoner.

"But wan drink." Somewhere close by there was a stream, he could hear it.

"Water?" His right hand hit the water with a splash, and he grunted with satisfaction.

"Water. No prob," he muttered dizzily, reaching for the purification tablets he always kept in his vest pocket, only to pause in confusion when he found no vest.

"Earth, home," he muttered eventually, laughing harshly.

"Drink."

He rolled onto his hip, and screamed.

Waves of agony from his shattered legs rushed over him, overwhelming the numbing effects of the drug in his system, overloading his already precarious grasp on consciousness, and dropping his head fully into the stream, where he began to drown.

…

Colonel Van Ryn tapped Major Samantha Carter’s shoulder, pointing down wordlessly at a narrow path leading up what looked like a steep incline.

"Follow that, Major," his metallic voice said through the headphones. "If you look closely you can see that some sort of vehicle has passed this way recently."

She nodded, and bought the helicopter around a smooth arc, hoping that van Ryn was right.

So far, they had seen nothing, and the day was waning. Now she had this dreaded fear that if this narrow path situated between two golden fields of tenacious wheat didn’t pan out, Van Ryn would call the search off, calling it a day.

It was Teal’c, with his eagle eyes that noticed the spiral of smoke drifting up lazily into the sky.

"There. Go there."

Carter had seen the smoke as well. "Hold on," she snapped, sending the helicopter into a steep dive.

Colonel Van Ryn immediately focused his binoculars to where Teal’c was pointing, and grunted with satisfaction, a tired smile of victory coming to his face as Carter gently coaxed the helicopter to hover at the base of what was a steep hill.

"I believe we have found him," he said.

"Oh God, look." They all turned to see where Carter was pointing, only to see a bloodied figure dressed in olive BDU’s face down in a stream.

Teal’c was instantly out of the helicopter and falling to earth, uncaring as to how he would land.

…

"Teal’c!"

Teal’c’s hasty departure caused the helicopter to pitch and yaw, making Carter frantically level out before they chopped his head off, or joined him the hard way.

"Dammit," she muttered, deciding the ground next to the stream had just better be hard enough to take the weight of a medium sized helicopter and plunked it down.

"Colonel!"

She was out of the helicopter within seconds, Van Ryn right behind her, skidding to a halt next to a kneeling Teal’c.

"Colonel…Jack?" Her voiced cracked as she saw how Teal’c held him, like there was no hope left.

He made a tragic sight. He had the unconscious form of Jack O’Neill sitting back against his thighs, tenderly cradling him, as one would a baby.

Jack’s face was bone white, his slack hands curled up in his lap, just above the bloody mess of what had to be badly broken legs.

"He breaths no more," Teal’c said sadly, as Van Ryn pulled O’Neill from his grasp.

"You people really need to master CPR," Van Ryn muttered, his hands frantic as he lay O’Neill flat on the grass, pulling his head back and opening his airway.

Jack was still warm; giving Van Ryn hope that there may still be vestiges of life left in his friends body, somewhere.

Praying that his drowning had recently happened, Van Ryn pinched Jack’s nose, pressed his lips to his colleague’s mouth and breathed deeply, seeing Jack’s chest rise with satisfaction.

The doctor in him knew that the lungs never completely filled with fluids. Oh sure, there was enough water in Jack’s lungs to stop his breathing and effectively kill him, but there was still space for oxygen, and if he could force enough inside, he could maybe keep Jack alive.

"One two three four…One two three four…"

Colonel Zack Van Ryn smiled inwardly as he espied a blonde head next to his. So, SG1 weren’t totally useless when it came to CPR after all."

"Careful Major," he said between breaths, "Check every now and then for a heartbeat. You can just as easily stop a heart as start one."

Her face was strained. "Yes sir."

The steep hill went quiet as they both silently concentrated on their jobs, the body under their hands no longer that of a friend but that of a patient that was relying on them to keep him alive.

Seconds turned into a minute, one into two, and still they toiled away, refusing to give up, until finally they were rewarded with an agonized snort.

"Quickly," Van Ryn muttered. "Turn him on his side." He looked up, including Teal’c in his command. "Hold him still. All he is aware of at this moment is pain, and he is going to struggle."

The Jaffa inclined his head, his large hands pressing down on the squirming form of his friend and brother, watching as the treacherous water that had almost ended his life trickled from slack lips and once more marveled at how such strong life could exist in such puny bodies.

Van Ryn looked up at the attentive Major Carter.

"Major, there is no time to call for help. We need to get him to a hospital right now." He pointed towards the helicopter. "There is a stretcher in there, get it."

She was off like a gazelle, limp forgotten, and Van Ryn’s eyes followed her as a strange thought occurred. He had never noticed how sexy she was before.

Shaking that thought loose, he once more concentrated on O’Neill, aware of his distressed breathing.

"Hang in there, Jack," he shouted. "We’re here. You’ll be okay now," he said, wondering if that would actually be the case.

O’Neill was a classic case of a severe trauma victim, with the added complication of having been drowned. People had died with far less injuries.

He raised his head and stared at the burnt out wreck with hard eyes, noticing the charred skeletons inside, and smiled slightly.

"Score one for the good guys," he murmured, unaware of Teal’c’s slow nod of agreement.

Carter was back, lugging a large stretcher. "Here sir."

They smoothly lifted O’Neill into the stretcher and covered his wet shivering form with a warm blanket.

Then they were off, heading towards Academy General Hospital in a clatter of urgent noise.

…

Doctor Janet Fraiser arrived at Academy General only to see Colonel Van Ryn and Major Carter sitting in hard chairs outside the O.R., their faces strained.

"Colonel?" she asked, puzzled, looking at Van Ryn.

Very few people knew that Colonel Zack Van Ryn was an extremely skilled surgeon, a vocation he had abandoned in order to do his other love, search and rescue with SG5.

The doctors at Academy General, however, well aware of his fame, could never understand why he would abandon such a promising career in order to do something as stupid as deep space radar telemetry, and had begged him to at least help out on occasion.

With General Hammonds permission, he did, realizing that keeping his hand in could only help when it came to finding bruised and broken SG teams offworld.

That was the reason why Janet Fraiser found the fact that he was sitting in the waiting room to be a bit unusual. By rights, he should be in there, working on his friend.

"Zack?" she asked quietly, forgoing his rank just this once.

He looked up at her; his face strained, and held up his hands.

"They won’t let me near him," he said, watching as his fingers trembled badly.

"What happened?" she asked, grasping his hands in hers and sinking into the nearest chair.

"Wait for General Hammond," he said, a tiny bit of the Colonel he was reappearing in his voice.

"I don’t wish to tell this twice."

She nodded patiently. General Hammond and Daniel had been right behind her in their dash to the hospital and were due shortly.

…

The beeping awoke him first, making him wonder where he was for a while.

Ah yes, hospital. It had to be a hospital.

All he wanted to do was sleep, but this eluded him, the mixture of freshly cut grass coupled with sunshine peeking through net curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze chasing away the sleep he craved, leaving behind a kind of deep boned lassitude that only drugs could provide.

Drugs. His eyes widened at that thought, the heart monitor steadily increased its tempo, signaling his agitation to others.

There was something…No, someone had done something to him. Something to do with drugs.

He looked around the room, sleep forgotten, looking for a familiar face, only there was no one to be seen. He was alone, and vulnerable.

Frantic now, he tore at whatever wires he could find, desperate to escape, his body trembling with the effort.

"O’Neill."

Suddenly he was aware of hands pressing him back into bed, gentle brown eyes in a dark face boring into his, communicating serenity without saying a word, and stopped struggling.

"Teal’c?" he asked, his voice a harsh relieved croak. "Teal’c?"

The man nodded. "It is I, O’Neill." He moved to one side as a bevy of nurses and one tiny doctor bustled into the room, their faces concerned.

"Colonel, lie still," she commanded.

The lassitude was back, and he could do nothing else.

"They drugged me," he whispered, watching as she did mysterious things to the machines and then wrote on his chart.

"We know", she said, the sunshine haloing her auburn hair. She reached up towards the IV.

"I want you to sleep now."

He stiffened, his eyes wide, and she felt his terror.

"But I don’t know anymore," he cried, sounding so like her daughter Cassie in the throes of a nightmare that she instinctively sat on the bed and gathered him into her arms.

He was big and bony, a fully-grown man, nevertheless he huddled against her, trembling in fear until the sedative finally took effect.

…

"So what in tarnation happened to my 2IC?’ General Hammond asked two days later, staring around at the personnel sitting at the full briefing table.

"He was kidnapped by the NID, sir," Major Simons said, going first. She shuffled the files in front of her, gathering up her thoughts.

"We have been investigating a Sergeant Mylon for some time now, gathering up enough evidence to convict him under the National Securities act. Unfortunately, our investigations were still underway when he and a certain Lieutenant Salazar decided, with orders from elsewhere, I’m sure, to kidnap Colonel O’Neill."

"In that they succeeded admirably," Hammond grunted, giving her a hard look.

"As far as we can tell from the security monitors, the men struck in the early hours of the morning," Carter said, giving her friend a break. "From the evidence we found, Colonel O’Neill fought valiantly, but was eventually overcome, succumbing to an old trick, chloroform."

"They placed his unconscious body inside a laundry basket," Simons said, "and wheeled him to the surface where he was placed inside the laundry van on its way to Colorado Springs."

"From there on it is all supposition," Daniel said, shuffling his own notes. "Somewhere on the way to ‘ Springs they managed to transfer him into a Chevy Suburban, where they proceeded to inject some sort of drug into his arm."

Colonel Van Ryn nodded. "Thorazine. I have more experience with the drug than Doctor Fraiser has, so she has graciously allowed me to fill you in."

"What is it Colonel?" General Hammond asked.

"It is a very powerful drug used to combat the hyper-energetic phase of manic-depressive illness."

"Pardon?" Hammond said blankly, making Van Ryn smile.

"Amongst other things, it is a muscle relaxant. They injected Colonel O’Neill with the drug, fully aware that had he been conscious, he would have done everything in his power to escape."

"This may be supposition here, but I believe the Colonel did just that, tried to escape," Carter said. "In his struggles he somehow managed to wrest the steering wheel from the drivers hands, causing the car to crash."

"That is a good theory Major, but extremely unlikely," Van Ryn said.

Doctor Fraiser nodded in agreement.

"Sorry Sam," she said, "but I have to agree with Colonel Van Ryn. Colonel O’Neill was given a massive dose, far more than would be legally prescribed, in the hopes that he would be completely docile. This he was."

"Luckily for him," Van Ryn muttered, aware of curious eyes swiveling around to pin him to his chair.

"If he hadn’t been unconscious, if his body hadn’t been completely limp, then that mad tumble down that steep slope would have done worse damage than merely break his legs," he clarified.

"So what happened then?" Hammond asked. "How in the blue blazes did that car end up as a burnt out wreck in the middle of a stream?"

Van Ryn shook his head. "We may never know that, sir," he said. "What I do know is this. If anyone ever gives Colonel O’Neill Thorazine again, he will die."

"Explain," Hammond demanded, looking puzzled.

"He is extremely allergic to it," Doctor Fraiser said. "So much so, we immediately engraved it on his dog tags, just in case it ever happens again."

She shook her head sadly. "Those stupid idiots, whoever they are, hadn’t a clue. Had they continued along that road for another hour, Colonel O’Neill would have died.

Van Ryn turned his light blue eyes on Carter.

"That is the reason why we found Colonel O’Neill face down in the stream. He wasn’t trying to drown himself, but was extremely dehydrated, his system needing more water in order to fight against what was killing him."

"But he did drown," Carter said.

"So he did," van Ryn said with a smile. "In six inches of water, at that. Only Jack O’Neill could be that unlucky."

"So now what?" Hammond asked impatiently.

"Now we open an attempted murder docket," Major Simons said softly. "Hopefully the gravity of the situation will persuade someone somewhere to talk."

"Fat chance," Daniel muttered.

"And I will proceed to monitor Colonel O’Neill’s condition closely," Fraiser said. "He is improving every day, but is still prone to hallucinogenic fits and extreme paranoia."

"Dear God," Hammond muttered.

"There is one advantage to all this," Fraiser said with a small smile.

"What’s that?" Hammond asked, shocked.

"Colonel O’Neill’s brain registers absolutely normal, in every way."

Daniel sat upright. "You’re kidding."

She shook her head. "No I’m not. Whatever it was, it departed from him as quickly as it arrived."

"Maybe it was the water after all," Van Ryn mused. "I know that Washington gave the water the all clear, but maybe…"

"And he almost drowned in earth based water," Carter said, giving Van Ryn a warm smile. "Maybe that was all it took."

"Or maybe we’ll never know," General Hammond said, shutting his file with a snap, signifying the end to the meeting. "All in all, I’ll be pleased to finally see the end of this sorry mess."

…

"I survived that?"

Jack O'Neill stared down the steep slope at the distant wreck with a sense of unreality.

"I don't remember this at all."

"Janet says that isn't surprising," Carter said, giving him a sympathetic smile." You were really out of it at the time."

"I'm still out of it," he muttered, hunching down miserably in the wheelchair Academy General had supplied on his release.

"You'll get better," Carter said, refusing to be drawn.

She pointed to the distant car. "Those people died. You were in the same car as they, yet somehow, you survived, and that's despite being injected with a drug that was slowly killing you.

"Sheer luck," he said, his fingers idly reaching for his dog tags with their new shiny section.

"Maybe," she said, leaning against the jeep that they had used to bring them to this desolate place.

"Or maybe not." She closed her eyes and breathed in the unpolluted scents of a mountainside in the depths of summer." Maybe you weren't fated to die here."

"There are worse places to die, believe you me," he muttered, unbending slightly.

He slowly maneuvered the wheelchair to the very edge of the precipice, to where thick black tire tracks led into nothingness.

"I don't remember a thing, but that's not the worst of it," he said softly. "It’s more than me not remembering anything," he said. "It's also the fact that they stole something from me as well."

"Is that really so bad?" Carter asked, sitting next to him, just to one side of the evidence of Jack O'Neill's near death. "If you could still see the future, you would be the most sought after human in the world. The Gou'ald would be the least of your problems."

He gave her a small smile, the first smile she had seen on his gaunt face since he had been released from the hospital.

"Maybe," he said.

For a while they were silent, his eyes following the path of a black bird as it wheeled far up in the sky.

"You know, it's funny," he said eventually. "I could predict almost anything, but when it came to myself..." his voice trailed off.

"Maybe that is the reason why all the seers died off," she said. "Maybe they could forecast everyone's destiny apart from their own."

He sighed, a sigh from deep in his soul, releasing some of the pent up tension that had been festering since he had finally awoken.

"Maybe you're right," he said wryly. "In a way it is a blessing. There is no way I could have gone through the gate a done my job knowing I was always a target."

"There you go," Carter said spring to her feet. "See, it's not so bad after all."

His smile was warmer, some of the old Jack O'Neill coming through at last, for the first time in weeks.

"Take me home, Samantha Carter," he said softly.

Her smile was impish. "I would, but my landlady might object."

...

The tall man stared down at the parking lot, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Do you believe them?" he asked, his voice deadly.

"Not for a moment." The General looked up from the desk, where he had been perusing some papers and laid down his gold pen.

"A fatal allergy to thorazine? Please, couldn't they have thought up something a bit more believable?"

The senator smiled thinly and raised a finger to the glass, crushing a hapless spider found there.

"We're not finished yet," he hissed.

"You hear me, Colonel Jack O'Neill? We are a long way from being finished with you yet."

EINDE