A Life For A Life

Jonas would remember that moment for years afterwards, standing in the cool of the library with the scent of scrolls. That second was inscribed in his memories, indelible. The moment of mingled horror and terror and tension before dusty, papery scents were overcome with the wet smell of bronzy blood spilled, and peace and quiet was shattered in that place, never to return.

It marked a turning point in his view of events at the SGC - no less momentous than the day he came through the Stargate to Earth.

The day had begun in sunlight and chatter, emerging into Aegept - his first time here.

"Welcome to Aegept, Jonas," Liz Vega smirked at him as she passed him, standing fascinated at the base of the Stargate stairs. "Enjoy the experience."

The Stargate to Aegept overlooked the long gardens of the palace, flooded with the mid-afternoon sun. Workers were industriously gardening away, although Jonas saw the heads come up as the rest of his team and Daniel's came down the stairs. Beyond the gardens loomed the palace, the style of the bright stone facings reminiscent of ancient Earth structures.

There was no hint of what lurked beneath the surface then, no sign that the Aegeptans were anything but cordially delighted to have not only SG-1, but SG-15 as well.

"I think you'll like Aegept," Daniel came up alongside him as the teams started tramping down the raked gravel path to the palace and the people who were approaching them in what looked vaguely like Grecian and Roman garb. "The marketplace is quite fascinating, they're like the middle Eastern marketplaces of ancient times. They weren't just places for bartering and exchanging, they were like...the local philosophy club, and the place where all major business transactions were agreed upon..."

"Daniel," Colonel O'Neill called over his team-mate's voice, "Can you leave the history lecture until later?"

"No-one said you had to listen."

"No-one said you had to lecture, either," the Colonel retorted. Still, if Jonas was any judge of character, the Colonel wasn't irritated - just not in the mood to listen to Daniel talking about the background culture.

Jonas grinned and set himself to looking around the place.

Since Daniel had made that first overture of politeness, the two men had become friends, of a sort. They had similar interests, even if they came from different backgrounds. And Jonas was fascinated by everything Daniel had experienced in his life; from his childhood on archaeological digs to fostering out to the world of academics to the mission to Abydos and the year on that planet.

To someone brought up in the cities of Kelowna, the broad variety of Daniel's life was amazing and enviable. To someone whose line of study was people and history, the small oddities of Kelownan life from American life were fascinating and attractive.

And they had a lot of things in common. Their perspective on the universe and how they fit into it. Their love of study and research and learning. And their ability to bounce ideas off others like rubber balls.

Colonel O'Neill refused to talk with the two of them. He complained that it was bad enough listening to Daniel and Major Carter and he wasn't about to add Jonas to the list of people he didn't understand. Colonel Adamson was just a little more understanding, although his eyes could glaze over in mere seconds once Jonas started bouncing ideas with another of his team-mates.

And here came their greeting party - a dozen men and women of different shapes, sizes, and years, their eyes intent, their smiles broad.

"Welcome! Welcome to Aegept! I am the Speaker of the Republic!" The Speaker was a portly man of middle years, effusive and enthusiastic. "Jaffa Teal'c! Colonel O'Neill! Major Carter! Dr. Jackson!" He spoke in sharp, excited bursts, as if his conversation were a bunch of exclamation marks grouped together and punctuated by words. "We are delighted to have you return to our planet! I am Speaker Sonan! And your friends! Colonel Adassen, is it?"

"Adamson," the Colonel corrected him with an easy smile.

"So sorry! So sorry! Colonel Adamson. And your companions...I remember madam, and, yes, of course I remember sir..." The bright beady eyes rested on Jonas. "But you have someone new. The young man who came with you last time is not here..."

Was it just Jonas' imagination or was there a slight tensing among the group? "The young man who arrived with us is dead," the Colonel informed Speaker Sonan gravely. "Jonas Quinn here has joined Captain Vang, Lieutenant Vega, and myself on the team."

Jonas relaxed a little. He knew - intellectually - that he'd been forgiven for his involvement in the cover-up regarding Lieutenant Rumlow's death, but sometimes he wondered if he really was forgiven and accepted.

In the meantime, he paid his own penance for what had happened and tried to make amend. It was all he could do, and sometimes he felt it was little enough.

"Wonderful! Delighted to have you here! There shall be much rejoicing - the Heroes of Aegept!"

Daniel leaned over to Jonas, "You're going to be really tired of that phrase by the time we leave here. Trust me."

Jonas grinned, involuntarily.

"So, why'd you call us here, anyway?" That was Colonel O'Neill, of course; direct and to the point, no beating about the bush.

The Speaker blinked. "A celebratory feast, of course!"

"You put on a feast for us last time," the Colonel pointed out, inexorably. "Why the repeat?"

Jonas later wondered if they should have suspected something was strange at that point. At the time, he just thought that the Colonel was taking out what Daniel called 'a mood' on the hapless Aegeptans.

Another woman stepped smoothly into the breach, her voice rich and smooth as she explained, "We have made discoveries about our history that we wished for you to see. Your extensive knowledge of the world beyond the Stargates would assist us in greater understanding of them."

"But that doesn't require all of us to be here." Colonel O'Neill was definitely edgy.

Beside Jonas, Daniel looked as thought he wanted to reach out and smack the Colonel. Major Carter's expression was carefully neutral - as was Teal'c's, and most of SG-15 were looking as though they'd rather be elsewhere. Only Colonel Adamson looked as though he was in any mood to understand the Colonel's temper at this moment.

"Colonel O'Neill, we understand that your time is valuable. This will be only a short visit - this afternoon and this evening. We revere your people and your knowledge - the opportunity to bring you all back here could not be resisted." The woman looked intently around the party. "We apologise for interrupting your day, Colonel, and hope that you will endure our zeal just for this day and evening."

Colonel O'Neill was the nominal leader of the two teams, outranking Colonel Adamson in the final decisions regarding this mission. If he said, 'Let's pack it in,' then they would pack it in. Although it was expected that he would consult the people under his care, his authority was given and their obedience was required. Jonas understood that much of the authority structures in the SGC.

The Colonel looked at Colonel Adamson, then to Major Carter and Teal'c. He glanced back at the Stargate, somewhat longingly, and shrugged. "I guess we can manage a day and an evening," he said.

Seven people breathed slightly easier as the pronouncement left his lips, and Major Carter's mouth twisted very faintly. Jonas wondered at that, but was given no chance to ask even if asking were polite.

Instead, the Speaker indicated the palace before them. "Please, come inside."

*

Something wasn't quite right.

He could feel it in his bones, as the old sayings went. It had caused his reluctance to stay on the planet, especially after they'd come up with such a flimsy explanation for the requirement of SG-1 and SG-15's presence on the planet. Discoveries, his ass. They didn't need two SG-teams for that. And as for celebrations... Well, they'd had their turn at celebrating the last time SG-1 turned up on the planet, what did they need another one for?

Jack sat at the table, absently listening to one of the Counsellors droning on about the importance of the SGC teams' presences at this ceremony. He knew that he looked alert and aware of the speech being made, but in truth his mind had long ago started trying to catalogue what was bothering him about this place.

It was like a fingernail was being run down his mental blackboard, slowly raising his hackles.

This dissonance hadn't been present the last time they were here. In spite of everything that had been going on in his personal life, the turmoil he'd felt at the revelation of Carter's relationship with Adamson, there had been nothing like this odd sense that something was happening that Jack didn't know about.

He glanced around the group, looking for any indications that someone else was feeling the same uneasiness, and caught Adamson's eye.

Things had been uncomfortable between him and Adamson for a while now. They got on, there was no alpha-male posturing or anything stupid like that. Still, Jack felt uncomfortable in the knowledge that Adamson knew there was some kind of connection between him and Carter, and Adamson apparently felt uncomfortable knowing such a thing. Jack had seen the glances he got from time to time - usually when he dropped by Carter's lab and Adamson was already there, or vice versa.

To say he wasn't pleased at having Adamson put in his command for this mission was putting it lightly. Of course, Hammond knew of Jack's discomfort with Adamson - George was far too astute a leader not to see what was plainly before his eyes. In the post-briefing talk with Jack, the General had subtly but firmly made it clear that he expected Jack to behave with absolute propriety, personal differences aside.

Jack wouldn't have worked it any other way.

Of course, that didn't mean he was particularly happy about this command. And maybe that had come through a little when the Aegeptans didn't seem to have a very clear picture of why SG-1 and SG-15 had been called here.

Jack leaned back in his chair, and arched his brows a little in question to the Lieutenant Colonel, who gave him a half-smile and looked back at the speaking Councillor. No help there.

A quick glance at Teal'c, sitting beside him, showed that the big guy didn't seem to be feeling anything unusual - although it was hard to tell with Teal'c.

Maybe it was just him.

But his instincts were rarely wrong.

His gaze flickered over the delegates at the table, noting the expressions on each, their intensity, the way they sat and the tension in their shoulders. His team - his teams - seemed at ease, even Jonas, who'd been looking decidedly uncomfortable as they were hailed as the 'Heroes of Aegept'. Captain Vang was twiddling his thumbs, Daniel was writing notes and bobbing his head, his glasses had slid down to perch on the tip of his nose and he periodically pushed them up again. Lieutenant Vega had the glassy-eyed look of someone who was trying to listen and failing, but Carter looked like she was soaking up every word.

There was no reason for him to feel...cornered. They were sitting in a large, open room with multiple exits and a large balcony space with a garden and pond below. Four guards were stationed around the room, their clothing looked ceremonial in it's rich colours and heavy style, but the weapons looked wicked. No match for P-90s, of course, but it wasn't always about weapons against weapons.

Something was going on. The delegates looked as if they were waiting. Waiting for what?

Jack had no idea, and he hated it.

He'd have to make sure he talked to Teal'c, Carter, and Adamson about it. At least. He wasn't too sure about Vang and Vega - he hadn't had any occasion to work with them before, but Adamson would have an idea.

The Councillor took a deep breath and was about to launch into a description of the evening's festivities. Jack decided enough was enough.

He coughed. Loudly. "Excuse me? Councillor? My people are only here for a couple hours so shouldn't we be looking at the things you want us to look at? I mean, the evening's festivities sound great - don't get me wrong, I'm really looking forward to...quaffing the wine and eating until I can't eat any more - all that stuff." A few seats away, Daniel was attempting to clear his throat to interrupt. Jack didn't give him a chance. "But you had some translations you wanted Daniel to do, and I think the Major here wanted to have a look at the hydraulics of that water fountain or something?" He turned to Carter and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, something anyway."

The Councillors looked momentarily uncomfortable before the Speaker stood. "Of course, of course!" he said. "We are most sorry to have taken up your time..."

Jack held up his hands and the little man ceased burbling. "Just...what is it that you want from us?" He saw Daniel put his head in his hands and felt a quick flash of irritation. "Apart from us attending this celebration thingy tonight."

Now it was the Speaker's turn to be disconcerted and one of the women spoke from her chair. Her voice was rich and smooth and the expression on her face was serene as she looked at Jack. "The celebration is the primary reason for your presence here, however, as the Speaker said earlier, we have discovered previously-unknown facets of our culture and would appreciate Dr. Jackson's input on them. If your people have other things that interest them, they may wish to be shown them now."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we would appreciate the time to discuss the matter of trade negotiations for items that your people can provide." A tiny smile appeared at the corner of her mouth, "Not exactly the most thrilling conversation for you, Colonel O'Neill, but consider it a necessary evil."

He could almost hear the thoughts of his team as they watched his response to the offer. His team, not SG-15. The sharp citrus of Daniel's exasperation, the mellow honey of Carter's amusement, the deep chocolate of Teal'c's acceptance - flavours familiar to him as his own impatience with this kind of politicking. "That sounds okay to me."

"If Dr. Jackson would like to go...?"

"Take Jonas with you," Jack added.

"Lieutenant," Adamson said, turning to Vega, "Why don't you go with them?"

Good man. Sending Vega with them would mean that there was a military-trained person with Daniel and Jonas. Just in case his thumb-pricking was correct.

"Thanks, sir." Vega was out of her seat faster than Jack could have imagined possible. Evidently the Lieutenant had been as enamoured of the conversation as Jack.

At least she was getting out of it.

One of the delegates rose, a man whose hair was long and braided at the temples, "I will take you to the library to see the books most recently discovered..."

As they stood, Jack looked around the table, "Anyone else?"

"Actually, sir, Captain Vang and I have several questions to ask the philosophers and engineers of the culture," Carter piped up.

He should have known.

Jack turned to the Aegeptan leaders. "Do you have someone around who can answer their questions? I should warn you that they'll probably be fairly involved questions. Carter never asks the easy ones." He shot her a grin and waited for the responding one, only too aware of her fiance sitting two seats away from him.

"You're too kind, sir," she responded, her tone of voice dry, but her smile warm.

One of the Counsellors had been leaning over to speak with another, and the woman resumed her position at the table as Carter spoke. "I believe that several of our engineers would welcome the chance to speak with you. We understand that you have some knowledge of the technology of the Goa'uld. While our people have been working to comprehend the possible uses of this technology in our new culture, there are some things we have not been able to determine. Much knowledge was lost with the overthrow of the Goa'uld and we would reclaim what we can."

She glanced at Jack and gave a half-smile. "Sir?"

He waved at her to go. "Go on then. Captain, did you want to go too?"

"Yes, sir."

Jack shrugged. "Okay. Try not to break anything."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Colonel." And with a quick smile at Teal'c and Adamson, Carter followed the delegates out, Captain Vang trotting after them with his odd, puppy-like gait.

Adamson shrugged, his mouth set in a rueful twist as they left and he moved over to sit on the other side of Teal'c. "Guess it's just us to hammer out these trade agreements."

"Heaven help the planet," Jack muttered, then glanced up at Adamson, suddenly realising that it wasn't just Jack's own team here. "Sorry, Adamson."

Adamson smiled, not taking offense to Jack's assumption of his negotiating skills. "Exactly what things did you wish to trade, Councillor?"

"I understand that your people have a great desire for minerals and metals in their natural states? We have many sources for such things - more than our civilisation requires. Cronos frequently used them as goods for trading with other System Lords for the materials he needed but which his empire did not produce."

They exchanged looks and went for the diplomatic option. "It sounds like a good idea," Jack told them. "We'll have your people talk to our people..."

The expressions of the councillors indicated quite clearly that 'their people' talking to 'his people' wasn't going to do the trick.

Jack sighed and sat up. He really wanted to snoop around a little, work out what was nagging him about this place and these people. He didn't want to talk.

Unfortunately, it seemed that their hosts did. And since the SGC personnel were guests here...

Maybe if he talked enough, he'd work out what was bothering him.

He glanced at Adamson, who shrugged a little and began asking questions about what the Aegepteans wanted of them.

And Jack's neck prickled.

*

"So where were these found?" Jonas asked as Daniel peeled back the covers of the ancient texts, wondering at the fine sheets of parchment in their shrouds of dust. He squinted and angled his head to get the best light from the windows. The writing was unmistakeably Goa'uld, but crabbed and very old.

"They were found in some old storerooms of the palace," said Lusia, the librarian who'd been assigned to them. Rather surprisingly - at least to Daniel - she was female. While the Greeks had been less rigidly patriarchal than other cultures, it was still highly unusual to find women working in positions of educational authority. From most of what SG-1 had seen through the years, patriarchies were much more common than matriarchies - although several Indian-based cultures had developed more matriarchally-oriented societies. "Since your last visit, we have been going through the Palace, searching out what Cronos hid from our people and bringing it out." She beamed excitedly, "It is a great honour to be discovering our history here."

Daniel gave her a quick smile and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "So, do you have any ideas on how old these texts are?"

"I have not learned the Goa'uld writings," Lusia said apologetically. "Not well. But from what I heard tell, they dated back a thousand years to when Cronos first set this planet up as his headquarters."

"They're holding up well for a thousand years," Daniel noted, impressed. Parchment and paper didn't usually hold this well over time, rotting too swiftly in more tropical climates. The dry air of the surrounding savannah-like terrain had probably helped preserve the books. He turned the pages over, his eyes skimming over characters both familiar and unfamiliar.

On the other side of the table, Jonas was doing the same, but slower. The Kelownan's perfect memory had come in very useful to him in earning him the respect of his team-mates - and others through the SGC. It had even come in useful to Daniel from time to time when he couldn't remember where he'd seen something before.

Since the incident on the mothership and his conversation with Grant Adamson in the mess room of the submarine, Daniel had spent a bit of time getting to know Jonas. As it turned out, they got on quite well - rather in the manner that Daniel got along with Sam - her science balanced out against his own archaeology, frequently reaching the same conclusions through different disciplines.

Like Sam, Jonas was quite a calm personality. Not as controlled as Sam, but soothing.

On the other hand, Lieutenant Vega was wandering around whistling to herself. Daniel hadn't worked much with Vega as yet. She was military and on a separate team, so their paths rarely crossed.

Accustomed to the comfortable silences of SG-1, the whistling was getting on Daniel's nerves. After the third rendition of a tune he didn't know and which seemed to change subtly each time, Daniel was rapidly descending into an irritated frame of mind. "Uh, Vega, do you mind...uh...not whistling?"

"Not whistling?"

"It's annoying." He tried to keep his voice level, and wasn't sure if he succeeded - especially when Jonas looked up.

"Oh. Okay." She wandered around the room, quite evidently bored, until Lusia began engaging her in conversation. Daniel quietly sighed and went back to browsing through the book.

He wasn't quite sure what the book was about - it seemed to be a bunch of prophecies. Certainly the language was mystic. "'We are the ones who walk unseen. We are unknown by man and god alike. Of man, yet with the very nature of the gods in us...'" He read aloud, shaking his head.

"Sounds like something biblical," Jonas commented, still turning through the pages. Then he frowned. "Did you say something about walking unseen?"

"Yes."

"I just saw a note about walking unseen..." Jonas began flipping back through his book, "I thought it was 'walking blindly', but I think I could have the verb structure wrong. High Goa'uld runs differently how it's read to how it's written, doesn't it?"

Daniel nodded, intrigued anew by the other man's perfect memory. What Daniel had taken years to learn, Jonas had taken months to memorise. He felt rather envious of the ability - however random the gift.

An exclamation drew him back to the matter at hand. "Ah! Here it is:

Unseen we walk,
A thousand years we live,
And someday we shall reclaim our destiny."

Daniel frowned. That sounds familiar...

"That's inscribed on the water-fountain down in the marketplace." He remembered a sunny day in the city and a talk by Jack and Teal'c about war. The inscription seemed odd at the time, but Daniel hadn't given too much time to pondering over the meaning of the words - there were so many other things at which to look and the inscription was too cryptic to puzzle over.

"Did Cronos have it put there?"

"I don't know," he answered, absently browsing through the text in his book. "It's not what I'd expect from Cronos."

"It is a little cryptic for the Goa'uld." Another page was gently turned over. "But the 'walking unseen' thing is odd. I know that Nirrti possesses stealth technology that enables her to become invisible, but I was under the impression that this was a recent development - the last few years, not thousands of years ago..."

A thought teased at the edges of Daniel's consciousness, the briefest glimpse of something that had registered with his unconscious mind, but eluded his conscious thought process. "Walking unseen..." he muttered to himself. "Of gods and men and monsters..."

"What's the 'of man but in very nature gods,' thing?" Jonas asked. "The gods are the Goa'uld, but what about the 'of man' bit?"

It was flirting around the edges of his perception, like a flamenco dancer who danced in the shadows out of the spotlight, her long, flounced skirts teasing the white circle of vision. "Of man and gods..." Daniel muttered. "Walking unseen..."

For some reason, his mind suddenly threw up Robert Rothman at him.

It hit him like the force of a punch and he could barely get the word out of his mouth.

"Goa'uld."

Both Jonas and Vega looked at him, startled by the non-sequitur. Lusia seemed to have vanished. Daniel tried to explain as understanding poured into his brain like water into a glass.

"On P3X-888, we discovered Goa'uld that didn't possess any naquadah in their blood. Although we speculated why, we never actually found out why it was so. But the Goa'uld there couldn't be detected by people with naquadah in their bloodstream like Sam or Teal'c. They were 'invisible' to the Goa'uld. And humans never know if a Goa'uld is occupying someone right next to them until the Goa'uld gives itself away." Daniel had first-hand experience of that, Sarah's beautiful, austere face rising up before his eyes.

"'Unknown by man and god alike,'" Jonas said softly. "'Of man, but with the very nature of gods in us...' So there are non-naquadah Goa'uld on the planet?"

"I think so." He frowned, trying to see if anything had seemed out of place. "Vega, do you remember anything odd from your last visit?"

"'Odd' as in...?"

Daniel threw his hands up, "I don't know. Sideways glances, stares, any resentment from the leaders or the people who were around you. Odd behaviour, something that confused you, however briefly..."

She thought it over, worrying at her lower lip. "Not really. I was mostly enjoying the experience. I did think that they were very eager to meet us - almost too eager. I just figured it was the whole 'heroes of Aegept' and hero-worship thing coming into play."

"They were certainly eager enough to see us this morning," Jonas mused. "The Speaker was very talkative..."

"But the rest were very quiet." Daniel said.

"Observing us. For weaknesses." Vega suddenly changed. The transformation was subtle, but startling - from a mildly-bored woman to an alert, suspicious soldier.

"You think so?"

"They were very insistant that we be here - as many of us as possible. But they haven't explained why."

"For the celebration," Jonas said.

"That's what they said," Vega replied, her cynicism obvious. "I didn't see a lot of preparation happening for a celebration."

Now that he thought about it, Daniel hadn't either. "The last time we were here, six months ago, there were preparations going on everywhere. You couldn't walk through the halls without falling over someone trying to get something done for the celebration."

"Maybe they've toned it down."

Daniel looked at the possibility then rejected it, thinking of the 'triumphal entry' into the palace. "Somehow, I don't think so."

They all looked at each other, thinking the same thoughts. We make very good hostages - or prizes of war.

Then something rippled across Vega's face and Daniel took a second too long to identify it. And when he did her gun was already out and pointed at him. "Shit. For all I know, you guys could be..."

"No! No, wait!" Jonas waved his hands at her. "We haven't been separated from each other since we came through the Stargate - if we had been then you'd have cause for suspicion. And it wouldn't do them any good for us to be speculating about whether the Goa'uld are here. However..." He trailed off.

"However, the separation of us from the others would have given them the chance to implant the others with symbiotes," Daniel finished grimly. "Or us..."

They glanced around, suddenly aware of their prone position, but the library appeared deserted. "So what do we do now?" Jonas asked, lowering his voice.

"We can't call the others, because they might have already been compromised," Vega said.

"And we don't know who from the Aegeptans is Goa'uld either." Daniel removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "But we can't leave the others behind, compromised or not..."

"The SGC needs to be told." Jonas spoke with sudden resolve. "Over and above everything else." He caught the glance Daniel gave him and met it with equanimity. "I know that your concern is for your friends, Daniel, but the SGC is a point of Stargate contact for not only this world but many others. If it - and Earth - fell into the control of the Goa'uld - even the non-naquadah Goa'uld..."

"The non-naquadah Goa'uld aren't any better than the naquadah Goa'uld," Daniel said, remembering his team's personal report of Rothman's death. "The drive for power and dominion still runs in them."

"The SGC needs to know," Vega said, instantly. "That's our first priority - above everything else, even rescuing our team-mates."

Daniel shook his head. There was no way he was leaving this planet without his friends. It would be a betrayal of the worst kind.

"Dr. Jackson, someone needs to take the news back to the SGC - two people need to take it back so they can vouch for each other. That'll be you and Jonas. The others will need to be told - assuming they don't already know because of the snake in their heads."

"I'm not leaving without the others." Daniel had always been accused of being stubborn - from his parents' amused teasing of a five-year-old boy, to the grumbles of his foster-parents, to the head shaking of his old professor and academic peers, to Jack's annoyance with him. He'd earned the right to be stubborn. "You and Jonas take the news back to the SGC..."

"No can do, Dr. Jackson," Vega shook her head and her dark ponytail swung from side to side. "I'm the military personnel here, I'm better equipped to extract the others."

"No."

"Dammit, Jackson..."

"It's not practical, Daniel."

Daniel glared at Jonas, too angry at the prospect of leaving his team behind to think about what he was saying. "Was it practical to lie about what happened to Rumlow, then?"

He knew the words were wrong the instant they left his mouth, grasping futilely after what could not be taken back.

Jonas stiffened, and the distance between them suddenly widened to a chasm.

Tactful, Dr. Jackson, real tactful.

"Jesus, Jackson," Vega snapped, something like revulsion crossing her face. "You sure know how to aim for the gut." Anything else she was about to say was forestalled by Jonas' interjection.

"This is no longer a diplomatic situation, Daniel." He spoke quietly, but the hurt from Daniel's accusation was evident in his face. His voice was a little quicker and softer - almost breathless, as if the slam had winded him - but he kept to the point. "You and me, we're not the military cogs in this machine. That doesn't mean we don't do what's needed, but it means leaving the job to the people who can do it better. Lieutenant Vega is better suited to locating the others and getting them out. And," Jonas continued doggedly, "If it comes down to the Goa'uld taking us, they already have all the military minds of the team in one place. One more won't make a difference. But you have a lot more than military knowledge in you - knowledge that the Goa'uld would love to get their hands on."

There were no accusation in Jonas' words or voice, merely a calm focus on the most important point at this moment: getting the news back to the SGC. And Daniel hated him for that. So rational. So calculated. So calm and together.

Or maybe the other man was just blocking it out, concentrating on a single objective and going for it.

No different to what Daniel had done at other times.

Sometimes, Daniel, you can be a selfish bastard. The words were Jack's - the only one of Daniel's team who was blunt enough to say such a thing. And, before you say it; I know, it takes one to know one.

Something in him wanted to whine that this wasn't selfishness - this was selflessness. But even he couldn't level it that way. Sure, he would be saving a handful of people, but the potential cost to Earth if the Goa'uld got hold of one more hostage...

And then Daniel realised that the hostage didn't have to be him. It could just as well be Jonas. Jonas with his perfect memory and his extensive knowledge - not only about Earth and the Goa'uld, but also about the naquadria technology the SGC had been working on with his help. Daniel wasn't the only valuable one.

"All right," he said. "We'll head back to the SGC." His lips tightened, "If nothing else we can get reinforcements."

Vega nodded. "Good thinking, Dr. Jackson." That was probably as close to a 'thanks' as he was going to get from the Lieutenant, and Daniel gave a brief, tight smile. "What percentage of the population do you think is...infected?"

"It wouldn't be many," Jonas murmured.

"Generally, the Goa'uld don't like too many other Goa'uld around - too many rivals," Daniel said, thinking of the System Lords' feast on the space station. "I don't know exactly who, but I'd guess that most of our hosts are. They might have one or two among the guards..." His brain suddenly started to take in the enormity of getting out of the palace and back to the Stargate. "This is going to be tricky."

"Tricky or not, you'd better hurry," Vega said. "The faster you get to the gate and warn Earth, the less time the rest of us will have to be nervous."

"You're coming with us - at least as far as the corridor," Jonas told her. "If we stick together, there's a better chance of us all staying human."

"Are you leaving us?" The voice spoke up at Daniel's elbow, startling them all.

"Uh, yes," Jonas said, unable to hide his nervousness as he looked from Daniel to Vega to Lusia. "It seems..."

"It seems that you have discovered the truth," said the librarian in a totally different voice. Out of the shadows glided two more people, both holding urns before them.

Daniel swallowed hard.

Then gaped as blood flowered down Lusia's front.

Jonas ducked as Vega swung her P-90 around and took the two other Goa'uld in the throat with a single, perfect shot each. As if in slow motion, Daniel watched the Goa'uld hosts tumble down, limp marionettes, and he reached for Jonas, even as the bases of the urns hit the stone floor and shattered the clay, bursting water from their porcelain confinement.

Beneath his hands, the weave of the cloth was rough and unyielding as he yanked Jonas away from the squealing symbiotes writhing about in the shards of porcelain. We were to be Goa'uld hosts...like Ska'ara. Like Sha're. Daniel felt a sudden need to be violently sick. He wasn't given the opportunity as Vega took Jonas' other arm and hauled him up, mercilessly.

"That game's up, anyway," she said with cool detachment, although she looked waxen pale. The instant Jonas had his feet under him, Vega headed for the exit, automatically assuming that the other two would follow behind her. "You're going back to the SGC this instant. They need to be warned about it. Go through to the SGC, shut the iris and lock out our codes. Send a team to Cimmeria, we'll convene there - Thor's Hammer will remove any symbiotes we possess."

She was walking so fast, they could barely keep up with her, and her voice was incisive and calm. Daniel looked at Jonas, who met his gaze for an instant and shrugged. Either he was used to Vega's determination, or he didn't have any ideas and was willing to go with her plan.

Then Vega stopped walking, just shy of the end of the aisle. She turned to Daniel and waved her finger under his nose, "Dr. Jackson, if I see your face after we part company, I swear by all that I hold holy, I will shoot you through the head for endangering Earth and being a stubborn ass."

Daniel had a moment to feel outrage before the Lieutenant turned on her heel and walked on, ignoring his, "Now, wait a minute..." Beside him, Jonas gave him a single, unfathomable glance and followed her.

It wasn't like Daniel was really being given an option to stay behind.

God, he hoped that the others were okay. Teal'c would be trustworthy at least - he wasn't a viable host as long as he had the primta - but the rest of the group were vulnerable.

And he had to trust that Vega could get them free.

"Are you sure you can do it by yourself?" He asked as they reached the end of the aisle of books and scrolls.

She glanced back at him. "I won't be doing it by myself. Once I get to the others, I'll have them."

"And if they're already Goa'uld?"

"Then it'll be too late for all of us." Another glance over her shoulder. "But it won't be too late for Earth if you and Jonas get through to the SGC to warn them." She looked at Jonas and nodded ever so slightly - an exchange that intrigued Daniel.

He didn't have time to follow up on it, however, since Jonas headed for the door, pushing it open a crack, and pulling out his zat.

Daniel pulled out his gun as Jonas peered into the marble-paved corridor outside.

Vega plucked at his sleeve, "If you get yourselves killed, Dr. Jackson, Earth is left defenceless. You may not have any of your loved ones still on Earth, but some of us do." Her eyes bored into him. "Don't you dare fail."

There was a passion there, an anger and a fear that surprised him with its intensity. As she let go of his sleeve, Daniel realised that, hard as it was for him to leave her to get the others, it was as hard - if not harder - for her to leave him to get the job done.

It struck him that saving the planet was a fairly impersonal proposition when the people you cared about most were saving it right along with you.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "If you get them, don't take them home. Once we're through, we'll disable your codes. Go to Cimmeria and we'll pick you up there."

"If we're not at Cimmeria, then tell Hammond to order the SGC to shoot us on sight," Vega said with quiet intensity.

As Vega would do her best to save the people Daniel most cared about, so Daniel would do the same for her. They neither of them liked it, but they knew their responsibility.

Jonas was glancing back at them, curious about their exchange. Daniel indicated the corridor. "Are we clear?"

"We're clear." The pale eyes travelled to Vega, "Good luck."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "You, too."

And then Jonas opened the door and they were out into the corridor.

They took the first few corridors without trouble. They got some wide-eyed glances from a couple of people who looked like servants, and whom Daniel hoped were actually servants. They had no way of telling who was friend and who was foe, so, technically, everyone had to be foe.

But Daniel wasn't ready to start a bloodbath in the palace. Not yet.

Jonas glanced quizzically at him as the men went past, their heads carefully lowered in a gesture of respect and subservience towards the guests. The question was plain enough. Goa'uld? Daniel shook his head, although it was nothing more than a guess. It was most likely that there would only be a handful of Goa'uld on the planet, and they would be in the highest positions - the Councillors of the Republic

"Do you know where we're going?" Daniel asked when Jonas took the lead without asking for his opinion.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"We can't go back the way we came," Jonas said, moving with swift, sure steps. "But I remember seeing some stairs that came around the side of the palace, and judging by the architecture of the corridors we were led along before..." They turned into a porticoed colonnade and Jonas crossed over to the balcony and peered over the side as Daniel stepped out of the way of a servant who blinked at them curiously, then ducked her head.

So far so good.

The only question was whether the servant would go off and report it to one of her masters.

"The Stargate's in the garden below," Jonas pointed in the relevant direction, and Daniel took one step towards the balcony to see for himself.

He heard the sizzle of a staff weapon discharging its load a mere moment before he felt the burning, searing heat that fried the nerve endings in his left arm. A hiss of pain escaped his lips, but even as he sank down to the floor, he had his gun out in his good hand. It was the effort of a moment to sight along the barrel. Two bullets later, the man who'd shot him was on the floor in a pool of blood - and his arm was in raw agony.

Jonas was already under his good arm, helping him up. "Good shot." The blue-grey gaze flickered over to the curling, bleeding edges of the raw, red burn and he grimaced. "Are you..."

"I'm okay," Daniel answered the question. He ignored the fiery pain pulsing through his shoulder and arm in time with his heartbeat. There were more important things than stopping to bandage his arm. The shots in the corridors would carry loudly. Within a few seconds this place would be crawling with servants - and with the servants would come their masters. "How far is it to the Stargate?"

"About three hundred yards from the palace." Jonas helped him to his feet, grimacing as Daniel gasped. "Sorry."

Daniel dug his fingers into the other man's shoulders, "Don't apologise. We have to keep moving. Which way out?"

There were voices coming along the corridor - they were out of time. Jonas grabbed Daniel's sleeve and ran for it. Their shod feet pounded along the tiled balcony. They passed the dead servant. They skidded around the next corner, nearly bumping into two more servants. Daniel reached for his gun, but Jonas had already pulled him past and zatted both Aegeptans with a single shot.

They went down like felled logs, limbs twitching as the excess electricity overloaded their synapses.

At the next alcove, they jogged down a set of stairs, taking the treads two at a time. Every landing jostled Daniel's still-smoking shoulder, and jarred him to his teeth - but every second that passed just increased the odds of their being caught - of Earth never getting the message that the Goa'uld were in control of Aegept.

At the bottom, they found themselves in a large, open corridor that seemed to run all the way along this edge of the gardens. The floor ran in tiers down to a walkway in the gardens, forming steps which the two men climbed down as swiftly as possible.

Above them, someone gave a great shout, and they glanced at each other and ran.

A little voice in Daniel's mind told him that running was merely drawing attention to themselves as they pelted along the rows of hedges. However, his instincts were stronger, and adrenaline flooded his system, powering his muscles.

Every step jarred his nerves, yet he kept moving. Every twist and turn he made yanked at the rapidly-drying blood encrusting the raw edges of his jacket, yet he ran on.

At least the air was cold.

If only the damn thing didn't hurt so much at the contact.

Daniel gritted his teeth and kept running.

The first blast of retaliation incinerated an unfortunate bush behind him. The second went over his shoulder and set the dry grass beyond their path alight.

If we wanted proof that they don't really think of us as the heroes of Aegept, we have it, he thought as a third bolt set fire to a nearby bush. Now if only they can keep missing us...

He had no idea how Jack and the others would get back through the Stargate with the Aegeptans on the alert.

A part of him really wanted to go back.

Don't you dare fail. Vega's ferocity back at the library blew that idea away like smoke in a gale.

They were nearly at the Stargate now - shielded from the Palace view by the corner of a hedge. Their main problem was that the last fifty yards were open to the Palace - they would be a big fat target while one of them dialled the gate.

Jonas glanced back. "How's the arm?"

"If I die, it won't be too soon," Daniel said with grim humour. "If we get through to the SGC, Janet can give me morphine for it."

"When we get through to the SGC," Jonas corrected him. "I'll dial the DHD - can you send the GDO code?"

Daniel slipped the GDO out of his pocket, wincing as the movement of the shirt scraped the raw flesh of his wound. "Yes." The sooner they got through the gate...

The hedge they were cowering behind jerked and began smoking. They looked at each other, and Jonas grimaced. "Wish me luck."

And then he was gone, running full-pelt across the gravel path leading down to the Stargate.

Daniel followed him around to the edge of the hedge, and began looking for targets. From this angle, he couldn't see the people with the staff weapons, but he could see the bewildered expressions of the people working in the gardens. People close enough to see them and who they were.

Daniel got an idea.

He stepped out onto the gravel and jogged across, waving at the people gardening over at the other side of the Stargate. "Hey!"

Jonas glanced up as he continued to hit the buttons. He was standing at the upper end of the DHD so he could see the palace and the shots being fired at him. It made dialling a little slower and harder, but that was definitely better than a staff weapon in the back.

A couple of the workers looked up, surprised, and one came over to the hedge in front of Daniel.

"Hey," Daniel said in the common Aegeptan dialect, looking at the nearest one, while still trying to keep an eye on the firing from the palace. "Do you know who I am?"

The man blinked. "You are one of the heroes of Aegept." He indicated Daniel's shoulder and a pitchfork suddenly came up. "Who has dared to hurt you?"

He recoiled at the sight of the muddy tines - an unexpected and not very pleasant weapon. "Uhh..." Then Daniel suddenly realised that this could help the others still inside the palace. "Look, some of your people are...evil. They're like Cronos again - Goa'uld. They've crept back into your land and are intending to rule it, just like Cronos ruled you."

"Goa'uld?" Okay, not the sharpest tool in the box, but he was all Daniel had to work with.

"Daniel!" Jonas yelled over the 'whoosh' of the Stargate's opening.

"Look, my friends are still in the palace. Can you gather your fellow...uh...gardeners and help my friends get to the Chappa'ai?"

"To the Chappa'ai..." Daniel could swear he could see the mental cogs turning behind the man's eyes. "Help them to the Chappa'ai."

"The people who are Goa'uld will be trying to stop them. You have to help them."

The man frowned, even as Jonas jogged up to them. "Daniel?"

"How will we recognise them?" The man seemed like he was genuinely trying to understand.

"You'll know our friends - they're dressed like us. Just help them through the Chappa'ai. That's all we ask. As a favour. For the," Daniel internally winced but kept going, "Heroes of Aegept."

That seemed to do the trick, the man straightened, his shoulders going back. "For the Heroes of Aegept."

Oh, God. Still, help was help. Daniel gripped the man's shoulder. "Takhi'im."

"What was that about?" Jonas asked as the gardener stumped off.

Daniel input the GDO code and sent it through the open wormhole. "Getting backup for the guys," he responded as a bunch of staff weapon blasts landed just short of the gate. "Oh damn."

Their enemies were back and firing.

"Just run for the gate, I guess," Jonas said. "And dodge enough to avoid getting hit." He glanced at Daniel's shoulder. "Again."

"Okay, let's..." Daniel stopped short as there were shouts and cries from behind. The gardener and several of his companions were running towards the palace, gardening implements in hand.

"Good pep talk," Jonas said lightly. "Let's go."

And they ran out of their cover behind the hedge, panting as they sprinted and jinked. They narrowly missed being hit by the barrage of blasts that landed around their feet as they got to the steps leading up to the platform. Several blasts vanished into the event horizon. Several more singed their clothing.

Then they were at the Stargate, and leaped through the freezing cold wormhole to the SGC beyond.

*

The negotiations of which the Aegeptan councillors had spoken made little sense to Teal'c.

As a warrior, Teal'c was not fully conversant with the intricacies of diplomacy and diplomatic relations. What little he had seen of diplomacy was learned from his team-mates, all of whom could be most undiplomatic at times.

Still, it seemed that the Aegeptan councillors were...stalling.

Stalling for what?

O'Neill shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with all this diplomatic talk. From experience, Teal'c knew his friend would rather not have been in conference regarding trade agreements. Such reluctance came partly out of boredom, but also due to O'Neill's awareness that he was not a diplomat. Teal'c knew that his friend considered it 'a crying shame' that Earth might have to be represented by someone who 'really has no idea about this kinda stuff.'

Still, their 'diplomats' - Jonas Quinn, and, to a lesser extent, Daniel Jackson - were not here.

And so the Speaker droned on about trade agreements and what might be acceptable to the Tau'ri in such agreements...

Teal'c blinked. 'The Tau'ri' was not a term that the Aegeptans commonly used to refer to them until now. It was a Goa'uld term - not a human one.

Unusual.

"Excuse me," O'Neill interrupted. "Tau'ri?"

The blue eyes of the Speaker were astonished as he stared at them. Were there the faintest glimmerings of fear in his expression? "What?"

"You just called us the Tau'ri." O'Neill said, in a tone of voice that was neutral - for him.

"I...I did not."

"You did," Teal'c stated, watching the expressions of the Councillors behind the Speaker.

He saw the jerk of the head by the woman, and turned, his zat already in hand and training on the guards behind them. Two were taken out easily, fumbling to get their weapons into action. Behind him, he could hear the chatter of weapons fire, even as the third guard managed a shot - thankfully from a zat and not a staff weapon - that took O'Neill in the back. Teal'c shot him down as the fourth collapsed in a shower of sparks.

It was over in less than thirty seconds.

Teal'c glanced around, surveying the room for any further threats before seeing to his friend. The two guards on the floor weren't moving - the zat blast had knocked them unconscious. Adamson was holding a gun to the Speaker's throat and the other Councillors appeared to be down.

O'Neill was rousing, clenching and unclenching his muscles in spasms intended to regain control of his body. Teal'c hooked an arm under O'Neill's shoulders and hauled him up. "O'Neill, are you well?"

"Apart...from being really...really mad...that our latest allies have turned out to be nasty... I'm fine." O'Neill clenched his jaw and his body again. "Just peachy." He turned his head, "Where's Adamson...?"

"Colonel?" Adamson said, standing back. "We have a problem."

They looked, and found the weapon being held to the Speaker's throat was not Colonel Adamson's but Lieutenant Vega's.

If Teal'c was surprised to see Lieutenant Vega holding her gun to the throat of the Speaker. O'Neill was furious.

"Vega, where the hell are Daniel and Jonas?"

"Hopefully back through the Stargate by now, sir." She jerked the P-90 she held under the Speaker's chin a little, causing him to lift his head higher. "The Aegeptans are Goa'uld - non-naquadah, which is why Major Carter and Teal'c can't sense them. They've been hiding out for millenia, waiting for the chance to get back into the Goa'uld power structure." Her expression was tight. "We were to be their hostages."

"Hostages?"

"That's our guess, sir."

"'Our' meaning Daniel's?"

"Both Dr. Jackson and Jonas, actually," Vega responded. "I sent them through to Earth, they should be disabling our codes even now.

O'Neill swiftly reassessed the situation. "How are we to know you're not one of them, Lieutenant?"

She shrugged. "You don't. But until I start shooting you in the back, you won't know either."

"So wait, how do you know we're not Goa'uld?" Colonel Adamson asked.

She indicated Teal'c. "Teal'c's symbiote prevents a Goa'uld taking him as host, sir. And I doubt he'd stand quietly by while you took a snake in the head."

The two Colonels looked at each other as if to say, 'She has a point.'

Then O'Neill's face snapped shut like a steel trap. "Carter."

Colonel Adamson's expression froze and he spun on his heel and strode to the Speaker, twisting a hand in the collar of his robes. "Where are they?" he demanded with sudden ferocity. "Where did your people take them?"

"I...I don't know... We are not..."

"I saw two of your kind," Lieutenant Vega said, biting off each word sharply. "They had urns with Goa'uld in them - we were to be hosts..."

"You must be mistaken..."

Abruptly, the Speaker's expression changed to agonised as the sharp retort of a gunshot rang out in the Chamber.

Blood dripped wetly on the floor as Adamson brought the gun up to the Speaker's face. "You want to play games with me, Speaker? Go right ahead. Colonel O'Neill might play civilised. I won't."

His ferocity, unexpected to his colleagues, evidently held a ring of truth to the Speaker. He dropped all pretence of being human as his eyes flashed gold and the harmonic overtones of a Goa'uld resounded with ugly reality. "We have waited a thousand years to reclaim our destiny..."

Teal'c could never hear that voice without some fear. He had been servant to the Goa'uld for too long to completely ignore the tone of it, although he fought against the instincts to follow it.

"If you're dead, you're not going to reclaim any destiny," Colonel Adamson snapped and the gun came up to point at the Goa'uld's shoulder. "And if you don't have a shoulder, you'll have a little trouble using a ribbon device. Where did your people take..."

"Adamson," O'Neill warned quietly.

"He knows where Sam is."

"I know. And we all want to know where Carter and..." He broke off as weapons fire chattered outside.

O'Neill strode to the window, pointing at the two guards who were trying to rise. "Teal'c, zat 'em again, please." And without a backwards glance he took himself to the balcony and, cautiously, stepped outside.

"Sounds like gunfire," Adamson said, his gun still pointed at the Goa'uld. "It's gotta be Sam."

"Could be Jonas and Dr. Jackson," Lieutenant Vega pointed out. "They're supposed to be on their way to the Stargate..."

"If Daniel Jackson and Jonas Quinn were ordered to make it to the Stargate and go through, then it is most likely that they are the ones firing. Major Carter and Captain Vang..."

Their radios spit and crackled. "Colonel?"

Both O'Neill and Colonel Adamson answered their radios at the same instant.

"Carter?"

"Sam, are you okay?"

There was a slightly startled pause, before Major Carter continued. "Sir, we've got gunfire happening outside."

"Carter, we've got a situation," O'Neill said. "If anyone approaches you..." He glanced at Lieutenant Vega, "Especially with big ceremonial jars..."

In the background there was the sound of gunfire and swearing and then a faint squealing sound and more swearing.

"Sam!" A pause and more gunfire.

They waited, tensely.

Nothing.

A zat whined. Vega yelped. Gunfire chattered.

Teal'c sighted and fired, sighted and fired, until the vaulted room echoed. Until the only person in his sights was O'Neill, speaking into his radio as he strode over to where Adamson and Vega had gone down. "Carter, report." His eyes met Teal'c's and he nodded his head. Both the Colonel and the Lieutenant were okay - for the moment.

"Uh...sir..." The voice that came over the radio was Captain Vang's shaking tones. "Th...they're Goa'uld!"

The moment froze. Then O'Neill depressed the button on his radio and spoke incisively. "Carter's a Goa'uld?" No answer came. "Vang? Carter?"

"I'm fine, sir." The new voice that crackled across the airwaves was quite audibly Major Carter's. "We're fine." Teal'c felt relief flood him. A little of the tension left O'Neill's shoulders. "But we've just disabled several locals who were carrying big jars with Goa'uld symbiotes in them."

O'Neill bent down. "Roger that, Carter. Some of the locals, possibly the high-ups, are Goa'uld - the non-naquadah kind..."

"Which is why Teal'c and I couldn't sense them." Major Carter's voice held understanding.

"Yup. We're blowing this joint, meet up at the gate. Try to keep casualties to a minimum. The Aegeptans aren't our enemies, just the... Shit!" There was a rapid-fire burst as O'Neill shot at something on the floor.

Teal'c began to stride over, but whirled as one of the Aegeptans on the floor groaned. To be certain that the man would not rise again, he zatted the man once more and turned back. "O'Neill?"

"Sir?" Major Carter's voice was nearly a bark.

"I'm fine," Teal'c heard by voice and radio. "We just had a...small situation with a snake trying to wriggle out and infest Adamson. He's fine."

"Apart from the huge headache," came the dry response. "This floor is hard."

"You'll survive," O'Neill leaned down to help Adamson up. "Okay, Carter, get the hell out of wherever you are and to the Stargate!"

"Getting the hell out as per orders, sir." There was grim humour in Major Carter's voice as her radio clicked off, and O'Neill's expression showed a mirroring amusement at her tone of voice as he hauled Lieutenant Vega off the floor.

"Roger that, Carter. See you at the Stargate. O'Neill out." O'Neill let the button on the radio go and glanced around the room.

Colonel Adamson was helping Vega up. "Which way out, Vega?"

Vega dusted herself off. "I guess the same way we came in, sir."

"The Goa'uld are now aware that we know of their subterfuge."

"My thoughts exactly," O'Neill said. "I have another idea." He detoured around the table to collect the carrypacks they had brought to Aegept and pulled out a coil of rope. "Got your climbing gear, folks?"

*

She and Teal'c stood guard on the ground as Colonel O'Neill and Colonel Adamson rappelled down. Adrenaline hummed through Liz's veins as she carefully surveyed the terrain and stretched her hearing for any possible sounds of pursuit.

The Colonels were faster than she and Teal'c had been, their experience coming into play. Then they were on the ground and unhooking themselves, all focus.

"Fastest way to the Stargate?"

"We shall be in the line of fire, O'Neill."

Colonel O'Neill was quick with the response. "Fastest way to the Stargate that doesn't involve us making targets of ourselves?"

"Along the side, hugging to the gardens and that hedge," Colonel Adamson responded as he flipped the safety catch off his weapon. Liz watched him with a careful eye - he'd already surprised her once today by shooting the Speaker. Her CO was usually a calm, thoughtful man, not given to rash actions.

Maybe it hadn't been a good idea for both SG-1 and SG-15 to be sent on this visit after all.

"Right. Teal'c, you're point. I'm tail. We make for the Stargate and we hold it for Carter and Vang, okay?" An explosion rocked the ground, stopping O'Neill short. Liz crouched down, then winced as dust trickled down past her face.

She narrowed her eyes as much as possible to limit the fine powder blowing into her vision and quickly moved out from under the overhanging stone balcony. The explosion had evidently weakened the structure of the palace enough to make standing underneath the balcony a bad idea.

Her team-mates thought the same thing - they swiftly moved down the stairs and into the garden area, gathering among a small copse of trees.

"That has to be Carter," Colonel O'Neill said with no small amount of satisfaction. "Give the Major some C4 and she's a happy soldier."

Teal'c had taken a few steps away, out of the copse, and was looking towards the Stargate. "Many Aegeptans are running back to the palace."

"Good distraction."

"Indeed."

"Then we're moving. Lead us out, Teal'c." O'Neill gave orders in the tone of someone who expected them obeyed. Liz found herself wondering how well Dr. Jackson usually followed those orders. Not very well, she imagined - the man had been all set to rebel and go fetch his team-mates himself.

She hoped he hadn't doubled back. Jonas had sense to see that the priority was to warn Earth - Liz just hoped that they'd made it through. She tucked away the thought of her husband and son, back on Earth with no idea of what she did in Cheyenne Mountain. When she'd told Dr. Jackson she'd shoot him right there if he refused to go back to Earth, she hadn't been kidding.

Yes, everyone he really cared about was on this planet - but too many people that Liz cared for were back on Earth. And she was military. She could trust herself to be of use - Dr. Jackson might have proven himself to Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, but Liz believed in self-reliance. If you wanted the job done right, you did it yourself.

That included saving the world.

She followed the tall Jaffa as he hugged the hedge, keeping her senses stretched for any signs that might mean they'd been spotted. There were none.

They moved briskly rather than stealthily, trusting in the noise of people running by on the other side of the hedge to hide their footsteps. Besides, Liz realised, they wouldn't be able to stay hidden forever. Sooner or later, someone would spot them, and then...

A badly-aimed staff blast alerted them to their enemies, and Liz spun towards the blast, her P-90 already out and peppering the bushes with gunshot.

"And we're running!" O'Neill yelled from behind, his own gun out and firing. "Vega, when we get there you're dialling. Try not to get hit in the back while doing so!"

"Yes, sir!" She made sure her retort had some bite in it and saw him give her a stern glance for flippancy.

Try not to get hit in the back, my ass, she thought with a measure of annoyance. Dr. Jackson was welcome to him!

They were about one hundred yards from the Stargate and the coast was mostly clear - the guys were opening fire on anything that was shooting at them. Not quite the most pacifistic of actions, but they didn't really have time to stop and ask which side the Aegeptans were on.

At thirty yards, a group came out of nowhere and got them at close quarters.

At this range, their attackers were using the staff weapons as blunt instruments rather than trying to aim and fire. Liz took down two and used the butt of her gun as a club to swing the third out of the way before he could blast a hole in Teal'c's back. Then she used the muzzle to get his eye on the way back and blew his neck off as she tracked a fourth and took him down.

"Aim for the neck!" she screeched as she trained her weapon on Colonel Adamson's opponent. If there were Goa'uld, then they'd be wrapped around the spinal cord, and when the host died, they might jump. She had no intention of getting a Goa'uld in the head, even if they were heading for Cimmeria first. Did Thor's Hammer even remove non-naquadah Goa'uld?

A smack with the butt of a weapon jarred her vision and took her down into the dust. She fired up at her attacker, blindly aiming for the chest and lungs, and rolled out of the way of the falling body.

Something squealed and tried to wriggle out of the man's mouth and Liz panicked. She kicked her legs up and over her head, performing a backwards somersault so she was on her knees. Her hands clutched for the trigger, and she fired without actually looking at the Goa'uld writhing out of the dead man's mouth.

Colonel Adamson was fighting hand-to-hand against two men. Liz shot the nearest one, first in the back, then in the throat when he stiffened in pain. She climbed to her feet, aiming at a man who was about to shoot Colonel O'Neill from behind - and watched in surprise as the man's head exploded in a shower of red.

The gunfire came from over in the gardens - and it was with some relief that she heard O'Neill yell, "Took your sweet time about getting here!"

If an answer came back from Major Carter, Liz never heard it. She was too busy fighting off the next wave of Aegeptans. They came in waves, and it was impossible to tell who was fighting for them and who against. All you could do was wait for them to come at you and fight.

As she peppered a few more shots into some of the approaching attackers, she heard the start of a dialling sequence begin on the Stargate and turned. Major Carter had taken advantage of a break in the fighting to head for the DHD and start dialling.

"Cimmeria!" Liz screamed, hoping that the Major could hear her. "We're going to Cimmeria!"

Without missing a beat, Major Carter slammed her hand down on the red activation panel to cut the dialling sequence.

The blow caught Liz in the ribs. Pain blossomed, but she didn't think she had any broken ribs - yet. In retaliation, she slammed the muzzle of her P-90 into the jaw of her assailant and swung back, firing once. Dark eyes widened in shock as the bullet pierced oesophagus and spinal cord simultaneously and she added another one to the heart for good measure.

The Major was dialling Cimmeria, and Liz glanced around, trying to ascertain her own danger and keep an eye on the surrounds.

A staff blast sizzled past her ear and she smelled burnt hair. The guard was easily identified - the fighters armed with staff weapons had to stand further back to sight their targets properly. She shot him down even as he raised the weapon to aim at Teal'c's unprotected back.

Adrian yelped to her right. She turned, but Colonel Adamson had already dealt with Adrian's opponent through the expedient measures of a P-90 to the back of the head.

A triumphant cry came from the Major - the wormhole was open. "Gate's open! Let's go!"

Liz noticed Major Carter didn't take her own advice. The other woman pulled her weapon around and went back into the fighting.

They had to go through soon, Liz saw as a guard grabbed at Adrian, taking him down to the ground. There were only a handful of Aegeptans still fighting them now. The SGC were still outnumbered, but it was a manageable outnumbering - just.

Adrian's assailant got in a couple of solid punches before Liz reached him and used her P-90 as a club, swinging him off her team-mate with brutal inelegance. She hauled him up and indicated the open Stargate. "Go." Breathless and winded, he just nodded and ran, diving through the wormhole.

Colonel Adamson was heading for the gate. He caught Liz's eye and she waved him through. A moment later, she heard the 'plop' of his departure.

Major Carter finished off her last opponent even as there was a yelp from Colonel O'Neill. Liz turned.

He'd been engaged by two attackers. One of them had just gotten a blow in under his defences. He crumpled, even as Teal'c finished off the other attacker.

"There are more coming!" Major Carter said, running to help Teal'c. Liz waved her on - she was closer and could get to the Colonel faster.

"GO!"

At least the Major had the common sense to see that others could do the job better. She made a beeline for the Stargate and ran up the stairs and into the event horizon.

Liz shot the guard in the back as Teal'c hauled Colonel O'Neill up, over his shoulder. He made his way through the piled bodies of SG-1's opponents. Liz covered his back, her eyes constantly moving from bushes to gardens to path.

There were more guards coming at them. Liz laid down more coverfire to scatter them, aware that her ammo had to be running out.

Fifteen yards.

Ten yards.

Five yards.

The staff blast came out of seemingly nowhere, earthing itself in Teal'c's shoulder. He stumbled and the Colonel nearly got his head bashed in as Teal'c lost his grip on the prone body. Liz grabbed Teal'c's uninjured arm, trying to haul him up. "Keep moving, dammit!" Survival first. She would worry about her temerity at ordering around a hundred-year-old warrior later.

Teal'c grunted. He clambered to his feet. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself to the event horizon, even as several more staff weapon blasts converged on their position.

Liz spattered bullets in a 270-degree arc from one edge of the Stargate to the next. It was a vain attempt at cover fire - her P-90 sputtered and died.

Behind her, the event horizon plopped. They were through.

Liz immediately leapt up the stairs and plunged into the Stargate. The transition from one Stargate to another was still dizzying. After three years at the SGC, she knew the technical description of what happened as you went through the Stargate. All she knew was that it was better - or worse - than any rollercoaster ride she'd ever experienced.

It was quiet on the other side. Quiet and cold.

The frosty stairs abranded her skin as her forward momentum rolled her down the stairs, and she landed on her back with an, "Ooof!" Cold seeped in through her fatigue's jacket immediately, and she watched as a stray bolt from a staffweapon soared through the open Stargate and into the sky.

She followed the trajectory of the bolt, and her eye landed on the huge pillar. The Hammer of Thor.

The gold metal of the Hammer glowed briefly, and the blue light washed over her. It permeated through every pore of her being, searching for the enemy it had been created to destroy.

Under its piercing touch, she found herself frozen, like a creature in car headlights. There was a brief moment of itchiness, but the light vanished as swiftly as it had begun. Liz shivered and nearly fell as she stumbled down the stairs. One glance showed that the event horizon had shut down. Another showed Adrian and Major Carter checking over Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c.

There was no panic, just Major Carter's voice, asking calm questions of Teal'c as she attended to Colonel O'Neill. They didn't need her just now - Adrian had glanced her way and she nodded at him as she flopped onto her back and just lay there. The cold didn't bother her - she was tired, and the adrenaline in her system was fast fading.

Then a thought struck her. It brought her to her feet, every muscle aching from the cold and the draining adrenaline.

She glanced around. The paved area around the Stargate had frosted edges to it and the fields beyond were covered with patchy snow beneath a cold, grey sky. The fields were mostly empty, although distant figures could be seen moving behind wagons and carts.

The whole effect was kind of lethargic, and not a little ominous.

Cimmeria was a refuge. But it didn't feel very comforting.

"Is Colonel O'Neill okay?" Liz heard Adrian ask.

"He was hit with the flat end of a staff weapon." Teal'c said, his stolid tones laced with an undernote of pain.

"Might be concussion," Major Carter said, "We'll need something to support his head and neck before we take him back to Earth..."

"I told Daniel and Jonas to come through here," Liz said as she turned, surveying the planet. "We can't dial Earth - they don't know that we're not under Goa'uld control. So we come here, they join us and take us back."

Liz paused. She turned around again and frowned.

But he went...

"Where's Colonel Adamson?" Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.

Major Carter's head jerked up, "He didn't come through...?"

"I don't know." Liz looked to Adrian.

"He d...didn't." In nervousness, Adrian reverted to his habitual stutter. His eyes flickered from Liz's face to Major Carter's. "After I g...got through a man arrived, but the H...Hammer took him. I watched the G...Gate. There w...was nobody else until Major C...Carter arrived..."

He hadn't made it.

Her eyes met Liz's gaze. "We have to go back!"

It would be suicide to go back. They'd be walking into a situation blind - with no idea of what was happening on the other side of the Stargate.

Liz didn't say it, though - she didn't need to. The Major knew the impossibility of it even as the words left her mouth. She paused, tension all through the line of her back and shoulders, one hand resting on the Colonel's shoulder.

And, as if on cue, Colonel O'Neill groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the cold ground.

The question of Colonel Adamson's situation became moot. He was where he was - probably still on Aegept, either dead or unconscious. The matter of the immediate care of their team-mates was priority.

Still...

Liz tapped Adrian on the shoulder and indicated that she was going to find some of the locals and get what help they could for Colonel O'Neill.

Colonel Adamson was beyond their help now.

*

She woke up alone.

She'd woken up alone nearly every morning for the last seven years. For a while, she'd thought she'd always be sleeping alone. After all, relationships with the people closest to her - the people who understood the importance of her work - weren't possible, and relationships with those who didn't know what she did for a living were impossible. Then, she'd started dating Grant and started thinking that maybe she wouldn't have to wake up alone ever again.

Aegept had changed all that.

Her last sight of Grant had been him heading for the Stargate. Then Colonel O'Neill yelped from behind her, and she and Teal'c swung to see if their team-mate needed help. Behind them, they heard the gurgle of the Stargate as someone entered the event horizon, and Sam thought nothing more of it.

Until she looked around Cimmeria and didn't see him there.

Her first instincts had been to march over to the DHD and dial Aegept to go and get him back.

That thought died before it even finished. If he was on Aegept, he was in the possession of the Goa'uld. Alive or dead, it didn't matter. Going back to Aegept would be a suicide mission.

General Hammond had ruled it a suicide mission and Aegept had been locked out of the dialling computers.

That was a month ago.

There were other things happening in the SGC to the people around her. Sam paid attention and did her job and responded where necessary. But another part of her was waiting for him to walk back through the Stargate with the slightly worried look he got when he had something on his mind.

Sam knew this expectancy for what it was - simple human denial. In the absence of a body, of the concrete knowledge of where he was, he was simply...removed. Not gone from her life, but ghostly. Present and discarnate; waiting around every corner but never seen, at work when she was home, at home when she was at work.

While a part of her moved on with the blunt necessity of the military, a part of her held on with the fierce grip of humanity's need for memory.

Her grip was slipping.

Maybe it was just that she'd been alone for so long that the habits and patterns of her life as a single were rapidly reasserting themselves.

There was nothing she could do about Grant's absence, but that didn't stop the sense of emptiness in her life. He'd been there, and now he wasn't.

Increasing daylight pushed back the shadows on the ceiling, chasing them out of existance until the night returned.

Sam sighed and rolled over in the bed. She didn't want to get up today - a feeling that had hit her increasingly often in the last four weeks since they returned from Cimmeria in the company of SG-8.

It would be tempting to call in sick - in six years, she'd rarely called in sick, too often being found in her lab when her team-mates or Janet considered that she wasn't fit for duty. But calling in sick today wouldn't help - they'd just reschedule her for the appointment tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

It was little comfort that the rest of her team and SG-15 were undergoing counselling as well - sometimes all together, mostly individually. Daniel and Jonas had gotten out of it pretty early. MacKenzie ruled that the trauma was considerably less since their section of the mission was successfully accomplished - get off the planet and warn the SGC, then go to Cimmeria to pick up their team-mates.

Sam, as the fianceé of the missing man, was coming under the most rigorous scrutiny.

She was tired of it. Tired of the 'how do you feel about it', and the 'do you think you could have done anything' questions that assailed her when she sat down with Dr. MacKenzie. Tired of the whispers and the wonders, tired of the people who trod on eggshells around her, expecting her to break down and cry or expecting her to lash out in anger. The guys knew enough about her to act normally, but even their small gestures of concern could be stifling.

They meant well, she knew. She just wasn't sure how much more of it she could take.

Slowly, she climbed out of the bed and wandered into the shower.

They just needed to get back into the rhythm of the SGC. Once they were back on the active roster for Stargating teams, she'd deal. She'd miss him at night and in the morning, but she'd deal. She always dealt with this kind of stuff. After Jolinar, after Edora, after the za'tarc machine; after the entity, after the Aschenn, after Aegept. She dealt.

Could she deal with the guilt of not having looked back to see that he made it through the wormhole?

Could she deal with the ache within her that was neither sad that he was gone, nor glad that he was gone?

Could she deal with the loss of someone who'd been so closely intertwined with her life in the last year?

She would have to. Life would not stop for her and she would not stop for this grief. She could not. To do so would be a betrayal of everything she had been taught - of everything she had worked towards these last few years.

It was simple and yet it was also complex.

Too complex for a mere soldier scientist to plumb.

Water spray cascaded down over her face and shoulders, masking the tears she hid from the world and herself. The water was hot and what her body needed, but it didn't ease the icy chill of loneliness within her soul.

Whatever conflicting emotions carried on within her, the plain, simple truth of the matter was that she missed him.

She missed Grant.

But beneath everything she felt or felt she should feel was a hard kernel of relief, shameful though it might be.

At least Colonel O'Neill made it through.

*

The glass was set down in front of Sam as Jack climbed back into his seat. "Eat up, Carter. Can't have you wasting away on us."

Daniel snorted without looking up from his notes, "Sam's got more sense than to go in for some fandango diet." He slanted a faint smile at her. "Besides, she's fine as she is."

The pleasure in her expression was tinged with wry amusement - and the faint gleam of feminine pleasure at the admiration of a man, even one she considered just a friend. "Very good, Daniel. Lots of brownie points."

It pleased him to see that she was starting to come out of the shell she'd retreated into upon their return from Aegept. While his pride and a now-instinctive dislike of the psychologist wished to believe that it was just the passage of time, another part of him knew that the counselling sessions they'd all undergone with Dr. McKenzie had helped her 'necessary grieving process' along.

Even if she was the only one of the two teams still not cleared for offworld travel after a month.

"And what do the brownie points get me?" He countered.

Her smile broadened. "Maybe the significance of those equations you found in that scroll from P1W-292?"

Daniel jerked up in his seat, nearly upsetting his drink. Only the opportune intervention of his team-mate stopped the table from flooding with Mountain Dew. Teal'c reached out and plucked the wobbling bottle from where it threatened to overbalance. "You worked them out?"

"Math and science translate better between languages than words, Daniel, you know that." Sam watched Teal'c solemnly put the lid on the bottle before she looked back at him.

Daniel made a face at her. "I knew I should have specialised in the hard sciences at college. The easy route and all..." Sam smiled, her expression showing that she was quite aware of his attempt to prod her into a defence reaction about her discipline, and that he wouldn't be getting any reaction from her.

"Oh come on, Daniel," Jack interrupted, "You never took an easy route in your life, especially not if there was a harder one to follow." When Daniel glared at him, Jack elaborated. "Well, for a start: aliens and archaeology?"

He would bring that up. Of course, Daniel had been right in the end - a fact that didn't require a reminder.

"And Egyptology, while popular, isn't exactly easy at the Doctorate level," Sam added. "Yes, I worked out those equations for you. If you drop by after lunch, I'll explain them to you. They're not exactly lunchtime conversation."

"Almost nothing we talk about here is lunchtime conversation," Jack said, a note of dryness in his tone. "Between the two of you," he indicated their half of the table with his spoon, "it's more suited to a lecture room than a lunchroom. Teal'c and I have to make up by discussing sports and other mindless things."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Anyone who thinks that you two are mindless needs their head examined."

"You sometimes..."

"I do not!" He had never thought anything like that at all. He might want to hit the man over the head with a clue-by-four on occasion, but he did try to avoid underestimating him. "I sometimes think you're deliberately misunderstanding, but I never think you're mindless. Stubborn and pigheaded, on the other hand..."

"Right back at'cha, Daniel."

"...but never brainless."

"So kind." Sarcasm dripped from Jack's voice like ice-cream from a cone.

Beside him, Sam was regarding them with undisguised affection and exasperation for their argument. Daniel opened his mouth to ask about the equations she'd translated and was interrupted.

"SG-1 and SG-15 to report to the briefing room immediately. Repeat. SG-1 and SG-15 to report to the briefing room immediately." Heads rose at the PA announcement, then swivelled to where SG-1 was sitting at their table.

"And I was only halfway through my Jello!" Jack complained without any particular animosity. "Do you think Hammond would let me take it with me?"

Daniel rolled his eyes and stood up, not bothering to answer his friend.

Up in the briefing room, General Hammond didn't beat around the bush.

"We've received a lead from the Tok'ra about a human prisoner being held by one of the minor Goa'uld Lords. They don't have an operative in that court so they can't tell us the details of exactly who. All they know is that he's bound for Anubis one way or the other."

A human prisoner headed for Anubis...

Most ordinary humans weren't of much interest to the Goa'uld - only the rebellious Tau'ri. And while there were several SGC personnel who were MIA, there was only one recently missing member of the SGC.

"Colonel Adamson?" Jonas was the one to voice what they were all thinking, but that nobody had the courage to say.

Daniel carefully didn't look at Jonas. He hadn't really said anything to the other man since his outburst on the planet - an outburst he'd come to regret.

"That's what we're hoping. The Tok'ra have managed to send an agent to infiltrate the court and discover the identity of the captive, however, the agent is on a tight time frame. She was supposed to be headed out to another system, but has agreed to stop by at the court in her guise of a messenger between System Lords and their vassals. She'll be on this planet for only a couple of hours, during which she'll be able to debrief you about the prisoner and give us any information we need to proceed - if proceeding is possible."

Daniel risked a glance at Sam. Her chin trembled a little, and there was a sudden rigidity in her posture. But that was all. He shot her the faintest of smiles and caught the ghost of a grateful smile in return. It vanished with General Hammond's next words.

"Since Major Carter hasn't yet been cleared for off-world activity, I've decided to second Captain Vang and Lieutenant Vega to SG-1 for this mission." Hammond indicated Teal'c. "If Teal'c is willing to remain behind this time...?"

Teal'c didn't have a problem with that at all. "I am willing, General Hammond."

It was fairly obvious from Sam's expression that she did have a problem with staying behind. Daniel felt regret and satisfaction both. He wished that Sam was able to come with them, but until McKenzie cleared her, she was confined to base. In the meantime, Teal'c would stay to keep an eye on Sam, so she didn't feel completely left out.

"Jonas will continue working with SG-11 on the Katari negotiations during this time. That'll make the meeting party Colonel O'Neill, Dr. Jackson, Captain Vang, and Lieutenant Vega. You'll ship out in two hours to the address the Tok'ra have provided..."

"Any chance of a trap, sir?"

"Leave that job up to those of us with more people under our command, Colonel. The address has been provided from a trustworthy source - we can choose to act on it, or to lose the opportunity. We're acting. You ship out in two hours. Dismissed."

As the others shuffled out, Daniel paused by Sam, deciding that he had time to cut it close. Jack would probably skin him for being late, but he really needed to find out how things were going with Sam - especially after this news.

So far, she'd taken it all very well. Too well.

Daniel tended to speak his mind. It was what had caused the rift between him and Jonas in the first place. Sam tended to keep her thoughts to herself until her opinion was asked. She tended to be reserved and self-controlled - partly because that was her personality type and upbringing, but partly also because of her training as a soldier.

"Well, we have a bit of time," he said as she stood up. "Why don't you show me those equations you were looking at?"

Beyond her, Jack and Teal'c were hovering in the corridor. Daniel glanced at them and hoped they'd take the hint that he was going to monopolise her time until they left to meet with the Tok'ra.

Sam seemed startled by his request. "Well, you have to go in a couple of hours..."

"I can be ready in thirty minutes," he said and watched the smile grow on her face.

"Which just means you'll be fifteen minutes late."

"Jack can wait for me. He usually does." Daniel knew he sounded careless and smiled at the admonishing look she gave him. Sam was military down to her bones - tardiness was practically a sin.

Sam shook her head, smiling at his cavalier attitude. "Okay. I guess it won't take too long to show them to you."

In the silence as they made their way back to her lab, Daniel pondered how to bring the matter up. As it turned out, he didn't have to. Sam brought up a topic that swept away all thought of her emotional state and focused on his instead.

"What did you say to Jonas on Aegept?"

It was a mildly curious question, no condemnation in it, but Daniel still felt defensive "Nothing much."

She regarded him levelly, "It must have been something. The two of you have been tiptoeing around it since we came back."

"And here I thought we'd been so subtle about it," he tried joking about it. It didn't work.

"Just because we didn't bring it up doesn't mean we don't notice these things, Daniel." She sat down behind her computer, her heels up on the heel-rest, her hands in her lap. "You and Jonas seemed to be getting along fine before Aegept. And since then, the pair of you haven't been seen in each other's company for more than five minutes. What did you say?"

"What makes you think that I was the one to say anything?"

Sam fixed him with a 'look'. "He's the diplomat, Daniel. And you're the one to hold grudges." Her gaze was direct and unapologetic. "I know you. You speak first and think later - more than even Colonel O'Neill does. And you were Rumlow's friend."

Daniel looked at her, sitting still and expectant on the other side of the desk. Sometimes, in the consideration of Sam as a soldier and a scientist, he forgot that she was also a woman, and a fairly perceptive one when she chose to be. Just because she was brilliant at math and science was no reason for her not to sense and address issues she felt might be of concern to them as a team.

He could tell her it was none of her business. Put the spotlight back on her and ignore what she was trying to do. He could.

"I asked him if it was practical to lie about Tim's death." That was the bald version, and he turned away, not wanting an audience he could see as he confessed his sins. "It was on Aegept. We were in the library, we'd just worked out that the Goa'uld were in control, we were looking for a way out. I wanted to go after you guys, Vega wanted me to come back here to get the news back to the SGC. Jonas said it wasn't practical... I got angry." He'd let his temper control his tongue - never a wise thing - and said what couldn't be unsaid.

He set his palms against the cool bench-top edge, waiting for her response, her condemnation - anything.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Had he meant it? Yes. At the time. But there was a difference between thinking something and saying it. Sometimes a very big difference. And Daniel had crossed that line and could not go back.

"Yes. And no."

"Do you want to fix it?" The question was curious rather than cold, reflective rather than judgmental.

Daniel turned, looking at her and frowning. "What do you mean, 'Do I want to fix it'? Of course I do!"

"There isn't necessarily an 'of course' about it," Sam replied. Her hands rested on the table, and the diamond Grant had given her twinkled in the low-level light of the SGC. "You might just want to avoid Jonas in future."

For the first time since he'd come back from Aegept, Daniel actually thought the matter over rather than just reacting to it.

He'd liked Jonas. If they'd met under any other circumstances, he got the feeling they would have been friends. They shared the same cultural curiosity about civilisations and cultures, although Daniel was more attuned to the ancient knowledge of archaeology while Jonas' curiosity lay towards the study of the culture using modern Earth society as a reference. They'd disagreed about matters of archaeology and diplomacy before and never thought twice about it.

But they'd been fairly careful not to mention Tim after that first time Daniel went to see Jonas, holding out the proverbial olive branch.

In hindsight, Daniel realised that he hadn't really let Tim's death pass. It had scabbed over but not healed. In a way, Aegept had ripped the scab off - and Daniel had realised that it still hurt. It still rankled that the worst reception Jonas received from the SGC was some coldness shortly after his arrival.

But he worked to make himself useful, he reminded himself. He gave us all the knowledge about the naquadriah testing, and anything he remembered from his study of the Goa'uld ruins on Kelowna. He came up with the solution for the Stargate that Anubis locked. Sam said he just kept suggesting until one of them took.

In the end, for Daniel, it didn't matter how useful Jonas had made himself. The SGC and the military personnel might think in terms of utilitarian practicality but Daniel was not military.

Jonas had been indirectly responsible for Tim's death according to the reports.

According to the reports.

Daniel paused in his thoughts. I never asked him what did happen with Tim, he realised with a gut-sinking feeling. I never asked him why he decided to take the part of his government and say that Tim had tried to sabotage the research. I never tried to get any background or information about it. I just made a judgement.

Very open-minded, Daniel.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?" Sam's voice broke in to his reflection and he started. Lost in his musings, he'd forgotten she was even there.

He shrugged, still struggling with his own actions and reactions. Daniel knew you couldn't choose what happened to you, but you could choose how you were going to respond to it. His father had taught him that and it had served him well through the years of mockery by his academic peers. When had he forgotten that old, old lesson?

"Have you forgiven Teal'c for Sha're?"

It was a simple enough question. No tricky bits. Not even anything he had to think about. "Yes. But that's different?"

"How?"

He turned to glare at her. "Have you been taking lessons from McKenzie?"

Sam didn't take the insult as it had been thrown. "I've been learning while he's been headshrinking me, yes." She gave a deprecating shrug and her mouth twisted a little. "However, unlike him, I have a personal stake in your well-being."

"I had to forgive Teal'c." Even several years later, Daniel remembered the time when he'd been unable to look at Teal'c without thinking of Sha're and what had happened to her; her possession by Ammonet, her death. That time, it had been Jack who gave him the requisite kick in the pants to get over it.

"Did you want to?"

"He asked for forgiveness."

"Did Jonas?"

"I had to work with him on SG-1."

Sam was silent.

He'd loved Sha're more than he'd loved anyone in his life since his parents' death. She'd been the practical one amidst his flights of fancy. She'd been the supporting one when he flung himself, headstrong, into a translation or a theory. She'd been the woman who'd laughed at him when everyone else held him in far too much awe for his comfort. She'd been the woman at night who slid against him, giggling at his shyness in bed.

He'd forgiven Teal'c for Sha're's death and he'd loved his wife with more passion than he'd spent on anyone before or since.

Why couldn't he forgive Jonas for Tim's death?

"You know, I actually came to ask if you were okay with McKenzie's headshrinking about Grant," Daniel said, in a feeble attempt at humour.

"I know," she said, shifting on the chair with a rustle of fabric. "And I asked about Jonas first, Daniel."

"I think I may need more time to think this through," he said.

"You've had over a month," she said quietly. "Maybe you should start acting."

He bristled in spite of the knowledge that she meant well. "You're not putting any arguments forward for him?"

"I don't need to."

She let the silence sit for maybe a minute, unmarked by any comments or any activity on her part. Then she spoke again. "I'm tired of people asking if I'm okay about Grant."

Daniel turned, relieved that the spotlight was no longer on him. She'd given him stuff to think about, but he didn't have to think about it right now. Maybe while they were waiting for the Tok'ra to turn up.

"We're just trying to care," he offered.

"I know," she said as she pulled a file from her inbox tray. "Which is why I haven't yet lost my temper at you." There was a quiet weariness about her - a weariness Daniel remembered only too well from the days after Tim's death. "Look, I'm...coping." Her mouth turned up a little at one corner, giving her the ghost of a wry smile. "And this mission might be a step towards finding him."

"You don't have to do this alone, you know, Sam."

The smile vanished, leaving behind a tired woman. Yet, even in her weariness there was a sombre beauty about her. "I know, Daniel."

He had enough sensitivity to realise she wasn't going to talk about it now. And he'd done more or less what he'd come to do. Rather less than more, but Sam was an expert at evading personal questions. "You know we care about you, don't you?"

The bubble of laughter that emerged from her was more of a huff than a laugh, but her delight and pleasure was obvious. "Yes, Daniel. I do. And the...care is reciprocal."

He nodded, satisfied. "Just so you know."

"I know." She waved the folder at him before the moment could get maudlin. "You wanted to know about those equations?"

Daniel did. They spent the remaining hour going over the translations and the equations with no more words about Jonas Quinn or Grant Adamson.

*

Jack glanced up from his cup of coffee. She was struggling with the cookie wrapping, trying to get the plastic open. For a woman who could fix just about any electronic gizmo made, she was having a surprising amount of trouble.

After a few minutes of watching, Jack could take no more. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "I'm not all that hungry anyway." And he wasn't. He hadn't come to her place to eat her food, he'd come to see how she was doing.

She shot him a brief, wry glance and discarded the cookie on the bench, still unopened.

Since their return, Jack had been closeted with General Hammond and the Tok'ra Vaisha, trying to determine how reliable the data from the Tok'ra really was. He'd been too busy to spare time to come out and see her.

A four-hour mission turned into a week-long run from the Goa'uld when the Tok'ra's cover was blown. Vaisha turned up to meet SG-1, but brought a whole flotilla of hat'ak on her tail. There was time for her to ring up SG-1 onto her tel'tak, and then they were off.

The nearest planet with a Stargate was five days flight away when your teltak was at full power. Vaisha's teltak wasn't. And the Tok'ra herself flew her craft like a drunk in a Tomcat, except that the teltak had more gees. It just didn't have enough gees to get them to the nearest Stargate-capable planet in anything less than a week.

By the time SG-1 returned with Vaisha, Carter, Teal'c, and Jonas had cleaned up an NID operation out in Steveston, nearly getting snaked in the process. Carter had been sent home from the infirmary to recuperate, having been cleared to leave the infirmary but not being permitted to drive or work.

Jack knew that to fuss over her would be a mistake. Not that he was the fussing type, either. But he knew this woman, and he knew how much she hated fussing. So he wouldn't ask about Steveston. Not yet, anyway.

She'd almost died.

She'd been so close to becoming a host to another snake and only the providence of Richard Fleming had stopped it. Jack sent grateful thoughts towards the ghost of the dead Zetatron scientist. If not for his serum, nobody would have discovered Carter was a Goa'uld until too late.

"So what brings you to my abode, Colonel?" Carter asked lightly as she took up her cup of coffee and sipped it slowly.

Jack shrugged, unwilling to admit that he'd wanted more than the assurances of Janet, Daniel, Teal'c, Jonas, and General Hammond that Carter was fine. He'd wanted to see her with his own eyes and assure himself that she was okay.

"Has McKenzie cleared you for offworld yet?" He asked, not quite changing the subject, but not answering her question either. It was an innocuous query.

If she was surprised by the apparent non-sequitur of his conversation, she answered it nevertheless. "Not yet. I see him on Thursday."

"Joy."

Her mouth quirked.

If she knew why he was here, she hadn't called him on it - yet. So, with tacit permission given, Jack studied her as closely as he dared.

She seemed fragile, her skin taking on a translucent hue of weariness. It had all been too much, too close together. Yet, in the midst of her exhaustion, the near-indestructible core of her still shone through. She was lit up from within, illuminated by that spark of Sam Carter that Jack had never yet seen wane or fade. He hoped he never would. The thought of her broken beyond any hope of redemption was a terrible one.

"So has the General authorised the information-gathering mission, yet?" Her words broke into his thoughts redirecting them to his discussions with Hammond over the last few days. He glanced down at the mug held loosely in his hands, then up at her, meeting her gaze for a brief second before skittering away again.

"Yeah, but it looks like it'll be a few days before we have a go."

"Why the delay?" A crease wrinkled her brow. "If we have the information now..."

"Thursday," Jack said, somewhat obliquely.

"Thursday?" The crease deepened.

"Your appointment with McKenzie is Thursday."

Her response was immediate, eyes widening in surprise. "You're waiting until I'm good to go offworld...? But I thought another team...?"

"...would be sent?" Jack finished for her. "Yeah, that's what I figured, too. But I think McKenzie got to Hammond. Something about including us in the rescue plans for psych purposes. Healing and all that." Jack gave the psychologist credit for knowing his work. He might not like the guy on a personal level, but there was no denying the man knew his stuff.

"You really think he'd authorise me to go back out on missions again?" It was unusual for Carter to be uncertain about anything, but Jack heard the waver in her voice.

"I think there's a pretty good chance." He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, black and bitter. "We'd rather go with you than without."

"But you don't get a choice about it."

"No," he admitted. "But I can kick up a stink..."

"Which doesn't help your reputation any..."

"Carter, since when have I had a reputation with the big brass anyway? Other than one for being unmanageable and insubordinate?"

She grinned, amusement returning to her expression. "Point, sir." The grin turned into a slight wince as she reached over her shoulder to massage her neck.

It took Jack a second to realise that she was trying to reach the lump where the symbiote had embedded itself at the base of her spine. "Carter?"

"Just a slight headache, sir."

He grimaced. "The Doc said it won't clash with what Jolinar left in you."

"It shouldn't." She glanced at him, but her fingers never stopped massaging her nape.

"The locals?"

"According to them, they've had some injections against meningitis."

"They're not suddenly going to develop a sensitivity to naquadah are they?" Jack said, suddenly alarmed at the prospect of a whole town full of people getting strange tingly feelings anytime Teal'c or Carter went visiting.

Her mouth curved in amusement. "These Goa'uld symbiotes don't have naquadah, so the people of Steveston have the protein marker but not the naquadah sensitivity." She shrugged. "General Hammond has some people stationed in the town keeping an eye on the medical state of the population. If they start reacting adversely to food or medication, then there may be a problem, but in the meantime..."

"What they don't know can't hurt them?" Jack offered.

"Yeah." She was still massaging her neck as she spoke.

It didn't look very effective or comfortable, and after a minute Jack put his mug down and levered himself off the bench. He wasn't going to watch this without offering something. "May I?" He indicated her neck.

Her expression showed surprise that he'd made the offer at all. Physical contact was something they went out of their way to avoid when not on duty. It was dangerous ground between them, and they long ago decided that the fragility of whatever lay between them was best left untested.

The coward's way? Maybe.

But it worked.

In an organisation that was just as willing with what worked as with what was defined as rules, the fact that their relationship worked was important.

She looked at him for a long minute, and Jack met her gaze as best he could. Then she nodded, and turned her back to him, giving him access to the lump at her neck.

The pain must have been pretty bad, Jack decided as he rested his fingers on the slope of her shoulders and began smoothing over the lump of the symbiote with his thumbs. She'd never have let him do any such thing if she could have kept a stiff upper lip and borne whatever pain there was.

Gently, he worked his thumbs up and down her nape. The rest of his fingers lightly kneaded the inches where her neck met her shoulders, easing the tension there. Her breathing seemed slower now, more deliberate than it had been before. Relaxed.

Jack was glad of her ease in his presence at least. Some things had changed.

Some things hadn't.

"Did Daniel tell you about Vang and the Tok'ra?"

He felt the brief spurt of laughter beneath his fingertips, stretched out over the slender grace of her collarbones. "A little bit. She really was trying to get him into bed?"

Jack grinned, remembering the somewhat hunted expression on Vang's face. "Oh yeah. Daniel was quite peeved."

"Because he's usually the one that the Goa'uld go for?" Carter asked, a faint smirk in her voice.

"Well, he might have been peeved over the fact that none of the rest of us would listen to his boring lectures about the writing in the ruins. We weren't there to listen to him lecture." He couldn't quite keep the irritation out of his voice as he spoke of their team-mate. Fond as he was of Daniel - sometimes - the archaeologist could be a real pain in the butt. "I swear I will never take another trip with Daniel unless you or Teal'c are there, too."

Carter laughed and dropped her head forward even further so her chin rested on her chest. Jack correspondingly began massaging her neck with firmer strokes. "He complained that everyone ignored him for most of the trip."

"Only because he would have chewed our ears off with his pointless, boring translations," Jack protested. "I didn't want to know. Vega didn't want to know. Vang was too busy trying to elude Vaisha in an area smaller than the Gateroom." He paused. "There are a lot of 'Vuhs' in that last sentence."

She laughed again, this time a muffled peal of laughter. When she stopped, her voice was a little choked. "So it was all in Daniel's imagination, then?"

"Well, no it wasn't," Jack conceded. "We were ignoring him. But it was for his own good."

He could hear the raised eyebrows in her voice, "It was for his own good?"

"Yeah. If we hadn't ignored him, he'd have bored us to tears - or insanity." Jack's thumbs had wandered away from the lump on her spinal cord, teasing at the short blonde strands at the base of her skull. "If things got really hairy with the lecturing and the boredom, he could have gotten himself killed."

"Daniel doesn't need things to get hairy to get himself killed."

"I guess he doesn't." Jack shook his head and refrained from commenting further on their friend. Daniel was Daniel, and a law unto himself. You liked him, but it had to be said that the urge to punch the living daylights came up at least once a week. On those really annoying weeks, the urge came once a day.

Personally, Jack felt proud that he'd managed six years without thumping Daniel once. Except for the time when he'd had the alien virus and had got jealous over Daniel going to visit Carter. Which had been the virus' fault. Sort of.

He realised he was mentally babbling to himself and wondered why. Then, he realised that he'd bent forward enough so his nose was just hovering off the edges of her hair. Unintentional and unconscious, but telling.

Jack straightened himself up and continued the massage without further words. He worked her neck between his thumbs until his hands ached from the strain.

"Better?" It seemed that she'd almost fully relaxed now. Her muscles weren't in knots, and while the lump was still there, no amount of massaging would make the symbiote dissolve any faster.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Thanks." She sounded distant and tired. Alone.

The timbre of her tone touched something in his soul. He knew how she felt. He'd felt the ennui in himself.

Oh, there'd always been moments when he'd longed for the things he'd lost since his separation with Sara all those years ago. With one gunshot, he'd lost both son and wife, and so many other things.

Since the severing of the possibilities between him and Carter, he felt the ennui a lot stronger and a lot more often. Part of him wanted to wrench away from her, to yank the fine threads of their connection from her grasp, uncaring of whether they hurt her in the breaking. And another part of him wanted to use those same threads to haul her close, to entrap her in whatever way was possible.

But the part that had control was the part of Jack that insisted on staying still - holding onto what he had and requiring him to be content with it.

There was just one problem, Jack realised as he bent down to brush his lips over the lump at the nape of her neck; the 'satisfied' part of him was no longer in control.

Beneath his mouth, she froze, and Jack cursed whatever impulse had caused him to lean down. He pulled back from her; pulled away. Words halted at the edge of his mouth, unsaid, and he frantically tried to think of any of a dozen apologies that she might accept for his hasty actions.

In the end, he didn't need to apologise.

She turned in his arms, between him and the counter; turned and looked up into his face with her impossibly large, haunted eyes. One hand reached up between them to trace the line of his hair, and he felt the tickle of her touch as she pushed back the crisp grey strands from his face.

When she leaned into him, brushing her lips by his, he trembled a moment, closing his eyes, then bent his head to receive and return the kiss.

All he was doing at that moment was feeling. His senses were completely focused on the taste of her in his mouth - coffee and cookie. Her lips were warm and soft and gentle against his own, and her fingers slid from his cheek into his hair and lightly down the nape of his neck. Shivers played down Jack's spine and he instinctively leaned into her with body and mouth.

He was seeking salvation. Salvation and an end to the hollow inside him, so long empty and unsatisfied with one-night stands or casual jerk-offs. He wanted more from his personal life - the life he'd been denied and denied until his gun and Charlie and Sara's actions had taken it from him forever.

The ache in him was hot and hard, and not entirely sexual. It lay in his abdomen, a fierce knot of passions and excuses and reasons why and why not. It scorched him from the inside out as her mouth moved against his. Carter was hungry for what he could give her; both aggressive and submissive, a contradiction and a paradox, entirely her own woman and yet promising to be his also.

And it was as erotic as all hells.

He felt the heave of her breasts against him. Just the faintest touch, but it was intensely arousing, and in ways that went deeper than mere physical reaction. Jack wanted more from this woman than a quick screw for satisfaction. He wanted mornings, noons, and nights; breakfast, lunches, teas, dinners, and suppers; working week and Sunday rest; Earth and moon, sun, sky, heavens, planets, and wormholes. He wanted technobabble in the daylight and sweet laughter in the night; her hand on his arm, hauling him up as they clambered over rocky terrain, and his hand on her hip as they lay in bed together.

Jack wanted too much.

All this spun through his mind, like a body through a wormhole, fast and dizzying, freezing and fiery. And then he was spat out from the thought with a cold, shaking, sick feeling about what they were doing now.

He wrenched himself from her, from the taste of her mouth and the touch of her hands. Wanting and needing, but unable to live with himself without asking first, without being sure.

Did she feel it too? Did she want what he wanted? Was it need or desire or madness - or all three at once? Where did Jack fit into her world and why now and not six months or a year ago? And what about Adamson?

For once he was thinking and she was acting, and he didn't know if that was good or bad - that her habits of thinking had rubbed off on him or that his habits of acting on instinct had rubbed off on her. He only knew that his body protested at the loss of her against him, and his feelings were raw and chafed.

They looked at each other in the eyes and the face for long moments, seeking revulsion or rejection. They found none. Remorse, yes. But not the others. Never the others.

Slowly, Jack lowered his head to hers, resting forehead against forehead, angling his face so the only point of contact was their brows. "Carter…"

"Sir, I…"

He pressed a thumb lightly over her lips. He didn't want apologies. He didn't want recriminations. He didn't even want an explanation. "I think we need to talk. About this," he added, unnecessarily. "Just once."

"What is there to talk about?" She asked, her lips brushing his thumb. Even that contact was more than Jack could bear. His hand slipped to her shoulder and tried not to remember how that little caress felt. "Even…even if we…felt anything, we could never do anything…"

"I know." The words were gentle and sad. Too close to care, but not so far away that he could avoid watching someone else love her. "Do you think we needed this?"

"Needed this?"

"As a goodbye."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Maybe." There was the tiniest shrug before she looked away from him completely. "Maybe we never said 'hello' in the first place."

Jack closed his eyes. He was tired again. Bone-deep, soul-deep. They moved on, but their paths circled, like binary stars unable to break from each other's gravity. It was a holding pattern that they'd tried to end one way or another while still working together as part of SG-1. They'd consciously accepted that there would be no happy ending, but sometimes it seemed as if their unconscious still longed for what they each knew they could not have.

"Jack." He'd never heard his name on her lips before, not from her, not really. She sounded uncertain, and it wasn't something he typically associated with Carter. "If it wasn't for everything..."

"Don't say it." His eyes flew open and he shook his head. It was too much, too late. He didn't need to hear her regrets - he didn't want to know what he could have had. "Don't."

She didn't, obedient in even this. "You know it, though."

He knew. "Yes. But you chose to move on." There was no recrimination in his voice. He didn't blame her for it. But it tore at him anyway. "And I chose to let you move on." The decision had been his own as well, to be colleagues and friends as they'd always been.

He took her hand in his own, struggling against the alpha male inside him demanding to take, to conquer, to mark, to claim. It would be easy to do so - too easy. It would be good - too good. And it would tear them apart. Even as much as they'd done today might shred the fragile fabric of their friendship if they weren't careful. A reckless kiss that had meant everything and could not mean anything.

"Carter..." Jack drew a long, slow breath, looking down at the hand enclosed in his fingers. "We're friends, aren't we?"

She nodded. "Friends." A small smile hovered on her lips. Relieved. Regretful.

Neither of them needed to say that they could have been more.

Jack took a step backwards, giving her space, giving himself space. His instincts screamed at him to make some excuse and leave, but he battled them, stubbornly. He might be a little ashamed at what his actions had led to, but he wasn't going to run and he wasn't going to fight. He was going to hold his position and dig in for the long haul. Maybe not as the man in her life, but certainly someone in her life whom she valued.

He'd rather die himself than lose her.

So Jack leaned back against the bench, where he'd been before he offered the massage. "Neck better?"

She rubbed it a little, ruefully. "Yes. Thanks."

Nothing had changed. Jack doubted that the things between them ever would. They would lie and deny until the cows came home, and even if the cows came home, they'd still hold each other at arm's length, uncertain of how this relationship should be approached.

And, as they turned the conversation to other topics, slowly overcoming the embarrassment of their earlier behaviour, it occurred to Jack that this was the closest to actually saying anything about their state of relationship that they were ever going to get.

*

Daniel had been expecting a fairly quiet pickup from the Tok'ra contact. The Tok'ra was said to have some rebel Jaffa in their midst, and Daniel had imagined a nice simple, "We've come to take you to Khonsu," greeting, combined with a short trip up in transporter rings, followed by a longer trip to see the Tok'ra-masquerading-as-a-System Lord.

When did he forget the axiom that anything that could go wrong, would?

He certainly remembered it fast enough when the Jaffa started firing on SG-1's position.

In the end, the resistance was token. Jack signalled that they should put up their weapons in tacit admittance of outnumbering as the alkesh ringed down even more Jaffa. They were then herded to the ship for transport up to the mothership that was probably waiting in the atmosphere.

And then it was all up to this Tok'ra Khonsu.

A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers biting into flesh and bone as a Jaffa decided that Daniel was not suitably positioned for transfer into the belly of the alkesh. Daniel jerked his shoulder out from under the Jaffa's harsh grip and settled himself closer to his team-mates, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them as the rings circled down around them and the light beamed them up.

The scent of dust and dirt, so familiar to Daniel after years of grubbing around in it during archaeological digs, clung only briefly to his nostrils before being replaced by the sterile tang of recycled air as they were transported into the alkesh.

Another day, another cell, Daniel thought dryly to himself as they were herded along the corridors of the alkesh for the transit up to the mothership probably hovering in orbit. He chided himself for being whimsical, then decided that whimsical was not all bad - especially given the grim expressions on the faces of the Jaffa.

SG-1 were settled into the alkesh cells with what the Jaffa should have realised was unusual docility. Of course, the Jaffa footsoldiers weren't ones to consider tactics, which was part of their downfall as servants of the Goa'uld. And the idea of psychological profiling of one's enemy was completely out of their realm.

It would be an interesting exercise to write a paper on the differences between human and Jaffa warfare, to look at the cultural indicators that had driven them to their particular modes of weaponry and tactics. Daniel added it to the 'list of things to do' for when they decided that he was better used sitting behind a desk in the SGC rather than out on an exploratory team.

"Stop thinking, Daniel."

Sam and Teal'c promptly glanced over at him, looking for whatever Jack had noticed. Daniel shrugged at Jack. He was in a fairly good temper in spite of the unexpected firefight. "Not much else to do until we reach..." He paused, wondering if the room was bugged. "...our destination," he finished. "Wherever that might be." No point in giving possible listeners any hints if they were suspicious at the ease with which they'd captured the fabled SG-1.

"I knew we should have asked Hammond for the scrabble set," Jack quipped.

Daniel leaned back, slouching against the wall behind the bench on which he and Sam sat. "Too late now." He glanced sideways at Sam as she moved a little, shifting backwards so she wouldn't be slouching against the wall. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, and Daniel resisted the urge to ask if she was okay.

This was Sam's first offworld jaunt since Aegept, and she seemed fine. Of course, Daniel knew perfectly well that she was an excellent 'seemed fine' person. So