ALTERNITY

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Identity badge in hand, Daniel Jackson drove up to the first security gate at the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain, hours early for the start of his workday, rolling down his window to speak the airman on duty there. Before he could open his mouth, the soldier, said, "Dr. Jackson? General Hammond has been trying to contact you; this way please, sir."

Instantly worried because the leader of Star Gate Command wouldn't be looking for him at this time of night unless there was a problem, Daniel got out of his car, surrendering it to another guard to park, and followed yet a third to the emergency access elevator that by-passed the regular check-in routine. Automatically going through the motions for getting clearance, he ran the details of SG1's most recent missions through his mind, but couldn't find one that could be responsible for an urgent summons.

As the elevator began the long descent, Daniel leaned on the wall and sighed, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. At times, he wondered why he bothered to keep off-base quarters at all. Once, it had been a promise to himself that he would find his wife, Sha'uri, and bring her back to Earth with him. Later, he supposed it was a last ditch effort to deny that he was being consumed mind, body, and soul by his duties as part of SGC's first and best team. Now - now, when he was home, Daniel wanted to be on base, working in his laboratory or exploring with Jack and the others. Yet when he was in Cheyenne Mountain, he wanted to be anywhere else, doing anything else.

Not that there were many options for a linguist who had virtually vanished off the face of the planet as far as the academic world was concerned. Daniel hadn't published since returning from Abydos, and after fighting for his life and the existence of the entire human race, taking a job as a teacher in some small college somewhere didn't have much appeal. The business world was a possibility, he supposed, but found it even harder to imagine himself having any interest at all in the petty Machiavellian machinations of the average corporate office.

Fighting down a frustration and sense of futility that was growing increasingly difficult to deny, he was grateful when the elevator door opened, and all but ran for the control room. Hammond and the rest of SG1 glanced over at him as Daniel came in, but the majority of their attention was clearly on the Gate Room. "There you are," the general said. With a gesture at the glass partition, he asked, "Friends of yours, Dr. Jackson?"

Mystified, Daniel stood to one side where he wouldn't be seen, looked through the window at the Star Gate, then blinked in surprise at the change in it. Unconsciously, he stepped closer to the glass, putting a hand on it as if to touch the shimmering surface of the Gate itself. In total defiance of the way he understood it operated, the event horizon was totally still, giving the impression that it was a mirror instead of a pool of quicksilver. The effect was so startling that it took several seconds for him to notice the two men standing in front of it.

A taller man dressed in standard fatigues, wearing the collar brass of a colonel and the patch for SG1, stood behind a smaller, younger man whose apparel Daniel could only call eclectic. The soldier gave the impression of guarding his companion: a mini-Uzi held at ready, vivid blue eyes constantly scanning the area, face expressionless with what Daniel had come to associate as the kind of concentration a really good soldier used when on alert. There was something vaguely familiar about him, about the way he held himself, but Daniel couldn't put his finger on what it was and turned his attention to the other man.

He seemed about ten years younger than his guard; the silver threading its way through the shoulder-length auburn curls decidedly less abundant than nearly total gray of the soldier, and there were fewer lines around his darker blue eyes. There was also a lively enthusiasm in the way he was looking around, as if he expected to see interesting surprises in every corner, not enemies. Adding to the impression of youth was his choice of clothes, which seemed to have been chosen from a variety of historical eras, as if a child had gone through a costume box picking out whatever suited his fancy.

A medieval peasant style shirt was tucked into fringed buckskin pants and topped by a patchwork vest made from brightly colored and luxurious fabrics. Sneakers completed the outfit, and it was complimented in an odd way by a metal circlet encompassing his head, which dipped to a 'v' in the center of the wide brow, holding back the long hair from the visitor's face. It also showed off hoop earrings in one ear, and a feather that had been braided into a lock behind it, tip pointed down as if it were worn by a Native American medicine man.

The earrings made Daniel flip his gaze back up to the soldier. He hadn't been mistaken; there was a small hoop dangling from a pierced lobe, though at the distance he couldn't tell more about it. It was that one bit of unconventionality that triggered his recall, though he couldn't give a rational explanation for it.

"Captain Jim Ellison," he murmured, the memories of learning Chopec customs from the withdrawn man he'd visited in Johns Hopkins coming to the front of his mind.

"Then you do know him," Jack said from right beside him.

Jumping because he hadn't seen his friend and team leader come close, Daniel said, "Well...sort of. But not really... that is...." He waved at the two men below them. "The one I know is only about forty now, and he left the Rangers years ago. Last I heard he'd gone back to his hometown and joined the sheriff's office or police department. Something like that." At the flash of exasperation on O'Neill's face, he added hastily. "So does Sam think the Gate's being used for time travel or does the change to a mirror mean it's somehow being used to cross dimensions?"

"Why does everybody get these things but *me*?" Jack grumbled.

Sam caught Daniel's eye, smiling at the colonel's complaint. "Over an hour ago, the Gate opened, with SG1's signal code being transmitted through it. About the time we recovered from that, those two stepped through and calmly asked to speak to Dr. Daniel Jackson. Other than that, they haven't said anything else, no matter who talks to them."

"Over an hour ago? But that's...."

"Well past the thirty-eight minutes the wormhole is supposed to stay stabilized, I know," Sam cut in.

Noticing something odd about the Gate Room itself, he gestured at it asked, "Aren’t there supposed to be armed troops in there with them?"

"There was an incident," Teal'c said solemnly, coming to stand on Daniel's other side, his view to the Gate Room partly blocked by the wall. "I believe one of the soldiers on duty became un-nerved by both the change in the Gate and the demeanor of the two men that traveled through. He discharged his weapon in an untimely manner."

"Untimely manner?" Daniel raised both eyebrows and directed his question to Jack.

"One of the grunts got spooked, had an itchy trigger finger and loosed a round," Jack translated, grinning at the chance to turn the tables for a change. "Get this; it bounced off of one of those shield thingies that the Ga'ould use for self-defense. Then grampa there started to return fire, but junior stopped him before he could. Seemed like a good idea to pull the troops back to the other side of the door until we get things straightened out, show of good will, sorta."

"Tok'ra?" Daniel asked uncertainly. Studying the unorthodox pair again, he shook his head. The Tok'ra, for all their assertions that the host and renegade Ga'ould shared custody of the body equally, had an air of arrogance and superiority about them that always set his teeth on edge. If anything, the two visitors reminded him of when he first started traveling through the Gate with Jack in search of Apophis and his captives—him continually fascinated by what he found, the colonel forever on guard and looking for danger.

"I don't think so," Sam said from her seat at the control board, doing her own inspection. "It's too far for me to feel for sure, but they just don't look right, if that makes any sense."

"Not to mention the Tok'ra would never wait so patiently," Hammond agreed. "We'd be knee deep in demands by now, otherwise."

Daniel watched the taller man bend slightly to speak quietly into his companion's ear, eyes on the control room as if expecting a reaction from that direction at his actions. The younger man nodded and said something back, smiling. "Well, one way to learn anything," Daniel said suddenly. "Go ask."

He started to leave, but Teal'c blocked his way as Jack laid a restraining hand on his shoulder, and spoke up. "Whoa! Your commanding officers haven't decided that's the plan of action. Besides, there's no reason you can't talk to them from here; it's safer."

"But not very polite," Daniel argued. "Look, whether they're from our future or an alternate universe, they obviously have superior technology on their side. What harm can it do to act as if they're welcome until they prove hostile? Not to mention it'd be odd to simply walk up and knock on the door and ask for me—in a manner of speaking—if they meant to hurt me or something."

"At times," Teal'c said seriously, "the direct approach is the most effective means to attack. Unless you can determine their intent, caution is advisable."

Turning to Hammond, hoping that the general would take his side, Daniel said, "Sir, they haven't offered any violence at all, even when we shot first. What harm can it do to treat this as a diplomatic visit?"

"Dr. Jackson has a point," Hammond agreed reluctantly. "If our visitors are from the future, whatever they need must be critical indeed, to risk changing their entire world just to speak to us. If they're from an alternate, then it's their lives that are at stake because of the temporal distortion caused by two identical people occupying the same universe, as Major Carter reminded us earlier. Either way, a little diplomacy isn't too much to ask."

When Jack started to protest, Hammond held up a hand. "Which doesn't mean that Dr. Jackson goes in unprotected." He nodded at Teal'c. "Go down to the armory and bring up a staff and two zat guns; they have the best chance of getting through a personal shield. Then you and the rest of SG1 will wait outside the door. That'll be close enough to provide assistance *if* necessary."

Before Daniel could express his thanks, the general fixed a stern eye on him. "Which is not to mean, Dr. Jackson, that you forget all caution. Stay back at the bottom of the ramp, and at the first sign of trouble, I want you running as if Apophis, himself, is after you. Do I make myself clear?"

Feeling very much like a scolded kid, but warmed by Hammond's concern regardless, Daniel muttered, "Yes, sir."

"Very well, then. Get to it, people."

While everyone else got into position, Daniel studied the two visitors, not sure what he was looking for but not wanting to miss some clue that would help solve the mystery of when or where they came from. Ellison was talking to his companion again, both of them taking on a subtle air of expectation, as if they knew the wait was over. Frowning, wondering if he were misreading them and how far removed from his Earth they had to be if he were misunderstanding something that simple, he made his way to the corridor outside the Gate Room, waving absently at Hammond when he signaled a go-ahead with a nod.

The silence on the other side of the door was vaguely ominous, but Daniel ignored that perception and concentrated on crossing to the ramp with as much confidence as he could fake. Stopping at the foot of it as ordered, he said blandly, "Hi. You were asking for me?"

Ellison dropped his weapon down to one side, and with an oddly formal gesture that sketched a connection one man to the other, said, "Dr. Blair Sandburg, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson."

As if it were a rehearsed cue, Sandburg stepped forward several paces, smiling graciously. "PhDs in anthropology and Psychology, not a physician."

"Linguistics and anthropology," Daniel replied automatically, feeling absurdly as if he were at a faculty mixer at Oxford. "Which you probably already know," he added as an afterthought.

Sandburg's smile brightened a shade more toward the friendly and away from the official. "The only thing that's ever changed is how many languages you speak," he admitted honestly.

"Really?" Daniel asked curiously. "I'm at twenty-five and counting right now, though it seems I'm always running into a new language I absolutely have to learn."

"Gate travel will do that, even when the DHD is working right and converting language patterns for you," Sandburg agreed.

From behind him, Daniel could almost hear Sam's excited intake of air; they had been speculating forever on why the SG teams had started understanding the language of nearly everyone they met. "The DHD?" he repeated questioningly, hoping to encourage the other man.

Disappointingly, Sandburg shook his head and said, "I'd love to give you more, honestly, but we're working on a tight schedule. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Of course not... but I can't promise I can or will answer them," Daniel said promptly.

"Fair enough. Are you on one of the Star Gate Teams?"

It was hardly what Daniel was expecting, but he didn't see any reason not to answer honestly. "SG1 as a matter of fact."

Surprisingly, Dr. Sandburg's smile brightened even more, but all he said was, "Have you met the Asgards yet - in their true form?"

That one made Daniel glance up to the control room where Hammond was watching the proceedings, and at receiving a go-ahead gesture from him, Daniel said, "Yes, though I wouldn't call us allies; we've helped each other on occasion."

"You've helped them? Then they're beset by the Replicators. Damn." Sandburg looked down at the ground for a moment, shrugged with his hands, and asked, "Has Apophis taken Sokar's forces over, yet?"

"Last year, and he's been occupying himself with securing his position against the other System Lords since. Can I ask why you're asking these particular questions?"

Ignoring Daniel for the moment, Sandburg looked back over his shoulder at his bodyguard. "That's everything the Sams said we should check for. Go or stay?"

Turning in a small circle Ellison surveyed the entire room as if he could see through the walls or read the history of it from the way it was painted. His head was up, nostrils flaring, reminding Daniel of a great beast warily searching for signs of predators. "I don't know," he said finally. "There's something not right, something off that I can't put my finger on."

Acting on a hunch, Daniel said directly to the soldier, "At least tell me why you came. Please?"

Coming down a few steps, Ellison said slowly, "We're not deliberately being a pain in the ass, Dr. Jackson, but what we're trying to do is important, and we're short on time."

He put a hand on the shoulder of Dr. Sandburg, obviously to urge him to leave, and Daniel blurted, "Wait, wait. At least, talk to somebody else, first - General Hammond or Jack O'Neill, one of our scientists, anybody."

The two visitors exchanged a glance, and though Daniel couldn't read what was said in it, one thing was clear by the time Dr. Sandburg looked back at him. Whatever else they were to one another, Sandburg and Ellison were long-time lovers and didn't bother to hide that. Startled, because the Jim Ellison he knew was uncompromisingly straight, he had to haul his attention back to the subject at hand, almost missing Dr. Sandburg's next words.

"It can't hurt, if it's only for a minute. Maybe O'Neill?"

Sandburg sounded as if he wanted to be convinced, and Daniel said hastily, "He's right outside." He half-turned toward the entrance to the Gate Room, intending to call for Jack, but he and the rest of SG1 were already on their way in, Sam pushing to the front. He started to smile at her to tease her for her scientific eagerness, but a flash of motion at the corner of his eye made him spin back toward Ellison.

Weapon on the way up, pushing his companion behind him, Ellison barked, "Jaffar!"

Without thinking, Daniel stepped in front of the gun, hands defensively going up. "Stop! Stop! He's a friend, a teammate!"

Apparently not hearing him, Ellison backed up the ramp, keeping his body between Sandburg and the people frozen at the door. "Jim, no!" Sandburg pushed at the broad back in front of him, not budging his bodyguard in the least. "Daniel says he's a friend!"

"He's Apophis’ First Prime," Ellison growled back, but he halted where he was, gun still at the ready.

"Was, *was*!" Daniel said emphatically. "He's been a member of SG1 nearly from the first, the main reason we weren't over-run by Apophis long ago."

Moving cautiously, Sandburg inched around his bodyguard and laid a restraining hand on his wrist. "That could be it, the missing element we've been looking for. A First Prime would have the kind of information and contacts that could make the difference."

"What kind of Earth, what kind of SGC would befriend a Jaffar!" Jim snapped back. "That's what's wrong with this place; it stinks of Ga'ould!"

"The kind," Jack said defiantly from his place in front of Teal'c, "That knows the difference between an enemy being forced to fight and one who really wants to kill you. Tricky judgment call, I'll give you that, but not impossible."

From where he stood Daniel could clearly see the tension in the trigger finger on the gun, and Ellison didn't look at all convinced by what anyone had had to say. Though Sandburg had apparently decided it was better to urge his companion toward the Star Gate to leave after all, Daniel wasn't at all sure that the soldier wouldn't take a chance to kill a Jaffar if he could. Remembering how deadly accurate the Ellison he knew had been, Daniel sent an apologetic thought his alien teammate's way and said in Quencha, "Please, don't hurt my hunting brother. He owns my heart."

That got through. Ellison shot a single, sharp look his way, and Daniel did his best to meet it openly, hoping the lie of declaring Teal'c was his lover didn't show on his face.

"You claim him and speak for his honor?" Ellison asked shortly, in the same language.

Hiding his relief, Daniel said with pure honesty, "I place his before my own."

From behind him, Jack said irritably, "English, Daniel. English."

Keeping his attention on the hard blue eyes staring into his own, Daniel said, switching back as asked, "English isn't necessarily the best language to use in this case, Jack."

"Jim," Sandburg said urgently, "He's right. Use the language you know best and *look* at them."

As if compelled by the order himself, Daniel looked over his shoulder at his teammates, but didn't see anything that he hadn't expected to see. Jack and Sam were standing in front of Teal'c, weapons poised, their determination to defend him clear. His Jaffar friend was wearing his most impassive expression, his pained resignation at the necessity of letting others fight for him showing only to those who knew how to read him. Daniel noticed distractedly but with pleasure that several of the guards had stepped close as well, to give their support, and gave his attention back to his visitors.

Ellison slowly lowered his gun, the muscle in the right side of his jaw bouncing from some emotion. "And you think it could be the reason?" he asked his companion.

"Reason for what, son?" Hammond asked, coming into the Gate Room and calmly joining Daniel.

Carefully letting his weapon droop until it was butt up, the colonel extended it toward Hammond. "The reason why this Earth hasn't been burned to a cinder, like every other earth that we've seen that was in the new millennium."

"Including our own," Dr. Sandburg said tiredly.

"You're refugees, then?" Hammond kept his face neutral, and took the gun.

"More like missionaries," Sandburg corrected. He slowly, carefully, took a small handgun from a shoulder holster under his vest, and like his companion, surrendered it to General Hammond. "Our Earth fought the Ga'ould for a long, long time. We learned things, developed weapons and techniques, made allies - ultimately we lost, yes, but that doesn't mean we want the knowledge to vanish. Like the remaining SG Teams of our universe, Colonel Ellison and I have been hopping from alternity to alternity, trying to find the one that could use it best. I'm really, seriously hoping it's this one. The temporal distortion is accumulative."

"Understood," Hammond said. He added surprisingly gently, "You'll forgive us, but you're going to have to undergo standard decon procedures before we can talk any further. We've had far too many close calls with Ga'ould sabotage tactics to take you at face value without it."

"Yes, sir," Ellison agreed, his attitude saying he hadn't expected anything less.

Echoing him, Sandburg started down the ramp, but before either of them could take more than a step, the general asked, "The Gate, gentlemen?"

"As long as we're here, it'll stay like that," Ellison said flatly. "Anybody off planet can still dial in, but for the time being, no one can dial out. It also stops the iris from closing, but if the wrong person tries to come through, we can very easily arrange a nasty surprise."

"Very well." It was clear that Hammond didn't like that, but wasn't going to make an issue of it just yet. "Dr. Jackson, will you accompany our guests to the infirmary? Teal'c will go as well; perhaps if they see for themselves how valuable his expertise can be, it will help put their minds at ease."

From the sudden increase of tension radiating off both men in front of him, Daniel didn't know if that was such a good idea, but he knew better than to argue with Hammond this time. The real reason the general wanted Teal'c with them was most likely because, if this was some sort of elaborate Ga'ould scheme, the Jaffar had the best chance of both discovering and disarming it. When Hammond moved aside to walk on the other side of them, Daniel obeyed the implied order and started for the infirmary. Knowing Ellison's temper, he couldn't help but worry on the way how many times he would end up playing peacemaker before the day was over.

* * *

Whether it was called an infirmary, a sickbay or a hospital, one thing was certain as far as Jim was concerned: he hated them all. He hated the smell, hated the nonstop buzz and beep of the multitude of machinery, hated the way patients were treated as meat on the hoof. He especially hated them when he was hurting, like now, pain making his senses and instincts hard to control. Constant exposure to hospitals hadn't helped a bit, and he sat on the edge of examination table, clenching the metal frame to keep himself from simply walking out. Or ripping the place to pieces.

Making his misery complete was the damned Jaffar that was part of this universe's SGC; he was at the only way in or out of the place, putting Jim's hackles on permanent alert. But for Daniel's sake, who was hovering close to his elbow and trying not look worried, Jim might have said or done something rash. Thankfully, Blair was instinctively keeping well within reach, and staying on the side of Jim that was farthest from the Jaffar, satisfying the powerful innate need to protect him.

Or maybe it wasn’t so instinctive on Blair’s part. Occasionally, as the tests and exams progressed, his mate found reasons to touch Jim, or to get in his personal space, and each time the soothing reality of him decreased the sentinel's tension a notch, easing his pain. And, as usual, Blair was doing his best to make the situation on both sides a little easier, too, using practically non-stop questions and observations.

The tactic captured both Major Carter and Dr. Fraiser, keeping them at his side in a way that would have made Jim jealous in another time. As it was, he couldn't help glaring at them, despite the Jaffar's displeasure with it. Apparently oblivious, Blair said seriously as Fraiser took a blood sample, "You're going to find some odd things in that. The antigens we use to help the body maintain itself, antibodies for diseases you haven't encountered yet, the traces of my Last Defense, some other stuff."

"Last Defense?" Carter asked, holding the blood vial up to the light as if she expected to see it with her naked eyes.

"To stop a Ga'ould from using my body," Blair explained. "Everyone that carries critical information or skills has it injected. One hundred percent voluntarily, in case you're worried. If the parasite enters my body, the chemicals in my blood stream react to its presence and create a toxin deadly to both it and me. No antidote."

That drew Daniel into the conversation. "So you can't be used as a host or as a Jaffar?"

"That was the idea," Jim answered for his partner.

"Can I have the injection?" Daniel and O'Neill asked almost simultaneously.

Blair bent up his arm to stop the bleeding from the needle. "Fraiser will want to run tests on it, but I'll give you the formula right now, if you want."

Instantly three pens were offered to him, making Blair chuckle. Taking out his light-pen from the belt pouch that had been returned after they had been searched, he said, "I'll put it on the wall so everybody can see. The light effect lasts about a week unless you deliberately disrupt it. May as well add the basic antigen formula." As he spoke he sketched a molecular structure on the wall nearest him with something that looked very much like a dancing dot of laser light.

"Neat toy," O'Neill quipped. "Got one for me?"

"Going to leave a few phone numbers on the latrine walls?" Blair shot back with a grin.

"Hey, it's a community service. What did you say yours was again?"

Jim heard his warning rumble before he was aware he was going to do it, and while he killed the sound as fast as he could, Daniel obviously heard him. Nervously, the linguist ran his left thumb over his fingers, then said, "I feel I have to warn you...."

"Daniel," O'Neill cautioned.

"A personal one, Jack," he defended quickly in irritation. "While they're here they deserve to be warned of any social pitfalls they could fall into. Or do you think it's right to let them innocently do something we find offensive?"

O'Neill subsided reluctantly, shoulders hunching a little to show his annoyance. "I suppose you have a point."

"Thank you," Daniel said sarcastically. Despite the permission, he hesitated. "Our culture has very strong prejudices against homosexuality," he said finally, bluntly, apparently not knowing how else to approach the subject. "While it's not out-and-out illegal, the social prohibitions against it are so strong that a person can get away with murder under the right circumstances if the victim was gay. Most practicing homosexuals hide what they are. We call it being in the closet."

Jim didn't try to prevent his grimace, but said as calmly as he could, "Daniel, Blair and I have been married longer than you've been alive. I'm not about to try to hide that, especially not now. If your people have a problem with it, tough, they're going to have to deal. There are much, much bigger problems here to worry about than what two people do in the bedroom."

Walking over to them and taking his mate's hand, Blair added, "If you're worried about us... it's not like we haven't had to face bigotry before. Where we come from we've had our share of trouble - and yes, I mean the lethal kind - because of religion. I'm Jewish and Jim's Catholic and in our world never shall the twain meet. He's been excommunicated and my mother sat *shiva* for me."

At the echoes of the ancient pain from when Naomi had declared her son dead to her, Jim drew Blair close to his side, thumb smoothing over his cheek as if to dry a tear, then over his lower lip as if to capture a stolen kiss. In their private, silent language it meant, 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you.' Eyes closed, Blair leaned into the palm nearest his cheek, then brought up their joined hands to kiss their marriage bracelets, first his own on his left wrist, then Jim's on his right. 'Love you, too' and 'Worth it, always.'

At the sight of the dark lines edging both bands, Jim had to fight the need to pull his mate into his arms and find some privacy, mission be damned. Before he could so much as clench his teeth in frustration, Carter said into the dead silence that had surrounded them since Daniel's warning, "Wait a minute... longer than *Daniel's* been alive? Just how old *are* you?"

With obvious reluctance, Blair turned back toward the scientist, though he stayed in the circle of Jim's arms. "We don't know exactly since we lost track of the days during the Last Stand for our Earth. But Jim's eighty-six or seven. I'm about ten years younger."

"How's that possible?" Fraiser blurted. "Neither of you look it, and frankly, so far the exam is showing bodies that belong to men in their prime."

"The antigens I mentioned...."

Jim tuned out his partner's explanations, his focus shifting abruptly to Daniel, who looked positively miserable, though he was hiding his expression by dropping his head. The thought chased across his mind that this doppleganger of the man he had known so well had been trying to do more than warn him of a possible danger. He'd been warning that he was in the same danger. It explained why Daniel had used an obscure language to make his claim on the Jaffar, and why, despite the declaration, there wasn't the slightest sensory sign of a relationship.

It was even possible that there wasn't one, and that it was all longing on Daniel's part. Without intending to, Jim slanted a glance over at the Jaffar, who, despite giving the impression of being aware of everything that was going on in the room, was staring at him, menace clear in the gaze. Jim didn't have to wonder what it meant. Though he was on the other side of it, he knew that it was the same glower he used when he was in pure guardian mode. Against his will, a measure of his genetically deep-seated distrust and dislike for this particular Jaffar was reduced.

"Daniel," he said softly, hesitantly. "From what we've seen, the coating of a person changes - my counterparts have been cops, forest rangers, doctors, even a priest once - but the core person remains the same. If you're an honest man in one, you're an honest man in all of them. I don't know how you came to know your James Ellison, but if you trusted him, you can trust me. I swear."

It was the closest Jim could come to promising out loud that he wouldn't betray the confidence Daniel had been forced to give him, but it seemed to be enough. The linguist raised his head and offered a small smile that barely hid relief. "That's a frightening thought; an infinite progression of James Ellisons, all of them crabby bastards."

"Be afraid," Jim intoned, mock-dramatically. "Be very afraid." A snerk from his side told him that his mate had been listening with half-an ear to the exchange, but he didn't offer up a comment. Fraiser came over to finish her examination, shooing Daniel to the other side of the room, and Blair back to his own poking and prodding. At her command, Jim stripped off his tee shirt, and automatically went through the routine of breathe and cough.

It aggravated his injury and to mentally distance himself from it, he thought about his alternate on this world, acknowledging the very distant, barely tangible tug of another sentinel on his senses. Faint though it was, it was enough for him to know that the Ellison of this world was fully functional, equal to him in power, which meant he had his Sandburg by his side in one guise or another. As mates and lovers, he sincerely hoped for their sakes. After the many, many permutations he had seen of sentinel and adept, though, he knew it wasn't always possible to overcome whatever difficulties that could lie between them, blocking a pure union such as the one he and Blair had.

Running his left fingers over the marriage band on his right wrist, sensitive tips feeling where the quasi-life of it was gradually fading to inert metal along the rims, he pitied the poor bastard if he was trying to make it on obligation or friendship.

"I know you're going to get tired of hearing this phrase from us," Fraiser said, "but I've never seen a metal like that; it looks like gold-plated platinum that's been acid washed so random patterns of the platinum show. What is it?"

"Crystallized nacquada," Jim answered absently. "Bonded to my flesh, so don't try to pry it up for a peek under."

"Didn't that hurt?!" she blurted.

"Didn't feel a thing," Jim answered honestly, the memory of the pleasure at their joining still intense. He flinched as her fingers probed at the minor seeming wound on his left shoulder. "That, on the other hand," he joked weakly, "hurts like a bitch. Do me a favor and leave it alone."

"What caused it?" she asked, deftly touching the immediate area around it. "It's almost like a second-degree burn, but the blisters are so tiny."

"May I, Dr. Fraiser?" Teal'c asked unexpectedly.

Jim sat up straighter, fighting the urge to reach for a weapon—any weapon. "It doesn't matter," he said flatly.

"That's for me to judge," she snapped. "Teal'c?"

The huge man approached cautiously, keeping his hands where Jim could see them. Even when he stood to one side to see the wound, he kept a reasonable distance, and his care added to the sentinel's slowly growing respect for the warrior. "It is a wound from a trizatas," he said, catching and holding Jim's eyes, a question clear in the dark depths.

Clenching his teeth, Jim expressionlessly met the stare, not sure what he would do if the Jaffar told the doctor everything. She asked, "How do I treat it?"

"There is no prescribed treatment," Teal'c said, and at his words Jim relaxed fractionally.

Closing his eyes for a brief second, a minor show of trust that he was willing to bet the Jaffar understood immediately, Jim opened them again and said, "It hurts, but I've learned ways to control pain over the years. Since all I can do is let it go its course, there's no reason to concern yourself with it."

Typically, Fraiser didn't take his word for it, but looked at Teal'c for a confirmation. "It is of no consequence to the matters at hand," he answered her unspoken question.

"Do you want a layer of padding so your clothing doesn't irritate it?"

Shoving down his relief that she wasn't going to investigate further, Jim said, "Sounds good."

To Jim's considerable surprise, the Jaffar inclined his head respectfully, then returned to guard duty by the door, his demeanor considerably less threatening. Daniel had worriedly watched their by-play and started to ask a question, but subsided, obviously not sure what to ask. That suited Jim; he didn't know what to make of it either.

But for whatever reason, the atmosphere in the infirmary improved considerably, making the rest of their stay there relatively easier. The wait for the test results was surprisingly short, and Fraiser gave them an all clear to meet General Hammond in the briefing room. As Jim was buttoning up his outer-most shirt, he felt the shimmer of sensation over his skin that meant Blair was about to get hit with a dimensional cascade. Vaulting the table between them, not giving a shit about the weapons suddenly leveling at him, he got both arms around his mate just as the full effect hit.

Though the convulsion only lasted a few seconds, it felt like hours, and it was by far the worst either of them had had to suffer through. It was so intense, his mate couldn't even cry out his agony, and all Jim could do was offer him the support of his own body as muscles locked and nerves screamed. When it was over, Jim sank to the floor, letting Blair pant into the curve of his neck while he recovered. Both Fraiser and Carter were on either side of them, doing medical or scientific things, but he only held on until Blair gave him a thump on his arm to tell him that it was time to let go.

With a blatant squeeze to say clearly he didn't want to, Jim did so, anyway, and stood, startled to find O’Neill on one side supporting Blair and Teal’c behind him to lend a hand. "Like we said, the effect is accumulative. More times you’ve been through the mirror, the worse it gets." Pain and frustration made him sound sharp and angry, but no one seemed to notice.

"How much of that can you stand?" Jack asked seriously.

"As much as we have to," Blair said flatly. "As much as we have to."

* * *

Cascade, Washington

Detective Jim Ellison was halfway down the stairs that led from his loft bedroom before he was awake enough to know that he was moving. Gun in hand, he headed straight for his partner's room, not even knowing why he had to get there, only that he would go through anything or anyone that tried to get in his way. A heartbeat later, nearly at the door, he could hear Blair's breathing change and caught a subtle shift in scent that he associated with his roomie being in pain. His senses told him that no one else was in their apartment, and he lowered his weapon a bit, reaching for the handle to the French door as a sudden flurry of sounds indicating motion inside hit his ears.

That fractional warning was all he had; a split second later, Blair hurled himself through the door, stumbling into his partner and automatically throwing up his hands to catch himself before he fell, latching onto Jim's arms just above the elbow. Jim returned the grip as best he could with one hand occupied.

"Sandburg! What?" he demanded.

"Jim! Where'd you come from?" Blair asked in confusion, eyes blinking as he tried to adjust to the early morning light.

"The stork brought me," he snapped. "A better question might be where you're going in such a hurry dressed in just your skivvies."

"Going?" Slowly, Blair looked around the room, taking it in as if he'd never seen it before. "Pain," he muttered thoughtfully. "I was hurting, like someone dipped me in fire, and I had to, I had to...." His voice trailed off uncertainly. "Did I scream or something?"

"No.... I...." Jim stopped, not sure how to explain. There was something tugging at him, disturbing his senses in a way that he could hardly perceive, let alone describe.

"Jim?" Trying to ease away, Blair released his hold, but Jim tightened his own.

"No, stay," he ordered, trying not to bite out the words. Fighting to keep his tone reasonable, he added, "Last time things got weird I pushed you away when I should have gathered you in close. That's one mistake I don't want to repeat."

"Dreams?" Relaxing, Blair put his hands back where they had been, and with a grateful sigh, leaned into him, beginning to shake slightly in delayed reaction.

Jim considered the quietly spoken question, his free hand stroking soothingly up and down his partner's back, but finally shook his head. "Not a dream. Just, just a feeling that I don't have a name for, but it's connected to you somehow."

"What do you want to do?" The question was slightly muffled; Blair had his forehead pressed into Jim's sternum, and he began to gradually regulate his breathing.

The answer came instantly to his lips. "Stay with you." He felt his partner's grimace, and added, "I'll call in; that way you won't have to cancel any of your tutoring sessions."

Though he could tell that he had just startled his partner, Jim knew that Blair was counting on the income from his students to help him make it financially until he did his time at the Academy and officially joined the department. He was more than willing to help his roomie with money, but Blair's pride wouldn't let him ask, and if there was any human motivation that Jim understood without trying, it was pride. Not that he liked not being able to do more than sneak in what assistance he could, ("Forgot it was your turn to do the shopping, Chief."); he just had no trouble understanding why his partner was prickly on the subject.

"Whoa... Jim Ellison voluntarily using personal time?" Blair joked, apparently to cover his surprise. "Simon will want to know what I drugged you with."

With a reluctant half-smile, Jim said, "I'll just tell him it's the sentinel thing again. He'll chomp down on his cigar and tell me not to even think about showing up at work until we've got it clear." Almost as an after thought, he added, "You okay with this, Chief?"

With a deep sigh, Blair said in a mixture of relief and weariness, "Okay with life getting strange again? No. Okay with you doing the guardian angel bit again? Mostly. Okay with you finally getting the message that I'm the person you're *supposed* to turn to when your senses go haywire? Definitely." He pulled away to go back into his room, his reluctance to leave the security of Jim's loose embrace apparent.

Just as reluctant to let him go, and masochistically wanting to ask how Blair felt about the near-naked hugging part, too, Jim made himself turn to go back upstairs to get dressed. "Since we're up already, want to go to Louie's for breakfast, my treat? I've got a taste for his waffles all of a sudden." Catching the sudden sly gleam in his partner's eyes, he added quickly, "And no, I don't think it has anything to do with what just happened."

"Hey, if we don't speculate, we'll stay in the dark," Blair shot over his shoulder. Then he shut his door before Jim could make a comeback, not that he had one ready. It was good to see the scholar in his friend peeking out again, surprisingly so, and, resolving to put up only a token fight against any tests that the fertile mind of his partner could come up with, Jim went upstairs, unaware he was grinning.

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Though Daniel tried to look as if he were paying attention while Janet and Sam filled General Hammond in on their discoveries, his mind kept wandering back to the brief moment of intimacy he had witnessed between their guests. Not so much the gentle touches themselves, but the sense that there was something that accompanied those touches kept nagging at him, as if they were a language that he could translate if he only studied them long enough.

Or maybe the message was in the way everyone else reacted. Given that he was on a military base, he fully expected more than one grimace of disgust, if not thinly veiled hatred. But all he had seen was the normal embarrassment that people felt when they inadvertently spied during an emotional moment. In fact, Janet and Sam had had to hide what he was willing to swear were slightly envious smiles.

All he was really sure of was that he was missing something, something important, and the brief exchange between Teal'c and Jim Ellison seemed to underline that in an obscure way. Shifting restlessly in his seat, picking out ‘...despite a wide variety of scars and old traumas, in better shape that most thirty year old men....' from Janet's briefing, Daniel realized unhappily that if his Jaffar friend and the alternate Ellison were going to be on speaking terms with each other, he was going to have to confess to his teammate about the lie he'd told to protect him. Unhappily, he fidgeted with a pencil, trying to imagine how that conversation could be anything but disastrous.

A nudge at his foot from Jack jerked Daniel back to the briefing in time to hear Sam say, "The only two anomalies, outside of the elements in the blood that we were told about in advance, and which we're having our technicians do a blind double check on, are the crystallized naquada bands on their wrists and the circlet of the same material Dr. Sandburg wears. The wristbands are bonded somehow to their arms, but the circlet is removable, admittedly reluctantly on Dr. Sandburg’s part. They were both willing to let us perform whatever tests we wished, which tells me that if they have anything to hide, it isn't connected to them."

"Your conclusions, Doctor?" Hammond asked.

Janet and Sam exchanged a glance, then, apparently speaking for both of them, Sam said, "As far as we can determine, they are exactly who they say they are. Two humans from a different Earth which seems to be ahead of our own, time-wise. The hints of differences in technology, while advanced, are not beyond what we might reach on our own given another fifty or so years worth of research. There is no indication of Ga'ould tampering, either in them physically or in the technology they brought with them."

"I see." Hammond swung around to face the rest of the table, and addressed the other members of the team. "Any comments?"

"Given their reaction to Teal'c," Daniel found himself volunteering, "they're either true enemies of the Ga'ould or giving a performance worthy of an Oscar."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Ellison's reaction to a Jaffar was damn near instinctive. I've never seen anybody react to a threat so fast."

Daniel saw the smallest of frowns appear on Teal'c's face, as if their colonel's words gave him pause in some way. Once again, the feeling that there was something he was missing hit Daniel, but before he could even begin to formulate a question, Hammond gestured at the guards at the door to let their guests enter.

Dr. Sandburg came in first, wearing a friendly smile, with Ellison right at his elbow, patently ignoring their ever-present guards. The Ranger swept a salute at Hammond, who seemed vaguely startled but returned it. They seated themselves, and the general said, "I believe, gentlemen, the floor is yours, for the time being, at least."

"Thank you," Dr. Sandburg said graciously, reaching for his belt pouch. It had been searched as a matter of course, turning up the oddest selection of items imaginable, none of which could be construed in the slightest way as weapons. He took out one that Daniel had particularly wondered why anyone would carry—a crepe paper ball that could be collapsed down to a thin wedge, or opened out to a three-dimensional honeycombed sphere.

Shrugging a little apologetically, Sandburg said, "A visual aid, if you don't mind. It helps."

Without meaning to, Daniel looked down the table at Jack, as did everyone else in the room. "What?" the colonel said irritably.

"Never mind, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said for all of them, his own smile barely visible. "Go on, doctor."

Holding up the cardboard edge of the flattened sphere, Dr Sandburg ran a fingertip along it. "This is your Earth, or mine, or any other alternate universe. There is an infinite number of them, just like this universe itself is infinite." Sam nodded, as did Daniel, who had done some superficial research on the subject. "It moves past through present, and I'm sure that by now you've discovered that you can use the Star Gate to go backward or forward in time. If you have, you've also very wisely done your best not to change your history. We've opened the mirror onto some worlds that are blank - complete voids. Our scientists say that it was the result of trying to absorb too large a change in the time-line."

Across from him Daniel saw Sam close her eyes in relief that she had been listened to when she had insisted they change nothing when they were in their past. With an atavistic shudder, he whispered, "Remind me not to argue with you when you're laying down the scientific law, okay?"

With a small grin, she nodded, and they both hushed before Hammond could order them to. Apparently catching the by-play, Dr. Sandburg grinned as well, but all he did was go on with his lecture. "However," he opened the honeycomb ball and this time ran a finger tip over one fragile line of paper, "though they're infinite in number, the alternate universes intersect only in given spots on their individual time lines, and remain consistent to each other. If we were to go back to our home universe, the same amount of time that we've experienced while we were in other alternities would be the duration that we had been absent from our own. The important thing to know is that the farther out you are from your 'home' universe, the greater the cultural and historical disparity between it and the new one, *including the apparent time.*"

"Let me get this straight," Sam said. "The Quantum Mirrors only connect at specific points, so you can't reach *all* the possible alternates, and like that ball, they all fan out in all dimensions, with greater and greater gaps in similarity and congruity?"

Nodding, Sandburg collapsed the ball and put it on the table in front of him. "In our universe, Apophis over-ran earth about fifteen years ago, forcing the Tah'Ree to become refugees on a dozen different planets. As if that wasn't revenge enough for what we did to him, he's made a hobby of hunting down our little colonies and destroying them. Of the quarter million that initially escaped, only about ten thousand still survive, all in deep hiding, rarely making contact with one another. To put it bluntly, we're nearly extinct."

For a moment, he looked unbearably sad, and Daniel had to wonder at the progression of lost family, friends and colleagues that were crossing his mind. "After our last battle with Apophis, there were so few fighters left that we realized that we were running out of options, and we didn't want to just vanish without a whimper, as if we never fought at all."

"Here, here," Jack said softly.

He was ignored, and Dr. Sandburg went on, "Our Sams suggested using the Quantum Mirror to travel far enough 'out' to find an Earth that was just beginning its fight with Apophis and help them win by giving them everything we've learned over the years. If we could find the right combination of factors, added to our information, it could mean that in one universe, at least, we would defeat the Ga'ould."

"And a 'Daniel Jackson' is one of those elements?" Teal'c asked unexpectedly.

"He's been present as a member of the SGC in some capacity or another in *every* alternate where Apophis was held off for any significant length of time. Why? Damned if we know," Sandburg admitted.

"That's why you were asking about the Asgards and Sokar," Daniel said.

"Yes; there were some minor things we know of that can help—do you have a quantum physicist named Sam Beckett on this Earth?" Sandburg directed the question to Carter, and she nodded.

"He died four or five ago, though," she said. "A great loss; his work with quantum physics is the basis for much of what we know about the subject now. I've wished I could consult with him more than once."

Dr. Sandburg nodded; it was clear he'd expected that answer. "He lived in ours—one of the few alternities where he did, for some reason—and did work with you. Between the pair of you, we gained enough of a technological edge to hold out as long as we did."

"Our Sams," Daniel murmured.

"We tried calling them Sam One and Sam Two, but that sounded so Dr. Seuss that Dr. Beckett once said he might as well go by SamIam," Dr. Sandburg laughed. "From the book *Green Eggs and Ham.*"

"So what's the catch?" Jack asked before the amused smiles died completely. "And don't tell me there isn't one. Humans, especially ones with their back to the wall, aren't that generous."

Though he expected at least irritation, their visitors traded a knowing grin, telling Daniel that they had anticipated the question - and the source. Sure enough, Colonel Ellison spoke up for the first time. "Of course there's a catch. But it's a reasonable one, and we don't have any way to enforce it. As far as we're concerned, *any* way we can hurt *any* Apophis or the System Lords of *any* universe is a good thing, worth this last effort."

"And the catch is...." Jack said stubbornly, letting his voice trail up to make it an impatient question.

"Actually, two big ones and one small one," Sandburg admitted cheerfully. Before O'Neill could snap out a smart remark, he added, "You have to do the same thing we're doing. If and when you beat Apophis, or he has obviously beaten you, look at why he did or what you could have done to change it, and take what we've given you to another alternity. Maybe that one will be the one that finally does it."

"Like antibodies," Daniel murmured, then added loudly when Dr. Sandburg stared at him. "If we succeed, and teach other universes to succeed, maybe eventually the defeat of the Ga'ould will spread to the alternates where they destroyed Earth."

"Can you think of a better legacy?" Ellison asked softly, eyes on Jack.

That startled Jack into thinking, and he kept quiet when Dr. Sandburg went on. "The other thing is trickier, but once you have a chance to think about it, we're hoping you'll understand. All the information we give you—it can't be classified top secret and hidden away from everyone except a few cloistered U.S. scientists. We don't care how you share it, but it *has* to be disseminated."

Daniel didn't have to think about it for very long, and his eyes widened. If he had had any doubt that these men were trying to help them, it vanished when he realized they were trying to keep their gift from being misused, and he asked hastily, "And the third?"

Instantly, he knew that the partners didn't agree on this last condition, though he couldn't point to how he knew, and he shoved away his frustration yet again. But Sandburg said with a shrug, "It's a personal request. Keep our alternates out of this. Don't do a computer search and find out where they are and what they're doing, don't make any inquiries to the right authorities, don't even call directory information and find their phone numbers. Leave them alone."

"Whatever for?" General Hammond asked, apparently speaking for the others in the room. "I might be jumping to conclusions here, but it seems to me that if Colonel Ellison is the team leader for your SG1, your presence has to be one of the factors you should be looking for."

"Our O'Neill and Jackson died holding the Gate for refugees during the Last Stand," Ellison said flatly. "We only replaced them because it was Jack's last order to us. I have no objection to serving, but I doubt my counterpart would be as willing. I was in a position to do it on my own terms, thanks to Jack, and this world's Ellison doesn't have that leverage. If you called him to duty, he would have to come and then probably die the first time he went into battle. If he's anywhere near where I was at this same time, he's lost what it takes to survive in combat."

For a moment Sandburg looked stubborn, Daniel thought, as if he had something to say on the subject, but he remained silent at a sharp glance from his partner. Jack stepped into the gap, saying skeptically, "You know we want some kind of proof other than a single toy that you can make good on what you're promising."

"Done," Ellison said, calmly. From a shirt pocket he took out a small tube that he had said was a map, and set it upright in front of him. "We know where Apophis' shipyard and primary source of nacquada is - Sokar's originally - what its defenses are and how to penetrate them. By the time we learned this, his fleet was too large to be effected much by the destruction of Agaeis Prime; he had more than enough resources to maintain himself while he rebuilt. But here, if he's just taken Sokar's fleet and has lost ships and weapons trying to consolidate his position with the System Lords, losing the shipyard would be a crippling blow."

Teal'c sat up straighter, leaning forward to say intently, "That is a very closely guarded secret; it is said that only Sokar, himself, knew the coordinates for the Star Gate there."

"A Tok’ra named Jolinar paid a very, very high price for that information," Ellison said. "She never would say exactly how she found out, but it was accurate for us, and given the peculiarities of the system the shipyard is in that he counted on for its defense, we are nearly certain it will be here, too."

At the mention of Jolinar, Sam had looked shocked as Daniel felt and stared at Ellison. He noticed, and said slowly, "You know the name, and you've had a Ga'ould in you.... She took you?"

"Yes, but how...."

Shaking his head, he said, "That's part of what you'll learn later. For now, do you want the location?"

"Yes, of course," Hammond said, dragging the conversation back where it belonged.

At his agreement, Ellison fingered the side of the small tube, and a swirl of darkness came out of it, blanking the lighting in the room, making a backdrop for the stars that fell into formations all around the room. In the stunned hush Sandburg said, "See this system here? Agaeis Prime." A dot of light from his light-pen touched one star, and it expanded to show the planets surrounding it. It was clear that the entire system was being drawn into a distant black hole, but that the star itself had collapsed in the not-too-recent galactic past, creating a counter force to the singularity. The result was a mad swirl of eddies and currents of planetary debris around a single world, making it a small, stable island in the midst of a mad ocean of stellar reefs. The effect was dizzying, and Daniel had to close his eyes for a moment, shutting out the hologram surrounding them.

"It’s hard to approach the system without getting torn into bits by the gravitational anomalies, not to mention all the asteroids pounding away at your defensive shields," Dr. Sandburg said. "Direct attack is virtually impossible."

Taking up the explanation, Ellison added, "We've learned that since the Ga'ould don't want slaves to learn too much about where their 'gods' really get their power, and they don't trust their own kind any farther than they trust us, the number of workmen with the necessary skills to build a mother ship is relatively low. A small population on a small base makes is easier to control and to hide, but most System Lords are still forced to either trade with someone like Sokar - or Apophis now - or to share labor. Apophis keeps his workers at the shipyard or mine, with no outside contact, no chance of leaving alive. Even necessary supplies and new slaves are simply dropped in by drones making a one-way trip. To top it all off, the Gate is kept face down unless a signal is sent that he's planning a visit."

"And you know that signal," Hammond said.

"And have the layout, complete with the location of the power plants." Ellison hesitated, then added, "Our analysis suggests that the best strike would be to the living quarters of the workers as well as the power plant."

"You're not suggesting...." Daniel started to say as the hologram faded, allowing the room's normal light to banish it.

"No, we're not," Sandburg said firmly. "To a certain extent, we have to trust you, too, to make your own decisions about what to do with the intelligence we give you. We can't disavow our responsibility in sharing, but ultimately, the choices are yours."

Picking up the tube that had been the source of the map, Ellison reached over the table to give it to General Hammond. "There are three notches in the side; one to activate—it has a three minute delay before automatically turning off. Next down to deactivate if you want to shut down earlier than that, the bottom switches from map to map. The light pen commands the hologram to enlarge or shrink. We'll give you a list of the maps programmed in."

Before Hammond could take the device, Jack intercepted it, turning his seat so that his body was shielding Hammond. "Let me try that first." Visibly wincing, he triggered the 'on', then the directory, causing a sickeningly rapid flicker of stars around them, then the ‘off’ switch.

The lights came back to find Hammond staring at him in annoyance, and both visitors smirking knowingly. "Let me guess," Daniel said dryly. "You knew he was going to do that."

"Some things," Ellison answered, equally dryly, "Never change."

Jack glared everyone into silence, which lingered for a moment, then Hammond stepped into it decisively. "Dr. Sandburg, Colonel Ellison, it's clear that my team and I have a great deal to discuss privately, and then I'll brief the President on all this. In the meantime, please make yourselves comfortable in our guest quarters; you have discretionary use of base facilities. Dismissed, gentlemen."

Both Ellison and Sandburg nodded, as if expecting Hammond's decision or a variation of it, making Daniel wonder exactly how many times they'd had this conversation in one form or another. Maybe that was why it felt like he was missing something; he literally was—the many repetitions of same experience their visitors had had. With their guard trailing after them, they left for visitor quarters in another part of the base, and Hammond waited until they were gone before turning back to SG1 and Dr. Fraiser.

"Recommendations?" he asked.

"Actually I have a question, first," Jack said. "Do we really believe those two?"

"Yes," Daniel said instantly. "I do."

Everyone stared at him, and he had to fight not to stammer and sputter his way through his explanation, though it was hardly the first time he'd had to voice a dissenting opinion. "Their second condition.... about not keeping the technology to ourselves? The easiest and least expensive way for any of the System Lords to defeat us would be if we destroyed ourselves. Can you imagine what would happen if, say for instance, the only people who had access to the life-extending formula that Dr. Sandburg wrote on the wall, where *everybody* could see it, was the military? Or the rich? Then the common man found out about it?"

"Civil war, at the very least," Hammond said tiredly.

"Think about the Native American Indians," Daniel said urgently. "The tribes that prospered at first were those who gained the advantages of European advances, like the rifle. But that allowed the dissension and distrust that had always existed between the tribes to grow, so at a time when they had the superior numbers to drive out the settlers, they were fighting with each other. By the time they realized they had a common problem, a common enemy, it was too late. They'd lost their lands and much of their population."

"Dr. Jackson, you do understand you are making a very powerful argument for sending them back through the mirror Gate right now," Hammond warned.

"I know, I know... and it might be the best thing to do," Daniel said, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. "But Jack wanted to know if I believed them."

"Actually, sir, I do, too," Sam put in. "For a different reason."

"Carter?" Jack asked, clearly surprised.

"Because of this." She reached over the table and snagged the map generator from him, turning it up so that everyone could see it. "If Daniel's job is to look at civilizations and determine if they have any resemblance to the ancient ones here on Earth, part of *my* job is to look at the technology and analyze it. I *know* human work, and this, like the light pen I examined along with it earlier, was made by humans. Specifically, earth humans. This could have come from my laboratory; it's small, precisely functional, built for a specific hand grip for use in the field. I am certain the Ga'ould had no hand in making it."

"Point taken," General Hammond said. "Any one else?"

"I believe Colonel Ellison to be an honorable man," Teal'c said calmly. "The contempt that all Ga'ould agents have for rebelling slaves could not exist within such an individual."

"Teal'c, it may have escaped your notice, but that honorable man tried to kill you at first sight," Jack said sharply.

"He was targeting a Jaffar who represented a threat to his mission and his mate," Teal'c all but intoned. "I would have acted no differently."

"We all know that there is a tendency for soldiers to develop a shoot first mentality," General Hammond agreed, "When dealing with a long-term enemy. If Teal'c doesn't hold it against Colonel Ellison, we shouldn't either."

Jack took the map device back from Sam, looking into the barrel of it and frowning, as if he could see the microscopic workings. "Well, yeah, I guess. Thing is..." He stopped and gingerly set the generator down, as if afraid he would break it. "Thing is, I think they're telling the truth, too." He leaned back in his seat, eyes still on the tool. "Think about it. What if it was us with our back to the wall? Defeat certain, no way to really hurt the bad guy. What would we do?"

No one had an answer to that, though Daniel was sure that all of them had worried about that very possibility more than once. Hammond nodded, the lines around his eyes telling Daniel very clearly that it was a nightmare that the general lived with on a daily basis. But Hammond only picked up the map generator, then said, "Very well. I have a call to make, and you all have other duties to attend to. Dismissed."

Deep in thought, though he couldn't say specifically what he was thinking, there was so much crowding his mind, Daniel wandered toward his office, only to detour at the last minute when he saw Teal'c heading for his own quarters. Much as he didn't want to confess to his friend the lie he'd told Ellison, it was better to get it out of the way before Teal'c found out the hard way. Daniel was fairly certain he'd be forgiven in either case, but couldn't stand the thought of the disappointment he'd cause if his teammate discovered the deception on his own.

Swallowing hard, wishing his heart would leave his throat and get back where it belonged, Daniel knocked at the door, then slipped inside when permission to enter was granted. On the other side he found Teal'c waiting patiently, eyebrow up and clearly questioning. "How may I assist you, Daniel Jackson?"

"Uh, actually I don't need... well, I guess you could call it assisting... though I'm really assisting myself if I'm going to be honest." Inwardly sighing because he was making no sense at all, Daniel made himself shut up, count to ten in Aramaic, then say quietly, "I convinced Colonel Ellison not to fire on you by telling him you were my lover."

To his surprise, Teal'c tilted his head slightly to one side and asked, "That was the content of the exchange that was in a different language?"

"Yes, though it was phrased so that anyone who's not a Chopec will think that I was simply claiming you as an honorary brother," Daniel tried to reassure him.

"And he accepted your declaration as the truth," Teal'c said thoughtfully. He closed the distance between them, nearly backing the smaller man into the door. "I do not believe Colonel Ellison would have perceived that you spoke the truth unless you did, indeed, speak it in some fashion. Is the truth that you wish me to be your lover, Daniel?"

"What?" Daniel asked in total confusion.

Teal'c's answer was to capture Daniel's chin between thumb and forefinger to tilt his head, then bend to kiss him gently, full on the mouth. There was no surprise, no fear—only the sensation of places deep within shifting and opening in greedy acceptance, as if this moment was what Daniel had needed and wanted his entire life. The pleasure of it made him cry out, partly in pain from the years of unknown deprivation so suddenly ended, and Teal'c lifted his lips away, words of concern already forming.

Not allowing them to be voiced, Daniel locked his hands in the front of his companion's shirt and stretched up to renew their kiss, opening his mouth in silent supplication that Teal'c readily granted. His tongue slipped past hungry lips to sensuously taste and explore, sending burning shivers down Daniel's spine and weakening his knees. When the arousing shudders reached his awakening maleness, he unwillingly drew away, though he couldn't make his fists release Teal'c completely.

"More, Daniel, please," Teal'c murmured, his strong fingers restlessly massaging slender shoulders.

"Not here," he said, amazed at how thick and rough he sounded. "They give you some privacy and don't turn on the security cameras in here unless they have to, but I can't leave here looking well-loved either. Come home with me as soon as we can?"

"Yes." Teal'c brushed his lips over Daniel's ear, repeating it softly, "Yes."

The whisper of warm, moist air over one of the most erogenous zones on his body, along with the promise it carried, almost undid Daniel. Without intending to, he sagged against the muscular body, strong arms enfolding him so completely, any other embrace would seem inadequate for the rest of his life. "Is it really going to be this easy?" he mumbled, resting his forehead in the center of Teal'c's chest.

A negative rumble vibrated between them, then Teal'c gently set Daniel away. "Perhaps it is right that our beginning is; it is doubtful that much else will be."

Thinking of the warning he'd been forced to give only a few hours earlier, Daniel snorted in self-derision. "Is it okay if we skip everything but the loving part for a while? At least long enough for me to get used to the idea that I don't know myself as well as I thought I did?"

Drawing back sharply, Teal'c asked, "You have not tasted before what one warrior may offer to another?"

"Ah, no," Daniel admitted, feeling bereft at the space between them. "Does that matter?" The lust that brightened the ebony eyes at his answer was mesmerizing, and he swayed forward, reaching to take another kiss, wanting to sample the desire he saw.

"Very much so." Teal'c growled, but gently pushed Daniel back until he was an arm's length away. "You are correct in desiring a more private location, where we will not be interrupted or hurried while I savor the gift you have for me, as it should be savored."

There was something incredibly erotic about Teal'c's rich voice lingering over 'savor,' as if he had already begun to make love with him, and Daniel couldn't stop a small groan from escaping him as his cock hardened further. "If I don't get out of here, right now," he warned shakily, "I'm going to do my damndest to knock you to the ground and find out exactly what it is you're offering me."

"Go," Teal'c ground out. "Hurry!"

It wasn't his words, but the sight of the bulge distorting the front of his pants that sent Daniel scrambling for the doorknob, and he didn't let himself stop moving until he was at his office. Once in that relative safety, he sat hunched over on himself, trying not to think about anything at all until his body stopped screaming for something he had never thought he wanted.

* * *

Sitting lotus in the middle of the bed of the guest quarters, deep inside Cheyenne Mountain, Blair worked a pick through his still-damp curls, absently thinking he needed to get a haircut again, all but humming in appreciation of being squeaky clean and dressed in soft, clean clothes. After so many years of living on the edge of survival, pursued on all sides by enemies wanting not just his death, but the death of his entire species, he'd learned to take the smallest pleasures and cherish them.

It was a trick that Jim had learned long ago, he reflected, watching his mate carefully look over the things they had been allowed to keep, looking far more at ease than Blair knew he genuinely felt. But they truly could relax, at least for a little while, and enjoy what providence had granted them. They were warm, relatively safe, and for a change had a stomach filled not with just food, but *real* food, the likes of which both had practically forgotten had once existed.

Jim had had a rare steak and baked potato with indecent amounts of butter on it, and had had to struggle to keep his intense pleasure at the tastes from showing. Blair hadn't even bothered to try; if the people of this universe couldn't understand that he hadn't had honest-to-god fruit, live off trees growing in real soil, in so long he'd forgotten the difference between an apple and an orange, to hell with them. It wasn't as if they were going to be an inconvenience for them for very long.

Unwillingly recalled to just how bad their circumstances were, Blair beat down a sigh and let his eyes go slightly out of focus to study Jim's aura. With a sinking heart he saw that it was barely more than a mat-line around the well-built form, despite the residual glow he could see from the workout his mate had finished before eating. Between the effect of hopping from universe to universe and that mother-fucking Apophis' lucky shot with the trizatas, Jim's life force was dangerously low, and he didn't need to look at the marriage bracelet to confirm that.

Though he had been keeping his physical responses steady, an automatic habit after so long as guide to his sentinel, something must have clued Jim in on his distress. Carefully folding his jacket and shirt over the back of a chair, boots right under them, and with a quick glance to make sure that Blair's were similarly situated, Jim prowled bare-footed over to the bed and crawled onto it. With deliberate playfulness, he knocked the smaller man onto his back, rubbing along him like a huge cat.

"Stop thinking," Jim ordered.

"Even if I promise you'll like what I'm thinking?" Blair laughed.

"Oh? Having dirty thoughts again, Dr. Sandburg?" Jim nuzzled at the ear he'd whispered into and tugged carefully with his tongue at one of the earrings adorning it.

"Now why would I be doing that?" Blair answered, angling his head to give his lover better access and valiantly trying to keep the banter going despite the sizzle beginning in his middle. "Just because you're walking around here in a tee-shirt that looks like it's been glued on to show off every muscle on that perfect chest of yours. Ditto tight pants and ass?"

"After all this time, you're still looking, Chief?" Jim murmured. He settled his weight down on Blair, covering him with loving intent.

"Always, man, always." Blair slid his hands around his mate's waist, massaging lightly at where hips flowed down to buttocks. At sentinel level he asked, "Can you do this with the surveillance cameras on us? Because it's been forever and I'm starving here."

"Makes two of us. Under the blankets, now." Hastily they both squirmed under the covers, loosening all of their remaining clothes in the process. In very short order, they were back in the same position, except that Jim had hitched himself higher, so that his wide shoulders blocked any view of Blair's face, and one hand was woven through silver-streaked auburn locks.

Taking a long, hard kiss, reveling in the familiar taste and feel, Blair carded his fingers through the short hair at the back of his lover's head, loving the velvety nap of it. When the antigens had caused all Jim's hair to grow back, it had changed in texture until it was very nearly as fine and silky as an animal's pelt, and Blair had finally understood why Jim was obsessed with his curls. Which was probably why he kept 'forgetting' to get them cut despite the nuisance long hair was in the field, he thought hazily, beginning to languidly rock against the damp hard-on pressed alongside his own.

Tearing his mouth away to grab for some air, Blair whispered, "Love you," then began biting his way toward his lover's neck, looking to drive Jim out of his mind as quickly as possible, despite how much he wished they could take their time.

"Damn... good..." Jim began thrusting in earnest, lifting himself up onto his elbows enough to let his chest brush over Blair's, the smooth glide of it against his nipples enough to bring them up to aching points of pleasure.

Arching into the contact, desperately wishing he could open his thighs and take his mate into himself, Blair dug his heels into the mattress and surrendered to his climax. Stifling his joyous cry of completion, he shuddered through the release of his seed, hanging onto Jim with all he had. When the last tremor had chased through him, he sighed deeply, and whispered, "Want you in me, Jim. Want it hard and fast and deep."

With a groan that was nearly subliminal, Jim lost control, hips grinding away frantically as if he could penetrate to the heart of his love through skin and bone. Blair clung to him, enjoying the hint of the wildness that could come with their ecstasy sometimes, refusing to regret that it was unlikely they'd be able to have what they wanted so badly before it was too late. Then Jim froze in place, only the wetness of his semen revealing his finish—that and the softly whimpered 'Blair' that always threatened to make him cry from the love and happiness in it.

When his mate carefully lowered himself back down, chest heaving from their lovemaking, Blair began scratching gently at the sweaty skull. "Rest," he murmured. "I'll take first watch."

It was a sign of how much pain Jim was in that he did as told without argument, and Blair willingly lay under him, staring at the ceiling and refusing to give in to the sorrow clawing at the back of his eyes.

* * *

Cascade, Washington

Mind focused entirely on writing up the lesson plans for the study group scheduled to meet at the loft later that afternoon, Blair was caught totally off-guard by the first shock of pleasure slamming into him. Unlike the first phantom attack earlier, when pain had eaten its way across every cell, leaving him unable to breathe but basically in control of himself, the honey sweet flood of orgasm swept through him in a irresistible tide that robbed him of command over his body. Trembling violently, he nearly toppled to the floor, but Jim caught him before he hit, carefully lowering him the rest of the way.

Unbidden, Blair's hands dug into his partner's shoulders, seeking an anchor in the inexplicable thing happening to him, and his grip pulled the bigger man off balance so that Jim sprawled half on top of him, his weight caught on one elbow. Groin to groin, Blair helplessly bucked into the solid weight covering him, the first spurt of his come shamefully pouring out as he shouted Jim's name in astonished ecstasy. A moment later his mind was clear, but before he could do more than draw a lung full of air, Jim lunged into him, an enormous erection making itself known against Blair's hip.

Way past startled or even shocked, Blair passively lay under his partner, confusedly trying to fathom what could have caused the whole bizarre situation. Then Jim went stock-still, a faint tremor the only clue that he was climaxing powerfully, though a moment later, new, hot dampness penetrated the already cooling patch of it at Blair's crotch. Hesitantly, not wanting his friend be too freaked by this latest strangeness, Blair gingerly petted the back of Jim's head, just to let him know that they were in it together.

Jim sagged onto him, face burrowing into the curve of his shoulder and neck. "Blair," he whispered, and it was the terrified longing and love in that single word that did to Blair what finding himself remotely raped had not. He panicked, pushing and shoving at the heavy body until he could squirm free. Getting to his feet as fast as he could, he raced for the bathroom, praying that their tradition of total privacy there wouldn't break down because of the current insanity.

Once inside that dubious safety, he plopped down on the toilet and concentrated on not hyperventilating, the events of the past year or so tumbling into whole new patterns for him to consider. So many of the things Jim had done made sense when viewed through a filter of hopeless love. But that wasn't what made Blair want to make like Naomi Sandburg and simply run for his Volvo and drive until he ran out of money and gas. It was the answering echo of despairing need and want from a hidden place inside himself where it had been masquerading under the guise of 'friendship' and 'partners.'

His days of emulating his mother were over, though, and besides, retreat wouldn't make the agony any easier to endure. When he was as calm as he was going to get, he tidied up and left his ridiculous refuge, boldly joining Jim at his post by the balcony doors. To his surprise, he half-hoped that his partner would simply stonewall him as usual, but it seemed as if nothing in life was completely predictable, not even his sentinel. Jim was obviously waiting for Blair to start talking, giving him the advantage of first strike.

So Blair did the most atypical thing he could think of and said simply, "When I was sixteen I asked my best friend to kiss me because I was curious about what it was like with a guy. Nada. No reaction. Not good, not bad, just, well, he kissed me. That's the sum total of my experience with men."

Staring into the distance, Jim shrugged. "Between the army and Vice, I've got more, but not that much more, and all of it was nothing." He turned, fixing Blair with a look that held too many emotions for any one to be sorted out and named. "I wasn't interested in the sex thing, Chief. It was never about that, though I wouldn't have said no if you'd made a pass."

"What was it about, then?" Blair had to ask.

Jim's jaw muscle began throbbing, giving away that the answer to that was the real reason his partner had never said anything. Being Jim, though, he said honestly, "Belonging."

"Shit." Blair dragged a shaking hand through his hair. "Do you think you could pick something that I'm even lousier at doing? That way I can make a complete and total wreck of our lives even faster and easier."

The long fingers that settled in his hair, combing through the strands and putting them in order weren't his own, and Blair stood perfectly still under Jim’s welcomed touch. "Yeah, I'm a pro at relationships myself, got a perfect score. You were smart to stay far, far away from me," Jim said with a world's worth of tiredness dogging his voice.

"I'm not afraid of your love," Blair said firmly. "I'm afraid of what I'm going to do to you, egotistical as that sounds. You think I have no idea of what kind of damage I would do once I was all the way in and it was time for me move on?" He punched lightly at the center of Jim's chest in pure frustration. "Guess it's too late to worry about that any more, huh?"

"Pretty much." Jim glanced down at the parking lot, and then stepped back, donning his stone-face and letting the conversation drop like a rock. "Study group's starting to arrive. I'm going to take my turn at the bathroom then go upstairs to read."

"You're not going to clear out for a while, like you usually do?" Blair asked, startled.

"Just because the weirdness has gotten X-rated, doesn't mean I can cut and run now," Jim said shortly. "I'll keep my distance, I promise."

"No," Blair blurted. Embarrassment grabbed him tightly around the chest, but he added, "Listen to your instincts; they're the best guide right now. And if that means you need to have me sit in your lap to keep sane, we'll tell my students that we're conducting an experiment in, I don't know, mass reaction to non-threatening homosexual behavior."

"You know, Sandburg, if it were anybody else, a line like that would never be believed, but I bet those kids would be writing a paper on it in no time."

The effort at banter was a bit strained, Blair thought, but better than he could come up with, so he tried for a smile, got a partial one pasted on, and shot back, "Does this mean I'm going to be perched on those bony knees of yours?"

"Go get the door, Sandburg. I'm going to read."

Jim did as he said, leaving Blair at the balcony doors, feeling strangely cold and isolated.

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Thankfully, shortly after Daniel had left Teal'c, he had been able to totally immerse himself in translating some pictographs brought in by SG3. So much so, that when Jack had collected him for the meeting called by Hammond, he trailed along after his friend, his mind mostly on sorting through the possible meanings. Because of that he literally bumped into Colonel Ellison on the other side of the briefing room door, forcing the other man to steady him.

Ellison stared at him for a moment, then at Teal'c coming up the stairs behind them. The two of them exchanged a look that Daniel was sure concerned him, but all Ellison did was wait for the Jaffar to catch up, allowing Teal'c to take his place at Daniel's side. To add to his confusion, Jim murmured in Chopec, "Your heart is in your eyes, my friend." He seated himself at the conference table next to Dr. Sandburg, pausing to whisper something in his ear, and the smaller man glanced at Jack as he sat opposite them. There was so much compassion in that single look that Daniel resolved then and there to never ask what relationship the Jack and Daniel of their universe had had.

Small as the four-way exchange had been, Jack caught something of it and stared at each of them in turn, but apparently decided the time wasn’t right for questions. Carefully putting Sam between him and the temptation that was Teal'c, Daniel sat as well, turning his seat to be able to easily see Hammond from his end of the table. He had a momentary, strong, sense of deju vu; they were all back in the same position they'd been in earlier.

The general didn't waste any time this time around either. "Though we both have our doubts, the President has authorized an attack on Apophis' shipyard, provided we can come up with a plan that presents a minimum of risk. Colonel O'Neill will organize and lead the assault party, with Colonel Ellison as a provisional second-in-command. Dr. Sandburg will remain here at SGC to work with Dr. Jackson to devise a method of disseminating his information on a world-wide basis with minimum social impact and maximum scientific availability."

Daniel started to nod, but before he could, Ellison said flatly, "No, sir." Before the stunned silence could grow long enough to be more than noticed, he added firmly, "We're more than willing to take part in the attack, or whatever else you need us to do, but we will not be separated for any reason for any length of time."

"Colonel Ellison, you forget yourself," Hammond snapped. "You are not in a position to be dictating terms."

"Perhaps not," Dr. Sandburg broke in, laying a calming hand on his partner's forearm. "But before you throw us in the brig, there's one thing you need to take into account - how we're carrying our information."

"What relevance does that have...." General Hammond started.

"It's here," Ellison said shortly, pointing to the center of his partner's forehead.

"Mnemonic chains imbedded during a meditative trance," Sandburg clarified quietly, and Daniel sat up straighter, suddenly sure he knew what was coming next. "And the key to them is here." Sandburg pointed at Ellison's head.

"I could wring it out of you," Jack said, half-whimsically, half-serious.

"The last person who said that to me," Ellison assured him with blunt deadliness, "Was a five-thousand-year-old Ga'ould who'd spent most of those years torturing slaves into submission. I didn't talk. He's dead. I'm not."

"Ever notice," Sandburg said conversationally to Sam, "That when it's between soldiers, sooner or later any conversation turns into a pecker contest? They could be talking about the weather, and next thing you know, out trots the macho. Must have something to do with the guns."

She managed to kill her snort of laughter, but not before the soldiers in question shot her and Sandburg an irritated glare. Daniel just ducked his head to hide his grin, his opinion of the anthropologist growing considerably.

"Look, General," Sandburg said, "I know that you and the President are looking for a guarantee that we're not part of an elaborate trap of some kind, and I think I know what will do it without over-stimulating anyone's protective instincts." He stood, gesturing at the door. "Could we move this to the Gate Control room? Please?"

"Very well, but this had better be good, Dr. Sandburg." Hammond led the way downstairs, and Daniel deliberately brought up the rear, wanting to be near their guests.

His hunch paid off; he overheard Ellison say quietly to his partner, "Are you sure about this, Chief?"

"We're out of time; nothing to do but now but pray the soil is fertile," Blair answered.

Daniel stored the brief conversation away, adding it to everything else he had noticed about the two men and hoping to eventually see a pattern take shape. Once in the control room, he stood next to the pair, making room for Sam when Dr. Sandburg gestured her over.

"I'm going to release the Star Gate," he said simply. "With your permission, General, I'll type in the commands very slowly, so Major Carter has time to cancel or abort anything I do if she doesn't like it."

"You'll strand yourself here?" Hammond asked.

"Not stranded; if you know about Mirror technology, then you obviously have access to one. But since we don't know where it is, and, as Sam will be able to confirm, we can't convert your Gate back to a mirror, releasing it effectively makes us your prisoners." Hands poised over a keyboard, Dr. Sandburg sat, then watched the General expectantly, so very calm that Daniel knew that the decision had already been made, whether Hammond agreed or not.

"Major Carter," Hammond asked thoughtfully, "Can you isolate his commands until you're sure they'll do what he claims?"

"Yes, sir, very easily." With a quick flurry of keystrokes, Sam did so, then waited herself for the order.

"Proceed."

Colonel Ellison slid his hand into the hair of the nape of his companion's neck, then bent to say something directly in the closest ear. More loudly he added, "Slowly, slowly." Dr. Sandburg shut his eyes, exhaled a long, careful breath, then began to type. As letters scrolled past on Sam's screen, she breathed "My God!" then began to scribble frantically with pen on paper, hardly able to tear her eyes away.

Daniel looked, but didn't see anything but mathematical symbols and formulas that were meaningless to him. Instead, he concentrated on their visitors, trying not to let himself get sidetracked by the tenderness in Ellison's touch, and looking for the reason that they would willingly surrender the advantage of holding the Gate. Knowing that they 'were out of time,' which could mean that temporal distortion was catching up with them, was a clue, but not enough to unravel the entire mystery.

Typically, Teal'c was studying them as well, but, alarmingly, his expression was closed, even to Daniel's expert interpretation, as if his thoughts were too dangerous to risk the slightest exposure. That made Daniel double-check their guests, but there wasn't anything new for him to see. Dr. Sandburg had finished the program he had been spilling from his memory, and was simply sitting under his lover's touch, leaning back into him as if the effort at recall had been exhausting, his fingers still lightly resting on the keyboard.

With a muttered exclamation, Sam put down her pen and said directly to General Hammond, "They destroyed the origin Gate; that was the only way to have enough power to maintain the mirror from Star Gate to Star Gate."

"Destroyed it!" Jack yelled.

"It was about to fall into Apophis' hands," Ellison said shortly. "Hopefully, half his forces went with it."

"Colonel Ellison, if you wanted to convince me that you and yours hate the Ga'ould beyond any reasoning, you've just succeeded," Hammond said coldly.

Ellison looked uncomfortable at the assessment, but all he said was, "Over six billion reduced to less than ten thousand; our home reduced to fire and ash slowly cooling, incapable of supporting life for eons, if ever. No more Rembrandts or Da Vincis, no more Jimi Hendrix or Beethovens. All of our culture reduced to what a handful of people remember and preserve." Somehow, he dredged up a smile and looked down at his mate, tugging once on a curl to get his attention. "Good thing the Jews have had experience in being exiles, huh, Chief?"

"Told you that you'd be glad eventually that you let me guide you," Sandburg answered complacently. To General Hammond he said, "With so few of us left in SGC, our Commander left what to do next open to general discussion. It took us less than an hour to come to a democratic consensus, which Admiral Calavacci said was probably the first time in human history that so many bull-headed, single-minded scientists and stubborn, opinionated soldiers ever agreed on anything without resorting to fist-fights."

"Mankind's finest hour," Jack said sarcastically.

Ellison left his mate's side, moving so fast that even Teal'c didn't have a chance to raise a hand. Getting right in the other colonel's face, he said angrily, "When you've stood in our shoes, then you have a right to pass judgment, Jack, and not before. As I recall it, at least once in your life you were the one standing over a bomb deciding whether or not to take out a Gate and the entire resident population! At least I knew the Ga'ould were enemies; did the people of Abydos fit that description, Colonel?"

"Point taken," Jack said softly, not backing down. "Now you take mine; I'd be stupid to think that what is best for your SGC is in the best interests of mine."

"Don't you get it yet, Jack?" Daniel said tiredly, one part of the mystery finally making sense. "There is no more SGC for them, no more *home* for them. If they took out the Gate, they took out the planet it was on."

Everyone stared at him, but it was Dr. Sandburg who said quietly, "It was all there was left to do; it's a thin hope that our 'antibodies' will eventually spread back to our universe, but it's the only hope we could give our children and their children in turn. That one distant day, they would be free again."

Shakily, he stood up, facing Hammond directly. "Short of opening up my head like a book and letting you read it, there's nothing else we can do to convince you we're sincere and only want to help you beat the Ga'ould. Will you either just throw us in the brig or let us get to work? Please?"

Hammond looked at Colonel Ellison, who had taken a step away from Jack and was rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck, head down and looking slightly ashamed. Then he studied each member of SG1 in turn for a long moment, and when Daniel's turn came, he did his best to project the belief he held that they should trust the opportunity they were being given. Finally, the General said, "Major Carter, please contact the Tok'ra; for once I believe they might be eager to help us on a mission."

"Yes, sir!"

"Colonel Ellison, what is the best use that we can make of you and Dr. Sandburg on that mission?" Hammond went on quietly.

"I'll leave that up to O'Neill, if you don't mind, sir," Ellison said gratefully. "He's worked with Rangers before." There was a hint of a question in the statement, and he glanced over at Jack for confirmation. "And he has a good idea of what we can do. My expertise is reconnaissance and point man, and I'm a good field medic."

"We'll think of something for you," O'Neill said. "Carter, which team do you want to be on: mine or Daniel's?"

Her wide-eyed indecision over whether to pick science or military action got a scattering of smothered laughter which died quickly when she swung around glaring.

The six of them wound up taking over the conference room with Daniel, Sam, and Sandburg at one end, and Teal'c, Jack, and Ellison at the other. Technically, that is. In reality, all of them moved back and forth from one project to the other, trading opinions, ideas, information until it was time to start writing up their briefs for the general. Then they all settled down with the usual complaints about paperwork with Ellison saying in gruff near-humor that the only good thing about losing a war was not having to do the paperwork.

For the most part, Daniel was able to keep his mind on his job, though he found himself staring at the other end of the table far too often. When he caught himself at it, he pretended he was simply staring into space to think, and not admiring the way Teal'c's huge hands were so deft with a pencil. Unfortunately, Sam didn't buy it; she kept stealing suspicious peeks at him from the corner of her eye.

Finally, under the cover of conversation from the assault team, she said very quietly, "Daniel, neither the colonel nor I give a damn, but if you don't quit looking at Teal'c with so much longing, some of the redder necks around here are going to cause problems."

Guiltily, Daniel forced his eyes down to the paper he was supposed to be writing on. "I know, I know! It's just...it's new to me. I didn't even know I had a closet that I needed to hide in!"

Sturdy fingers flitted reassuringly over the back of his hand, and Dr. Sandburg said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing. If it's any help, it does get easier when the honeymoon phase is over." He grinned, suddenly looking about eighteen years old. "Then it gets hard again when the real love kicks in after the hormonal infatuation fades, but at least, you've got some practice by then."

"Practice," Daniel said doubtfully, trying to not to sneak another look and failing miserably.

Serious again, Dr. Sandburg added, "And inspiration, like the first time someone calls you a filthy name because of who you love and Teal'c slams them into a wall."

That brought Daniel's eyes back where they belonged, and he started writing with determination. "Teal'c wouldn't slam them into a wall," he muttered.

"No," Sam agreed, "He'd just break their neck, then apologize to Hammond for stepping outside of the chain of command and not letting the general deal with it."

"My God, Hammond," Daniel nearly moaned, hanging his head so no one could see the despair on his face.

"Will be okay with it," Sam quickly assured him. "Just don't rub his nose in it so he has to officially notice."

"Which brings me right back to the closet I don't know how to be in," Daniel muttered.

"Don't get carried away with caution, either" Dr. Sandburg said softly, sadly. "You and Teal'c are both soldiers, warriors that might have to die in the line of duty five minutes from now. Don't be stupid, but don't waste what opportunities you have, either."

Sam studied him thoughtfully. "You sound like...."

The rest of her question was lost when Dr. Sandburg leapt to his feet, then threw himself down the length of the conference table, sliding on one hip with astonishing grace until he was at the other end. When he reached his mate, he pivoted on his backside and slithered between Ellison's out-stretched arms, barely missing where his hands had a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table. Sitting astride his spouse's lap, he leaned in until they were nearly forehead-to-forehead, hands locked at the back of Ellison's neck.

It happened so quickly that Daniel didn't even realize that the colonel was being hit by a dimensional cascade until the remembered seizure-like jerking was in full swing. Dr. Sandburg absorbed the worst of the backbreaking shocks, murmuring reassurances too softly for anyone to be able to understand. Helplessly, Daniel stood and watched, waiting for the slightest sign that there was something he could do to help.

In the end, all he could do was sigh in relief with the others when Ellison finally sagged into his chair, his head falling forward onto Dr. Sandburg's shoulder, arms dropping around his waist. "We're going to need to take a break," Dr. Sandburg said apologetically, hands drifting several inches over his spouse's body, as if afraid to touch directly.

"No problem," Jack said instantly. "It's past dinner time anyway; we'll end where we are, meet back here later. Want me to have an airman bring something to your room?"

Dr. Sandburg said absently, "No, thank you. We'll stop by the mess on the way back." Urging his spouse to his feet, Sandburg wrapped a arm around Ellison's waist, lending support while the bigger man carefully made his way toward the door, head hanging almost to his chest.

As nonchalantly as possible, Daniel stepped past the guards and took Colonel Ellison's other side, lifting the tense arm over his own shoulders to lend support. "Dr. Sandburg, have you given any thought to having a ISP created and having it serve as a clearing house for the information, in addition to the general press release?" he said, as if continuing their discussion was the reason why he joined them as they left the conference room.

"It's a thought," Dr. Sandburg said a bit tightly, taking most of his spouse's weight. "However, I doubt that we could put up a strong enough firewall to keep someone like Maybourne from shutting it down or simply corrupting it."

Somehow they managed a coherent conversation all the way back to the guest quarters, then Daniel stopped them two doors short of the room they'd been in. "This one is for VIP's," he explained quietly. "The security camera feeds only into Hammond's office, and into Dr. Fraiser's if she feels it's required. I can bring you anything you left in your first room."

"We didn't leave anything there."

Daniel opened the door, and heard as he shut it behind the barely upright pair, "Don't waste your opportunities." Not sure who had said it, he left, head down in thought.

* * *

Cascade, Washington

Though the crash of Jim's book to the floor was the first real warning he had that something was wrong, Blair had known a split second before the sound. A sensation that he had no name for but which felt like ice-barbed electricity slithering down and around his spine, made him look up at Jim's bedroom just before he heard the noise. It was in time to see long fingers wrap themselves tightly around the high-tension wires that served as railing.

Closing the door behind the last of his study group as she left, hardly hearing her startled protest at his abruptness, Blair raced up the stairs two at a time, not pausing when he reached the top. Even as he was hurtling himself onto the bed, he took in the silent agony on his partner's face, back bowed as Jim struggled to deal with the onslaught of pain, taut arm and chest muscles standing out in strained contraction from the effort. Acting on impulse born from the same place as the knowledge Jim was under attack, Blair crawled on top of him, not adding his weight to his sentinel's burden, but giving him the sparse comfort of his nearness.

Far too much later, Jim took a single deep, unconstrained breath, then collapsed onto the mattress, arms falling limply onto the pillow. "Over," he muttered exhaustedly.

"That seemed stronger than what got me," Blair murmured, irrationally running fast hands over the trembling limbs, as if he were the sentinel and could sense any injuries. "Maybe we should do the hospital; make sure this isn't poison or some obscure disease.

"Hard to judge if it's worse than yours," Jim said, eyelids flickering down. "And it's not coming from inside; I can tell. It's an outside attack. Like having someone jam a live wire into your gut, or dump white hot glass shards over your head." He rolled heavily to his to his side, and Blair deliberately went with him, putting his arms around the bigger man's shoulders and hugging Jim's head to his chest.

Before his partner could complain or try to get away, Blair said firmly, "Okay, then maybe you should rest while you can, since it's a pretty good bet this is going to happen again. I'll stay awake and keep an eye on things for a while."

"I can stand watch," Jim mumbled stubbornly, though he was moving his head as if looking for the best place to pillow it on the arm Blair had under it.

"Remember what you said earlier about wanting to stay close? Well that goes double for me, and my heart is still running a marathon from this last scare," Blair said reasonably. "You might as well 'go off duty' while I convince my body that stroking out is not a good response to the situation."

He expected another argument, but a soft snore from the general vicinity of his arm pit told Blair that Jim had dropped off whether he wanted to or not. Grabbing the edge of the comforter, Blair pulled it over them, taking care to tuck it around his partner's shoulders, though it left his own exposed to the early evening air. Worried because it was obvious to him that Jim's attack had been worse than his, Blair focused on an imaginary spot on the wall and tried to find some order for his whirling thoughts.

One thing became clear very quickly; he liked keeping watch over his sentinel. It touched a part of him that Blair didn't really recognize, making him feel both very tender toward the man cradled in his arms, and very empowered, as if Jim had given him a part of his strength by allowing the tiny hint of vulnerability. It seemed, in a strange way, the most obvious sign of trust that Blair had had from his partner, though, when he really thought about it, he had to admit that wasn't true.

After all, Jim had trusted him to watch his back almost from the start. Then he had let Blair, nearly a total stranger at the time, move into the loft, though that was supposed to be strictly temporary. And there was the time the sentinel had been blind because of Golden. How much trust did it take to let someone else act as your eyes by whispering in your ear long-distance while you walk up to armed criminals that you couldn't even see? He even knew the man's bankcard pin number, for god's sake!

Blair made a minor adjustment to the covering over his partner, wondering why, since Jim had let him in so deep from the very beginning, that *trust* had been the one thing that came up most when they fought. That question kept him occupied for a time, but eventually he stopped shying from the obvious truth and made himself look at the only possible reason. It wasn't that Jim didn't trust him. It was because Jim didn't have any reason to think Blair trusted *him,* and because of that would eventually betray him. Which was exactly what happened, inadvertent though it had been.

Like the anthropologist he'd wanted to be and the outsider he really was, Blair had burrowed completely into Jim's life on the pretext of studying his sentinel abilities, without once letting the man past his own walls. Blair knew Jim's pin number; Jim hadn't even known Blair's birthday until Naomi told him. Every important moment of his partner's life that he'd been able to pinpoint, had been documented, mulled over, then added or dismissed from the dissertation. Jim didn't have a clue when Blair had graduated from high school or even where he'd gotten his master's degree.

All he knew was the superficial stuff, or the half-truths that Blair had given out to pacify his friend when he asked questions. For the most part, he hid the important things, and turned away from Jim when he was hurt, defending his vulnerability by being elsewhere and avoiding those too compassionate, too observant blue eyes. He'd been telling himself it was to keep the two of them from getting too close, but it hadn't worked, had it?

They were past close, and whether Blair had wanted it or not, Jim was as much a part of his life as he was of Jim's. So much so, that just walking away had long since stopped being an option, though he'd been denying that with everything he had. For once, there wasn't going to be any 'detaching with love,' because it would be ripping love out by the roots; something he'd spent his whole life trying to avoid. He'd had far too close a look at how much harm it caused.

Sighing, suddenly calm and centered, Blair let his feeble attempt at self-preservation go. This, and he gave Jim a gentle squeeze, pulling him a tiny bit closer, was what it was, and, if he were really going to be honest with himself, it was already pretty damned good. Mind settled, he matched his breathing to his partner's, letting the rhythm of inhaling and exhaling flow from Jim into himself, noting with satisfaction that the heart he could feel thumping at his middle was keeping perfect time with his own. Using that as his focus, he meditated until a change in it told him his partner was waking up.

When Jim lifted his head, looking sheepish and apologetic, Blair smiled at him, then leaned in to cover his lips with his own. For one heart-breaking second, he thought Jim was going to reject the caress, then the thin line of pain flowed away into warm, soft welcome that rapidly heated into hunger. A stray thought drifted by - if Paul had kissed him like this when he was sixteen, his entire sex life would have been completely different - then any kind of coherent cogitation became impossible.

A soft sweep of tongue requested permission to taste more deeply, and Blair willingly opened to his new lover, moaning quietly at the loving exploration of the rough velvet. There was an answering cry of passion from Jim, inciting Blair to his own tentative probing of the moist fire waiting on the other side of eager lips. Like their breathing earlier, the kiss flowed back and forth, growing more sure and needy with each exchange.

Just when Blair thought he would burst into flame from the incendiary sparks jabbing through his middle, Jim tore away, lifting enough for them to see into each other's face. "Do you know what you're doing, Chief?" he asked roughly.

"Surrendering," Blair answered serenely. "Admitting that this is where I want to be, this is what I want to be doing, and nothing else matters."

"I shouldn't let you," Jim muttered, fingers trailing delicately over his lover's temple and cheek, as if they were fragile and infinitely precious. "But after what Alex did to us..." Not giving him a chance to question what, exactly, he meant by that, he covered Blair's mouth again, this time not restraining the power of his want.

His own surged out to meet it, and, back arching to get as close to Jim as possible, Blair unintentionally started them dry humping into each other. Bodies out of control, they writhed frantically, erection straining against erection through too many layers of fabric. It wasn't enough for either of them, and, before the frustration could reach a painful level, Jim broke their kiss again, this time mouthing and nipping his way along a bristled jaw to a be-jeweled ear. As if Blair had given him instructions on what would send spikes of pure pleasure into him, he tugged on the lobe, sucking at it briefly, then abruptly fastened his teeth into the junction of Blair's shoulder and neck, sucking at it voraciously.

With a choked shout as climax shattered over him, Blair lost all of his senses except touch, and that was centered in his hard-on, where the bursts of his seed sent hard shocks of ecstasy into what was left of his mind. When the last one was ricocheting over his nerves, his lover released his marked flesh, and whispered, "Blair," barely loud enough to be heard. A moment later, violent trembling told Blair that Jim was finishing himself, and he weakly hung onto the quaking form, wanting to negate the way he had run the last time he had heard that love-drenched word.

By the time Jim relaxed into the circle of his arms again, Blair's head was clear, and he was dreading the moment when his partner would draw away and force them to face what had happened. But Jim stayed in his sanctuary at Blair's throat, and said quietly, "I promise, when the time comes, I'll let you go without hurting you or making it harder than it has to be."

It was so totally what he didn't expect to hear, that for a second all he could do was swallow against the sting of tears. When he could trust his voice, he said flatly, fiercely, "That's not the promise I want. I want you to stop me, fight with me, kidnap me and bring me back home, hit me over the head and drag me back, whatever it takes. Don't give up on me, Jim, and don't let me give up on us."

"Blair," he started uncertainly.

"I mean it. I expect you to devote every ounce of that Ranger stubbornness, cop pig-headedness, and sentinel determination to keeping us together." Blair managed a choked laugh. "That is your mission, should you choose to accept it."

"And if you really need to go?" Jim asked, the pain a barely audible thread under the words.

"Then I'll tell you, just like that, and why. That's my promise; that I won't let you fight a lost cause. Maybe it's not a vow of undying love and fidelity, but right now, it's the best I can do."

"Works for me, Chief," Jim said, speaking with obvious difficulty. "Works for me."

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