Author's Notes: dedicated to the people on the forum...you guys gave me the idea, it grew to gigantic proportions all on its own.

and many, many thanks to Lems who typed her fingers to the quick betaing this for me. It is a far better work thanks to her input.

Also thanks to Perri at perriverse.dreamhost.com where I got much of my Pretender facts. (I’ve watched the show since the beginning but I’m nowhere near the fanatic about it that I am for stargate.

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions.  The characters of The Pretender, and the Centre belong to NBC, and MTM. The characters of Profiler belong to NBC. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it.  Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).

Catherine slipped into Kevin’s barren room. She quietly approached the sleeping child and slipped one slender hand over his mouth. He opened tear swollen eyes in terror and struggled against her with all the strength his 5 year old body could muster. It was no match against a full grown woman.

"Ssh. Kevin it’s OK. I’m going to get you out of here. But you have to help me. Do you understand? You must be quiet. If they hear us it will be very bad. Will you be quiet?" she whispered kindly but urgently. She saw his solemn little face relax as he nodded.

She removed her hand from his mouth and let him go. He sat up in the bunk, the rough blankets pooled around his tiny body as he scrubbed his eyes. She moved to the foot of the bed and picked up his shoes. "You’re taking me home?" he asked hopefully. Catherine considered lying to him but quickly decided the truth was the best.

"No Kevin, I can’t. Your mom and dad...honey they’re dead. But I’ve found someone to care for you. They’re good people and they’ve been dreaming of having a little boy...just like you," she teased, gently tousling his soft brown hair.

"But I want to go home," he said plaintively, as he slipped on battered tennis shoes.

Silently cursing the time it was taking, but knowing it was vital he cooperate, Catherine sat beside the forlorn little boy, hoping Mr. Fenigore could bypass the security and buy her enough time. "Kevin, your home is gone. Remember? It burned down. There is nowhere for you to go back to. Now these people, they’re archaeologists. Do you know what that means?" He shook his head, his long hair flopping into his sad blue eyes. "That means they study the past. They solve mysteries. They’re going to take you to Egypt with them. Remember that movie you liked, The Mummy?"

He nodded excitedly. "Yeah, it was so cool. He rises from the dead and walks around." He hopped off the bed, arms outstretched and imitating the stiff gait of the mummy.

Catherine laughed sadly at the sight of the frail little child, lurching across the room, his untied shoe-laces dragging on the bare concrete floor. "Yes Kevin," she said, getting up and stopping his walk so she could tie the laces. "These people, they study the mummies. Would you like to go see one?" she asked.

His eyes lit up with anticipation. "Oh yes please."

"Good. Now I want you to come with me and I’ll introduce you to your new mom and dad."

Catherine led the boy through a door only a very few knew existed. They slipped silently across the spacious grounds towards the dusty Delaware road. She saw her quarry standing anxiously but discretely under a large willow tree.

"Catherine," the man whispered loudly.

"Claire, Melbourne, we must hurry. They will notice he is missing soon." Looking down at the timid boy she knelt beside him. "Kevin, this is Claire and Melbourne. They’re going to take you with them. To see the mummies, remember?" He nodded seriously.

Standing up she handed a bulky envelope to the man. "All the papers are in here, birth certificate, social security number, vaccination records and a passport. I thought it best to change his name. You should stay out of the country for several years. They have no reason to suspect you, but The Centre can be most persistent."

"We understand," Melbourne replied seriously as Claire bent down to take Kevin’s hand.

"What did you change his name to?" she asked, her face softening at the sight of her new son.

"Since he just escaped from the proverbial lions den, I chose Daniel."

"Daniel, I always liked that name." Melbourne picked up the little boy. "Well Daniel Jackson, would you like to see some real live mummies?"

General Hammond looked at the four people standing before him. While very few people ever transferred out of the SGC, tragically some, too many, perished in the line of duty. This meant there was a semi-constant trickle of new personnel joining the facility.

Throughout his years in the military, George Hammond had come to accept new faces meant fresh ideas. These fresh ideas often stood to improve a facility. However, since the incident with the reporter Armin Selig, George looked upon each new addition as a possible traitor. Even more so after the revelation that one of his most trusted officers and team leaders had been working against them. George tried to console himself by learning everything he could about the replacements.

Sgt. Marie Wellington, USAF, medical specialist, was to be assigned to SG-7 to fill in for Lt. Keller who was on maternity leave.

Dr. Jerome Peters, civilian, was to join SG-8. Who would have ever thought George would be approving a civilian for a military team? However, after watching Daniel Jackson work on SG-1 he decided perhaps he’d been too swift to judge, that civilians definitely had a place in the SGC.

Specialist Sydney Drago was to join Sgt. Siler’s group of maintenance engineers.

The most promising of the quartet was Capt. Jarod Mason. It was rare to have an officer referred to the SGC with such a glowing recommendation. He still hadn’t decided what team to assign him to. Right now Major Ferretti was helping SG-3, filling in the gap left by Colonel Makepeace’s...absence. Perhaps, if the captain proved himself, he would be a candidate to lead SG-2. George decided to seek a second opinion. Colonel Jack O’Neill had a certain knack for personalities. He’d assign Mason to SG-1 for a while. Let Jack and the rest test his mettle. If Mason could survive a few weeks with them, he could definitely command SG-2.

All five members of SG-1 stood at the base of the ramp waiting for the wormhole to open. Jack saw Major Samantha Carter shoot curious looks at their temporary fifth. Jack had to admit he was a bit curious too. Mason’s file read something like the back of a GI Joe box. If Jack went by the file alone, he’d recommend him for SG-2 without a second thought. But there was...something about him. A sort of profound innocence that belied his reported experience.

The wormhole opened with its customary watery whoosh and Jack saw Sam bite back a smile at the sight of Mason jumping back a step.

"Come on kids, P2X931 awaits. Let’s not keep the trees waiting," Jack said as he stepped onto the ramp.

"So this is really a stable wormhole?" Mason asked.

"Yeah. You see a stable wormhole is created between two gates. It allows matter... us... to travel hundreds of light-years in mere moments..." Sam answered. Jack looked at Teal’c and Daniel and rolled his eyes. ‘Great, more technobabble,’ he thought. Jack waved his hand, motioning for Teal’c and Daniel to go through. As they disappeared, he turned to see Mason and Sam walk up the ramp, still rambling on in the twenty syllable words that always made Jack’s eyes glaze over.

He saw Mason hesitate at the threshold, holding out his hand to touch the rippling surface. "You can actually see the fluctuations in the event horizon," he said, amazement strong in his voice. Jack met Sam’s amused gaze as they both remembered her first trip through the gate.

Sam reached forward and gave Mason a small shove that sent him stumbling on his way.

"Carter," Jack chided gently. His second in command merely gave him a small shrug and followed Mason into the wormhole. Jack looked back towards the control room, gave the general a casual wave and followed his team.

"So Jarod, where are you from?" Daniel asked Capt. Mason as SG-1 sat around their campfire that night. They’d spent the entire day hiking around the planet. Daniel, Sam and Teal’c gathering samples while Jack and Jarod maintained their distance and kept a watchful eye.

They’d fallen into this pattern before. This wasn’t the first time General Hammond had used SG-1 to ‘field test’ new personnel.

"Oh nowhere, everywhere," Jarod answered nonchalantly.

"You a military brat like Sam?" Daniel asked, jerking his thumb at his team mate sitting beside him.

"Hey, I resemble that remark," Sam protested.

"You could say that," Jarod answered. "My dad was in the Air Force so I moved around a lot. How about you?" he asked Daniel.

"Well, I aah...my parents were archaeologists so I spent a good portion of my childhood traipsing all over the world."

"Were?"

"They died...a long time ago."

Seeing his friend’s discomfort Jack broke in. "So captain, what got you interested in the SGC? It’s not like Cheyenne Mountain is featured in the recruiting films."

"I’ve heard rumors."

"Rumors?"

"That the best assignments aren’t overseas anymore but buried under a mountain in Colorado. Seems they were right," Jarod replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, well you can’t always believe scuttlebutt. Let’s turn in kids," Jack dismissed, mentally making a note to tell Hammond they just might have a little leakage problem again. "Carter, you got first watch, Mason and I will do second and Danny gets to get up early."

"What about Teal’c?" Jarod asked.

"I require little sleep," Teal’c stated.

"Teal’c’s sort of our back-up watch," Sam explained as the rest of SG-1 spread out their bedrolls.

"Wake us in three Major," Jack ordered as he laid down, pulling his cap over his eyes. Jarod also laid back but sleep eluded him. His brain was racing with all he’d learned in the last week.

He’d been sitting in a small rooming house in West Virginia when he’d received Angelo’s e-mail. Jarod had to review old simulation records to fully remember Kevin, or Daniel as he was now known. Kevin had only been at The Centre a few weeks. Jarod recalled a sad little boy whose parents died in a fire.

He’d disappeared one night.

Jarod now suspected Catherine Parker aided in his escape. Yet another rebellious act that most likely contributed to her early and tragic death.

Somehow Kevin’s...Daniel’s adoptive parents managed to elude The Centre’s sweepers by remaining overseas. Of course the fact that The Centre had possessed Jarod, Angelo and god only knew how many others probably helped. Also, almost three decades ago The Centre was nowhere near as powerful or desperate as they were now.

According to Angelo, the Triumvirate was attempting to tie up some loose ends. And if they couldn’t re-acquire one rogue pretender, they were going to retrieve a missing one.

Jarod was reasonably sure Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots and the vile Mr. Lyle would soon be staking out Daniel Jackson’s apartment. Most likely the man’s predilection for his work was all that had saved him from capture already. Dr. Jackson’s lack of social activity was the main reason Jarod had to infiltrate a top secret project to make contact with him.

But nothing he’d experienced in the last four years had prepared him for this. For once Jarod actually wondered if he might be in over his head.

He could handle passing himself off as an air force officer. He could handle discussing astrophysics with Major Carter or archaeology with Daniel. In fact Jarod found it hard to play dumb in front of these people. Already a couple of times, he’d found himself arguing a theory he, a lowly Air Force Captain with a college degree in biology, shouldn’t have known existed.

And he could handle the thought he was laying on his back on another world, staring up at a night sky no one on Earth, save him and his team, had ever seen. The part he was having trouble with was the fact that there was a real live alien sitting cross legged not fifteen feet away. An alien that, according to the briefings, survived with yet another alien, a Goa’uld larva in his gut.

Thanks to The Centre depriving him of pop culture throughout his childhood, and most of his adult hood, his knowledge of aliens was sketchy at best. But for some reason, he didn’t find the thought of aliens horrifying, rather intriguing.

Add to that the fact these people accepted the comradeship of an alien seemingly without reservation. Despite the trials of his childhood, Daniel had certainly found himself a valuable group of friends. It was too bad Jarod would have to take him away from them.

The next afternoon SG-1 finished their recon and headed back towards the gate. Teal’c was on point with Jack bringing up the rear as they walked through a small thicket of birch-like trees. This was how they arranged themselves when they had a tag-a-long. Jack didn’t like spending all his time with the new recruit. He wanted to see how they would interact with two scientists, one of them a woman. Jack often had Carter give the newbie a few orders, just to see how he would respond. Despite how closely screened the SGC personnel were, occasionally a bad one slipped through the cracks. The little Jonus Hansen situation being a prime example.

Jack figured if a new officer could deal with him, Teal’c, Carter and Daniel...he should be OK.

Teal’c abruptly held up his hand, motioning for them to stop and drop down. Jack carefully crawled forward as Carter and Mason surveyed their surroundings. Jack reached Teal’c’s side and touched him on the arm. The Jaffa met Jack’s eyes and silently pointed forward.

Jack looked in the indicated direction and forced himself to remain silent as he made out a dozen Jaffa, some guarding their perimeter, others busily unpacking equipment and setting up a luxurious looking tent. "Oh for crying out loud," he muttered.

"Their stay will be a lengthy one, O’Neill," Teal’c said quietly.

"Oh ya think?" Jack replied rhetorically. "Keep an eye on them," he instructed Teal’c as he crawled back to the rest.

"Colonel?" Carter asked.

"Horus guards," Jack replied. "About a dozen."

"Horus...aren’t they the protectors of the family of Ra?" Jarod asked.

"Yeah."

"So the Goa’uld they serve could be Ra, Hathor or Heru’ur," Jarod stated.

"It’s Heru’ur," Daniel replied.

"How can you be sure?"

"Cause we’ve killed the other two," Jack replied, as he shot a look at Carter.

"She’s dead colonel," Sam answered quickly, remembering all too well just how much O’Neill and Daniel didn’t like Hathor. Then again, Sam wasn’t about to join her fan club either.

"Do we wait them out?" Daniel asked.

Jack shook his head. "They’re setting up a tent. It’s gonna be a long trip for them and Hammond’ll open the gate looking for us in a few hours when we’re overdue. We need to surprise them now, before Heru’ur gets here and before they know about us."

"Two to one odds...we’ve had worse," Sam replied.

Jack shook his head. "I’d rather even them out a bit more. Got your claymores Major?"

Sam nodded. "Don’t leave home without them."

"Sweet," he replied. "You and Teal’c will go over there," he said motioning towards the path they’d just returned from. "Put them on a timer. When they blow, hopefully some of our snaky little friends will get curious. We’ll flank them, take out whoever stays behind and run like rabbits for the gate."

"Yes sir," Sam replied. Jack crawled up to Teal’c and took over his watch as the Jaffa joined Carter to go set the explosives.

An hour later Jack saw Sam and Teal’c return. They formed themselves into two groups about 50 yards from the gate. Jack and Sam to the left, Daniel, Mason and Teal’c to the right.

"How much longer?" Jack asked Sam.

She looked at her watch. "Four minutes," she answered.

"Keep an eye on Mason. I’m not sure how he’ll react," he instructed.

Sam nodded. "No problem. Nothing like a baptism by fire."

"True. But if we get Hammond’s newest recruit killed on his first mission I’ll be doing paper work until the second coming." Sam choked back a grin and directed her attention back to the gate as it began to activate.

"Uuh, Colonel."

She met Jack’s annoyed gaze. "Just can’t be simple can it?" he asked rhetorically as the wormhole opened. They watched two Jaffa proceed out of the gate followed by a golden armored Goa’uld and two more Jaffa. "Great. Why couldn’t snake boy have waited a few more minutes?" Jack complained.

"Sir. The claymores?"

"Timer right?"

Sam nodded and looked at her watch. "Yes sir, two minutes to detonation."

Jack quietly cocked his rifle. "Too late to change it now. Let’s just hope Snaky gets curious," he said resignedly. And please god don’t anyone dial in before we can get out.

Jarod watched in amazement as the wormhole discharged a quintet of the enemy. He wondered how on Earth they could even move in those ornate helmets and body armor.

"It’s Heru’ur all right," he heard Daniel mutter.

"Huh?"

"We’ve crossed paths a time or two before," Daniel stated, the tone of his voice telling Jarod there was more, much more to the story.

"The explosives will detonate in one minute," Teal’c stated.

Jarod watched Daniel pull and cock his sidearm. "You’re going to shoot them?" he asked, in disbelief. He had a hard time reconciling the quiet man he’d spoken to last night with someone willing to kill another sentient being.

Daniel met Jarod’s gaze, something hard and bitter glimmering in his eyes. "Killing isn’t my first choice. Then again neither is dying. Believe me, they won’t hesitate a second," he said coldly, indicating the group between them and home. Jarod looked towards Teal’c, as if wishing confirmation of Daniel’s words.

"DanielJackson speaks the truth. If they refrain from killing us it will be only to capture and torture us," Teal’c stated baldly.

Convinced by Teal’c’s dispassionate statement Jarod quietly reached down and cocked his weapon. "Well he’s not exactly Cobra Commander, but what the heck."

Puzzled, Teal’c and Daniel looked at each other, then mutually shrugged and focused their attention forward.

"Detonation in 4...3...2...1..."

Silence.

Jack looked at Sam when the claymores didn’t go off on schedule. "Carter..." He started then stopped at the distant boom of the explosives.

"And a half," she finished with a shrug.

"Go buy a new watch when we get back," he whispered as they watched eight of the Jaffa run past them towards the explosions. As soon as they were out of sight Jack thumbed his radio. "Teal’c...now," he ordered as he stood up, firing his MP-5 at the remaining eight Jaffa. He sensed, rather than saw Carter peek from behind a tree and open fire also. As soon as the Jaffas’ attention was directed towards Jack and Sam, Teal’c and Mason opened fire, creating a cross fire that split the Jaffas’ attention.

Heru’ur strode angrily out of his tent, activating his personal shield as he walked.

"Jaffa, Kree!" he ordered. The eight Jaffa formed around their leader, creating a tight wedge that proceeded from the gate.

Once the enemy was 20 yards or so away, Daniel dashed from his cover and began to dial as Jack, Sam, Teal’c and Mason slowly worked their way around the fighting and towards the gate.

Daniel slammed his hand down on the ruby red center mechanism and the wormhole opened with its characteristic watery blue whoosh. He quickly punched in the iris code and crouched by the DHD, looking for his friends.

He heard a sudden rustle to his left and turned, aiming his pistol. He jerked the muzzle straight up at the sight of Teal’c and Mason leaving the tree line and dashing towards him. The two men crouched next to Daniel.

"Where is O’Neill?" Teal’c asked harshly.

Daniel shook his head. "Don’t know."

"There!" Mason yelled as the two people in question cleared the trees, firing at the Jaffas barely visible in the thicket. Jack glanced at the gate.

"Danny, Mason, Carter...GO!" he ordered, ducking as Teal’c’s staff blasts whizzed over his head causing the Jaffas to ease up on their firing. Teal’c stalked toward Jack, offering cover fire to allow his CO to continue retreating.

Daniel turned from his position behind the DHD...to come face to face with Heru’ur. An extremely incensed Heru’ur.

"You plague me Tau’ri scum," he snarled as he raised his left hand, the ribbon weapon glowing ominously.

"RUN!" Sam screamed as she opened fire, her bullets bouncing harmlessly off Heru’ur’s personal shield, just as she feared they would. The Goa’uld ignored her efforts and fired a blast towards Daniel. The main portion of the blast struck Daniel, tossing him through the air to land in a heap beyond the DHD. "NO!" Sam yelled as she let her rifle go to pull her knife from its sheath. Hoping her lessons with the colonel would pay off, she threw the knife at Heru’ur.

A resonating exclamation of pain filled the air as her knife imbedded itself in the Goa’uld’s thigh. His eyes glowed in renewed anger as he fired his ribbon weapon at her. Sam threw herself to the side but still was struck by the force of the blast. She too collapsed to the ground.

Jarod looked at his two unconscious companions lying helplessly in the dirt as Heru’ur angrily pulled the offending knife out of his flesh and tossed it negligently aside. He limped forward.

Jarod saw the alien man stand over Daniel, the weapon in his left hand starting to glow again. Jarod drew his knife and carefully stepped behind Heru’ur. The Goa’uld raised his hand as Jarod thrust his knife through a chink in Heru’ur’s armor with all his strength. Heru’ur spun around, his out stretched arm knocking Jarod to the ground. He roared in outrage and aimed his hand at Jarod. He couldn’t move as he waited eternal seconds for the fatal blast to come.

Instead a dark hand snaked around Heru’ur’s throat and twisted the Goa’uld’s neck until it snapped.

Jarod saw Teal’c let the alien drop to the dirt and step over the body as casually as one would step over a distasteful bit of trash lying on the sidewalk.

"Are you injured?" he asked politely as he offered his hand to Jarod. Jarod glanced from the crumpled body of Heru’ur to the man who had so casually dispatched him just a moment ago. Jarod took Teal’c’s proffered hand and let the Jaffa pull him to his feet.

"I’m fine," Jarod replied. Teal’c nodded and handed Jarod his staff weapon. Puzzled Jarod took it and watched Teal’c walk to Daniel, still unconscious on the ground.

He picked up the man with a gentleness that belied his earlier ferocity.

"The Jaffa who left will return momentarily, we must depart now," Teal’c stated as he carried Daniel towards the open gate.

"Major Carter, Colonel O’Neill..." Jarod started as he turned to where his companion had fallen.

"Mason, go," O’Neill ordered as he hurried towards the man, an unconscious Carter slung over his shoulders. Jarod fell into step beside him as they walked up the few steps leading to the stargate. The last sound he heard as he crossed the event horizon was the distant shouts of the returning Jaffa.

"It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen General. He just walked behind Heru’ur and knifed him in the back," Jack reported, a slight tinge of admiration apparent in his voice.

"I thought a Goa’uld personal shield protected its user?"

"Well sir, we know the strength of the field is directly proportional to the amount of force directed towards it. That is why a knife or arrow can penetrate the field while staff blasts or bullets are repelled," Sam reported, fighting the urge to rub her head in an effort to ease the pounding in her temples.

She didn’t know if it was the force of the blast or the roughness of the landing but every time she’d been the target of a ribbon device, she was left with a headache the size of Cheyenne Mountain. She shot a concerned glance towards Daniel. He’d expressed similar symptoms too. She wondered if his headache was as bad as hers. "We’ve just never had evidence that people can walk right through their shields," she continued.

"That’s because nobody’s ever tried before," Jack stated. "We’re usually trying to get away from a Goa’uld, not closer."

"It is another sign of their arrogance," Teal’c said. "Which may one day be their downfall."

"How so?"

"They do not believe anyone who wishes to harm them will be able to penetrate their personal guard to do so."

"Proved them wrong on that one," Jack said.

"So Heru’ur’s dead?" Jarod asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Probably not. His surviving guards would most likely have taken him through the gate to a sarcophagus."

"Yeah, Snaky will be up and around and harassing us in no time," Jack said disgustedly.

"But he’s dead," Jarod stated, confused.

"We’re still trying to teach the Goa’ulds how to die...permanently. They’re worse than athletes foot, every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it..."

"Colonel," Hammond cautioned as he cut Jack off.

Sam choked back a grin. "Captain Mason, the sarcophagus the Goa’uld use has amazing recuperative powers. It’s capable of healing most wounds and can revive a person, even from death."

"Sounds like something that would be handy to have around."

Daniel looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, it does have its...disadvantages," he said. They remembered all to well just how badly a sarcophagus could mess up a person. Jarod looked at the other people in the room. Clearly they were remembering a rather unpleasant event from the past.

"Since we can’t exactly zip to the local Wal-Mart and pick one up, this conversation is pretty useless," Jack said, breaking the tension in the room.

"I agree Colonel," Hammond said. "SG-1 and Captain Mason, you’re on stand down for the next 48 hours. Colonel, I’d like a word with you." Hammond stood up as did the occupants of the briefing room. They filed out, leaving Jack and Hammond alone.

"Interesting mission Colonel," Hammond said.

Jack shrugged. "Nothing like surprise Goa’uld guest appearances to liven up a milk run," Jack dismissed as he leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How did he do?"

"He’s got balls...sir. General, I don’t know how Heru’ur got around us. Maybe he’s fiddling with that invisibility stuff too. What I do know is that Mason saved Danny’s life."

Hammond nodded. "What is your recommendation about the leadership of SG-2? Is Mason capable?"

"General, he handled Daniel, Carter and Teal’c without a second thought. None of them have complained about his behavior or attitude. And he certainly proved himself under fire..." Jack trailed off.

"But?" Hammond prodded.

Jack shook his head. "It’s nothing I can put my finger on sir, there’s just something...off about him."

"Colonel, it sounds like Mason would be a good candidate for the leadership of SG-2. I would like him to go on a few more missions with SG-1. Have Major Carter, Dr. Jackson and Teal’c continue to work with him. I’ll need an answer by the end of the month," Hammond ordered.

"Yes sir," Jack replied.

Hammond smiled at his second in command. "Jack, go home, enjoy your downtime. Lord knows it’s been a rough few months. I’ll see what I can do about arranging some real time off for you and your team in a few weeks. You all deserve it."

"Thank you sir," Jack replied sincerely, gratitude evident in his voice.

The last few months had really sucked. Between Netu, the Tollans, alien invasions, Urgo, Edora, Bedrosia and that whole Maybourne fiasco, Jack knew he and the rest of SG-1 were teetering on the edge of burnout. They needed more than a few days or hours here and there. None of them had had a real vacation since Apophis’ first disastrous visit three years ago.

"Quite a collection you have here," he said.

Daniel looked up from his computer screen. "What?" he asked distractedly.

Jarod motioned at the cluttered room. "You have a very impressive collection of artifacts here. More than I’ve seen in some museums."

Daniel scanned the room as if noticing just how many items he did have. He shrugged as he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "One result of the galaxy being seeded with ancient humans. I’ve found artifacts from dozens of cultures scattered across thousands of light years. For a race that hasn’t even conquered interplanetary space flight, humans sure have left their mark on the universe."

Jarod sat on a convenient chair. "You know, I’ve wanted to talk to you about that. Our experience with...Heru’ur today made me think."

"About what?"

"Well, if I’m going to be running across real live ancient gods it might help if I knew who was who."

"A general word of warning...if their eyes glow, run like hell," Daniel advised wryly.

Jarod chuckled. "I got that part. But wouldn’t it be easier for you if the field teams actually knew the difference between an Egyptian Hieroglyph and Cuneiform? Maybe if they...we...were more discriminating, you wouldn’t get so much useless junk brought back," Jarod said picking up a small statue Daniel had already dismissed as a worthless piece of fired clay.

"It would be nice if everyone had a course in archaeology. I shudder at how many priceless artifacts are left behind because no one knows what they’re looking at," Daniel agreed.

"Dr. Jackson, would you be willing to teach me?" Jarod asked.

"Teach you what?"

"Well if I’m going to be going through the gate, maybe you can give me a crash course in ancient cultures. Two sets of eyes are better than one," Jarod offered.

Daniel paused a moment. This was the first time anyone in the SGC had showed a real interest in the cultures they were going to be interacting with. Mostly the other team leaders’ main concern was which people were more likely to shoot first. And Daniel knew Jarod stood a good chance to get command of SG-2. If he had a team leader willing to help him...heck it couldn’t hurt. "Sure Jarod. I’d love to teach you anything you want to know. When do you want to start?"

Jarod shrugged. "No time like the present," he offered, fighting to keep his elation out of his voice.

Daniel struggled with himself. He did want some time alone, then again, it wasn’t often he found someone who shared his love of cultures. "Tell you what, I’ve been spending way too much time buried under this mountain. How would you like to come over to my place? I’ve got better artifacts there, and it’s a heck of a lot more comfortable then here," Daniel offered.

"Sounds great. Do you mind if I hitch a ride? I haven’t gotten around to getting a car yet," Jarod asked.

Daniel nodded. "No problem. Are you ready to go now? We could get some dinner on the way there. I know a great Indian place in Colorado Springs."

"I’m ready to go whenever you are," Jarod said.

Jack hung up the phone for the eighth time. Daniel still wasn’t answering. Jack had been trying to call his friend all day to see if Daniel wanted to grab some lunch...make that a late lunch.

Giving up on Daniel, Jack punched Sam’s number. He tapped his foot impatiently as the phone rang and rang. Finally on the sixth ring Jack heard a click and a clatter as the phone was obviously dropped. Then a sleepy voice mumbled...something.

"Carter, that you?" he asked, hoping he hadn’t rang the wrong number.

"Huh? Whoever this is, it better be good," he heard Sam grouse.

"Damn Carter, I know you’re grumpy in the morning but it’s 1300 hours for crying out loud."

"Colonel? What’s going on?" she asked, sleep leaving her voice. He could almost see her pushing her fingers through her hair as the tried to fully wake up.

"Is everything OK Carter? You don’t usually sleep the day away."

"Oh. I had a migraine, Janet gave me something...it must have knocked me out."

"Since when do you have migraines?" Jack asked concerned.

"Since Jolinar. Colonel, was there something you needed?" Sam said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Daniel all day. Did he tell you anything? If he was going somewhere?"

"Aah, no. I saw him and Mason leaving the mountain yesterday. I think Jarod was going over to Daniel’s place."

"OK. Look I’ve got a key. I’ll just go over there and check. You go back to sleep," he said as he started to hang up the phone.

"Colonel, wait. Your key won’t work."

"Why not?"

"Daniel lost his keys. He had to get new locks," she explained.

"Oh. Something else that happened while I was gone huh?" Jack asked, not really fond of another reminder of his stint as the SGC’s own Robinson Cruso.

"Yeah."

"You mind if I come over and pick it up?" Jack asked, frustrated at the way events were playing out.

"No, Colonel, no problem."

"Great. I’ll be there in a half hour or so."

Jack bounded up the flight of stairs to Sam’s apartment two at a time. He stopped outside her door and rang the bell. "Coming." he heard through the door. The knob turned and the door opened a few inches. "Come on in. I’m almost ready," he heard Sam say through the open door. Jack pushed it open and walked into Sam’s apartment.

"Carter, I just needed the key. I didn’t mean for you...I mean you don’t need to come along." Sam was sitting on her couch, putting on her shoes and socks.

"It’s OK. I needed to get moving," she said, standing up. "Anyway, anyone who wakes me out of a sound sleep has to buy me lunch, or whatever," she said with an impish grin. Jack frowned and raised his eyebrow in as unconscious imitation of Teal’c. "Carter, the only time you try to mooch food off of me is when you don’t bother to get groceries."

She shrugged. "So. Basic survival. I’m hungry. I don’t have anything edible in the place and I’m sure you and Daniel are going to get something to eat."

"Fine. Whatever," Jack agreed, mock-grudgingly. Privately he was a little glad she’d invited herself. She’d been a bit distant in recent weeks. Sam smiled and walked past him. "Just let me grab my jacket," she said as she opened the hall closet door. Jack took one last look around. His gaze stopped at the half-dozen or so plants gracing Sam’s bay window. Unlike the last time he’d been here, they weren’t lush and healthy, rather, with the exception of a large cactus, they were bedraggled and sparse. The floor was littered with various shriveled and brown dead leaves. "What happened to your plants? Stop talking to them?"

"What? Oh no. Just forgot to water them for a while. I think they’re mad at me. Ready to go?"

Jack frowned slightly. "Yeah," he replied as he followed her out the door.

"So. When did you stop getting groceries?" Jack asked while negotiating the midday traffic as they drove across town to Daniel’s apartment.

"Huh?" Sam asked, directing her attention from the scenery passing outside the window to the man sitting beside her.

"You said you had no groceries. When did that change? You used to have enough food for a family of four in your fridge."

"Oh. The last project I got involved in kept me on base for a while. When I came home I almost needed to call a haz-mat team to clean out my fridge. There was more plant life in there than on most planets we visit. Just haven’t gotten around to stocking back up. Things have been so crazy lately," she explained.

Jack snapped his fingers. "That’s what was strange. When I came back from Edora everything was all cleaned up. The fridge was stocked, the garbage taken out and somebody had been mowing the yard. It’s been bugging me. Things were just too neat for me having walked out of the house one morning and not come back for months."

"I was wondering if you would notice," Sam remarked. "When it became apparent you were going to be gone for a while, Daniel and Teal’c came by and shut up your place. Emptied out the refrigerator, took out the trash, did the laundry...you know. They came by every few days, checked the mail...I think Daniel actually spent a few nights there," Sam laughed.

"What’s so funny?"

"Daniel taught Teal’c how to mow the grass. Actually landed him in the infirmary the first time, some accident with a runaway weed-whacker."

"What about the bills? I thought for sure someone would have repossessed my car or something?"

"Carol up in accounting has your power of attorney. She did all the banking, paid the bills," Sam said remembering how Carol had done exactly the same thing for her. In fact, if it wasn’t for the woman, Sam would have lost her apartment. She still owed her lunch for that one.

Jack was silent for a moment, slightly taken aback at the enormity of effort his friends had put out on his behalf. "So nobody thought of just getting rid of the place?" he asked.

Sam frowned at him. "No. Even if our plan didn’t work, the Tollan were going to have a ship there in a few months. We figured we would find a permanent solution when and if we needed to," she said off-handedly. Jack mentally translated her statement to ‘We weren’t going to get rid of your stuff until we knew for sure if you were dead or alive.’

"I aah...I never asked. Exactly how did you get Teal’c through the gate? It was buried. He should have just smashed into solid rock. Either that or fallen back against the event horizon."

"You can thank Sokar the next time you see him," she replied.

"Huh?"

"Remember when Apophis was here and Sokar almost burned through our iris?" she asked.

"Yeah. Turned the gate room into a sauna."

"Right. Well he used a particle accelerator and bombarded our iris with sub-atomic particles, tiny enough to re-integrate in the microns between the event horizon and the iris. When we realized the Edoran gate was buried, possibly sealed with molten Naquadah, I thought if we used an accelerator we could eat away at the rock and give the wormhole room to fully open. We blasted away and then the whoosh did the rest. Then we realized it was horizontal so Teal’c volunteered to go through and see if he could make it to the surface."

Sam stopped and they fell into silence for a minute. Then a thought occurred to Jack.

"Where did you get an accelerator?" he asked, envisioning a raid on Delmak.

"I built it," she stated simply. "It’s in a storeroom on level 27 now. At least I think that’s where Siler put it...So aah, what were you and Daniel going to do?" she said, changing the subject.

"I was just going to get some lunch...late lunch. Thought maybe he’d like to go to a movie or something... How long did it take you?" he asked, not letting the matter drop.

"How long for what?"

"To build that particle...thing. How long?"

"Oh. A while. What movie were you going to go see?"

"I’m not sure. I don’t even know what’s playing. How long is a while?"

"I don’t know what’s playing either. I think the last movie I saw in the theater was Titanic. Or maybe it was Phantom Menace. You know after a while they all run together..."

"Sam," he interrupted, "how long did it take you to build that thing?"

Sam sighed. "A few weeks."

"How many is a few?"

"Um...about 11 I think, maybe 12. To tell you the truth I really don’t remember."

"Were the parts on back order?" he asked as he looked at Sam. Seeing her questioning frown he explained. "Why did it take so long? Not that I’m complaining or anything. I mean I really didn’t think I was ever going to get back."

"It took us a while to figure out how it worked. All we had was Martouf’s theory of what Sokar used against us. Once we had an idea of what we were doing we sort of...edited the laws of physics. Once I had the ‘how to’ part done, building the actual machine just took a month or so."

Jack pulled his jeep to the curb and parked it in front of Daniel’s building. Sam reached over to unfasten her seatbelt and Jack put his hand on hers, stopping her. She looked up and met his gaze questioningly. "Thank you," he said simply.

"You’re welcome," she replied, just as simply.

He let go of her hand and unfastened his own seatbelt. "Now let’s go see what Danny Boy’s up to," he said as he opened the door.

They walked up to Daniel’s apartment. Sam reached in her back pocket and drew out a key on a tiny rubber Prince of Egypt keychain. Jack gave her a strange look. She shrugged. "Cassie gave it to him for his birthday," she explained. She started to shove the key in the lock. "Aah, Colonel?" she said as the door swung open, a small piece of wood dangling from a broken lock. He met her uncertain gaze and they both stepped back from the now open door. Sam reached under her coat and pulled her sidearm from the small of her back.

"Since when do you carry your gun on planet?"

"Since we found a Goa’uld in Seattle," she whispered.

"Well, mine’s in my glove box. Stay here," he ordered. "I’ll be right back." Jack quickly ran to his car and retrieved his firearm. He hurried back to Daniel’s door, relieved that Sam had obeyed his order.

They cautiously entered Daniel’s cluttered domain. They efficiently swept the dwelling and found it empty. Assured there were no intruders still inside, they started to investigate. Smelling a familiar bitter odor, Sam holstered her pistol and went into the kitchen. "He left his coffee maker on. It’s boiled dry."

"Yeah, he left his computer on too," Jack said from the den. Sam turned off the coffee maker and went into the room. "Looks like he was doing some research. He timed out on an Egyptian Mythology web page."

"The broken lock suggests somebody forced their way in, but I don’t see any signs of a struggle," Sam said hopefully.

"Yeah, but he still left in a hurry. Any idea what would get him to run out, without calling one of us?"

Sam shook her head. "Maybe he’s at the mountain?"

"You call, find out. If he’s not there then we need to inform Hammond. Something’s wrong." Sam nodded and walked out of the den to use the phone in Daniel’s living room. Jack stood up and almost bumped into Sam who was walking backwards into the room, her hands in the air. He stepped back and aimed his gun at the person who herself had a weapon trained on Sam.

"Drop it, or I blow blondie’s brains all over the wall," he heard a slender brunette threaten coldly as she strode into the den, her pistol trained unwaveringly at Sam’s head. Jack glanced from Sam to the mini skirted brunette, calculating trajectories and odds. He quickly decided to err on the side of caution and he un-cocked his gun and let the weapon spin on his finger. "Broots," the brunette said, stepping aside to let a timid looking man enter the room.

"Miss Parker?" he asked in a tentative voice.

"The gun Broots," she said, echoing the exasperated tone Jack had sometimes found himself using with Daniel.

"Oh." He stepped forward and reached out for Jack’s pistol almost apologetically. Jack met Sam’s eyes and at her tiny nod, he smiled disarmingly at Broots. As the balding man in a loud retro shirt reached out to take the gun, Jack slowly pulled his arm in, forcing the man to come closer. In a blur of movement Jack reached out with his left arm, wrapping it around the man’s neck as he spun his pistol back into his grasp with a smooth practiced movement.

At the same instant Sam brought up her right leg, kicking Miss Parker’s silver Smith and Wesson from her grasp, sending it careening across the den and drew her own sidearm. Sam pointed her pistol at the brunette’s head, her aim just as unwavering as Miss Parker’s had been. "Want to see what YOUR brains look like splattered on the wall? Assuming you have enough TO splatter," Sam said in a sweet voice that sent chills down Jack’s spine.

"You don’t have the guts," Miss Parker drawled, placing her hands on her hips. Sam cocked her pistol.

"Keep your hands where I can see them or you’ll have to learn to write with your nose."

"Perhaps you should listen to the lady Parker," a distinguished voice tinged with a foreign accent said from the doorway. Jack tightened his grip on the terrified Broots as he pulled the man more securely in front of him as an older man stepped into view, his hands raised to indicate his lack of hostile intent. Sam took a quick step back and adjusted her aim between the two people now in the doorway.

"Before we start shootin’ and killin’ each other, think you could tell me just who you are and what the hell you’re doing here?" Jack demanded.

"I could ask the same question of you," Miss Parker replied.

"Parker," the older man chided as he pushed past her into the room.

"Careful," Sam warned. He merely held his hands out a bit farther.

"I assure you miss, I have no desire to harm anyone. My name is Sydney and my friends and I are merely looking for an acquaintance of ours. Perhaps you have seen him?" he asked as he slowly reached for his jacket pocket.

"Aah," Jack warned, pointing his weapon at the man.

He halted the motion. "I’m merely reaching for a picture," he said.

"Anything but paper comes out of that pocket and you’re not gonna like it."

Sydney nodded and slowly pulled a picture out of his suit coat pocket. He held up a black and white 5x7 snapshot.

"As I said, we’re looking for a friend of ours. His name is Jarod. Have you seen him?" Jack focused on the picture and did indeed recognize the man. He met Sam’s questioning look and nodded slightly.

"Maybe. But then again I have a bad eye for faces," Jack replied not wanting to confirm the man’s suspicion. "Why are you looking for him?"

"Why don’t you let Broots go before he wets himself and we’ll answer your questions," Miss Parker said in a tone that suggested she had little patience for the current situation. Jack shrugged, released his grip on the timid man and pushed him away with a small shove.

Broots scampered across the room like a frightened child seeking protection from its parents. He rubbed his offended neck. "Ow. Did you have to be so rough?" he complained.

"Stuff it Broots," Miss Parker said.

"You were going to tell us about this Jarod," Jack reminded the strange threesome before him. Sydney opened his mouth then stopped as the brunette cut him off with a cold stare.

"We work for a philanthropic organization called The Centre. Jarod is one of our patients. He...checked himself out a few weeks ago. We’ve been sent to retrieve him. Now have you seen him?"

Jack met Sam’s skeptical gaze. This made absolutely no sense. Jack himself had seen Jarod’s service record. The man was a ten year veteran of the United States Air Force for crying out loud. There was no way in hell he’d just escaped from some center.

"Well I have no idea about this Jarod guy. What I do know is that you’re in my friend’s place. A place that has just been tossed and my friend is missing. Right now I’d like some answers from you."

"We heard Jarod was here. When we saw the broken lock we thought something was wrong," Miss Parker said.

"Right," Jack drawled. "Well, he’s not here. So why don’t you, Syd and Mr. Bad Taste leave before we see what the police have to say about it," Jack said in a voice that told them it wasn’t a suggestion.

The three strangers looked at each other, then Sydney nodded. He reached in his pocket as the brunette stepped forward.

"Hold it!" Sam said, her weapon still trained on the stranger.

"I’m just getting my gun blondie," she explained in exasperation.

"You. Stay," Jack instructed. "Carter, get her gun." Sam nodded and carefully crossed the room. Keeping one eye on the intruders, she bent over and picked up Parker’s weapon. She ejected and pocketed the clip. After making sure the chamber was empty and the gun pretty much useless, she tossed it towards the woman. Miss Parker caught it and shot Sam a poisonous look.

"The clip?" Sam shook her head.

"Uh huh. Mine. I always wanted one of these," she replied, shoving the clip into her jacket pocket.

"Why I outta..."

"Parker," the older man cut his friend off. He pulled a small card out of his pocket and held it out to Jack. "My card."

"Sorry. Don’t need any insurance," Jack quipped.

"If you find Jarod, call me," he requested. Jack grudgingly took the card. "Parker, Broots, shall we take our leave?" he asked as he turned to leave the room.

Jack and Sam followed the trio to the door and watched as they got into a blue sedan and drove away.

"You get the tags?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied "We might even get prints off of the card and these bullets, if she loaded her own gun."

"Oh she definitely loads her own gun," he replied. "We need to call Hammond. Something is really wrong here. And I want another look at Mason’s file. If that SOB has done something to Daniel, I’ll deliver him to Heru’ur personally."

General George Hammond exited the elevator and strode towards his office. As expected, he barely made it twenty yards down the hall before he was approached by an extremely concerned SG-1.

"General?" Jack asked.

George shook his head. "In my office Colonel," he said shortly in a voice that warned Jack not to even try to argue. George entered his office, hung up his hat and coat and proceeded to sit behind his desk. Jack, Sam and Teal’c filed into the room. Teal’c quietly pushed the door shut, standing at parade rest in the back of the room. Sam took a seat and Jack started to pace restlessly.

"Well people, I think we have a serious problem here."

"Oh ya think sir. Daniel is missing, so is Mason. And those freaks of nature know more than they’re telling."

Hammond bristled at Jack’s antagonistic tone. "Colonel O’Neill, I am well aware of the situation."

"Sir," Sam cut in. "Did you learn anything from your friend?" she asked in a placating tone.

"Yes Major. It seems this place, The Centre, is a think tank in Blue Cove, Delaware. I think it’s safe to assume the people you had your run in with are employees of The Centre."

"What on Earth could they want with Daniel?"

"I don’t know Colonel."

"What about Captain Mason?" Teal’c asked.

"I’m getting the feeling Jarod isn’t all he appears to be," Sam said quietly.

"If he faked his service records, how the hell did he get into this facility? I thought we screened our people better than that, especially after...all that’s happened," Jack said, referring to his last mission.

"I can’t answer that Colonel. His records were in order. However, I’ve called a couple of his past commanders. They have no recollection of a Jarod Mason. I’m thinking he assumed the persona of an Air Force Captain to gain access to this facility and possibly Dr. Jackson."

"Well isn’t that special?" Jack asked rhetorically.

"General Hammond, what do we do now?" Sam asked.

"Officially, nothing," Hammond said.

"Sir..."

"Now wait just a minute..."

"General..."

George held up his hand cutting off their protests. "Colonel O’Neill, I told you yesterday I was going to get SG-1 some extended down time. You have one week. I hear Delaware is nice this time of year," he said, a conspiratorial look on his round face.

"O’Neill, I would like to see this Delaware of yours," Teal’c stated.

"I’ve always wanted to see the cherry blossoms," Sam said.

"Spring in the East. Sounds like fun," Jack said.

"There’s a plane waiting at the airport. Call me when you get there. I’ll contact a few friends, find out some attractions you may want to check out," Hammond instructed, handing Jack a piece of paper with a phone number on it. "One week SG-1. After that my hands will be tied," he warned.

"Yes sir," Jack answered, rubbing his hands together. "Let’s go look at the pretty trees kids," he said, throwing a grateful look at his CO. Sam and Teal’c left the room with Jack trailing behind.

"Jack."

Jack turned. "Sir?"

"Bring him back," Hammond instructed simply. Jack nodded and followed his team into the hallway.

"I always do...eventually."

Daniel groaned and rolled over. He wondered what he was doing sleeping on the base. He was trying to break that habit. No, something was wrong. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. The room smelled wrong, sounded wrong. He didn’t sense the presence of the upper bunk. He always slept in the lower berth. He tried sleeping on top once. Jack had laughed for weeks at the black eye he’d gotten when he fell out. He cautiously opened his eyes and was greeted by blackness. He panicked for a second, frantically looking from side to side, thinking perhaps he’d gone blind. There, a dim light seeped under what had to be a door. He forced himself to close his eyes and wait for them to adjust to the near total darkness. With his eyes closed, his hearing took over. He could make out the loud sound of his own raspy breathing. He held his breath and heard extremely faint voices from outside the door.

He got off the bed and stood up, alarmed at how fuzzy and light headed he felt. It brought back horrible memories of just how sick he’d been after the whole sarcophagus affair.

He slowly crossed the room and crouched on the cold concrete floor, placing his ear near the tiny gap under the steel door, struggling to hear the voices. Thank God, they were speaking in English. For a second he’d feared he would hear Goa’uld.

"He should be awake by now," voice #1 said.

"I hope so. Mr. Lyle wants to see him," voice #2 replied, the tone of his voice telling Daniel they didn’t relish the thought of disappointing this Mr. Lyle.

The voices grew louder and were accompanied by footsteps. ‘Guess it’s time to meet my hosts,’ he thought as he scrambled to his feet. He hurried to the bed and yanked off the rough blanket. He returned to the doorway, hoping he’d seen Jack and Teal’c do this enough times for it to work.

His heart leapt into his throat as he heard the metallic rasping of a key in the lock.

The door swung open, with a metallic click and flooded the room with light.

Daniel lunged forward, throwing the blanket over the head of the man. He shoved him further into the room and turned to run out the open door. His bid for freedom screeched to a halt as he made out the dark shape of a gun in the other man’s hand. That’s what he did wrong. He’d forgotten there were two bad guys.

A hand on his shoulder spun him around and a fist in his middle sent him to his knees.

"Don’t damage him or Lyle will have our heads," the man in the doorway warned his friend.

"Believe me, after they’re done with him, he’ll look back on this fondly," the rumpled man said as he reached down to roughly yank Daniel to his feet. "You have an appointment, Dr. Jackson," he said.

Not wanting to look his captor in the eyes, Daniel turned his head and looked at the room he’d awoken in. His eyes stopped at he saw a small shape on the wall. Something was familiar, some long forgotten and buried memory...he had to see this closer. He brought up his right hand and broke the man’s grasp. Daniel staggered into the room and threw himself onto the bed. Trembling fingers traced the four letters scratched into the concrete wall.

"Oh God no," he whispered as fragmented memories flooded into his disbelieving brain.

Two sets of even rougher hands pulled him off the bed and proceeded to drag him backwards from the room. His eyes remained focused on the word long past when he could even see it. He didn’t need to. It was burned into his brain. One word that triggered a flood of fear, terror and loneliness...Gene.

George Hammond picked up his secure phone and dialed the number he’d just looked up. Even though the hour was late, he knew Bailey would be there. His old friend spent almost as much time at work as George did. After six rings and three transfers he heard the gravely voice of Special Agent Bailey Malone, FBI and leader of the Violent Crimes Task Force.

"George, how the hell are you?"

"Fine, Bailey, fine. How is life treating you?"

"Things have been a little...different lately, but not bad."

"Good, good. How is your team? Especially your Dr. Waters. She really helped us out with the whole Jonus situation."

"Sam moved on. She’s going to spend some time with her daughter. We have a new profiler, Rachel Burke. She’s good. George, please don’t tell me you have another classified serial killer out there in Colorado?" he begged, remembering the last time his old comrade had called him. Bailey and the rest of the VCTF had spent a week in Colorado Springs unofficially helping the SGC capture one of their own who had racked up quite a death toll before he committed suicide.

"No, no Bailey. Nothing like that. I do need another favor," George said, really wishing he didn’t have to ask.

"Sure George, what can I do for you? Course you need to bear in mind the going rate is now at least four of the beauties you gave me last time," Bailey said reminding Hammond of his intense love of Cuban cigars.

"Bailey, you come through for me on this and I’ll send you a box. I just need some information and I remember how good your guy is."

"Georgie’s one in a million. If it’s on a computer anywhere in the world, he can find it. What do you need?"

"Some information on a place called The Centre in Blue Cove, Delaware. Also three people that might be employees, a Miss Parker, Sydney and Broots. There is also a Captain Jarod Mason, though I’m beginning to doubt that’s his real name. I’ve got Mason’s military jacket I can send to you along with a couple things that might have fingerprints on them."

"What’s this all about...or should I even ask?" Bailey said.

"One of my people is missing, a very important person. This Centre is the only clue I have to tracking him down," George admitted.

"Let me come there, use my team..."

"Bailey," George cut his friend off, "we’ve gotten ourselves into some...strange things. It would probably be for the best if you kept your distance."

"Made yourself some enemies?" Bailey asked.

"It’s starting to look that way," George said sadly.

"OK George. I’ll get back to you with this info as fast as I can. How are those items arriving?"

"I’ll Fed-ex them over. You’ll get it in the morning."

"Great, I’ll look out for it. George, you watch your six. Don’t forget you have a friend in Atlanta."

"I won’t Bailey. And you take care of yourself."

Mr. Lyle sat at his desk struggling to hide his annoyance and impatience at the man before him. Colonel Harry Maybourne may have been an invaluable source of intelligence, technology and government contracts in the past, but he was now becoming a liability. A liability and a bore. Mr. Lyle regretted losing one thumb to the Yasaka, twiddling them would give him something to do while Maybourne prattled on and on.

With his recent fall from grace, Maybourne’s usefulness had decreased almost to nothing. In fact only the presence of freshly laid carpet kept Mr. Lyle from pulling out his gun and killing the weasely little man...No...a knife would be better...slower. He would scream so beautifully...and beg. Mr. Lyle liked it when they begged.

He studied the colonel. The extremities...it was best to start there...if one avoided the veins and arteries a subject lasted much longer. He so hated it when they died before he finished.

Mr. Lyle stopped his planning as he realized Maybourne had stopped talking and was gazing at him expectedly.

"I apologize. You were saying?" he inquired politely, hiding his complete disdain for the man under a well practiced mask of civility.

Harry sighed inwardly and buried his frustration. People kept underestimating him. Kept ignoring him. All his life he’d been written off as ‘the nerd’. He’d crawl home, bloody and bruised after having his daily run in with Phil Richson only to have his own father berate him for not being a man. Well, Harry had showed him. Lacking physical strength, he turned his attention to gathering secrets. Secrets were true power. They were the only real currency in this world. If secrets were dollars, he could buy this place. Harry comforted himself with that fact.

"I was saying Mr. Lyle that I have a device. One I feel will be extremely useful in interrogations."

"And this interests me...how?" Lyle asked dismissively.

"What I need from you is a test subject. Provide me with that and I’ll share this with you," Harry said as he pulled his briefcase onto his lap, snapped it open, pulled out a small box and laid it on Mr. Lyle’s desk.

His curiosity piqued, Mr. Lyle reached out and took the box. He opened it. Inside, cushioned on a gray sponge-like substance was two small golden discs about the size of a dime and a flat item that looked like a control pad. It was about the size of a video tape, but thinner. Its surface was a flat metallic gray with alien looking symbols under an array of tiny buttons.

"And this is?" Mr. Lyle asked, intrigued.

"A device I...acquired. With it I am able to control my subject."

"I can do that," Lyle said casually.

Knowing he now had the man’s full attention, Harry continued. "Mentally. Totally. If I insert the disc in a subject’s brain, near the cerebral cortex, I am able to control his physical responses and memories. If I tell someone he was born in 1987, he will believe me. If I tell him to walk on hot coals, he will and not even notice his feet burning. I can tell a person he is a fish and he will try to breathe water until he drowns. I will have total control."

Mr. Lyle fell silent as his mind considered the possibilities. Determined to hide his eagerness he said casually, "It sounds more like science fiction."

Harry began to protest, Lyle held up his hand to still him. "However, I often find myself a fan of science fiction. I will find you a subject within a week."

Harry cheered inwardly and smiled a tiny smile on the outside. "Then we have a partnership," he said as he stood up, retrieving his box and the sole bit of technology he’d managed to keep from the Asgard. He returned it to his briefcase and pulled a card out of his breast pocket. "Here’s where I’m staying..." he started then stopped as the door to Mr. Lyle’s office opened.

"I’m sorry sir, he broke loose and we had to knock him out," one of the thugs said as they dragged an unconscious Daniel Jackson between them.

"IDIOTS!" Mr. Lyle raged. "You are never to enter my office without my express consent!" Harry stood silently, observing the fatigue clad person before him. Surely not? His eyes had to be deceiving him. He felt a tiny glimmer of satisfaction grow in his belly as the pathetic, limp figure didn’t change. He hadn’t felt this giddy since he’d committed his father to the mental institution.

"We’re sorry Mr. Lyle. We didn’t know you had a guest. Our apologies sir." They directed the latter comment towards Maybourne as they proceeded to drag Daniel back out of the room.

"WAIT!" Harry said, snapping out of his shock. He fairly dashed across the room, grasping Daniel’s dangling head by his hair and pulled it up to confirm the man’s identity. He was a bit bruised but it was him. Harry smothered a wide grin and turned back to Mr. Lyle. "This man. He is the test subject," Harry said, reveling in finally getting a chance to pay the SGC and especially SG-1 back for two years of humiliation. ‘Oh yes...Dr. Jackson would be the perfect test subject.

Sam and Teal’c tensed at the knock on the motel room door. She met her companion’s gaze as he nodded, then stepped into the small bathroom. Picking up her gun, she held it down at her side and walked to the door. She looked through the peephole and sighed in relief at the sight of Jack. "It’s the colonel," she said as she unlocked and opened the door. "Did you get it?" she asked as Jack walked into the room.

"Oh yeah," he replied as he held up a small sheaf of papers. "Anything and everything Hammond’s friend could dig up on The Centre and our buddy Mason," Jack said as he tossed his coat on one of the beds and claimed a chair.

"Anything interesting?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. I just scanned them a bit. Here," he said, dividing the papers amongst them. Sam took hers and sat cross-legged on the other bed. Teal’c folded himself into the second chair in the room. The standard motel room was silent save for the rustling of faxed papers and the distant whine of traffic navigating the nearby interstate highway.

"Get this...a Catherine Parker committed suicide inside that place April 13, 1970."

"Got anything more up to date Carter?"

"Sir, there’s not much here. The one really strange fact is just a lot of deaths."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, his interest caught.

"Well there was Catherine Parker, a stillborn child of hers in 1960, a car wreck in 1966 in which an intern died, a daughter of one of their doctors, a Mr. Raines was a victim of a serial killer, a girl named Faith died of leukemia, a lab tech was killed in a fire in 1982, and a janitor died in 1996," Sam listed.

"Yeah so? I hate to sound morbid Carter, but our death toll’s a hell of a lot higher."

"Yes sir it is. But we’re basically a front line military base. This Centre is a private corporation credited with dozens of beneficial and philanthropic endeavors. I mean they should have a few paper cuts and an occasional heart attack. And especially, there shouldn’t be any children dying there."

"OK. So that’s weird," Jack conceded.

"What’s weird sir is this Centre has been the recipient of dozens of classified government contracts over the last 30 years."

"Oh sweet. So there’s definitely something fishy about this place."

"Fishier than Sea World sir."

"I find this confusing O’Neill."

"What is it Teal’c?"

"This file lists a variety of names other than Captain Mason’s own. Is it an Earth custom to select a different name each time one changes professions?"

"No Teal’c it isn’t. Let me see it." Teal’c handed the paper to Jack. He scanned the list. "Seems our Captain Mason has had quite an identity crisis in the past four years. I’ve got FBI agent Jarod Webster, US Navy Officer Jarod Forrester, US Marshal Jarod Cody, another FBI agent Jarod Ness, Army Ranger Jarod Patton, FBI Agent Jarod Rico, a criminal behaviorist Jarod Ressler, Army Intelligence Jarod Turgidson and a Secret Service Agent Jarod Wilkes... and the list goes on." Jack got up, tossed his paper at Sam and started to pace the small room. "I knew it...I just knew something was off about that guy. He had to be too good to be true. And now Daniel is missing...God knows where and the whole freaking stargate project is probably compromised."

"O’Neill," Teal’c’s voice cut off Jack’s rant. "This display will solve nothing."

"You know sir," Sam cut in, "these aliases of Jared’s are strange."

"This whole situation is strange Carter," Jack said, calming down a bit.

"Well, the director of the FBI is William Webster, Buffalo Bill Cody was a US Marshall, Elliott Ness was an FBI agent, General Patton was an Army Ranger, Robert Ressler invented the FBI profiling techniques, there was a character named Turgidson in Dr. Strangelove, and John Wilkes Booth is one main reason for the Secret Service."

"And, so, therefore," Jack said, indicating Sam sum it up.

"Sir, he’s using very obvious names to create his aliases. It’s almost like he wants to let people know he’s faking it. He creates just enough of a background to gain entry then...plays along until he gets what he wants."

"And what exactly does he want with the SGC?"

"I don’t think he wants anything with the SGC. I think we’re just a means to an end. General Hammond was right. He wanted Daniel," Sam stated.

"It appears he has achieved his goal," Teal’c said.

"I don’t give a damn what his goal is. We’re going to get Daniel back," Jack stated resolutely.

Harry Maybourne watched the Centre surgeon put the three tiny stitches in the back of Daniel’s head at the base of his neck. Chances are the young man would never even notice the tiny wound. Of course if he did, Harry could just tell him to ignore it.

The surgeon left and the two men carried Daniel to his new room. It wouldn’t do for Daniel to wake up in a cell. He needed to be cosseted. Thinking he was a prisoner would make him think too much. And Harry didn’t need him to think. He needed him to feel.

Impatient to play with his new toy Harry sat in front of the video monitor and watched Daniel sleep. He pressed a button on the controls and nearly giggled in glee as Daniel’s right hand raised itself off the bed, then flopped back down. Harry tried different buttons. Each time a different response. Oh this was far too delicious. He’d been waiting to knock the cocky young man off his moral pedestal ever since he’d humiliated Harry with the Tollans.

Harry sat back and smiled. ‘Daniel Jackson, you are going to be so sorry you ever crossed me.’

Daniel opened his eyes and struggled to remember where he was. He was used to waking up on whole different worlds, but not different bed rooms. At least not since he was a kid when his foster parents would get tired of him and send him away. But in recent years he’d finally had some stability. Jack’s spare room, his room at the base, and once Sam’s couch, but he’d never woken up here before.

He sat up in the soft bed and scanned the palatial abode. Warm sunlight poured through large windows graced with heavy curtains and delicate sheers. The walls were painted a warm cream color but bare of adornment. No pictures, no art graced the walls, not even a clock. There was nothing on the bed side table either, just a pitcher of water, a glass and his glasses. He gratefully crammed them on his face and slowly threw back the soft blanket and sheets covering him and swung his bare feet over the edge of the bed. He looked down and saw he was wearing expensive silk pajamas. OK that was weird. He didn’t own a pair of silk boxers much less pajamas. Heck, he much preferred cotton.

He stood up and his bare toes curled into thick, lush carpet. He stretched, feeling more relaxed than he had since...he couldn’t remember when.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable in the pajamas, he walked to the dresser and opened the drawers. Ignoring how strange it was, he pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt and underwear. After dressing, he sat on the bed, pulled on socks and a pair of shoes he found. He stood up again, the loafers pinching his toes a bit, like they hadn’t quite formed themselves to his feet. He walked over to the window and slowly pulled back the curtains. He saw rolling green hills...and bars. Why did the windows have bars?

‘To protect you,’ he heard. Daniel spun, searching for the speaker. He was alone in the room, wasn’t he?

"Show yourself," he demanded.

‘You really don’t want me to do that,’ a soft voice said.

"Oh yes I do," Daniel insisted.

‘No Daniel, I can’t.’

"OK, who are you?" Daniel asked.

‘My name is Gaman.’

"And where are you?" Daniel ‘heard’ the voice laugh.

‘I’m inside you silly," it replied.

"WHAT?"

‘I’m your symbiote. Hathor gave me to you.’

Daniel felt the room spin as memories flooded into his brain.

"We ask you once more. Which of you shall be host to our new friend?" Hathor asked seductively.

"It has her eyes," Jack quipped.

"Silence!" she replied angrily as she stood in front of him. "Shall it be our beloved? We could spend an eternity together. Do you not remember? The joys that we will share in one another’s arms?" Hathor reminded him needlessly of his acts in the VIP quarters of the SGC.

"I really try not to," he said, trying not to scream. She dismissed him, moving to Sam.

"Shall it be the female then? She who would challenge us? You have since been possessed by a Gou’ald. Perhaps once again?"

Sam swallowed convulsively. "I’m not afraid," she replied defiantly, trying to hold her voice steady.

Hathor smiled knowingly. "You should be my dear. For the pain a symbiote can inflict on a host is unimaginable," she said in such a way that suggested she had experienced such pain. She and Sam stared each other down. Hathor broke contact, moving instead in front of Jack.

"Perhaps the leader. He who spurned being my First Prime would rather be my consort instead."

"Perhaps he would suit you better," Jack said indicating Daniel. "Or Carter. Maybe your friend here would help her get at those danged Tok’ra memories Jolinar left in her head. Lord knows she hasn’t done a very good job of it so far."

"Colonel," Sam protested, horrified at his suggestion.

Hathor turned her gaze to Sam, desire glimmering in her eyes. "You carried Jolinar? We are pleased to learn this. Many system lords would pay a sizable sum for your capture. I think our friend shall enjoy retrieving the secrets of the Tok’ra from you."

Daniel saw his friend pale as she struggled not to show her terror at the prospect of another blending. He knew Sam would rather die than become a host again. Making his decision in an instant he stepped forward, grasping Hathor’s arm.

"No. You asked me first. I am your beloved, for all I know that Goa’uld is my child also. I deserve to be its host. Give it to me," he demanded.

"Daniel no, you can’t," Sam protested.

"Leave him be Carter. He wasn’t man enough to resist her before. He’s been itching to crawl back to Miss Boa Breath. Good riddance," Jack sneered.

Daniel steeled himself against both his friends’ betrayal and the unavoidable invasion that was to come.

‘Do you remember now?’ Gaman asked.

"You’re Hathor’s child?"

‘And yours. It is a very great honor to blend with one’s creator.’

"Where are we?"

‘Earth.’

"But how? Why aren’t I at home or the SGC?"

‘I was afraid of this,’ Gaman said sadly.

"Afraid of what?" Daniel asked alarmed.

‘When they tried to kill you, I was afraid your memories were damaged.’

"Who tried to kill me?" Daniel asked, confused.

‘It is difficult to explain, perhaps I will simply show you,’ Gaman replied as memories erupted into Daniel’s brain.

The fiery explosion that ripped through Hathor’s ship as Sam and Jack blew the generators so they and the others could escape.

A badly wounded Daniel crawling through the wreckage, only Gaman keeping him alive.

The disgust on his friends’ faces when they returned to secure the complex and found him still alive.

The heated debate between O’Neill and Makepeace as they argued about killing him or leaving him for dead.

How Daniel and Gaman only escaped when the two colonels came to blows over who should have the honor of blowing him away.

Sam and Teal’c turning their backs on Daniel as they dragged the unconscious colonels back home, ignoring Daniel’s pleading cries for help.

How an NID sweeper team found them, more dead than alive, and brought them back to Earth for the medical attention that saved their lives. Attention he got over the vehement protests of the SGC who felt he should die.

The threatening letters, and escalating attempts on his life that continued even after he left Colorado and moved to Area 51.

The video footage he received of a triumphant SG-1 gloating over the death of Shau’ri, standing over her bullet ridden body like a hunter would pose with a trophy kill.

Daniel’s desperate return to the planet to discover his wife’s body lying unburied and un-mourned in the sand.

A livid and grief-stricken Daniel confronting SG-1, despite Gaman’s protests.

The horrendous and unavoidable pain as Teal’c held him so Sam could use the Hara kash on him, just as the ashrak had used it on her and Jolinar years before. Jack’s mocking laughter at the sight of him writhing in agony.

Daniel slowly came back to the present, noting almost in afterthought he was now sitting on the floor with no memory of how he had gotten there.

‘The NID found us barely in time. They forced SG-1 away at gunpoint. Harry used acquired alien technology to save us. We have been here for weeks, hiding and healing,’ Gaman said quietly.

"But Jack wouldn’t leave me," Daniel protested.

Gaman laughed sadly. ‘He never forgave you for P3R636. He really never liked you much, he was under orders to befriend you. He trusted you less after that whole sarcophagus affair. He’s only tolerated you since because General Hammond ordered him to.’

"Sam?"

‘Sam hated you for leaving her to die with Jolinar. She soon grew tired of having to help you all the time. Having to protect you. It was your fault she was sold to Turghan. You forced her to follow local customs even when what you should have done was return to Earth. If you had been smarter, she and Jack would not have nearly died in the Antarctic. Your ignorance nearly cost them their lives.’

"Teal’c," Daniel asked tentatively. Did no one ever like him?

‘Teal’c merely pities you. You are an amusement to him. All of you. He enjoys that you are willing to die for him. It will make his betrayal that much easier. He never truly defected from Apophis. He is a spy, sent to destroy you from within. He laughs and gloats at your foolishness every time you sacrifice for him.

No one at the SGC cares for you. You are a resource. A human database they can use and discard when you become too cumbersome. And discard you they did when we were blended. That is why they want you, us dead. Because they know I know the truth. They won’t rest until we are terminated.’

Daniel sat on the floor for hours as Gaman talked, filling in the gaps in his memories.

"Miss Parker, you won’t believe this," Broots said as he walked into her office trailed by Sydney.

"Did they not teach the concept of knocking in Geek University?" Miss Parker snarled at her friends.

"I’m...aah...I’m sorry but you have to see this," he said enthusiastically opening a folder and laying it on her desk. "The couple...the ones we...aah...ran into in Colorado Springs. Well I ran the tags on the jeep. It’s registered to a Colonel Jack O’Neill, USAF. Ninety percent of his service record is so classified it barely exists. Iran, Iraq, Black Ops, Special Forces..."

"And blondie?"

"According to the prints we pulled off your gun, she’s Major Samantha Carter also USAF. She’s a doctor of astrophysics and Gulf War vet. Both of them are assigned to something called Project Bluebook."

"Which is?"

"Analysis of deep space radar telemetry."

"Sounds thrilling," Miss Parker drawled. "I can see blondie playing with satellite dishes but not this O’Neill. He’d be lucky to figure out how to program his VCR."

"But why was Jarod there?" Sydney asked. "We’ve found no connection between the two, just Dr. Jackson’s address in his lair."

"I think it has something to do with the person they were looking for. The apartment was leased to a Dr. Daniel Jackson," Broots said.

Parker snapped her fingers impatiently. "Not getting any younger here Broots. Just who is he?"

"The Egyptologist, Dr. Jackson?" Sydney asked.

"Yeah," Broots confirmed.

"Have you heard of him Sydney?" Parker asked.

"He’s the grandson of an old friend of mine, Nick Ballard. He’s a smart kid, triple Ph.D., if I remember correctly. Had a promising career until he went public with his theories."

"What theories?"

"He believed all the ancient cultures of Earth evolved because of aliens. That the reason behind the pyramids in South America and Egypt is because...well because aliens taught the natives to build them."

"Oh I don’t see WHY that would get him laughed at," Parker said.

"Aah, actually no, I was referring to the entry on him in The Centre’s database," Broots corrected.

"What entry?"

"About six months ago someone started searching through old records. Decades old records. I think with Jarod still on the loose and the disappearance of his clone, The Centre is trying to track down other escaped pretenders."

"Ones my mother helped escape?" Parker asked incredulously.

"Yes," Broots nodded. "This Daniel Jackson’s files are cross referenced with one for Kevin."

"My god. Broots let me see that," Sydney demanded, fairly snatching the folder off the desk.

"Who is this Kevin?"

"A boy. Brought here a few years after Jarod. His parents were killed in a fire. His preliminary tests indicated an intelligence level on par with Jarod’s," Sydney said.

"What happened to him?" Broots asked.

"He disappeared one night."

"My mother."

Sydney nodded. "Raines always suspected her. He was starting to work with Kevin, putting him through the same regime as Timmy..."

"You mean the one that turned Timmy into Angelo?" Broots asked in horror.

"Yes," Sydney confirmed sadly, remembering how Mr. Raines turned a bright little boy into a shell of himself. A brilliant empath who was doomed to spend the rest of his life a resident of the very place that destroyed him.

"So chances are this Daniel Jackson is here?" Parker asked.

"I’m afraid so," Broots confirmed.

SG-1 laid in the manicured grass under a concealing willow tree on the perimeter of The Centre’s grounds. Fortunately for them it was a cloudy night, the night air thick and heavy with the smell of impending rain.

"According to the information I found out through the Blue Cove PD this place has its own security force. In fact the local police are forbidden to set foot on the property without permission," Sam said quietly.

"Reminds me of Cheyenne Mountain," Jack responded, just as quietly.

"Yes sir. But it’s pretty heavy security for a private corporation. This isn’t going to be easy."

"Blowing up Apophis’ ships was no cake walk but we pulled it off."

"We were fortunate O’Neill. An occurrence that is unlikely to happen again," Teal’c stated.

"Sir, I’ve studied the blue prints on file at the county clerks office. Assuming they’re correct, I don’t see a way in other than the front door."

"Yeah right. We’ll just walk up, knock and politely ask for Daniel back," Jack said sarcastically.

"That tactic will definitely get you killed," a fourth voice broke in. Jack, Sam and Teal’c rolled to their backs, aiming at the source of the voice in one smooth practiced movement.

"Mason, you bastard. I was hoping to run into you," Jack said coldly as Teal’c moved to Jarod’s side to grasp him firmly. This man was their only hope to retrieve DanielJackson and Teal’c would not permit him to elude them again.

Jack rolled to his feet and stepped up to Jarod. He shoved the muzzle of his pistol under the man’s chin. "Where is he?" Jack demanded in a coldly serious voice.

"In there," Jarod answered calmly, his imminent death seeming to have no effect upon him.

"Why is he in there?" Sam asked quietly, also gaining her feet and standing beside Jack. "And why did you kidnap him?"

"I didn’t," Jarod responded. "Sweepers, people who work for The Centre did. I tried to stop them but I was too late. I came here, hoping I could rescue him. But I can’t do it alone. There’s some military guy running simulations with him. He’s locked in a part I can’t get to, not even knowing what I know about this place. I was hoping you would find your way here. If the four of us work together, there is a seventy percent chance we will succeed."

"Succeed how? There’s no way in," Sam said.

"Yes there is," Jarod insisted. "The same way I broke out."

"Tell us how to retrieve DanielJackson," Teal’c demanded, tightening his grip on Jarod’s arms, just enough to be painful but not enough to permanently damage the man. If he spoke the truth, injuring him would be foolish. There was time enough for that after they rescued DanielJackson.

"I’ll do better than that, I’ll take you to him personally," Jarod offered.

"Yeah, like we’re gonna trust you now?" Jack asked.

"Trust me or not, I’m your only way into The Centre. I also know where he’s being kept. That place has 28 sub levels. You could search for him for years and never find him in there. Without me you’ll end up as test subjects yourself or dead," Jarod stated baldly.

Sam met Jack’s gaze and shrugged. Listening to his instincts and acknowledging that there really was no other way Jack grudgingly gave in.

"OK. You lead us in. But the first time I even think you’re going to turn on us I’ll have Teal’c do to you what he did to Heru’ur. And there will be NO convenient sarcophagus to save your sorry ass."

Harry sat in the tiny room, watching Daniel curled up in misery on the floor. ‘Gaman’ was silent now while Harry shuffled through pilfered mission reports, searching for more information he could twist and warp to suit his own needs. Harry wished he had more of the little devices. If only he had four of them...he could control all of SG-1. What better way to put the SGC in their place than to have it destroyed from within, by its premiere team no less.

As Harry plotted, he had no inkling he himself was being observed. Angelo peered through the vent. He had no real idea what the bird man was doing, but the emotions he projected made Angelo feel the same way he did whenever he was near Mr. Lyle or Mr. Raines. He suppressed a shiver and continued to observe.

As the small group of infiltrators slowly made their way through the large air ducts of the vast complex, Jack’s knee began its usual loud protest. He ignored the nagging pain while at the same time accepting he and Dr. Frasier would be having that ‘You really need surgery’ talk again.

Jarod pointed to an upcoming vent, its presence illuminated by the dim light filtering through the protective grate. He motioned for silence, though it really wasn’t necessary. No one had said a word since they’d entered the building.

Jack heard a voice filtering through the vent. He stopped, ignoring Jarod’s hand motion to keep moving. Jack and Sam, who had been crawling right behind him peeked through the vent.

"I don’t care if the Pope himself is coming to visit Broots. That kid is in this facility somewhere. Find him. And if I hear anymore whining about security I’ll tell Raines you fired the shot that turned Mr. Happy into the Human Torch!" She slammed the phone down and yanked her desk drawer open. She pulled out a bottle of Pepto and drank a healthy slug directly from the bottle, then took a box of ammunition and clip out and angrily began to load it. Once her task was finished, she pulled the weapon from its holster and slid the clip into place. She took mock aim at the far wall and faked pulling the trigger.

"Better hope we don’t run into each other again Major Blondie. I’ll take it out of your hide. That was my favorite clip." She rammed the loaded gun back into its holster and stalked from the room.

Jack looked at Sam. "You’ve made a friend," he breathed. As she shrugged, Jarod impatiently tapped his shoulder, motioning for them to hurry.

As Teal’c, who was bringing up the rear, passed the grate, he paused, looking at the empty room, wondering what had caused the rancor between the two women.

"Daniel’s in there," Jarod said softly, indicating a solitary door guarded by two rather large goons at the end of a long white hallway.

"So what are we waiting for?" Jack asked.

"These ducts don’t connect to that room. It’s totally isolated from the rest of the complex."

"OK. So how do we get in there?" Jack asked.

Jarod shrugged. "If I could get into the room Daniel would already be free."

Jack sighed. "OK distraction time again. Carter, don’t suppose you have any explosives?" he asked rhetorically.

"No sir. In my other jacket," she said stuffing her hands in the pockets to illustrate her point. "Anyway, General Hammond hates it when I blow up stuff on this side of the gate."

Jack shot his 2IC a look, unconsciously imitating the look General Hammond often wore whenever Jack was in full sarcastic mode. "OK. Floor’s open kids," Jack invited.

Sam felt something in her left jacket pocket and slowly pulled it out. She brought it in front of her face and stared at it in the dim light. Now she remembered. She had slipped it in her pocket. "Sir, I think I have an idea," she said as she held up the small, purplish-pink circular device, a bit bigger than a half dollar. The tiny flashing lights on the object seemed absurdly bright in the darkness of the air shaft.

"Major Carter, is that..."

"It sure is Teal’c," she confirmed.

"I thought the NID got all that stuff?" Jack asked.

"The last time I used it I just dropped it into my pocket. Then things got so crazy with the fire fight and the explosions...I guess I just forgot about it. Maybourne must have too," she said referring to the holographic technology the aliens from P3X118 used to infiltrate the SGC. "Who wants to play Daniel?"

"That will be me," Jack said, reaching out for the device.

Sam handed it over. "You sure sir?"

Jack nodded. "I’ll lead them on a merry chase. Carter, you and Teal’c get Daniel. Jarod, you make sure they get out of here."

"But what about you sir?"

"I’ll catch up. Jarod, is there a place I can get out of these ducts without being seen or setting off the alarms?"

"Yes, in a room a ways behind us."

"Show me," Jack ordered.

Teal’c and Sam crouched on either side of the large vent, waiting for their cue. They heard faint shuffling footsteps and watched as ‘Daniel’ slowly walked into view. He halted for a second, waiting for the goons to notice his presence. Sam saw Goon 1 slap Goon 2 on the arm. They met each other’s eyes then looked at the locked door behind them. Sam saw ‘Daniel’ give them a little taunting wave, then turn to dash back down the hallway. The two big men lumbered after their ‘escaped’ charge. The whole scene would have been down right comical had the situation not been so serious.

Sam silently counted to ten then nodded at Teal’c. The big Jaffa stuck his fingers in the openings of the grate and gave a powerful push. The grate snapped free of its moorings and Teal’c leaned out as he sat it aside. He unfolded his large frame with a barely perceptible sigh of relief. The time spent in the cramped air ducts had been most uncomfortable.

He turned and saw his companion exit the duct, arching her back. His sharp ears picked up the tiny clicks as her vertebrae popped and realigned. He bent over and propped the vent back into place.

"Let’s get Daniel before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum get back," she said as they hurried down the hallway.

Reaching the end, Sam tried the doorknob even though she knew it was probably useless.

"Too bad we didn’t get their keys," she said.

"We have no need," Teal’c stated, motioning for his companion to step back. He raised his foot and literally kicked the door in.

"Nice," Sam said as she carefully slipped into the darkened room, Teal’c not far behind. He pushed the door closed behind them. No need to leave their flank exposed.

Daniel was dreaming. Happy peaceful dreams of himself and his parents in Egypt. He sighed in his sleep, remembering how he used to play with the other children on the dig. Those Egyptian boys were the only real playmates he’d ever had. They never bullied or teased. Not cruelly anyway. They merely laughed and ran, frustrating his parents every time the boys would drag their American friend home to an assortment of indulgent mothers. More often than not, Daniel would be returned to his parents none the worse for wear than a bit of a stomach ache from eating too many sugared dates.

His pleasant dreams were shattered by the crash of his door flying open. Primitive survival instincts dragged him from his slumber and caused him to roll out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thud. His heart pounding, he peeked over the edge, his eyes wide with terror as he saw two shapes momentarily silhouetted in the light pouring in from the hallway. The larger figure pushed the door shut and the room was plunged into darkness again.

Daniel heard a woman’s voice whisper urgently, "Daniel, are you in here? Are you OK? Daniel?"

‘Gaman, help me.’ There was a panic filled moment of silence. ‘Gaman?’

‘Daniel, what is it?’

‘Who are these people? What do they want?’

‘Umm...ooh...omigod.’

‘What?’

‘Daniel, they are your enemy. They’ve found you.’

‘Who are they Gaman?’

‘It’s Carter and the alien Teal’c. You must escape.’

‘How? There’s only one way out?’

‘Fight them. You possess the strength of a Goa’uld. These pathetic do-gooders are no match for you,’ Gaman insisted.

Maybourne was woken by Daniel’s frantic cry for help so abruptly, he sat up, forgetting his feet were propped on the counter and nearly fell to the floor. He hurriedly punched up the camera and bit back a frustrated cry. ‘Of course they just HAD to come. Couldn’t the thrice damned SG-1 stay where they were supposed to?’ Hammond was going to hang for this. His orders were to keep the remaining members of SG-1 in Colorado. The last thing Harry needed was to have to deal with the annoying Jack O’Neill and the rest of the Musketeers.

He picked up the phone to call the Centre security forces, then returned it to its cradle as a thought occurred to him and he slowly dropped the receiver back to its cradle. ‘Oh yes. How better to deal with the annoying SG-1 than to have one of their own destroy them?’

"Do you see a light Teal’c?"

"Yes," she heard him respond as she heard a tiny click and the room was flooded with harsh fluorescent light. Sam squinted against the sudden brightness. "There," Teal’c said, pointing at the figure of a cowering Daniel.

"Oh god," Sam whispered as she motioned for Teal’c to hang back. She slowly made her way across the room, trying not to look threatening.

Jack dashed down the unfamiliar hallways like the hounds of hell were on his heels. In reality it was two lumbering goons...close enough.

He skidded around a corner, his knee screaming its dislike of this whole plan every time his foot slapped the tile floor.

"Dammit," he muttered as he screeched to a halt. Dead end. Jack spun, hoping he could slip past them.

He stopped in his tracks again as the bulk of the two goons filled the narrow corridor, their arms crossed over their massive chests in a mocking show of strength.

"Dr. Jackson, you know you’re not well enough to be out. Let us take you back," Goon 1 drawled placatingly.

"Thanks, but I’m feeling much better now," Jack quipped.

"Dr. Jackson, you don’t want us to insist do you?" Goon 2 asked, his tone suggesting he’d enjoy making his point physically.

"Actually I was looking for the gift shop. I need to get my parking stub validated."

The Goon brothers weren’t impressed. They advanced on Jack, uncrossing their arms and clenching their fists in anticipation of subduing their charge.

Jack held himself at the ready, wishing he had a weapon other than his pistol. He didn’t want to start a fire fight in this dead end hallway or it would most likely live up to the description. In fact it reminded him of a shooting gallery, he being the duck with a big bulls-eye on his chest.

"Guys, are you sure we can’t just talk about this? I mean, violence isn’t always the answer. At least that’s what a friend of mine once told me," Jack said as the two men kept advancing as he backed up. He knew he could handle one of them...two would be a challenge. His one advantage was his appearing as Daniel. People always underestimated the lanky frame of the young man. They didn’t realize a lack of bulk didn’t equal a lack of heart. That kid had enough inner strength to move mountains.

"Ya know Spanky, I think you could benefit from some anger management classes," Jack quipped, directing his comment towards the goon on the right. Maybe he could goad them into attacking separately.

Predictably, the goon bristled. "He’s mine," he snarled.

"You kill him, YOU face Lyle," the other warned. "I don’t want to end up the colonel’s next subject."

‘Huh?,’ Jack thought. ‘What colonel...’ he started to question. His musings remained unfinished as Spanky made his move, swinging his meaty fist at Jack’s head. Jack ducked and used all his upward momentum to bury his fist in Spanky’s middle.

The man grunted and gave a grimacing Jack a disgusted look and rammed his fist into Jack’s stomach. Air left his lungs in a rush as the goon slammed him against the wall, levering his forearm against Jack’s throat, cutting off his air as he was forced to his tip toes.

Jack wrapped his arms around Spanky’s, pulling himself up on his attacker’s arm and brought up his left foot to slam it in Spanky’s groin.

He released Jack, clutching at his injury as he crumpled to the floor.

Jack crouched beside his victim, struggling to pull air through his abused windpipe.

Goon 2, seeing his partner moaning on the floor, obviously deciding not angering this Lyle wasn’t worth a fight, drew his gun. Jack tensed, his mind trying to find a way out of this mess.

"He’ll still run the sims whether you’re bleeding or not," the goon said matter-of-factly. "There’s no need to make this difficult Dr. Jackson," he stated as he cocked the pistol.

Then a dazed look crossed his face, accented by a dull thud as he collapsed to the floor.

Jack watched him fall then looked up to see Jarod sitting a fire extinguisher he’d used to knock the guy out on the floor.

"I thought it was considered rude to point," he said as he stepped over the fallen man to offer his hand to Jack, who was pulling the alien device off his chest and sticking it in his coat pocket.

"Dammit Jarod, you’re supposed to be backing up Carter and Teal’c," he complained.

"And let you get lost? No way. Come on," Jarod said.

Jack needed no further urging as he followed the man, vaguely wondering exactly what it was that made him trust Jarod.

They made their way quickly back through the maze of corridors until they reached the familiar hallway leading to Daniel’s room.

As Jack hurried down the hall to Daniel, Jarod heard a tiny noise. He turned and saw Angelo’s face peering through the grate.

"Angelo," he whispered softly as he kneeled before the vent.

"Jarod, the bird man is hurting him," he said as Jarod pulled the grate from the wall, allowing Angelo to crawl into the hallway.

"Daniel?" Jarod asked.

Angelo shook his head. "No Kevin...making him do things."

"Can you show me where the bird man is?" Angelo nodded. Jarod looked over his shoulder and saw Jack just entering the room. His instincts told him this ‘bird man’ was the key. Deciding Jack could take care of himself, he turned to his old friend. "Take me there," he ordered gently.

Daniel struggled not to run as the woman came closer.

"Daniel, it’s Sam and Teal’c...we’re here to get you out of this place. No one’s going to hurt you again. Daniel...it’s OK..." she cajoled in a soft voice as she eased her way closer. Daniel found himself unable to move as the woman crouched beside him and held out her hand. "Daniel...just take my hand...let’s get you home..."

‘NO...She’s the enemy Daniel. She just wants to kill you. Don’t you see?’ Gaman asked Daniel urgently. ‘Look at her. She’s going to try to kill you again. She has the ring... Stop her Daniel! I can’t heal you again. STOP HER!’ the voice in his head demanded.

Daniel blinked his eyes, now seeing a tri-stone ring adorning Sam’s outstretched hand. Three beams of color sprang from the stones and coalesced into one terrifying beam. He flashed back to a memory of himself writhing on the floor, too lost in the pain to even breath as Sam stood over him, a malicious, sadistic grin splitting her face as she mentally cranked up the pain.

"NO! Not again!" he cried as he lashed out with a primal cry, striking Sam and knocking her to the floor. He scrambled to his feet and lunged for the door.

‘GET AWAY, DANIEL...HIDE,’ Gaman screamed. His flight was stopped by the solid mass of a Jaffa.

"DanielJackson, you are not yourself. Let us help you," Teal’c said calmly, shocked at the sight of Daniel striking out at Sam.

"No....You traitor. You’re just waiting to betray Earth. You still serve Apophis. You’re going to kill us all!" Daniel cried as he tried to get away from Teal’c. Gaman flashed an image into Daniel’s brain. Daniel recoiled, horrified. ‘No! I can’t’

‘Yes, you must,’ Gaman insisted.

‘But Gaman...’

‘Do it! He would not hesitate.’

‘Gaman,’ Daniel pleaded.

‘DO IT!’ Gaman ‘screamed.’ Daniel struck out, tearing Teal’c’s shirt with his left hand and thrusting his right hand into Teal’c’s pouch, wresting the symbiote from its nest with a violent jerk.

Teal’c’s roar of pain was echoed by the immature Goa’uld’s high pitched squeaks. Daniel flung the worm across the room where it bounced once or twice and landed, writhing weakly in front of the window.

In shock over the sudden loss of Junior, Teal’c fell to his knees, his hands clutching frantically at his empty womb, as if to physically affirm the loss of his symbiote.

"Daniel, what have you done?" Sam cried out, disbelieving what she had just witnessed. She forced herself to her feet and scrambled to Teal’c’s side. "My God, you’ll kill him," she said as she kneeled beside her friend.

"He is a spy in service to Apophis. He deserves to die," Daniel said coldly.

‘The symbiote...kill it,’ Gaman urged.

‘What?’

‘The worm...it is your enemy...it is helpless now. It can’t bully you any longer. Now crush it...while it is weak.’ Listening to Gaman, Daniel turned his back on Sam and Teal’c and slowly walked towards the pale infant Goa’uld, wiggling weakly on the floor, residual pouch fluid staining the carpet with pale reddish streaks, almost like blood. ‘Crush it. Don’t you want to? Aren’t you sick of being bullied? Aren’t you tired of being a victim? You have the power...use it...stop being a victim...crush it...CRUSH IT!’

Daniel stared down at the Goa’uld. This was the source of so much suffering, so much heartache. Skaara, Shau’ri, Kowalski. So many people hurt because of this. Whole races enslaved to service these...worms. Outside a host they were so...powerless, so weak so fragile. One simple movement, a slight redistribution of his weight and countless lives could be saved. One little step...one small step for man. Daniel almost giggled at the idea. This wasn’t the first time. He’d done it before afterall. On Chulak he’d shot them as they swam in their tank. He’d stood there for a moment, watching them flop helplessly on the ground, sentient beings gasping for breath, drowning in the cold air. And he’d felt no remorse, only relief. Relief that with their death a few hosts had been saved. So easy...Gaman was right. The only way for a victim to survive was to cut the bully down when he was weak, when he was less likely to fight back. Compassion was a waste. Daniel slowly lifted his bare foot as Junior, perhaps sensing its imminent demise, let out a mewling sound, almost like a frightened baby.

His breath left him in a rush as a weight tackled him from behind, he and his attacker falling into the window, the falling curtains shielding their bodies from the razor sharp shards of glass as their combined weight shattered the window. The iron bars that cut off an avenue of escape was all that kept both of them from plunging to their deaths. They fell to the floor, the curtains hampering their movements, binding them together.

"Daniel...snap out of it!" Sam cried as she tried to get him away from a helpless Junior.

‘Kill her Daniel. She protects the Goa’uld. She has tried to kill you,’ Gaman said.

Daniel hesitated, memories struggling to come to the surface of his mind. ‘She...’

‘She wishes to enslave you. She is Hathor’s new host. She will make you her beloved again. Do you want that?’ Gaman asked. Memories crashed into Daniel’s muddled brain. Memories of fear, degradation, humiliation. His body responding even as his brain cried out in denial. His lack of control leaving him feeling like an observer trapped in his own body. His embarrassment every time he heard a conversation cease as he drew close.

He always hated it when people talked about him. It hurt more than any physical blow he had ever suffered. No...not again. He would not be Hathor’s victim again. This was his chance to fulfill the fantasy he’d harbored for years.

"I’m not your beloved," he cried as he wrapped both hands around Sam’s throat and squeezed. Never again...she’d never hurt him again. Every choked gasp was music to his ears.

Teal’c lifted his heavy head and saw Daniel killing his friend. He tried to move, to come to her aid but his traumatized body refused to respond. All he could do was watch as her desperate struggles, hampered by the heavy curtains, slowly lessened and finally ceased.

‘I did it Gaman. I killed her. She won’t ever hurt me again,’ Daniel said triumphantly.

‘You must leave Daniel,’ Gaman urged.

‘What, why?’

‘The other, O’Neill, will come. You must get away from here.’ Daniel untangled himself from the curtains and gained his feet. He gave Sam’s motionless form an almost regretful glance as he bent over and drew the curtain over her face, denying it was guilt that was motivating him.

He turned and walked towards Teal’c who was struggling to his hands and knees. Daniel paused, then lashed out with his foot, kicking Teal’c’s hands from under him and sending him to the floor with a harsh grunt. "That’s for Shau’ri," he whispered as he turned his back on his friend and walked toward the door.

As his hand reached the knob, it slowly moved of it’s own volition.

‘You waited too long,’ Gaman said angrily.

‘Who?’

‘Probably the third musketeer. The bedside table. Go,’ Gaman ordered.

‘What?’

‘Stop wasting my time with questions. Go now you fool.’ Daniel turned and ran back to the bed. He pulled the drawer open and stared at what was inside. ‘Put it on,’ Gaman demanded.

‘But I can’t operate it.’

‘Yes you can you imbecile. Put it on.’

‘No,’ Daniel cried, then gasped as he felt an incredible pressure in his chest, like a thousand bricks. His lungs begged for oxygen, but they refused to breathe. In seconds it was over. ‘What?’ he asked weakly.

‘Do as I say or I will stop your heart permanently,’ Gaman threatened. Trembling Daniel reached down and picked up the ribbon device. He slid it over his wrist. As he methodically slipped the dangling ends on his fingertips, he heard the door open.

"What the...Daniel what’s going on?" he heard Jack ask. Daniel tried to speak but Gaman refused him control. He saw Jack kneel by a barely conscious Teal’c. "Daniel, what the hell happened to him?" Jack asked as he felt for Teal’c’s pulse.

"Neill," Teal’c whispered painfully. Daniel saw Jack bend over so he could hear the Jaffa’s faint words.

‘Kill him Daniel.’

‘No.’

‘He will kill you. He protects the traitor. Kill him.’

‘I...I don’t kill.’

‘Don’t lie to me, you can’t lie to me. I know. You’ve killed dozens.’

‘In self-defense,’ Daniel protested.

‘This is self-defense. Kill him,’ Gaman insisted. Daniel felt his left hand raise. Horrified he watched it extend out, the golden hue of the hand device glinting in the artificial light. Daniel felt the ruby crystal at the center of the device glow warmly in his hand. He saw Jack’s eyes widen as he realized what was to come.

"Daniel just...just put your hand down. We’re here to help you. I don’t know what’s been done to you but we can fix it...Danny you don’t want to do this. Daniel please," Jack begged.

‘Kill him.’

"I...you left me for dead. You hate me, have always hated me."

"No Daniel I didn’t. You’re my friend," Jack insisted.

"You don’t want me...no one wants me," Daniel said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Daniel, it’s not true," Jack said as he carefully stepped closer.

"No! I’m tired of hurting." Daniel raised his hand back up, the stone glowing brightly. A confused look crossed his features as he fell to his knees, stunned, as water cascaded over his shoulders from the full pitcher Sam smashed over his head. She staggered a bit, then sat on the side of the bed as her knees gave away.

Jack hurried across the room, dropping cautiously to Daniel’s side as he felt for a pulse. He closed his eyes in relief and began to strip the weapon from Daniel’s left hand. "Carter, you OK?" he asked, seeing the dark bruises starting to form around her throat.

"Yeah," she answered hoarsely.

"What happened to Teal’c?" Jack asked as he pulled a curtain closer so he could rip it into strips to bind Daniel.

"Oh God... Junior," she said as she forced herself to her feet and started digging in the fallen drapes.

"What?" Jack asked, confused.

"Daniel yanked Junior out of Teal’c. That’s why he’s so weak."

"He did WHAT? Where is it?"

"It was right here," Sam responded, desperation beginning to creep into her voice.

"Whoa!" Jack cried, falling backwards to land hard on his rump. "Aah...found it," he said cringing back a bit from the pale symbiote.

Sam cautiously poked it gently with her index finger, relieved when it moved slightly.

"Thank God, it’s still alive."

Jack looked at the Goa’uld in front of him, then at its waiting pouch across the room.

"So...aah...how?"

Sam caught his meaning. "Don’t suppose you can drag Teal’c over here?" she asked. Jack merely raised his eyebrows. Sam took a deep breath and sighed. "You are going to owe me for this...big," she said as she grimaced and gingerly picked up Junior. She held the weakly wiggling creature at arms length as she cautiously gained her feet and crossed to Teal’c. "Sir, can you roll him over?"

Jack got up and followed her. He rolled Teal’c to his back and pulled up the shirt. Sam laid Junior on top of the pouch opening, fighting the urge to just toss it at the pouch like she would an occasional wad of paper at a handy trash can. She pulled her hands back and convulsively wiped her hands on her jeans in an attempt to remove all traces of the creature. "God, I really, really, really hate those things," she said as she leaned back.

They looked on in trepidation as Junior just laid there.

"Aah, you think," Jack started, then stopped as they watched in disgusted fascination as the creature wriggled itself back into its womb.

"I hope we’re not too late," Sam said.

"What about Daniel?" Jack asked.

"He’s acting like he’s under some kind of mind control or something. He thinks we’re out to kill him."

"He do that?" Jack asked, pointing at the darkening bruises.

Sam nodded. "I think he thought I was Hathor," she explained.

"He told me once he wanted to wring her neck. Never thought he’d to it though." Jack got to his feet and pulled Sam up. Together they walked back to Daniel. Sam examined her friend, relieved to notice the pitcher hadn’t done much damage. There were only one or two small cuts. Her eyes caught something just at the hairline. She peered closer.

"Colonel, look," she said, pointing out the tiny stitches.

"Somebody else whack him over the head?"

"No. There’s no bruising. Anyway the cut is far too neat, almost surgical in its precision."

"About the size of this?" a voice asked from the doorway. Jack spun around, pulling his weapon and aiming it at Jarod.

"Dammit Jarod. Stop doing that or you’re gonna get shot."

Jarod shrugged. "Look at what I found?" he said, reaching to his right and tossing an unconscious Harry Maybourne into the room.

"Maybourne," Jack said in disgust. "I shoulda known that son of a bitch was involved."

"You know him?" Jarod asked.

"Oh yeah. We’re old friends. What’s his part in all this? Or need I ask."

Jarod held up the controller. "He’s been using this to control Daniel. Filled his head full of lies. That’s why he attacked you."

"How?" Sam asked.

Jarod stepped forward. "That thing in his head. It controls his memories, actions, physical responses. I think it’s much like being possessed by a Goa’uld."

"How do we turn it off?" Jack asked.

"Let me take the device out," Jarod said.

Jack shook his head vehemently, "No. No way you’re going to go digging around in my friend’s brain." Jarod cautiously palpated the wound.

"It’s right under the skin. It’ll be like extracting a splinter."

Sam reached down and felt the small bump under the incision. "He’s right Colonel. These stitches are fresh enough we should just be able to snip them and pop it right out."

Jack debated a second then decided he had to have that thing out of Danny’s head...now. He nodded, hoping he wasn’t making a fatal mistake.

"Perhaps you should let me?" another voice said. Jack and Jarod spun, Jack’s face full of uncertainty and Jarod’s happiness.

"Sydney," he said warmly.

"Keep you hands where I can see them," Jack said.

"I’m just here to help. Let me remove the device so you can go. Angelo will not be able to keep security fooled much longer."

"Colonel O’Neill, you can trust him," Jarod said.

Jack met Carter’s gaze and at her nod, he stepped back, ushering Sydney in. He watched as the older man efficiently snipped the stitches, used his fingers to pop the device out much like he would pop a blister, and re-close the small wound. He handed the tiny device to Jarod and stood up. The whole procedure took about five minutes.

"You must go now," Sydney said.

"How?" Sam asked. "We can’t backtrack, not with two men down."

"I require no assistance," Teal’c said. "I am recovered enough to vacate this place," obliquely referring to Junior’s healing powers.

"I know a way," Sydney said.

Jack nodded as he bent over to pull an unconscious Daniel to his feet, hoisting him over his shoulders. "Teal’c, Carter, Jarod, let’s go."

"I will not be joining you," Jarod said.

"But..." Sam started to protest.

"I don’t belong there," he said gently. SG-1 looked at each other and silently agreed with Jarod’s statement. He may have proved himself to them, but there was no way Hammond would allow a person whose entire life was a fiction to remain at the SGC. "What do you want to do with him?" Jarod asked, indicating the unconscious Harry.

"I suppose we should take him back to face a court-martial," Sam said grudgingly.

"Hell Carter, if there was justice in the world he’d already be at Leavenworth."

"I have an idea," Jarod said.

"What?"

"It’s complicated. Do you mind if I deal with him?" Something in Jarod’s tone told Jack Maybourne wasn’t going to like what Jarod had in mind one bit. Jack hesitated a moment, then remembering the hell Daniel had just been through he shrugged. At least what passed for a shrug when you had almost 200 pounds of unconscious archaeologist on your back. An archaeologist who was getting heavier by the second.

"Knock yourself out Jarod. He’s all yours." To his surprise, neither Sam or Teal’c offered a protest. Jack turned toward a waiting Sydney. "After you doc," he said as they followed the older man.

Sydney led SG-1 through a series of dim corridors, unknowingly retracing Catherine Parker’s journey of decades before.

He pulled an old key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy steel door. As he struggled he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a large dark man.

"Allow me," he said simply as he motioned for Sydney to step back.

Teal’c opened the door with ease and the dark corridor was flooded with a burst of rain laced air.

"I can help you no further," Sydney said, stepping back from the doorway. Sensing his aid came with a heavy risk, Jack didn’t protest. He motioned for Teal’c and Carter to go outside.

"What about Jarod?" he asked.

Sydney shrugged and responded with a sad, resigned smile. "Jarod will most likely be gone before I can get back. And don’t worry Colonel, I’ll erase everything that links him to this place," he said, indicating an unconscious Daniel. "They won’t come looking for him again," he promised.

Still not quite sure what was going on, Jack replied simply. "Thanks," he said as he shifted Daniel’s weight and stepped into the rain.

Jack struggled across the drenched lawn hoping he was headed the right way. Hours before they had hidden the rental car behind a small copse of trees.

A bolt of lightning illuminated the scene...there, the willow tree. Jack altered his course slightly to reach the tree and its relative safety faster.

"Colonel," he heard loudly whispered as he got closer to the tree.

"Carter?"

"Yeah," she responded and she and Teal’c stepped from under cover.

"Didn’t you ever learn that tree and lightning lesson, Major?" he asked as Teal’c stepped closer.

"I can carry him," he stated. Jack allowed the Jaffa to relieve him of his burden. Danny certainly hadn’t been missing any meals lately.

"One in 20,000 chance of getting struck by lightning or an almost certain chance of getting shot...I’ll take the lightning sir," Carter answered him.

"Well, let’s get the hell out of here. I’m gettin' too damned old to play in the rain," Jack complained as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the muscle cramps.

Sam grinned. "This way sir," she said as she led them back to the car. As it came into sight Sam walked toward a large rock where they’d hidden the key. Jack and Teal’c waited impatiently.

"Carter, ain’t gettin any drier here," Jack called softly.

"Why don’t we go inside then?" a feminine voice said angrily. "Don’t," she ordered as Jack moved to draw his gun. He strained his eyes and saw a slim form stalking out of the shadows, her pistol extended.

"Well, well, well, deja vu," Jack drawled. "Course it was a bit drier last time."

"Stuff it. All I want is him," Miss Parker said, indicating Daniel. "Give him to me and you can go."

"You really think I’m just gonna turn him over to you after all we went through to get Danny boy back?" Jack asked rhetorically.

"I think if you want to keep breathing you will do as I say," she said. "And where the hell is blondie? She owes me for a clip." Jack fought to keep his face impassive as he made out the form of Sam slipping behind the woman, the rain masking the sound of her approach. Sam raised her pistol and slammed the butt on Miss Parker’s head. The slim brunette crumpled to the muddy ground.

"Here," she said as she tossed the keys to Jack, turning her attention back to the unconscious woman. "Don’t call me blondie," Sam said and she bent over to retrieve the woman’s gun. Jack made short work of unlocking the car and helping Teal’c into the backseat with Daniel.

"Carter, let’s go."

Sam finished popping Miss Parker’s clip from her gun and tossed the pistol into a large puddle where it landed with a large splash. She rammed the clip into her pocket and got into the car.

Jack and Sam stood at the base of the ramp, watching Teal’c leave to visit his family. It almost looked like the big guy was moving out. He was carrying a small bag with changes of clothes and about two dozen baseballs in one hand and a baseball bat with a glove hanging off the end propped over his shoulder. Jack insisted Teal’c take so many extra balls after he took him topside for a few practice swings. Jack swore a few of the balls Teal’c hit were still in orbit.

They watched him dematerialize and the wormhole close with a small pop.

"You did teach him how to use that stuff, didn’t you sir?" Sam asked, referring to the baseball equipment he carried.

"Course I did Carter. Took him to a Rockies game a few weeks ago."

"Please don’t tell me you tried to explain the designated hitter rule to him?" Sam replied, laughing.

Jack looked offended. "I wouldn’t waste his time with that."

"Uh, huh," she replied skeptically. "You don’t understand it either do you?"

Jack merely shot his major a look that would have had a raw recruit literally shaking in his boots. She was totally unaffected.

"Like you do," Jack retorted.

Sam shrugged. "I understand the theory behind it," she responded, as they left the gateroom, passing a disembarking SG-9. "You seen Daniel today?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "I’m going there now. Frasier’s going to release him. By the way, nice shirt," he said referring to the black turtleneck Sam was wearing instead of her customary T-shirt.

She shrugged again. "It’ll take a few weeks for the bruises to fade. I don’t think Daniel needs any more reminders."

"Has he talked about it at all?"

Sam shook her head. "He just apologized a few dozen times. I don’t know how much he recalls. Maybe he’ll talk to you," she suggested.

"Guess it’s worth a try. I still have a ton of questions about the whole mess."

"I have a funny feeling you’ll never get those answers," she replied as they reached the elevators. Jack swiped his card and they waited for the car. They rode to level 21 in silence. Once the doors opened they headed separate ways, Sam to her lab and Jack to the infirmary.

"Hey Carter," he said.

She turned. "Yeah?"

"If I talk Daniel into dinner, wanna come?"

"Sure, just let me know."

Jack nodded and continued to the infirmary. He choked back a grin at the loud protests emanating from the room. Daniel had to be feeling better, he never complained so loudly when he felt bad.

"Janet, I told you I’m fine," Jack heard as he walked into the room. Daniel was standing up, obviously trying to leave. Dr. Frasier was standing in front of him, arms akimbo, just as determined that he stay.

"You are running a low grade fever Daniel. I want to keep you here and run a few more tests so I can find the source of it," she demanded.

"I’ve probably got the beginnings of a cold," he said. "From what I’ve heard Jack took me playing in the rain a couple days ago. And if one more person comes at me with a needle I’m going to shove it..."

"So Danny, doc gonna let you loose or not?" Jack asked, interrupting his friend’s tirade before is escalated any further.

Janet turned to face the colonel. "I would rather keep him here sir. He is running a low grade fever and I have no idea why."

"Jack, I just want to get out of here," Daniel said calmly, but with desperation creeping into his voice.

"Is it anything serious doc?"

Janet shrugged, sensing where this conversation was going. "I won’t know until I run some tests. It may be nothing but the beginnings of a cold."

"See?" Daniel said, a look of ‘I told you so’ on his face.

Jack made his decision in a flash. "How about a compromise doc? I’ll take him home with me and he can spend the night at my place. If he gets worse we’ll come back."

Janet shook her head, knowing when she was beaten. Of course if anyone suggested this was the solution she’d been hoping for she’d deny it. "Fine. But if you feel worse, even the tiniest bit you get your butt back here," she threatened.

"Absolutely," Daniel promised happily, willing to give up almost anything short of his coffee machine to get out of the infirmary.

Jack closed the door behind Sam and watched as she made her way to her car to go home. They had indeed gotten together for pizza and beer, though Jack had forgotten Teal’c wasn’t with them, so he now had a whole large pizza crammed in his fridge. Seeing her safely on her way, Jack returned to the living room and Daniel. The young man was sitting on his couch, nursing his second beer.

Jack got himself another beer from the kitchen and plopped himself on the second sofa.

Daniel continued to stare at the muted TV, seemingly fascinated by the reruns of a twenty year old sitcom. Jack waited a few minutes, hoping Daniel would break the silence. When a second episode of the show started, Jack decided he’d waited long enough.

"So Danny, wanna talk about it?"

Daniel turned toward his friend, a slightly bewildered look on his face. "Huh?"

"What happened in that place?"

Daniel frowned slightly and opened his mouth as if he was trying to find just the right words. Jack waited patiently. He’d learned the hard way if he pushed the young man too hard he’d clam up tighter than a child proof aspirin bottle. "I’m...I’m not totally sure. I can’t tell what was a dream and what was real. I remember a voice in my head...I thought I had a Goa’uld," he said with a shiver.

"That part WASN’T real," Jack hurried to reassure. "It was Maybourne. The son of a bitch was using some alien tech to mess with your head. I’m guessing most of what he told you was a lie."

Daniel nodded slowly. "I’ve figured part of it out. I think all the memories he planted in my head were false, or at least twisted versions of the truth."

"I think that’s safe to say."

Daniel fell silent and swallowed, as if the next words were hard to get out. "What I did to Sam and Teal’c...that was real wasn’t it?" he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Jack affirmed.

"That’s why Sam suddenly likes turtlenecks isn’t it?" he asked ruefully.

Jack nodded. "Think she got you back though. She’s the reason you got a bump on your head."

Daniel nodded, dismissing the injury as though it were payment for him hurting his friend. "Is a...is Teal’c OK?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh yeah. He and Junior are fine. I think you impressed the hell out of him. Takes some real guts to do...what you did."

"He probably hates me," Daniel said dejectedly.

"Nah," Jack said. "You know he carried you all the way here. If he was mad at you he’d have left you."

Daniel nodded again. "Jack...did...aah...did I really use that ribbon device on you?" Daniel asked, really hoping THAT memory wasn’t a real one.

Jack grimaced a bit. "Yeah. You tried to," he admitted grudgingly.

Daniel shook his head. "But how? I’ve never had a Goa’uld. I shouldn’t be able to."

"Carter thinks it may be some of that mind over matter stuff. You know, you believed you could...so it worked," Jack said with a shrug, almost like he didn’t buy the explanation either.

"But Sam..."

Jack cut him off. "Daniel, Carter STILL doesn’t like to admit she can use that stuff, hell she avoids it whenever possible. Though that might be a good thing. Maybe her difficulties with it is that she doesn’t quite believe she can use it, so she has to convince herself she can every time she tries. I think she’s even more skeptical about that metaphysical mumbo jumbo than I am," Jack said.

They both sat there jointly staring at the TV.

"Daniel, is there anything I need to know about that place?"

"What?"

"I got the definite idea there was more to that whole Centre than meets the eye. Do you remember anything?"

Daniel slowly shook his head. "I’m not sure. I have some really vague memories. It’s nothing specific, like deja vu almost. When I was there I felt this overwhelming sense of fear. And parts of it seemed familiar, but I can’t pull anything out of my memories."

"Could always try that hypnosis thing," Jack suggested.

Daniel shook his head, more emphatically this time. "Somehow Jack I’m getting the feeling the less I remember about that whole place the better."

"OK," Jack said, accepting his friend’s decision. He knew all too well what it was like to want to just forget.

"What about Jarod?" Daniel asked, changing the subject and silently signaling to Jack it was closed for the time being.

Jack shook his head. "We still don’t know how he got the clearances to get into the SGC. Hammond can’t figure it out either. I think he’s going to look at new recruits a little closer though."

"But what happened to him?"

Jack shrugged. "He just disappeared."

"What about SG-2?"

"Hammond found a new guy, Coburn or something like that. Ready to call it a night?" Jack asked, noting his friend’s drooping eye lids.

"Guess I’d better," Daniel agreed.

"Spare room’s all yours," Jack said as he got up, sitting his empty bottle on the table.

Daniel stood up, hiding a tiny grimace at the small jolt of pain in his right side. ‘Probably pulled a muscle,’ he thought as he followed Jack down the hallway.

"What the hell do you mean the records are gone!" Miss Parker asked, her question punctuated by a series of vicious sneezes. If she ever crossed paths with Major Blondie again she was going to teach her a lesson or two.

"It’s all gone Miss Parker," Broots said. "Even the copies I had on my hard drive. It’s like Kevin, or Daniel never existed."

Colonel Harry Maybourne woke up in his bed, confused for a moment exactly how he’d gotten there. A dream. That’s it, it was all a surreal dream. A by-product of too much work and stress. He swung his feet off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and stared at the reflection in the mirror. It was really too bad it hadn’t been real. The thought of having SG-1 in his grasp had been oh so sweet.

He put on his robe and went outside to retrieve his morning paper. He sat down with his customary cup of coffee and started to read. The mug crashed unnoticed to the floor as his eyes focused on the date. A week. He was missing a week. He blinked. It had to be wrong...had to be a mistake.

‘Oh no Harry, it’s no mistake," a quiet voice drawled in his head. "We are going to have so much fun together," the voice promised.

Harry opened his mouth to scream....but nothing came out.

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