Title: Change

Change

by Greenupstreet

Friday 08:32 SGC Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Colonel Jonathan (Jack) O'Neill was not a happy camper.

"Fer cryin' out loud," he complained. "Can't anybody hold on to Maybourne for more than five minutes? Every time we turn around he's into something we have to clean up. Now we have
informants that tell us: one, he's in the process of stealing secret technology, but two, we don't know what that technology would be!"


"That seems to be the gist of the NID's information, Colonel." General Hammond just stared blandly at Jack. Teal'c, well, looked like Teal'c. Daniel and Carter waited patiently. Jack realized he was acting like a horse's ass, quieted down, but kept his unhappy expression.

Fortunately, for his blood pressure, Daniel continued his argument for him.

"General, I don't understand. If NID has all this information about Maybourne, why don't they simply apprehend Maybourne themselves?" 'And do the job they're supposed to be doing for a change.' he thought to himself.

"That's too risky." The group looked to Major Carter, who continued, "NID just isn't cleared for all the technology that Maybourne could have gotten his hands on. If it's Earth technology, well and good. But if it's Goa'uld . . ."

"Precisely why I pulled strings to get SG-1 assigned," the General broke in. "Too many outsiders have access to our secrets as it is. I want SG-1 to apprehend Maybourne and retrieve that technology, whatever it is."

"Yes, sir." Jack sat up and accepted the inevitable

.

Friday 18:05 Cascade, Washington

Blair stomped up the stairwell to the loft apartment he shared with Jim. The Police Academy sucked. The weather---cold and wet---sucked. The elevator to the loft ---broken...again---sucked. In essence, Blair's entire life sucked.

Intellectually, Blair knew that his funk would disappear after a hot shower and a cup of chamomile tea. However, at that moment, life just sucked.

Blair opened the door and set his backpack down. He was about to call Jim's name when he saw a tall figure sprawled unconscious on the floor.

"Jim!" Blair was so intent on checking his partner's vital signs that he didn't hear the stranger behind him until he was shot. The tranquilizer took effect in a tenth of a second.

Friday 20:33 Cascade, Washington. Outskirts of the city

"Maybourne couldn't pull this in the summer. No, he had to do this friggin' caper in the friggin' rainy season. Friggin" 'cold' rainy season."

"Well, Jack, from what I understand, it's always cold and rainy in Cascade. When it's not cold and snowing, that is."

"Daniel."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, Jack." Daniel wasn't offended. He knew that ever since Antarctica Jack just hated the cold. The complains were just his way of dealing with the memories. Daniel had his own ideas about how to warm Jack up later. He knew that Jack knew it, too.

The plan was simple, the way Jack liked it. Maybourne would pull into a clearing at the edge of the city limits to deliver his "merchandise" to his clients. There would be one major change. SG-1 would be there in their place.

Jack could almost laugh at the irony. Maybourne would be the victim of his own sales pitch. By throwing out phrases like "hard kill" and "undetectable infiltration" he'd scared the buyers into turning him in exchange for a deal. Jack had listened to some of the interrogation tapes.

"...And after saying all that, the dude wouldn't tell us what the hell we were buying. Could be that anthrax stuff, or plutonium or worse!" The informant went on to reminisce about the good old days when he smuggled guns and blow.

'Jeeze, Maybourne must be hard up to be dealing with losers like these.' O'Neill's thought processes were interrupted by the sound of a van.

At least the rain had let up. From their vantage point in the bushes, Jack and Daniel saw a dark green van pull up into the clearing. When the lights went off, Jack could see Maybourne behind the wheel. He appeared to be alone.

'Appearances can be deceiving,' thought Jack as he signaled Teal'c and Carter with his penlight.

In a heartbeat, SG-1 had the van surrounded.

"Keep your hands in sight, Maybourne! It's all over!" Just as Jack expected, Maybourne gave up without a struggle. Jack had Maybourne secured in the jeep, handcuffed, when he started his
interrogation.

"Okay, Maybourne, exactly what is the merchandise?" Maybourne smiled and said nothing. It became obvious rather quickly that he was not about to say a word.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud! We know it's got to be in the van. You're just being contrary."

Maybourne simply continued to smile.

"Great. Carter, check out the front of the van. Teal'c, watch this asshole. If he twitches, kill him."

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill." Teal'c proceeded to loom over the prisoner, which he did very well. For the first time, Maybourne looked a little uneasy. For the time being, Jack would have to be satisfied with that.

"Daniel, let's check out the back."

Jack and Daniel were just getting into position when an eerie sound emanated from the van. Later, Daniel would remember it as a growling hiss reminiscent of a large, angry cat.

The doors flew open and something leaped out at the two men. Jack was just about to let off a round from his P-90 when he felt the barrel being pulled to the side.

"Jack, no! He's unarmed!"

Jack pulled the weapon free. He raised it to fire, aiming the crosshairs between two blue eyes. Just before he pulled the trigger they dropped out of sight.

O'Neill looked down at his feet in confusion. A tall, muscular man, a few years younger than he was, lay unconscious on the wet grass. He looked up to see Carter holding a dart pistol.

"I found it under the front seat," she explained.

A search of the van revealed the presence of another man. This one was not as tall and had short, curly hair.

Saturday 00:12 SGC, Colorado Springs, Colorado

Colonel O'Neill was finishing up his debriefing.

"Well, Sir, not knowing what else to do, we gathered up everything, including the van, and flew it here."

General Hammond sighed. It was after midnight, but his day was nowhere near over. He reflected yet again that he was getting too old for this. "Where are the men now?"

"In the infirmary," Carter replied. "Dr. Fraiser is running tests now to see if either of them are Goa'uld."

"And Doctor Jackson?"

Jack answered this time. "Daniel found some papers in Maybourne's briefcase. He's in his office studying them to see if there's any useful information."

Dr. Janet Fraiser entered the briefing room just as Jack finished.

"Dr. Fraiser, I assume you have something to report."

"Well, General, neither man is Goa'uld, nor do they have naquada in their bloodstream. The only fact of even mild interest is that the older man has received a gunshot wound to the leg sometime in the last few weeks, which has healed nicely.

"I had the men moved to a holding cell when I finished my examination."

General Hammond raised his eyebrows. "I have no serious objection, Dr. Fraiser, but couldn't they have stayed in the infirmary until they regained consciousness?"

Dr. Fraiser looked uncomfortable. "I should have mentioned, Sir, One thing that is peculiar is that the taller man seems to be extremely resistant to sedatives."

"You mean he's already conscious?"

"Nearly so, yes, Sir."

Whatever anyone else was going to say was interrupted by a staccato rap on the door and the entrance of Lieutenant Simmons.

"We ran those fingerprints as you ordered, Sir. Here are the results." He laid the file folders on the table in front of the General.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, dismissed." There were two folders, one considerably thicker than the other. Hammond picked that one up and handed the other to Colonel O'Neill. Hammond scanned the contents quickly.

"This is interesting. Our tall man is James Joseph Ellison, a former Captain in the Army Rangers. He's currently a detective in the Cascade Police Department, Washington."

"Holy Hannah," exclaimed Carter. "We kidnapped a cop?"

"Two," corrected O'Neill. "Well, sorta. Short stuff is Blair Jacob Sandburg. He's a cadet at the Cascade Police Academy." Jack frowned as he read further in the file. "For a cadet, he's had an active career."

The door slammed open and a whirlwind Jack recognized as Daniel Jackson blew into the room.

"It's absolutely fascinating! General, we have to persuade these guys to join us. Ellison and Sandburg could be an invaluable asset to the SGC."

"Daniel!"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Breathe! Then could you tell us what the hell you're talking about? And how did you know their names? We just found out ourselves."

"Oh! It's all in here."

Daniel handed Jack a thick paperback bound document.

"The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg," read Jack. "What's a Sentinel?"

Saturday 00:05 SGC Holding Cell

Jim's eyes flew open the moment he regained full consciousness. 'Blair' he thought in a panic. Relief and dismay warred within him when he heard the familiar heartbeat nearby.

He turned his head and saw Sandburg sleeping peacefully on a cot a few feet away.

Jim slowly opened his senses and catalogued his surroundings. Their prison took up half the area while a table and two chairs occupied the middle of the room. He and Blair were lying on cots angled in one corner of the cell.

Jim closed his eyes and turned up his hearing. He caught a faint electronic hum from the fluorescent light outside the cell. A listening device. In two corners of the ceiling, behind fake air vents, were surveillance cameras. In the outer room, of course. Damn.

There was a small sink and toilet in the cell. Jim carefully stood up, teetered for a second, and walked to the sink. He splashed some cold water on his face and felt a little better.

He checked on his Guide. Blair was curled up on his left side. His breathing was even and his heart rate was strong and steady. From the rhythm he could tell that Blair would awaken soon.

Tenderly, he smoothed the hair back from the beloved face. Blair had cut it short for the academy, but the curly locks still defied all efforts at control. Jim missed Blair's long hair.

For four long years, Jim had waited to run his hands through that hair. He had longed to taste those full lips and caress the hard, sturdy body of his Guide. Just when he thought he had ruined any chance at all with his Guide, he had been forgiven. Blair confessed that he returned his Sentinel's feelings. Jim swore to himself he would never take that gift for granted. So far, he hadn't.

Sandburg let out a low moan. "Jim?"

Jim placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Chief. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been drugged and kidnapped. How about you?"

Jim shrugged. "I've been worse. You should feel better soon."

"Yeah, right." Blair attempted to sit up then collapsed. "Whoa. Major head spinning here."

Jim helped him sit up and held him until the dizziness passed. "Chief, maybe you should lie back down for awhile."

"Love to, but if I don't piss soon there's going to be a flood."

"Yeah, me, too," Jim admitted. He helped Blair to the toilet then back to the cot before relieving himself. Jim decided to wait a little before telling Blair about the hidden cameras. Blair sat on his cot looking thoughtful. "Uh, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we wearing?"

Jim had been so focused on Blair and their surroundings that he hadn't noticed they were no longer wearing their own clothes. They had been cleaned up and redressed in . . . Jim bit back a snarl. Damn. Their worst nightmare.

"Jim? What?"

"They're uniforms. Air Force, I think."

"Military? The military have us?"

"Looks that way."

"Crap."

"Yeah." Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder. Blair held the hand there and looked into his eyes.

"Hold me."

"Um, Chief." Jim sighed. It was time Blair was told about the cameras. Especially if this was the military.

When he finished, Blair said, "CRAP!"

Saturday 00:33 SGC Corridor outside holding cell

Jack knew the General was good, but he was impressed all over again at Hammond's efficiency. They had all their ducks in a row, from the President on down. Now, all they had to do was convince the men in the holding cell.

"All right people," said the General. "We have a plan. Doctor Jackson, you convinced the President. Now, you can convince Mr. Ellison and Mr. Sandburg."

"Gee, thanks," Daniel muttered to himself as they entered the room.

They found the two men standing side by side in the cell, staring at them with twin sets of cold blue eyes.

"Convince us of what?" demanded Ellison.

Daniel almost jumped, but he caught himself. 'Well, of course,' he scolded himself. 'Enhanced senses! He heard us in the corridor.'

"Um. Well. First of all. Hi." He gave a little wave.

The men stared back, their hostility undiminished.

"You really need to get a new act, Daniel," Jack murmured.

Daniel glared at him briefly and then continued. "I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson. This is General George Hammond, Colonel Jack O'Neill, and Major Samantha Carter. I'm here to convince you to join us."

"You always kidnap your recruits, Jackson?"

Daniel really wished that Ellison would stop staring at him like that. It reminded him of a cat
staring at a mouse through a screen door.

"Hey," interjected Jack. "Technically, 'we' didn't kidnap you. Tell them, Daniel."

Daniel quickly explained how they came to be in custody. "While you were unconscious, we found this in Maybourne's possession." He held up the bound document.

Blair glanced at the title on the cover and groaned. "Oh, God, will the nightmare never end?"

Jim placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Chief."

"Like hell! I should have known it would be too dangerous to publish that dis, even if all your personal info was deleted. I was fooling myself, Jim. And that damn press conference didn't help at all."

"Excuse me." Daniel hated interrupting what seemed to be a personal moment, but he had little choice. "What press conference?"

"What do you mean?" Jim was outraged. "It was all over the news for days."

The group from the SGC looked at each other in an embarrassed manner. The General cleared his throat. "We tend to get busy here, son, and we're in a remote location. We sometimes miss things like that."

Jim gave Blair a look that plainly said, 'You want to tell them, Chief?'

Blair considered it a second. It was public record, so, why not? He told the group how his dissertation had accidentally become public---he left out how that had happened---the subsequent results, and his declaration to the press that his work was a fraud.

"You declared yourself a fake? Deliberately ruined your academic career?" Daniel was at a loss for words. "That was. . ."

"Stupid," finished Jack.

They all stared at him. "Well, it was! I mean, if everybody believed him, would they be here now?" No one had an answer.

"Fine," said Jim tersely. "Look, General, your people didn't kidnap us?"

"No, they did not."

"Are we free to leave?"

"If that's what you wish, yes."

Jim pointed to the cell door. "Then why is that still locked?"

"Well," said Daniel, "we're going to unlock the door. Right after you hear what we have to say."

"You need a locked door for that?" asked Blair.

Daniel pushed up his glasses and smiled nervously. "People have been known to walk out in the middle of the explanation. We want you to hear the whole thing first."

"What whole thing?" prompted Jim, who was beginning to lose what little patience he had. Daniel took a deep breath and began. "SGC stands for Stargate Command."

*

Twenty minutes later . . .

"Aliens," said Blair. "We're at war with aliens from outer space. A *secret* war with aliens from outer space." Blair looked to his friend and lover. "When did we fall into a fifties B movie?"

Jim ignored Blair. His attention was riveted on Daniel Jackson.

"Big Guy?" asked Blair, concerned that Jim might have fallen into a zone.

Jim flashed him a tight smile. "It's okay, Chief." Jim continued his intent study of the archaeologist. "They're telling the truth." His eyes narrowed slightly. "At least, they believe it's the truth."

"What!"

"Jackson's pulse and respiration have been steady the whole time. He believes he's telling the truth." Something else caught Jim's attention. He stared at the floor in front of Daniel Jackson and then Colonel O'Neill. 'Oh, God,' he thought.

"Wow," said Daniel, "you can hear my heartbeat? That's amazing! Add that to your other senses . . . you must be a human polygraph machine."

"If you say so," said Ellison.

Daniel would have said more, but just then Jim tilted his head to one side. He squatted down and felt the floor. "Do you get earthquakes in this area?"

"Earthquakes?" said Jack. "No. Why?"

"Jack!" hissed Daniel, "are any teams due back?"

Jack checked his watch. "Yeah, SG-3 should be coming back any time now." Brown eyes met blue eyes in perfect communication. "Daniel, no way. It's six levels down."

The conversation was interrupted by an ear-splitting siren. Blair reached for his Sentinel to ward off a sensory spike.

The Air Force officers looked at each other. "Foothold." they said simultaneously. General Hammond raced out of the room followed by Major Carter. O'Neill started to follow, but Daniel caught his sleeve.

"Jack, what about them?"

Jack understood what Daniel meant. There were a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea, but there was only one good reason to go ahead.

"Guard!" The SF on duty ran in. "Open the door," he ordered. As the soldier complied, Jack asked the men, "Ellison. Sandburg. Want a chance to see what we're fighting?"

"No!" said Sandburg.

"Yes," said Jim at the same time.

"Follow us," said Daniel. Jack, Daniel, and Jim charged out of the room.

Blair followed a half second later. "Jim! Are you crazy?"

Jack led the way to a stairwell. They ran down six levels and came out onto a steel gray corridor. He stopped at a large locker with a keypad lock and quickly tapped in a code to open the doors. Jack pulled out a P-90.

"Ellison, you checked out on this?" At Jim's nod, Jack tossed him the weapon with two clips of ammo. He handed Daniel his usual sidearm and ammunition.

"Sandburg! What about you?"

"I...I..."

"Hand him a .38 automatic, if you've got one," Jim said. "I checked him out on it myself." O'Neill handed the gun to the stammering Sandburg and outfitted himself with another P-90.

"This way." said O'Neill and led the way to the Gate room.

"How do we know who the bad guys are?" Sandburg managed to pant.

"You'll know." whispered Daniel.

The next turn brought the sound of gunfire to their ears. Blair glanced uneasily at Jim, but he noticed that the Sentinel had already turned down his hearing to compensate.

They ran up to a set up double doors where the General and Carter were waiting impatiently. Both had weapons at the ready.

The General glowered at the Colonel when he noted the presence of Ellison and Sandburg. Jack shrugged, as if to say, "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Ready, people?" the General asked. Everyone nodded, and they opened the doors.

It was bedlam and hell combined. Guns were being fired, and the return shots were flashes of light and intense heat.

'Lasers,' thought Blair. He blinked to get a better look and his eyes widened at what he saw.

There were two figures at the other end of the corridor. Blair could not decide whether they resembled a bad outtake of the Phantom Menace or a clip from the Ten Commandments.

The figures were tall, bearing long lances and heavy body armor which resembled Egyptian dress in a heavy handed way. Their slow, clumsy progress toward them would have been funny, if it had not been for the very messy corpses they left in their wake.

Blair found himself firing his weapon along with everyone else. The combined firepower somehow penetrated the armor. First one, and then the other figure fell to the floor. Hard.

"Everyone stand down!" ordered Hammond. "Get the haz-mat team down here ASAP."

Blair blinked. He had thought it was only the six of them defending the corridor, but there had been at least six more soldiers behind them, one of whom saluted and ran to follow the General's orders. "Now, somebody find out exactly how the hell these Jaffa got through the Gate!"

Another airman saluted and took off.

Jim was talking to O'Neill. Jackson and Carter began an animated discussion that Blair couldn't follow at all. Hammond was still barking orders at running airmen.

Feeling a little at loose ends, Blair decided to check out the so-called aliens. He walked down the corridor and knelt by the first body, waiting for the momentary nausea he experienced any time he was close to a dead body to pass. Then he began his inspection.

At that moment, Jack looked over and saw what Blair was doing. "Hey, Sandburg! Get away from there!"

"What?" Blair noticed a slight movement in the folds of the dead man's garb. He squatted to observe more closely. Rippling its way free was something that resembled a snake, but it was not a snake.

"Goa'uld," Blair breathed. Then his mind made the connection. "No! Jim!" he shouted as it launched itself at his body.

Blair heard a gunshot, and the beast exploded. He looked down at his arms and chest which were covered in blood and gore. Bright blue blood and gore.

'Aliens. From outer space.' Blair fainted.

*

Blair slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on a hospital bed, his head still a little fuzzy. Some people were standing around a bed next to him having a serious discussion. He forced himself to pay attention to what they were saying as he had a bad feeling that it was important.

Doctor Janet Fraiser was frustrated and annoyed. She was frustrated because she had no idea why her patient was a non-responsive zombie. She was annoyed because the SGC's resident archaeologist was trying to talk her out of treating him.

"Janet, I just think you should wait until his Guide wakes up. For all we know, Ellison could be allergic to what you've already pumped into him."

"Daniel, all I've done is start an IV drip with water and dextrose." She held up a syringe containing a yellow liquid. "I don't know what's wrong, but this condition is similar to a petit mal seizure. I'm going to give Mr. Ellison two milligrams - two, Daniel - of diazepam." Janet started to inject the solution into the IV line despite Daniel's continued protests. Suddenly, the syringe was yanked out of her hand, thrown violently on the floor, and then stomped on viciously.

"Are you insane! Are you trying to kill him? Don't ever give Jim anything and I mean *anything* without clearing it with me first! Do you get that, lady?"

"Now, Mr. Sandburg." Janet began in her stern doctor voice.

"Don't you Mr. Sandburg me. Jim is a Sentinel. A SENTINEL He doesn't react to drugs the way you and I do. And this is not a frigging seizure. He's zoned! Zoned! I thought you people read my dis."

"Sandburg," said Jack, who had been watching the proceedings with not a little amusement, "take a breath already. We're listening to you."

Blair ended his rant with an effort. He looked at Janet more calmly and saw that she had been trying to help. He felt a little foolish.

"I'm sorry. It's just... Jim reacts strangely to things you wouldn't expect to cause a reaction. An over the counter cold remedy triggered audio-visual hallucinations. Most sedatives don't affect him at all. Those that do can put him in a coma at normal dosages. That two milligrams of diazepam? It would have sent him to sleep for a good twenty-four hours." Blair started to sag, and O'Neill helped him into a chair.

"And this seizure? It's not a seizure. It's a zone-out. Jim has over-focused on one of his senses to the exclusion of everything else causing a fugue state." Sandburg glared at Daniel accusingly. "I thought you read my dis."

"I skimmed through it," he admitted. "Hey, I only had a few hours."

Jack cleared his throat. "Okay, Sandburg, it's a zone. Can you fix him?"

"Oh, God, yes! What am I thinking?"

Blair whipped around the three people and stood by the Sentinel. The Guide picked up Jim's limp hand and began to gently rub the back in small circles.

"Okay, Jim. It's time to come back. See me. Hear me. Smell..."

Jim gasped and his fixed eyes blinked. "Oh, God," he moaned. "How long?"

"I'm not sure." Blair looked questioningly at Dr. Fraiser.

"About half an hour."

Blair winced. "Damn. How do you feel, Jim?"

"Stiff. And my eyes feel like sandpaper." Jim blinked hard to re-wet his eyes as Blair helped him to sit up.

"What was it? What triggered the zone?"

"Argh. Smell. God, what was that thing? The blood smelled . . . wrong."

"Wrong? How do you mean?"

"I don't know!" Jim shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on his memory of the event. "Something about it was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be there. Something . . . something . . ."

"Evil," supplied O'Neill quietly. Daniel looked at him hard, but Ellison was shaking his head.

"No, not exactly evil. Just something out of place. Foreign?" he asked himself.

Daniel could feel the tumblers click in his brain. "Alien?"

"Yes!" Jim sighed with relief. "That's it. There was something about it that screamed 'alien'."

"You mean like the fact that its blood was sky-blue?" asked Jack with his typical sarcasm.

"Colonel, please," said Sandburg. "If it had been the color, Jim would have zoned on sight not smell." Blair patted his friend on the shoulder. "We'll figure it out, Big Guy."

"We always do, Chief," said Jim.

Jim was walking around the infirmary getting the kinks out of his legs when General Hammond and Major Carter walked in. The General seemed pleased to see Jim and Blair awake and upright. "Gentlemen. I see that you're back with us."

He turned to Jack and Daniel. "Well, we know what happened in the Gateroom. The Jaffa somehow got SG-3's GDO code and the first five were wearing SG-3's uniforms. It bought them just enough time to get five more Jaffa through the Gate before we were able to close the iris."

"How did they get out of the Gateroom?" asked Daniel.

"Bad luck," answered Carter. "A squad of reinforcements entering the room were mowed down by the Jaffa. The bodies propped the door open for almost a minute. Just long enough for two Jaffa to get past."

"How did they get the code?" Blair wondered aloud. He was met by an uncomfortable silence. "What?"

"Chief, they were probably tortured," said Jim.

"Oh."

"We need to get a rescue team organized," said Jack.

"Agreed, Colonel. Get SG-1, 6, and 9 ready to go in six hours."

"General..."

"Six hours, Colonel. Major Carter, get a MALP ready to go asap. I want to know what's going on with PX3994."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir."

Hammond sighed and reflected again that he was getting too old for this. He turned his attention to the Sentinel and his Guide.

"Mr. Ellison. Mr. Sandburg. We're a little busy right now. I'm going to ask Doctor Jackson to escort you to our VIP quarters until we can speak further. Doctor Jackson?"

"Yes, of course. If you'll come this way?"

"Just a minute." said Dr. Fraiser. "When was the last time either of you ate anything?"

The two men stared at each other blankly.

"Well," said Jim, "I had some tuna salad around eleven. Chief?"

"I didn't really have time for lunch," Blair admitted.

"And breakfast was a plain bagel and coffee running out the door," said Jim. "No wonder you passed out, Chief."

"Cafeteria first," ordered Doctor Fraiser.

"Then bed."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am."

*

Half an hour later, the rescue mission was off, and the Gate address was locked out. Jack stood before the MALP's monitor, unable to look away despite the knot in his gut and the bile in his throat. The five bodies of the SG-3 team hung by their wrists from wooden poles arranged in a half-circle in front of the Gate. Their heads lay between their feet.

"Dear, God," said Daniel, looking over Jack's shoulder.

"Yeah," said Jack. His voice was flat, but Daniel could hear the agony that lay beneath the cold reserve. "Somebody wanted to make a statement here. Who?"

"I'm not sure, Jack, but I have some ideas. It's not anyone we've come across before. The insignia the Jaffa were wearing is unfamiliar."

"Another new player in town. Swell. You can figure out who?"

"Probably. In the morning?"

"It is morning, but, yeah," Jack confirmed. He leaned back slightly. "Meet me at my place. I need you," he whispered.

"I'll be there," came the whispered reply.

*

After an uninspired meal of grilled cheese sandwiches---processed American---and tomato soup---condensed, generic---Jim and Blair were led to one of the VIP suites. Looking it over, Jim announced, "VIP must mean no bars and the door is unlocked."

Blair sighed heavily. There were two armed guards outside the door, which had him totally bummed out. "What time is it?"

"Hard to say. Maybe two or three in the morning?"

"Is that all? Oh, man, I am wiped out. I'm hitting the hay."

To his amazement, Jim hauled him up off the bed and marched him to the bathroom. "Shower first," he said.

"Jim, I'm tired, man. I'll shower in the morning."

"Now, Chief." Jim deftly stripped them both of their clothes and had them in the shower before Blair could sputter.

Once he was under the warm water, Blair started to relax. "Well, maybe you were right," he admitted. He pulled Jim's head down for a long, deep kiss. Jim was more than happy to oblige.

Blair had always been an enthusiastic proponent of kissing, but Jim had taught him an entirely new appreciation of the art. Jim put his whole self into his kisses, each one as sweet and succulent as the first. 'Nothing is like being kissed by a Sentinel,' Blair thought. Their tongues took turns probing the hot depths of their mouths. 'If all we ever did was kiss, I'd die happy.'

Jim joyfully plundered Blair's willing mouth for a few more minutes, then, reluctantly, he pulled away.

"Chief, we have to talk."

"Talk! You want to talk *now*?"

"Sorry, Chief, but this was the best way to talk privately."

Blair stiffened as he realized what Jim was implying.

"We're bugged! Again? In the VIP quarters?"

"Yeah, I hear the electricity zapping through the wires. Where there aren't supposed to be wires. Chief," Jim interrupted another outburst, "this is an ultra-secret military base. All the rooms are probably under some kind of surveillance. And it's necessary."

"And you want to join them, don't you? I could see it on your face."

"On my face, huh?"

"Nobody knows you like I do."

Jim looked longingly at Blair's utterly kissable lips, but he fought the impulse.

"Chief, we have to join the SGC. It's important."

"I guess you're right," Blair agreed, reluctantly. "If we have to join the military establishment, at least we'll be doing something to really save the planet. We need to do our part."

"That, too," agreed Jim.

"Too? There's another reason?"

"Just before all hell broke loose, I saw something." When he hesitated, Blair gave him his patented, 'Tell your Guide now,' look. "One of those things I wish I didn't see."

Blair's eyes widened with excitement. "You saw our spirit guides?"

"I saw spirit guides, all right, but they weren't ours. The SGC has another Sentinel/Guide pair. And I don't think they know it, yet."

"Who? The SGC or the pair?"

"Both."

To Jim's delight, Blair started to bounce on the balls of his feet. It warmed the Sentinel's heart. He hadn't seen that particular 'Blairism' since before the dissertation fiasco.

"Jim, what exactly did you see?"

"I saw a wolf and some kind of cat curled up at the feet of two members of the SGC."

"Who?"

"O'Neill and Jackson."

"Wow. Wait. What do you mean? Curled up?"

"You know. Sleeping."

"Sleeping. That might mean that the Sentinel is offline. I wonder if that means he's due to come online soon, or do we have to help him? It's no coincidence, Jim. We're here for a reason. We have to stay and help them."

"That's what I figured, Chief. And who better than us?"

"Who indeed? It just all fits. O'Neill is a military type, like you. Jackson's background is similar to mine, okay, it's actually better academically. O'Neill will probably get off on being a Sentinel once he gets the hang of the enhanced senses."

"Chief."

"I can really help Daniel with the Guide stuff."

"Ah, Chief."

"It'll be so much easier for them with someone who knows . . ."

"CHIEF. Sorry," Jim apologized. "But I had to stop the freight train before it derailed any further."

"What are you talking about?"

"O'Neill isn't a Sentinel."

"But, who? Oh, man, you don't mean?"

"Yup. O'Neill is a Guide. Daniel Jackson is a Sentinel."

"Crap."

END