Off-World Alphabet Soup, part 1 of 2

[fignewton]

My thanks to the 25 authors who made Off-World Alphabet Soup a reality: Antonomasia, Caprice, Cassie Morgan, Dragonfly, Eilidh, Elder Bonnie, Fig Newton, GateGremlyn, Goddess47, Immertreu, Ivorygates, Jb, Jedi Buttercup, Nymaeria, Madders Ahatter, Magistrate, Magnavox, Sally M, Solstice, Stringertheory, Svana Vrika, Thothmes, Topazowlet, Traycer, and Wonderland. A salute of the chef's hat to our new cooks: Caprice, Solstice, and Svana Vrika. Special appreciation to the regulars who come back for Soup after Soup to keep these gen fests going. And extra thanks to Eilidh, who contributed a backup story as well.

Enjoy over 50,000 words of off-world gen fic in 26 different stories! Ratings range from G to PG-13, and expect spoilers from pre-series to post-series. You can visit the table of contents to pick and choose a story, or just scroll down and start reading. As our prolific authors have, once again, exceeded even Dreamwidth's generous entry limits, only half of the anthology is in this entry. You'll find the second half over here.

Readers are strongly encouraged to comment at the individual writer's website. You can follow the title link to read it there, or the feedback link to comment.

A is for Alpha Site
by sg_wonderland

Colonel David Spencer allowed himself two minutes of self-pity as he strode toward the mess for the evening meal. Life on Alpha usually chugged along quietly, like the well-oiled machine upon which the military insisted. However, this morning a wormhole malfunction threw a monkey wrench squarely in the midst of that machine, leaving it squeaky and laboring toward an uncertain future. Well, technically, that would be four monkey wrenches.

He took a deep breath before entering the mess hall and facing his biggest problem head on. SG-1 was seated at his designated table and as far as he could calculate, would be his honored guests for at least a week.

“Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, Teal’c,” he greeted his guests. “Sorry I’m late.”

O’Neill waved his hand languidly. “That’s okay; we’ve already been greeted by both the waiter and the sommelier.” Dr. Jackson choked. “Something funny, Daniel?”

“There’s no such thing as a beer sommelier, Jack.” Spencer thought he detected a noticeable twitch to Dr. Jackson’s lips. He knew that SG-1 was the most unusually manned team at the SGC but he was surprised at the casual attitude Jackson had toward his commanding officer. He had to keep reminding himself that Jackson wasn’t military.

O’Neill rose. “I’d just as soon we get in line. We don’t expect special treatment, Colonel Spencer. We’re just another team as long as we’re here.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, Jack.” Spencer snorted as he followed them through the line. He wasn’t going to share with O’Neill the SG-1 gossip that was already running rampant across the base. He doubted that Major Carter could blow the whole base up with the contents of her pack; that Dr. Jackson was likely to either fall dead at any moment or get snatched by aliens; that Teal’c could lift a Jeep with one hand. And Spencer knew enough about O’Neill to know that most of the truth about his service would never be known.

Spencer just hoped his staff got past the hero worship phase quickly. The gate techs had flocked to help Major Carter analyze the data from the SGC and his aide hadn’t been able to articulate multi-syllable words as she handed SG-1 their visitor passes although he couldn’t fault her for the rooms she had assigned them. The barracks at C1 were the best visitor accommodations available, with several semi-private sleeping rooms and a designated officer’s quarters.

“So, David, is there anything specific we can do for you while we’re here? I can tell you that Teal’c and I are gonna be completely useless in fixing the SGC’s problems. Daniel might be able to fetch coffee or something.”

Spencer took his time perusing the night’s offering as a cover for the thoughts churning through his mind. “Let me think about that, Jack, and I’ll get back to you. I’m sure we can think of something to occupy your time.”

“I can tell you, Colonel Spencer, that Jack’s already scoped out your water source to determine if there are, in fact, any fish in that river.” Jackson pointed to the fajitas.

“Uh, Dr. Jackson, just so you know, the cook goes pretty heavy on the spices.” Spencer pointed out.

“Daniel has asbestos intestines, so he can probably handle it. Now, me, I think that baked chicken and stuffing looks pretty good.”

“The dish does appear most appetizing, O’Neill.” Spencer believed it was the first words he’d heard Teal’c speak. Major Carter and Jackson were quietly bickering about something as they selected desserts and drinks.

“Give it a rest, Carter.” O’Neill trailed them back to the table. “When have I ever treated you like ‘the girl’?” He took the seat beside Jackson. “Carter’s got her knickers in a twist because I assigned her the officers’ quarters. And it has nothing to do with her sex; it has everything to do with her tapping on that laptop the whole damned night and keeping me awake. That way, Daniel can sneak in and argue with her and Teal’c and I can finally get a full night’s sleep. Five days in a real bed without the two of them yammering at me all the time? I’m treating this as a vacation.”

“I’ll yammer at you every night before bedtime.” Jackson promised.

“Indeed you will not, Daniel Jackson, as my sleeping accommodation is adjacent to that of Colonel O’Neill.”

Both Carter and Jackson grinned unrepentantly.

*

Spencer made a point of getting to the mess extra early the next morning; therefore, he was more than a little disconcerted to find SG-1 already seated and plowing through breakfast.

“It doesn’t make sense for the wormhole to ‘know’ the difference in outgoing or incoming.” Carter waved a fork at Jackson.

“How many times have I heard you say ‘something-something-intuitive’?” Jackson rose to refill his coffee. Then, with a shrug, he just brought a carafe to the table.

“The wormhole isn’t capable of intuitive, independent thinking.” She countered at his return.

“So it’s like Jack?”

“Hey,” Jack frowned. “I was just minding my business here, eating my eggs. I didn’t ask to be insulted. By the way, Spencer, these eggs are really good.”

“That’s because they’re fresh eggs.”

“What?” O’Neill pushed the eggs around his plate.

“We’ve got an agricultural co-op going here. We raise chickens, cows, and pigs.”

“Are you growing crops?” Jackson asked excitedly.

“We are, Dr. Jackson. Would you like to take a look at the operations?” Please say yes, Spencer was thinking.

“I’d love it.”

“Me, too.” Carter flushed. “I mean, I’d love it if Daniel went out to look at the corn and beans, sirs.”

“And left you the hell alone?” O’Neill drawled.

“I would never say that, sir.” Carter replied primly.

“No, because I said it for you. Okay, Daniel, you get to tour the farm. Carter, back to the wormhole problem. Teal’c…”

“I will accompany Daniel Jackson on this farm tour.”

“Okay, keep in touch, kids. Spencer, why don’t you brief me on your security procedure? And you can let me know if you need anything.”

*

Spencer glanced behind him as Jackson and Teal’c followed Dr. Martinez toward the farm. “So, is there a reason Teal’c decided to go with Dr. Jackson?”

O’Neill shot him a quick glance. “No offense intended but until Teal’c has assured himself of your base security, he’s liable to bird-dog both Daniel and Carter.”

“So that’s why one of the guards reported they observed him walking a perimeter several times last night?”

“Just get used to it, I have.” O’Neill shrugged. “Teal’c’s got some kind of a Jaffa life bond thing going…don’t ask. So what’s your procedure for incoming wormholes?”

Spencer led him into the control room. “We don’t expect regular incoming like the SGC so….”

*

Spencer, O’Neill and Carter had already selected their dinners and were eating when Daniel and Teal’c finally made it. “You kids missed curfew again; your mother and I were worried.”

“Jack, they have the most amazing growing season here! They can get three full crops in a calendar year.” Jackson was slightly flushed under his boonie.

“Daniel, what have I told you about sunscreen?” O’Neill used his fork to tap the end of Jackson’s nose.

“I should have warned you about the sun,” Spencer apologized.

“Medical after dinner, Daniel.”

“Oh, but, Jack, Dr. Peyton was going to show me how they graft fruit trees.”

“Teal’c?”

“I will escort Daniel Jackson to seek the proper medical care. Let us obtain a meal, Daniel Jackson.”

“Dr. Peyton and her trees will still be there tomorrow, Daniel.”

*

Spencer and O’Neill weren’t running when they entered the infirmary but both men were definitely moving fast.

Teal’c greeted them at the door. “Daniel Jackson was uninjured, Colonel O’Neill. Dr. Peyton suffered a serious cut while demonstrating a procedure. We immediately transported her to this facility and the medical staff is assessing her condition.”

“Jack.” Daniel pushed through the doors; O’Neill drew a sharp breath at the splashes of red splattering the khaki T-shirt. “Not my blood, Jack. Connie was showing me how they graft and they use really, really sharp knives and maybe I was talking too much and her hand slipped….”

Jack rested his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “She’s in good hands, Daniel. Sounds like you and Teal’c did everything right.”

“They did, Colonel O’Neill.” A scrub-clad woman had followed Daniel into the room. “She’s got eighteen stitches in her hand, Colonel Spencer, and she’ll be on medical leave for a week or so but she’s damned lucky. If she’d been alone, she likely would have bled out before anyone found her. Dr. Jackson held pressure on the wound while Teal’c carried Dr. Peyton to the Jeep and then drove her right here.” She smiled at the two men. “And they both need to get cleaned up and maybe have some quiet time. I know that had to have been very traumatic.”

“On the contrary, Dr. Men, Daniel Jackson and I encounter many unexpected situations off-world; emergency medical aid is not unknown to any member of an SG team. However, I would welcome a shower and clean clothing. Daniel Jackson expressed a desire for a cup of coffee several hours ago. We should seek to fulfill that desire in all due haste.”

“Okay, shower, change of clothes, coffee. In that order.” O’Neill steered Jackson toward the exit.

“I’ll catch you over at the commissary,” Spencer said. “I want to check on Dr. Peyton first, and then I’ll be right over.”

“I wasn’t exaggerating, Colonel.” Dr. Men beckoned Spencer to follow her. “That injury could have easily been fatal.”

“Do we need to revisit medical procedures for the farm?”

“It wouldn’t hurt, Colonel Spencer.”

“Write up a proposal, Dr. Men. And I’ll talk to General Hammond; maybe we can get Dr. Fraiser out here for a few days and have her give us an assessment of what we can do better.”

“Thank you, sir. Dr. Peyton is right through here.”

*

There were cheers on both sides of the wormhole when a MALP lumbered through, carrying a cage of live mice. Carter turned toward O’Neill. “That looks like a successful outgoing wormhole, sir. All subjects arrived alive and unharmed.”

“Alright! With your permission, General Hammond, SG-1 will arrive in approximately one hour.”

“We’ll be expecting you. Good work, Alpha Site and Major Carter. SGC out.”

*

In the two weeks since SG1 had departed, Colonel Spencer had gotten a request for changes in medical procedure, a proposal to have Major Carter posted temporarily to Alpha for teaching purposes, three not-so-off-hand inquiries about how to apply for a position on a gate team and two people who had wondered about the possibility of stocking the lake with fish, indigenous to Earth and edible.

He realized that SG1, whether intentional or not, had left their mark on Alpha.

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Beating Ba’al
by topazowl

Daniel: This is it. All you ever wanted was a fighting chance, Jack, now you have it. If anyone can make it out of here, you can.
O’Neill: Daniel?

But Daniel had gone. Battle ensued overhead and the power shorted. Jack glanced round the cell and the wall became the floor again so he cautiously headed to what had become the exit. Overpowering the approaching Jaffa he grabbed the zat and went in search of the Lotar. With the phrase “we don’t leave our people behind” hammering through his head, Jack grabbed her hand yelling “Come on”.

Running through the halls of Ba’al’s fortress, no idea where he was going, zatting every approaching Jaffa, cursing Daniel under his breath in one minute and then thanking him in another, he eventually realised he should be asking the Lotar, Shallan where the flight bay was. She quickly pointed him in the right direction and they sped off.

In the back of Jack’s mind was a thought that really he should be chasing Ba’al and ridding the Galaxy of such an evil snake but Daniel had given him that fighting chance and he needed to take it. He had no idea what Daniel had done to get the SGC to ask Lord Yu to attack but he was pretty sure that that was what he had done. Now it was his responsibility to survive and take the girl with him.

Not thinking about how many Jaffa he had zatted and whether the zat was actually gonna see him through to obtaining his goal, they ran and within minutes they were in sight of the few remaining Death Gliders. Jack bundled Shallan in the back, screamed at her to belt up, hopped in and was away before you could say ‘red shoes’.

Their flight was fast and furious. Avoiding the missiles from Yu’s attack, he heard Shallan vomit as he threw the glider around, weaving in and out of other gliders, staff cannon shots and debris. After what seemed like hours but was, actually, only minutes, they were out of range.

Worried about recall devices and not knowing how far they could travel, Jack knew that they had basically exchanged one bad situation for another. He had no idea where they were and no thoughts about which planet to land on and where their might be a Stargate and he had also noticed he was being followed by a Tel’tak that was making no effort to engage him.

So Jack O’Neill’s thought processes took him from escape back to Daniel and the fact that, somehow, he must have contacted Teal’c, Sam or Hammond. They must therefore know where Ba’al’s base is and, just maybe, they’d contacted Jacob and they’d all come after him. Or maybe this was Ba’al coming after him.

That was arrogant and egotistical to even think that, he thought, but then the Goa’uld are arrogant and egotistical so maybe...

Performing more evasive manoeuvres, there was no attack, just a Tel’tak doggedly following him. Believe in Daniel? Of course he did. Trust an ascended being? This was Daniel, his team mate, his best friend and all round good person; Jack opened a communication channel to hear:

“Sir, is that you?” from Sam and “Jack, get your ass over here” from Jacob.

Once aboard, greetings over, Jack collapsed onto a pallet and slept the rest of the journey. Knowing he was likely to suffer withdrawal symptoms from the sarcophagus use, he distanced himself from the others who kept a wary eye out from a distance.

The next thing he knew was he awoke in the infirmary, Carter having administered a sedative at reasonable intervals until they return, Shallan returning to the Tok’ra with Jacob.

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Even in Space, It's the Thought that Counts
by sallymn

You would think - and Daniel has not only thought but mentioned it at length, and more than once - that in their secret billion dollar budget, the SGC would find the wherewithal needed to hire one or two professionals.

But you would be wrong, and for some years now years he, and Stan Kovacek (a military attorney, wasn't that close enough?) and the two or three anthropologists who could be trusted offworld were it. For the entire damn planet. After all, what does a Highly Classified Secret Military Operation normally need with an official diplomatic corps anyway? As Jack O'Neill says way too often and with way too self-satisfied a smirk, they can get by with charm, coffee, cake, above all chocolate... oh, and C-4.

Or not.

1.

"They're a diplomatic gift, Jack. Smile and look grateful."

Daniel isn't sure if their hosts hear him, he is just grateful that they don't understand military or any other form of English. Or possibly body language.

He pastes his customary 'thrilled and awed and appreciative' look on his face as he steps forward to examine the newest 'gesture of friendship and amity meant to seal the treaty between our two worlds from this life into the next' as the local chieftain put it (though in way, way more words).

Coffins.

Four massive, painstakingly carved and molded, embellished and enameled, and astoundingly true to - well, not life, more like true to death - coffins, one for each of SG-1. The likenesses with which they were lovingly decorated leave no doubt as to who they are for; Daniel spares a fleeting, disturbed thought for just how lovingly the locals have imagined him and his teammates as brilliantly, horrifyingly realistic - and totally naked - corpses, as he launches into yet another version of the 'courteous, enthusiastic and tactful' diplomatic spiel he and Kovacek had perfected for occasions like this.

"Well," Sam says faintly, her smile in place and her near-scarlet, mortified blush firmly ignored, "at least we know they like us."

"Lie back and think of the cadoliin reserves they are letting us have," Jack growls from the corner of his fixed grin. "Right, Daniel?"

"Something like that, Jack. The Chuaa people are quite obsessive about their death-cult religion, they spend their entire lives preparing to die and years creating their own very very... very personal coffins. They've already apologised several times for only taking a small fortune and the last four months to create these for us. What do you want me to say, we can't take them home?"

"We - you - too damn right we can't take them home."

"Yes we can."

"Can't."

"Can and must." Still smiling, Daniel turns a firm and reproving eye on his team leader. "Diplomatic incident, remember?"

"But - oh crap." Yeah, his team leader remembers very well the times some less than diplomatic SG team had caused an incident, an affront, an argument... and in at least three cases, a near all-out war with the words "we can't take that home!"

And these don't even need quarantining, worse luck. Arriving home with them will be...

Oh God.

"Colonel," Sam, bless her, says through gritted teeth, "can't you ask the General for an empty gateroom when we go back?"

Daniel likes that. "And four extra-large tarpaulins...

"Oh yes, and before we do," he adds as several of the natives came forward to wrestle with the coffin lids, "as part of the gesture of friendship... they want us to try them out first, for comfort. As in... right now."

"They..." Sam - who is carefully not looking where the hands are going on the painted naked likenesses - tries to pick her jaw up and fails.

"They -" Jack tries not to swallow his tongue.

"They do," Teal'c - who has stayed silent in his best impression of a wooden storefront Jaffa - stolidly affirms.

"So it's take your clothes off first, then lie back and think of the cadoliin reserves," Daniel goes on. "It's cultural, Jack. It's a huge compliment. It's the equivalent of giving the President a country's highest medal of honor. And it's because they really really like us and the gift we keep bringing them every visit." He sighs, and reaches for his belt. "I keep telling you, chocolate doesn't fix everything."



2.

"Doctor Jackson -?"

Why he agreed to go and help SG-3 out with this one, he doesn't know; Daniel sighs, fixes yet another "thrilled and awed and appreciative" look on his face, and launches into yet another version of the diplomatic spiel as he watches Colonel Makepeace trying to ignore the 'gifts' clustering around his legs, and those of his hapless team members.

These will need quarantining, oh yes. At least the General quickly saw the light about the alien menagerie/museum/quarantine station at the Alpha site... well, quickly enough after the present from PRQ-790 gave half the base some form of extraterrestrial (and thankfully short-lived) 'chiggers'.

And that nasty business with the 'purely decorative' but actually carnivorous confetti.

And SG-7's 'winnings' in a game of intergalactic not-quite-craps which turned out to provide the... yeah well, crap all on its own.

He pulls his thoughts back to the newest gifts, most of which are now looking up at him with liquid eyes and burbling in an oddly Lovecraftian form of... speech? Song? animal call? - that he hasn't heard before. Maybe he just thinks it's Lovecraftian because they look appallingly like baby Cthulhus made of pastel-colored candy - appallingly because from what he can tell, the locals see them as extremely rare and valuable farm animals and expect their newest and oh so valued allies to cook and eat them.

Not gonna happen, friends.

"We can't take them home," Makepeace says helplessly.

"Yes we can. And yes, we have to."

"But -"

"Unless you want to hold the feast right here and have the signal honor of..." Daniel makes a vague gesture that he hopes the locals won't recognize across his own throat.

SG-3, big tough Marines as they are to a man, gulp and falter and stare at him in appeal.

"Apparently they are delicious," Daniel goes on ruthlessly, taking a moment to wonder if - like so much in the galaxy - they do taste like chicken. "Though not nearly as delicious as the wonderful gift we have given them. After all, they were going to give you a nice set of decorated plates for the General -"

"We'll take the plates!"

"- But the king decided that was a poor recompense for your magnificent wonderful glorious confection. And he's hoping for more, lots more. So we take the little Cthulhus..." Daniel falters, realizing that he's now named the little things for officialdom forever, and his fellow geeks at the SGC will never let him forget it, "and hope they don't grow up to be... Cthulhus.

"And please... next time, remember that I've told you, coffee and cake don't always make things better, okay?"



3.

They do get plates though, at the next planet Kovacek, along with SG-6 and Robert Rothman visit.

Mind you, given that the plates, the cups, the bowls, the whole damn service, (including several utensils whose purpose not even Daniel wants to speculate on) is made of the exoskeleton and shellacked entrails of the local giant not-caterpillar, painted with the not-caterpillar's version of blood, and used in the feast in their honor, consisting of nine courses of not-caterpillar garnished with the chocolate Kovacek had given out - neither Daniel nor Makepeace begrudge them at all.



4.

The High Priestess of the Ct'uaa people on PXH-555 is one of the few people in the galaxy who doesn't like chocolate. She - and her people - like coffee quite a lot, true, but then they decide they like Daniel better.

It takes a hell of a lot of negotiating, arguing, bargaining, explaining and less-than-diplomatic hissy fits on both sides before the Ct'uaa accept that their offering of forty cynocephalus-milk cheeses and a half-share in their smallest some-new-and-apparently-unbelievably-useful mineral mine is, however reluctantly, not equal in value to the offworld visitors to Doctor Jackson, and take the coffee.

Oh, and pickled cabbage, once the High Priestess decides it tastes far better than chocolate. And no, neither the General nor anyone at home is undiplomatic enough to ask how the High Priestess found that out at all.



5.

This time, Daniel doesn't feel like offering the 'thrilled and awed and appreciative' look, or the 'courteous, enthusiastic and tactful' spiel to the locals.

This could have something to do with the cuffs on his wrists and ankles - gorgeous, elaborately wrought sort-of-rococo things made of carnelian, copper-colored metal, cats'-eyes gems and god knows what else - and a whole lot to do with the twin smirks on Jack's and Lou Ferretti's faces.

He is going to kill them once they are all safely home with the all-important trade agreement and treaty and the thirty-five other and quite unexceptional gifts the Cho-lamei have loaded on Jack as Great Commander and his 'entourage' (SG-1 and SG-2, five geologists looking for naquadah and a medic who is over the moon about the prospect of getting samples of the local miracle). And he is going to have help from the three other non-military members of the entourage, all in the same utterly diplomatic mess as he is.

Earth's Great Commander, it seems, is thought to be too lax with his clerics (who are rare and fragile and must be cared for, cherished and corrected whether they want to be or not) and needs tactful encouragement towards the proper discipline. Said discipline being softly lined cuffs, light but unbreakable chains and jaw-droppingly crafted, richly detailed, luxuriantly furnished, portable... cages. For safekeeping, it is explained.

(Sam and Teal'c, being not at all stupid, are keeping well out of this. Sam, being not at all stupid, is also acting military and non-intellectual and not at all clerical with all her not-inconsiderable might.)

"They're diplomatic gift, Daniel. Smile and look grateful," the Great Commander says gleefully. "You're the one who keeps telling us to respect cultural norms and the cultural norm here is obviously..."

"It's a cage, Jack," Daniel hisses.

"A cage with more and better fittings than most five-star hotels, admit it. Daniel, you've got a four-poster bed in there," Lou says, ignoring the fact that the posts are what Daniel's chains are bolted to, "and look at those books and scrolls and... stuff you like they've provided, enough to keep you busy for weeks. Not," he goes on quickly, at the scorching glare Daniel turns on him, "that you'll be in there for weeks."

Jack snorts, then makes a patented and quite deliberately failed attempt to wipe the smirk off his face. "That's right, my valued and delicate cleric - did I get that bit right, Daniel? - just till I can find an excuse to send you home -"

"Not like this, you can't."

"The cage and cuffs were a diplomatic gift, Daniel. Purely - what's the word you use? - ceremonial, that's right." Jack is way too pleased with himself, and Daniel is definitely going to kill him. "Hey, you're the one who keeps telling me we have to take the gifts, no matter how much we don't want to. Diplomatic incident, remember?"

Daniel represses the urge to flounce on the - okay admittedly - very soft and luxuriant bed. "I. Don't. Care."

"Look, I'll get the four of you sent home and out of all of this." Jack pretends to think. "Soon enough, anyway. It's probably worth a fortune, all that metal and jewels and... and yeah, we'll hang on to it all at the SGC. After all, if you have to come back at any stage -"

Daniel shakes his cuffed wrist, making the chains tinkle with a delicate beauty that adds insult to injury. "No way."

"Someone will have to, Daniel," Lou points out reasonably. "There's naquadah in them there hills, and someone will have to negotiate for it. Like the Cho-lamei Commander said, it's got nothing to do with status, he's happy for you to do the negotiations, just..."

"From - in there," Jack adds less than helpfully. "Where you'll be safe. Something I have been trying to make you for years, after all."

"Jaaack..."

"And more damn comfortable than any of us, trust me. The quarters for non-clericals are..."

"Cells, really," Lou offers.

"Adequate."

"Barely."

"Spartan."

"Hardening."

"Meant to toughen people up," Jack gives an overdramatic wince. "Trust me, you're better in there."

"With these?" Daniel shakes the cuffs again, and Jack's wince - mirrored by Lou's - turns a little more real.

"Like you keep saying, Daniel, diplomacy and cultural norms." Jack has clearly been actually listening to him more often than Daniel - at this precise moment - is happy with. "Tell you what, I'll be noble and do the whole 'thrilled and grateful and want to be pals more than anything' bit, the look and the shtick, for you this time. Just take that glower off your face for the sake of diplomacy -"

"And naquadah -"

"Okay? Just till we can trundle you and this back through the gate and home."

Daniel looks down, grits his teeth, and swallows the totally undiplomatic but pretty pointless retort. Diplomacy and naquadah. Yes.

And at least the Cho-lamei Commander doesn't want to keep him and the cage.

Jack is watching him; his smirk dies, just a little. "Daniel -"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"You do know... if there was any reason we thought you'd be hurt or were being treated badly..." Jack stops, maybe hearing the touch of uncertainty in his own voice. "You'd be out of there at once, even if we had to take C-4 to the lock. You know that, don't you?"

Daniel says nothing and says it loudly.

"Don't you? It's just for a day or two, then we'll go home with a nice fat trade agreement and everyone will be happy."

And he can then kill Jack and Lou. Okay. He's dealt with worse.

"And you can have your pick of the thirty-five other presents we're taking home, I'll get Hammond to sign off on that. There's some fascinating dooda... artifacts there. You'll have a great time with them."

Again, he reminds himself, he's dealt with worse.

"Daniel."

He looks up, and his Great Commander's pushed his hand through the highly decorate, faux-rococo bars, to offer his rare of not even slightly fragile cleric... a chocolate bar. Just one.

"They like the chocolate, at least. We'll be bringing back truckloads, at least, even if we give them other... diplomatic stuff, they want more coffee and Earth cake and candy and yeah, chocolate. They really really really like it."

Daniel sighs. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Well, pretty much everyone in the galaxy. If they're human, that is." Jack shrugs. "And sometimes if they aren't."

"Rule of nature."

Jack's lips quirk, in a real smile rather than that smirk this time. "Maybe you and Carter can write it up some time for one of the papers you'll publish when we go public."

"The Integral Function of Theobroma cacao in Interplanetary/Interspecies Politics and Mediation... yeah, that'll work."

"Think of the money we've saved the good old US of A," Lou says. "Allies give us gold cages and naquadah and artefacts -"

"And edible alien pets and even more alien dishware, and furniture and carnivorous confetti -"

"And don't forget the coffins," Daniel puts in.

Jack shudders. "Never."

"And we spread chocolate and coffee through the Milky Way, and somehow they all think it's pretty equal."

"You should get the credit, Daniel." Lou grins. "Or the blame. After all, you started it, didn't you? First bar of intergalactic chocolate, you gave it to all the way back on Abydos."

"I... oh god, I did, didn't I?"



By the time they get him home, Daniel has to admit the bed is the softest and best he's ever slept in.

He's still pissed enough to suggest that the chocolate supplies are diverted more than once to the people with the coffins and the cadoliin reserves. And he knows some of it ends up with the growing baby Cthulhus, who like it as much as their farmers did (though SG-3 never went back, too afraid of what they'd have to eat this time... or bring back alive)

The cages, cuffs and chains go into storage, with the coffins and the caterpillar crockery, and a hundred other things SG teams are given over the years. Sometimes, they even get taken out and given away as gifts to some other race... who won't know where they came from. Daniel doesn't always know himself.



You would think - and Daniel has, and does, and always will - that the SGC would find the wherewithal needed to hire one or two, or more, professionals. But then you would think that the SGC would find some other way to grease the wheels of diplomacy out there in the galaxy.

Maybe they can and they will, one day. For now it seems, Daniel and chocolate seem to be doing as good a job as anyone could expect...

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D is for Double-header
by eilidh17

D is for Damocles

"Stay down, Jack."

The room was oppressively hot, bodies packed tight in a space meant for a few but now full to overflowing with curious onlookers, or what Jack had christened as 'rent a crowd'.

"Like hell," Jack muttered beneath his breath as the guard behind him shoved the pointy end of a spear into his back once again. Not enough to draw blood, but Jack had pushed and pushed their captors since they had first been taken at the gate, and Daniel knew it was only a matter of time before it'd be one taunt too many.

He bit down on his bottom lip and chanced a quick look up at the wall behind the vacant throne in front of them. The wall, like the rest in the room, was awash with images from heroic battle scenes to individual portraits, painted in a style similar to artwork from the Greek classical period on Earth. But there was one image above all that had Daniel worried.

"What?" Jack whispered.

Daniel looked sideways at Jack, before returning his gaze to the wall. "They're waiting for something to happen."

"Give me some credit for figuring that part out. Big room, big audience, even bigger throne."

"Damocles."

"Dama--"

"Damocles, Jack. On the wall behind the throne."

Daniel saw Jack lift his head and then quickly drop it again. "Sword above the head?"

"Used in ancient history to represent imminent danger, usually to whoever is in power, but I don't think that's the case here."

"Of course not."

"Could be a court."

"Great. And dollars to donuts the judge is whoever the ruling Goa'uld is here."

"You didn't have to come along."

"Yes, not one of my finer command decisions. Tell me again what intel we relied on that told us this was a safe world?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, it most certainly does not," came the gravelly dual-tone voice of a Goa'uld from somewhere behind them. Jack attempted to turn, but his action was met with a slap to the back of his head, followed by a shove that sent him sprawling face down on the floor. The crowd fell quiet as the Goa'uld stepped around his captives and headed straight for the throne, his long blue robe washing over Jack as he walked past.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jack said through clenched teeth, pushing back on his hands and climbing to his knees again. "Kinsey, you smarmy son of a--"

"Really, O'Neill," the Goa'uld said calmly, and with a superior smile. "I'm sure you know nothing of the host survives."

"You keep telling yourself that, though in this case I couldn't care less if he was alive or dead in there."

"My host so missed your rapturous whit." He let his gaze slide between Jack and Daniel, and then back to Jack.

"Can't say the feeling is mutual."

"Jack," Daniel warned. "This isn't Kinsey."

"I know that!"

The Goa'uld took his spot on the throne and tipped his head in Daniel's direction. "Doctor Jackson, why don't you tell O'Neill exactly who I am. I'm sure you have it all figured out by now."

Daniel shifted his attention back to the artwork behind the throne, and the many images that to the casual observer told a story of heroism in battle, but in actual fact portrayed the reign of this particularly cruel Goa'uld. "The artwork really helped. Thanks for that."

"Impressive, though perhaps still a little understated for my tastes."

"Tyrannical leader not enough for you these days?"

"Whoa, wait up," Jack said, raising a hand and turning to Daniel. "Wasn't it you who told me not to bait the Goa'uld?"

Daniel shrugged. "He's going to kill us anyway. I just wanted to make sure I had my facts right."

"Which is oh-so-important."

"He's Dionysius the Second." Daniel turned to the Goa'uld. "I'm right, aren't I? After the invasion of Sicily by Timoleon, you were supposedly given safe passage to Corinth, but your fate was never accurately documented. You're responsible for the Sword of Damocles story. You left Earth. Went back to wherever you'd come from until you somehow ended up in the hands of the Trust."

"Very clever." Dionysius smiled almost appreciatively before his lips twisted into a sneer. "But even those who rule must ultimately serve."

Daniel frowned and stared off to one side, caught in thought. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell us who is worthy of such devotion?" he said after a moment. "Ba'al, perhaps?"

"And ruin plans for your planet that have already been set in motion?" He waved towards his Jaffa guards, who forcefully lifted Jack and Daniel to their feet. "Be comforted in knowing your fate precludes you from having to serve a Goa'uld master, unlike the rest of your pathetic little world. Kill them!"

"Wait just a minute--"

An explosion rocked the room. Not too close, but near enough to rattle the walls and bring the crowd to their feet.

"Kree!" Dionysius shouted to the nearest Jaffa. "Find out what has happened!"

"That'd be Carter," Jack said flatly, and just seconds before there was another explosion. "And that's Teal'c." Then a third, far closer and with a larger explosive yield. Jack looked at Daniel and smiled. "Must have brought reinforcements."

"SG-2?"

"I'm thinking 3. Reynolds just loves to let his marines blow things up."

"Oh, oh! Maybe both?"

"You know, I think you might be right." Jack turned to Dionysius, who was half out of his throne and gathering up his robes, clearly intending to make a quick exit. "Obviously, Kinsey's keen sense of self preservation has survived. Leaving so soon?"

"Don't complain," said Daniel in mock annoyance. "More food for us."

Jack feigned surprise. "There's food?"

"Hope so. Being kidnapped and beaten up is hard work."


D is for Decontamination

Sterility lived in another room, at the end of a routine that ran on a time loop, over and over until it was broken by an "all clear" that heralded the end of one phase and the start of another. At least, that's what the pictures on the laminated wall poster tried to convey with as much of that sterility as the process allowed.

Everything revolved around a routine of testing contamination levels, strip, shower, and retest. Simple enough, according to the neatly numbered pictures on the poster that showed the procedure in an almost child-like fashion, clinical and ordered, black stick figures on a white background.

So, he had stripped because the poster on the wall told him that removing clothing would reduce contamination by up to ninety percent, and because nurses in protective clothing had grabbed at his uniform with all haste but no care. Their words were clipped, barked like orders, and Daniel couldn't tell whether they had to yell to be heard through their suits, or perhaps they were just as eager to get away from him as he was to be anywhere else but here.

Fear clawed at his chest, memories buried deep bubbled to the surface as a powerful stream of warm water hit his shoulders and neck. Hands grabbed at his body, lathering him in a foul-smelling soap and touching him in places that dissolved all sense of modesty. Red and bleeding, glass embedded deep in his skin, a Geiger counter screaming its lethal warning, Janet pressing a potassium iodine tablet into his hand and trying not to look him in the eye, because they both knew what neither was prepared to admit.

"Daniel!"

The room was warm, the shower gone, and yet Daniel found himself curled up on his right side on a gurney, shivering under layers of coarse thick blankets. A hand on his shoulder forced him onto his back, and he turned to look up at Jack.

"Where?" he croaked, unable to quite find his voice.

"Are we? P2-something boring. You scared the crap out of the locals."

"I did?"

"Oh, yes. Apparently, diplomacy with the Catawii begins with an obligatory decon shower from the most xenophobic race in the galaxy. Just another annoying piece of information the Tok'ra chose to leave out of their oh-so-fascinating briefing."

Daniel pulled the blankets tight around his shoulders and forced himself to sit upright. "Not their fault."

"Like hell it isn't. The Tok'ra need this treaty more than we do, but we end up doing their dirty work again all because these folks won't deal with a snake."

"They're not Goa--"

"No crap, Daniel. This is one of those times where a snake is a snake, especially when the race you're dealing with refuses to differentiate. Personally, I'm on their side."

"The Catawii?"

"Yes... them." Jack shrugged and pulled at the ill-fitting one-piece garment the Catawii had given him, and hopped up on the bed beside Daniel. "I've had a decon shower or two in my time, but nothing like you--"

Daniel winced and dropped his head to his chest. "Yeah. Let's not go there."

"You gonna be okay?"

"If okay means I've reached my quota of one flashback a day."

"Yeah. Not sure it works that way, Daniel."

It didn't, but in truth Daniel considered he had done pretty well up until this point. He was back in the fold and functioning at the level he was at before the mission to Kelowna had planted a huge fork in his path. "We only have to do that once, right?"

"Yep. Stripped, bathed, bathed some more and given the all-clear."

He nodded once and let the blankets fall from his shoulders, the memories retreating to the dark recesses of his mind where they usually resided. "Then I'm good."

"Excellent!" Jack slapped a hand to his back and flashed a smile. "Wait until you taste what passes for coffee here."

"Good?"

"Oh, yes."

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E is for Extraterrestrial
by immertreu

“Daniel!” Jack O'Neill barked, startling their resident archaeologist out of his reverie and into the here and now.

“Yes, Jack?” Daniel replied guiltily, forcing his gaze away from the fascinating stone object in his hands, which he'd been studying for the past few minutes. It could be this planet's version of a throwing weapon. Or some kind of currency. Or maybe it was just a pretty, arrow-shaped rock after all. Daniel pocketed it and turned to his impatient team leader – who in turn didn't look at him anymore but into the far distance instead.

“Carter, look alive!” he ordered. “Teal'c, take cover until we know more.”

Their team members complied without question. Sam straightened and looked around carefully. Teal'c, imposing as ever, and his staff weapon vanished behind some kind of scraggy vegetation that looked to be the alien variant of a blackberry bush.

Jack thumbed the safety off his P-90 and finally spoke to Daniel again: “Looks like E.T. has decided to pay us a visit.”

“Huh?” Not comprehending, Daniel finally turned to gaze across the vast mesa surrounding the Stargate they had stepped through roughly thirty minutes ago – and stared open-mouthed. The inhabitants of P2A-577 that came trotting towards them in a long procession did indeed resemble the famous movie alien. But that was only a puppet, wasn't it?

“Uhm,” he mumbled, for once lost for words, and quirked an eyebrow at his friend, trying to regain his equilibrium. “I thought we had established that aliens are little gray men?”

Jack snorted, loosening his stance while trying to appear harmless to the approaching company. “They look greenish-brown to me.” He observed the leader of the E.T.-like aliens separating from the rest of the group and nudged Daniel on. “You're up. Have fun!” Under his breath his added, “We should have brought a phone...”

Daniel scowled at him but took a few steps forward, a smile on his face and hands held up in the universal – or so he still hoped – sign of peace. Jack and Sam followed in his wake, one step behind and to the left and right, respectively, keeping an eye on their new “friends”.

When Daniel finally stood face-to-face with the big-headed, blue-eyed alien whose long limbs and huge eyes in a friendly face were eerily reminiscent of Steven Spielberg's extraterrestrial, he nodded politely and spoke: “Hello, my name is Daniel Jackson. We're peaceful explorers from Earth...”

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F is for Forcible Confinement
by sg1jb

Jack kicked at the bars of his current home away from home and glared at his new roommate. "Ancient's site, my foot," he snarled. "Tell you what: next time you find some cockamamie reason to request the presence of my team, just ... don't."

"I never said it was an Ancient's site; I said certain elements of the ruins indicate possible Ancient influence on the civilisation pre-dating the current one."

Balinsky was either very brave or seriously lacking in judgement, Jack thought. He immediately opted for poor judgement – the man clearly didn't know when to shut up – as Balinsky, seemingly unwittingly, added to fuel to Jack's fire by inanely adding, "And we didn't request your team. We requested Dr. Jackson."

Speaking of whom ... Jack pressed more closely to the rough-cast iron bars as the door to the cellblock squealed and creaked open. But it wasn't Daniel that the post-dated current civilisation's indigenous assholes dragged in. It was Dixon, and he wasn't moving under his own steam. Balinsky abruptly leaked anxiety all over the dirty straw on the floor of their cell and began chittering appeals that fell on deaf ears.

In satisfying contrast, Jack reached through the bars to make a grab for the throat of the nearest man as they passed by ... only to get his arm clumsily slashed at for his trouble. That was okay; it was more of a graze than a cut, and now he had a match set.

Dixon was tossed into the cell immediately next to theirs, and on their way out all three natives made a show – an equally clumsy, unconvincing one – of swinging their dirty knives through the air in front of Jack. No doubt they intended their manly display as advice that Jack keep his arms inside the vehicle at all times. Yeah, as if. Total amateurs.

The far door closed with a thud. Dixon readily enough climbed to his feet and approached the bars separating the two cells. Jack looked him over and was satisfied with what he saw. "Nice ride?"

"The suspension's pretty rough, but it beats walking," Dixon drawled, and gestured a 'settle down' to his fourth. "Relax, Balinsky. Just making them work for it. I'm fine." He moved closer to the bars between him and Jack, lowering his voice to a whisper as he indicated the high, barred openings on the back wall of each cell. "The walls have ears. I overheard a stray comment: they've got someone stationed outside."

"You figure they understand enough Earth-side modern English to follow what we're saying?" Jack asked, dismayed to hear their rough-around-the-edges captors had enough sense to do such a thing. That was disappointing, but as long as there was just the one, or two or four, and not a battalion out there, it was more of an inconvenience than an actual problem.

Dixon gave him a head-wagging, middling affirmative and raised his voice to speak at normal volume. "Sorry to have been so long. Not sure why, but they chucked me into a room and just left me there for, I don't know ..." He glanced at his wrist where his chronograph should have been, but wasn't. "Couple of hours or so, I figure."

Jack shrugged. "You've been gone at least that. They just left you there alone all that time?"

"All but the last bit. When they finally came back they seemed pretty upset. All they did though was ask me where the rest of us were, and I told them I didn't know; they'd left without us. They didn't seem to know what to do with that answer." He paused, then his tone changed from casual to concerned as he advised Jack, "I didn't see our gear anywhere. Didn't see or hear any sign of Dr. Jackson either."

Daniel and Balinsky had being trying to defuse the tension accompanying the sudden appearance of highly anxious natives at the ruins. Armed with knives and a variety of what looked to be farming implements, the group of men were disorganised and hadn't seemed to know what to do with themselves; Jack had been cautious – and yes, he had to admit to himself now, somewhat impatient – but he hadn't been overly alarmed. Abruptly, though, out of the blue, Daniel had taken a knock to the head from behind. He'd gone down and had been dragged into their midst before Jack could get to him.

The natives' possession of a dazed beyond functional Daniel posed a serious complication, and Jack's reaction had been immediate. He sighed now, remembering the scene, and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Guess that warning shot might not have been such a great idea," he muttered. The natives had abruptly panicked, unfortunately in the direction of fight rather than flight, and the confrontation had immediately degenerated into an outright melee. As he'd been pushed to the ground under a pile of four men, Jack had lost track of everything but his own situation.

"You followed SOP. I was about to do the same thing," Dixon assured him. "You had no way of knowing that crowd was so high-strung."

Not true, though, was that? Looking back, he now recognised all the signs had been there – this was a group of men trying to hide unreasoning fear behind a display of false bravado. And he could also see two other things: that Daniel had realised how fragile the situation was right away, and that the threat implicit in his, Jack's, pretentiously cocky attitude just might have earned Daniel that impulsive bash on the head.

Well, he'd apologise when he next saw Daniel. Because Daniel was all right and Jack was going to be seeing him again, sooner rather than later if the rest of their teams had anything to say about it. Actually, sooner than sooner would be good, he reminded himself. Because Carter, Teal'c, and the two remaining members of SG-13, following a stream containing trace amounts of trinium further upland toward its source, were due to check-in any time now ... and if any of these people were near the comms when the call came in, no doubt this situation would degenerate even further.

Dixon told them what he'd seen of the building, which unfortunately was precious little. Just outside the noisy door to the cellblock was a small storage room where their guards hung out, from which a short corridor led to a T intersection. Dixon had been kept in the room to the left, while to the right all he'd seen was a closed door.

Another squeal of rusty hinges heralded the door being opened once again. Jack moved to the front corner of the cell, where he had a better view of the entire doorway. He breathed a sigh of relief as Daniel, sandwiched between two men and moving under his own power, was escorted past the guard who'd opened the door. Satisfaction turned to concern, though, as he noticed those men were partially supporting his teammate rather than simply walking alongside him.

Looking decidedly wobbly, Daniel nodded to Jack and Balinsky as his captors guided him toward the empty cell on the opposite side of the room. Or at least he tried to nod – the movement had him grimacing before he'd completed it, and in the next instant his knees buckled. His guards were carried down into a near crouch before they could get a handle on him, and as they moved to straighten up Jack realised Daniel had passed out.

The natives' ensuing actions were worthy of audition for a Keystone Cops remake. "What the everlovin' hell ...?" Jack heard Dixon mutter, which coincidentally was the first thing that had just entered his own mind. The two men holding Daniel up appeared to panic, each of them excitedly turning in different directions at the same time. The guard at the door rushed toward them, only to be tripped up by Daniel's dragging legs. Amateurs, indeed.

A snarled conversation too low for Jack to make out ensued amongst the three as Daniel dangled between them, and in short order, despite an obvious lingering disagreement, hey hauled him more upright and manhandled him not into the cage in front of them, but instead down the aisle to the door of Dixon's cell. Dixon obligingly backed off as the two managing Daniel's limp body shuffled around to let the the third, unencumbered, man past them to unlock the cell door. Another bit of sad slapstick ensued when one of the men tried to unceremoniously toss Daniel into the cell while the second kept hold of him.

Once Daniel was finally deposited face down in the straw, all three men hovered around like drunken butterflies in front of the closed cell door. Dixon knelt to check Daniel out, and looking every bit as bemused as Jack felt, tried to shoo the three looky-loos away with a flick of his fingers. "Off you go," he told them. "I've got this," but they only moved to leave when a few moments later a moan and shift of legs indicated Daniel was coming around.

As soon as the cellblock door was fully closed with all three on the other side, Dixon abruptly fell onto his backside, grinning, and quietly hooted in amusement. Jack was about to tell him that even despite the three stooges' ineptitude there was nothing funny here, but was beaten out by Daniel rolling over onto his back and complaining, "Do you mind keeping it down? I have a headache."

Jack could easily see that he did, too, a real humdinger complete with slitted eyes, sickly pallor, and shaky hands. The collar and one shoulder of his tan t-shirt were darkened, clearly recently wet, along with the hair on the back and the near side of his head: he'd been cleaned up. That meant he'd been hit hard enough to have bled, which meant Jack's reason for regretting having fired that warning shot was open to revision – now, he halfway wished it hadn't just been into the air.

Dixon helped Daniel to sit up, and clapped him lightly on the back. "Well played, Doctor," he softly praised.

"What? I don't get it," Balinsky fairly whined in confusion. Jack rolled his eyes – so okay, yep, bit of a dearth of judgement there – and in a low voice warned him to keep the volume down for this particular conversation.

Jack had to admit that even as a crazy long shot Daniel's gambit had been worth trying, especially considering it had actually worked. But at the same time, he had no idea why it had been successful. Even as apparent novices, these people knew enough to lend the walls ears and to cage the most vulnerable team member, not to mention probably being the one with the most intel, separate from the rest of them. Surely they had to be smart enough not to give up a tactical advantage simply because their captive was ill ... no?

The four of them gathered into a huddle, seated by the bars between the two cells. "I didn't want to be put in the other cell," Daniel softly explained to Balinsky. "Apparently hurting me was an accident; they're appalled it happened and have done their best to take good care of me. So I figured trying to take advantage of their concern was worth a go."

"This," Jack hissed, waving an arm first toward Daniel then at their surroundings, "is taking good care of you? If this is their best, I'd hate to see their worst."

"Well you just might, if you foolishly keep trying to intimidate them," Daniel calmly advised.

"Hey, watch the name-calling. And I haven't done anything they haven't asked for," Jack protested, deciding to discard that apology he'd told himself he'd deliver.

Daniel looked skyward. "They think you're a lunatic, Jack."

Dixon snorted at that, and Daniel aimed the same long-suffering expression toward him. "Neither of you are doing us any favours. Look, they're afraid, and your posturing simply reinforces that fear." He looked at Balinksy and asked, "What happened here, Cameron? I assumed you had their trust, that you had permission to explore the ruins?"

"We did have permission. We wouldn't have called you in, if we didn't." Dixon raised his eyebrows in enquiry at his fourth as he added, "Although clearly, the trust thing can't have been very well established ..."

Balinsky was a picture of misery as he sat there trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. "I'm not sure," he eventually whispered. "They were a bit wary of us, but I really thought they understood we weren't a threat to them. I guess I missed something; I'm really sorry."

Daniel massaged his neck as he dismissed the apology. "It's all right. We'll figure it out and talk it through with them."

"Any signs of them having past experience with the Goa'uld?" Jack thought to ask. "Specifically, the Jaffa?"

Dixon looked affronted. "That's one of the first things we discussed with them, Jack. We're not rookies, and we're perfectly aware there's a Jaffa on SG-1."

Daniel's shaky hand went from the back of his neck to rubbing his eyes. He looked to be increasingly the worse for wear, and as he swayed enough that Dixon put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, Jack decided to put the issue aside for the time being. Obviously, Daniel believed figuring out why these people had gone from cautiously accepting to unglued might – yeah, like in a pig's eye, was Jack's opinion – help them talk their way out of here, but as their lead negotiator the man was nowhere near up to the task.

"All right, look, let's table this for a while, give you two –" he gestured to Dixon and Balinsky "– a chance to think over what might have set them off. At the moment, I'm more concerned at what the fall-out might be if they discover we tried to mislead them."

At a blank look from Daniel, Jack filled him in on Dixon's faux interrogation. "Given how reactive these guys seem, if any of them are near enough to the comms to hear Carter's check-in the shit's probably going to hit the fan, toot-sweet. We need to be ready to handle that."

"Or not," Daniel quietly mumbled, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the bars. He raised a hand, one finger extended to request a moment, and engaged in some deep breathing.

"You going to puke?" Dixon asked, shrinking back slightly.

Worried about the possibility of concussion, Jack met Dixon's gaze and jerked his head toward the floor of the cell. Daniel resisted Dixon's attempt to ease him down, though. "Wait, wait, just wait," he insisted. A quick grin passed across his face as he raised his head. "Unless I was hearing things that weren't there, and actually, even if I was, that's probably all we have to do – just wait. We still need to figure out what went wrong, of course, so we have a basis for settlement when the time comes, but ... yeah."

Yeah, what? "Now you're not the only one with a headache." Jack rubbed his own forehead. "Daniel, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I was pretty rough for a while ... fading out, threw up a few times ..." Dixon shuffled back a few inches and leaned away. "I told them we had medicine that would help me, and they took me to our gear." Dixon leaned forward. "It's in a different building. Everything was there, all intact; they hadn't messed with any of it. It's significant that they were worried enough about me to do that, Jack."

"Aside from injuring you being accidental, they know there's more of us where we came from," Balinsky whispered into a gap created by a renewed attempt by Daniel to cope with his nausea. "They don't want to hurt us, plus they're afraid of retribution."

Daniel nodded slightly. "Yeah. They really haven't a clue what to do with us. From what I saw and heard, from the people I came into contact with, anyway, I think they'd like nothing more than to just let us go. But they're terrified that –"

"Daniel," Jack gently interjected. "We get it. Our gear ...?" he prompted.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, they had all four vests in one convenient pile. I managed to turn off three of the radios and give Sam and Teal'c a couple of clicks. Pretty sure they responded."

Dixon frowned. "Pretty sure?" he jumped in. "I think we need better than pretty sure, Jackson. And they sure as hell will need more than just a couple of clicks. But thanks for trying."

Jack sat back, waiting. Sure enough, the criticism provoked a large enough spike in Daniel's energy level to fuel a longer spate of words, through which his irritation was all too clear even at a whisper. "I'm no rookie either, Colonel. Yes, okay? I'm almost certain they responded. It was a bit difficult to hear because I was being pulled away at the time – it's just a quick touch to turn them off, but the only way I could conceal what I was doing with the last one was to pretend to collapse onto the vest." The mulish tone faded into weariness as he added, "But it doesn't really matter."

What doesn't ...? Ah, aha. "What did you do?" Jack asked, understanding Daniel had managed more than just those clicks.

The surge of energy mostly drained away, Daniel rested his forehead against the bars again and smiled faintly at the ground. "Locked it on transmit as they hauled me off. Started babbling away." The rueful smile stayed in place as he quietly sing-songed, "It's okay, I'll be fine; please let us go; I know you're afraid but please, just let us go; I promise we won't hurt you ..."

Promise we won't hurt you, huh? Jack shook his head. Typical, just freaking typical.


..................................................................



What had to be at least a couple of hours passed before the Three Stooges tromped in and headed toward the next cell. They carefully stayed out of arm's reach as they passed Jack, somewhat blunting the excitement of having something other than staring at the walls to do. But oh well.

Dixon planted himself in a wide, assertive stance between the cell door and where Daniel slept curled up in the straw. His message was unmistakable, and after a short bit of vacillation in front of the cell, the men huddled into a short a whispered conversation then headed back out the door. Jack and Balinsky joined Dixon in moving to the bars between the cells, Dixon quietly commenting, "Good thing he's asleep. Ten to one he would have agreed to go with them."

"Yep. Never mind agree, he'd suggest it," Jack confirmed.

"And what's wrong with that?" Balinsky leaned in toward them both, spilling a mix of reproach and frustration familiar enough to Jack that he wondered if Daniel had tutored him. "In case you missed it: it looks like these people would like nothing better than to be convinced it's safe to let us go. They're frightened and have no idea what to do."

Jack deferred to Dixon; this was his team member, after all. "What's wrong with that," Dixon lowered his voice to just above a whisper, "is we need to avoid being separated again. If Jackson's trick with the comm worked, SG-13 and SG-1 are already here, scoping things out. The last thing we need right now is one of us closeted away with these folks in an unknown location." Then with a faintly apologetic glance at Jack he added, "And as we all know, frightened people can do unexpected things."

"Yes, like being talked into believing what they desperately want to be true," Balinsky insisted. "With a little time and some caref–"

He was interrupted by the cellblock door abruptly squealing its way open yet again. The same three men entered. As they headed directly toward the door to their cell, Balinsky quickly stepped in front of Jack, blocking his path toward the front bars. "Frightened men can do unexpected things," Balinsky quickly parroted, warding him off with an upraised hand that Jack dearly wanted to swat away. He ordered Balinsky out of his way, with no effect. Then as the cell door was opened both he and Dixon ordered him to not move an goddamn inch, also to no effect, and after that there was nothing much Jack could do short of initiating another melee.

They took him – took Balinsky, who went altogether placidly – and as soon as the cellblock was once again theirs alone, Jack whirled around to face Dixon. "What was that?" he complained loudly, arm outstretched toward the far door. "What did I tell him? What did you just order him not to do?"

From behind Dixon, the peanut gallery unexpectedly piped up. "Oh, please. Don't pretend he had a choice." Daniel climbed wearily to his feet and took just two steps toward Dixon before deciding the better of it and reversing his path. "They won't hurt him, and maybe he can make some progress." Reaching the back wall, he turned and slid down it to sit beneath the high, open window.

"Well, whatever they do with him is out of our control now, isn't it?" Jack retorted. "And whether or not they might hurt him isn't the point."

"It hasn't been within your control from the moment you got locked up, and I know exactly what your point is," Daniel shot right back. Dixon wisely retreated to the far side of the cell.

Daniel waved a hand toward the opening above his head. "If I'm not mistaken, it's still daylight, right? And that they won't hurt him is, in fact, an even more important point than the one you were trying to make. These aren't an aggressive or unreasonable people, and allaying their fears is probably the best way to get out of here without anyone on either side getting hurt."

"And if I'm not mistaken, someone already did!" Geez Louise!

Daniel had nothing to say to that, simply nodding slightly before he closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wood planks. Jack took a deep, almost-calming breath. "All right, all right," he conceded in return. "I get what you're saying. Look, obviously we'd all like it to go that way, but considering how things went the first time you tried talking to these folks, I'm not inclined to pin my hopes on conversation."

"What a surprise." Clearly feeling unwell, Daniel slid sideways to lie down alongside the wall. His voice was thick with fatigue behind the arm he brought up across his face. "I get it, Jack; I know what's going –." He stopped dead there, simply rotating his free hand to finish off the sentence.

Good boy. Well done. "I know you do. Don't worry, it'll work out fine," Jack gently told him, his irritation melted down to nothing. "Go to sleep. It'll be okay."

He and Dixon waited for a bit, until Daniel was well settled, then met at the front corner of their cells for a hushed discussion. Dixon glanced toward the outside wall concealing their eavesdropper, and acknowledged Daniel's presence of mind with a tip of his head in Daniel's direction. "Nice save. You know, Jack, he's right about one thing," he whispered. "There is still time in the day. Even if our teams are out there, nothing's going to happen until dark anyway."

"He might be right about more than just that – he often is," Jack allowed. "But talk can go sideways just as easily as straight ahead. In this case, I'm not willing to risk the certain bird in the hand for a nebulous one in the bush."

Dixon huffed a quiet laugh. "I think both Jackson and Balinsky would take issue with which bird you think is which."

Yeah, no doubt they would. "Speaking of Balinsky ..."

Dixon shook his head, bristling slightly. "Give him a break, Jack. He's a bright guy and a reliable member of my team. I was right there with him when we met these people – he did and said all the right stuff. Quit ragging on him, okay?"

"Whoa, Dave," Jack soothed, both surprised and impressed by the outburst. Dixon's strong defence of Balinsky was good reason for Jack to rethink his impression of the man, and, okay, he would do just that ... but actually that had nothing to do with what he'd just been thinking. "I was just going to say I hope he's able to coax some food and water out of our hosts. We missed lunch." Not to mention that Daniel needed to replace the fluids he'd lost.

Dixon eyed what they could see of the sky through the window openings. "Still a while before dinner; hopefully we won't miss that too," he observed. "Gotta tell you, unless things improve drastically, the accommodations here are in for some pretty negative reviews."

"So you guys use a scale too?" Jack asked, and at Dixon's blank look he elaborated, "A rating scale?" The man still looked blank. "For the lock-ups?"

"For the lock-ups," Dixon repeated, shaking his head very slowly. "SG-1 has a rating scale to compare jails? Uh, Jack, just how many times has your team been forcibly confined?"

Jack's brain automatically began enumerating. "Oh, often enough," he slowly replied, pushing thoughts of Hadante, Goa'uld holding cells, and various other negative experiences out of his mind. He was puzzled for a moment by the odd expression on Dixon's face, then, abruptly, he got it. "Oh no, come on," he protested. "Zero? None at all?"

"None at all." Making matters worse, Dixon's faint embarrassment seemed more Jack's sake than his own. "A perfect record," he confirmed, then grumbled,"Well, until today, at least. Thanks a lot, Jack."

They both sulked over the tribulations in life for a short while, then passed more time in hushed consideration of the most likely scenarios once the rest of their teams showed up. And when there was nothing more left to share save complaints, they fell into a silence that stretched out interminably. Daniel got up once to retch into the raised wooden trough in the far back corner of his cell, and a few minutes of pressure to his head wound was needed for some light bleeding. Otherwise, the tedium was uninterrupted.

Jack kept half an eye on the windows, tracking the day's slide toward evening. As visibility in the cellblock dimmed in concert with the onset of dusk, and an uncomfortable chill seeped in through the plank walls, Jack and Dixon began to exchange mutually concerned glances as to the whereabouts of Balinsky.

Dusk came and went, and the chill in the air moved toward outright cold. It was dim enough in the cellblock that Jack's colour vision was gone, everything muted into dark greys shading to black, when Daniel suddenly scrambled toward the centre of his cell, away from his resting place along the back wall. "Ah, hello," he softly uttered in caution, and flapped a hand toward the wall.

Jack moved as far over as possible to the other cell and joined Dixon in standing stock still for a moment, listening. It wasn't what he heard, though, but what he just barely saw that abruptly captured all of his attention: a small blob, just a bit darker than the night sky behind it, hovered next to a bar in the window opening above where Daniel had been resting. It swung first to the right, then left, in surveillance before disappearing from view.

Quiet, indiscriminate scratching sounds followed, seemingly moving higher up the wall. Within seconds, a medium-grey oval rose from below into the centre of the opening. Daniel moved forward and repeated his hello, this time in an entirely different tone of voice.

"Hey, Daniel. Got your message," Carter whispered. "Are we clear?"

"Clear," Dixon told her. "Three guards just behind a wooden door, though. Need to keep it down."

"Understood, Sir. Head's-up," she warned, then ducked down. A dark object sailed forward through the bars.

Daniel caught it, and, not altogether willingly from what Jack could see in the dim light, handed it off to Dixon. As faint noises along the wall indicated Carter's descent to the ground, they both joined Jack at the cell bars. The radio promptly emitted a double click, so they waited, both Jack and Daniel moving into positions that would block as much of Dixon as possible from view of anyone who might open the cellblock door.

A couple of minutes passed before Carter hailed them and they were able to share status reports. They were three out of four on-site, Balinsky's present location unknown, and, in response to her pointed enquiry, yes, Dixon assured her, when the time came Daniel would be good to go despite how dreadful she felt he'd sounded over his radio. Jack knew the state of Daniel's willingness might be another matter, but he kept that thought to himself. Daniel knew the score – it wasn't Carter's or Dixon's or anyone other than Daniel's own responsibility to ensure his reluctance wouldn't interfere with whatever had to go down. And it was Jack's job, and no one else's, to ensure Daniel lived up to that responsibility.

Jack nodded with satisfaction as Carter advised that the hapless native they'd encountered outside was presently asleep while on duty. Bosworth and Wells, concealed nearby, were ready to ensure he stayed that way for however long was needed. They were also prepared, at a moment's notice, to punch through the outer wall of the cellblock should that become necessary. She was a single word into some additional information when their handy-dandy warning system activated: a squeak-squeal announced they were about to have company. Dixon hurriedly turned the volume down on the radio, then, apparently re-thinking that, depressed the push-to-talk and held it on transmit.

Balinsky, laden with a large bundle, was framed in wavering light from behind as he was escorted to in front of Jack's cell. In his wake, two of the guards carried lit oil lanterns down the aisle. One of them hung his lantern high on the upper crossbar of the opposite cell, just across the aisle from Jack, while the other moved further along to do the same opposite Dixon's cell. In the flickering light, Jack recognised Balinsky's load as being their SGC-issue jackets, with four water bottles precariously perched on top.

Jack hastily moved back when he realised the guard with Balinsky was happy to let the man stand there with his arms full, for however long Jack remained even remotely within reach of the front of the cell. Staying alongside the bars between the two cells, he retreated to the back wall and stayed put until after Balinsky was let in and the cell door re-locked behind him.

"You okay, Balinsky?" he asked loudly, hopeful that Carter wasn't still transmitting at her end. "Light, water, jackets: good job." The outer door closed behind the guards, and Jack nodded toward Dixon, who flashed Balinsky a quick view of the radio.

They both moved toward Dixon and Daniel, Jack making sure he and Balinsky were properly arranged. Now that there was illumination, however dim, they'd have to be even more careful to block view of Dixon from the outer door, even despite rusty hinges. The jackets and water were handed out as Balinsky and Daniel shared enquiries as to one another's health, then, with the radio still transmitting, Dixon asked Balinsky to report.

"There's another problem, in addition to our being detained," Balinsky grimly told them. "I was Exhibit A in a council meeting of sorts. Eighteen men in total, not including me, most of whom are genuinely worried, to varying degrees, about the safety of their families. Four of them appear to hold exceptional influence." He sounded angry as he elaborated, "Two of those four are powerful manipulators. I'm pretty sure they're behind the existence of that fear. They're certainly doing all they can to heighten it; they appear to want to take advantage of it to increase their own personal power and prestige. That's probably the main reason why we're still here." He waved a hand to indicate the cells.

"Personal power?" Daniel asked him. "Over what? You mean, control of the Stargate?"

"Yes and no. Apparently a couple of curious townsfolk saw SG-1 come through. Despite us having already explained where we came from, they don't understand what they saw, and their descriptions of SG-1 literally materialising out of the blue have most people batshit scared of the Stargate." Balinsky leaned in toward Dixon, aiming his comments into the open channel. "These two men claim we're not what we say we are, that we can't be trusted. They're agitating for extreme deterrence measures and the creation of a 'defence force' – and they just might get instant approval for both if we do anything they can use as further evidence that they're right about us."

"They can plan all the extreme deterrence measures they want. Doesn't matter to me. It won't be us strung up in front of the 'gate, because we're about to get out of here." Jack gestured toward the radio.

"They have our gear," Daniel hastily interjected. "They're talking about messing with the weaponry?"

Balinsky nodded. "As we speak."

Daniel turned to Jack, looking horrified. "We can't leave zats and guns, and oh crap, grenades and C4, in the hands of people wanting to experiment with them – someone's accidentally going to get hurt, maybe killed." Balinsky vigorously nodded in agreement.

Dixon boggled at them both. "Let me get this straight: you expect us to recover gear they want to keep for themselves, most likely while on our way out the door without permission, without doing anything they just might consider uncooperative or untrustworthy? Just how do you suggest we do that?"

"Talk to them," Daniel insisted. "Convince them we're benign and they shouldn't be afraid to release us. Barring that, make sure they understand we don't want to hurt anyone, that all we want to do is leave."

That response was no surprise to Jack, and, considering who it'd been asked of, probably shouldn't have been to Dixon either by now. Balinsky did surprise him, though, by promptly disagreeing with Daniel. "I think it's past that, Daniel," he advised. "I tried but was shouted down by a very vocal minority. It's probably impossible to reach the rest of them – they aren't being allowed to hear what we have to say. There's some pretty powerful fear mongering going on."

"What channel's that on?" Jack asked as he gestured for the comm. Dixon checked and told him before handing it over, and Jack promptly changed its setting to their previous one. Daniel's radio was still transmitting – they immediately heard noises that might be people and objects moving around, then two native-accented male voices.

"Any chance you could find your way back there?" Jack asked Daniel, aware of just how sick he must have been when he'd been taken to their gear.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Daniel frowned and closed his eyes in thought. "It wasn't very far from where they had me bedded down – a left then a right, I think? So, yeah, maybe, as long as we headed out from the same starting point."

"Which was, where exactly?" Dixon prodded, getting a pained look in response. The short grilling that ensued made it clear Daniel would need some time, and no doubt copious amounts of Tylenol and anti-emetics, to try to align his hazy recollections with the possible relative locations of the three buildings he'd been shunted between. And all Dixon, Balinsky, and Jack himself knew of their own path through the town was that it'd been a long, blindfolded walk from the ruins. Great, isn't this all going so well, Jack thought, as he changed the radio's channel back again and hailed Carter.

It sounded like she was on the move when she answered. "Copied all that, Colonel," she advised. "Wells is monitoring Daniel's comm; he overheard their intentions just after Balinsky returned. It sounds like two or more men are with the equipment right now. What do you advise?"

Pale and sweaty, his headache obviously spiking again, Daniel sagged down to measure his length in the straw and Jack found himself snapping into the radio, "What I advise is that you get us the hell out of here, Carter."

There was a short delay before she came back in a measured tone, unfazed by his momentary fit of impatience. "Sixteen men have exited your location. Fourteen appear to be headed out of the town centre; I've followed the other two to another building. Wells reports now hearing two additional people in with our gear, Sir."

So that answered the question as to the location of their equipment. "Two left that we know of, plus our three friends," Dixon observed, and Jack nodded. Doable for their four teammates, provided there wasn't a small army hidden elsewhere in the building. Being locked in cages was a frustration; they couldn't be of any help at all if anything went south. Their other option was Wells and Bosworth punching through the outer wall – it would give them a direct route to outside, but it'd be noisy and they'd have to open holes into both cells.

Jack's thoughts were interrupted by Teal'c. "O'Neill. The two men of which Dr. Balinsky spoke," his voice rumbled over the comm. "Should they be available, might you wish to speak with them?"

What? Jack depressed the send key and Daniel immediately let out an emphatic yes from below. "That's a big negative," Jack overruled. Concerned that the question had even been asked, he then demanded, "Teal'c, please advise as to your status."

Jack stared at the radio in rising suspicion as Carter repeated his request, only for both of them to be told to please wait. The answer came a few moments later, however, via a shout and a series of thumps on the other side of the cellblock door. It opened and Teal'c stalked through into the cellblock, magnificently dragging two of their guards in with him. Both with their hands secured behind their backs, they appeared to be more off-balance and stiff-legged from fright than actively resistant. One of them began to protest but abruptly shut up when Teal'c asked him, "Are you not glad to still be capable of complaint?"

Jack, Dixon, and Balinsky stood clustered at the front inside corners of their cells, bemusedly watching as Teal'c pushed the two guards face up against the bars of the cell across the aisle, opposite Dixon's. As Jack hastily let Carter know where Teal'c was and just what he was up to, a scraping noise heralded the entrance of Bosworth, shuffling backwards as he dragged an unconscious third native into the cellblock.

Belatedly joined by Daniel, they all waited – none too patiently in Jack's case – as Teal'c and Bosworth locked the two upright men in the cell, then deposited the third well out of their reach, in the front corner of the cell opposite Jack's. Jack raised an eyebrow as Teal'c let him and Balinsky out. "They are most impressed by the zat," Teal'c answered the unspoken question. So that accounted for the bugged-out eyes of the two conscious guards, and the state of the third man.

Gazing around at the walls and ceiling, the barred cages, and into Jack's cell, Teal'c handed the iron key over to Jack and turned to glare disapprovingly at the unhappy men in the far cell. Jack released Dixon and hauled Daniel over to stand in the aisle under one of the lanterns, for the first time taking a good look at the back of his head. The large lump was expected, but he was startled to find the split in his scalp crudely stitched almost, but not quite, closed with two short bits of bloodied something-or-other.

"Ow," Daniel complained as Jack touched a protruding bit. "Leave it be. It's sinew of some kind, probably tendon." He pulled away from Jack and sidled past, his gaze intent on the unconscious guard.

"Ack! From what?" Jack couldn't help but exclaim, appalled at the thought of all the germs and ... ew, dead animal matter ... that had been pulled through the wound. Not good.

Knowing they could be discovered at any moment, he put aside angry thoughts of infection and the probable lack of local anaesthetics, and hastily followed Daniel. Teal'c ushered them all out the cellblock door, and Jack found himself in a square, dirty room piled with bales of straw. On the side wall, a doorway without an actual door led them into a short corridor lit by two oil lamps suspended on chains from the ceiling. Dixon's floor plan came to mind, and Jack was fully prepared to turn right at the T junction up the hall, as all that lay to the left was the room in which Dixon had whiled away several hours.

Teal'c went left. "Dr. Balinsky, please come with me," he instructed, and pointing to the right told the rest of them, "The exit is through a meeting area, in that direction. Dr. Balinsky and I will join you in the meeting room shortly."

Dixon frowned but nodded permission to his fourth all the same. As Balinsky pushed past the rest of them in the narrow corridor, Jack returned Bosworth's radio to the man then trailed along behind Balinsky, invited or not. He was aware of Dixon coaxing, then ordering, Daniel into following Bosworth toward the door on the right, and casually shot a, "Daniel, behave," over his shoulder. What might lay ahead was far more interesting than behind.

His attention to business sharpened as Teal'c drew and armed his zat as he opened the door to their destination. Peering through the gap between Teal'c and Balinsky, Jack wasn't all that surprised to see, in the uneven light from yet another lantern, two men lying on the floor of the small room. Jack sighed to himself; Teal'c, Teal'c, Teal'c – they were definitely due for a serious chat when this was all over with. Both men were bound hand and foot, their mouths taped, and at the sight of Teal'c they both near panicked and tried to wiggle their way through the wall at their backs.

Balinsky looked alarmed by what he was seeing. "What the –? Yes, that's them, the two I told you about. Silman," he indicated one of the men, then pointed to the other. "And Rostran." He reached out quickly as Teal'c and Jack both stepped forward into the room. "Wait. Don't hurt them."

"Would you like them to come with us, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, and yeah, that was an interesting idea provided the two could be managed without slowing down their progress. It could be helpful, at the very least probably discouraging the sort of reckless impulsivity that had put Daniel down.

Balinsky recovered from his surprise quickly, sounding a lot less spooked and a lot more critical as he pointed out, "Surely eight of us can manage to leave without anyone being further traumatised, Colonel. Plus you'd be playing right into their hands."

"And I won't willingly participate in consigning the rest of these people to a life of fear and paranoia."

Daniel. Oh for crap's sake. Jack turned and shot Dixon a glare, to which the man simply complained, "He doesn't always follow orders very well, does he?"

"If you're referring to Teal'c, apparently not," came a voice from behind, then Carter stalked her way past all of them. Swatting Teal'c on the arm, in measure of her annoyance with him, she demanded, "What on earth do you think you're doing, Teal'c?"

"O'Neill clearly stated his priority." Teal'c was entirely unrepentant. "An opportunity arose; I took it."

"You've just put a lit match to a gas leak, is what you've done, Teal'c," Daniel contended, quickly adding, "And don't give me any crap about speaking metaphorically. You understand exactly what that means."

"Balinsky, out," Dixon quietly ordered.

"An entire way of life is at risk here – don't you get that? You may have meant well, Teal'c, but this ..."

Jack stepped into the space vacated by Balinsky, where he could see Daniel better. "We'll get the guns, Daniel. It'll be fine." Which reminded him to ask, "Seeing as you're here now, who's minding that shop, Carter?"

"Isn't anyone listening? It's gone past that now. Recovering our gear won't fix this."

Carter gestured toward the direction of the cellblock. "Wells repositioned; he has direct line of sight to both that building and the rear of this one. The town centre is fairly sparse, Sir."

"Dr. Balinsky contends these men are the source of the problem, Daniel Jackson. What better way to ensure these people need not live a life of fear, than to remove their malign influence."

Jack stepped in. "Daniel, Teal'c. Let it go," he ordered, then requested more information from Carter via a roll of his hand.

"Wells is continuing to monitor Daniel's channel. And with eyes on the only entrance, we should –"

"What? By trussing them up? Or worse? Teal'c, attacking –"

"– know right away if anyone else shows up, or if –"

"– community leaders just reinforces that fear."

"– anyone intends to leave the building."

Geez, Jack thought irately; what was he, chopped liver? "Daniel, I said that's enough." Daniel sullenly shied away from his stare after a few seconds, and Jack looked past him to see Dixon still in the corridor. "We have eyes out front?"

"There is no "or worse" intended, Daniel Jackson. I speak only of discrediting them." Oh, now Teal'c was affronted too. Wonderful. Jack warned him again – enough is enough – with a sharp slash of his hand.

"Yes, Sir. Bosworth." Carter looked over her shoulder, down the hall. "And ... Balinsky?"

"Yep," Dixon nodded, lazily adding, "They follow orders."

Teal'c abruptly moved from the doorway. "Perhaps you should sit down, Daniel Jackson."

Carter's voice overlapped with his own as Jack's head cranked around. "Daniel?" He stepped around Teal'c just in time to see Daniel do just that, plopping down hard onto his butt on the floor at the end of a uncoordinated stagger.

"I was referring to in the meeting room," Teal'c muttered, earning himself an irritated glance from Carter as they both moved toward Daniel. Yes, excellent, Jack thought. A perfect addition to the last five minutes. So nice to see his entire team functioning at their best here.

Wells' voice burped out of the comms. Two of the men he was monitoring were apparently the night relief for the three cell guards. They were readying to head over there, he warned. Dixon quickly told Wells to stay put, turning to Jack with a half-smile. "That's convenient. Easier to deal with two sets of two, than one group of four."

It proved easier than easy, in fact. The three in the cellblock readily kept silent in the face of the business end of a zat, while their two-man relief confidently moved through the empty meeting room and down the now-deserted corridor. They walked straight into Jack, Dixon, and Teal'c's hands, and were locked up in Jack's old cell not two minutes after entering the building.

The one hitch was that these two new not-guards were, unfortunately, not nearly as compliant as the others. Shouting and shrieking for help, they were noisy enough to wake the dead. Interestingly, it was the guard who'd been zatted earlier, now wide awake, who was most in favour of Teal'c carrying out the threat to zat the two into silence.

Once that proved inescapable and was done, the native man nervously told them, "We wish you to leave." The other two original guards nodded vigorously in agreement. "Please, do not hurt anyone. Just take your people and leave this night. The way is to your circle-home is free. All we have wished is that you leave, and not return."

"That's all we want too," Jack told them, then had to pause to listen as Bosworth came through on Teal'c's radio. He shared a satisfied look with Dixon, both of them pleased to hear that the rest of SG-13 had just secured the shed containing their gear.

Reminded of Daniel's concerns, he turned back to the natives. "We came here looking to be friends, not enemies. Tell your people that. Tell them they shouldn't be afraid."

"You ...you do not wish a revenge?" The native bunched up both fists and swung them through the air, then gestured toward him and Teal'c. "It is only a nature?"

Dixon snorted. "It's that lunatic thing you've got going on, Jack. Very convincing."

Jack sneered faintly at Dixon. "No, neither of us want to hurt any of you," he assured the guard. "We just want to go home."

Somewhat emboldened, the man shakily asked,"Your other, the injured one? He remains?"

Remains? As in ...? Dixon, more familiar with the natives than Jack, understood the question right away. "Yes, he's still in the building. Why?"

Visibly gathering all his courage, the ex-guard moved to the front of the cell. "I am Timean. I would see him," he did his best to assert, then faltered, "... if it be his wish as well?"

"Teal'c." Out of respect more for Daniel's peace of mind – not to mention Jack's own future peace and quiet – than to the native's request, Jack sent Teal'c off to liberate Daniel and Carter from the room they'd ducked into, to clear the hallway. "One minute only. We really do have to get going," he told the native, who clearly had no idea what a minute was. But that was what context was for, wasn't it.

Daniel wobbled into the room, Teal'c and Carter hand's-on to either side of him in unknowing repetition of the first time Daniel had been escorted through the cellblock door. Hopefully to be minus the burlesque this time, but Jack wasn't going to entirely rule out that possibility, considering the way things had been going. If what he now suspected about their guards was on target, and he was pretty sure it was, 'farcical' was an apt descriptor for the situation.

Daniel's expression, already tight with discomfort, contracted further at the sight of the two unconscious men in the near cell. Jack ushered Teal'c and Carter away, and with his hands on Daniel's shoulders gently turned him to face the other direction.

Timean abruptly straightened, drawing Daniel's attention. "I am Timean," he again introduced himself. "No matter he says not, it was my father that injured you." He indicated his friends, and even the two lying across the aisle. "Many know it was Rostran did the wrong, even that we cannot counter him. I am sorry."

Rostran. One of the two in the room up the hall. Jack's hands involuntarily tightened on Daniel's shoulders at the realisation the attack on Daniel – the instigation of this whole mess – had very likely been deliberate, rather than an accident borne of fear and impulsivity. He'd been wrong: farcical was not the right word. It wasn't nearly strong nor negative enough to describe what had happened here. Unforgivably criminal, immediately sprang to mind.

Behind him, Carter checked in with Bosworth, and apparently all was clear there. Jack halfway wished it wouldn't stay equally as quiet the entire way to the Stargate, because he wanted nothing more right then than to find some ass to kick before he left this planet. And dollars to doughnuts Daniel wouldn't let it be a restrained non-combatant's ass, no matter that Rostran deserved it.

Daniel stared at Timean for a long, drawn-out moment. "Oh my god," he eventually groaned, lifting a hand to his head. "Now I really, really have a headache. So, you ..." He waved the same hand around in a haphazard circle Jack knew was meant to encompass more than just the people in this room. "Some of you, however many of you, already knew – you've understood all along – we aren't a threat to you ... "

Jack waited for it. A probable concussion would slow anyone's processing speed, but he knew Daniel would get there nonetheless. "You, you ... you couldn't counter your father, you said," Daniel slowly reasoned it out. The light bulb suddenly went on, and he blurted, "Oh. You couldn't do anything about it publicly, but – you were going to let us go, let us escape. You were, right?"

"Yes. At full dark," one of the other two answered. "But your big man, he came."

"Okay, well, so how about now," Jack burst out, rubbing his hands together. "Where do you want us to leave the key? Here, I'll put it right over here." He took it out of his pocket and tossed it through the doorway into the hay storage cum guardroom. He tried hard not to, but in the end he couldn't help but get snarky. "Thanks for everything you didn't do for us. It's been interesting, but we have to go now."

Dixon readily headed for the door, Teal'c on his heels. Carter reached out for Daniel, but he balked at her attempt to steer him out of the room. "Wait, wait," he held back. "Just a second ..."

"We have to go while the streets are quiet and our equipment is secure," Carter urged. "Someone, or a patrol, could come by at any time."

Still, he tried to pull away from her, so Jack lent a hand in turning him in the right direction. "Jack, just a second!" At the vehemence, Jack relented slightly, because dragging a both apoplectic and concussed man all the way to 'gate wasn't anywhere on his bucket list. But if whatever was so important proved otherwise, or took too long to spit out, Jack was prepared to bodily remove Daniel if need be.

"Timean, listen," Daniel twisted around to say over his shoulder. "I know you can't go against your father ... but, tell everyone, they still don't have to fear. There's a way: you can bury the circle, and no one can ever come through again. It's difficult to do, but you –"

"Up-end it," Jack interrupted, because that was a great idea but if he left the details to Daniel they'd be here all night. "Dig a big deep ditch all around the platform to weaken it. Use chains to pull the circle over, flat onto the ground, and completely fill it with rocks. Lots of really big rocks."

"Yeah. Lots and lots of rocks ..." Daniel murmured as Jack and Carter guided him out of the cellblock. He lost his legs maneuvering around the bales of hay, but found them again in the corridor and managed to keep them as they moved through the meeting room and out into the night. Carter and Dixon split off to join SG-13 in recovering their equipment, while Teal'c guided Jack and a vertiginous Daniel through the town.

They needed to stop a few times for Daniel to pick his head back up from the ground, so Carter, Dixon, and the rest of SG-13 were already there, waiting for them, when they passed through the town's outskirts and onto the yellow-grassed flatlands leading to the ruins and the Stargate. The rest was even easier than easier than easy. A three-quarter moon in a clear sky lit their path, and, as Timean had said, the way was clear. No one and nothing, bar a few small rodents scurrying around in the field, interrupted their walk.

If not for the times they had to pause to check Daniel's wound, or allow him to rest or untangle his legs or retch into the bushes, they might have just been taking a nice night-time stroll rather than escaping forced captivity.

"Oh, I forgot to ask," Carter mentioned as the Stargate finally came into view, "What did you guys think of the accommodations? I only spent a few minutes in there, but it didn't look too bad."

"That's because you only spent a few minutes in there, Carter."

"We've seen worse." Daniel shrugged and promptly staggered into Teal'c.

Teal'c gently righted his unsteady friend. "You had illumination, water, and soft bedding, O'Neill."

"Dirty straw is hardly soft bedding," Jack complained.

"And our clothes," Daniel shakily breathed a reminder. "We had clothing."

"Okay, yeah, there is that," Jack allowed, fielding an appalled, disbelieving look from Dixon who walked just behind them.

"Well, for that alone I'd give it at least a six, Sir."

Teal'c vigilantly shouldered Daniel back into walking a semi-straight line again. "I concur."

Jack couldn't believe his ears. "Six? We had an open trough for a toilet, for crying out loud. I'm so constipated it's gonna take a week to get back to normal."

Both Teal'c and Jack cautiously reached out, just in case, as Daniel snorted a laugh then immediately gagged. He gamely struggled on, though, just as Jack knew he would.

"Now that's got to be an exaggeration, Sir. It was only one day."

"Yeah, well, it was a really long day," Jack griped. "I give a three, max ... but then again, apparently I'm a lunatic, so what do I know."

Picking up his pace, Dixon moved past SG-1. "You're all lunatics." Once he was a short distance ahead, he turned and walked backward a few paces. "Really, though, I think it was great. Can't wait to do it again," he drawled, an easy smile on his face. "Thanks for the fun, Jack, Dr. Jackson." Then he was off, striding along to catch up with his own team.

"And you think we're the lunatics?" Jack shouted after him, then shrugged. Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, he was still going with a three.

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G is for Garbage
by goddess47

Jack waited semi-patiently as Daniel did his "thing."

SG-1 was on yet another green world, with another abandoned, half-ruined village, and an intermittent, mysterious energy signal. Again.

There had been people here, once. Jack idly wondered where they might have gone.

Teal'c walked sentry on the edge of the ruins, scanning for potential threats.

Jack split his attention between Daniel and the surrounding area. Fortunately, the village was in a relatively open area, so it would be harder for something to approach them unseen. But not impossible. And the woods weren't that far away. Hence, security was still high.

Daniel stood in the ruins, gently moving greenery to examine the hidden structures. As he moved into the village, Jack moved also, so that he was between Teal'c and Daniel.

As part of the same dance, Sam moved from the edge of the ruins, closer to where Jack was positioned. No one moved out of line of sight on an unfamiliar world.

"Why are we here again?" Jack asked plaintively.

"Rumors of source of great energy," Sam replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We've heard that one before," Jack groused.

"You slept through the briefing again, didn't you?" Sam teased.

Jack hadn't, but the teasing was familiar.

"Teal'c? Anything?" Jack called.

"I have not seen anything suspect," Teal'c reported. "There is evidence of larger animals, but nothing recent."

"Good," Jack said. He moved closed to Daniel. "How's it coming?"

"Okay," Daniel replied absently. He moved off in a new direction.

"Danny! Pay attention!" Jack said sharply.

Daniel looked up. "Going this way!" He pointed to the edge of the village.

"Teal'c! This way!" Jack called.

Teal'c nodded and followed along. Sam looked thoughtful, and moved also.

"Ha!" Daniel exclaimed, focusing on something only he could see. "Jack, this way."

"Daniel!" Jack called warningly. "Wait for us. And... careful!"

Daniel slowed his rush. "No one's been here for a long time," he said.

"Doesn't mean it's not dangerous," Jack replied. "I'd like to get back for the Simpson's tonight. In one piece."

Daniel stopped for a moment, looking around. "Over there," he pointed. "Near the edge of the field."

"Teal'c? Sam? Anything?" Jack called.

"Clear!" Sam called.

"It is clear, O'Neill," Teal'c confirmed.

"Okay, Danny, go for it," Jack said.

Daniel moved carefully from the edge of the ruins toward the tree line. He stopped well before the trees. He leaned over and moved some brush.

"Found it!" Daniel called.

Jack sighed. "Found what? Details!" Jack replied, moving closer so he could see what Daniel had found.

"The midden," Daniel replied gleefully.

Jack knew that one. "Daniel! The garbage dump? Really! Again?"

"It will tell us if the people that lived here had any technology," Daniel said patiently.

Jack sighed. "This is going to take forever!" Garbage dumps were almost worse than temples.

"We can do a preliminary scan, take some samples and then decide if it's worth anything more extensive," Sam suggested.

"And we can go home on time?" Jack asked, looking between the two scientists.

"How long do we have?" Daniel asked.

Jack looked his watch. "Three hours?" Their mission was relatively flexible but they definitely did not plan to stay overnight. Daniel knew their time was finite.

"That's not enough time!" Daniel protested.

"Danny! The Simpsons are on tonight!" Jack countered.

"Jack! I need more time!" Daniel repeated.

"Four hours?" Jack offered.

Daniel grinned. "I can work with that, thanks!"

"Teal'c! We're here for a bit," Jack let him know. "Carter? You going to play in the garbage dump with Daniel?"

"It'll go faster if I do," she agreed. "And think I can do some work on identifying that energy source from here."

"Okay, the two of you don't get out of each other's sight. Teal'c and I will walk perimeter," Jack ordered. "Stay alert."

"Got it!" Sam answered.

Daniel nodded absently, focusing on something in front of him.

Jack and Teal'c fell into a variable pattern they had used before. They walked an irregular perimeter, changing direction at hopefully unpredictable -- but long practiced-- intervals.

Two hours in, Jack let Teal'c range further, moving toward Daniel and Sam. "How's it coming?"

Daniel looked up. "Jack! This is amazing! I've found..."

Jack held up a hand. "That energy source?"

Daniel looked around. "No. But there is..."

"Daniel! Am I really going to care?" Jack demanded.

Daniel looked down at the... blobby thing in his hands. "No?"

"Save it for the report, then," Jack said. "Two hours."

"I have the energy source," Sam offered. At Jack's over look of interest, she shrugged. "It's looking like it's geo-thermal. Good for local use, but nothing portable."

"Damn," Jack swore. "Okay, Daniel. Two hours."

"Jack!"

"Daniel."

Daniel grinned at that point. "Okay. Got it!"

Jack went back to his patrol, taking a short break at one point and making sure Teal'c got one.

"Okay, fifteen minute warning," Jack called a warning. "Finish up so we can go home."

Daniel packed up some things into his backpack, and it only took him half an hour to decide he was ready to go.

"Sweet. Looks like I'll make it home on time, for a change," Jack grinned.

feedback

< a href= "http://thothmes.dreamwidth.org/22535.html#cutid1"> H is for Helping Hands
by thothmes

Some days, SG-1 found, were just like that. Monday the M.A.L.P. had gone through without incident, and the readings had come back all fine and dandy, and fit for humans to go through. On Tuesday, the U.A.V. had gone through and sent back some lovely pictures of a small village surrounded by many ruins, and Daniel was in kid-at-Christmas mode. By the time they briefed General Hammond, got the okay for the mission, and went through the gate it was Wednesday, and Wednesday turned out to be one of those days.

They all stepped through from Earth four abreast and emerged into the stone platform of the target gate and the weak sunshine of an overcast and slightly chilly day. Before even Teal'c had a chance to identify what was happening, there was an ominous creak, and without any further warning, the giant naquadah ring that was their path home toppled over, the apex of the ring crashing down on the DHD, reducing it to mangled wreckage before they could react.

"Good aim!" said Jack, not that the others heard him. Daniel was too busy letting out a scatological curse word, Sam was fumbling to let go of her firearm in its carry harness so she could root around for her meter and take energy readings. Whether Teal'c's exclamation was also scatological, no one knew, because he was startled enough to revert to his native tongue.

The meter, once Sam located it, was really pretty unnecessary. Aside from the whole question of the crumpled DHD, the gate itself was now in several chunks, and it was pretty clear that they would not be back for dinner on Thursday.

"Do you think they planned it like that?" the Colonel asked.

"To threaten faster walkers with death from above?" muttered Daniel. The suddenness of the change in their fortunes had unnerved him somewhat and sarcasm was as good a refuge as any under those circumstances.

"I do not believe anyone planned this, O'Neill," said Teal'c. "I have never heard of such an occurrence before.

"Why would the M.A.L.P. and the U.A.V. make it through fine, and we somehow destabilize the whole gate? It doesn't make sense!"

Clearly, then, Carter was less upset by the near death experience than she was by the fact that she couldn't explain it.

The Colonel shrugged.

"This too shall pass? Maybe it was its time."

He felt no great need for an explanation. The bottom line was that this was turning out to be a sucky day, and now he had no exit strategy, nor was one likely to appear soon. What mattered was not how it happened, but that it had happened.

"Let's go find that village, kids, and hope we don't outstay our welcome."

His hand gesture towards the way they would take was, as he preferred, just a little outsized.

On the way, as the overcast turned to darker, more business-like clouds, and misting drizzle shaded over into a dreary monotony of cold rain, they debated whether all, or even most, of the DHDs were situated at just the right distance to be crushed if the gate were to fall. Daniel and Teal'c found the idea intriguing, but could not see a reason for it ("Duh! To take out the DHD and make it harder to rebuild. A safeguard in a retreat!" offered Jack, forgoing gravitas in favor of making his point more forcefully.) Sam just lamented the lack of data or the opportunity to gather it.

"Relax, Carter," said her commanding officer. "Hammond knows where we are. He'll figure something out. We just need to sit tight and wait for a rescue."

Privately he was very glad that mounting the rescue was not his job. It kind of helped that whether he knew it yet or not, Hammond's Wednesday was even worse than his own. Schadenfreude. Not that he would say that in front of Daniel. Maybe ShadyFreud?

********************

The welcome committee met them at the boundaries of the village, and it was both enthusiastic, loud, and eager to announce them. Usually it was Daniel's job to start the meeting and greeting, but he really wasn't too comfortable with dogs, and there were a lot of them, and none of them were toy breeds. Jack stepped forward instead, drew himself up to his full height, looked one of them in the eye and snapped "Ahhht!" once, with feeling. The dog he had challenged settled instantly into a relaxed pose and stopped barking, and soon the others followed suit. Daniel was never sure how he did it, but there didn't seem to be a dog in this universe or any other that didn't adore Jack O'Neill.

The dogs were followed shortly by a mixed age flock of the town's children, and between Sam's gentle smile, and Jack's juvenile mugging, they soon decided that SG-1 were a Good Thing, if somewhat bedraggled, and should be escorted home to meet the folks. Had they but known, this was an enormous stroke of good fortune, because in tales passed down from ancient days, strangers were generally malevolent, but the villagers decided that these four, could not be harbingers of death and destruction. Anyone who was that bewitching to dogs and kids could not be evil, surely?

Their luck was looking up. Jack ripped the velcro cover on his watch back to check beneath it for the time. Of course it was. Back home it was starting into Thursday.

********************

The villagers turned out to be farmers, who supplemented the grains and vegetables they grew with fruits gathered from the forest, and game for extra protein. Sam's excellent marksmanship and Jack's eye for the lay of the ground and his grasp of strategy soon made them popular with the hunting parties (once the more conservative of the men got over the fact that Sam was indeed a girl. The lure of extra meat swiftly made up for that deficiency in their eyes, and soon any grumbling stopped.

Teal'c surprised them all by turning out to be a dab hand at the weaving loom, which was a bit of a scandal, given that he was undoubtedly male. If any of the villagers doubted his masculinity, they were discouraged by his bulk, and no one gave him any trouble about his strange proclivity for women's work.

When Jack had asked him where he had learned the skill, he was brief and hardly informative.

"By observation, O'Neill. I enjoy weaving. It is soothing."

Well, okay then.

Daniel became a jack of all trades, trying first one pastime, then another, learning what he could of the material culture, even as he furthered his understanding of the larger culture. He considered it unfortunate that they were, for the time being at least, stranded, and he knew that they were all only one serious infection or local contagion from being doomed without access to modern medicine, but really he considered his time on the planet to be more fun and certainly more absorbing than any of his last five vacations.

********************

A wet and cloudy spring gave way to an unusually sunny and dry summer. With the stranger's help, the store of salted dried meat was large for the time of year, and the grain was growing well. Fruits too had been dried, and stored in the cool dark cellars, and apart from the occasional weeding day, when the whole village turned out to rid the gardens of unwanted nuisance plants, the pace of village life slowed down in deference to the heat. Still, everyone was mindful of the unending round of the seasons, so one day, with no particular leadership or organization to get things rolling, the villagers began work on building SG-1 a house.

It wouldn't do to have these helpful and profitable strangers freeze to death. Except for the big one with the gold mark, they didn't eat that much, and all told they more than made up for what they consumed.

Perhaps because everyone was so wrapped up in the project, and perhaps because no good deed can go completely unpunished, the house raising almost ended in tragedy. There was no problem at the building site, but in all the commotion and bustle, one of the children, a pudgy-fingered boy of about three years old wandered off, and nobody noticed. It was hot, and people kept telling him to move away from the heavy timbers, because if they fell on him he could be hurt. He wanted to go swim, so he did.

He might have been okay, if he had not been a curious and adventurous sort. He didn't go to the placid, tepid waters of the lake where the slope into the water was gradual, and there were flat rocks the women used in doing the laundry. That was boring. He wanted to go to the cold, glacier-fed river, where that water danced and splashed, foaming white and rushing down chutes and over falls. That looked like fun.

Everyone had taken a break for lunch when one of the preteen boys, who had been detailed to watch the vegetable gardens and make sure that animals did not eat the tender crops while everyone else was busy elsewhere came running in yelling for help. He had been bored watching the quiet and empty fields, and had slipped off to the river to fish, and he had seen the younger boy go in and down a chute, but hadn't seen him come up. The parents of the little boy stood stock still, stricken with guilt, paralyzed with fear. They had failed to watch him, and now...

The rest of the able bodied population took off running to the river. Teal'c knowing that he and Jack had the longest legs, had the presence of mind to grab the boy, and holding in his arms demanded, "You will direct me to where you saw him last."

With the help of the kid they were soon there. Teal'c went to the head of the chute and began to walk down stream, while Jack crashed down through the bracken by the edge of the water, rushing to the edge of the largest waterfall. If the little boy had gone over that edge... The pool below was deep, and the froth beneath hid a rolling circular current that the boy would not be strong enough to escape.

Teal'c hunted diligently behind O'Neill, paying particular attention to the places where there were snags, and where the water was dark and deep or where the froth hid what lay beneath, and soon he was joined by the rest of the village. They found nothing.

Sam, who had caught up with them, looked up just long enough to watch Jack launch himself from the big rock by the side of the waterfall. She called for Teal'c and Daniel, and ran off into the woods, seeking the trail she knew would take them to the pool at the foot of the waterfall.

Jack dove deep, fighting the urge to gasp as he hit the frigid water, slicing through the bubbles to the deeper water, searching frantically for the flash of yellow fabric he had seen. He hadn't been able to be sure it was cloth. Maybe it was old yellowed leaves, but he needed to know. He needed to reach it! Suddenly there was a flash of something lighter, and he reached for it, just as the rolling current snatched it back and away, frantically kicking to keep himself under, ignoring the imperatives of his lungs he waited. There! He grabbed a small chubby arm. Aiming across the current he kicked for all he was worth, dragging the limp child away from the angry swirl, making for the surface.

He reached the surface at last, long moments after the point when he thought he would lose the battle with his instincts and breathe in the freezing water, just to have something, anything to fill up his lungs. He turned the boy face up and for a while he could only pant and gasp, filling his lungs with sweet, sweet air, kicking only enough to keep them both from sinking. Then, as his team made their way down to him, he wearily made his way to the edge of the pool and climbed out.

The boy was limp. Too limp. He wasn't breathing.

"Oh, God!" said Jack, as his legs gave out, and he landed hard on a mossy rock.

His team found him there, white and shivering - from cold? from reaction? - cradling the small limp body in his arms.

"Too late!" he mumbled. "Too late! Too late! Too late!"

Daniel looked on in commiseration with swimming eyes. Teal'c moved behind Jack and placed a firm, warm hand on O'Neill's shoulder, but Carter bent down to take the child from him.

He would not let go.

"Sir," she said. "He may not be dead."

The brown eyes, the only spot of color in the pale cheeks met hers, but he did not dare to hope.

"Young children have a diving reflex that shuts their breathing down. He's cold. Children this small have survived up to half an hour submerged in cold water," she told him. "Remember your first aid, sir! Nobody's dead until they are warm and dead."

He handed her the boy, and turned away. He would not, could not watch, as Sam worked to open his airway, to breathe for him. He put his fingers in his ears.

"Luh-luh-la-luh-luh-luh-laaa" he sang, almost tunelessly, so he would not hear.

There was a cry, a wail, loud enough that he could not help but hear. He closed his eyes, as the hand on his shoulder squeezed in solidarity and comfort.

"Here, sir!" came Carter's voice, and then a wiggly, noisy armful of boy was handed over to him. Living, breathing, indignant in finding himself where he was. The last time a boy crying had made him this happy, it was Charlie, fresh from the womb and pissed as all hell about it.

He didn't say a thing. He couldn't. His smile might have been a little wobbly, but his team wasn't going to call him on it. They thought it was glorious.

********************

After this, the village felt SG-1 was one of their own, and to Daniel's great joy, this meant that they agreed that some of the oldest boys could take him up into the hills to see the temples that they had not been happy showing him before then. They assured Jack and Teal'c that there was no danger of any sort in the temples. They did not need to escort the party. The only reason Daniel had been denied was an uneasiness allowing strangers into their holiest places. Daniel was no longer a stranger. If it pleased him to see the temples, they would make it possible for him to do so.

Knowing full well his archeologist's ability to find trouble and to let his curiosity get the best of him, Jack had to fight an urge, so strong that it was bucking for premonition, to escort him, but after receiving a pointed look and an almost imperceptible head nod from Teal'c, he had reluctantly signed off on the trip, and Daniel and ten young men on the cusp of adulthood set out.

Jack knew, he knew that Daniel was trained and competent, but still, as the shadows began to lengthen, he found himself wandering in the general direction of the bottom of the slope that the last of the temples on Daniel's itinerary crested. As to the P-90 in his hands? He had been thinking of doing a little hunting at dusk. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Damned if ten minutes after he got to the foot of the hill, if Daniel didn't come running out of the temple at top speed, with a boil of boys behind him. It was a scene straight out of an Indiana Jones movie, Indy running for his life, with angry natives running after. Jack slipped his safety off and aimed well over the boys' heads. He would keep Daniel safe, but he hoped he could do it without harming a single boy. Beside him he heard Teal'c's staff weapon click open and charge. Clearly he was not the only one with... concerns.

Down the slope the wild chase ran, with the boys gaining on Daniel as they went. He was shouting something, and it sounded like "Go! Shoot! Go! Shoot!" but Jack realized just as his finger was reaching for the trigger that he had it wrong.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Daniel was yelling, his voice thinned by the distance. The mad race came to a stream, but instead of leaping the banks they threw themselves, en masse, into the water.

Jack saftied his weapon, Teal'c shut down his staff, and the two men strolled over to the wet pile of bodies.

Looking down, Jack said nothing, but extended a hand to his winded friend, and helped him up.

Daniel made his way to his feet, chest heaving, supporting himself with his hands on his thighs, and looking up at his team mates, explained with as little waste of breath as possible.

"Yellow jackets!" he said.

********************

Sam had been muttering and enveloping herself in a bit of a mathematical fog as the summer began to fade away into fall. This was fairly normal behavior for his second, so Jack would have been content to ignore it if it were not for the fact that it seemed to be making Teal'c pensive too. Perhaps it was time to get to the bottom of things.

He was just making his mind to go over and ask her what was with all the math, when Teal'c beat him to the punch.

"What is the problem you seek to solve?" he said, standing over where Carter was seated on the dirt floor of their house, scribbling on a scrap of birch bark.

Daniel and Jack's attempts to be subtle about listening in were an utter failure.

"Distance calculations."

She waved the piece of birch bark about as she explained.

"I know what our distance from Earth is, but I am unsure as to the exact direction. Now based on some calculations I've done after making some observations about how Earth's constellations have been shifted by our altered view point..."

They all listened to her talk through her work for a while, knowing that sometimes it was part of the process that led to further discovery, but Jack was finally fed up with trying to follow a complicated explanation without knowing what the point of the exercise was.

"So what does that get us, Carter?"

"Well, sir, I don't have any way to ensure that my figures are very close, but I am hoping I can get us a ballpark figure for how soon the Tollan, the Tok'ra, and the Asgard might be able to reach us here, and unless they have someone on a mission in this part of the galaxy than can divert for us, the Tok'ra are going to be about four years, and the Tollan a year and a half and the Asgard could be here any..."

There was a flash of light.

"- minute now," she finished from the deck of an Asgard ship.

"You are indeed mathematically proficient, Samantha Carter!" Teal'c offered.

Jack turned around 360 degrees, and in so doing, found their rescuer, his favorite Asgard of them all.

"Thor!" he exclaimed in delight.

"I regret that I could not be here sooner, O'Neill," the frail looking alien said. "I did not get your General Hammond's message until recently. I understand you need a hand getting home."

"Yeah. We do. Thanks, buddy!" said Jack.

Sam looked around at the hands in the room. Her own feminine ones, Teal'c's broad fingered ones, Daniel's long, slender ones, The Colonel's ever-restless ones, and Thor's impossibly small, impossibly frail, near-translucent ones. Strange that Thor's always seemed to be the mightiest ones of all. They pushed the stones across the ship's console, and just like that, SG-1 were going home.

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I is for Insane Asylum: The Giant Stone Ring
by badfalcon

"I'm sorry Dr Carter," Dr Harley shook her head, dark braids falling over her shoulders and Sam's heart sank. "But that's simply not possible. My patient, your... uh... Colonel?" She stumbled over the unfamiliar title and Sam nodded. "Colonel Mitchell is a very sick man and it is imperative he remain here under my care."

"When you say sick," Daniel asked carefully, "what exactly do you mean?"

"He's suffering from acute delusions." Dr Harley pushed her glasses up against the bridge of her nose and glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. "He seems under the impression he is able to... to.... ah step through a giant stone ring and travel to another planet. Which, if you'll excuse my phrasing, that's just crazy talk," she laughed nervously. "While you were touring our scientific labs, Colonel Mitchell was witnessed telling multiple people that you had all travelled from another world this way. He was scaring them with talk of evil gods and monsters. I'm very concerned for his wellbeing."

Sam looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting, and swore under her breath at panic rising in Daniel's eyes. He was pale and she watched him take a deep, shaky, breath. She turned back to the doctor.

"Do not be concerned," Dr Harley continued. "He's receiving our best possible care."

"I'm sure he is," Sam smiled diplomatically - she hoped - and projected calm in her voice. "And I mean no disrespect to your medical standards but we are due to travel home tomorrow. Perhaps it would be better for Cameron, for Colonel Mitchell to be allowed to return with us. I will ensure he continues to receive treatment and I believe it would be better for him to recuperate in familiar surroundings."

Doctor Harley nodded and Sam felt a flare of hope in her belly. "Yes, I can understand why you would think this," she said and Sam sighed at the Doctor’s tone. She could feel the tension radiating off Daniel and looked at him but he avoided her gaze, stepping away when she nudged him. "Let me ask you this Dr Carter, Dr Jackson - if Colonel Mitchell had suffered a gunshot wound or had a broken leg, would you insist on taking him home for treatment or would he remain here until he's stable." Sam winced and screwed her nose up, but nodded. "I'm sorry, Dr Carter, but Colonel Mitchell is in no fit state to travel. Come, let me take you to him, both of you, and you can see for yourself how he is."

Sam and Daniel fell in behind Dr Harley. "She's right," Sam whispered to Daniel. "I hate to admit it, but she's right."

"Except for how he's not delusional!" Daniel hissed back.

"Well, yes," Sam agreed. "But we can't tell her that or we'll end up in here too."

Daniel nodded sharply and wrapped his arms around himself. "I know."

Sam reached out for him again. "Daniel...” She shook her head, steeling herself as they came to a stop outside the door. She inhaled deeply through her nose and squeezed Daniel's hand. Doctor Harley was speaking but Sam couldn't hear her, the words buzzing around in her ears. Straightening her shoulders, she grabbed he handle and pushed the door open. "Oh, Cameron..."

Cameron was flat on his back on a bed slightly larger than a single. He was wearing a pale blue outfit that made Sam think of hospital scrubs, and a slightly hysterical voice at the back of her head noted that at least he had pants on. There were leather restraints around his wrists and ankles, cuffing him to the bed and there was a ring of fingerprint bruises around on bicep.

"Cam?" She stepped closer, shaking her head slowly, reaching a hand out to brush through his sticking up hair. A wobbly smile tugged at her lips when Cam opened his eyes but the smile soon faded when she realised how unfocused his gaze was. Sam swore under her breath. "Cameron, can you hear me?"

He slurred her name and groaned, low and long before thrashing on the bed, fighting against the restraints, bucking and tugging, his moan sounding almost animalistic. Sam found herself taking an unconscious step back and Dr Harley rushed forward, hypodermic needle in hand, quickly injecting it into Cameron's arm. He relaxed almost instantly, slumping back down on the bed, his eyes sliding closed.

Her hands clenching into fists, Sam took a deep breath and exhaled before turning on the doctor. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could get a word out, a choked off sob came from Daniel. Sam turned to look at him and her heart sank at the expression of panic and misery on his pale face. "Daniel?" But Daniel just shook his head, turned on his heel and ran, the sound of doors slamming following in his wake. A bubble of humourless laughter escaped Sam; so much for a nice simple recon. She turned back to the doctor, her shoulders set and her jaw hard. "What the hell have you given him?"

"Nothing more than a mild sedative," Dr Harley replied calmly. "He's a very violent man, a danger to both himself and everyone else here. Until the medication we're giving him starts to have an effect on his behaviour, I have no choice but to keep him sedated."

"And did it ever occur to you that it's the drugs you're giving him that are making him violent?" Sam snapped. She ran a hand through her hair. What on Earth was the doctor thinking, giving him medication that she had no idea how he might react to. Part of her wanted to scream and rail but she didn't have time, she had to... to... she needed to see if Cameron was OK, she needed to find Daniel, she had to... Shaking her head, she turned her back on the doctor and moved back to Cameron. She checked his pulse with two fingers, relieved to find it regular, if a little sluggish. Cameron stirred under her hand, dazed eyes blinking open. "Hey," Sam smiled and squeezed his hand gently. "I'm gonna get you out of here," she promised. "But first I have to go check on Daniel, and get Vala and Teal'c. I'll be back as soon as I can." She squeezed his hand again and reluctantly turned and walked out of the room.

She found Daniel just outside the building, sitting on a patch of grass in the sun though she doubted he even knew where he was. He was huddled in on himself, knees drawn to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs, gaze fixed on the horizon. Easing herself to the ground next to him she placed a reassuring hand on his back, frowning when she realised he was trembling. "Easy, Daniel," she murmured but there was no reply. She found herself wishing General O'Neill was there as she radioed Teal'c and Vala. "Get back to the courtyard outside the administration building as quickly as you can," she told them. "We have a... situation." She clicked the radio off when Teal'c replied in the affirmative and turned her attention back to Daniel.

"I'm sorry." Daniel spoke haltingly, still trembling and not looking at her. "Sam, I..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I couldn't... Cam... truth... I remember... Ma'chello and... I know..."

Sam nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. "I know. Daniel, I know. And I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. But we're not... I'm not gonna make the same mistake again. We're gonna get Cam out of there."

Daniel turned his head to the side and looked at Sam. "You should..." he gestured to the building behind them.”In there. With him."

"And leave you out here on your own? When you're having flashbacks to... to... Not gonna happen, Daniel." She ran her hand up and down his back, relief crashing through her when she felt him starting to relax. "I can't do anything for Cam right now, but I have a plan. We just need to wait for Teal'c and Vala to get here and we’ll get him out. We're not leaving him behind."

"Well here I am!" Vala dropped down onto the ground in front of Sam and Daniel. Her brow creased when she looked between them, frown deepening the longer she looked at Daniel. "Daniel?" She reached out for him and he jerked back, pulling away from her. He rose unsteadily to his feet and walked across the courtyard, arms wrapped around himself. "What's wrong, Daniel?" Vala asked. She stood but before she could take a step towards Daniel, Sam placed a hand on her arm.

"Leave him be, Vala. It's a long story," Sam continued when Vala started to protest. "This isn't the time or place, and it's not up to me to tell you about it. Daniel will be fine. Right now, we have a bigger problem and I need your help."

"You mentioned a situation, ColonelCarter?"

"Yeah." Sam stood up and brushed her hands off on her thighs. Nodding, she quickly brought Teal'c and Vala up to speed with .

"Huh." Vala bit her thumbnail. "And you want me to break Cameron out of there?"

"Do you think you can?"

"Of course. I'll be back in 10 minutes!" Vala grinned and skipped towards the hospital.

"Do you believe ValaMalDoran will be able to free ColonelMitchell?" Teal'c asked.

Sam bit her lip. "I hope so. If she doesn't... we can't leave him here, we can't leave him behind." She looked over at Daniel and shivered. "Not again."

Teal'c inclined his head. "DanielJackson is remembering his own time in such an institution."

"And I have no idea what to say to him. We left him there, Teal'c. We can't, we won't leave Cam." She shook herself and looked down at her watch, then back at the hospital doors. Indecision raced through her and she started pacing, coming to a stop at the edge of the fountain. She leaned forward on the thigh-high wall, bracing her hands on the cool stone and stared into the falling water. Straightening back up, she turned to find Daniel and Teal'c watching her curiously. She flashed them what she hope was a reassuring smile. "Teal'c, Daniel... get back to the 'gate and be ready to dial us home. I'm going to wait here for Vala and Cameron."

Daniel squeezed Sam's hand as he walked past, giving her a weak smile. "Cam'll be ok," he said softly and she returned the smile before sitting down on the edge of the wall. She looked down at her watch again then back to the door, jumping to her feet when she saw Vala, in a white coat, pushing a wheelchair coming towards her. At speed. With doctors pursuing her. Sam cursed under her breath and reached for the zat in its holster. She radioed Daniel, telling him to dial and to expect company

"Now might be a really good time to start running to the 'gate!" Vala called, pigtails flying out behind her. They raced to the Stargate, Vala and Cameron ahead of Sam through the wormhole followed by Teal'c and Daniel. Sam took one last look over her shoulder as she stepped through, half-wishing she could see the look on the doctor's face as she disappeared through the giant stone ring.

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J is for Justice: What He Does
by svana_vrika

The Goa’uld had no word for justice. It was not a principle in which they believed- at least, not in the way the Tau’ri did. For the Goa’uld, justice more closely resembled the Tau’ri idea of vengeance, and even that would be a bit of a stretch. The people of Earth- with what Teal’c felt was a small exception given the population of the planet- usually had a valid reason that drove their desire for revenge. Motive wasn’t a necessity for the Goa’uld. It was true that they would torment, torture and kill for any range of slights, perceived or otherwise. But they would simply out of boredom, too. Because, as gods, it was their right. If asked, that would be the reason given as to why they perceived that as justice- before they killed you in the name of it for daring to have asked in the first place.

Teal’c wasn’t naïve. He knew that the Tau’ri weren’t perfect. That some of them could be as twisted, as arrogant and as unjust as any Goa’uld. He also knew that justice was granted for reasons beyond the ideal at its purest form. He was a prime example. By rights, he should have been locked away as a war criminal at the very least, let alone for any darker designs that crept through the minds of men like Maybourne. But instead, he’d been granted freedom (in a manner of speaking!) and the opportunity to work with the Stargate program and O’neill. To show gratitude and leniency for helping SG-1, was what he’d been told, but Teal’c understood the expectation of full cooperation and disclosure that lay beneath the gracious veneer. That said, Teal’c did know that justice in its truest form existed. In Daniel Jackson.

Guilt was not a foreign emotion to Teal’c. It didn’t matter that everything he’d done under Ra’s services as soldier and First Prime had been his sworn duty. He could still recall in vivid clarity the faces of the first group of people he’d culled on behalf of Apophis. Teal’c knew that, if he was to permit himself, he would still be able to hear their pleas for mercy, for help, hear the children begging for their mothers. If he was to permit his guilt to lead him deeply enough within, he would recall every face and cry. The only thing he didn’t know with certainty was which would be the one that would sweep him away: the memory of Sha’re, the wife of Daniel Jackson, or the recollection of Daniel Jackson himself- the sheer desperation with which he’d pled to be told that something of the host remained, the way the guilt in his eyes would shift to a near-wild hope whenever they’d get ready to step through the gate… Teal’c’s lips formed a thin line as he drove his pickaxe more firmly into the rock this time. It would be Daniel Jackson who would give him that final nudge, he decided, if he were to let it. Because- though he knew it wasn’t deliberate- Daniel Jackson was a living, breathing reminder to him every day. And the man’s high principle made him feel even more culpability for his previous deeds. Especially when Teal’c considered Daniel Jackson’s unwarranted shows of justice toward him.

Twice now, Daniel Jackson had taken a direct hand in saving him. The man whose wife he had kidnapped from their home and had stolen away to another planet, whose wife he’d handpicked for Apophis and had let be taken by the goa’uld Amaunet had worked to free him from imprisonment- an ironic twist of fate given the prisoner Sha’re had become at his own hand. Daniel Jackson had defended him when he’d been jailed and put to trial on Cartago; had called him his friend and had earnestly defended him during the Cor-ai. But the instance that had truly moved him had been the first, on Cimmeria, when Daniel Jackson had used the same weapon Teal’c had turned upon Sha’re and her people to free him- by destroying the device that could have removed the goa’uld Amaunet from his wife.

“Frigging… stupid… Gah!” Teal’c glanced to his left when the growl interrupted the muttering he’d been vaguely aware of behind his thoughts. “Damn it, Daniel,” came more lowly from O’Neill next, the man’s brow furrowing and the angry light briefly fading from the tired, brown eyes. He was still for a moment and then, with a grunt, he drove his shovel into the fragmented rock again. “Bastard. Gonna kill him myself…” O’Neill began his grumbled litany once more as his ire renewed and Teal’c attention returned to his own work. He was glad for the anger that drove his friend. Better that than succumbing to exhaustion and defeat. But he was equally as glad to know that O’Neill held no true malice toward Daniel Jackson. The man was a captive as well, and in a prison much darker and more dangerous than their own.

They hadn’t known about the sarcophagus when Pyrus’ people had come to take Daniel Jackson from the mine after their attempted escape. They had simply been relieved that the guards had listened to their pleas and had called for aid. Time had passed and the work had prevented them from giving into their worry about their teammate, but that which Teal’c had felt before had paled in comparison to his concern when Daniel Jackson had finally returned and had spoken of the device. Daniel Jackson had been different even after that short amount of use, the logic and justice that was the core of the man already having been skewed by the goa’uld technology. And the next time Daniel Jackson had come to them- Teal’c uttered a curse of his own as he drove his pick-axe in hard enough to sever the handle from the iron. He wished that his friend would have died in that accident now. For, by now, Teal’c figured that, for all intents and purposes, the true Daniel Jackson had.

Teal’c hadn’t been aware that the Tok’ra didn’t use the sarcophagus as the goa’uld did. Captain Carter’s revelation was one to him as well, but he didn’t know that it would do any good to stop Daniel Jackson from using it further. Though relieved by O’neill’s news when he returned from speaking to Daniel Jackson the following morning, he knew the younger man would not be returning with them. His shell, perhaps, but the essence of Daniel Jackson was gone- and the way he kissed the woman Shyla goodbye at the gate served to confirm his belief. The Daniel Jackson he knew loved his wife Sha’re and would have given anything for her. And he cast a loathsome look at the woman Shyla before he stepped through the stargate. He had no doubt that she had manipulated the situation, keeping Daniel Jackson under her ‘care’ just long enough to where she knew he wouldn’t be able to leave for long.

The next few days proved to be a strain on all of them. Teal’c had never known anyone to stop using the sarcophagus. The possibility- let alone the ramifications of doing so- had never crossed his mind, and the way that Daniel Jackson would mindlessly rant or writhe and cry out in pain in between small bouts of rest or lucidity as he stood vigil brought to mind the tales of Jaffa who had been put through the rite of M'al Sharran. The parallels were not lost on Teal’c. He suspected Daniel Jackson was walking a dark and confusing road indeed as he fought to break through what the sarcophagus had done and find his true self again.

Finally, after a struggle that lasted many days, he managed to do just that and, while relieved, Teal’c wasn’t surprised. Once he’d learned that it would be possible, he hadn’t harbored any doubt that Daniel Jackson would do it. In his own way, the man was just as strong as O’Neill and himself- and in ways that were more important than physical prowess. And, when, after obtaining Dr. Fraiser’s release, Daniel Jackson came into the briefing room and pled his case to return to P3R-636, Teal’c knew he’d truly returned from that dark journey, truly returned to his self. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere, Teal’c recalled having come across as he’d read about some of the great leaders of O’Neill’s nation. And Daniel Jackson was the only man he knew that would put himself on the line to fight for that ideal by asking to aid the person who had subjected him to such treachery.

They returned to Shyla’s world the next morning. Daniel Jackson insisted that he be allowed to try and convince the woman on his own and, after a brief argument over faith and need, O’Neill reluctantly relented. Teal’c smirked to himself. Not that O’Neill had much of a choice. Daniel Jackson would respect chain of command even though he was a civilian but Daniel Jackson also did what he believed was best regardless as to what O’Neill thought. “It will be alright,” he assured the other two as they watched their friend follow the guards to the palace.

“Yeah, I know,” O’Neill agreed slowly, reluctantly, a moment or two later and, after a prolonged glance at the retreating figure, he let his P-90 fall to rest. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I do. It’s Daniel and it’s what he does,” he corrected with a wry smirk. “But I don’t understandwhy.”

“But that is why, O’Neill.” He met the man’s gaze as it shifted to him. “Do remember what you said the first time we thought Daniel Jackson had died? You said that he was our voice and our conscience.” Teal’c briefly looked away and to the palace into which the other had disappeared. “I know that you have disagreed with Daniel Jackson’s actions many times in the moment, but I am also certain that it was moments like this that led you to those words, yes?” He looked at O’Neill again. “Though I do think you put it most eloquently yourself.” Teal’c smiled a bit when he saw the question in his friend’s eyes. “It’s Daniel Jackson. It’s what he does.”

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K is for Kite
by elder_bonnie

Jack O'Neill was woken by a sharp tug on his arm. He jerked awake and blinked heavily, his fingers twitching toward his weapon automatically. Large brown eyes in a child's face gazed back at him from not four inches away. They regarded each other silently for a moment.

Jack pulled his head back so his old eyes could focus better.

Another moment passed, before he finally snapped."What?"

The young girl, Ambi, was barely 6 years old. She beamed at him and leaned against the bed. "You did promise!"

Jack rubbed at his eyes. "I did nothing of the sort."

"Of course you did!" she declared as she tugged on his arm again.

Jack jerked his arm out of the child's hand and abruptly sat up with a dramatic inhale through his nose. He looked around at his sleeping team. Well… mostly sleeping. Teal'c was meditating in the corner, politely ignoring the goings on. Daniel was snoring softly. Carter had one eye open and was trying to hide a smile.

"Will you come?" Ambi implored, clasping her hands together. Jack allowed himself a few seconds to feign ignorance a while longer, but he did get up at last, stretching magnanimously and pulling on his BDU jacket before following the girl outside the tent.

The sky was a blue-toned slate grey, but the wind was waking and had already begun to push the clouds away. The morning winds were strong and came every day, but they always slowed to a gentle breeze by mid-morning and a lazy huff of air in the afternoon.

"Did you do your chores?" Jack asked.

Ambi spread her hands and spun in a half-circle to face the other direction. "Oh yes!" she cried, darting off.

Jack stretched some more as the wind pulled playfully at his jacket. He turned to the path that led down the hill from the encampment and spilled out upon the large mesa below, with its open fields for miles.

---

Ambi had brought him perfectly good supplies. She listened well. Eagerly they set to work. Jack showed her how to wrap the "paring grass" that grew nearby, a local plant he'd been unsuccessfully trying to convince Carter to let him take back. They wrapped it around the strong branches, then took the scrap cloth Ambi had nicked and stretched it over the backing. A few adjustments, some twine and a decorative ribbon that Jack plucked from Ambi's hair, and they had themselves a kite.

Jack spun the kite in his hand experimentally and looked at the kid. She was sitting, hands on her needs, lip between her teeth, constantly pushing her hair out of her eyes. Patient but clearly brimming with excitement.

He held the end of the twine out to her. "Think we should give this thing a test run?"

"Oh yes!" Ambi exclaimed, getting to her feet.

Jack had her stand put and started walking away with the kite. He turned to take a few steps backward, feeling the wind against the fabric. Despite having already died down from the early morning, it was trying to pull the kite away. Perfect.

Once Jack was a fair distance, he shouted back. "Ready?"

"Of course!"

And with that, Jack launched the homemade kite into the air. The wind immediately swept it up and into the sky.

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L is for Loincloth
by nymaeria

“You know, snorting doesn’t really become you,” O’Neill said as he glared at his second. Or, tried to anyway. It was hard to really glare at someone when your head was angled toward the ground.

Sam let out another snort as tears began to stream down her face which was red from laughter. “It’s just…” Sam giggled and sucked in another quick breath, laughter shaking her shoulders. “You look so…”

“Sam!” Daniel said sharply, “This isn’t funny!”

Sam looked over at Daniel, then looked him up and down, taking in his nearly naked body clothed only in a loincloth, and then clearly tried to compose herself. “Are you sure about that, Daniel?” She managed to ask before losing herself in another fit of giggles. The rest of her team just scowled at her as she almost literally fell over in the dirt laughing.

“Major Carter,” Teal’c said calmly, “would it not be wise to extricate us from this situation?”

At that, Sam’s laughter stilled, though her eyes still shone with merriment and she struggled to catch her breath. She took a deep breath, and her lips still turning up at the corner, replied, “Maybe. It’s just…” her shoulders started shaking with laughter again, but she paused to try to take a deep breath and managed to keep her calm. “I mean, usually, the shoe is on the other foot.”

Teal’c’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Is it not the loincloth that is the issue here, rather in than the shoes, Major Carter? I do not see how our bare feet are relevant.”

Sam sighed, her expression softening, “No, Teal’c, it’s not that. It’s just, usually I’m the one who gets stuck having to wear some horribly embarrassing local garb. And usually, I’m the ones the locals have a problem with. No offense, but it’s kinda nice to have it be you guys for a change, rather than me.”

“Carter!” O’Neill barked. “Fine, you’ve had your laugh. Now get us out of here!”

Sam raised an eyebrow at her commanding officer. “Now, sir,” she said sweetly, “You guys violated their custom. And they’re only asking you a small offering in exchange.” Sam grinned. Shortly after arriving through the ‘gate, they’d initiated contact with the locals. SG12 had made contact a few days prior and discovered that the Ottarantons were sitting on a vast supply of Naquadah. What they’d failed to realize, though, was how important it was that SG12 happened to be an all female team. When SG12 had arrived, the locals had been friendly and seemed open to establishing a trade agreement with Earth. SG1 was sent to follow up with the negotiations and make sure things went smoothly. Unfortunately, shortly after making contact, they came to understand that men were simply not permitted to conduct business on this planet. In fact, they were not even permitted to speak about politics or in public forums of debate at all.

As soon as Daniel had tried to engage the locals in discussion about their natural resources and trade agreements, the Ottaranton council had been deeply offended. When Colonel O’Neill had tried to jump in to explain, the council’s security guards had moved in to take them into custody. At this, Teal’c had drawn his weapon, something which men were forbidden to possess.

Luckily, O’Neill had decided creating casualties wasn’t the best move. He’d ordered Teal’c to stand down and as the three men were taken into custody, Sam had stepped in to explain. Having noticed upon arriving that the council and all their security personnel were women, she’d already begun to suspect this was a very women dominated society. She just hadn’t appreciated how strictly that was the case until the guys had begun speaking.

After hastily explaining that things were a little different on her world, and that men were at times allowed to accompany women on diplomatic missions to serve either as scribes or as pack mules, the locals calmed down a little. Sam had had to fight to keep a smile off her face as she’d added that last bit. Her commanding officer had stood there watching her, mouth gaping in surprise at her words as she negotiated their release. The council was agreeable to chalking it up to a cultural misunderstanding and had said the negotiations could continue later that day. However, there was just the matter of the fact that the men had spoken directly to the council leader. In Ottaranton society, they explained, this was traditionally punished by a ritual designed to humiliate the transgressor. Specifically, they were stripped down, provided with only a decorative loincloth, and made to stand with arms and head locked into the stockade in the public square. Tradition dictated that this punishment last a day and a night, however, in recognition of the hope for future mutually agreeable trade arrangements, the council benevolently agreed to limit the punishment to only one hour. The council assured her that the men would be returned unharmed after their two hours were complete. After a brief nod of resignation from her CO, Sam accepted their terms.

The guys were now halfway through their “punishment” and had attracted quite a crowd of onlookers.

Sam just grinned. “Surely you’ve endured worse?”

O’Neill audibly growled in frustration. “Damnit, Carter.” He kicked the dirt at his feet.

Sam’s grin softened to a smile. “Sorry guys. It’s just… after the blue dress, and ceremonial beads of P3X-597, and the horrible scratchy nettle… thing of P4Y-382, and let’s not even talk about P3Y-195…” she cringed at the memory. “It’s just… it’s really nice that it’s not me for a change who has to do something embarrassing for the sake of diplomacy. That’s all.” She smiled at them sheepishly.

“So, Sam, do you think you could talk to them?” Daniel pleaded. “See if they can shorten our sentence?”

“Yeah, c’mon, Carter. You’ve had your fun.” O’Neill said. “Now see if you can get us out of here.”

“But Sir!” Sam said sweetly, “Certainly you recall General Hammond instructing us that we were to keep them happy and see this trade agreement through! If you don’t finish your sentence, you’ll offend them even more.” Sam got to her feet.

“And we can’t risk that now, can we?” Sam grinned and turned away, whistling to herself.

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M is for Mourning: A Second Sorrow
by gategremlyn

Daniel's instructions were quick and concise: “Kasuf will know how to prepare the body for burial. Tell him his good son bows to his judgment in this matter. He'll understand.”

Stunned by the scene in front of him, Jack looked at Daniel still on the floor beside his wife. He looked at Teal'c still standing with his staff weapon in his hand. He looked at the body of a beautiful woman, Sha're, still reaching out to her husband. And he wondered how the hell it had all happened. “Teal'c?”

“Amaunet had him in the grip of a ribbon device. I had no choice but to fire.”

Daniel's finger caressed Sha're's cheek. Eventually, he pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet. He turned to face them, swaying and unsteady. “In three days we'll need to be on Abydos to carry out the rites. I'd like General Hammond and Janet to be there, and you and Sam , of course. And Teal'c.” Daniel choked on that one word only:Teal'c.

Jack's fingers itched to reach out to Daniel, in part because he was waiting for Daniel to fall flat on his pale face. It chilled Jack to listen to the orders for Sha're's funeral, given in a voice that detached and analytical. It didn't seem right for Daniel to be so... calm about it all. There was no anger, no grief, and no tears. Jack watched with increasing worry as Daniel elaborated the funeral customs of the Abydonians. He listened, heartsick, as Daniel continued.

“They'll need to wrap the body in muslin or linen. Let Kasuf know that we can help him with that. The arms are placed at the sides. The cloth is sprinkled with herbs before it's wrapped around the body. The herbs are for remembrance, but they were also used to cover the odor of... decay.” His voice caught and he swallowed before continuing: “The wrapping starts at the feet and moves up the body. Kasuf might want to bring someone back with him to help. It's usually the closest family members who prepare the body. So General Hammond will need to give them clearance to be on the base. Oh, and a necklace, an amulet, is placed around the neck to aid in the journey to the afterlife. Kasuf will bring that with him.” Except for the slight quaver in his voice, he could have been giving a lecture to a undergrad anthropology class or a hall of new recruits.

Jack led Daniel to a small stool and pushed him down onto it, listening carefully to all of the instructions as he did. He knew Carter and Teal'c were doing same so that Daniel's wishes would be honored. While the voice was calm, Jack saw the hands clench the sides of the stool holding Daniel upright.

Daniel stayed where Jack had placed him as the medics came to take Sha're's body away.

He continued to give quiet instructions as he watched them place the body on a stretcher to take back to the SGC. The medics were topnotch guys. They'd straightened the still warm, still pliant body. They'd lifted her gently onto the stretcher and folded her hands on her chest. They'd covered her with a sheet. And all the while Daniel talked, his voice low and steady. “Kasuf will say prayers for the dead, and I'll recite the funeral litany from the graveside. After the service we'll offer more prayers to speed the soul to the afterlife....”

Daniel refused medical attention for himself, saying it could wait until they got back to the base. He stood as they lifted the stretcher, silent at last, as was everyone else in the tent. Jack moved to stand by Daniel's side, unable to do anything else to show his support. The medics walked slowly past where Daniel and Jack stood. Jack expected Daniel to ask them to stop so that he could touch his wife's face. He expected Daniel to cry out, to take her hand, to walk beside her, but Daniel did none of those things. He merely watched.

Throughout the instructions and the removal of the body, Daniel had looked at no one and nothing except Sha're. Someone had killed his wife, a woman for whom they'd searched for years. And know she was gone. Dead. Killed. By a staff blast from Teal'c. From a friend. Other than his unwavering focus on his wife's face and the clenching fist, there had been barely a sign that Daniel was moved by any of this. He stood staring out the opening of the tent for long minutes after the body's removal. His team mates stood silently by, honoring his loss in the only way they could, waiting for him to say or do something else.

From outside they could hear the sound of the Stargate activating, the noise of machinery being moved into place for its return home, the shouts of voices calling back and forth. Inside the tent, it was quiet.

“I'll need a couple of days after the funeral to get some things in order before I go through the Chapp'ai to search for the boy—I mean the Stargate. We'll set up a schedule of planets to visit, planets where Amaunet might have hidden him. I'll do it right after the funeral.” The voice broke again on the word funeral. “Teal'c...Teal'c you'll need to help me look for a reference to a planet called Kheb.”

Jack broke in. “Whoa, Daniel! Let's talk about our next mission after we've had Doctor Fraiser check you out, okay?”

“We have to look for the boy. Amaunet hid him, and I promised Sha're I'd keep him safe.”

“Look, we'll head for home first, and then you and I will go talk to Kasuf. Whatever preparations you need to make, we're here to help. You know that, right? You just have to ask.”

“No, Kasuf will need to do the preparations. I'll be...I'll be...”

Daniel's legs buckled underneath him. Jack barely saw it coming. As he reached out to grab the limp body, he heard Carter yell for the medics. “You'll be in the infirmary,” Jack said, “which is where you should have been an hour ago.”

“I've been through it once,” Daniel muttered as Jack eased him to the ground, “buried her once. I know...I know how it's supposed to be d-done.”

Jack spoke carefully, “You've been through it once? You mean you attended a funeral while you lived on Abydos?”

“No, I mean I've buried Sha're before.”

~::~

To stop the argument, Fraiser held up her hand. “I understand your concern, sir, but I can't keep him from his wife's funeral.”

“He thinks he's already buried her,” Jack said. “Don't you think that's a little--?”

“Sir, he told me he needed to leave tomorrow with Sha're's body. Since I've had him on bed rest and IV fluids since you got him home, he should be well enough to travel by then as long as he doesn't overdo it. You'll be there to make sure he doesn't overdo it.”

“You didn't hear him on the planet. He told us he'd buried her already. How do you explain that?”

“According to what you've told me, he had a very vivid dream.”

“A dream that took a few seconds from woman who was trying to kill him and who told him to look for a baby on a planet we've never even heard of.”

“Daniel's under a lot of stress right now, colonel, as people are after a death. Sometimes the mind takes us where we need to go, and Daniel needs to have something of his wife.” She put her hand on Jack's arm. “At the moment our job is to be there for him.”

“Yeah.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair, shaking of Fraiser's reassurance at the same time.

Janet stepped back. “I'm more surprised that he's asked Teal'c to come to the funeral.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Jack turned and left.

~::~

The words were beautiful, Jack thought. And Daniel, always the linguist, translated each line so that everyone present could hear and understand. After the words, Daniel's Earth family took one side of the grave cloth and his Abydonian family the other. They pulled until the sand tumbled onto the body and covered her. Kasuf and Daniel watched. At the end of the ceremony, Daniel walked away. Jack saw him disappear behind the tent and then reappear half way up a sand dune. He made to follow but Kasuf stopped him.

“Let him go,” Kasuf said. Jack didn't argue.

Kasuf and the team—minus Daniel—walked Fraiser and General Hammond to the Stargate.

“Doctor Jackson can stay as long as you need him, Kasuf,” Hammond said as they waited for the 'gate to engage. “And his team, of course.”

Kasuf nodded. “It will not be easy for him.”

~::~

It was more than an hour before Daniel returned to join the mourners in the tent. It was cooler inside than outside, but still hot enough that Jack and Sam had both taken off their jackets. Teal'c remained in his gray robe, something brought from Chulak, Jack suspected. Jack's eyes followed Daniel around the room. He was pale and tired, but he moved from group to group, talking quietly with each. He talked to Kasuf last and longest.

When he finally came to join his team, all of whom had been seated in places of honor, he sank to the sand as though his knees could no longer hold him upright. Carter reached out a hand and placed it on his knee. No one said anything.

Finally, Daniel broke the silence. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to Kasuf... and to me.”

“You know we wouldn't be anywhere else,” Sam said.

“We are honored,” Teal'c added.

Daniel didn't look at Teal'c. He hadn't really looked at any of them, except for the briefest of glances, since Sha're's death. By his side, his fist clenched again although only Jack was placed to see it. For the first time in days, Jack saw sorrow and anger on Daniel's face. The depth of both almost made Jack gasp out loud. In a way it was a relief to finally see the emotions Daniel had guarded so fiercely for so long. From his own experience, Jack knew about the stages of grief: denial, anger, depression. It was as though Daniel had skipped the first stages and gone right to acceptance—until now.

“We're here as long as you need us,” Jack said.

“I know.” Daniel paused, gathering himself. The sorrow and anger faded to be replaced by a devastating weariness. “I'd like to stay until tomorrow. Kasuf wants me to keep going 'among the gods' to find Sha're's son, and I promised her that I'd--” He stopped himself and looked down at the food spread before them on a small table. He reached for a goblet of water and drank.

Jack wanted to be silent, but couldn't. This delusion of Daniel's didn't help him. He couldn't substitute his search for his wife with a search for her son. It wasn't healthy. “Daniel how can you know--”

Daniel flared, the anger bubbling out. “I just can,” he hissed. “I know you don't believe me, but I was there. Sha're asked me to find the boy, and I am going to do that. He's a Harsesis and he's in danger.”

“Harsesis?” Jack asked. “What the hell is a Harsesis?”

“A Harsesis is the offspring of two goa'ulded hosts,” Teal'c said. “He contains all the knowledge of the Goa'uld.”

“All?” Jack put aside the “how”--a damn hard thing to do when it amounted to rape --and thought about the “what.” What would a child with all the knowledge of the Goa'uld do? He would be incredibly dangerous. “Why would Apothis... you know?” He cleared his throat and cursed himself for his own stupidity.

Daniel shut his eyes and dropped his head. Jack saw the fist open and close. “...father such a child,” Daniel finished for him.

“Undoubtedly, Apothis hoped to create a new host for himself.”

“That's frightening,”Sam said.

“If any other Goa'uld finds him, he'll be killed--slaughtered,” Daniel said. “If Apothis finds him, he'll be.... I can't let that happen. I promised her.”

If what Teal'c said was true and the child had all the knowledge of the Goa'uld, Jack thought, maybe it was better to let the Goa'uld get rid of their problem for them. Even if they found the boy, what could they do with him? What possible future was there for someone who held that much evil?

“But Daniel,” Sam said, “we don't know where the boy is. We don't even know where to start looking.”

“And you don't believe me anyway; none of you believe me.” Daniel stood. His back was ramrod straight and his eyes were steel. He didn't look at any of them. “I'm going to take a walk.”

This time when Jack looked to Kasuf, he saw only worry. “I'm going to--”

“No. I will go, O'Neill.” Teal'c stood, straightened his robes, and followed Daniel out of the tent.

“Is this a good idea, sir?” Carter asked.

“I have no idea.”

He and Carter sat back down. They ate a few pastries, they talked to a few people who came to their table, they stayed away from the local wine, and they waited. It was more than an hour later when Teal'c and Daniel came back in.

Daniel looked exhausted. The burn mark from the ribbon device stood out against his skin. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. But his shoulders had lost their tension, and his lips smiled. “I have to talk to Kasuf,” he said. “People will be reciting prayers for the dead all night tonight. The prayers are supposed to help the spirit move from one world to the next. As her closest family, Kasuf and I will be there.”

Jack said they'd help. Before he could even finish the sentence, Daniel put up a hand. “This isn't something any of you can do, but I appreciate the offer. Because you're not family, all you could do is watch.” He pulled his hand out from the sleeves of his robe and ran his fingers through his hair. His hands were shaking. “When you're ready, someone will take you to another tent with sleeping mats and water. I want to thank you again for coming. It means more than I can say. But go get some sleep. It's been a long few days.” For the first time since Sha're's death, he looked directly at them. He looked at Jack and then at Sam, and his eyes were clear.

He turned to Teal'c who had been standing like a shadow by his right shoulder. He reached out his hand and took Teal'c's arm. “Thank you, Teal'c.” Teal'c reached out, returning the gesture with a small nod. Daniel let the arm drop. Then he turned to find Kasuf and left the tent.

Jack wondered what the thank you was for. Thank you for coming? Thank you for saving me? Thank you for freeing my wife? What? “Teal'c?”

“The boy is on Kheb,” Teal'c said. Which wasn't an answer to Jack's question. He wanted to know what Daniel and Teal'c had said to one another after they left the tent. He wondered about the Jaffa handshake and the enigmatic “thank you.” Somehow, he didn't think he'd find out.

“We don't know where Kheb is,” Carter pointed out. “I think I've mentioned that before.”

“Then we will find it,” Teal'c said.

“How?” Jack didn't want to put a damper on whatever understanding Teal'c and Daniel had come to out on the Abydonian sands, but he dealt in realities.

“I do not know,” Teal'c answered honestly. “But I know that Daniel Jackson needs to find the child, and that we need Daniel Jackson. I have promised him that we will search together, as we did with Sha're.”

Jack thought back to his conversation with Janet Fraiser. The mind takes us where we need to go, she'd said. Daniel needed to believe that he could find the boy in the same way that he'd needed to find his wife. He sighed. “You're not the least bit bothered by Daniel having visions of his dead wife?”

“I am disturbed,” Teal'c admitted, “yet I believe Sha're spoke to him about the child—and about me.”

“About you?” Sam asked. “What did she say?”

“She told Daniel Jackson that we must find the boy together.” Teal'c paused. “She also talked to him of forgiveness.”

Forgiveness. For the man who killed her. And Daniel had done just that. Jack shook his head in disbelief.

“I know too that he will bear his sorrow, as we all must, alone. In his search for Kheb, we can keep him by us.”

Jack thought about another fruitless search. He wondered how Daniel would cope with another loss, and another sorrow because no matter how it ended—if they found the boy or if they didn't—Daniel would be hurt. Again. Teal'c had the right of it, though; they would be there for him. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go.”

“Where, sir?”

“We're going to offer prayers for the dead.”

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