Through A Glass Darkly 1

Through A Glass Darkly

by Apocrypha

URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asa/apocrypha/glass01.php
Summary: SG-1 travels through the TDM and sees what might have been.

"Nice of you to join us, Daniel," Jack said dryly as Daniel came into the room still reading a sheet of paper by the light of his flashlight as he walked through the darkness.

"Jack I know you're bored. I heard you teaching Teal'c 'One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall'. I'm ... this is important." When there was no response, Daniel looked up from his papers to see Jack looking patiently indulgent, and Sam was grinning openly. "No, it really is."

The metal walls of the alien lab gleamed dull and cold around the SG-1 team, and Sam seemed ghostly pale in the puddle of light given off by her portable lamp. She looked down briefly at the partially dissected mechanical object under the lamp, and back at Daniel. "Well, I've found nothing. What'd you come up with?"

"I couldn't be sure at first, but the notes the aliens left behind indicate that they were back-engineering technology -- Goa'uld technology, as well as others, and they'd had some success. What I couldn't be certain of was whether or not they might have been Goa'uld allies, or even Goa'uld themselves; it's hard to tell from the projects they were working on, and we don't know how long ago this facility was abandoned. But I did figure out the aliens that worked here were explorers, like us, and were enemies of the Goa'uld."

"And you know that how, exactly?" Jack asked.

Daniel flipped through a few of the pages. "Because there's a record here of their efforts to remove a symbiote from its host. They were trying to figure out a way to do it so the symbiote would live, which made me think at first that they were Goa'uld allies, maybe trying to get a weakened symbiote out of a damaged body, but then I realized it was so they could interrogate it -- although how you question a symbiote without a host to speak for it I have no idea..."

"Daniel, are you saying they'd made progress in getting a snake out of host?"

"No -- I'm saying they did it. They were just perfecting their technique. But there's more." He paused and adjusted his glasses. "Jack, they were back-engineering alien technology like we do, and running their own experiments like we do. They were working on all the stuff that we're working on, but they were ahead of where we are now. They were experimenting with weapons technologies, defense systems, power sources..." Daniel trailed off, and there was silence in the room. It was Teal'c who asked the question.

"Is there any indication of where the aliens have relocated?"

"Well, no ... they left to escape the Goa'uld, I think, so they didn't leave behind a forwarding address, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't their home world. I doubt we'll be able to find them unless the Tok'ra can tell us something."

Jack snorted at the idea, turned to look at Sam, and gave a gesture that included the room and its countertops filled with engineering detritus. "You find any gizmos like what he's describing, Carter?"

"No, sir. Unfortunately, there's not much here. They left some of the large equipment, but nothing really extraordinary. I mean, some of it's interesting," she pointed at the 'gizmo' she'd been working on when the team had re-grouped. "And some of it's even ... a little different. But I haven't seen anything I couldn't wait to get back to my own lab. Of course, I haven't been completely through everything yet."

"Well, Major, if there's any chance there might be any weaponry or useful gadgets here, I want them taken back with us."

"Yes, sir."

"Daniel, start focusing on gathering up all the notes, and potentially useful bits of paper to take back."

"Jack..."

"Yes, I know. I also know that these people are long gone. You can translate the information for Carter sitting in your far more comfy chair back at the SGC -- in the land of overhead lightning. And I can watch the game that's on tonight. We're not going to gain anything by being here much longer. Make a clean sweep of it, and let's move out."

Daniel nodded in acquiescence, and he and Teal'c followed the dark maze of hallways back to the offices to gather up notes. Jack returned to the gateroom and was contemplating a cold beer and the pre-game show when he heard Sam call him over the com-link.

"Sir? You should come look at this."

They all answered her call, stepping over the empty boxes piled in the hallways to get to the back room she'd gone into. Sam was standing, flashlight in her hand, watching the light bounce off the back wall as though it were ... it was. It was a mirror. She turned to see Daniel and Teal'c following Jack into the room, and held up her left hand. "Recognize this, Daniel?"

Daniel did. It was the control device for a trans-dimensional mirror, and the mirror was...the mirror was huge. It didn't take up the entire back wall as he had first thought, but very nearly.

"Okay, now there's something you don't see every day." Jack gestured towards the mirror. "I'll bet they hated leaving that puppy behind."

"Maybe they didn't leave it behind, Jack, maybe they went through it. Maybe that's why it had to be so large -- so they could transport large equipment. If we could find them..."

"Why not take the controller with them, then?" Jack asked, pointing to the controller device Sam held.

Sam shrugged, and said, "Maybe they did. Maybe they had more than one and left this one in case somebody got stranded." She gave a small gesture with the device. "Should we take a look?"

Jack made a face at the mirror. "We haven't had very good luck with those things in the past."

"We haven't? If I hadn't gone through the first one, we'd all be dead by now. And that one's big enough to have transported your 'big honkin' space gun'." Daniel grinned at the face Jack made.

Teal'c spoke, his deep voice seeming to softly echo in the still lab. "It does indeed seem there is a chance for much useful information if these people were advanced enough to remove a Goa'uld symbiote from its host."

"It's certainly worth a look, sir."

Jack contemplated the mirror and its possibilities, then motioned for the team to take up better positions in the room. With the ease borne of years of practice together, they spread out and adjusted themselves. When they'd settled in, Jack gave his second a nod, and Sam activated the controller.

The mirror shimmered with a wave of light, then solidified into a view of another dark lab. Again and again the mirror glowed, and still the labs on the other side of the mirror remained dark, empty, abandoned.

And then -- the mirror shimmered and when the new image coalesced, the room SG-1 stood in was bathed in the bright lights of the obviously fully operational lab on the other side of the mirror. The team drew its collective breath.

"That gizmo can get us back home, right, Major?"

Knowing what he was considering, Sam nodded. "Yes, sir. We'd have approximately 48 hours before entropic cascade failure begins."

"Would not the entropic cascade failure only affect us if we have counterparts in the other universe?" Teal'c asked.

"True, but all ... well, most of us do tend to exist in the alternate universes we've seen," Sam said with a shrug.

"We shouldn't need the controller unless the mirror gets reset by another controller," Daniel added. "We should leave something here to mark our place, though, in case that happens. All those other labs looked alike."

Jack stepped forward and set his cap on a counter within sight of the mirror. "You can speak that language you were reading, right Daniel?" He waited for Daniel's nod, then added, "Okay, let's give it a try then." Sam slid the controller into a pocket and, as a group, the team stepped forward to touch the mirror.

There was the slight shock Daniel remembered, and then his eyes were trying to adjust to the bright glare from the overhead lights in the new lab. The counters were covered with bits and pieces of objects, and some that still looked whole. Sam recognized a zat gun, a Goa'uld ribbon device and a healing device in the piles. Being able to see the workspaces more clearly, she was surprised at how familiar the tools looked. Other than the equipment, however, the room was empty.

"Someone exited the room as we arrived," Teal'c said.

"Who?" Jack asked.

"I do not know. I merely saw a leg and arm as he left."

"You know it was a 'he,' though?"

"I believe so."

"Okay, so the natives are restless. Let's go say 'hi'."

The hallway outside the lab was clear. Jack raised his voice and called, "Hello?" No one responded.

Jack looked pointedly at Daniel, who called an alien word, then another, and then again with a different pronunciation. The corridors stayed empty and quiet. Daniel shrugged. "We could try the gateroom...?"

The team moved down the hall, passing branch-off corridors and doorways. The base seemed to be identical in structure to the one they had just left, though brightly lit. They hadn't yet seen a single figure when the familiar sound of a zat gun filled their ears. The sound came from behind them, and the blast struck Teal'c squarely in the back. He fell with a surprised sound and a soft thud.

Jack and Sam wheeled in place, raising their weapons, and Daniel drew his. Another blast hit Sam and she fell, but Jack still hadn't seen more than a glimpse of the figure that had fired before he darted back behind the cover of a corner.

Daniel was speaking in the alien tongue, words Jack couldn't understand but was relying on regardless. The section of the corridor where they had been trapped offered no cover; Jack and Daniel both had their backs to the wall, but Daniel was still speaking and had raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. The gesture failed to have its desired effect, and Daniel cried out Jack's name as a third shot pinned him to the wall, then dropped him.

The figure reappeared and Jack fired off a round of bullets, denting the wall, but missing his target. The fourth shot from the zat struck him in the leg, and he collapsed. The world faded to a haze of blue energy, pain, and the smell of ozone and Jack struggled to retain consciousness, though his body was refusing all other commands.

Into Jack's vision came a man in a black t-shirt. In the slow-motion world of pain, his brain wondered why the man looked like Daniel, then promptly reminded him of the mirror.

"Danny?" Jack asked out loud, and wondered silently, Why is Daniel shooting at us? There was no answer from the Daniel swimming in his vision, but Jack's brain answered, Not Daniel. Not-Daniel. He watched the not-Daniel raise his zat and aim it.

"Move and die," the not-Daniel said in a voice colder than Jack would have thought possible, then he made a motion and Jack watched men in SGC uniforms come forward and begin to strip his team of their weapons and gear. Jack couldn't raise his gun; he tried ineffectually to tighten his grip upon it, but it was pulled from his grasp. With it he also lost his tentative grip on consciousness, and the world went black.

~~~

Jack rubbed his temple and sat up. "Oh, yeah, that NEVER gets old." He looked around the room and saw that Teal'c was already awake and Daniel and Sam were still out. "Any news, Teal'c?"

"We are in some sort of detention room, and we have been disarmed."

"Yeah, thanks." A quick survey showed that they had all been stripped of both weapons and all equipment. The room was barren except for two cots covered by green wool blankets, although all four of them had been lain on the concrete floor. Jack glanced at the door, and back at Teal'c. "Door locked?" Teal'c nodded, then looked at Daniel, who was groaning and rubbing his head.

There were a few groggy passes of his hands over his face, then Daniel replaced his glasses and looked around the room and blinked. "Damn. There goes fifty bucks."

Jack looked at him quizzically. "Huh?"

"Feretti bet me fifty dollars SG-1 couldn't go five missions without getting captured. This was number five. Damn."

Jack snorted. "That was a dumb bet, Daniel. If I were the superstitious sort, I'd say you jinxed us."

"I must concur with O'Neill," Teal'c added. "It was a most foolish bet. Please refrain from betting on the frequency of our injuries, as well."

Sam groaned and Daniel helped her sit up. "How can soldiers have so many superstitions and still call me the flaky one? Sam, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daniel." She looked around the room through eyes that still resisted her attempts to focus. "We're in a cell, aren't we?"

"No, Carter. We're in a locked room with no weapons."

"Oh right, sir. That's much better."

By the time the door opened, they were all fully awake and ready to meet their hosts, but Jack was the only one not completely surprised by the appearance of the man that entered the room flanked by two SF's. He'd been sure enough that he imagined it that Jack hadn't said anything about the man who'd single-handedly neutralized his team, but he wished he had as Daniel Jackson motioned for an SF to close the door.

Major Daniel Jackson, by the insignia on his jacket.

"Uh, hi," said Jackson, with an apologetic smile at the group. "First off, very sorry about that. And, uh," Jackson raised his eyebrows with another wide smile at SG-1. "Welcome to the SGC Outpost."

Outpost? Jack's brain went through a series of questions, then settled on a priority. "Thanks. It's been lovely so far," Jack drawled. "Can we have our equipment back?"

"Oh, absolutely. We'll pick it up on the tour around the place." Jackson sat on the edge of a cot and surveyed the group. "Like I said, I'm sorry about that. The technician you surprised was babbling something about Jaffa and intruders, and wasn't clear at first that you weren't actually threatening him. We've been a little ... touchy around here lately -- we've had some security issues. So ... I'm Major Jackson. Dan." He grinned at Daniel and looked at his counterpart's jacket, bearing only the SGC logo. "And you're ... not."

"Dr. Daniel Jackson. Civilian consultant."

"Wow. Weird."

"Not as weird as 'Major Jackson'." Daniel noticed the lack of glasses on the other man, and wondered if his counterpart wore contacts.

"So ... you aren't me -- who are you? Where did your group come from?"

"It's the mirror," Sam said. "It's a dimensional gateway. Einstein had a theory that there are infinite dimensions wherein all possible permutations are made real. The theory is true. The mirror is a dimensional portal."

"You're from ... another dimension?" Jackson looked at Daniel, who nodded.

Major Jackson laughed and took in the group again. Jack watched him watch them. It was unbelievably odd, seeing a version of Daniel doing the 'first contact' thing from this angle, but it was undoubtedly what Major Jackson was doing. The biggest difference was a change in attitude -- Daniel always had an inherent humility when dealing with strangers, he approached them on their terms.

By contrast, Major Jackson was implicitly working from a position of strength where he seemed very comfortable. After a moment of watching them, Jack could notice the physical differences as well, slight though they were. Jackson obviously spent more time working out, and he was in no way clumsy. There was also a faint scar running down his hairline at the right temple.

"So, the Jaffa's not ... he's okay?" Jackson's eyes took in Teal'c's mass as he spoke.

Jack answered, though the question had been directed at Sam. "Yeah, he's okay. And his name's Teal'c. We don't generally refer to him as 'the Jaffa'."

"Oh, sure. Teal'c." Jackson stood and addressed Jack. "So would you like to see the rest of the base? Colonel O'Neill's dying to see your team."

"Oh, I'll bet." Jack guessed the Major had probably been given orders to bring them to a briefing room, and decided not to argue. "Yeah, let's go meet the Colonel. Then we need to be on our way. We can't stay in a dimension where we already exist." Jack didn't know if the uncomfortable feeling in his gut would be any less were he dealing with another version of himself, but it was worth a try. At this point, Jackson couldn't give the order to have them released anyway. Time to go deal with the boss. Jack could hardly wait.

"How come you can't stay?"

"There's a thing ... Carter?"

"Entropic cascade failure, sir."

"Right. That thing."

Jackson grinned, turned, and gestured to an SF to open the door. SG-1 followed the Major out of the room.

"Interesting group you've got here," Major Jackson said to Jack as they moved down the hallway. "A Jaffa, a scientist, a ... civilian." There was just the slightest pause before the word 'civilian', and Daniel thought perhaps there was a bit of a sneer in the tone, as well.

"Yeah, we're just a rag-tag group of misfits," Jack said conversationally while he tracked their path down the maze of hallways.

"What I don't understand is why an SGC would allow someone as valuable as Carter into the field." Jackson turned and walked a few steps backwards as he fixed a smile on Sam. "We couldn't keep the place running without our Captain Carter." There was another smile her way, and although Sam returned it, Jack could tell it was her 'public face' smile, not one of genuine pleasure.

Which was good, in Jack's opinion. He didn't want anyone getting lazy just because the people here were wearing familiar faces.

Okay, that was unfair; it wasn't a 'familiar' face. It was Daniel's face -- and yet it wasn't. Jack couldn't shake the thought that if he hadn't imagined 'Not-Daniel,' then he hadn't imagined that cold tone of voice, either.

Sam kept up the banter with Jackson easily, making eye contact, and laughing at his jokes as they moved down the hallway. She also never fell out of step with her team, despite Jackson's two attempts to separate her with subtle sidesteps around the few personnel they passed in the halls.

Being at least bright enough to see he wasn't drawing her in, Jackson shifted the focus of his attention.

"So ... 'Doctor' Jackson, huh? Doctor of?"

"Archaeology, and ..."

"Archaeology?" Now Daniel was certain of the sneer as the Major looked at Jack. Major Jackson recovered quickly, though, and almost managed to make his next questions sound as though he was teasing a friend. "You've got an archaeologist in a field unit? What in the world for?"

"Oh, he's come in handy a couple of times."

The Major laughed, which set Jack's nerves on edge, and led the group across the base's gateroom. Jack spotted a security camera in the corner of the big room, and wondered what sort of 'security issues' the base had if cameras hadn't been installed in the hallways; the gateroom camera was the only one Jack had seen. They moved down another hall, then Jackson stopped at a doorway.

"And here we are." He stepped back from the doorway and threw his arm wide as though he were inviting them into his home and not into a debriefing room under the watchful eyes of an armed escort.

Jack's instincts were tugging at him, a nagging warning klaxon sounding dully in the back of his head. He watched Jackson stroll around the room, and he tried to put his finger on it. The man had been only been a little snide so far, and only to Daniel, which Jack supposed he could understand, if only just. He wasn't certain how he'd react himself if he met a civilian Jack O'Neill from another dimension, but he could guess he'd probably feel a little ... 'snide.'

And as for the armed guard, well, he'd do the same thing if it were his base. Still ....

Jackson took off his jacket and tossed it across a chair, revealing not only a chest considerably more developed than Daniel's, but also a well-worn shoulder-holster and sidearm. Jack thought the move was less than subtle.

"Always wear your gun around your own base, or is that just for us?"

"Wha ... uh, no. Like I said, 'security issues'."

"And those would be what, exactly?"

Jackson opened his mouth to answer, but the door opened, and Colonel O'Neill entered the room. He took in SG-1 with a glance, and made a small "hmph" sound. Major Jackson gestured to the group broadly, and turned to his CO.

"Colonel O'Neill, this is SG-1." Amusement was twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, and the Jaffa's name is Teal'c."

"Interesting," was O'Neill's only comment, and he pulled a chair back from the table and settled into it. There was a moment of silence, and Jack was about to ask again for their equipment, but Doctor and Major Jackson spoke at the same time.

"What I'm curious about ..."

"So how did you ..."

Both broke off, and Jackson laughed. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"Um...yeah. What I was wondering was...what happened here on the Abydos mission? That seems to be the common denominator in the realities. What happened after you figured out the Stargate symbols?"

"After I figured out the Stargate symbols? I didn't figure out the Stargate symbols. Catherine Langford and a bunch of her, uh, scientists did that."

"You ... you don't speak Egyptian?"

"Sure. I speak modern Egyptian, modern Aramaic, modern Hebrew, nine different modern Arabic dialects -- but I don't read hieroglyphs. You read hieroglyphs?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Wow. Next you'll be telling me you read cuneiform." Jackson grinned.

"Um, I do, actually. Read cuneiform."

"Why in hell ...? Wow. You must have a lot of time on your hands. Get laid much?"

Daniel's mouth dropped open then snapped shut at the question, and by the time he opened it again, he clearly had a head of steam. Jackson raised a hand, assumed a contrite look, and pulled up a chair to sit near Daniel.

"Hey, hey, sorry. That was totally out of line. Sorry. So you said 'realities' -- you guys must get around, then. How many different dimensions have you been in? Do you go and do research on a regular basis?" He directed the last questions at Sam while Daniel struggled to swallow the flow of words he'd gotten together in his head. Sam cast a glance at Daniel before answering somewhat tightly.

"Not many. We've had a people drop in on us, though. And no, no research -- there's no time. We only have a couple of days before we have to return. Not enough time to do research." Not being satisfied by Major Jackson's apology, Sam decided she'd rather ask questions than answer them. "So without the ancient linguistics knowledge base that Daniel has, how did you communicate with the people on Abydos?"

"Well, we didn't have much of a chance to 'communicate' before we blew the place," he said in a slightly patient tone.

"Before you 'blew' the place?" Daniel erupted. "You exploded that bomb on Abydos?"

"Yeah ... I take it you didn't?"

Daniel's mouth was working soundlessly, and Sam stepped in.

"But the Abydonian map -- if you ... if you didn't stay behind on Abydos, how'd you find the Abydonian map?"

Major Jackson blinked and tilted his head. "The Abydonian map?"

"With the Stargate addresses."

Jackson traded a glance with his Colonel O'Neill, still silent in the corner. "A list of addresses? On Abydos? There were Stargate addresses on Abydos?" He stood and paced a line to the door and back again. "No ... we didn't find anything on Abydos -- didn't really have time. But you found addresses there? And you ... you've made them work?"

"Yes, of course. How can you be exploring the galaxy without those addresses? How can you be here?"

"The Tok'ra contacted us a little while after we killed Ra. They wanted to be allies. And we still try random combinations every chance we get -- that's how we found this place. Do you know about the Tok'ra?"

"Yeah, we know about the Tok'ra." Jack answered. "You work with them?"

"Yes. There's a group with General Maybourne right now back at the SGC base on Earth."

"GENERAL Maybourne?" Jack gasped out the words. "General MAYBOURNE? Harry made General?" He looked at the Colonel O'Neill across the room. "You take orders from Harry Maybourne?"

"Jack," Daniel interrupted what looked to him like a potential tirade. "Maybe he's different here. Maybe he's ... "

"Not a slime-ball?" Jack snorted in disbelief. "I think that's one of the constants of the universe, Daniel." He couldn't help but notice that O'Neill wasn't rising to defend his commanding officer, and that told Jack everything he needed to know about this world's Harry Maybourne.

Jackson had resumed pacing, but he stopped and smiled at Jack. Jack presumed it was meant to be a friendly smile, but he was less than warmed by it. These people were taking orders from General Harry Maybourne. He realized his alarms were going off again -- not that they had ever really stopped.

"So," Jackson said around his oh-so-friendly smile. "Seems like there's all kinds of little differences here. Very interesting." Seeing the shocked look still lingering in Jack's eyes, he turned his smile back to Sam. "All kinds of little things. How long have you been a Major?"

"About a year..."

Jack's eyes drifted down to the edge of Jackson's shirtsleeve. Just visible under the hem was the bottom edge of a Special Forces tattoo. He recognized the design, although he didn't have one himself -- he'd never been part of the crowd that worked their way from bar to whore house to tattoo parlor and back again. He'd had a wife at home, and then a son.

Jackson laughed again at something Sam said, and Jack watched the humor bring the corners of Jackson's mouth up and crinkle the skin around his eyes while leaving the eyes themselves completely untouched. Jack knew Daniel's moods well, and for all his banter, humor was the least of what Major Jackson was feeling.

The sense of unease Jack had been harboring found its raison d'être.

Special Forces operatives got a bad rap in the movies, and it had always irritated Jack. Most of the men who served their country in Spec Ops were brave, dedicated, patriotic, and ultimately, stable, although perhaps somewhat hard-core. But there wasn't a lot of room for insanity in the field, and rogues tended not to last long.

But there was some room for the men that were more interested in adrenaline than in the cause or the goal. There was a place for men that got into it too deep to get out -- men who, for whatever reason, slowly began to trade 'sensation' for 'feeling.'

When had that happened? When had Dan Jackson's compassion shattered apart and become lost? Was it the passing from foster home to foster home that had stripped him of his ability to connect? Was it already gone when the military had put that first sniper rifle in his hands? Was it the moment he first slit an enemy's throat and watched the bright red blood flow? Or was it the thousandth time?

The man before Jack was Daniel Jackson, but with his intelligence untempered by humility, his ability to read others untempered by empathy, his passions untempered by conscience.

It didn't matter when Jackson had lost those things. Jack knew that they were gone, and knowing he saw what was happening. Jackson had already initiated dominate-behavior interrogation techniques, standing while he left them sit, pacing the room so they had to turn their heads to follow him. The SF's were closer than they needed to be, and Jackson was insulting even as he was being charming.

He was so charming Jack could almost pretend the man was chatting amiably when in actuality he was playing with his food.

Meanwhile, Jack's counterpart lounged in the corner. Colonel O'Neill had been completely silent while Jackson worked the room, offering not a single quip or smart-ass comment. O'Neill knew where Jackson was going with this -- he had to -- and he was letting his 2IC be his pit bull while he kept his hands clean.

Jack could almost taste his disgust at his counterpart's behavior.

"... not wearing glasses." Sam had finished saying.

"Oh, I had eye surgery. Only a idiot would wear glasses in the field." Jackson stopped suddenly, as though he hadn't meant to say those words out loud. "Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. No offense."

"No," Daniel drew the word out, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No, I'm sure. None taken." He flicked a glance at Jack.

This needed to stop, and now. Jack stood and took a step away from the table. The SF's started forward, but a glance from Jackson stilled them.

"Well, this has been a fun time and all, but we need to be getting back. We have a contact to make." Jack grinned as though he felt lighthearted enough to make jokes. "Besides, we gotta beat that ... waterfall thing," he looked at Sam.

"Entropic cascade failure, sir." Sam corrected him smoothly with a tight smile, and stood up. Teal'c followed her, and so did Daniel.

"Right. Cascade. Point is, if we don't get back we turn into pumpkins. So where's our stuff?"

"What's the hurry, Jack?" Major Jackson leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Jack gave the Major a tight 'superior officer here' smile, and said, "I believe you mean 'Colonel?' You not being a civilian and all?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Jackson beamed a wide smile at him. "So sorry. Colonel. You're right. What's the hurry? I'm sure there's a lot we could learn from each other."

"Nah, not from us. You said it yourself, after all -- Danny's just a civilian, Teal'c's an alien that barely speaks English, I'm as washed up as they come, and Carter's bright, but she's not doing the tech-head thing full time like yours is, so I can't imagine she'd know anything yours doesn't. Sorry, Carter, but that's gotta be true." She merely nodded at him, her eyes glued to Jackson.

Major Jackson hadn't moved from the door.

"Oh, don't sell yourselves short. After all, you have those addresses you could give us." Jackson's smile grew colder as he dropped the pretense of camaraderie.

"Well, it's not like we carry them around with us." Jack said in a quiet but firm voice.

"Oh, but you do, don't you? You have him," Jackson pointed at Daniel. "I know as well as anyone how good his memory is. I'll bet he could come up with a couple of dozen off the top of his head, maybe more if he was ... motivated. Couldn't you, Danny?"

In the moment Jackson looked at Daniel, Jack made eye contact with Teal'c, and moving as one, they struck the SF's nearest to each of them. Daniel and Sam responded immediately, and struck down the guard that had been between them before his gun cleared its holster. Jack had had two guards on his side of the table, and Teal'c was moving in to take the other when a gunshot rang out in the room.

The noise was loud in the enclosed, metallic space, and Jack's ears were ringing as he collapsed, his wounded leg no longer supporting his weight.

Major Jackson motioned with his gun. "You two, over by the Jaffa. Move it," his words rang as cold as the gunshot had been loud. "I don't really need any of you to be mobile, and I have plenty of ammo."

"You don't need to do this," Daniel started, but Jackson cut him off.

"Shut up, 'Danny.' I'll be the one to decide what I need. Colonel?" The last was addressed to his CO, who brought his eyes up from his counterpart bleeding on the floor, and spoke for the first time since he'd been introduced.

"Gordan, Spencer, restrain these three and escort them to holding cells. Reyes, get someone in here to revive Ayres and Johnson, and to stop that man from bleeding all over my floor." Corporal Reyes turned and left the room, while Gordan and Spencer produced plastic handcuffs from their pockets and started restraining Sam and Daniel. Teal'c made an attempt to take the SF's out before the job was done, but Jackson's voice brought him to a stop.

"Jaffa! Kree!" Jackson was standing mere feet away from Jack, his gun trained on the man's skull. "I really should kill him just so you people will get it. I'm not messing around here, and I'm not all that sentimental. I'd like to send you all home together, if you can behave, but I'm not married to the idea. Don't push me."

Jack looked up at Teal'c, trying to convey that he'd rather die and have the team escape, but Teal'c stood down and let himself be restrained. One by one the members of SG-1 were taken away and led to solitary cells.

~~~

"Hey, Danny, sorry to keep you waiting." Jackson stepped into the bright room, leaving the two SF's following him out in the corridor. Daniel's eyes narrowed. His hands attempted a gesture, but the plastic restraints that tied his wrists to the back the chair stopped the action.

"No problem. I don't have anywhere to go ... oh, wait, I do. How about sending us all home?"

"Sorry." There was another chair on the opposite side of the table, and Jackson spun it around and straddled it, his arms crossed over the back. His movements were fluid and loose, the actions of a man comfortable with the way his body worked. Jackson's black t-shirt stretched over solid muscle, and he wore his shoulder holster with the same comfort Daniel wore his glasses.

"I'll bet you are." It irritated Daniel that with the exception of the shoulder holster, they were dressed identically, and he wished his jacket hadn't been taken.

"I might be." Jackson managed to look a little wounded. "You're not giving me any credit for compassion. I might be a nice guy."

"You might be, but you're not."

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you? Want to compare notes? Want to analyze me? Figure out where I went wrong?"

"As though there's an excuse for this," Daniel snorted. "No, I want to go home. And I want to take my teammates with me."

"Absolutely." Jackson gave a lazy, comfortable smile. "What's the address of the planet that's given you the highest technical advantage?"

"If we had any 'technical advantage' we wouldn't still be here. That was easy. Can we go now?"

There was a snort of a laugh from Jackson. "Stubborn, aren't you?"

"Well, you'd know."

"Yes, I would." Jackson's eyes narrowed as he appraised his counterpart. Daniel wondered if he was making the same expression, and let his face relax. Jackson seemed to come to a conclusion, and he leaned back a bit. "I'm not buying it, you know."

Daniel couldn't help but sigh. Whatever Jackson 'wasn't buying,' he doubted he could convince the man otherwise. "What?"

"This 'sweet and innocent' routine you seem to have going. Dr. Daniel Jackson the meek and easily offended. That routine. Do Carter and O'Neill always jump in to defend you like they did in the briefing room? I'm really supposed to believe you spend your life hiding behind other people?"

"Sam and Jack are my friends. They get offended when people are deliberately rude and insulting to me. If you had any friends, you'd be more familiar with the signs."

There was another short laugh from Jackson. "See? That's what I'm talking about -- that was mean, Danny. It comes easy to you, doesn't it? Comes easier to you than that 'simpering scholar' bit you walked in with."

"Quit trying to see yourself in me. We are not the same. I, for instance, haven't tied you to a chair and threatened you."

"Ah," Jackson held up a finger, and Daniel recognized the gesture as his own. "But I haven't given you that opportunity, either."

Daniel sighed, and changed course. "This is pointless. We aren't any threat to you, and we can't stay here or we'll die. Why not just send us home? Are you that bored?"

"Okay, first off, and for the record, I'm not buying that 'we need to go home or we'll die' line. Secondly, I am pretty bored, Danny. You and your team are the most interesting thing I've seen in months. If I had some worlds to scout, that might be a different story, though. Look, what does it matter to you -- this isn't your universe. Who do you think you're protecting?"

"From what little I know of you, I can't think the idea of letting you loose in the universe is a good idea." Daniel lost his patience as he remembered the casual way Jackson had described detonating the bomb on Abydos. "Jesus -- what about Abydos? You could have saved all those people! You could have saved Shau'ri and Skaara and Kasuf and ... " he choked on the names, as each member of the adopted community he'd been a part of floated in his mind. "You could have studied that culture, you could have learned their language, you could have ..."

"Jesus, you sound like Catherine."

Daniel glared and answered, "Good." He gave a look around the room that took in the whole of the SGC outpost. "So I'm guessing she doesn't know what sort of 'work' goes on in this place?"

"Catherine Langford? Nah, she passed away a little while after we got back from Abydos. Had a heart attack one night; died in her bed. Sad."

There was a dark smirk on Jackson's face, and slowly, sickeningly, Daniel made the interpretation. "You ... you killed her. Catherine's heart ... is fine. I just talked to her last week, she ... you killed her yourself. You know she died in bed because you killed her yourself. She ..." Daniel's jaw clenched and he glared at Jackson while he struggled to compose himself. Jackson's smirk had turned into a full-fledged smile. "She knew too much. She didn't approve. She was going to go public."

"You are so bright, Danny." Jackson stood and pulled the chair from the table and sat on the table edge. "So now that we've determined what sort of man I am, let's talk again about those addresses. And while we're at it, let's talk too about your contacts and technical knowledge. Sammy can help with that, of course, but I'd be interested in anything you have to add to the subject."

Daniel felt sick inside, nearly overcome with the urge to vomit, but he knew he looked calm as he met Jackson's eyes. "There is no way in hell you're getting addresses from me. I'm going to be dead in less than two days, and I'm going to die knowing I kept you stuck in your little corner of the galaxy. If that's the last thing I can accomplish before I go, it'll be enough."

Jackson shrugged, "Fine, we'll do it your way." He reached out and with elegant fingers pulled the glasses from Daniel's face, dropped them on the floor, and stepped on them on his way around the table. The first blow came too fast for Daniel to see it, even watching for it as he was.

~~~

It was impossible for Daniel to tell how much time had passed in his quiet, brightly-lit room before the door opened.

Daniel had let his head slump forward to rest on the tabletop, not that he could really rest tied to a chair under bright lights while his friends were being tortured, but that was part of the charm of being tortured, after all.

When the door did open, Daniel didn't sit up; he didn't see the point. There was a pause unfilled by Jackson's witty repartee, and after a few moments Daniel could tell that the person in the room wasn't the Major. He raised his head, blinking at the light, and met the eyes of Colonel O'Neill.

Daniel lowered his head back to the tabletop. "Go away, Jack."

"That's Colonel O'Neill, and is that really the brightest tactic, Dr. Jackson? Antagonizing me?"

Daniel raised his head again. "Look, COLONEL, after the first couple of times, being tortured really loses its romance, and I've been tortured by the best. There's a logic to this, and in none of the possible scenarios do you people willingly let us go home. And in less than two days, we're all dead anyway. So frankly, I'm not really in the mood to play along. Go away and let me go back to my dream of Teal'c breaking you all into pieces with his bare hands." Instead of lowering his head, Daniel glared at O'Neill defiantly.

The Colonel met his gaze, and after a pause shook his head. "That really isn't one of the possible scenarios, Dr. Jackson. Your Jaffa did serious injury to several of my men and he's been ... restrained."

"Oh, that's really original, COLONEL. That's, what, step three in the torturing handbook? 'Be sure and mention to the separated captives what bad shape the others are in.' I'm not an idiot, COLONEL. I know they're in bad shape. You've been torturing us -- that's sort of the point." It hurt to talk around the split and swollen lip, but it was nice to have a chance to vent before the hitting started up again. Daniel didn't have any illusions about his new playmate's lack of skill in the area of 'interrogation'. Colonel O'Neill's eyes narrowed.

"You're wrong, for a change. We would let you go if you just gave us some addresses."

"Oh, really? Have you told Major Jackson? He seems to think he'd like some tech intel out of Sam before she leaves." Between the lack of glasses and the eye that was swollen mostly shut, it was hard to tell for sure, but Daniel thought he'd seen Colonel O'Neill look a little uncertain.

"We just want the addresses, Dr. Jackson." The Colonel slid into the chair opposite Daniel's. "We don't want to have to hurt you."

Daniel's good eye went wide, and then he laughed out loud. "What the hell is this? Are you playing 'bad cop, good cop' with me? I've got a hint, COLONEL -- that game's only going to work if you reverse the roles. Jackson's your subordinate. He's not running this facility, right? If you don't want him to hurt us, then order him to stop." With another humorless laugh, Daniel shook his head. "Maybe you could even give the order before he gets to the fun bit with the knife. I'm not all that vain, but I'm not really into the 'cool battle scar' thing, either, so..."

"It isn't that simple..."

"No, of course it isn't. Spare me."

"Dr. Jackson, you have no idea how important those addresses are to us."

"Oh, I think I'm beginning to see, COLONEL." Daniel was beginning to really enjoy spitting the man's rank at him like a curse. "Even the Tok'ra have decided you're no better than rabid dogs. They're keeping you on a tighter and tighter leash. You're running out of worlds to rape and pillage aren't you? Well guess what, COLONEL? You did it to yourselves." There was no mistake that time. The phrase 'rape and pillage' had cast a shadow over the Colonel's eyes. It might not have been something most people would have seen, but Daniel knew Jack O'Neill better than he knew himself.

Almost literally, in the present case.

O'Neill didn't answer, though, and Daniel decided to press his luck.

"God, how can you live with yourself? The Jack O'Neill I know retired from the service once because he got tired of shooting people in the back. Let alone the dirty laundry you clean in this facility -- do you have any idea the amount of blood that's on your hands? Do you have any idea how many innocent lives you've destroyed? How do you look yourself in the mirror, COLONEL?" Daniel laughed bitterly and he knew if it hadn't been for the swollen lip the sneer on his face would have been uncomfortably similar to that of his counterpart. "You know, if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the vacuum sound where your soul used to be."

"I'm doing fine, thank you, Dr. Jackson." Colonel O'Neill's voice was tight.

"Are you? Really? Your CO's a back-stabbing slime-ball and your 2IC's a sociopath. How many more years is it before one of them decides you're not quite as quick as you used to be -- or one of them decides the tattered remnants of your conscience are just too annoying for words -- and you have a nice, quiet heart attack in the privacy of your own bed?"

Daniel took a breath and shook his head again. "Or would it even be that difficult? Why not just leave you stranded on some planet? The point is, that man is seriously broken and if you trust him you're as crazy as he is."

The Colonel stood up so abruptly his chair almost fell over. He grabbed it and slammed it back into place. "Your concern for my well being is touching, Doctor. But you're wrong."

"No, I'm not." Daniel said with quiet vehemence, and looked up into Colonel O'Neill's eyes. "Jack O'Neill is my best friend. I can read him as well as I can read anything. Go lie to 'Dan' if you'd like, if it makes you feel better. Keep lying to him until he slides a syringe into your arm in the middle of the night or slips the GDO out of your pocket. But don't tell me I didn't strike a nerve -- I can see it in your eyes." Daniel snorted. "Lie to yourself, even. But when I'm dead and you're dying, remember me, will you?"

With thin lips, Colonel O'Neill spun in place and slammed the door behind him as he left.

~~~

More time passed by in Daniel's bright room. If only they'd install a clock in here, he thought wryly, knowing that was exactly the reason there wasn't one. A few times he heard footsteps passing by in the hall beyond the door, and twice he heard the faint 'kawoosh' of the stargate activating.

The door opened again, and this time Daniel opened his eyes and tried to brace himself for Round Two. The wind went out of him the second his eyes settled on the figure Jackson was pushing through the door before him.

Sam.

Daniel knew the plan as soon as he saw her; he knew where this was going to go. Oh, God -- this was going to be ... Sam was a professional soldier. Daniel was sure she could hold out for the time they had. He didn't think he was going to be able to if Jackson started beating on her.

Jackson efficiently pulled Sam's arms up by the plastic restraints holding her wrists together in front of her and attached them to a hook hanging from a ceiling pipe. She already had a dark purple bruise on her jaw, and she was also missing her jacket.

Having strung up his new toy, Jackson ignored the second chair, and leaned back against the wall, one knee bent, and his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He was just out of Sam's sight unless she turned to look at him. She was choosing not to, her eyes locked instead with Daniel's, trying to burn her will into his mind.

I know, Sam. I'll try. Daniel thought the words at her, giving her a tiny nod to show that he knew the stakes. He just hoped he could withstand what was coming. Not his pain, that he could deal with, but could he let a man with his face brutalize the woman he thought of as a sister?

"All right, boys and girls, I think we know the drill here, don't we?"

Sam continued to look at Daniel, but spoke to Jackson behind her. "We're not your enemies, Daniel. This isn't necessary."

"First of all, Sammy, does the expression 'with me or against me' ring any bells? Secondly, it's Dan, not Daniel. I grew out of that when I was twelve, for God's sake."

"And it's Sam, not Sammy, Dan."

"I think of it as my pet name for you, Sammy." Jackson chuckled at the quiet fuming Sam directed at him, and reached down to pick up a bag he'd dropped by the door. "Okay, this is a simple game, but I'll go over the rules for the away team."

One by one, items were set onto the table in front of Daniel, within Sam's view. There was an assortment of items Daniel didn't recognize, then a Goa'uld healing device. Lastly, Jackson set a pad of paper and a pen on the table, then turned to Daniel.

"That's for when you start giving me addresses." Daniel wondered if he ever smirked like that. He had to assume at some point he had, but he was still hoping that there was some difference in the eyes -- that he was incapable of that exact expression, incapable of being that cold.

Still, there was pretty good evidence standing in front of him that he was capable of being exactly that cold.

"So, the rules, as I promised. Danny, I need addresses from you. When you're ready to give me any, we stop. Sammy, I need tech intel from you. When you're ready to give me any, we stop. We don't know anything about the objects I have here, but we think they have the potential to be useful." He stepped close into Sam's space, and ran the tips of his long fingers down her face from the temple to her mouth.

The touch was obscenely gentle.

"You sure you don't want to stop now, Sammy?" He reached behind him with his other hand, picking up the healing device and showing it to her. The pad of his thumb brushed over her lips. "Maybe you could just tell me what this does?"

Sam's eyes flashed and she pulled her head away from his hand. "Let us go."

"With me or against me, Sammy."

"Then go to hell," she said emphatically.

"Temper, temper, Sammy. Good girls don't use that kind of language."

She gave him a glare for an answer, and his left hand came off her face and moved back down with lightning speed, striking her across the cheek and her already bruised jaw. She grunted, but didn't cry out. It disturbed her, though, to see the flash of satisfaction in his eyes at her reaction -- as though he were pleased she wasn't going to cave on him straight off. His reaction bothered her more than the pain.

Jackson turned his back on her, and looked at his counterpart. "So, Danny, how 'bout you? Feel like saving us some time? Maybe earn your team a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card?"

"I know you're not letting us go. There's no point in pretending you are."

"No one likes a know-it-all, Danny. It's obnoxious. Besides -- I don't get anything out of you being dead, now do I?"

"You don't get anything out of us being alive, either."

"Arguing the case for your own demise, Dr. Jackson?" He turned to Sam. "Is he always this fatalistic? Or do I just bring out the Lost Little Boy in him?"

"I'm sure you bring out the best in everyone, asshole." Sam said the words with a bit of a snarl, and it cost her another hard slap.

"I told you about the language already, Sammy. Honestly, a person would think you liked it rough." The smile that moved across his face was the most ugly one Sam had seen yet, and he slowly brought his right hand up and buried it in her hair. She wasn't surprised when his grip tightened painfully and her head jerked back. Quietly, but not so quietly that Daniel couldn't hear, he purred into her ear, "Oh, that's right, you DO like it rough, don't you, Sammy?" And then he pressed his mouth into hers with more force than passion. Meanwhile, his left hand roamed over her breast, her ribs, and down her waist and leg.

Across the room Daniel had long since closed his eyes, and had started silently praying, working his way alphabetically through the gods of pantheons that only a few remembered. He tried as best he could to make it an intellectual exercise interesting enough to keep his mind from contemplating the horrific scene in front of him. He was failing.

Jackson took his time, holding her hair with that same painful grip and forcing her head back at an angle that pulled at her wrists. She was gasping when he pulled away, letting his hand drop from her hair back to her face.

"Now that was nice, wasn't it, Sammy?"

She glared at him for a few full seconds and then spat on his cheek.

He chuckled, made a fist, and took his first direct swing at her face. The blow connected, and she went backwards with it, but was kept from moving far by the plastic straps cutting into her wrists. She gasped at the impact and the lightning flash of pain that exploded through her jaw.

Daniel's eyes snapped open at the sound, and he stared at the sight of his friend struggling to put her weight back on her feet. Jackson was wiping his cheek on his sleeve. And, of course, he was smirking.

"Just for the record, Sammy, that was a pulled punch. No point in breaking bones this early in the game, and I do need you to be able to talk, after all." He stepped around behind her, running his hand down her side. "I just don't want you to think I don't know how to throw a real punch. Can't let you lose respect for me, after all, right, baby?"

Sam remained silent, and Jackson chuckled.

"Decided to quit talking to me? Does this mean the honeymoon's over?"

There was still no answer from Sam, and this raised another chuckle from Jackson. Letting his eyes meet Daniel's over Sam's shoulder, he ran his hand back up her side again, and deliberately cupped and held a breast with it before stepping away. Daniel knew the look of disgust and anger on his face was far too transparent, but he couldn't keep it off.

"Remembered any addresses for me yet, Danny?"

"Daniel, don't." Sam's voice was strong, and Daniel was glad to hear it. Jackson walked back around to face her, and raised his fist. She flinched, closing her eyes and turning her head. His fist stopped at the top of the arc, though, and he lowered it, wagging a finger at her.

"Tsk, tsk, Sammy. That's just bad manners." Then the blow came so fast Sam didn't have a chance to prepare herself before it caught her in the stomach. She cried out with pain, and the plastic cut deeper into her wrists as her body tried to double over. Blood trickled from her wrists down her arms. "Now you think about behaving better." He turned and strolled over to Daniel, running a hand carelessly through his counterpart's hair, then sitting on the edge of the table. "So? Addresses?"

Daniel pressed his lips together and met Jackson's eyes evenly.

"Fine. Everyone always thinks they want to play this game the hard way. Don't see it myself, but ah, well." He let his hand go to his waist where he pulled a knife out of its sheath. He spun it lightly in his fingers before setting it on the table. "Just to give everyone something to think about. You still paying attention, Sammy?" He said the last sentence over his shoulder to Sam, and nodded in satisfaction to see her eyes locked on them. "Good, good. Remember, Sammy, you can stop this at any time. Ready, sweetheart?"

Without breaking his gaze on Sam, Jackson shot out a hand and grabbed Daniel by the throat.

"Are you going to watch, Sammy? Or are you going to let your imagination fill in the fun parts between the sounds? Which do you think will be easier?"

With a pale face and tight mouth she stared back at him without answering.

"I'll be fine, Sam." Daniel's voice was broken off at the end by Jackson's thumb cutting into his windpipe.

"Oh, of course he will be."

The blows came hard and fast, and Daniel lost track almost immediately -- he lost track of where he'd been hit, the time that passed, lost track of everything except the unceasing pain and haze of red. Daniel couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to; the blows were coming in too fast to have allowed it. Time spun out and around him in a bizarre series of lurches and jolts -- slipping by and then freezing in place so suddenly he felt motion sickness.

By the time it was over he was gasping, coughing, and shuddering with such intensity he couldn't have spoken then, either.

Jackson pulled back and surveyed his handiwork. Daniel was hunched over from the pain, fighting to pull air into his lungs, and across the room Sam's eyes were squeezed shut. Jackson took the moment of respite to shake out his hand, then walked back over to Sam and sat on the edge of the table in front of her.

"What an amazing little soldier you are, aren't you, Sammy?" Her eyes snapped open, but she stayed silent. Jackson shook his head in mock sadness. "We never talk anymore. So, Danny," he called over his shoulder and listened to hear if Daniel had gotten his breath back. Jackson wanted him to hear, but not give him time to let the pain dim. "Can you be as good a soldier as Sammy? Can you stand up to me hurting her as well as she did to me hurting you?

"Maybe she doesn't like you as much as you like her? Or is she just tougher than you?" He paused and turned around. "We both know you're going to break, Danny. Why not do it before she gets hurt?"

Daniel's mouth opened, but it was Sam who spoke. "No, Daniel! Don't!"

She got another punch in the abdomen for her trouble, and another. In direct contrast to his fuzzy recollection of the blows that had landed on him, Daniel could count exactly the number that hit Sam, he could see -- even through his swollen eye and without his glasses -- exactly where they landed and how hard. Jackson was working his way methodically around her torso, around her back to her kidneys, and back again. Daniel watched, horrified, as Sam spat out blood, and he heard someone cry out, "NO!"

It was him.

"Stop it! I ... I'll give you addresses. Stop hurting her."

Jackson was behind Daniel's chair in a heartbeat, cutting the restraints away with a slash of the knife he'd grabbed from the table.

"Start writing," it was Jackson's command voice, hard and full of authority.

Daniel raised his hands, covered in the blood that had come from his wrists, and started scribbling Stargate symbols as fast as he could with his stiff fingers. Sam's voice seemed to echo in the small room as she begged him not to give over the information, but when he glanced up at her, the trickle of blood coming from her mouth just made him write faster.

It was insanity to think they weren't going to die here, but maybe he could stave off the inevitable for a while. In the meantime, Sam was clearly bleeding internally, and at the very least, she needed to lie down.

Jackson took the pad from him as Daniel's hands stilled, then dropped it and pulled another set of plastic handcuffs from his pocket. Crazily, Daniel had the thought that the SGC was going to go over budget with number of those damn things they were going through. Jackson had Daniel's arms behind him again, and this time the restraints cut into his flesh even without him moving.

Sam was looking at Daniel, her eyes filled with disappointment, but also with understanding. Daniel felt sick for the feeling that he'd let her down, but he'd stopped her pain for a little of the time they had left, and he couldn't set his marks much higher than that at this point. It would take them some amount of time to test the addresses, and then the whole horrible thing would start up again, but in the meantime, his friend wasn't being beaten.

So he looked back her, sad, but resolute.

Then Daniel noticed the table in front of him, and the objects that were scattered there. One of them was a healing device. Behind him, Jackson was standing up.

"Thank you so much, Danny. Now don't you wish we'd done the short version?" Jackson walked behind Sam and cut through her wrist restraints with a slash from his knife, and pushed her forward into the table. Gasping, she fell into it, then stayed there and let it support her weight.

Daniel made eye contact with Sam again, then looked pointedly at the table, and back up at her. She looked down, saw the device, and looked back up at Daniel, her eyes registering the idea.

Jackson had grabbed the pad of paper and pen and turned his back to put them into his bag. Sam reached out and cupped numb fingers over her prize, then slid it into a pocket as he was turning around. With a sweep of his arm, he knocked the devices that remained on the table into the bag as well, then shouldered the strap. His hand went into Sam's hair again, and he pulled her up.

"Come on, baby. Time to go back to your cell for a rest. We can talk about the toys later." With a shove, he pushed her towards the door.

Jackson forced Sam down the hallway and shoved her into one of the storerooms, sending her reeling against a pile of crates in the back of the room. She gasped as the impact jarred the internal injuries she'd already sustained from his fists.

"You see, Sammy, this is why girls shouldn't be in combat units. It makes men stupid." He gave her that smirk she'd hated on first sight. "Even the supposedly smart ones." Jackson drew his pistol from its holster and she raised her hands to tell him to stop.

She was still saying "No!" when the bullet tore through her abdomen. With the slow motion awareness brought on by the mind in stress, she could hear the bullet move through the crates behind her and hit the wall. Sam slumped to the ground, and Jackson blew her a kiss as he closed the door behind him and left her alone to bleed to death.

Fingers numb with the shock that was already overcoming her senses, Sam fumbled with the healing device in her pants pocket. No time, no time, no time...

No time for shock, no time for dizziness, no time for blacking out, no time for crying.

She slid the healing device over her bloody, shaking fingers and tried to focus on making it work. It flared briefly, then went out and a sob wrenched from her. No time. Her blood was soaking her clothes and wave after wave of pain-induced nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She raised her hand again, silently begging the device to activate.

Suddenly, the wound was bathed in a soft, steady glow, and the pain began to ease. The longer she kept it going, the more the pain faded and the easier it was. Gasping in relief, she let the technology do its work until finally exhaustion overcame her and she fell unconscious.

~~~

How much time had passed?

Sam blinked her eyes and looked at her wrist before remembering that Jackson had taken her watch, certainly to disorient her. Missing her watch, she couldn't know how much time had gone by, but she did know she had to move. Her body was weak from blood loss, and from injuries healed too recently and not sufficiently. It hurt to move, and she was so tired she thought she could have slept for a week, but she and her teammates didn't have that kind of time.

Hell, they didn't have any kind of time. What had Jackson been doing to them while she'd been passed out?

With a groan she couldn't suppress, Sam forced herself to sit up, and then to stand. She had to find her way to the rooms being used as cells, and try to free Jack or Teal'c. Then maybe the two of them could think about finding the third. Daniel would be the hardest to get to -- they'd probably need weapons for that.

No, she'd need weapons to get to the others, too. There been guards by the cells, hadn't there? Surely there had been, it was SOP to guard prisoners, and Jackson and O'Neill were nothing if not good captors. It bothered her that she couldn't remember -- it meant that she was still in shock, possibly, or that she had a concussion, or ... or something else. Something bad.

Something irrelevant. She had to move.

"Move, Carter!" Sam gave herself the quiet command in most authoritative voice she could muster. It sounded weak to her own ears, but she obeyed anyway, and made her way to the door. Covered with cold, half-dried blood, her clothes clung to her skin. She tried to wipe her hands off on the front of her pants, but the effort was futile.

The hallway was empty, thanks be to whatever gods might be listening, and Sam slid down the corridor trying not to get blood on the walls as she went. The rooms that had been converted to cells had been storage rooms and labs in the original facility, and Jackson had pushed her into a storage room, but which room -- and which direction were the cells? The maze of the facility stretched out around her.

Sam heard the slightest of sounds from behind, and before she could react she was pinned to the wall, her arm wrenched behind her and the healing device pulled from her hand. She gave a gasp of pain as her freshly-healed wounds protested the rough treatment, and she choked back a sob as she heard a voice she'd come to detest whisper in her ear.

"Did you really think I wouldn't miss it?" Impossibly, his voice was even more arrogant than before. "I knew it was a healing device -- the Tok'ra wouldn't confirm it, but I knew if I gave you the chance you'd want to show off. Now, you're going back to your cell for a bit while I wrap some things up with your oh-so-charming CO." Jackson half-dragged, half-marched her down the hallway. "And then you and I are going to have another little chat about how this device works."

After depositing Sam back in her cell and restraining her, Jackson stopped by to check on his counterpart. Daniel was leaning forward, his head on the table when Jackson walked in, grabbed him by his hair and pulled him into a sitting position. He waited for a beat to let Daniel's eyes adjust, then tossed the healing device, smeared with drying blood, casually onto the table.

"That was almost clever, Danny. Almost." Jackson smirked as Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Fortunately for the home team, I have more practice at espionage than you do."

"Lucky you."

"Yes -- lucky me."

"I'd still rather be me than you, all things considered."

Jackson glanced at his watch, beamed a cold smile at his captive, and raised his eyebrows. "Ah, but the night's young, Danny. We'll see if you stick to that theory. Those addresses you gave me didn't pan out, by the way, so we're going to have to start from scratch. Now you rest up and I'll be back as soon as I'm done chatting with 'Jack' and his bad knee." Jackson laughed at the murderous glare that was leveled at him, scooped the healing device back up in his hand, and left the room.

~~~

The ordinary noises of his base floated into Colonel O'Neill's office trough the open door and he stared at the paperwork on his desk. The paperwork was far from getting done, as O'Neill's mind was back in the interrogation room with Dr. Jackson.

With Daniel.

The similarities were more unsettling than the differences. If the man tied to the chair hadn't set his jaw that way, or didn't get that certain tone in his voice when he started to lose his temper, O'Neill could have written them off as completely separate people.

O'Neill had seen his second tortured. Jackson had drawn upon a seemingly inexhaustible well of rage and fury filtered through the lens of his staggering intellect. He'd bribed, sneered, snarled and ranted, but he'd never broken.

Perhaps that's part of it, O'Neill thought. Maybe he just wants to see if he can break his double. The immovable object and the irresistible force. Maybe it's the challenge. If so, Jackson was doomed to fail -- there was no way Daniel would break -- especially if what they had said about being time delineated was true. All Dr. Jackson had to do was going to keep giving them faulty addresses until his time ran out. In the meantime, he was too stubborn, too worried about his friends, too absolutely certain he was in the right for anything Jackson did to him to touch his resolve.

And Daniel was right, which was something he was probably even more used to than Major Jackson was.

Or maybe it was the differences that were the most unsettling.

[Jack O'Neill is my best friend.]

When was the last time he had someone he called a friend? Kawalski, before he died on Abydos? Kawalski was a subordinate, but they had done things together, told each other things, been there for each other. It was a strained friendship, sometimes, with O'Neill giving the orders, but it was friendship of a sort.

[Jack O'Neill is my best friend. I can read him as well as I can read anything.]

Could Kawalski have read him like that?

No.

Did Jackson read him that well?

God, he hoped not.

[...if you trust him you're as crazy as he is.]

Surely it had been an accident, that mission four months ago. O'Neill went over Jackson's report in his head again, looking for inconsistencies. Jackson's team had done everything they could, right? They just hadn't been able to come back for him. Lantash and Jolinar had come to help find him, not to confirm the kill, right?

There were no inconsistencies. There wouldn't be any. O'Neill could write a seamless Black Ops cover -- he knew damn well Jackson could do it in his sleep.

But that didn't mean he had.

[Jackson's your subordinate. He's not running this facility, right?]

He wasn't? There had been a time when O'Neill had made decisions -- if he concentrated he could remember it. But that time had been before Maybourne and Jackson had come up with the idea of an SGC base outside the Pentagon's watchful eye, it had been before the Abydos mission, it had been before Charlie picked his gun up off the kitchen counter. Sometime after the sound of the gunshot, some part of O'Neill's mind had gone to sleep and not woken up.

Maybourne sent half his memos straight to Jackson and Makepeace. When had that become normal?

[Your CO's a back-stabbing slime-ball and your 2IC's a sociopath.]

"Hey, Colonel."

Speak of the sociopath...

Jackson dropped himself gracefully into the chair opposite his CO's desk. "I haven't been by the Jaffa's cell lately. Any word?"

"He's still restrained."

"Good. Healing?"

"Yes."

"Amazing. What a waste." There was a knock on the doorframe, and both men looked up as Major Makepeace stuck his head through the open door, then stepped in.

"Hey, Dan. Sir." O'Neill nodded. "Having any luck?" Makepeace had addressed the question to the Major, and Jackson shook his head. "Oh, well, you will. Are they still sticking to that story about dying here if they don't get back?"

"Yeah, but that's ridiculous. It makes sense, I guess, in a science-fiction kind of way, for there to be problems with two of the same people occupying the same place, but '48 hours' sounds a little too arbitrary for my taste. I'd think it would happen immediately or maybe over years. But 48 hours? I'm thinking they made that part up."

"You still planning on coming over for poker Friday?"

"Yeah, I'll be ready for a break by then, as long as the Colonel doesn't need me," he glanced at O'Neill before turning back to Makepeace. "And I don't want to miss picking up my second paycheck." Dan grinned. "If Kahler doesn't figure out the meaning of 'poker face' I should have my bike paid off in another couple of months." He rose and clapped a laughing Makepeace on the shoulder as the two of them left.

O'Neill had never been invited to poker night.

[...if I close my eyes, I can almost hear the vacuum sound where your soul used to be.]

~~~

Sam woke up from a dream of water-skiing to find herself tied to a cot in plastic wrist restraints. In the dream her arms had ached from holding onto the ski rope; now that she was awake they ached from being held over her head. For that matter, her entire body ached and she was weak beyond belief, but at least the throbbing and spinning in her head had stopped. She realized that despite the pain she was thinking clearly, and it gave her a measure of comfort.

Tilting her shoulders, Sam looked around the room she was being kept in. It was one of the labs the SGC staff wasn't using. There was a counter and sink covering the span of one wall, pipes running the length of the ceiling, and the light fixtures were the old ones left by the base's previous tenants.

Watching the lights for a few moments, Sam's tired mind traced down the familiar path of questions it always did when faced with alien technology. How did it work? Where was the power source? Was it electricity as she knew it? Were there wires in the wall? No -- that one she could answer -- the light fixture may be alien, but it was being run off power from the conduit running down the wall.

Sam ran her eyes the length of the conduit, from its origin at the light fixture to its terminus at the retro-fitted light switch inches from the metal door-frame.

Metal. Electricity.

An idea began forming in her head, but the first order of business was to get free. The plastic restraints were tough, but they weren't as tough as metal. All she needed was a jagged edge on the cot's frame... there was a bolt and the end of a screw. Not much, but good enough. Sam focused her attention on sawing the plastic across the screw's threads and the edge of the bolt. This was going to take some time.

Sam was shaking with exhaustion when at last the restraints broke free, but the snap of the plastic was the first sound of freedom and a rush of adrenaline hit her.

Now, the light switch.

The edge of her belt buckle made a passable screwdriver, and Sam gave herself the luxury of mentally sneering at Jackson for leaving her a tool. The light switch box opened with a minimum of fuss, and she cursed silently as she saw the wires. Only 110. Well, 110 could stun, even kill. She just needed to make sure the current traveled through the guard's body. She contemplated the scenarios while she worked the wires, praying as she went.

At last, time for the moment of truth. The room was dark, and she stretched back out on the cot, putting her hands back above her head.

"Guard!"

No answer.

"Guard! Damnit, I know you're out there. I want to talk!"

After a pause, the door opened.

"What?" Bless him, he'd left his hand on the doorknob.

Just keep it there, Airman, Sam thought at him. Out loud she answered, "I want to talk."

"What happened to the lights?"

"I don't know. They went out...some time ago. I don't know." She tried to make her voice sound weak and scared, tried to hide her impatience.

Back-lit by the hallway lights, Sam watched the guard's right hand move up and make contact with the hot-wired metal switch plate. The electricity arced brightly in the dark, and Sam watched its dance from right hand, arm, body, left arm and down to the left hand, still clasping the metal doorknob. Convulsively, the left hand kept its grip on the doorknob, but after a handful of seconds the right shook free of the switch plate and broke the connection. The man slumped to the ground.

Sam pulled him into the room and shut the door. She checked for a pulse and found one, weak but steady. She slipped his gun out of his holster, and considered her options. If she shot him, the sound would likely bring others. She couldn't take the whole base from this room. She needed the rest of her team, and she needed them to be armed. Meanwhile, though she couldn't shoot the guard, she couldn't leave him to get up and sound an alarm, either.

So far everyone Sam had seen seemed to have plenty of restraints. The SF's pulling them out after Jack had been shot had been her first clue that Jackson had never intended to let them go. She searched her guard's pockets and found two sets. She almost screamed with joy.

The cot was bolted to the floor; clearly enough people were interrogated in the base that someone had felt it was necessary to not only have the cot moved in, but also fixed in place. Sam restrained one of the guard's wrists to a cot leg, then pulled his arms apart and secured the other to a crosspiece in the frame. He was becoming less groggy, and with a small amount of fumbling, she managed to undo his belt and gag him with it.

Restraining a man in almost total darkness had proven to be a little difficult, and Sam wasn't entirely sure of her work. She crossed to the light box, and carefully tapped the loose wire back into place that would get the power back to the lights. Blinking as her eyes adjusted, Sam surveyed her captive more closely.

Each restraint was secure, but the belt wasn't going to hold. She tore a strip from the hem of her shirt, and traded it out for the belt. Better. He was fully conscious by the time she was done, and glaring at her over the gag.

"Sorry." She wasn't really, but it seemed the thing to say.

Weapons.

There had been a zat gun on the counter in the lab where they'd first arrived. The healing device had come from there, too, and maybe Jackson had returned it. If so, she could heal Jack's leg when she found him and he'd be a hell of a lot more mobile. She didn't know what kind of shape Teal'c would be in, and she was trying not to think of Daniel.

Weapons. The healing device. Then Jack, or Teal'c. One bridge to cross at a time.

~~~

Jack looked up when his door opened, and was surprised to see O'Neill entering backwards, dragging a body.

O'Neill dragged in the body of the SF, and closed the door behind him. Moving quickly, he went to the head of the cot and sliced through the restraints with his knife. Jack had followed his movements with narrowed eyes, and sat up rubbing his wrists.

"So?" Jack's voice was a little hoarse.

"So this is a rescue."

"'Bout damn time."

O'Neill inspected the damage to Jack's leg. He didn't know how well his counterpart was going to be able to walk. He pulled out an extra zat and tossed it onto the cot next to Jack, hesitating only a second. Jack was in no condition to get his team out of here alone; he needed O'Neill's help. Dryly, O'Neill replied, "I'm throwing away my career here. Probably my life, too. You could try to manage and feel a little grateful. Or at least sound it."

Jack picked up the zat and hefted its comforting weight in his hand. "Grateful?" He made a dark face. "I'm grateful you remembered where you keep your balls, but I'd be a damn sight MORE grateful if you could have remembered it before you let your pit bull shoot me. And the room service here sucks, by the way. Should I be 'grateful' it wasn't worse?" The tirade was punctuated by a gasp at the end as Jack attempted to stand and only partially succeeded. He waved off help at first, but fell back onto the cot. Between the original gunshot wound, the additional attention the leg had received from the Major, and being weak from blood loss, Jack wasn't up to bearing his own weight.

Cursing, Jack accepted the arm up that O'Neill offered, and let the other man help support him.

"Where's Teal'c?" Jack asked. "Is he okay?"

"Across the hall; that's where we're going next. And, I think so, yes...he was injured pretty badly, but he's been healing."

Jack cursed silently and hoped Teal'c was in better shape than he was. Jackson had wanted addresses and tech intel, which meant it was likely the other two members of his team had taken the brunt of the damage. "Where's Carter and Daniel?"

"Carter's farther down the hall. Dr. Jackson's closer to the gateroom."

"Are they going to be able to walk?"

There was a pause, and O'Neill didn't meet Jack's stare. "I don't know."

The trip across the hall hurt like hell, but eventually they were pushing open the door to Teal'c's cell and stepping around the body of the guard that had been posted. Teal'c was bound by thick leather restraints on his arms, legs, neck and waist, and he was gagged. His eyes opened at the sound of the door, and he looked from one Colonel to the other, taking in the injured leg as O'Neill left Jack leaning against a wall. Teal'c met Jack's eyes, then looked at O'Neill, who was crossing to his side. Jack nodded at Teal'c, and waved in O'Neill's direction.

"It's okay, Teal'c. He's helping." He paused and added, "FINALLY." O'Neill didn't respond. "Why is he gagged?"

"He bit one of the SF's. Reyes needed twelve stitches."

"Cool." Jack ignored the look O'Neill gave him and grinned at Teal'c.

Teal'c pulled the gag from his mouth as soon as he had a hand free, and bent to work on a set of leg restraints as soon as the second came loose. Once free he leveled a hard stare at O'Neill.

"Why did you not free me when you incapacitated and brought in the guard?"

O'Neill looked at Jack. "Thought you said he didn't speak English?"

"I lied," Jack responded as cheerfully as he could manage. "He knows bigger words than I do."

O'Neill turned back to Teal'c. "I didn't know how well I could talk to you, and I figured you might try and kill me unless he," O'Neill gestured at Jack, "told you not to."

Teal'c considered that for a moment and O'Neill thought he could hear the Jaffa debating the virtues of killing him anyway. Teal'c met Jack's eyes, and Jack must have heard the same thoughts because he said with continued cheerfulness, "Nah, you can always kill him later."

Teal'c nodded once, and slid stiffly off the bed he'd been restrained to. Jack could see the purple bruises that tattooed his body under the darkness of Teal'c's skin. Junior'd been doing his job, but he still had a ways to go. At least there weren't any broken bones; Jack was looking forward to leaning on someone he knew he could trust.

Now to go get Carter.

Teal'c took the zat gun Jack offered him, and the trio moved unmolested down the hallway. Scanning the corridors, Jack remembered an earlier question.

"Jackson said you've had security problems." Jack said quietly. "Why no cameras in the halls?"

O'Neill snorted. "We don't have any security problems. No one knows we're here."

"Why was he carrying a gun?"

"To shoot you with, obviously."

Jack quit concentrating on walking long enough to scowl at O'Neill, but the scowl was ruined as his feet curled underneath him and he stumbled against Teal'c's side. With a groan and a steadying arm from Teal'c, Jack fell back into step. "And the cameras?"

"Jackson nixed them. Didn't want footage of any evidence."

"Jesus. Who's running this damn base?" O'Neill ignored him and stopped at a corner, holding up his hand.

'One guard,' he signed, and stepped around the corner, zat leveled and ready to fire. He stopped abruptly in mid-motion, and dropped his arm. Jack wondered if the jig was already up.

"The guard stationed at Carter's door is gone."

Jack and Teal'c rounded the corner to see the same empty hall O'Neill had seen. They made their way to the door, and opened it.

The trussed up guard looked at them, and his eyes went wide at the sight of the base's commanding officer standing with two of the prisoners. He looked at the restraints on his wrists, then back up at O'Neill, who gave a low whistle.

"She's good."

"Yep." Jack couldn't keep the pride out of his voice; he barely managed not to yell, "Go, Carter!" O'Neill took in the smug look on Jack's face then turned back to the incapacitated guard.

"Sorry, Currie. Someone will be back for you."

Once out of the room and around a corner, O'Neill asked Jack, "She'll have gone for weapons, then back to free you and Teal'c?" Jack nodded. "We need to get to the labs, then."

~~~

Standing in the same mirror-walled room where they had begun their stay at the SGC's outpost, Sam's eyes slid over the countertops, looking for zats, the mirror controller, and anything else she could use. The lab's counters were piled with bits of tech in various states of assembly, and she didn't have time to search carefully. Across the room she saw the mirror controller, and noted its location while she continued to look for weaponry.

She heard a loud crash as the door was thrown open behind her, and Sam spun to face the intruder. Major Jackson burst into the room with his gun raised, his customary smirk made even darker by the genuine anger that was flashing in his bright blue eyes.

"You're beginning to be a real pain in the ass, Sammy."

There was no chance she could get her gun drawn before he could fire. Sam stepped back, her hands bracing her as she ran into the counter behind her. Her eyes went wide, and a tremor crept into her voice. "Don't...don't hurt me. I ... I won't resist." Her hands fluttered over the devices behind her on the counter, searching out the one she'd seen just before the door had opened.

He snorted and leveled the gun at her chest. "No, Sammy. I know you won't. Now be a good girl and get down on the floor. Legs spread, hands on your head. You know the position. Go for your gun and I'll shoot you."

Her hands still behind her, Sam finished sliding the ribbon device into place and raised her hands to her head and started to sink to her knees. The cool metal felt heavy under her fingers. Jackson lowered his weapon and took the first step towards her. Looking up and meeting his eyes, she raised her hand, spread her palm wide and focused on activating the device.

Jackson recognized the danger a split second before the energy blast hit him square in the chest and sent him flying into the opposite wall. Sam came up out of her crouch and took the handful of long, determined strides needed to get her to Jackson's body.

"Congratulations, you arrogant prick," Sam snarled at the unconscious man. "You just got out-maneuvered by a GIRL."

She was literally shaking with rage.

Besides naquada in the bloodstream, thought and emotion activated a ribbon device. In order to fire it, the user had to hate and have a desire to cause pain in such intensity that it became real. Having let the genies out of the bottle, Sam wasn't sure she could get them back in. She was in pain, she was scared, and she was livid with fury. She wanted to kick him, to raise her hand and fire again, to see him beaten into a bloody pulp.

At her side, the ribbon device flared to life. Sam felt the soft seduction of it pulse through her body and sear through her mind. She raised her hand and the beam captured Jackson's face in its sensuous glow. Still unconscious, he writhed at her feet. The effect was exhilarating.

Watching the spectacle in front of her, some part of Sam's mind considered the ribbon device making real her desire to cause pain. Marveling at the power of her own rage, she wondered what it would be like to feel this sort of power all the time, to walk through life being able to cause this sort of pain with a touch and a thought -- and then she stared at Jackson as her perception shifted. There was a flash of pity in her, brief, but long enough to short-circuit the fury and stop the device's energy from pouring out.

She'd seen what that power had been like in Jackson's cold, empty eyes. Watched him strike like a rattlesnake because he would rather destroy her team than live with the thought that he could have had even the semblance of a family that they represented. Could have had, and yet hadn't.

Swallowing the force of her anger, Sam bent and took the gun from Jackson's nerveless fingers and tucked it into the belt at the small of her back. He was still wearing the knife in a belt sheath, which she also took, and then on impulse, she checked his boot and found a small blade there as well. She shook her head as she took the last knife, wondering what sort of paranoia would drive a man to walk around his own base with that much weaponry. She checked his pockets for the healing device he'd taken from her, but it was no longer on him.

She still wanted to kick him, hard. The impulse was hard to put down.

A last, quick scan of the counter tops yielded the zat she'd seen earlier, although it had been moved. The healing device was gone, perhaps he'd taken it to his office, but Sam didn't know where that was.

Finally she stood, snatched the mirror controller off the counter, and slid it into a pocket. Raising the zat, Sam exited the lab, her back to the wall, and went off for the rest of her team. Moving as quickly as she could down the hallways, dodging the occasional soldier, she moved in the direction of the cells where she and the others were being held.

Sam rounded the last corner to the corridor where her cell had been, leading with her zat. She aimed it immediately at Colonel O'Neill when she saw him walking a few steps from Teal'c and Jack. O'Neill instinctually raised his weapon in response, and there was a second of a stare-down before Jack raised his head and saw her.

"Whoa! Hold fire!"

Confused, she looked back and forth between them. "Sir?"

"Hold fire, he's a friendly." He paused. "FINALLY." He glared at O'Neill who lowered his weapon, but didn't take his eyes off Sam. Hesitantly, she lowered her zat and looked back around the corner before taking a few quick steps to join them.

Jack found his teeth grinding as he did a visual assessment of his 2IC. She was pale, far too pale, and her face and arms were covered with bruises that looked too old and yellow to be recent, and yet had to be. Dried blood coated her arms in rusty ribbons from her wrists, but there was no sign of the injuries that had created the blood. Most disturbing was the bullet hole in the front of her shirt and the massive amount of dried blood on her clothes. Had they put her in a sarcophagus? Jack looked pointedly at the hole in her shirt and met her eyes again. She shook her head dismissively.

"Healing device," she said simply. "Jackson took it, though. Sir, we don't have much time. We have to find Daniel, and I'm not sure I can remember which room he's in." She directed the last bit towards O'Neill, who gestured slightly.

"I know where he is. Jackson's probably with him."

Sam shook her head. "No, he's not. 'Major Jackson's' been incapacitated." She held up the palm of her left hand, still encased in the Goa'uld ribbon device. Jack gave a soft whistle, and O'Neill took an involuntary step backwards.

"You can use those things?"

"Yes." Seeing that O'Neill and Teal'c had zats, she handed her zat and one of the guns to Jack. "We need to move, sir."

"Agreed." He slid the gun into his belt then he and Teal'c turned back in the direction of O'Neill's gesture, and the group headed down the hall. "Kind of a shame, though. I wanted to shoot that son of a bitch."

"He's between us and the mirror, sir. You can shoot him on the way out."

They moved as quickly as they could, avoiding a few guards, zatting a couple others and hiding the bodies. Jack started to suggest that disintegrating them would be safer, but held back. O'Neill didn't have much left, but these men had been under his command. They were clearly the most "morally flexible" the SGC had to offer, but they were still his men, and he wasn't going to kill them even on his way out.

The two sentry guards fell under blasts from Teal'c and O'Neill's zats, and he unlocked the door to Daniel's interrogation room. Teal'c and O'Neill each pulled one of the SF's into the room, and Jack and Sam traded a quick look before the door opened, and they tried to brace themselves.

Daniel's chin was on his chest was they first walked in, but he opened his eyes at the sound of the door -- or rather, he would have opened his eyes if he could have. As it was, only one would open, the other was swollen shut. There were large, angry bruises covering his face, and finger marks stood out on his neck. Sam knew there were bruises covering his chest as well, but they remained hidden under his shirt.

O'Neill let go of the SF's unconscious body, and started to walk to Daniel's side to free him, but was passed by Sam. Curtly she said as she stepped around him, "I'll do that," and he paused in step, startled by the insubordination in her tone. He could no more have imagined the textbook perfect Captain Carter her knew using that tone with him as he could imagine ... as he could imagine her raising her hand and using a Goa'uld ribbon device.

Of course it was also true, O'Neill realized, that he wasn't her superior officer and that he had given her very little reason to respect him.

Sam knelt by Daniel's chair, and the one bloodshot eye not swollen shut opened and focused on her for a second before closing. In a rough voice he said quietly, "Great. Now I'm hallucinating."

"Daniel, I'm real. I'm sorry... these restraints are tight it's going to hurt a little when I take them off."

He laughed mirthlessly, and she frowned in sympathy as she tried to work her knife into a position to cut the plastic ties away. Daniel's wrists were slick with blood from struggling in them, and it was hard to see. She worked as quickly as she dared, talking softly to him as she maneuvered the knife.

Across the room, Jack gestured towards the empty chair and Teal'c pulled it to them. Jack sank into it gratefully. His muscles had loosened, and between that and the adrenaline he thought he could walk a little on his own. Before it came to that, though, he wanted some rest.

O'Neill saw Daniel take in the sight of the two colonels, and he waited for the same sort of verbal jab from Daniel that he'd been getting from Jack. He waited for some sort of gloating, some sort of claim of victory. None came, and from that small thing he realized the extent of the difference between Doctor and Major Jackson. While Major Jackson wanted to be right for the good of his ego, Doctor Jackson wanted to be right for the good of his people.

Daniel closed his eyes again and bowed his head with a quiet sigh.

Jack, O'Neill, and Teal'c watched Sam working on Daniel's wrists for a while in silence, then Teal'c moved to stand closer to the locked door and listen for problems. Sam was continuing to speak to Daniel, and Jack said quietly to O'Neill, "So is your Carter as dirty as the rest of you?"

O'Neill paused before answering. "I wouldn't have said so, but," he paused and made a face. "She's been dating Jackson for the last few months, so who knows? It isn't as though she's stupid enough not to know what he is."

"Ewww." Jack dropped his head and muttered to himself, "Lunatic fringe, huh, Carter?" Then his head snapped back up as he heard Daniel gasp with pain. Carter fumbled and almost dropped her knife. Daniel's head came up at the same time as Jack's had, and their eyes met across the room. Jack tried to smile.

"You okay, Danny?"

"Oh, peachy, Jack. Want to go skiing this weekend?"

Jack gave a short bark of a laugh. "Quit stealing my humor gig. Go find your own schtick."

Daniel grinned a little at Jack through his swollen mouth. Jack could see a ghost of a grin on Sam's pale face, too, despite her concentration on her morbid, bloody task. A sideways glance let Jack know that even Teal'c had let go of a bit of tension. For just a moment, they all hurt a little less.

Sam gave a quiet but triumphant cry just as Daniel gave another gasp of pain, and the restraints came away. He brought his hands up to rub his wrists, then took in the deep cuts that surrounded the joints and settled for flexing them instead.

Sam stood and offered him a hand. "Can you walk, Daniel?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little stiff." Daniel wondered how long he'd been tied in the chair. He ached all over and the muscles in his legs were cramping. He stood slowly and flexed his legs in turn. "Yeah, I'm fine; I can walk. Do we have our GDO and the mirror controller?" Jack hated the slurred sound in Daniel's voice, and a part of his brain he couldn't shut down ticked off the causes: throat hoarse from screaming, tongue a touch swollen from the strangulation hold, mouth dry from dehydration and some blood loss....

"Your GDO is in Major Jackson's office with your staff weapon," O'Neill said to Daniel and Teal'c, "and some of your other gear. We'll need to get across the gateroom, though, and back. Maybe you should stay here. If the men I zatted are still out, no one may know I'm involved..."

He trailed off as the alarms sounded.

Both Colonel O'Neill's cursed, and Jack stood. He waved off Teal'c as the big man came forward to help him. "That's for us, I assume?" he said, drawing his zat.

"Yes. And me. We've got to stop them from dialing out. There aren't many men here, but if they call in reinforcements we're dead."

Teal'c was already opening the door and looking down the hallway. It was clear, but they spotted soldiers turning the corridor before they were all out of the room. O'Neill attempted to bluff his former subordinates, but they were aiming MP5's at him when blasts from Teal'c's zat and Sam's ribbon device tore through the group and left them out cold. Moving as fast as possible, they headed towards the gateroom.

SG-1 plus an extra Colonel entered the gateroom with an explosion of their Goa'uld energy weaponry and took cover behind a stone and metal control console as the sound of automatic gunfire filled the air. Jack signaled to Teal'c, who ran for a doorway, and O'Neill made it behind a stack of supply crates on their other flank.

Colonel O'Neill watched the as the four extra-dimensional interlopers began taking out the best-trained, most ruthless men his own SGC had had to offer. He had honestly not thought it was possible; he'd thought it was over when the alarm sounded. The four-man team was bloody, bruised, angry, and had obviously been deeply shaken by Major Jackson's interrogations. And Jackson had been right, they were an insane combination: an alien, a civilian, a physicist, and ... well, the Colonel knew how washed up he was.

And yet, despite it all, they moved like a well-oiled unit -- moved with a fluidity and comfort level he would have been proud to have seen in any team he commanded. The Colonel watched them work as they took out their opponents cleanly and quickly, and he saw they were responding to each other's body language as much as to the given hand signals. Exhausted, barely able to stand, they covered for each other, and took up each other's slack as though it were second nature.

They all shot straight, they all kept their heads, and the sheer force of determination in their eyes was unsettling even to the combat-hardened soldiers that were attacking them.

Jack gasped as his leg finally gave out, and without hesitation or discussion, Teal'c moved back in to take his weight while Sam and Daniel covered him as they re-positioned. The looks that passed from each to the others were filled with concern even as they efficiently made the adjustments. Then Sam separated under the cover fire of her teammates to cover the flank Teal'c had left.

Daniel was struggling a little, blinking in an attempt to keep his open eye clear and focused, but he missed seeing a new attacker come up on his blind side. He slumped down instantly, though he winced with pain, when he saw Jack's quick hand signal mark the new threat. Teal'c, seeing the exchange from his peripheral vision, spun and took out the new target before Jack had aimed.

Finally, Colonel O'Neill saw what it was that had set his 2IC off as soon as he'd set eyes on the team. They weren't a 'team' -- they were a family. They cared about each other. O'Neill could imagine the group of them lounging in his living room, telling jokes and drinking beer, he could imagine them holding bedside vigils when one was injured, he could imagine them talking after a bad day. He could imagine them doing things for each other that no one had done for him since Sara had gotten disgusted and walked out.

O'Neill's mouth filled with the taste of bile as envy washed over him.

The last of the gateroom defenders had clustered themselves behind another stack of crates on the far side of the gate. Jack and Teal'c drew their fire while Sam moved to correct her angle, then stood and fired the ribbon device. Boxes and men flew. Corporal Reyes, having not been in the center of the blast was struggling to get up when he was hit with a blast from Teal'c's zat and went still. The room was strewn with unconscious men, as though a giant child had left dolls behind when called for supper. After the sound of the gunfire and zat blasts, the room was eerily still. Into the silence O'Neill spoke.

"You three stay here," he said, gesturing to Sam, Jack and Daniel. "Teal'c and I are the most mobile. We'll get the equipment and return." Teal'c looked to Jack to verify the command, and Jack nodded. At a run Teal'c and O'Neill headed across the gateroom and towards the offices.

~~~

Sam made another attempt with the controller and finally Jack's cap came into view.

"Sure you don't want to shoot him before we leave, Colonel?" Sam gestured to Major Jackson against the wall, struggling to regain full consciousness. Jack couldn't miss the tone in her voice; she'd meant it to sound like a joke, but there was no doubting she wouldn't regret his death.

Jack met O'Neill's eyes and then answered Sam in a voice as tired as she had ever heard him use. "Nah. It's time to go, kids." Colonel O'Neill's own tired voice stopped SG-1 as they started to turn to the mirror.

"I don't suppose you know of a good place to hide? Jackson's got a long memory, and he's going to want my organs for this." There was a quirk of a smile, but the attempt didn't last long. Daniel took a step forward, and pulled a pen and paper from the pocket of his newly-recovered jacket. Forcing his bloody, stiff fingers around the pen, he scratched out as address as he spoke.

"Go here. You won't see them; they'll watch you before they make contact. The forest is sacred, don't try and kill any living thing in it for food or they won't talk to you. You'll think they're simple, but they have the power to keep you safe." He pulled the paper off the pad and handed to the Colonel. "Trust me. You'll be safe." His raw voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed.

"Nox?" Jack asked, and Daniel nodded. "Don't be sarcastic," Jack added. "They may look dumb, but they're way smarter than you. Honest." Jack grinned, and the Colonel grinned back at him, a fraction of the fatigue fading from his eyes. "Hey, do you have a pack ready?"

O'Neill shook his head, and Jack made a gesture to Teal'c. "Teal'c, give him yours." He looked back at his counterpart. "There's enough MRE's to last a week -- more if you're careful. It may take awhile before the natives wanna talk." Teal'c removed the pack and handed it to the Colonel.

"Don't kill anything," Daniel repeated. "And when you're ready to move on, they'll help you find someplace else -- unless you've ticked them off and they think you need to learn patience," he added the last bit an attempt at a smile through his battered face. Colonel O'Neill returned the smile as much as he was able, then the team touched the mirror, and with a flash of energy were gone from his life.

He saw them reach the other side, then Sam made a motion with the controller, and the mirror went dark.

Leaving the room, O'Neill paused in front of Major Jackson, who had pulled himself to a sitting position. He could barely speak, but his eyes locked with Colonel O'Neill's and he hissed, "There isn't a place in the universe you can hide from me, old man."

"Oh, shut up, Danny," O'Neill said as he zatted his former second-in-command. With a convulsion and a gasp of pain Jackson returned to unconsciousness.

O'Neill zatted a few more reviving soldiers on his way back to the gate, made a search of the room for conscious personnel, and zatted the security cameras before he stepped up to the DHD. The last thing he needed was to be followed to what he hoped would be a safe haven.

Carefully he pressed the chevron symbols and waited for the iris and the gate to open, thinking as fingers touched the buttons of the house and belongings he would never see again. He was glad he still carried a picture of Charlie in his wallet -- it'd be the only he had, now. With its customary kawoosh the gate flared to life, and O'Neill paused just a moment, wondering if the man he'd allowed to be beaten for the better part of the last day was sending him into a trap.

[Trust me. You'll be safe.]

Shouldering Teal'c's pack, the Colonel stepped through the event horizon without a backwards glance.

Epilogue

Daniel looked out at the distant stars, then back to the glasses in his hands. Below him, he could hear the laughter in Jack's living room step up in intensity.

The last round of drinks must have kicked in, he thought, and then he heard uneven footsteps. That'll be Jack, coming to check on me.

It was Jack, and soon they were leaning against the rail together, looking at the glasses in Daniel's hands. Jack ventured a guess.

"Headache?"

"Uh, no. No, just..." his voice trailed off and he frowned, then looked sideways at Jack. "Jack, do you think I should have eye surgery? I mean, I know it can be done, I just hadn't thought of it before. I could probably see 20/20, and we'd never have to worry about these again. It is kind of stupid to be wearing glasses in the field, isn't it?"

Jack looked at the new pair of glasses in Daniel's hands for a moment. Even after the recovery time they'd had, Daniel was still processing -- they all were, come to that. Looking at Daniel looking back at them with the eyes of a killer had been deeply disturbing for the entire team, and Sam in particular was harboring some ghosts. It was a given they weren't angry with Daniel, though, and just as much a given that he was feeling guilty anyway. It was one of the things that defined him as 'Daniel'.

Jack reached out and took the glasses carefully out of Daniel's hands and turned to face him. With a soft touch, he slid the ear-pieces into place and pushed the bridge up Daniel's nose until it rested properly. Jack noted that in the dark he could hardly see the last of the fading yellow bruises. Daniel smiled with soft amusement and Jack patted his cheek gently before letting the hand drop away.

"Nah, no eye surgery. At least, not for a while -- okay, Danny?"

Daniel nodded silently.

"So, have any of us ever told you how much we appreciate your being you and NOT being some psycho asshole?"

"Um, you know... I don't ... no, I'm sure no one's ever told me that."

"Trust me, Danny-boy. We do." Jack grinned in the darkness, and a new round of laughter broke out from the living room. Daniel could hear Janet and Sam giggling in unison.

Daniel looked in the direction of the sound and smiled. "What's going on in there?"

Jack laughed. "Teal'c's telling Jaffa jokes."

Daniel's mouth opened, then he shook his head. "But," he finally worked out, "Jaffa jokes aren't funny."

"Ya know, it's the damnedest thing. They are funny when you're drunk." Jack took Daniel's elbow, and maneuvering with only a slight limp began to steer him back in the direction of the party. "C'mon, kid. There are people here who want you around."

Daniel smiled with gratitude at that, and let himself be led back to the party.

FIN

Next: Shattered Reflections