Standing on the narrow wooden bench, Sam could just see through the tiny window close to the ceiling of the cellar. Shouts and screams drifted in through the late afternoon air, chilled with the onset of winter, as the Jaffa went about their business.
"They're rounding up villagers, sir," she whispered to O'Neill. He sat next to her on the bench, wrapping a make-shift bandage around his hand. "They're shouting something - I can't make it out."
With a nod of his head Jack directed Teal'c towards the window. "See if you can figure out what's going on," he ordered. The bench protested under Teal'c's weight and Sam jumped down, wincing slightly at the pain in her knee; she'd twisted it the night before, in their desperate flight through the forest.
"We know what's going on Jack," Daniel said from where he sat on the opposite side of the cramped and dark little room. His head was buried in his hands, muffling his voice. "They're going to kill them."
"We don't know that," O'Neill replied, tugging on the end of the bandage with his teeth to tighten it.
"Daniel Jackson is correct," Teal'c said then, climbing down slowly from the bench. "The Jaffa are demanding to know our whereabouts and say that four of the villagers will die in our place for each hour we remain free."
Daniel raised his head. "Four?" he asked hollowly. "Every hour?"
Teal'c nodded, his face tight with disgust. "It is a common Jaffa tactic for dealing with resistance movements."
"Jack," Daniel pleaded, "we have to do something."
"Like what?" O'Neill replied. His eyes were slits of darkness in the gloom, taut with anger and something deeper Sam couldn't quite make out. It was a look she wouldn't have wanted aimed in her direction, but Daniel stood fast.
"Well, we could give ourselves up," he suggested.
"No." Jack's tone brooked no argument, his voice as tight and controlled as ever. "We can't."
"Why not? They're going to *kill* those people, Jack. Innocent people!"
Jack said nothing, but from the way he wiped a hand over his mouth Sam knew he was tasting the bitterness of his choice. The silence between them was brittle, but at last he spoke. "And what do you think they'd do to us, Daniel, if we gave ourselves up?"
Daniel just shook his head and turned his appeal on Sam. "This is wrong," he told her quietly. "Can't you see that?"
"This whole war is wrong," she sighed, coming to sit on the floor at his side. "But I don't see that we have a choice - there's more at stake here than our lives."
"You're right," he agreed, glancing up at Jack with a chill accusation that looked out of place on his usually mild features. "There *is* more at stake here than our lives - there's the whole moral basis of our claim that we're somehow better than the Goa'uld! If we let these people die for us we'll be no better than...."
Jack jumped to his feet in the face of Daniel's accusation. "Don't you give me that shit!" he hissed suddenly. "I've heard it a million times, and it doesn't wash. War is war. It's crappy and nasty and people die. Innocent people die. And frankly," he added harshly, "better them than us! Do you have *any* idea what they'd do to Carter if they caught her?"
Daniel blinked, obviously knocked askew by the question. Sam didn't blame him; her own heart tripped over itself at his words and her eyes flashed to his face. But he was glaring at Daniel and paying her no attention. She frowned. Was he protecting her? Was that why he was refusing Daniel's appeal to save the villagers? She closed her eyes, swallowing hard against a sick feeling of dread that knotted her throat; she didn't want their lives on her head.
"What do you mean?" Daniel said at last, his voice jerking Sam out of herself and forcing her eyes back open.
"You know who's out there!" Jack snapped, pointing to the small window above them. "Apophis, that's who. And you know what he wants - to destroy Earth and to destroy the Tok'ra." O'Neill raised an eyebrow, asking if Daniel had gotten the point yet, but Daniel remained stubbornly silent. Jack's brow scrunched into a glower. "He'd get what he wanted out of Carter - about Earth and about the Tok'ra - before he killed her," he added in a quiet voice. "Don't doubt that."
Sam chewed unconsciously on her lip, disturbed by Jack's stark description of what she knew to be true. Daniel glanced over at her, silenced by Jack's words but still unconvinced. "You'd let those people die to protect yourself?" he asked her bleakly. "You think you're *that* important?"
She flinched at his words but didn't drop his gaze. "We all are, Daniel," she said quietly. "You know how invaluable Teal'c's knowledge of the Goa'uld has been, and you - you've helped us forge alliances with the Tok'ra, the Asgard and countless others.... And even the Colonel," she faltered for a moment, flinging him a quick glance, "is popular with Thor."
"Thanks, Carter," he muttered, his voice touched with the humour of the gallows.
Had the situation been less bleak Sam might have smiled at his tone of wounded pride, but Daniel's haunted eyes drowned her amusement. "The villagers are Goa'uld slaves," she reminded him. "They have no power to fight them, but we do. We can make a difference."
He shook his head. "I don't want their blood on my hands," he whispered.
"It won't be," Jack snapped, climbing onto the bench to look for himself. "It'll be on my hands. I'm the one giving the orders, and I'm ordering you *all* to stay here."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"You can feel anyway you damn-well please," Jack growled. The shouting was louder now, and Sam glanced up at Jack wondering what he could see. "Sons of bitches," he muttered to himself, his fingers curling into a fist where his hand rested against the wall.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing." He turned back around and jumped down, but Sam could see the haunted look in his eyes and knew that he was lying. And so could Daniel because he was on his feet in an instant, heading for the window. Jack grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt. "Don't," he warned.
Angrily shaking free of his grasp, Daniel stepped up onto the bench and peered through the window. "No!" he whispered. "He's just a child!"
O'Neill's face was darker than Sam had ever seen it. "Get down," he hissed at Daniel, yanking hard on his arm and pulling him to the floor.
"Jack!" Daniel's wide eyes were flat with anger. "They're going to kill that boy because of us. We *have* to surrender ourselves!"
"No."
"But...!"
"I said no," he snapped. "That's an order."
Daniel just shook his head, refusing to accept it and raking a hand through his hair as he turned to Sam for support. But she could offer him none. And then the frown that creased his brow into indecision smoothed and his eyes flashed bright with defiance. "Screw your orders, Jack!" he hissed and pushed past him towards the door, intent on his own mission. But O'Neill was in no mood to give the man an inch; he grabbed his arm viciously and pulled him to a halt.
"Don't you dare," the Colonel said quietly, his voice balanced on the edge. "Don't you dare disobey my orders in the field."
"Or what?" Daniel replied, wincing slightly as Jack's fingers continued to crush into his arm. "You gonna have me court martialed?"
The muscles around Jack's eyes twitched, but otherwise his face remained cold and impassive. "I'll kill you before I let you betray this team."
Daniel didn't flinch, but compared to O'Neill's icy impassivity his face was an open book. And Sam saw grief, defiance and a towering rage written large on its pages. "How can you let them *do* this?" Daniel persisted, angry tears choking his throat. "He's just a child - he could be Charlie!"
Sam's heart stopped at the words and the room fell into a deadly silence. Jack said nothing, but his jaw twitched with tension as he met Daniel's glare with one equally fierce. Neither man moved and Sam felt her heart breaking as it was torn between them; both were right and both were wrong. At last Jack spoke, his words uttered with a clinical precision; whatever emotions Daniel had evoked, the Colonel had them under oppressive control. "We're at war," he said harshly, "winning is all that matters."
"Is it?" Daniel retorted, equally cold. "I thought we were fighting *for* something, not just against it. If we give up our humanity, we've already lost."
No one moved in the silence and Sam felt all her muscles tensing, waiting. She didn't know what for until it happened; a blast from a staff weapon. A scream, a chorus of wails. Another blast, a third, and then a fourth. They were dead. And still no one moved in the dark cellar.
"It's on your hands," Daniel said at last, in a voice that spoke of disgust and anger and betrayal as he wrenched his arm from Jack's grasp. Then his face crumpled and he snatched his glasses from his eyes before he dropped heavily onto the bench and sank his head into his hands.
Jack watched him for a long moment, his own expression dark and inscrutable before he nodded towards Carter. "Keep watch. As soon as it's dark we move out."
***
General Hammond glanced at the clock on the wall. A subtle gesture; he didn't want anyone to think he was anxious. Leadership was all about appearances - let your men see that you're living on your nerves and the game's over.
Seventeen-oh-five. Three hours since the SG-3 marines had been sent through to pull SG-1 out of the trap they'd walked into. Three hours and no word. He'd been standing in the control room, staring at the silent Stargate for at least half an hour and his muscles were aching with the suspense. How many times had he done this, he wondered? Stood here waiting for one of his teams to return against the odds? Too many to count, he realized with a sigh. The sound drew a glance from the young Captain sitting in front of him and he gave her a curt nod, deciding it was time he left these people to do their jobs. "Let me know the moment..." he began, but was immediately interrupted.
"Off-world activation, sir!"
His smile was tight-lipped. "About time. Are we receiving a signal?"
There was a pause that stretched to eternity before she replied, "Yes sir. It's SG-3."
"Open the iris," he told her, as he left at a run.
The event horizon was already bathing the gate room in its watery light by the time he arrived, surrounded by raised weapons and the familiar silence of the moments before the storm. His hands curled into fists and he flung a prayer skyward, praying that his teams would make it back in one piece. And then the storm broke.
Three marines hurtled through first, one slumped limply between his comrades. "Medic!" Lieutenant Morrow started yelling as they dragged the inert body down the ramp to make room for the others spilling through the Stargate. The room was soon swarming with soldiers and medics, but Hammond's eyes remained fixed on the gate, counting his men home. And then he saw Teal'c stride through and his heart lifted a little; at least SG-3 had found them. Major Carter wasn't far behind, limping but otherwise unscathed. Doctor Jackson followed, his face like thunder, escorted on either side by a couple of marines. And then, after a moment, O'Neill charged through, barreling into Daniel before he had time to stop his run.
"Close the iris!" he yelled, but it was too late. A fully armored Jaffa stepped through right behind him, his staff weapon raised and ready for use. But O'Neill didn't give him a chance. He opened fire and kept on firing as the iris slid shut behind them and the Jaffa's lifeless body slumped against it, dancing grotesquely as O'Neill pumped it full of bullets.
"Stop!" Jackson yelled then, grabbing at O'Neill's weapon and ending the stream of bullets. The two men's gazes locked, and Hammond was surprised to see a real animosity between them. "Haven't you seen enough death for one day?" Daniel asked, his voice quiet but loud enough to carry across the stunned room. And then he shoved the Colonel's weapon to one side and pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the exit.
Hammond watched him go in astonishment and turned to O'Neill for an explanation. "Colonel?" he asked. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"
But Jack just shook his head. "We had a difference of opinion," he muttered. "I'll handle it."
"Damn right," Hammond agreed.
O'Neill made no reply, but flung a quick glance at Carter. Her eyes were already on him and she met his gaze with a small shrug and a shake of her head. Hammond shared her obvious disquiet; there was something wrong with his best team, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.
***
His hair still damp from the shower, Jack slammed shut his locker door. He couldn't get the image out of his mind; wide terrified eyes, dark straight hair. A child. Dead now, at the hands of the Jaffa. A child who'd died to hold a line in a war he couldn't possibly have comprehended. Jack closed his eyes and let his head come to rest against the cold metal of the locker. What right did he have to sacrifice that child for *their* war? No right, he decided, just necessity. But was that enough?
"Sir?" he heard Carter's voice behind him and found that even her gentle tone wasn't enough to ease the burden in his heart. "Colonel?"
He turned then, pulling a tee-shirt over his head. "Hey, Carter. I'm almost done."
She shook her head a little and sat down opposite him. "Pretty tough call today," she said then, glancing up at him with an open invitation to talk.
He declined it. "Yeah," was all he said and reached for his jacket.
Respecting his decision, she changed the subject. "You gonna talk to Daniel?" she asked, and he detected a hint of unease in her voice.
"I need to straighten this out, Carter," he told her. "He was out of line."
"Maybe you should wait a little?" she suggested. "Let him calm down."
"No." Jack shook his head. "This is a matter of discipline, I can't let it fester."
She stood up then, taking a step closer. "He's not a soldier, sir," she reminded him. "It was hard on all of us - watching those people die - but for Daniel it had to be worse."
"It wasn't his decision," Jack growled, aware that his own anger and pain were bubbling dangerously close to the surface. He hoped that Carter wouldn't notice, but she knew him too well to be deceived.
She glanced hurriedly around the room, ensuring they were alone, before she reached out and touched his arm. "For what it's worth, sir," she said, "I think you made the right decision."
Her eyes were full of understanding and warmth as she gazed at him and he realized that the weight in his heart had lifted a little at her words. He found a smile for her as he covered her hand with his. "It means a hell of a lot, coming from you, Carter." She smiled then, and the world melted away. Frustrating as they were, he loved moments like this. He could imagine that they were alone in the universe; the touch of her hand was more expressive than a thousand caresses, and everything that shouldn't and couldn't be said was there in her eyes for him to read. But, as usual, their precious fragment of intimacy was abruptly shattered as the locker-room door banged open. They stepped apart automatically, the moment vanishing without a word.
"Perhaps I should come with you, sir?" Carter suggested as SG-3 trooped into the room, their raucous voices almost drowning her out.
Jack pulled on his jacket. "To see Daniel?" he asked. "You afraid we're gonna come to blows?"
Carter smiled. "Well," she said, following him to the door, "it had kinda crossed my mind."
***
As soon as she stepped into Daniel's lab, Sam knew that the coming confrontation was a bad idea. He sat at his desk, glowering at them over the top of his glasses, and she was half tempted to drag Jack back out of the room immediately. But Daniel spoke before she could act.
"What's this?" he asked darkly. "A delegation?"
"We just thought you might want to talk," Sam said hastily, before Jack could say anything inflammatory. "About what happened on P6J- 487."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes flinty behind his glasses. "What happened?" he snapped. "Oh, that's a nice euphemism. You mean when we let eight innocent people die to save ourselves?"
Sam closed her eyes for a moment, feeling something inside her growing cold at his bluntness. "Yeah, that's what I mean."
"Well what's there to say?" he asked bitterly, tapping his pen against the desk, drumming out a staccato pattern of animosity. "Did you drag Jack here to apologize?"
At her side she felt O'Neill bristle, sensed his sharp irritation even before he spoke. "Okay," he said, in a voice laced with danger. "First, Carter didn't drag me here, and second I'm not here to apologize. I did what had to be done, that's all."
"Bullshit!"
"Excuse me?!"
"Daniel," Sam broke in, stepping between them, "the Colonel made a military decision - giving ourselves up wouldn't have achieved anything."
He glared at her, angry and hurt. "It would have *saved* those people's lives," he said. "That's something." "For how long?" Jack growled, pinning Daniel with his clouded, angry eyes. "A day? A month? Until the Jaffa wanted to terrorize the local population for some other reason?"
Daniel made no response, just scowled at them, his pain and disgust obvious. And she felt a flash of compassion; Daniel was no soldier, despite everything they'd been through together. He was a man who felt things deeply, who took people to heart. A man who still believed that the good guys would always win because they were right; he was no soldier, no cynic, no pragmatist. She took another step closer. "Think what Apophis would have done with the information he'd have gotten out of us," she said, trying to appeal to his reason. "The whole SGC would have been at risk - the whole planet!"
But Daniel wasn't backing down. His face was dark with a kind of sick horror she knew only too well - she felt it herself, creeping around her gut as she remembered the faces of the men, women and children the Jaffa had executed. And from the bitter expression on Jack's face she knew that its sour taste haunted him too. "This is our job," Daniel said after a long silence, "fighting the Goa'uld is what we *do*. Those people were innocent bystanders."
Jack shook his head and dragged a hand through his damp hair. "They were Goa'uld slaves," he pointed out. "Collateral damage is just a fact of life when you're fighting a war."
Sam winced at the expression and saw Daniel's eyes widen briefly before they narrowed. "Collateral damage?" he choked. "Now they're collateral damage?!"
"He didn't mean it like that..." Sam jumped in, trying to defuse the situation but only succeeding in drawing Daniel's anger down upon herself.
"Didn't he?" Daniel spat. "Are you sure? And how the hell do *you* know what he meant anyway, Sam? Damn it, neither of you get it do you?" He pulled his glasses from his face and lurched to his feet, turning his back on them. "We *killed* those people today," he said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "We could have saved them but we didn't."
"I had no choice," Jack barked, but Sam could see the doubt in his eyes and her heart ached for him. She knew how hard the decision had been, why couldn't Daniel understand that? He was just making it worse, for all of them.
"We could have tried," Daniel persisted. "We could have done *something* - something more than hide like cowards!"
Jack flinched at the accusation and Sam felt her own hackles rise. "Hey," she snapped, "do you have *any* idea how hard it is to give an order like that?"
"I don't care!" he yelled, turning back around. "And, damn it Sam, why do you insist on defending him all the time?"
"I'm not!" she protested, just as Jack snapped. "I don't need to be defended, Daniel. I'm not the one who's out of line here."
Daniel said nothing for a moment, but he was far from convinced. "I just don't understand why you wouldn't consider any other options," he said, moderating his tone once more. "There *had * to be a better way."
"I didn't like any of the other options," Jack told him, "because they all involved us getting killed!"
"If we'd discussed it more..." Daniel began, but O'Neill cut him off.
"Damn it, Daniel, this is the military not a goddamn debating society. I give the orders, you obey them. That's how it works!"
"But your orders were *wrong*," Daniel shot back.
"My problem."
"No," he disagreed. "I'm not in the military and I insist of having a say!"
"Daniel," Sam sighed, taking a step closer and hoping to calm him. "In a military situation we *have* to follow orders, even ones we don't like. Otherwise the whole team is compromised. You know that."
Daniel's eyes turned and caught hers. "And what about you, Sam?" he asked. "Did you like those orders?"
She shook her head. "Of course I didn't. But that's not the issue. The Colonel's my CO - I obey his orders."
"But you didn't like them, did you?" he pressed. "You wouldn't have let them die."
Sam frowned, irritated that he was trying to force her into some kind of disloyal confession. "No, I didn't like them," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean they were wrong. Actually, I think Colonel O'Neill made the right decision - even if I didn't like it."
Daniel nodded, running his fingers through his hair again. "Defending him again, Sam? I don't even know why I'm surprised anymore!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back.
"Just another example of the Sam-and-Jack alliance in operation," he growled. "Military considerations overrule moral considerations - *again*."
"That's not true, Daniel," she told him, a little uneasy with the path of his accusations. The Sam-and-Jack alliance? What the hell was that about?
"Well it seems like it from where I'm standing," Daniel insisted. "Whenever there's some military issue involved, you two jump into bed together and ignore what Teal'c or I say about ...."
Sam lost the thread of his argument because his accidentally appropriate metaphor had drawn her eyes irresistibly towards Jack, just in time to see his own gaze slipping guiltily away from her. Their half-glance was fleeting, but not fast enough to escape Daniel's sharp observation.
"Oh...," he breathed suddenly, halting in mid-tirade and glancing between them with widening eyes. "Well, I guess *that* explains it!"
Sam felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "What do you mean?"
Daniel was laughing, a cold, humorless laugh. "Ha," he mused, shaking his head. "I was talking figuratively but I guess you two are way more literal."
"What the hell are you talking about, Daniel?" Jack snapped, glaring at the man with ill-concealed anxiety.
"About why Sam's opinion is the only one you listen to anymore," he snapped. "And about why you wouldn't risk her life to save *eight* innocent people!" Sam's heart froze at his words, and her eyes darted to Jack. 'That wasn't the reason,', she implored him silently, 'please, Jack, don't say that was even part of the reason.'
Jack's voice was icy and granite hard. "The only considerations affecting my decision were military," he grated. "And I'll be damned if I have to justify that decision to you, or to anyone else."
"How about to those eight people you condemned to death? You gonna justify it to them? To their families?"
Jack's eyes narrowed viciously, dark with anger. Sam could see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way the small muscle in the side of his jaw twitched as he strove to control his emotions, and it made her shiver. "This is war, Daniel," he said coldly. "And I'm a soldier. If you don't like what we do, go bury your head in an archive somewhere and let the rest of us get on with the dirty work. Because someone has to do it, and today it was me."
"Does all that macho military crap help you sleep any better at night?" Daniel shot back as he stalked out from behind his desk and stopped only inches from Jack, his whole body bristling with a belligerence Sam had never seen before.
A quick, bleak smile quirked the Colonel's lips. "Oh, I sleep just fine."
"Yeah?" Daniel asked. "Well you know what? I don't care! Screw the military and screw *you*, Jack." His angry eyes never left Jack's face, but his mouth twisted into a vitriolic smile of his own as he added, "But I guess that's Sam's job, isn't it?" And with that he stalked out of his lab, slamming the door so hard behind him that it bounced open immediately.
Jack leaped to follow him, but Sam grabbed his arm before he reached the door. "Don't!" she hissed. "Let him go."
He turned on her, his face ablaze with anger. "I don't care if he's a friend, I'm not gonna let him get away with...."
"You want to have that conversation in the hall?" she snapped.
That stopped him and he slunk back into the room and slammed the door shut, turning his back to her as he rested both hands on Daniel's desk and tried to regain control. "Damn it," he muttered to himself, and she knew exactly what he meant. Things were going wrong, badly wrong. And it was all their fault.
Something had changed between them after the night they'd spent together. She hadn't meant it to, hadn't thought it would, but.... Sam stopped herself right there. Who the hell was she kidding? She hadn't thought about it at all, not really. Not about how their actions might effect the team; she'd never even considered it. After all, it was just meant to be the one night, one illicit, glorious night that would change nothing. That had been the whole point, right? To keep things as they were, hold the line, fight the fight. She almost laughed; change nothing? How could she have been so naive? That had been their first mistake.
And although nothing had happened between them since, it didn't matter because it was too late. The cat was out of the bag and try as she might, she couldn't get the damn thing back in. Something had changed. Something elusive. It was as if that one night had bound them together with bonds of steel, bound and trapped them in a place where they were forbidden to be together and yet were unable to move apart. It was a torment of exquisite sweetness and pain. And it had changed things, it was still changing things - between them and within the team. She hadn't been blind to it, but she had tried to ignore it. The second mistake.
She sat down, her eyes on Jack's rigid back and her thoughts on Daniel's words. 'Sam's opinion is the only one you listen to anymore... you wouldn't risk her life to save *eight* innocent people!' She closed her eyes, trying to still her stomach as she remembered the disgust in Daniel's voice as he'd spat out his accusation. "Sir," she said quietly, opening her eyes once more, watching him. "I need to ask you something."
He nodded and she suspected that he knew what she was going to say. She licked her lips. "Was he right?" she asked.
Jack lifted his head and turned to face her. She wished he hadn't, because the dismay and confusion in his face stole her breath. He said nothing for a moment, his dark eyes boring into her, seeking something she couldn't give. And then he nodded and said, "I don't know. Maybe."
She allowed herself a brief respite as her eyes closed and she swallowed the lump rising in her throat, before she returned to the devastation in his face. "Militarily," she said slowly, "it was a sound decision, sir."
"Daniel didn't think so."
"Daniel's not a soldier."
He was silent again, leaning back on Daniel's desk and wrapping his arms around his chest. Defensive, she thought, and wondered if he was afraid of her, of what had grown illicitly between them. "What do you think he'll do?" he asked then. "Take it to Hammond? Tell him he can't work with the 'Sam-and-Jack alliance'?"
She smiled grimly at the words, but shook her head. "I think he'll sleep on it and feel terrible in the morning. You know Daniel - he's passionate, but he's reasonable. He doesn't hold grudges."
Jack's mouth thinned to a narrow line. "Doesn't make a lot of difference though, does it?" he asked. "I mean, he's probably right - about us. Things have changed."
"Yeah," she agreed, "they have, sir."
He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes; tired and uncertain he suddenly looked his age. "Damn it," he sighed, "when did this get so complicated, Carter?"
She just shook her head, gazing up into his troubled eyes. "You know when, sir," she said quietly. "That night we crossed the line and found there was no way back."
***
The clock by his bed ticked away the small hours of the night with a relentless certainty, and Jack lay in the dark listening to the tick- tick-tick as his mind drifted through the hazy roads of regret and longing that so often haunted his sleepless nights. Regrets. They whirled in his mind on nights like this, chasing each other, coming together, blending and then lurching into startling clarity and stabbing him in the chest with renewed pain. Regrets. They all had names. Charlie. Sara. Kowalsky. Carter. Each one as painful as the next, in different ways. All but Charlie. That was a unique pain, one unrivalled by anything else; regret and guilt, endless guilt. But tonight it wasn't Charlie who haunted his restless mind, tonight it was Carter. Sam.
And suddenly she was there, as real as his memories could make her; her face smiling at him, her eyes in the moonlight, her skin hot against his own, her warm breath on his lips. And the pain was electrifying. Not two months ago she'd been right there, in his arms, and the world had been right. For a few short hours it had all made sense and he'd known that his place in it was at her side. But then the dawn had broken into the room and stolen her away, leaving him bereft.
And bereft he still was, alone and lonely in a house that resounded with those hours of ephemeral happiness. But it was a happiness bought at a price, and today Daniel had shown him how high that price might be. And he didn't know if he could pay it.
'Sam's opinion is the only one you listen to anymore.' He winced at the truth of his friend's words; that single night had drawn them into orbit around one another, unable to break free as they slowly circled each other, entranced by the dance and excluding all others. His eyes, his attention, his thoughts were only for Sam.
But he'd thought he'd kept it hidden, he'd thought that he'd been professional - done his duty, held the goddamn line. He'd thought no one would notice. But he'd been wrong. Daniel had noticed. Of course he'd noticed. How could he not? They were like family, closer than family. And this thing with Sam had shaken the bond, shattered the dynamic they'd spent three years building. Daniel didn't trust him to do what was right anymore, and in the darkness of the night Jack was honest enough to admit that he didn't trust himself. Oh, the decision not to surrender to the Jaffas' threats had been the right one, technically, but.... But it had been the thought of Sam in the hands of Apophis that had chilled him bone- deep, that had steeled his reserve when the screams had echoed through the cold afternoon air. Better them than Sam, he'd thought. And the thought disgusted him.
He brought his hands to his face and pressed them over his eyes, dry and sandy from lack of sleep. "How the hell are you gonna get out of this one, Jack?" he asked himself. But he made no answer, for he had none.
***
Daniel awoke with a start, suddenly wide awake and staring into the shadows of his bedroom. For a moment he wondered what had woken him, but it only took an instant for the bitter memories to crash in - sleep had not banished them far.
He remembered the face of the child. He remembered Jack's stubborn intransigence. He remembered the cold anger in the eyes of a man he considered a friend. He remembered his own words - "He could have been Charlie" - and he remembered the way Jack's face had almost crumpled under the assault. A pulse of remorse jolted in his chest. Then he remembered other words. "Screw you. But I guess that's Sam's job, isn't it?" He remembered the way her face had frozen and shattered like ice, the look of horrified betrayal. And the pulse of remorse turned into a steady flow, filling his heart and drowning his anger.
Eight people had died. He reminded himself of the fact, but it did nothing. All he could see was Sam's face and the hurt that his cruel, nasty words had brought to a woman he loved like the sister he never had. "Oh God," he sighed, watching the flicker of passing headlights through the curtains. "What have I done?"
***
Sam had slept on base. She hadn't trusted herself behind the wheel. Not that she hadn't been fit to drive, she just hadn't trusted herself to go home. Because it was on days like yesterday, when the whole world seemed to be going to hell, that she found it hardest to resist him. And it was on days like yesterday that he danced close to the line, tempting her to cross it once more. "You wanna get a beer, or something?" he'd asked as they'd sat, shell-shocked, in Daniel's office. His eyes had been unsure but hopeful, and it had taken all her resolve to turn him down.
"Probably not a good idea, sir," she'd said, breathless with the effort of denying herself the comfort she craved. "Considering Daniel's... concerns."
He'd just nodded, disappointed and too tired to hide it behind an asinine joke or flippant retort. He'd just pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. "'Night, Carter." And then he'd gone, leaving her alone - which was what she wanted, and what she didn't want.
And she was still alone, eating breakfast in the cafeteria. It tasted of nothing but dust as she contemplated all that the day might hold. The fallout from Daniel's accusations was going to be messy, and she couldn't see any way out of it. If SG-1 was to survive, something serious was going to have to happen. But she was all out of ideas. And in her heart, she feared that maybe there was no answer. That by crossing the line, she and Jack had destroyed the thing they'd striven so hard to protect.
"Major Carter?" She glanced up, surprised to see General Hammond standing across the table from her. "Mind if I join you?"
Surprised, she said, "No, sir. Of course not." Her heart beat a little faster. This was unusual, to say the least. She took another bite of her toast and gave the General a wary smile, wondering what he wanted.
She didn't have to wait long. "I have something to discuss with you, Major," he said then, a slight frown touching his wide forehead. "Would you mind if we discussed it here, or would you prefer to come to my office?"
"Um," she stammered, half- afraid Daniel had already gone to see the General. But no, he wouldn't offer to talk about *that* particular can of worms in public. "Here's fine, sir," she assured him. "What is it?"
Hammond nodded, composing his thoughts, and pushed a folded piece of paper towards her. "The Pentagon have just commissioned a new project, Major. And Colonel Richards wants you on his team."
She blinked and picked up the letter he'd passed to her. "What kind of project, sir?"
"They want to build a Stargate."
Her eyes widened. "Build? From scratch?" She shook her head. "That's ambitious."
Hammond ran a hand over his head, his blue eyes fixed on her with a bright intensity. "If they're successful, the implications for the future of mankind are - "
"Astronomical," she agreed. "Wow."
"Richards is keen to have you, Major," he told her. "Almost as keen as I am to keep you."
She smiled at that, and nodded her head in a self-conscious gesture of thanks. "I'm flattered, sir. To be asked."
"I won't deny, it's a big opportunity for you Carter," he said. "My guess is that, with your first hand experience, you'd be running the show. Promotion wouldn't be far off."
She nodded, but her thoughts were already running in a new direction, taking her heart with them. This was it, she realized.
This was the answer - the way to save SG-1. It had fallen into her lap like a gift from the gods. Now all she needed was the courage to take it up. She opened the letter and read it briefly - a request for her transfer, a brief description of the responsibilities the new post would entail. It was impressive, exciting. She bit her lip. It was in D.C.
The scraping of chair legs against the floor drew her eyes back to the General, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll leave you to your breakfast, Major," he said, "and to consider the offer. Much as I'd hate to lose you, it might be a good career move." As he spoke, Sam scoured his face for a hint of double entendre - did he know about her and Jack? Was that what he meant? In a sense, it would save her career. And Jack's. But there was nothing in his face but the honest concern of a senior officer, and she breathed a little easier. "I'll need an answer by the end of the week," he told her as he turned to leave, taking his coffee with him.
Sam just nodded, her heart trembling with the knowledge that the decision had already been made. She was going to go. It was the only way out, the only answer to a problem that had no other solution. She knew it was right, even if the idea of leaving crushed her chest so badly she could hardly breathe.
But in the broken remains of her heart she knew her decision was right; what she didn't know was how the hell she'd tell Jack.
***
Standing outside the door to Sam's lab, Daniel hesitated. He lifted his hand to knock, but lowered it at the last moment and turned away, took two steps and stopped. "Damn it," he whispered, "just do it, Daniel. You owe her this much, at least." Turning on his heel he strode back to the door and knocked before he had time to turn around again.
Her answer was immediate. "Come in."
Swallowing the nerves that were crawling into his throat, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Hi," he said, hesitant, asking with a quick glance if he was welcome.
She didn't smile like she usually did and he could see a shadow in her eyes, dimming their usual brightness. But she did speak. "Daniel. Hi."
He cleared his throat, back to the door. "Sam, I wanted to say sorry, about yesterday."
"It's okay," she replied, far too quickly.
"No," he sighed, "no it's not. Those things I said - about you and Jack - I didn't mean it. Really."
She dropped her eyes back to the notes on her bench. "It's okay," she repeated. "Don't worry about it."
Daniel sighed. Her defenses were raised and he felt like the barbarian at the gate. "Listen Sam," he said, taking a step further into the room, "I think it's great that you and Jack are involved. I mean it's not like...."
He didn't have a chance to finish, because her head snapped up. "We're not," she said abruptly.
His eyebrows slid upward. "You're not?" Oh, come on Sam - I saw the damn necklace, remember?
"No," the word was heavy with regret and she dipped her eyes back to her work. "There's nothing going on between us and there never will be."
He frowned. "But I thought..."
Again, she cut him off. "Then you thought wrong."
"Well, if you say so."
Silence.
"Okaaay." He shifted awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. "Well, I'm still sorry. For flying off the handle with you - and Jack. I was just so...disgusted, horrified...." He sighed again as the memories returned. "I guess I'd never make a soldier."
"No," she agreed, "you wouldn't." Her voice was tight, controlled, clenched. Almost as if she was holding herself together.
"Sam, are you okay?" he asked, peering down to see into her face. "You seem a little tense."
She didn't look up. "I'm fine."
"Then - we're okay?" he asked suspiciously.
"We're fine Daniel," she said, and at last raised her eyes once more. But they were still clouded, broken somehow. "You should go see Colonel O'Neill. He was pretty mad."
Daniel made a face. "I know. I'm working up to that one."
She smiled faintly. "If you grovel enough he might not kill you."
"I still think he was wrong," he told her, unwilling to shoulder all the blame.
But his words lost her. "That's between you guys," she said immediately, turning back to her work. "It's not my concern anymore."
"Anymore?" he asked, a little disconcerted by her oddly detached tone.
She just waved a dismissive hand. "Go see the Colonel, Daniel. Get it over with."
Still frowning he turned to leave. But just as he reached the door to her lab he heard her let out a deep, heartfelt sigh and wondered what the hell it meant.
***
In the sky above the Cheyenne Mountains the sun was setting in a fireball of scarlet flames, casting long shadows over the winter landscape. But deep beneath the rock nothing but the gently ticking clock told General Hammond that another day was drawing to a close. That and the weary pricking at the back of his eyes and the dull ache in his shoulders. Stretching in his chair, he dropped his pen onto his desk and allowed himself a very un-General like yawn.
Tap-tap.
He sighed and glanced at the clock. Six-thirty already. "Come in," he called, settling himself back into his public demeanor as if shrugging on a jacket.
At his command the door opened and a rather pale Major Carter stepped inside. "Sir," she began, "do you have a moment?"
He nodded and smiled, genuinely pleased to see her. "What can I do for you, Major?"
Her hands were clasped behind her back and she was almost standing to attention as her brow knitted into a frown. "Sir," she said, "I've decided to accept the Pentagon job. On the Stargate build project."
Hammond just stared, not sure he could quite believe his ears. He'd known it would be a possibility, but only a vague one. He'd never thought she'd really take it. Carter leave the SGC? It didn't seem possible. Colonel O'Neill certainly hadn't thought so. 'Well, *that's* never gonna happen,' had been his exact words when Hammond had shown him the transfer request.
"Sir?" Carter prompted and he realized that she'd managed to stun him into silence.
"I see," he said then, clearing his throat and schooling his face into the appropriate neutrality. "Sit down, Major."
She did as she was bid and he couldn't help but notice the lines of tension around her eyes. "Sir," she said before he could continue, "I just want you to know how much I've enjoyed working here - with everyone here. It's been amazing."
He nodded. "I can't deny that it'll be a blow lose you, Major - to the SGC, and if I may say, on a personal level as well." Then he frowned. "I don't suppose Colonel O'Neill was too happy?"
She flinched and her eyes dropped to her hands, clenched in her lap. "I haven't discussed it with the Colonel yet," she said quietly. "I wanted to clear it with you first, sir."
He gave her a dry smile. "I can understand that, Major." Jack was *not* going to be pleased. Not at all. And the good Colonel wasn't an easy man to gainsay. Carter just nodded, her face still tight and unhappy. Not surprising really, he mused. It was a tough decision to make; leaving the SGC would be akin to leaving her family. "Are you sure about your decision, Major? You haven't taken long to think about it." He didn't want to pressure her but needed to make sure her decision was sound. Knowing Carter as he did, it was hardly likely to be otherwise.
"Yes sir. I think it's for the best. In the long term." She was giving little away. "The challenge of building a new gate will be exciting - unique."
"Yes it will, Carter," he agreed. Exciting. So how come she didn't look excited? How come she looked as if she were heartbroken? Taking a deep breath Hammond regarded her thoughtfully, trying to understand what was going on. She was ambitious. God knew, she'd never have gotten assigned to the SGC if she hadn't been. And ambitious people can't afford to stay in one place for too long. A new challenge, a high profile job, rubbing shoulders with the people who make the decisions - that was the route to promotion, as Carter well knew. Jacob had trained his daughter well. It was a logical decision for a woman as young and keen to make a name for herself as Sam Carter. Yet perhaps, he realized, it was still a difficult choice. The ties of friendship she had forged in her four years at the SGC would make for a painful break and she wasn't as hard-bitten as she'd have you believe. Yet, in this choice of head over heart she'd chosen her head, and he couldn't fault her for that. Even if he did wish her heart had won out.
"I'll be sorry to lose you, Major," he said at last, with a real sense of loss. "But I understand your decision. Four years in one post is long enough for someone of your talents and ambition."
Her eyes shot up to meet his and for a moment he saw a flash of something akin to denial in their blue depths. But it was gone almost immediately and she just nodded again. "Yes, sir."
"Well," he sighed, "talk to Colonel O'Neill tonight and I'll go through the paperwork with him tomorrow."
Carter nodded silently and Hammond frowned. "Major," he said, watching her unhappy face, "if you change your mind in the next couple of days...?"
But the face she raised to his was determined. "I won't sir," she assured him. "I know this is the right decision - I'm just sad to be leaving." And there was that tightness around her eyes again, a sadness so unusual in her normally eager features.
He dismissed her with a nod, she turned to leave and he let her go without another word. The decision to take the new post was hard enough, without him hanging his own regrets on her. But once the office door closed behind her he let his head droop slightly as his heart sank heavily at the thought of the SGC, of SG-1, without the steadfast brilliance of Sam Carter.
***
Heading home, Daniel was surprised to stumble across Carter cursing quietly, yet vehemently, outside Jack's locked office.
"Sam?" he asked, still a little wary around her. He'd not seen her since he'd apologized that morning and didn't feel that things were quite on an even keel between them yet. "You okay?"
From the dour look on her face, he could guess her answer. "Have you seen the Colonel?" she asked with a sense of urgency that alarmed him.
"He went home," he told her. "Why? What's happened?"
"Home?" she whispered, as if the thought were profoundly disturbing.
"Sam?" Daniel pressed. "What's the matter?"
She shook her head, and the strange look disappeared from her face. "Nothing," she told him. "I just...needed to talk to him about something. It's okay."
"Is there a problem?" he asked. "Something I can help with?"
She smiled then, her eyes full of a penetrating sadness. "No, Daniel. Not this time. But thanks." And then she surprised him by pulling him into a hug and holding him tight, not moving for a long moment.
Pushing her gently away he looked deep into her eyes. "Tell me, Sam," he said. "Please, I'm your friend. Is it Jack? Is there something...?"
"Tomorrow," she said quietly. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I can't right now."
Daniel's heart lurched painfully. "Sam, you're worrying me," he said, still holding onto her shoulders. "What can't you tell me? Are you okay? You're as white as a sheet!"
"I'm fine," she replied, pulling out of his grip and taking a step backwards. "Everything's fine," she said, her words denied by the bleak expression on her face. "Please, don't worry. Everything's gonna be fine."
"Sam...?"
But she'd already turned away, walking hurriedly towards the elevators.
"Sam!" he called again.
She raised a hand in farewell, not stopping, not turning around. "See you in the morning, Daniel," she called before she turned the corner and was gone, leaving him alone with a very bitter taste in his mouth and a heart full of nameless dread. He couldn't help but feel that the world was about to turn upside down, and it scared him. It scared him rigid.
***
Pulling into his driveway Sam cut the engine and flicked off the headlights. But she didn't move. She just sat there in the dark, watching the warm yellow light spilling from the windows of Jack's house, illuminating a welcoming circle in the cold, winter night. She shivered, not from the cold but from memory. She hadn't been here since that night two months earlier when.... She sighed, closing her eyes against the memories. Damn, she thought, how could they still be so vivid?
In the distance a dog barked and startled her back to the present. She was here for a purpose, she reminded herself. She had to tell him. Tonight. But her heart quailed at the thought of speaking the words here, at his house. She'd wanted to keep it professional and talk to him in his office as a colleague. Not here, where her last memory of him was as her lover. Damn, this was going to be hard. The cowardly side of her mind suggested that, perhaps, she should wait until morning - get in early and hope he did the same. But she dare not risk General Hammond talking to him first, telling him what he deserved to hear from her own lips. No, she couldn't do that to him.
Steeling herself, Sam opened the car door and shivered at the blast of cold air that hit her as she stepped out, her feet crunching in gravel. Her stomach was writhing with trepidation as she slammed the door shut and climbed the steps to his porch, rang the bell and waited.
Nothing happened. Damn it. She rang again.
"Okay, okay!" she heard his voice, muffled through the heavy door, and her stomach did a painful backflip. "What's the big...?" The door opened and there he was, standing there blinking at her in surprise. "Carter!"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," she began, wrapping her arms around herself as she spoke. "I need to talk to you."
He just nodded, still a little dumbfounded, and stood back to let her in. "Anytime," he muttered as she stepped inside.
His house was just as she remembered it. A little tidier than usual, perhaps. But warm, inviting. Enticing. Her heart was racing now with more than just dread anticipation; memories flooded to the surface so poignant she wondered how he could stand to live among them. But perhaps they didn't haunt him as they did her? Perhaps they were familiar shades now, ones he could live with without pain? But when she glanced up at him and saw the mixture of hope, guarded expectation and confusion whirling in the depths of his eyes she knew that their minds were travelling the same path. Memories haunted them both.
For a moment their eyes locked, stripping away everything that lay between them. It was a moment of naked clarity, of brutal honesty, and she saw the hope fade from his face as he looked into her eyes, to be replaced with a dogged resignation and a deep disappointment. It almost broke her heart.
Jack cleared his throat and ended the moment. "You wanna drink?"
She shook her head. "I'm not staying, sir," she told him hurriedly, regretting her choice of words immediately.
"No," he said quietly, "don't suppose you are." The sorrow in his voice was tangible, but he shook it off and forced a smile. "So," he said, leading her into the living room, "what's so urgent it can't wait 'til morning, Carter?"
Direct and to the point. That was Jack. No time to ease into the subject, to soften it. She stopped, standing in the middle of the living room as he dropped into a chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and watching her expectantly. "I need to tell you something," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Am I gonna like it?"
She was silent for a moment, her heart pounding so hard she was sure Jack must be able to hear it. Clearing her throat she was about to speak when she decided to sit down. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that sitting down helped defuse tense situations and tense didn't even begin to describe this! Plus, it gave her another few seconds before she had to utter the words. So, inching backwards, she lowered herself into a chair opposite him and perched nervously on the edge.
"Carter?" he prompted, his eyes fixed on her with a potent intensity. "What's going on?"
Sam nodded, closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When she opened them again she looked right at him and said, "I've decided to take the job on the Stargate build project." He just stared as if she'd spoken in Japanese. "I'm leaving the SGC, sir," she added, to make sure he understood.
Jack continued to gaze at her, expressionless. And then he said, "Like hell you are!"
"I'm sorry, sir..." she began, but he was on his feet and talking over her.
"No need to apologize, Carter, because it ain't gonna happen." He stalked to the window, resting one fist against the wall as he glared out into the night. "Ain't gonna happen."
"General Hammond has already agreed to the transfer," she told him and winced as his whole body stiffened.
"Then he'll just have to un-agree," he snapped, "because I'm your CO and I say no. End of discussion."
Sam scowled down at her boots. "You can't do that, sir."
"Watch me."
"On what grounds?" she asked, beginning to fear that he really might try to block her transfer.
"On the grounds," he replied, turning back around, "that SG-1 needs you."
"SG-1?" Oh, come on Jack.
He nodded. "That's right. The team needs you." He shook his head, angry. "Damn it, Carter, what the hell happened to holding the line? To winning the war?"
"I'll still be fighting the war," she protested as she rose slowly to her feet, instinctively defensive. "Just on a different front."
"Behind the lines," he pointed out, his voice edging towards a shout. "Behind a desk. We need you *here* - we need you on the goddamn frontline!"
"You'll find a replacement."
Jack's stare was incredulous. "Replacement?" he repeated. "I don't want a replacement, Sam. I want *you*!" As soon as the words left his mouth he dropped her gaze and stalked into the kitchen. She heard a cupboard door slam and the clink of a bottle against glass. When he emerged he was cradling a very large whiskey. "So," he said, with painful brightness, "did Daniel put you up to this?"
She frowned. "Daniel? It's got nothing to do with Daniel."
"Really?" he asked. "Nothing to do with that little outburst of his yesterday? His charming comments about us?"
"If Daniel did anything," she told him quietly, "it was to open my eyes to what was going on in the team."
"There's nothing going on in the team, apart from Daniel's bitching," he growled.
"You know that's not true, sir," she countered. "We both know that things have changed. Everything changed after we...." She couldn't bring herself to say it.
But Jack could. "After we screwed?" he suggested, his voice as brittle and bitter as she had ever heard it. She flinched at the word and so did he. "Sorry," he said immediately, taking a step closer as his anger dissipated beneath the wave of shame that spread over his features. "Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
She closed her eyes for a moment, inching back a little as her hand instinctively reached for the slender golden chain that she always wore. "I'm just trying to do the right thing," she told him. "Something one of us should have done a long time ago."
"One of us?" he asked, dropping his head and glancing up at her from beneath his eyebrows. "You mean me?"
"I mean one of us," she repeated. "We both knew what was happening and we both let it happen. We share the blame. And now we pay the price."
He shook his head and placed his drink on a table, taking a step closer and reaching for her hand. Despite her better judgement she let him take it and allowed her fingers to curl around his. What did it matter now? Soon she'd be gone. "Please, Sam," he said quietly, "don't go."
"I have to," she replied, aware that her throat was choking on emotion, but suddenly finding herself lost in his eyes - so deep, so dark, so full of warmth. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Help me do the right thing, Jack."
But he shook his head. "This isn't the right thing."
"Then what is?" she asked helplessly, as he pulled her closer and reached out to touch her face, making her shiver with stirred memories.
"This," he whispered and leaned in to kiss her. "This is the right thing, Sam."
And he was right. Feeling his arms around her again, his gentle kiss igniting fireworks in her head, she knew that he was right. It *was* right. It was wonderful. But it was also wrong. Very wrong. With an effort more mental that physical she pushed him away. "Don't," she gasped, struggling for air against the tightness in her chest. "Please, don't."
"Sam..." his voice was as choked as her own. "We can work something out...."
She turned abruptly away, wrapping her arms around her chest in an effort to keep her heart from breaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "We can't. I have to go."
"No, you don't!" There was a hint of desperation in his voice now. "Come on, we can handle this...."
"No we *can't*!" she snapped at him, turning back around. "That's the whole problem, isn't it? We can't handle it - we've *never* handled it. Right from the start."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sighing, she shook her head slightly, hugging herself tightly. "What was it you told Anise? That you'd rather have died than leave me on Apophis's ship?"
Jack shifted, uncomfortable with the memory. "Yeah? So?"
"So," she said, "that wasn't handling it, was it? How are Daniel and Teal'c meant to feel about that?"
"I'd do the same for either of them," he replied, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Would you?" she asked.
He was silent.
"Come on, Jack," Sam said quietly. "I was there, remember?" His silence endured, and so she continued. "And you know how things have been since...since we slept together. Everything changed and we were stupid to think it wouldn't - *I* was stupid. I should never have suggested...."
"I don't regret it, Sam," he said immediately. "Do you?"
She sighed and shook her head. She couldn't lie to him. "No," she whispered, "I don't regret that night, and I'll always remember it as...perfect, but...."
"But?" his voice was barely a whisper.
"But I regret the consequences, sir. For us and for the team. The moment we crossed the line this was inevitable - we were fooling ourselves to think it wasn't."
Jack bent his head, gazing down at the floor. "Then I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I know," she told him, resisting the urge to reach out and comfort him. "Me too."
He said nothing, turning away from her and returning to the window, snagging his whiskey from the table as he passed and gulping down a large mouthful. "You should get going," he said then, not turning around. "It's freezing out there - the roads are gonna ice up if you wait too long."
And that was her dismissal. Not that she blamed him. She heard the slight tremor in his voice as he spoke and understood his need to get this parting over with; this was the end of their brief romance and the end was as painful as anything she'd ever known.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said quietly and Jack just nodded, taking another drink. But she could see his reflection in the window and saw the sorrow in his eyes before he squeezed them shut. And then she saw the quick swipe with the back of his hand to keep the tears from falling and was almost overwhelmed by her own sorrow. Heartsick with the pain she'd caused him, Sam turned to leave before she could see anymore. But as she pulled open the front door she stopped, unwilling to leave it like this. Turning around she spoke to his back, saying the words she had never uttered before. "I do love you, Jack," she said quietly.
Her words hit him with a physical force and she saw him shudder at their impact, his shoulders tensing and his fingers curling into a fist. "Yeah," he said darkly. "Sure you do."
Sam turned cold as she saw his pain fermenting into anger before her eyes, the inevitable conclusion of their ill-fated passion. With a heart torn between grief and longing she turned away and fled before she did something stupid.
***
On the day that was to be Sam's last at the SGC Daniel awoke early, his heart heavy. Today they said goodbye to Sam, waved her off with a jolly little party, all smiles and best wishes, when all any of them wanted to do was hold onto her and tell her not to leave.
The past few weeks had been difficult at best, downright agonizing at worst. Sam looked as if someone had kicked her hard in the gut, silent and withdrawn as she drew to a conclusion all her business, filed reports, handed over notes, and shredded reams of paper. Meanwhile, Jack stalked the corridors like a wolf looking for a fight, and woe betide anyone who strayed into his path; these days Jack's bite was far worse than his bark, and *that* could be heard from one end of the complex to the other.
And to top it all off, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling that this was all his fault. Despite both Jack and Sam denying that they were - or ever had been - romantically involved, Daniel was a shrewd enough observer of humanity to see the truth. And the thought that his impassioned outburst after the incident on P6J-487 had been the catalyst for this catastrophe haunted him nightly. Had his unthinking and hurtful words, spoken in the heat of anger, been responsible for destroying the thing he treasured most in the world? The thought brought bitter self-recrimination no matter how many times Sam assured him that the decision was hers alone, influenced by nothing more than the promise of a new challenge and the advancement of her career. He simply didn't believe her.
Beep, beep.
His alarm sounded, a mournful noise heralding the start of a day he'd been dreading for weeks. By the time the sun set on it, everything would have changed and his world would be permanently out of kilter. He sighed and got out of bed, praying for a miracle.
***
The day dawned bright and chill; the perfect fall morning.
Sam lay in bed and relished the fact that she didn't have to get up early, while letting herself drift in that hazy space somewhere between sleep and consciousness, hiding from all that the day ahead was to bring. And as she dozed her thoughts inevitably turned towards Jack and the night they'd spent together.
Nearly three months ago now, yet the memories were still vivid, made more precious by the knowledge that they were unique and unrepeatable. But where once the path of those memories would have been a sweet road to travel, now she found it choked with bitterness and the sharp barbs of regret. And today, of all days, she couldn't bring herself to remember his touch, his warmth and the love she'd once seen in his eyes.
The pain brought her to full consciousness and with a sigh she rolled onto her back, banishing the bitter-sweet thoughts to which she had awoken. But she didn't hurry, and it was almost eight before she sat down with the paper and breakfast, glancing at the front page. She cracked a yawn as she read the headlines and was on the point of biting into a blueberry muffin when the doorbell rang. Sam frowned. Who the hell would be calling on her at this time of day? Licking crumbs from her fingers she padded over to the door and opened it, but no one was there. She glanced up and down the hall outside her apartment, but it was empty. With a frown she was about to close the door when something on the floor attracted her attention. It was a small, white envelope, with her name printed neatly on the front: Major Samantha Carter, USAF.
Curiously, she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. There was no postmark, no address. With a final glance down the hall, she closed her door and walked slowly back into the kitchen, studying the envelope as she went. But there was nothing about it to betray its sender. Sitting down, she slit it open with a finger and pulled out the contents.
"Oh my God," she gasped as she saw what her suddenly shaking fingers held. "Oh no." Her stomach churned queasily and a chill sweat broke out all over her body as she stared, transfixed at the photographs in her hands. They'd been taken at night and the resolution was fuzzy, but it was still clear enough to make out the two people locked in a passionate embrace under the stars. It was her and Jack. With trembling fingers she rifled through the photographs, three in all, each more revealing than the last; one of them on the roof, two of them inside his house. Inside his bedroom.
She let them fall from her hands and just stared, her heart racing with a sick dread. And then she saw the note, still in the envelope, and snatched it up, reading feverishly.
"A little indiscretion, Major?" it said. "It would be a shame to ruin two careers. Contact no one and meet me at the co-ordinates below in one hour, or all the officers at the SGC will have these photographs by lunch time. And remember, we're watching you."
Panic rose in her throat so fast she thought she would scream. Frantically she ran to the window and pulled the curtains shut, shivering with cold and disgust. Blackmail. She was being blackmailed! She didn't know what to do, she was trapped, alone.... "Damn it!" she yelled, her voice startlingly loud in the silent apartment. "Okay," she said then, "think, Sam. Think." Her hand reached for the phone, her instinct to call Jack. But she stopped at the last moment, even as her fingers closed over the cool plastic. 'Contact no one,' the message had said, and she wondered suddenly if her phone could be bugged. 'And remember, we're watching you.' Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
Dropping the phone, she sat back down and stared in horror at the photographs scattered across the breakfast table. And then anger started to overcome her initial shock and panic. Anger that someone dared try to blackmail her, and anger that her precious night with Jack should be so degraded - she closed her eyes in horror as the full realization that someone had been watching them crashed in on her.
"Bastards," she hissed, her fist coming down heavily on the table, making the dishes jump. She figured she had two choices; either refuse to be blackmailed, call Jack and take the whole mess to Hammond right away, or meet the bastard responsible and make him regret the day he even *thought* of trying to blackmail her. She closed her eyes and considered her choices. End her days at the SGC in shame and humiliation, or take out the bastard responsible? Tough choice.
Grabbing the note from the table, she dashed into the living room and pulled a map from the bookshelf, dislodging a whole pile of papers in her hurry. Ignoring the mess, she found the co-ordinates and frowned. She knew the place, up in the mountains. Pulling on her boots, she grabbed her jacket and ran into the bedroom where she unlocked the secure cabinet in which she kept her personal sidearm. Stuffing the gun into her pocket, she headed for the door and was gone within ten minutes of receiving the note.
***
Jack was alone in the briefing room, early for the meeting. It wasn't going to be fun and he just wanted to get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The final debrief - SG-1's last hurrah.
He sat with his feet up on the table, gazing down into the empty gate- room, his mind unfocused. Today felt like the end of things and he was struggling to see beyond it, to imagine life going on after she'd gone. Oh, he knew it would. It always did. It had gone on after Sara had left, even after Charlie had died - in the end. He knew the pain would pass, subside and join the ghosts of his other losses. But that knowledge did little to temper the agony of parting that this day would bring. Today he'd see her for the last time and he knew that when she left she'd be taking a sizeable lump of his heart with her.
"Hey."
Daniel's wary voice drew his gaze back from the dormant Stargate and into the room. "You're early," Jack said.
Daniel nodded. "You too."
Jack made no reply, his eyes drifting down aimlessly to stare at his hands resting in his lap.
"It's not going to be the same without her, is it?" Daniel said quietly.
Jack closed his eyes against a sudden, irrational flash of anger. Carefully moderating his tone he said, "No. It's not." It wasn't Daniel's fault, he reminded himself grimly. It wasn't. It just felt like it was.
"I think everything's set up for the party," Daniel said then, striving for a lighter note in his voice. "It should be...fun." The last word came out as a sigh, drawing Jack's gaze to his friend's face, and he realized that he wasn't the only one mourning her departure. Daniel and Sam were close in their own way.
Their eyes met and something flashed between them; an apology accepted and an acknowledgement of mutual regret and sorrow. "I'm sorry I've been such an ass lately," Jack said then, his voice quiet in the quiet room. "I'm just...."
"I know," Daniel said. "It's okay. We've all been thrown for a loop by this - but it's harder on you."
He frowned, their moment of shared understanding replaced by his customary wariness. "Because?"
Daniel almost smiled. "Because you care about her, Jack - in a way that Teal'c and I don't."
Jack's frown turned into a scowl as he swung his legs down from the table and turned his back on Daniel, gazing out at the Stargate again. He didn't bother to deny it. What was the point? But he didn't acknowledge it either, he just let Daniel's words hang unanswered in the silence between them as his thoughts drifted once more to the painful parting ahead.
***
The roads were empty as Sam drove, which was fortunate because her mind was too preoccupied to pay due attention to the traffic. Blackmail. She could hardly believe it! But by whom and for what? What the hell did they think she could give them? Money? On her salary? And the note - it had mentioned the SGC and her rank. It had to be someone at work. There was no other explanation. She scowled into the bright sunshine, wishing she'd remembered her sunglasses. Who the hell would want to blackmail her?
Her mind was still wrestling with the question when she pulled into the designated parking lot. No one else was there. At least, no one visible. Before she left her car she took a moment to release the safety on her gun, hoping she'd have no need to use it. But if she was threatened she'd be damned if she hesitated. No one played Sam Carter for a fool and got away with it.
Nervous, her heart racing with adrenaline, she stepped out of the car. She kept her hand closed around the gun in her jacket pocket as she slowly turned around, scanning the area for signs of movement or threat. Nothing. No one. She glanced at her watch; a minute to the appointed hour. Perhaps she'd gotten there first? She walked a short distance from her car, leaving the door open in case she needed to bolt. And in the distance she heard the gentle roar of an approaching car and her stomach lurched in apprehension as her fingers tightened around the gun. Feet slightly apart she balanced herself and tried to prepare for the coming confrontation. The car drew nearer, it was sleek and black and...drove right past. She was almost disappointed, eager now to get this whole thing over with.
She was just turning back towards her own car when she heard a terrifyingly familiar sound; the metalic screech of technology as golden rings shot down around her so fast she couldn't escape them. In the split second before she was snatched, Sam did the first thing that came to her mind. Grasping at her throat, she ripped the necklace Jack had given her from around her neck and flung it beyond the reach of the rings before they disappeared again, taking her with them.
***
General Hammond sat at the briefing room table, his fingers drumming impatiently. For the third time he glanced at his watch: ten- thirteen. Carter was late.
Glancing around the table he saw Daniel also examining his watch, his face tight with apprehension. Teal'c remained as impassive as usual, although Hammond thought he could detect a slight tension in the set of the man's jaw. Jack, on the other hand, was unable to sit still. His fingers were rapping a pencil in a nervous staccato against the desk, while his foot tapped out an impatient counterpoint and his eyes flicked constantly between his watch and the door. Carter was late. And Carter was never late.
"Has anyone seen her this morning?" Jack said at last, unable to maintain his silence.
Daniel shook his head. "I just came straight here," he said. "I didn't go past her lab."
Jack's eyes flicked to Teal'c. "Her laboratory was still locked when I passed it an hour ago, O'Neill."
The Colonel's face crumpled into a frown. "Carter's never late," he said, voicing all of their thoughts.
Hammond nodded at his words and rose to his feet, poking his head around the door and addressing the young airman who stood outside. "Lieutenant Foley, call security at the main gate," he said, "and find out if Major Carter has arrived yet."
***
As the rings whipped up from around her, Sam yanked the gun from her jacket pocket, whirling in a swift three-sixty. She was in an empty room, but there was no denying where it was; she knew a Goa'uld ship when she saw one. The gentle hum reverberating through the metal beneath her feet told her that the ship was in motion. Shit. What the hell was going on?
Behind her a door opened and she snapped around, her gun still raised and her finger poised on the trigger. Two Jaffa entered the room, glaring malevolently as they saw her weapon. One spoke, words she couldn't understand. "Stay back!" she yelled at him.
He said no more, stepping aside to allow another man to enter the room. Sam's jaw almost hit the floor when she saw Colonel Mayborne stride through the door, garbed in full Air Force dress uniform.
"Mayborne!" she hissed. "What the hell's going on?"
His smile was oily. "Major Carter," he said, "so glad you could make it."
"Tell me what's happening, you son-of-a-bitch, or so help me I'll kill you where you stand."
"I don't think so, Major," he replied smoothly. And then she noticed a subtle twitch of his eye over her shoulder, just enough to betray him. She spun around, but not fast enough, as the Jaffa standing behind her slammed his arm hard across her wrists and forced the gun to fall from her hands.
She lunged towards it, but the Jaffa grabbed her roughly and turned her around, pinning her arms painfully behind her back. She sucked in a breath, but refused to cry out. "Careful," Mayborne warned. "Don't damage her."
"What the hell are you doing, Mayborne?" she spat. "You're in league with the Goa'uld now?"
Once she was safely disarmed, he took a step closer. "I'm doing what you and your self-righteous friends are too scared to do, Major," he told her. "I'm doing what's necessary to save the world."
"Bullshit."
He ran a cool finger down her cheek. "I've always loved your spark, Samantha," he said, his smile turning into a leer. "I can see why Jack finds you so irresistible. Shame he can't keep his hands to himself though, isn't it?" Sam just glared, not deigning to respond. "You must remind me to show you the rest of the photographs some time - they're quite...entertaining."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'll kill you, Mayborne," she hissed.
"Oh, I don't think so, Samantha," he smiled, stepping backwards. "After all, we're going to be allies, you and I."
"I'd rather die."
His smile turned deadly cold. "Yes," he agreed, "I'm sure you would."
And then the door behind him opened once more, admitting an honor guard of Jaffa and a woman Sam knew instantly as Goa'uld. She was tall and striking, her dark hair falling long over a face marked only scantly by the passage of the years. At her approach Mayborne cringed backward, clearing her path to Sam.
"This is the one?" the Goa'uld asked.
"Yes, Hakraa. This is the one. Just as I promised."
Hakraa ignored the man's words, her eyes fixed on Sam as she walked slowly towards her. "You possess the knowledge of the Tok'ra," she said. "You were once host to Jolinar." Sam raised her chin, refusing to answer, and a cruel smile curved Hakraa's lips. "Soon," she said, "I will know everything."
"Not from me," Sam retorted, sounding braver than she felt.
Hakraa ignored her words, though her eyes never left Sam's face. Reaching out she pinched her chin between her fingers and turned her head from side to side. "She is beautiful. An added bonus." Her hand trailed down across Sam's shoulders, over her arms. "And strong."
Sam's heart was thundering in her chest as her mind struggled to find a way out. There had to be a way out! She knew the pain the Goa'uld hand devices could inflict, and knew herself well enough to doubt that she could resist such torture for very long. She'd rather die than betray the Tok'ra, but she doubted she'd have that option. In desperation she turned to Mayborne. "How can you do this?" she asked. "You think they'll spare earth once they've destroyed the Tok'ra? We'll be next!"
Mayborne's smile was as supercilious as ever. "Major," he sighed, "you've never had enough faith in me."
"I've never had *any* faith in you," she spat.
He ignored her. "In return for delivering you to Hakraa, she has agreed to provide Earth with all the weapons we need in order to defend ourselves against Apophis. No longer weak and defenseless, relying on the dubious benefits of our alliance with the Tok'ra, Earth will at last be a power to be reckoned with in the galaxy."
Sam could hardly believe what she was hearing. "You idiot! You think she'll actually *do* that?" She almost laughed. "God, Mayborne, you're a bigger jerk than I'd ever imagined! She's using you - can't you see that? When she's taken what she wants from me, she'll kill you!"
He looked a little ruffled by her words, but smoothed his features reasonably well. "We have a deal," he told her. "Signed."
This time she really did laugh. "Signed? On paper? Oh well, in that case.... Jesus, Mayborne!"
"Enough!" Hakraa's voice resonated with all the force of the alien within. "There is no time for this bickering. Prepare her for the procedure."
Sam's eyes flashed back to the Goa'uld. "What procedure?"
Her lips curved in that cruel smile again. "You did not think I would waste time torturing you for the information I require?" she asked. Sam felt her heart stop as her mind raced ahead of her, understanding the horror she faced. The blood drained from her cheeks and her head started to spin as she saw the truth in the face of the woman who stood before her. "I grow weary of this body," Hakraa murmured, reaching out an elegant finger to stroke Sam's cheek. "And yours is so pretty. I'm sure I shall enjoy it immensely."
For a moment Sam stopped breathing. And then all her breath burst out in a single, shattering scream. "NOOOO!"
***
Daniel watched Jack twisting a pencil nervously between his fingers as they waited for Lieutenant Foley to return. No doubt Sam had gotten caught up in traffic, or something equally prosaic, but he couldn't help the beat of unease in his heart as the time slipped silently past. Sam was never late. But then again, she'd hardly been herself these past weeks. Silent and withdrawn she'd gone about the business of packing up her things as if preparing for a wake rather than an apparently exciting new job.
Perhaps in the end she'd decided she couldn't face the final parting, all the good-byes and good wishes? Perhaps she'd decided to slip away quietly and unsung? It would have been typical of her modesty, but not of her sensitivity to the needs of others; he doubted she'd deprive her many friends here of their chance to wish her well, however unwelcome she found it.
But glancing over at Jack's scowling features, Daniel could understand why she might wish to avoid any fuss. Whatever feelings they had for each other, Jack was mad as hell that she was leaving and over the past few weeks he'd made the most of every opportunity to demonstrate his displeasure. The air between them had grown so thick with unresolved tension that it was suffocating. On at least one occasion General Hammond had felt the need to intervene and tell Jack to ease up on her. Jack had taken the reproof with all his usual grace. But between his scowls and growls, Daniel had sometimes seen a glimmer of something softer in his eyes as they lingered on Sam; a deep sorrow for the loss of something precious.
And he saw it now as Jack toyed with his pencil, his mind drifting and his eyes unfocused. It was one of his rare unguarded moments and the mask had slipped, revealing the genuine concern and deep affection that lay beneath his brittle veneer of anger. Just then a smart rap on the door broke the tense silence in the briefing room, and Jack's head snapped up as if he'd been shot.
"Come," General Hammond said immediately and the door opened to admit Lieutenant Foley. "Well, son?" he asked.
Turning around in his chair, Daniel saw Foley shake his head. "No sign of Major Carter at the main gate, sir," he reported sharply.
Over his shoulder he heard a sharp snap as the pencil Jack had been playing with broke in two. "I'll go call her apartment," Jack said, pushing his chair back noisily.
"I'm sorry, sir," Foley interrupted, "but I've already taken that liberty. There was no reply. Her cell phone isn't responding either."
Glancing over the table, Daniel saw the worried frown crease Hammond's face as he dismissed the airman with a swift nod. When they were alone again he said, "Does anyone have any idea what might be going on here?"
'I do,' thought Daniel, casting a significant glance at Jack. But O'Neill chose to ignore him, still on his feet and poised for action. In the end it was Teal'c who broke the silence.
"Major Carter has not appeared happy since she decided to leave the SGC," he observed. "Perhaps she is regretting her choice?"
"Carter wouldn't go AWOL," Jack said with an absolute certainty, and Daniel almost smiled at his unqualified faith in her.
But O'Neill wasn't the only one. "I agree," Hammond replied. "Major Carter is an exemplary officer, Teal'c," he said. "I don't believe she'd let her personal feelings intrude to that extent into her professional life."
Daniel's eyes were still fixed on Jack as the General spoke, so he saw the flash of guilty unease pass across his face and understood at last. Somewhere along the line their personal feelings *had* intruded into their professional lives, and her departure was probably the consequence. He sighed, not sure if he was angry, amused or just sad.
"We should send someone round and check her apartment," Jack said then, disturbing his musings. "Make sure she's okay."
Hammond nodded. "In all likelihood she's caught up in traffic, or stuck on the side of the highway with a flat tire."
Jack opened his mouth to argue but Hammond stalled him with a swiftly raised hand. "But given that the party can't start without the guest of honor...."
"Thank you, sir," Jack said, heading for the door as the General nodded a brief dismissal.
"Hey!" Daniel called after him, scrambling to his feet. "Wait up!"
***
The moment Hakaar opened her eyes in her new host she knew that something was different. She felt it immediately, this other presence in her mind, lurking angrily in a dark corner, watching, biding her time. Waiting. And she knew it immediately for the woman whose body she inhabited; Samantha Carter.
Rising to her feet she found that, despite the disquieting presence of the other, she had full control over her new body and walked to the large oval mirror at the center of her bedroom to admire herself. Tall, strong-limbed and fierce - this was a warrior's body she realized, relishing the strength she felt as she moved - the muscles toned to fitness, the strong beat of the heart in her chest. Yes, this would be a fine host even without its other, more cerebral advantages.
Closing her eyes, she sorted through the myriad of emotions, memories and thoughts that cluttered her host's mind, seeking the one thing she desired above all else - her knowledge of the Tok'ra.
For a Goa'uld as ancient as Hakraa, the task was not difficult and soon she saw what she needed. The presence of Jolinar was still strong in her host's mind and Hakraa reached greedily for it, eager for the knowledge it would provide. But as her thoughts touched the memories she felt a jolt of searing pain explode in her mind and she shrank back from it as if burned.
A cold anger gripped her now as she circled the little fortress Jolinar had created, probing subtly along anything that might be a weakness. But she found none, and each time she drew too near she felt that blinding pain again. Jolinar, it seemed, had found a way to ward her knowledge in the mind of her host. And within that small, iron ring Hakraa saw the essence of the woman who's body she inhabited, cowering but angry, protected in Jolinar's sanctuary and protecting it in turn from any who might wish to steal the knowledge it contained. And she smiled, knowing that the Tok'ra's sympathy for her host would be the undoing of her race, for while the mind of Jolinar had been strong and ruthless, the mind of her host was human and frail. And frailty - humanity - could always be exploited.
***
"Carter?" Jack called as he pushed open the door to her apartment. "You in here?"
There was no answer and so, with a swift glance at Daniel's concerned face, he stepped inside. The curtains were still closed and the bright winter sunshine seeped around their edges to illuminate the room. Glancing around, he was acutely aware that her presence filled the apartment; her shoes discarded untidily by the door, her sweater slung over the back of the sofa, a pile of magazines balanced precariously on the coffee table. Even her scent lingered in the air. And it made his heart race; this was the woman he'd craved to know, this was the place he'd longed to be. Sam's place, not Major Carter's. He moved slowly through her home, eyes wondering, hands touching nothing. He'd been here before, of course. Once or twice, but not often. And certainly not recently.
"Carter?" he called again, glancing towards the bedroom. If she was sick...? He nodded to Daniel, "Go check out the living room," he suggested.
Daniel wandered off as Jack turned and walked past the bathroom, peeking around the door, just to make sure. Nothing. Empty. Hesitantly he pushed open her bedroom door and stepped inside. She wasn't there. But her bed was rumpled and slept in - unmade. He frowned, not sure why that disturbed him. Her bathrobe lay discarded on the floor and he had to step over it to reach the open closet. As he did so his eyes were caught by a photograph in a neat wooden frame, perched on top of the tall chest of drawers; it was of the four of them, covered in mud and grinning. He smiled, remembering the mission and the incident. It was a couple of years ago now and he was struck by the uninhibited way in which he stood there with his arm draped around her shoulders. Back then, he mused, everything had been so easy - they'd simply been happy in each other's company, friends and colleagues. Now they didn't dare get that close, in public or private, and he realized he missed that easy familiarity.
Shaking himself he turned away from the picture and continued his survey of the room. As he drew closer to the closet he saw something inside that made his heart lurch painfully. It was a secure cabinet, obviously used to store weapons. He'd owned a similar one himself once.... But it wasn't the remembrance of Charlie that was chilling him right now, it was the fact that the cabinet door stood open, its contents gone. There was no sign that it had been broken into, which meant only one thing. Wherever Sam had gone, she'd felt the need to be armed. Shit.
"Jack!" Daniel's urgent call startled him. "I think you should see this."
As he joined him in the living room, Daniel held out a piece of paper. "I found it on the floor, next to a map," he said, his tone anxious and distressed.
Jack read the brief note and felt his blood freeze. 'A little indiscretion, Major?' What the hell did that mean?
"It sounds like someone was trying to blackmail her," Daniel said, shaking his head in bemusement. "But what could Sam have ever done to...?" Something in Jack's face must have shown, because Daniel's words stammered into silence.
Jack said nothing, sickened. Why hadn't she told him? But he knew the answer even as he asked the question; she hadn't told him because he'd done everything he could to push her away over the last few weeks. And apparently it had worked.
"Jack?" Daniel said. "What the hell are we going to do?"
Good question. "You find those co-ordinates on the map," he said. "I'll make sure we haven't missed anything."
Sick with fear he headed quickly into the kitchen. Her half-eaten breakfast was still on the table, the telephone discarded on the floor. He picked it up and returned it to the table and as he did so his eyes fell on a photograph. It took a moment for him to understand what it was he saw, but as recognition dawned he felt himself turn to ice. With a slightly trembling hand he reached down and picked up the picture - there was no doubting what or who it was. He closed his eyes in horror. "Sam," he breathed quietly, "why didn't you tell me?" And suddenly all he wanted to do was be with her, wherever she was, be with her and hold her and make everything right.
"I've got it," Daniel said as he rushed into the kitchen. "It's up in the mountains."
Hurriedly scooping the pictures from the table, Jack stuffed them into his pocket and turned around. "Good," he said, his voice as grim as he felt. "Let's go."
"Don't you think we should, ah, tell General Hammond what's going on?" Daniel asked, as Jack pushed passed him and headed for the door.
"No time," he replied, half-lying. "We'll fill him in when we've sorted this out." Maybe. In part. Sam had obviously decided to handle this her own way and he'd be damned if he'd betray her confidence. For anything or anyone.
***
Looking through eyes that were no longer hers, Sam saw her own face staring back at her from the mirror. No longer dressed in her own clothes, her body was draped in the scant, yet extravagant, garb of the Goa'uld. Her hair, once unruly, was smooth and sleek, ornamented with a dainty circlet that glittered in the room's soft light. 'I look like a whore,' she thought to herself, disgusted by the image before her but physically unable to turn away.
Hakraa stirred, her mind restless. Sam could feel her presence like a great weight pressing down on her fragile consciousness with malevolent evil. But for some reason the Goa'uld could not touch her and she was herself still; she was still Sam Carter, though she had no control over the body she inhabited. She had been reduced to nothing more that a silent observer of her own life, but as Daniel had so often insisted, something of the host remained. In her case, everything.
She felt a beat of anger, irritation tinged with an edge of fear. But the emotion was not her own and in the mirror she saw Hakraa's face twist into a scowl. "Bring me the human," she said, her voice deep with the resonance of the Goa'uld. Behind her, Sam heard the gentle clink of armor as a Jaffa departed on the errand.
In a few moments she heard a door open and Hakraa turned around. Sam wasn't surprised to see Mayborne standing before her, looking uneasy. Well he might. The anger she sensed from Hakraa was cold and bitter. "This host is not all that you promised," she said, her words causing Mayborne to blanch.
"B...b...but..." he stammered.
Hakraa ignored him. "The memories of the Tok'ra are protected. I cannot retrieve them."
"Our deal...," Mayborne began.
"Is incomplete until I have the information I require," Hakraa snapped, her lips curling into a smile. It was an odd sensation, Sam thought, to feel someone else's smile upon your face. "The host," Hakraa said then, "has access to the Tok'ra's memories, but she will need some *encouragement* to reveal what she knows." The words and the accompanying feeling of cruel anticipation filled Sam with a sudden, icy dread.
"What is it you wish me to do?" Mayborne asked, his voice trembling with his own fear.
"Samantha Carter has a weakness," Hakraa said slowly, enjoying the tension building in the room. "I intend to exploit it." Mayborne licked at dry lips, while Sam's mind raced in a desperate attempt to understand her enemy's plan. The Goa'uld's smile was callous. "Do you know of a Colonel Jack O'Neill?"
'NO!' Sam screamed the word in impotent protest. 'Oh God, no!'
Mayborne's face split into a cold smile. "I do," he replied, his confidence returning. "I can...." But Hakraa held up a hand for silence, her attention turned inwards and Sam realized that the Goa'uld had heard her silent scream.
"Yes, Samantha," she said out loud. "I heard you." Sam could feel her pleasure, sense it in the curl of her lips. "I see my choice was correct."
'Leave him alone,' Sam warned her. 'This has nothing to do with him. He knows nothing about the Tok'ra.'
Hakraa smiled. "I care not what he knows. You have all the knowledge I need. Give it to me now and I will spare him."
Sam's mind was whirling, but duty anchored her amid the turmoil of emotions. 'I'll die before I tell you what you want to know,' she told the Goa'uld. 'And so would Colonel O'Neill.'
"Given the brevity of your lives, you humans throw them away with such careless abandon," Hakraa observed. "However, death is not what I had in mind for your Colonel, Samantha. At least not straight away. But when he begs you to tell me what you know, I think you will Samantha. I know you, remember?"
Sam knew that bravado was useless, the creature could see right into her heart. So she decided that truth was the only way to attack this monster. 'Maybe,' she conceded, 'but you don't know Jack. He'll never beg. He'd never do that to me.' Her absolute faith in him was a barb that hit home and she felt Hakraa bristle, troubled. 'You're going to lose this, Hakraa,' she added, feeling the stirrings of hope. 'Why don't you just give up now? I'll never give you Jolinar's memory. Never.'
The Goa'uld was irritated and Sam could feel her brooding anger crowding around the little island sanctuary in her mind. But she refused to be cowed. 'Give it up,' she pressed. 'Let me go, while you can.'
It was a taunt too far. "Silence!" Hakraa snapped, startling Mayborne who'd been listening to the strange, one-sided conversation with growing alarm. But she turned on him now. "Tell me how I can find O'Neill," she hissed. "There are ways to hurt a man more deeply than with physical pain."
Sam's mind recoiled from the malevolence she felt in Hakraa's words, and had she possessed the means she would have started shaking. 'Oh, Jack,' she thought, 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'
***
The parking lot was cold and empty, but for Jack's car. Daniel watched him as he walked slowly across the gravel, his eyes searching the ground, the surrounding trees, anything, for a clue as to what had happened. Nothing. No evidence of a struggle, no sign of Sam or her car. It was cold and empty, mirroring exactly the feeling in his heart. Sam had gone. Someone had set out to hurt her, emotionally or physically, and now she was gone. He couldn't decide if he was more angry or scared, but either way he knew that hanging around the empty parking lot was doing no one any good.
But Jack wasn't in the mood to leave. Not yet. Daniel didn't know what he'd been expecting, but his disappointment at finding the place empty when they'd arrived had been tangible. He'd leaped out of the car as if expecting to see her emerge from the trees, but when he'd called her name there had been no reply. Nothing but cold, empty silence.
And they'd been there over an hour now, scouring the ground, looking for...who knew what? Evidence? A clue? Daniel sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and starting out across the lot towards him, hoping that this time his reasoning would be met by more than a stony silence. His own eyes were riveted to the ground as he walked and something suddenly caught his eye, glittering gold in the pale sunlight. Crouching down he pulled it from beneath the gravel and his heart twisted so hard he thought it might stop. Sam's necklace. The one she had told him Taran had given her; the one he knew had come from Jack. Standing up slowly he had to work the moisture into his mouth before he could speak. "Jack," he called softly, "I've found something."
Jack was at his side in an instant, and as he dropped the broken chain into his friend's hand Daniel saw his face crack. A breath caught harshly in his throat as his fingers closed over the necklace and his eyes squeezed shut, though the gesture did little to mask the desolation on his face. But the moment quickly passed and when Jack's eyes opened again they were cold, flat and determined. "At least we know she was here," he said quietly, running his thumb absently over the slender chain, his gaze fixed on the ground. Daniel was about to reply when Jack's face drew into a sharp frown; he'd seen something else. Following his gaze, Daniel saw nothing until Jack stepped forward and dropped into a crouch, tracing something lightly across the ground with his fingertips. A circle, slightly scorched. Daniel recognized it even as his mind refused to accept what he saw.
"It can't be," he blurted out. "We'd have detected a Goa'uld ship...."
Jack just shook his head and stood up. "Guess we didn't," he replied in a tone as frighteningly controlled as anything Daniel had ever heard.
His mind was spinning, his capacity for thought knocked for a loop by their discovery. "What the hell are we going to do?" he said at last.
"Easy," Jack replied, turning and heading back to the car. "We're gonna find her and kill the son-of-a-bitch responsible for this."
***
General Hammond had heard nothing from O'Neill or Jackson for over two hours, and even his legendary patience was beginning to run thin. What the hell had happened? And why the hell hadn't they reported in? He sat at his desk, nursing a cooling cup of coffee and pretending to read one of the reports piled up in his in-tray. But his thoughts wouldn't stay focused for more than a couple of minutes before they wandered back to Sam Carter and her team. Something had happened. He knew that now, with a certainty that pulled all his muscles into a morbid, dread tension. Something had happened and all that remained was to discover how bad. He prayed it wouldn't be the worst.
Fortunately for his embattled nerves, the General didn't have to wait long. Without even knocking, Jack O'Neill burst into his office looking pale and angry. Daniel trailed behind, his own expression grim. Glancing between them, Hammond rose slowly to his feet. "What's going on, Colonel?" he asked and braced himself for the worst.
"She's gone," Jack snapped. "The Goa'uld took her."
Worse than the worst, *that* wasn't a scenario even his darkest imaginings had prepared him for. "How?" he managed to ask, almost too stunned to comprehend their full meaning.
"A ship must have been in orbit," Daniel said quietly. "Looks like they took her using their transport rings."
Hammond was shaking his head before Daniel had finished talking. "We'd have detected a Goa'ald ship in orbit," he protested.
"With respect, sir," Jack butted in, "we didn't. But it was, and now Carter's gone and we have to get her back. Right now."
Nodding, Hammond agreed with the man. "Of course, Colonel," he said slowly. "Any idea how?"
Jack's face tightened and the General suddenly became aware of something else lurking beneath the anger of a protective CO. He knew SG-1 were close, but he saw a flash of desperation in Jack's eyes that he'd never seen before; the desperation of a man whose whole world was under threat. With a sigh, he filed that little piece of information away to worry about later. Now wasn't the time. He strode around his desk, heading for the control room. "We need to see if we can find the damn ship, first," he decided as he walked.
Falling in behind him, Daniel muttered, "If it's still here."
"It has to be," Jack snapped and Hammond could feel the tension coiled in the man walking at his side.
Endeavoring to divert the subject slightly the General said, "Do you have any idea how they found her?"
"No," Jack said immediately - a little too fast for Hammond's liking.
Glancing sideways he watched O'Neill's face, impassive but for the towering anger raging behind his dark eyes, and knew that he was hiding something. "Colonel," he said slowly, "I needn't remind you that any information you have that might assist us in locating Major Carter...."
"I don't know how they found her, sir," he repeated. And behind him Hammond heard Daniel sigh slightly, and scowled. Damn it.
But he had no further time to dwell on what was, or wasn't, going on in SG-1 for at that moment the klaxons sounded. "Off world activation. This is not a drill. Off world activation."
O'Neill broke into a run and Hammond soon found himself outstripped by the younger man and trailed him into the control room. "Report," he snapped as soon as he stepped through the door.
"No remote identification is being transmitted, sir," Lieutenant Foley reported.
Hammond nodded. "Close the iris."
"No!" Jack snapped.
Hammond fixed him with a glare strong enough to cow the toughest of old soldiers. But Jack just blinked. "It might be Sam," he said quietly.
The General didn't miss the accidental use of her first name. "Close the iris," he repeated, and then softening his tone slightly he said, "It could be the Goa'uld who took her."
"Sir?" Lieutenant Foley interrupted as the iris slid shut. "We're receiving a transmission. Audio only."
"Let's hear it."
The transmission crackled and hissed, but beneath the noise a voice was clear. "This is Major Carter. Can you hear me? Colonel? Are you there?"
Jack almost pounced on the radio. "I'm here, Carter," he said. "Where are you?"
"I'm sending the address," she replied. "Please - don't leave me here."
"Sam, can you make it to the gate?" he asked, his whole body rigid with fear.
"No," she replied in a choked, tearful voice that Hammond had never heard before. "They're hurting me, Jack. Please. You have to help me."
"I will," he promised. "Just hang in there, Sam, we're on our way."
"Jack, I..." Her voice broke off to sounds of shouts, the unmistakable detonation of staff weapons and a terrified scream. And then the transmission ended.
No one in the control room moved. Behind him, Hammond heard Daniel inhale a shaky breath and then murmur, "Oh Sam."
But Jack remained motionless, his hand still on the radio and his face like a granite mask. When at last he spoke his voice was little more than a whisper, dangerous and sharp. "Tell me we got the address."
"We did," Foley replied with obvious relief.
Jack nodded and straightened up, moving his hand almost reluctantly from the radio. He nodded Daniel towards the door. "Go get Teal'c," he said. "We're going after her."
Hammond had a thousand objections, but they all slid like snow from a hot roof when he saw the fiery determination in Jack's eyes. And if he was honest with himself, he was glad. Sam Carter was a fine officer, a brilliant scientist, and a friend. And she was in terrible trouble. To hell with the objections - how could anyone refuse a plea like hers? Silently he acknowledged Jack's unasked question. "Get kitted up, Colonel," he said. "You have a go."
***
Hakraa stared down at the ugly clothing she was wearing once more. The fabric was thick and bulky, doing nothing to display the body beneath; the work clothes of a slave, she decided. Briefly she wondered why her host would wish to hide herself under such apparel, but the thought was fleeting and soon dispersed. She wore the clothing now out of necessity; and *that* thought made her smile. There were many ways of inflicting pain, but none so acute as the pain that could be teased out of the weak and fragile human heart.
At the sound of a door opening Hakraa turned and watched the Jaffa enter, bowing as was proper before his god. "The Chappa'i opens," he said quietly, his eyes on her feet.
"Good," she replied. Directing her thoughts inward she felt the growing sense of panic in the mind of her host and smiled slowly. "Take me to the holding cells," she ordered the Jaffa. Silently he complied and she followed him out of her chambers and into the cold corridors beyond.
***
As he stood watching the gate spin up, Jack cast a glance over his shoulder at the team he was leading and felt a momentary twinge of doubt. How many of them would lose their lives today? One was too many, but he was risking them all to save Sam. Did he have that right? He didn't know. He really didn't know. His feelings for her were so strong, so overwhelming that he knew his professional judgement had been thoroughly compromised. Sure, there was a tactical justification for mounting the rescue, but he knew that he didn't give a damn about the information she might reveal about the Tok'ra. Or about Earth, come to that. The only thing he cared about was Sam and getting her home; even the *thought* of losing her turned his world to ashes. What the reality would feel like he dare not imagine. And he refused to find out. But that was no reason to risk the lives of twenty men and women. No reason at all.
Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice nagged him to tell someone. To walk in and tell Hammond how he felt and... And what? Ask someone else to lead the mission? Leave her there rather than risk the lives of so many to pull her out? No. No way. Never. To abandon her now was as impossible as stopping breathing. He loved her, no matter how much he had tried to deny it over the past few weeks. He loved her and he'd do anything - he'd die - before he saw her come to harm. But did he have the right to demand the same from the men and women gathered behind him? Daniel had accused him of letting eight people die because he was afraid of losing Sam and in his heart he wasn't sure that his friend had been wrong. Was he doing the same thing again? And could he help himself if he was?
Almost as if summoned by his thoughts, Daniel came to stand at his side. They hadn't exactly been on easy terms since Sam had decided to leave and even now he could feel the tension between them. Glancing at him, Jack's own sense of unease found voice. "Are you gonna say it?" he asked quietly.
Daniel frowned. "Say what?"
"That I'm risking their lives to save Carter."
"Well, you are," Daniel agreed. "Doesn't mean I think you're wrong, if that's what you're asking. You'd do the same for them. Or me, or Teal'c."
Jack nodded slowly as he pondered the thought. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Guess I would."
"And so would Sam," Daniel added. "We're a team, Jack. Remember?"
There was a slight sharpness to the last word that drew Jack's eyes to Daniel. "I never forgot," he said softly. "Whatever you might think, I never forgot that." Uncertainty flickered in Daniel's eyes before he looked away and Jack knew there was more to say, more bridges to rebuild, but that this was neither the time nor the place.
He looked up at the control room above them and saw Hammond give him a silent nod. Taking a deep breath he took a few steps up the ramp and turned around. "Okay," he called sharply, "Major Carter is out there somewhere and we're gonna go find her. It's not gonna be pretty so stick close to your units and keep your heads up." Twenty pairs of excited, frightened, and determined eyes stared back at him and he steeled himself against the knowledge that some of them may never return.
And then, with a nod to Teal'c to join him, he turned towards the gate and barked, "Move out!"
***
Sam could hear the sound of fighting in the distance, the blast of staff weapons and the rattle of gunfire, accompanied by the yells and cries of warfare. And she felt like she was going crazy, trapped in blind darkness and unable to know what was happening. Hakraa lay on a narrow wooden bench, her feet chained together at her own request - all part of the deception. A deliberate bruise was forming over her right eye and Sam could feel the dull ache as if it were her own. But she had no power over her body, she could do nothing but wait in the darkness for Hakraa to open her eyes.
'There is still time,' the Goa'uld told her silently. 'Tell me what I wish to know, and I will kill him swiftly.'
'No deal,' Sam shot back. 'I'll never tell you. This is all pointless.'
'Pointless?' Hakraa asked. 'Is that why you are so afraid, Samantha?'
'Screw you!'
The Goa'uld laughed quietly and Sam was astonished that her own voice could be made to sound so cruel. But Hakraa said no more, for the gunfire was drawing nearer and Sam could hear the sound of running boots and the muffled bark of orders. They were coming. He was coming. And she could do nothing but lie there, the impotent bait in the trap.
"Teal'c!" Jack's voice. The sound made her heart lurch - a real, physical sensation. But she had no time to ponder its implications because at that moment she heard him hiss, "In here! I've found her!"
'Run!' she screamed silently. 'It's a trap! Get out of here!' But her voice remained stubbornly mute as she lay motionless in the dark.
"Give me that," she heard O'Neill snap, and then a staff weapon discharged close by and she heard the squeal of metal hinges as the cell door swung open. And then he was at her side, his warm hand on her throat, searching for a pulse. "Carter!" he whispered hoarsely. "Oh, God, what have they done to you?" She felt his fingers caress the bruise over her eyes. "Sam. Come on, wake up. We've gotta get outa here!"
And then slowly, torturously, Hakraa opened her eyes and Sam could see his face. He crouched at her side, watching her with a hundred emotions playing in his dark eyes. But despite the turmoil, he smiled at her. "Sam," he breathed. "Thank God."
"Jack...?" the voice was her own, but the word was spoken by Hakraa. Sam was sickened.
"Yeah," he murmured softly.
A hand reached up and gently touched his face. "You came for me," Hakraa whispered.
"Every time," he murmured, reaching his arms around her and trying to pull her upright. "Can you walk? If I help you? We have to go."
"I knew you'd come," Hakraa continued, her voice soft and seductive; one Sam would never have used. She allowed Jack to pull her upright and rested a hand against his shoulder. "Because you love me, don't you?"
'Oh Jesus,' Sam yelled silently. 'It's not me! Can't you see that? It's not me, Jack!'
"Um," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "Look, Sam this isn't exactly the time...."
Hakraa nodded, a cruel smile curling her lips as she said, "Oh yes, Jack, this is exactly the time."
He frowned, sat back a little. "Carter?" he asked. "You okay?"
Hakraa's fingers trailed down the side of his face, slid under his jaw, softly, tenderly...until they closed like a vice around his throat. Sam saw the shock in his eyes as his hands started grabbing at her wrist, pulling helplessly at it. 'No!' she screamed at the Goa'uld, 'stop it! Stop it!'
'Tell me what I need to know,' came the remorseless reply.
"Sam?" Jack managed to croak around the fingers that were crushing his throat.
And then Hakraa smiled again and Sam felt a pulse of her power flood through the body they shared. And it must have shown in her eyes because she saw the horror on Jack's face and knew that he understood the truth. "No!" he yelled - screamed - as he ripped her hand from his throat and scrabbled backward across the floor staring at her in abject horror. "No. You can't," he was shouting. "You can't take her like that.... Sam! Oh God!"
Battering wildly at the barriers that kept her trapped, Sam fought to go to him. With everything she could muster she threw herself forward - and Hakraa took a step. A wobbly, uncontrolled step, but Sam felt the sharp sting of fear in the Goa'uld's mind and it gave her hope. A thin, trembling hope, but a hope nonetheless.
"Teal'c!" Jack was yelling now, scrambling to his feet. "Daniel!" His gun was leveled at her, shaking as he gazed at her with hatred and grief mingling in his eyes. "Damn you," he hissed. "Damn you, you godforsaken son-of-bitch, I won't let you do this to her."
Behind Jack, Sam saw Teal'c and Daniel appear. For an instant confusion marred both their faces until Teal'c frowned. "She is Goa'uld," he said stiffly.
"Oh no," Daniel breathed, his face paling with his own bitter memories. "Not Sam. Not Sam...."
"We have to take her back with us," Jack started saying. "We can get the damn snake out of her...."
"Silence," Hakraa snapped.
"Screw you!" Jack growled. "Teal'c, go find...."
He never finished his orders, for at that moment Hakraa clapped her hands and the corridor beyond the cell suddenly erupted with Jaffa. Gunfire rattled again, but was swiftly silenced. "You have given your last order, Jack," Hakraa said slowly. "Now you will obey mine."
He glared at her with a look of such venomous hatred that Sam found herself quailing before it. "I'd rather die," he spat.
Hakraa smiled. "All in good time, Colonel," she said smoothly.
***
Three days. It had been three days, and Daniel was still sitting in the cold, dark, stinking cell. He'd had no food and only a little, foul water to wet his lips. And he considered himself lucky. Very lucky. He sat now with his back against the damp stone wall and his face pressed against his knees, wrapping his arms around his head in an effort to keep the sounds of nightmare from his ears. Oh yes, he considered himself very lucky.
Somewhere, not far away, Jack was screaming. It had taken a while, but at last his stubborn silence had broken into venomous curses, which in their turn had cracked into the screams that rang through the darkness of their prison. And had continued, on and off, for the best part of two days. Daniel found himself shaking, unsure if it was the sounds or the penetrating chill that was reducing him to the trembling ball of terror.
"This isn't real," he muttered to himself, trying for the hundredth time to deny the truth; Sam wasn't a Goa'uld and she wasn't torturing Jack. It couldn't be true, it couldn't be real.
"It is real." Teal'c stood near the door to their cell, standing sentinel and watching for Jack's return. "And we must escape. While O'Neill still lives."
Still shaking, Daniel lifted his head and tried to draw strength from Teal'c's stoicism. The man was right; cowering in the dark would do no one any good. Another scream drifted to him on the prison's fetid air, a scream that choked off into silence. He shivered but ruthlessly ignored the sickening sound, using the anger it provoked to fuel his determination to escape from the monster that had stolen Sam. He forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around his body in a vain attempt to keep himself from shaking. "So, what's the plan?" he asked.
"To escape."
Nodding, Daniel said, "Yeah. I got that bit. It's the 'how' that's puzzling me. It's not like we have any weapons, or a way out, or...."
"Shhh!" Teal'c interrupted, raising a hand to silence him. "They are coming."
Sure enough Daniel heard the clink of armor in the distance, accompanied by a lighter tread that he recognized painfully as Sam's - what used to be Sam's. Out of the darkness the Jaffa appeared, flanking Hakraa, and the barred door to their cell was flung open. "Stay back," the Jaffa ordered, staff weapons leveled.
"Where's Jack?" Daniel asked, his eyes fixed on Sam's face. It didn't look like her, he realized with an odd sense of relief. There was a cruelty in the curl of her lips that he'd never seen on Sam's face and a flat chill in her eyes that deadened their usual brilliance. No, it wasn't Sam. Sam was dead, like Sha're. Another victim of the Gua'uld. Another reason to keep fighting. Another reason to win.
"You humans are weak," Hakraa said, answering his question. "He succumbed more quickly than I had anticipated." With a nod to the Jaffa, Daniel saw them break ranks to allow another two men to drag Jack forward and fling him into the cell. He was barely conscious but just managed to stay on his knees until Teal'c crouched down at his side and helped ease him to the ground.
"Guess you didn't get what you wanted?" Daniel asked her, half-proud of Jack for not breaking, and half-terrified that he'd be next. And that he wouldn't be as strong.
But the Goa'uld's response wasn't what he'd been expecting. Her face creased into an angry frown as she said, "Never is a long time. He *will* beg." Not understanding her words, Daniel was about to respond when Hakraa added, "Perhaps, but there's nothing more painful than to die at the hands of the one you love. Would you give him such a death?" And then, after a moment, "Silence!" Without another word she span on her heel and stalked out of the prison, leaving the Jaffa to slam home the cell door before abandoning them alone in the darkness once more. Daniel was puzzled by her strange words, but had no time to ponder them further because Teal'c called for his assistance.
"O'Neill needs help," he said grimly. "But we have none to offer." Then he nodded at Daniel. "Give me your jacket - we can make him comfortable, at least."
Daniel did as he was asked and knelt down at his friend's side. There were no obvious signs of injury, no bruises, no blood; the Goa'uld hand device left no physical trace of its agonies. But Teal'c was right, Jack needed help. Daniel was no doctor, but from the pallor of his face, the way his limbs were twitching and the touch of blue to the lips, he knew that Jack was approaching his limit. He sighed, "He looks like shit," he said quietly as Teal'c cushioned Jack's head on his jacket. "Do you think he'll make it?"
To his surprise, Jack answered. "I feel like shit," he muttered. "But yes, I'm gonna make it." He opened his eyes then and they were unfocused and bleary, but they were still Jack. A ghost of a bitter smile touched his lips as he said, "She didn't even ask me any questions."
***
Sam was in hell. Worse than hell. And she knew what she was talking about. Trapped in her own body, watching as her hands reduced the man she loved to shivering agony on the floor, she could do nothing but scream silent curses at the creature in her head. But worse than the physical pain was the horror she saw in Jack's eyes when he looked at her; she knew that when he saw her face now he saw the face of his enemy, of his torturer. And the anguish that caused her was almost as severe as the pain Hakraa was inflicting on him through the hands that had once held and loved him. This was hell, for sure.
But she planned to get out. Oh, yes. When Hakraa had first attacked Jack, Sam's shock and horror at the sight had surged through her with a power that had surprised her. And she'd taken a step towards him; her mind had beaten back the Goa'uld's and she had reclaimed her body. Just for a moment, but that was enough for Sam, and it hadn't taken her long to understand the implications of what had happened. She had realized what she should have known from the start - that this joining wasn't complete, that it wasn't like Jolinar, their minds hadn't blended. They were separate; two distinct identities at war in the same body. Hakraa's mind was older and more aggressive, but Sam knew that she was stronger and more tenacious. Plus she had the home-field advantage; this was *her* body and it wasn't taking kindly to it's alien invader. She could feel the fever starting to drag at her limbs, sense a sharper pain in the symbiote as her body martialed its defenses and joined her assault on the interloper.
And so, as she had watched in helpless rage as Jack curled in agony at her feet, she had used her anger to stoke the fires. She'd pushed at Hakraa, taunted and teased her. Poked and stabbed out at her, fought with all she was worth to reclaim her life. It was the only way to stop what was happening to Jack; it was the only way to save his life and her own.
But it was hard. Focusing on her war with Hakraa when she heard the screams ripped from his throat by her own hand was almost impossible; just as Hakraa hoped. 'Tell me' the Goa'uld demanded, each time Jack cried out. 'Tell me and I'll stop.'
'Never.' That was all the reply she ever gave. 'Never.' And she meant it. Jack would rather die than betray the Earth and its allies and she'd be damned if she'd let her love for him destroy everything they had worked so hard to build. She could never forgive herself for that, even if he could.
'Then I will make him beg you,' Hakraa had promised and the pain of his torture had intensified. But she'd gone too far and his final scream had choked in his throat as his mind had at last stopped fighting and collapsed into unconsciousness. The relief Sam felt as she saw him slump to the ground was immense - now it would stop, for a while at least.
But Hakraa was irritated with herself, impatient for Sam's confession and infuriated that she'd crossed the fine line between pain and oblivion. Sam knew she was usually more precise in her judgements of such things. Something was knocking her off balance, and Sam felt a little beat of satisfaction knowing that *she* was that something.
'I'll never tell you what you want to know,' Sam told Hakraa as she watched, through the Goa'uld's eyes, as Jack was thrown to his knees in the prison cell. 'And he'll never ask me to.'
"Never is a long time," Hakraa replied coldly, her impatience obvious. "He *will* beg."
'He'd rather die.'
"Perhaps, but there's nothing more painful than to die at the hands of the one you love. Would you give him such a death?"
Sam didn't answer, her mind suddenly taking a different route. 'Why are you so impatient to get to Jolinar's memories?' she asked, and felt a little pulse of anxiety in the Goa'uld's mind that told her she'd come close to the truth. 'Someone wants this information, don't they?' she realized. 'Someone more powerful than you. Someone you're afraid of.'
"Silence!" Hakraa snapped and Sam could feel real fear in her mind as the Goa'uld turned on her heel and strode out of the prison. And she smiled inside her head, proud that together she and Jack were still holding the line.
***
O'Neill felt as though his entire body was smoldering in the aftermath of a pain so intense it had the power to incinerate thought. Every muscle, every fiber of his body, burned him, and even opening his eyes renewed the pain. But he refused to bow to it and forced himself to sit up and rest his back against the cold stone wall of their cell. Teal'c stood near the barred door, watching for something - Jack had no idea what and didn't have the energy to ask. Daniel sat closer to him, legs crossed and a frown on his face as he poked at the dirt floor with one finger.
"She didn't ask you *anything*?" he asked for the second time. "Are you sure?"
Jack sighed. "I'm sure," he replied. "I think she'd have made it pretty clear if she'd wanted to know something." He closed his eyes for a moment and saw Sam's face - no, not Sam's face, Hakraa's face, cold and cruel behind it's beautiful mask.
"Did she say anything at all?" Daniel pressed.
Jack just shook his head, really not wanting to discuss it; the sight of Sam possessed by that monster was almost enough to break him on its own. Her expressive eyes full of hatred and cruelty and her mouth twisted into a mockery of the smile that had always melted his heart, filled him with such horror that it was almost paralyzing. But he refused to follow that path into the pit of grief and despondency he could feel opening up beneath him. He didn't have that luxury; he had to get them all out of here and get them home. Then there'd be time enough for wallowing in the misery of his loss.
"They why's she doing it?"
Daniel's voice broke into his thoughts and dragged Jack's mind back to the present. Shifting uncomfortably against the stone wall, he sucked in a breath against a sharp pain. "For kicks?" he suggested, letting out his breath slowly as the pain subsided.
"Doesn't make sense," Daniel replied, still scowling at the ground. "You've been in there three days. She must want *something*."
Three days? Jack shook his head. It had felt like a year. Closing his eyes again, his mind drifted back a little. "She did say one thing," he said after a moment, as he reluctantly remembered the strange words that had spilled from Sam's mouth. "She told me to beg her to stop."
Daniel's frown deepened. "Did you?"
"Of course not." The words were spoken with confidence and Jack hoped they disguised just how close he'd come to begging - it wasn't something he was proud of.
Teal'c turned around then, his brow creasing into a frown. "It is possible," he said, from where he stood by the door, "that Hakraa merely derives pleasure from your pain. Apophis would frequently do such things."
Jack cast him a weary glance. "Thanks," he muttered. "Torture for fun - that makes me feel a whole lot better."
Teal'c's reply was interrupted by Daniel. "What if you're not the one she's torturing?" he asked suddenly, his face bright with a new idea.
"It felt like me," Jack pointed out.
Daniel nodded impatiently. "Well, yes, physically," he admitted, "but mentally....?"
Jack scowled. "Daniel, I hurt too much for this. What the hell are you talking about?"
"Sam," Daniel said, eyes wide.
That got Jack's attention. "Sam?" he repeated, feeling the stirrings of hope in his heart. "What do you mean?"
Daniel sat forward eagerly, his words tripping over themselves to get out. "I thought there was something, ah, odd about Hakraa," he said, "when they brought you back here. She wasn't making any sense, her words were all disjointed."
"I too noticed this," Teal'c added, drawing closer to where they sat. "Her mind appeared to be distracted."
Daniel nodded enthusiastically. "She was talking to herself," he said. "At least, that's what it looked like. But...."
"But," Jack said, finishing his sentence, "you think she was talking to Sam?"
"Yes," Daniel said, still nodding. "I think she's torturing *you* to get Sam to tell her something."
Jack pressed a hand over his dry, painful eyes. "But I thought that when a Goa'uld took a host it knew everything the host knows? Sam said that when Jolinar...."
"That's it!" Daniel exclaimed excitedly. "Sam was host to Jolinar and that must be what's stopping Hakraa from being able to blend completely with her mind."
Hope burned a little brighter in Jack's chest as he slowly said, "Really? You mean, Carter's still in there? Fighting?"
"It's just a guess," Daniel said more quietly, "but it makes sense. Why else would Hakraa spend three days torturing you without asking you any questions? Sam must be keeping something from her that she badly wants."
Jack nodded and said, "The Tok'ra. She's protecting Jolinar's memories."
"Of course," Daniel agreed. "That's probably why she was taken in the first place. And knowing how she feels about you...." He stopped then and cast a cautious glance at Jack.
He nodded slowly, knowing that there was no point in denying it anymore. "Hakraa is using me to try and break her," he said, the thought turning him cold despite the fiery pain in his body. "That's why she wanted me to beg," he realized with a sick feeling in his gut. "She wants me to beg Sam to stop. She wants me to help break her." He closed his eyes, suddenly shivering with the realization that Sam had been watching him for the past three days. Every cry, every curse, every scream of agony had been for her benefit alone. Had the situation been reversed he doubted he could have held out so long, but he'd often suspected that the vein of steel that ran through Sam Carter was wider, deeper and stronger than his own. She had held out, and against all the odds she was still holding the line, fighting the fight.
Opening his eyes he found himself smiling into Daniel's confused face. "She's still fighting," he explained simply. "Carter hasn't broken and I'll be damned if I will."
"I think," said a voice from outside their cell, "that you're already damned, Colonel."
"Mayborne!" Jack could hardly believe his eyes as he saw the man smirking at them through the bars. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Well, I suppose," he said, casting a wary eye at Teal'c and keeping a safe distance from the cell door, "you could say I'm here to gloat."
Jack forced himself to his feet, shaking off Daniel's supportive hand as he limped towards the bars. "Somehow," he said darkly, "you get your dirty fingers into every nasty pot that's cooking, don't you?"
Mayborne just shook his head. "I'm doing what has to be done, Jack," he said. And then smiled a smug smile, "Although I admit that finally seeing your demise has been a little added bonus."
Jack could feel the wheels of thought spinning in his mind, making swift and sharp connections. "You sent the note to Carter, didn't you?" he asked in voice so cold it made Mayborne shrink back another step. "You brought her here."
But his smile remained undimmed. "An entertaining episode," he mused. "I'm surprised you didn't realize your house was under surveillance, Jack. You're getting slack in your old age. The photographs came out rather well, though, don't you think?"
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Jack hissed, flinging himself bodily at the bars. "I'll kill you!"
"Jack! Easy." He heard Daniel's voice through a mist of red anger as the man's hands pulled him back from the cell door.
But Jack had no attention for anyone but Mayborne; he had betrayed Sam into the hands of the Goa'uld, he was the one responsible for all that they had suffered and continued to suffer. Had the bars not stood between them his rage would have been vented physically, but as it was he was limited to a verbal assault. "If anything happens to her, Mayborne," he promised, in a voice dripping with fury, "I *will* kill you. Don't think I won't. Don't think I'll *ever* forget. One day, Mayborne, when you least expect it - expect it."
The flash of fear that twitched the man's face was all the satisfaction Jack could get, and it was scarcely enough to appease the wave of pure anger coursing through his body. But Mayborne quickly shrugged it off, "If I thought you'd leave this place alive, Jack," he said coldly, "I might be worried."
"Then start worrying," Jack told him. "Because we're getting out of here. All of us. And when we do, you *are* gonna pay. Trust me on that one. You're gonna pay for everything."
***
General Hammond's eyes glazed as he stared, unseeing, at the paper before him. He was writing by hand, because he didn't think it was the sort of letter that should come crisp, clean and anonymous from a printer. He'd gotten as far as "General Jacob Carter, It is with regret that I have to inform you that your daughter, Major Samantha Carter, has been declared missing in action...." And then he'd stopped.
Missing in action? According to the handful of survivors who'd made it back to the gate, Sam had become a host to a Goa'uld. How do you tell a man that his daughter has become the enemy? Hammond sighed, and rubbed a weary hand over eyes that felt dry and prickly from lack of sleep.
Even now, he thought, after living with the nightmare for three days, he almost couldn't believe it. Sam Carter had become what she most despised, and in so doing had put the lives of the Tok'ra - her own father - and her friends in the direst danger. The irony was too bitter to swallow and it left a foul taste in his mouth.
A gentle tap on the door drew his eyes from his desk. "Come," he said wearily.
"We've received a reply from the Tok'ra, sir, " Lieutenant Greene reported. "Two of them are on their way."
Hammond nodded. "Thank you." And as the Lieutenant left the room, Hammond picked up the letter on his desk and screwed it up into a tight ball, crushing it within his fist. He refused to write it, damn it. He refused. Three days. It had only been three days. SG- 1 had gotten themselves out of tough scrapes before and they could do it again. A grim smile touched his lips - one thing was for sure, there was no one who'd fight harder to get Carter home than Jack O'Neill. He'd seen that much in the man's face before he'd left, and oddly it gave him some comfort. SG-1 were together, and they'd proved time and time again that when they were together they could accomplish the miraculous. Getting to his feet and heading out to meet the Tok'ra representatives, Hammond decided that all he could do at this point was pray for a miracle.
***
Hakraa lay amid the soft, silk cushions on her bed struggling with the pain that was needling her head. It had started the previous day as a thin sliver of pain that ran up the back of her neck, but as the hours had passed it had dispersed throughout her body even as it intensified in her mind. Centered at the base of her skull the pain was radiating through her limbs in waves and she could get no rest.
'You know what's happening, don't you?' the irritating voice of her host demanded. 'You're being rejected.'
She made no response.
'We're not blended,' she insisted. 'My body's rejecting you like it would any other foreign body.'
"I will conquer you," Hakraa insisted as she shifted her aching limbs into a more comfortable position. "I will have what you know of the Tok'ra."
'Never'.
That word again. That wretched word. Did the woman know no other? "I will break you," she insisted. "I will break your Colonel O'Neill and I will make him weep before your eyes."
'Never.'
Anger flared in her mind, setting the pulse of the body she inhabited racing with the flood of adrenaline. "You are a fool," she spat, her voice loud in the silent darkness. "You do not understand what I can do - what I must do."
'I understand that you're afraid," came the response. 'And that you're desperate.'
Hakraa stayed silent. The woman was right, of course. She was afraid. Everything rested on her being able to deliver what she had promised, and time was growing short. Soon he would be here, soon he would demand his prize - and in return she would become his wife. It was an alliance that promised much - wealth, power, domination. But it came at a price and the price was the memories locked inside the mind of her host.
'Who is it?' The voice was curious, pressing. Did the woman never sleep? Never rest?
Hakraa deliberated over her response as she gazed up at the gilded ceiling high above her head. Soon enough her host would know and Hakraa realized that keeping the fact hidden served no purpose, in fact, the knowledge might just overload the burden of fear, horror and anguish she'd been piling upon her adversary. She smiled, enjoying the sensation. "Apophis," she said quietly.
Hakraa felt the jolt of terror as a physical sensation and it unnerved her a little. The woman still had some connection with her body, and that was wrong. Very wrong. She knew she would need to find a new host soon, but refused to give up this one until it had surrendered all its secrets. But time was pressing, she realized, and there was none to waste in rest - even if the pain in her head had permitted rest. Sitting up, she summoned her handmaids with a word and prepared to return to the business of extracting the information she so desperately needed.
"Tonight it will end," she promised as she rose to her feet. "You will tell me what I need to know, or you will see the man you love die in agony, cursing your name."
***
Daniel was asleep, and Teal'c's face was so deep in shadow that Jack could see nothing above his mouth. He might be sleeping, or meditating, or neither. But he was silent and so was Jack.
It was night now and the cell and fallen into a deeper darkness than before, the cold and the damp making him shiver even in his jacket. He stuffed his hands into the pockets in an attempt to warm them, and his heart missed a beat when his fingers stumbled across something he'd forgotten about.
Pulling his hand from his pocket, Jack drew out Sam's broken necklace. It glimmered dully in the scant light, but he could make out where the links had been broken. Someone had torn it from her neck. Probably Sam, he guessed. He could imagine her doing it, trying to leave a sign as she understood what was happening to her. He closed his eyes against the thought of her alone, trapped by the Goa'uld transport rings. He should have been there. If she'd only called him, trusted him enough to tell him what was happening.... If only he hadn't pushed her away, maybe she would have felt that she could.
But since the night she'd come to tell him she was leaving they'd barely exchanged two civil words. He'd gone out of his way to cut her out of his life, determined to ease the pain of her departure by distancing himself from her before she left. Sitting in the cold darkness, Jack saw the lunacy of his plan. He felt as strongly for her now as he had ever done, more so, if that were possible. Sam was suffering the worst kind of torture he could imagine; his own pain was nothing to it. What she must be enduring, trapped in her own body with that monster, unable to speak, to move, to smile.... It was a kind of living death, the thought of which turned his stomach.
Forcing his mind off the subject, his eyes returned to the slender chain in his hands and to the memories with which he always associated it. That night. That wonderful, stupid, perfect night. He knew now that it had been a mistake - hell, who was he kidding? He'd known *then* that it was a mistake, but it hadn't stopped him. And he was glad. Whatever happened now, he was glad he'd had the chance to make her understand the depth of his feelings for her.
Daniel muttered something then, something unintelligible and clogged with sleep. And the sound drew Jack's mind back to his last real conversation with Sam, on that other night. That horrible, painful night that was so far removed from the previous time she'd visited his house. She'd been tense, and her fingers had fiddled nervously with the necklace as she tried to explain why she had to leave. He'd acted like an idiot, refused to listen, refused to accept the truth that had fallen from her lips. "We've never handled it," she'd told him, and she was right, as she nearly always was. They'd never dealt with the feelings that had grown, unasked for, between them; they'd ignored, repressed, displaced or downright denied them for too long. And in the end their feelings had bypassed their brains and taken matters into their own hands - and they'd let them. They'd stood back, too tired to fight against it any longer, and allowed themselves to be swept away by the intensity of their desire to be together. There had been a horrible, helpless inevitability to it from the moment he'd been forced to confess to her - and himself - how important Sam Carter had become to him. He scowled suddenly into the darkness, "Goddamn armbands," he muttered. "Goddamn Tok'ra."
He sighed and lifted a hand to his face, wincing at the pain of the movement. He had no idea what kind of damage the Goa'uld hand device was doing, but it hurt like hell. Everywhere. 'All this to protect the Tok'ra', he thought bitterly. 'I just hope they're worth it.'
"O'Neill." The voice was Teal'c's and it startled him, coming out of nowhere like it did.
Calming his racing heart he muttered, "What?"
"They come."
Shit. He felt a sick fear knot in his belly as his ears began to pick up the sounds of feet moving towards the cell. Despite the pain that shivered through his frame, Jack forced himself to his feet. He still had some pride.
On the floor nearby Daniel sat up, blinking but alert. "They're coming back?" he asked quietly, glancing up at Jack with an expression of such alarm that Jack had to look away. He was having enough trouble dealing with his own near-panic without Daniel's sympathy.
The cell door slammed open and a Jaffa appeared in the doorway, glancing quickly around the room. When his eyes rested on Jack he raised his hand and pointed. "You," he said in a thick accent. "Come."
"Or what?" Jack asked, forcing a note of bravado into his voice and hoping it would disguise the numbing terror that was starting to freeze his legs.
The Jaffa moved, raising his staff weapon and aiming it at Daniel in one fluid motion. "Or he dies," he said.
Jack raised an eyebrow and willed his legs into motion. "Okay," he said, stuffing his hand into the pocket of his pants and dropping Sam's necklace inside; he didn't want to lose it, because he still planned on giving it back to her. One day. As he came within arms reach of the Jaffa the soldier yanked him forward and propelled him along the corridor. He glanced swiftly over his shoulder at Teal'c and Daniel, giving them all the smile he could manage; it wasn't much. But as Daniel climbed hurriedly to his feet he called out, "Remember Sam's in there, Jack. She's fighting too!"
He grasped at those words as he stumbled along the dark corridors towards his torturer and held them like a shield against what was to come. Sam was in there, fighting along side him as she so often had; he wouldn't let her down, he wouldn't give in while she was still fighting. And then a real smile touched his lips as her face swam in front of his eyes. Not the cruel, distorted features of Hakraa, but Sam with her ready-for-anything smile. She was still fighting! They were still together, still holding the line and fighting the fight. Just like they always had. His smile broadened as he clutched the thought close to his heart, burning bright against the darkness that surrounded them both.
***
Sam noticed something different about Jack the moment he was pushed, stumbling, into the room. He still looked haggard and in pain, his eyes were still dark-ringed and his hair was still disheveled, but his lips were curved into a slight smile. And as the Jaffa left them alone he looked right at her. For the first time in three days his dark eyes lifted to hers and he said, "Carter, don't tell her anything. That's an order."
She was stunned. And then relieved and overjoyed all at one. He knew! He knew she was in there, he understood what was going on. She grinned. She actually grinned, and from the slight widening of Jack's eyes she knew the expression had reached her face. Words tumbled over themselves in her mind to get out, but before she could utter a syllable Hakraa slapped her back down, hard.
'Know your place!' she hissed silently.
'My *place*,' she shot back, 'is right here.' As she spoke, Sam could feel a new wave of agony rippling through her. She felt it like a memory of pain and knew that what she felt was the suffering of the symbiote. Her body was rejecting it, using every tool at its disposal to attack the invader. 'You're losing,' she taunted silently.
Hakraa ignored her and moved towards Jack who was regarding her with a wariness that bordered on real terror. She raised her hand and he flinched, waiting for the onslaught. Sam recoiled from the sight, wishing she could turn her eyes away. But the hand device didn't activate. Instead, Sam felt fingers that had once been hers trail lightly along Jack's jaw. "Jack," Hakraa breathed softly, gently. "Why are you being so uncooperative?"
"Snakes bring out my stubborn streak."
"Then perhaps I should try an alternative means of persuasion?" Hakraa suggested, her fingers now toying with his hair. Sam shivered at the sensation, half-glad to be so close and half-disgusted by the fact that it was Hakraa and not herself who caressed his face. "Would you like that?"
Jack said nothing, his face like stone.
"Tell me, Samantha," Hakraa said than, moving closer to him. "Are you enjoying this too?" Jack backed away, but the wall behind him blocked his escape.
'Screw you!' Sam spat silently, trying not to be distracted by the fact that she could feel Jack's rapid breath against her face - what had been her face. His whole body was rigid with tension as Hakraa continued to touch his temple. And then she raised her other hand, threading her arms around his neck and bringing her lips towards his. Oh God, it was torturous. The last time they'd been this close.... Her heart started to ache with the memory. She'd always hoped that one day, when things had changed, they could recapture that night.... But not like this, not this parody of affection. It sickened her. A sound escaped from Jack's lips, strangled and desperate, as he gazed at her with wild eyes. And then, with an inarticulate cry he pushed her violently and sent her stumbling backwards.
"Get away from me!" he snarled, glaring at her as he struggled to catch his breath.
Sam felt the rage flash through Hakraa's mind as she regained her balance, and she quailed at the murderous thoughts she sensed from the Goa'uld. Ruthlessly Hakraa stalked towards Jack, violence in the tense bunching of her muscles. Without stopping her fist swung and slammed hard into Jack's jaw, the force of the blow cracking his head against the stone wall behind him. His knees buckled and he slumped to the floor, a shaky hand raised to the blood the trickled from his split lip.
"Never touch me again," Hakraa said, speaking in her own voice for a change. But her anger was short lived, soon replaced by cruel understanding. For three days Hakraa had tortured him, reduced him to shivering agony at her feet, but she'd got more reaction from him by a simple, gentle touch than from all the pain. Sam felt her heart sink as she knew that Hakraa had seen his weakness, and that the weakness was herself.
As Jack pushed himself slowly back to his feet, blinking rapidly in an apparent attempt to clear his head, Hakraa drew nearer again. This time she gave him no opportunity to push her away and grabbed his wrists, crushing them with her strong fingers as she slammed them into the wall above his head. "Don't you want me, Jack?" she asked with a slow, cold smile.
Jack ignored her words and closed his eyes. "Carter," he whispered. "Keep fighting. We're gonna beat this."
'Yes sir!' she replied, knowing he couldn't hear but not caring.
Hakraa was standing so close now that her body pressed against Jack's whole length, and Sam could feel his disgust in the tense set of each muscle. But he didn't flinch, he didn't so much as blink, as Hakraa lifted her lips to his; Sam could taste his blood on her lips as Hakraa kissed his rigid, unyielding mouth.
"Was it good for you?" he asked bitterly when she pulled back.
Hakraa ignored him and turned on her heel, taking a few steps away from him so that Sam couldn't see his reaction as the Goa'uld said, "You love this woman - Samantha Carter?"
After a long pause the reply came, curt and to the point. "None of your goddamn business."
Sam smiled a little to herself. Good answer, Jack.
"I can hurt her, you know."
'Like hell!' Sam spat.
"Carter can take care of herself," came Jack's answer. "Looks like she's putting up quite a fight in there - or why else are we playing these games?"
Hakraa turned then and gazed at him. Jack was leaning against the wall, almost nonchalant, but Sam knew him too well not to notice the way one hand was splayed against the stone, balancing him and keeping him upright. "You think you know her," Hakraa said then. "Don't you? You think you know the woman you love." Jack said nothing, but Sam saw his jaw tighten a little. "Let me tell you a few things about her that you don't know."
A sick sense of unease wormed its way into Sam's thoughts. 'What are you doing?' she hissed silently.
'There are worse ways to hurt a man than with violence,' Hakraa reminded her. 'Tell me what I need to know and I will end this. He will never know your secrets. I will leave you and go.'
That surprised her; she was offering to leave? She must really be suffering, Sam realized. A beat of optimism touched her mind, but her answer didn't waiver. 'Never.'
Hakraa's displeasure washed through her like an icy wave and Sam felt her lips curl into a cruel smile. "Did she ever tell you that she's glad Charlie died?" Hakraa said then, her tone almost conversational.
'What?!' Sam felt her heart constrict as she saw the briefest flicker of pain cross Jack's face.
"She's glad he died," Hakraa persisted. "Because that's why Sara left you - and that's why she can have you now. Did you know that?"
Jack's jaw was working and Sam could see him struggling not to respond, but in the end he couldn't help himself. "Bullshit," he said at last.
"Really?" Hakraa replied. "Does she ever talk to you about them?"
'No!' Sam objected despite herself. 'It's personal.'
Jack said nothing, just watched with eyes so dark they were almost black.
Hakraa changed tack. "Did you know that she's afraid that you love her more than she loves you? That she pities you, aging alone, trying to pretend your life isn't slipping away as you...."
Jack cut her off mid sentence. "I don't care," he said sharply. "Carter's my second in command, how she feels about me is irrelevant. All that matters is fighting the fight. And she does that damn well." He raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't she?"
Despite her horror at Hakraa's lies, Sam felt a grin tug at her mind as she sensed the Goa'uld's frustration. Jack wasn't bending, he wasn't budging an inch. And neither was she. Jack must have sensed it too, because he smiled around his bloody lip and said, "What is it you want from me? You want me to order her to tell you about the Tok'ra?" Sam's inner smiled broadened at his understanding. "Well I won't," he finished. "I'll *never* do that. Never. So you might as well kill me, or whatever the hell it is you have planned, because there's no way I'm *ever* gonna help you break Carter."
Hakraa stepped closer to him again, a smile on her face and murderous intent in her heart. Sam felt sick as a wave of panic flooded through her mind. 'Don't do it!' she yelled suddenly, horrified that this might be it. That she'd kill him where he stood, before her helpless eyes.
"Then tell me," Hakraa said, raising her hand. Sam felt the rush of power course through her body as the hand-device sprang to life and watched as Jack braced himself against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Tell her nothing," he said in a voice that shook with the effort of overcoming his obvious terror. "Direct order, Major."
She'd never seen him so afraid, or so defiant. His hands were tight fists at his side, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he waited for the pain, and the sight ignited the rage in Sam's heart. 'Don't,' she warned Hakraa, impressed by the power of her thought. 'If you hurt him again, I'll kill you. That's a promise.'
"An idle promise," Hakraa said out loud. "The only way to end this is to tell me what I must know."
'Never.'
Hakraa's head nodded. "Very well," she said calmly and sent the energy howling out of her hand, driving Jack instantly to his knees as he fought against the need to cry out. He didn't last long before a scream was torn from his throat, his hands clutching helplessly at his head.
'NO!' Sam yelled as she watched him collapse and heard his tortured cries. 'Stop it! Stop...please....'
"Tell me!" Hakraa pressed, driving Jack further onto the floor as she intensified the agony that coursed through him.
"Carter, don't..." The words were barely formed, almost a gasp, but Sam heard them as if they were a clarion bell.
'Never,' she told Hakraa, her resolve unshakeable. But this time she refused to let it end there, instead she deliberately stepped beyond the little safe-haven Jolinar had constructed and lashed out with her thoughts against the Goa'uld mind. Before her she saw her hand waiver as she struggled with Hakraa for control, but the Goa'uld was strong, her mind reinforced by the power that rippled through her body. Quickly, Sam followed that power until she found it's source in the creature that had stolen her body. And with nothing more than an act of pure will, she snapped it off and the hand-device darkened instantly. Jack sucked in a shuddering breath as the pain ceased, pushing himself onto his hands and knees but unable to rise further.
Hakraa was thrown off-balance by Sam's sudden attack, but Sam herself was exultant. She understood the truth now; with Hakraa's physical form weakening under the assault from her body's immune system, she was an equal match. She no longer needed to cower behind Jolinar's protection, she had the power to reclaim her body and her life.
'I warned you,' she said bleakly, feeling the fear in Hakraa's mind. 'I warned you to go.'
'You have not won,' Hakraa said, her voice silent. 'I can still....'
"Can you?" Sam asked, the joy of hearing her own words on her lips almost making her dizzy. Stiffly, not quite in control and fighting Hakraa the whole way, she lifted her hand up before her face and, with shaking fingers, began to rip the hand-device away.
On the floor at her feet, Jack shifted and looked up at her. His eyes were glazed with pain and she could tell he was barely conscious, holding on by nothing more than his determination not to succumb. He blinked once as he watched the hand-device clatter to the floor, and said, "Carter?" His voice was scarcely above a whisper, but held so much hope that Sam felt her throat choke.
Still struggling to make her body do as she bid it, Sam dropped to her knees at his side. "Yes, sir," she said, smiling. "It's me."
He just nodded as the color drained from his face and he pitched forward towards the floor. Sam only just caught him before his face hit the ground, but as she rolled him onto his back, cushioning his head in her lap, she heard him murmur, "I knew you'd win, Sam. I knew...." And then the darkness took him and he said no more.
***
Hunger and thirst were beginning to drive Daniel between nausea and faintness as he sat in the cold dark of his cell. Even Teal'c seemed defeated, his head hung low onto his chest as he slumped near the barred door. What hope of escape was there? Sam was gone, and Jack.... He shuddered to think about the blood-curdling screams that had rung through the whole prison. And, worse, about the silence that had followed; just as awful and more terrifying in its implications.
He let his head sink to his knees again and his mind drifted towards Sha're and the year they'd had together. Squeezing his eyes shut he could almost imagine himself out of the horrors of the present and into the safety and comfort of those golden days. But his escape was short lived. The clank of metal and the heavy tread of feet brought his head up as he glanced at Teal'c, their eyes meeting in the gloom.
"They return," the Jaffa said slowly.
Daniel swallowed. "That was quick."
Forcing himself to his feet, he closed his eyes briefly against the wave of light-headedness that spun his world. And when he opened them again, he saw the door to their cell swinging open. A Jaffa stood there, and over his shoulder hung Jack's limp body. Daniel's heart turned to ice - he was dead.
"Put him down," ordered a voice from behind the Jaffa. Sam's voice, laced with the superciliousness of the Goa'uld.
Obediently, the Jaffa dropped O'Neill to the floor, giving Teal'c a scant moment to catch him before his head cracked against the stone. His large fingers felt at Jack's neck and Daniel held his breath until Teal'c nodded once. "He lives," he murmured. "Barely."
Hakraa stepped into the cell now, lifting her skirts above the dirt on the floor. She glanced imperiously around the small, stinking room, before she turned to the Jaffa and said, "Your weapon - give it to me." The Jaffa blinked, surprise evident even in his impassive face. Hakraa's eyebrows raised slightly and she held out her hand. Obediently, although with a suspicious glance at the prisoners, the Jaffa complied. As Hakraa's hand closed over the weapon, Daniel found himself holding his breath again. Was she going to kill them herself? Had she gotten what she needed from Sam? "Leave us," Hakraa commanded.
"My Lady...?" the Jaffa began, but before he could continue Hakraa span around, her hand lifted and the device that covered it springing to life.
"I will allow you to live," she said coldly. "This once. Leave, before I change my mind."
With a deep bow, the Jaffa departed hurriedly and as his footsteps echoed down the hall as Hakraa turned back towards them. She said nothing, just watched, her eyes fixed on Jack's pale face until the Jaffa's footsteps fell into silence. And then she closed her eyes and slumped back against the wall, her face crumpling as if in pain.
Daniel frowned and cast a questioning glance at Teal'c. But the Jaffa seemed as confused as he was. After a moment, Hakraa opened her eyes and said, "Daniel, Teal'c - it's me. It's Sam."
Hope flared in Daniel's heart until he saw Teal'c's subtle shake of the head. "She lies," he said coldly. "The Goa'uld is still within her."
"I'm not lying!" she insisted. "I...agh!" Abruptly she doubled over in pain, the staff weapon falling from her hand as she clutched at her stomach.
Without hesitating, Teal'c dashed for the fallen weapon and raised it against her. She'd fallen to her knees and glanced up at him as she tried to catch her breath. "Teal'c," she hissed, "the blending didn't work...Jolinar..." She gasped in pain again, her eyes widening. "Please, I don't have long...I can get you out of here...."
Jolinar. Daniel found himself nodding. "She could be telling the truth," he said quietly. "If we were right that Hakraa was torturing Jack to get Sam to reveal what Jolinar knew of the Tok'ra, then it could only be because the blending didn't work.... Sam's body could be rejecting the Goa'uld - that would be why she's in so much pain."
"It is," she said, struggling to her feet as the pain receded. "She's still in here, but I'm stronger now." She gave a weak smile, "More or less. But we don't have long. I can get you to the Stargate, but we have to hurry - soon I won't be able to..." She winced again and caught her breath. "Damn," she whispered.
And then Daniel smiled, relief and joy washing away his fear and despair. "Sam," he breathed, taking a step closer. "We thought we'd lost you."
She nodded slightly. "Not yet," she murmured, reaching out to touch his arm. "Come on, let's go."
Between them, Daniel and Teal'c dragged O'Neill to his feet. His head lolled alarmingly at first, but the movement seemed to rouse him a little and his eyes flickered open. But when he caught sight of Sam he flinched back, a frightened moan spilling from his lips. "It's okay," Daniel assured him hurriedly, "it's Sam. She's back."
Sam's face hardened when she saw Jack's reaction to her. But as she took the staff weapon from Teal'c's hand, all she said was, "Probably best if he doesn't remember. We're going to have to fool a lot of people before we get to the gate." She turned a dark smile on Daniel, "Try to look scared," she suggested.
His own smile was equally dark. "I think I can manage that."
She nodded once and turned away, leading them out of the cell and towards home.
***
Jack drifted in a dark and foggy world somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, but slowly he became aware of motion. His arms hurt and there was pressure on his shoulders. He was hanging - hanging by his shoulders. His eyes flickered open and the ground passing beneath his dragging feet told him that someone was pulling him along. But he couldn't quite make sense of it; his mind was fragmented, out of alignment and nothing made any sense. Memories flashed in and out, faces, feelings, but he couldn't understand them. He felt scrambled, disoriented.
He heard words ahead of him and felt himself slow to a halt. Slowly, painfully, he raised his head. He was before a door and Carter was there. He almost smiled. Carter. Sam Carter. Yeah, he knew her. With eyes weary and blinking, he turned his head and saw Daniel's sharp features next to him, staring at Sam's back. Licking at dry lips he managed a feeble croak. "What's happening...?"
Daniel seemed startled by his words and dropped his head, whispering, "Shh, not now."
Forcing his eyes to refocus on Carter, Jack saw that she was arguing. No, not arguing, ordering. "Are you questioning me?" she was demanding of a tall man who stood before her.
"No," he hurriedly replied, bowing low. "But Lord Apophis is quite insistent that he sees you now."
Apophis. Jack felt Daniel stiffen at the mention of the name, and it sent a little sliver of fear down his own spine. Yeah, that brought back a few memories. None of them good.
"Lord Apophis can wait," Carter snapped. "Show him to my audience chamber."
The man paled. "Wait...?" he breathed.
"Stand aside," Sam said, raising her hand. The simple gesture sent a shock-wave of fear through Jack, accompanied by a roll of nausea in his stomach. And the memories crashed in; not Carter, but Hakraa. He squeezed his eyes shut. Carter was gone, taken, she was.... And then another memory surfaced, vague and hazy. She held his head in her lap, stroked his face... "It's me." Yes, he remembered now. She'd won, she'd beaten it. She'd held the line when it had stretched so thin that a breath could have shattered it.
The hiss of a door sliding open drew his attention and his eyes opened again. Sam was leading them into a large, empty room at the heart of which stood a sight that sent his soul soaring. A Stargate. She was taking them home. Behind them the door hissed shut and she turned around to face them. She was pale, her large eyes wide and betraying a hint of fear beneath their luminous surface. "Daniel," she murmured. "Dial up. Quick. You don't have long."
It was only when Daniel let go that Jack realized he'd been holding him upright. Teal'c moved to take more of his weight, but Jack shook him away. "I'm okay," he muttered, even as he swayed on his feet.
Carter's eyes shot to his as he spoke and he saw fathomless relief in their depths. "Sir," she breathed taking a step closer. "Thank God. I thought...." She bit off her words and closed her eyes, unable to finish her thought.
He smiled at her and reached out to touch her face. "You won," he murmured.
But she shook her head, stepping backward and out of his reach. "Not quite," she replied. Behind her the Stargate whooshed open and they were suddenly bathed in its shimmering light. Glancing over her shoulder she said, "Go. Now."
Mistaking her meaning, Jack moved to take her arm. "Come on," he said, but she pulled away and stopped.
"I can't."
He blinked. On the steps of the gate Daniel called out, "Come on! What's the hold up?"
But Jack's attention never left Sam's face. He saw grief and pain there, and an overriding determination. "Hakraa is still inside me. I can't go back like this - I'd be putting you all in terrible danger. I don't have full...." And then she crumpled forward, doubled over in agony. "Please," she gasped. "Go."
"Yeah, right," Jack muttered, easing her to the floor. Had he been stronger he'd have scooped her into his arms, but at the moment it was all he could do to keep himself upright. "Teal'c!" he called. "Get over here and...." But his order was interrupted by the sound of marching feet coming from beyond the door.
"Apophis!" Daniel guessed immediately.
Shit. "Teal'c," Jack yelled, "keep the damn door shut!"
Teal'c was moving even before Jack had finished speaking, grabbing the staff weapon Sam had dropped and using it to blast the door mechanism, jamming it shut. It would buy them a couple of minutes, no more.
Sam was coughing now, her hands suddenly clutching at her throat as she started to gag. A thin trail of blood seeped from between her lips as she choked, dribbling down her chin and dripping onto the floor. Jack's legs practically collapsed beneath him as he fell to the floor at her side. "Sam," he hissed urgently, holding her by her shoulders, not sure what to do. She looked like she was dying. "Daniel!" he yelled, knowing that he had to get her back through the gate.
Daniel was at his side in an instant, but Sam pushed his arms away as he tried to pull her to her feet. She could no longer speak, she could hardly breathe as she choked and gagged. And all Jack could do was hold her upright, hoping it would help her suck air into her lungs. "Come on, Sam," he murmured as she convulsed with another gagging retch. "Hold on."
And then, violently, she pushed him away and her eyes glowed again. "You will not..." she spat in the voice of the Goa'uld. Jack scrambled away from her and behind him he heard Teal'c's staff weapon ignite. And then she screamed, a gurgling terrifying sound, and collapsed to her hands and knees gasping for air. Pushing himself shakily to his feet, Jack watched in fascinated horror as something slowly crawled its way out of her mouth.
Smeared in blood, the Goa'uld dropped to the floor leaving Sam retching and gasping for air, her eyes wide with horror as she watched the creature start to scuttle across the floor. None of them moved for a moment until Sam launched herself onto her feet, yanked the weapon from Teal'c's grasp and fired at the creature. It squealed, shivered and then lay dead.
Sam's blue eyes were as dark as storm clouds as she took two steps towards the smoking remains of Hakraa. "I warned you," she whispered in a chill, angry voice, before she deliberately crushed her heel into the creature's head. Jack had to swallow hard against the hatred he saw in Sam's face; it was so unlike her.
She turned to them then, wiping a hand across her mouth in an attempt to removed the blood that clung to her lips. "Let's go home," she said in a ragged and damaged voice. Jack just nodded to her and as the angry shouts and blasts of energy built to a crescendo behind them, SG-1 walked slowly and deliberately back through the Stargate.
***
The two files Doctor Fraiser carried as she walked slowly along the corridor were both heavy, stuffed full of notes and miraculous escapes. Stuffed full of notes that, had they ever leaked from beneath the mountain, would have had a few medical eyes on stalks. She shook her head at the thought of all the papers she'd *never* get to publish, and slowed to a halt as she approached her destination. Raising a hand she rapped on the door.
"Come in," came the General's voice and she turned the handle.
As always, he sat behind his desk, a friendly smile on his face despite the line of worry that was etched between his eyebrows. "Doctor Fraiser," he nodded, rising slightly to his feet. "Thank you for sparing the time - I know how busy you are." "Yes, sir," she said, taking the seat he offered and perching the heavy files on a corner of his desk.
Leaning back in his chair, Hammond steepled his fingers before him and said, "So, how are they?"
There was no question about who "they" were. Janet took a deep breath and said, "Physically, sir, they're going to be fine. I think." The General raised an eyebrow at her reservation and she added, "Major Carter's throat was damaged as the Goa'uld left her body, but there are no other signs of infestation. She'll have a sore throat for a few weeks, but she'll be fine." She paused, considering how to continue. "Colonel O'Neill, I'm less sure about. He's lucid, but there was quite a lot of neurological damage. It should heal, but I don't know how fully or how long it might take. My guess is a few weeks, but it maybe a couple of months before he's fit for duty again."
Hammond nodded, his sharp eyes skewering her. "So much for the physical injuries," he said. "How about the rest?"
"Yes," Janet sighed. "Well, that's where we might have problems, sir. Emotionally, they're both - quite fragile."
Hammond frowned, his soldier's mind failing to comprehend the subtleties of the human heart. Janet felt she needed to elaborate. "The Colonel and Major Carter are close, sir," she said, unwilling to say more than she had to. She didn't know exactly how close and she didn't want to; that particular can of worms wasn't one she wanted to get anywhere near. "The fact that Major Carter was the one torturing Colonel O'Neill makes this whole thing rather more...complicated."
A flash of confirmed suspicion twitched the General's face and he rubbed a worried hand over his balding head. But all he said was, "It was the Goa'uld, not Carter, doing the torturing. Jack knows that." "Yes," Janet agreed quietly. "But..." She licked at her dry lips and raised her eyes to Hammond's face. "There was an *incident* last night, sir. I blame myself."
She could tell the General was suppressing a sigh as he said, "Go on."
"It happened just after midnight. Colonel O'Neill had a nightmare - a flashback, maybe. Whatever it was, it was very vivid." She smoothed a hand over her skirt as she recounted the events, still finding the scene painful to remember. "He was quite distressed, thrashing around and calling out in his sleep. I got to him as fast as I could, but Major Carter was asleep in the next bed so she got there first. Unfortunately."
"Unfortunately?"
Janet sighed as she continued. "The Colonel was still in the nightmare I think, and when he saw Sam...." She shook her head, wishing she'd gotten there just a moment sooner. "She was trying to calm him down, or wake him up, but as soon as he saw her he just lashed out."
Hammond blinked in surprised. "He *hit* her?"
"Yes sir," she nodded. "Of course as soon as he was himself again he felt awful. But Sam...." She trailed to a halt, hardly needing to say more.
The General rubbed a weary hand across his face. "Was she hurt?"
"She's getting a pretty impressive black-eye," she sighed. "But I doubt that's where she's hurting the most. She's carrying so much guilt and self-recrimination on her shoulders that she can barely walk."
A frown creased the General's forehead as he leaned forward. "Do you have any recommendations, Doctor?"
She'd expected the question, but still didn't have much of an answer. Not really. "I've made appointments for psych evaluations for them both, but I don't know how much that will help. Theirs isn't exactly a text-book problem, and you know how the Colonel feels about any kind of counseling." She paused for a moment as Hammond nodded his agreement. "They need to work it out between themselves, sir. I can't think of any other way."
Hammond nodded and dropped his eyes to his hands folded together on his desk. "As you say, Doctor, the Colonel and Major Carter are close." He glanced up at her. "Will that help?"
Janet shrugged, her mind wondering back to the sight of Sam sitting cross-legged on her infirmary bed, holding an icepack over her eye and watching O'Neill as if she could guard his sleep against nightmares. "If it were anyone else, sir," she began, "I'd say no. But they're two of the most resilient people I know...."
"And two of the most loyal," Hammond added quietly.
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Is there anything they need?" he asked, his desire to help evident.
"Time," she said. "Lots of time." She sighed and shook her head sadly. "Time they won't have when Major Carter transfers to the Pentagon."
The General ran a frustrated hand over his head, and said, "Damn, I wish we weren't losing her."
Janet just nodded. "Yes, sir. So do I."
***
The base was almost empty as Daniel made his way from the elevator towards the infirmary, his footsteps ringing loudly in the silent corridors. It was the day after Christmas and most of the personnel were on leave, all operations scaled down to a minimum for the holiday season. It gave the whole place an eerie feeling of desolation and Daniel found himself jumping at the too loud sounds of doors closing and footsteps echoing in the distance. Shifting the package he held under his arm, he hurried on until he reached the infirmary and stepped inside.
It too was largely empty, but Janet was there with her nose buried in a stack of files, and at the far end of the room Jack still lay in bed. "Hey," Daniel said quietly as he let the door close behind him, "Merry Christmas."
Janet glanced up and smiled. "Didn't expect to see you today," she said.
He shrugged. "Got bored at home - the TV's terrible." After a brief pause he nodded towards Jack. "How's he doing?"
"Pretty good," Janet replied. "His reflexes are still a little sluggish and he's still sleeping a lot, but..." She sighed.
"What?" Daniel's heart sank; not more bad news.
Janet just smiled. "But he's getting very bored."
Daniel nodded gravely, despite the smile that tugged at his mouth. "Oh dear," he said, with real sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me you've brought something to keep him amused for five minutes," she said, glancing at the package under his arm.
Feeling a little guilty already, Daniel just nodded. "Um, yeah - that's the idea." He glanced down at Jack again. "So, how much longer is he in here for?"
"I'll probably discharge him in a couple more days," she said, and then with a rueful roll of her eyes added, "unless he gets *too* bored, in which case I might get rid of him tomorrow - for my own sanity!"
Daniel grinned at her. "Well, I'll go see if I can keep him entertained for a while."
"You have my eternal gratitude," Janet replied as she turned back around and got on with her work.
Jack looked like he was sleeping as Daniel approached the bed, but he was still at least five feet away when one eye opened. "Done discussing me with Janet?" he asked.
"She told me you were being a pain in the ass," Daniel replied, grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to the bed.
"Fraiser said that?"
"Not in so many words," he admitted sitting down. "So - how are you?"
Jack sighed and sat himself up a little straighter. "Bored," he admitted. "You?"
"Fine." Jack said no more and they dropped into silence for a moment before Daniel remembered the package he held. "Oh," he said, holding it out. "Merry Christmas."
Jack looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"
"I thought you might need something to do," he replied. And then he glanced back over his shoulder towards Janet and whispered, "Don't tell her it was from me."
With a curious half-smile Jack opened the package and pulled out the content. "One Hundred Paper Airplanes," he read and then grinned, flipping through the book. "Cool."
"Just try not to hit anything *expensive*," Daniel warned.
Jack just smiled and said, "So, did you have a good Christmas?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I went to some friends. Quiet, you know."
Jack's eyes dropped to his lap where his fingers were toying with the wrapping paper. "Did you see Carter?" he asked, as if the question were inconsequential. But the way he was twisting the paper into tight spirals gave him away.
Carefully, Daniel said, "I stopped by a couple of days ago. She seemed fine - her, ah, throat was bothering her some, but otherwise she was okay."
Jack nodded, still twisting at the paper. "Did she go to Mark's?" he asked, staring down at his fingers. "For the holidays?"
"No," Daniel said slowly. "I don't think so."
Jack glanced up then, frowning. "She spent Christmas alone?"
Feeling a little defensive, Daniel said, "I did invite her, but she said she wanted some time to herself."
"Oh," Jack nodded, his frown deepening further. "Guess I can understand that, after having had that *thing* in her head."
"Yeah," Daniel replied, watching Jack's face for a clue as to how things stood between them. But his expression was unreadable. "Has she been in to see you?" he asked after a moment.
Jack shook his head slightly. "No," he muttered. "Not since I...," he sighed. "You know."
"Her eye's much better," Daniel assured him.
With a sigh, Jack ran his hand through his hair and said, "It's not her eye I'm worried about."
"No, I guess not." Silence descended again as Daniel watched the sadness play over Jack's features. "She doesn't blame you or anything," he added after a while. "Actually, she seemed worried - she asked after you."
Jack just nodded, as if he wasn't surprised. Daniel had seen the same resignation and sadness in Sam's eyes and wondered, for the hundredth time, what exactly was going on between them. He knew it was none of his business, and he had no desire to pry. But he also knew, with an instinctive certainty, that it was behind Sam's decision to leave the team. And that, he figured, *was* his concern. After a moment's thought he leaned closer and dropped his voice as he said, "Jack, can I ask you something?"
The look he received in return was downright suspicious. "About what?"
"About Sam," he said, dropping his eyes to his knees. "About why she's leaving."
"You know what she's leaving," Jack said quickly. "New challenge, promotion. Playing with the big boys."
Daniel just shook his head. "You don't believe that," he said quietly. "Why should I?" Jack made no reply, and when Daniel glanced up he saw him flicking through the book he'd just given him as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. But Daniel could tell that his eyes saw nothing on the pages, focused inward as they were. Thinking for a moment, he decided to try a different approach. "I'm afraid it's got something to do with me," he said, his eyes fixed on Jack to assess his response.
Mild curiosity was all he achieved, but at least his eyes moved from the book back to Daniel's face. "How?"
"Because of that fight we had?" he reminded him awkwardly; he still cringed when he remembered the accusations he'd hurled at them. "Those things I said about you and Sam ganging up against me and Teal'c?"
"Oh," Jack said. "That."
"Do you think that's it?" Daniel asked. "Is that why she decided to go?" It didn't seem likely, and Sam had assured him repeatedly that it wasn't, yet he hoped it might prod Jack into giving *something* away.
And it did. Strong emotions played across Jack's face as he wrestled with the answer, and Daniel caught a glimpse of the turmoil behind those usually dark and guarded eyes. At last Jack said, "Yeah, it is."
His candor was unexpected and startling. Daniel bit his lip, unsure exactly how to deal with such openness from his friend. It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. Frowning a little he said, "Really?"
Jack shrugged. "She was afraid you were right."
"She was?" Okay, this was definitely unexpected. Jack said nothing more, just watched as Daniel started to flounder. "But...?" he began, and changed his mind. "It's just that Sam told me there was nothing going on between you guys, so I...."
"There's not," Jack told him firmly. "Swear to God, Daniel. There's not."
"Then why did she think I might be right?" he pressed.
Jack suddenly looked very uncomfortable, his eyebrows slammed down over his eyes and his jaw clenched; Daniel expected him to clam up at any moment. But he didn't. Instead, to Daniel's growing surprise, his emotions seemed to rise closer to the surface and in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, "I think you know how I feel about her."
Oh. Daniel swallowed at the quiet confession. "And that's why she left?" he asked, just as gently.
"Because she thought we couldn't handle it," Jack murmured. And then, with a sigh, he added, "I think she's wrong, but there's not much I can do about it."
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly fully understanding the position his friends were in; drawn together yet unable to act on their feelings, trapped in an emotional purgatory of their own making. He could only imagine how difficult, how empty and how painful such a place must be. "I'm sorry," he sighed, feeling like a bastard for making the whole thing worse than it had to be.
"Not your fault," Jack said brightly, the barriers starting to rise again.
But Daniel pressed on while he still had the chance. "I didn't help though, did I?" he said. "The whole 'Sam-and-Jack alliance' thing...?" He sighed, shaking his head. He'd been an idiot!
How could he have failed to understand what was happening? They were his friends! Practically his family. And instead of helping them deal with it, he'd thrown their greatest trial back in their faces like a spoiled child.
Jack's lips quirked towards a grim smile. "Well, it helped put a few things into perspective."
Pulling his glasses off in frustration, Daniel said, "No. No, it didn't. That's the whole point!"
"It is?"
He leaned closer. The world behind Jack blurred without his glasses, but the gaze he fixed on his friend was razor sharp. "I didn't mean it, Jack," he explained. "I never meant it. I was just *angry*. Very, angry. With you, and with Sam for agreeing with you. But I never meant I couldn't work with you! I can't imagine not having Sam in the team!"
"No," Jack said, very quietly, "neither can I."
Daniel's head dropped into his hands. "This is all my fault," he breathed. "I feel like such an idiot!"
"It's no one's fault," Jack told him, sounding sad and defeated. "It just happened. Shouldn't have done, but it did. And that's that."
"We can't leave it like this," Daniel said, his voice muffled behind his fingers.
Jack gave a quiet, bitter snort of laughter. "We?"
Glancing up, Daniel frowned. "Talk to her," he said. "Try to change her mind. Tell her that I was an idiot and that...."
"You think I didn't try that?" Jack asked. And then with a slight smile he added, "And I told her you were a *lot* worse than an idiot."
Daniel stared at Jack's resigned face for a moment before he quietly said, "Then there's nothing we can do?" "It's her life, Daniel," Jack said calmly. "Her decision."
After a long silence Daniel said, "You know she doesn't want to leave."
"Yeah," Jack sighed. "I know."
Daniel's head sank into his hands once more and another silence fell, long and awkward. At last Jack broke it with a poke to the top of Daniel's head. "Hey," he said, forcing humor into his voice, "I thought you'd come here to cheer me up?"
Daniel smiled despite himself. "Sorry," he sighed, sitting up straight and letting out a long breath. He thought for a moment and then said, "What are you doing for New Years?"
Jack's eyes rolled heavenward. "Lying here, probably. Why?"
"Janet said she was gonna let you out in a couple of days," he told him. And then with a glance at the paper airplane book he added, "Sooner, probably."
"Really?" Jack's pleasure was evident.
Daniel nodded. "I'm having a New Year's thing," he said. "You should come over."
"A party?"
"A gathering," Daniel amended. "Few people, drinks, food - nothing wild. I'm sure you'll be able to handle it."
Jack's eyes narrowed a little. "Thanks," he muttered. And then, with a flash of suspicion, he asked, "Who's coming?"
Daniel schooled his face into perfect innocence. "People who you'd know? Let's see...Teal'c, Janet, Simmons, Feretti, ...."
"Carter?"
"Maybe," he agreed. "I haven't asked her yet."
"Hmm," Jack said, turning away with a speculative look on his face.
"So you'll come?"
"I'll think about it."
"Great," Daniel said, getting to his feet. "Starts about eight. Bring a bottle."
***
The corridors of the SGC were quiet and still; Sam's footsteps echoed loudly through the hall as she walked slowly, lost in thought. It was New Year's eve and most of the personnel were off base, spending the holiday with friends and family.
Sam was alone. Not that it bothered her a whole lot; she was enjoying the peace after living with Hakraa in her head. The quiet emptiness seemed poignantly appropriate as she made her lonely farewell tour of the base. Trailing fingers along the wall as she walked, each room she passed seemed to conjure memories. She passed the cafeteria, closed now for the night, and thought of the hundred times she'd listened to Daniel complain about the coffee, or watched O'Neill shovel down a bowl of Fruit Loops in five seconds flat. Passing Daniel's office she tried the door, but it was securely locked. So all she could do was peer in through the small window at his haphazard, but meticulously archived collection of artifacts; she could remember the missions associated with each one of them.
Then there was her lab. She walked past it but didn't go in. It was mostly disassembled anyway, all her possessions boxed and ready to be shipped to DC. And as she thought of her lab, empty now but for the ghosts of all that had happened there, her heart jolted painfully and she wondered for the thousandth time why the hell she was leaving.
But then she remembered Jack, tortured by her own hand, and her resolve returned. Their feelings for each other had made them vulnerable, made the whole team vulnerable, and that was something she couldn't accept. She had no choice. Duty came first; it always came first.
She'd been walking for a while when her feet brought her inevitably towards the heart of the complex; the Stargate. As she swiped her card and entered the gate room her heart tripped up at the sight before her. It was as awe inspiring as it had ever been, shrouded now in silence and darkness. The only illumination came from the dimly lit control room where a lone watcher sat, keeping a constant vigil on their gateway to the stars. Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped into the room and let the door swing shut behind her. Her footsteps sounded loud as she walked slowly up the ramp, her eyes fixed on the gate until she was close enough to reach out and touch the naquada; it felt cool and smooth as she ran her fingertips lightly over one of the chevrons. Sam sighed, realizing that for more than three years this had been the center of her life, and wondered how on earth she was going to manage without it.
"Still kinda takes your breath away, huh?"
She started at the quiet words, but smiled as she recognized the voice. "Yeah, it does," she sighed. "I'm going to miss it."
Behind her, slow footsteps rang on the metal ramp as Jack walked up to stand at her side. "It's gonna miss *you*," he said, making her smile again. "We all are."
She turned to look at him then, and for once he made no attempt to hide what he felt; his eyes were shadowed with sadness. "I know," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry."
Jack just shrugged, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. "I don't think I'll ever be able to walk through this thing without thinking about you, Sam," he said quietly, a melancholy smile touching his face. "You remember our first time?"
"Through the gate?"
Their eyes met and they shared a wry smile. "Yeah," he clarified, "through the gate. You remember?"
Sam nodded. "I remember that you pushed me," she told him.
"I remember your face," he replied. "You were so...excited. So into it."
"Didn't do much for my credibility, huh?"
He shook his head. "I was jealous," he admitted, surprising her with his answer. "You made me feel too old and too cynical."
Sam laughed quietly. "Really?" she asked. "You know how I felt?" Jack said nothing, only encouraging her to continue with a curious rise of his eyebrows. "Intimidated as hell!" she confessed. "I was so determined not to let you down, not to give you any excuse to bump me off the program." Her laughter grew louder, "I must've been irritating!"
"I thought you were adorable," he told her. The honesty in his voice drew her eyes back to his and he smiled. "Still do." Jack's face was shadowed in the half-light of the deserted gate room, but she could still see the warmth that shimmered in his dark eyes. His expression was gentle, lacking any trace of the bitterness she'd seen in the weeks since she'd decided to leave. She saw only affection as he smiled at her now, even if it was laced with sadness. But no blame, no recrimination. As he gazed fondly into her eyes he let out a long, slow breath, his lips closing into a resigned smile. At length he said, "I have something that's yours."
Sam frowned slightly. "You do?"
He reached for her hand, and even that simple touch sent up a flare of heat from the fires she'd so carefully banked in her heart. Trying to ignore her suddenly racing pulse, Sam watched as he turned her hand palm-up and dropped something into her grasp. "Take it with you," he said quietly, curling her fingers slowly around it and holding his own hand over hers as if reluctant to let her go.
But his touch only lingered momentarily before he released her. Glancing down into her palm Sam's heart fluttered as she saw the necklace he'd once given her coiled there. A wide smile split her face. "You found it!" she breathed, as she lifted it between her fingers and let the scant light play across the delicate chain.
"Well, actually, Daniel found it," Jack admitted. "But I, um, mended it."
She smiled, tracing the links with one finger as she remembered their meaning. "Love and loyalty," she murmured, turning her eyes from the necklace to his face. "I was afraid I'd broken it - beyond repair."
Jack shook his head. "It's completely indestructible," he assured her seriously. "I promise. Life-time guarantee."
Feeling her eyes prick with sudden, unwelcome tears, Sam turned away from him and back towards the Stargate. The sight didn't help; the gate represented everything that had brought them together and that kept them apart. But not just them she realized as she gazed upwards; Daniel, Teal'c, and all her friends here were bound together by the Stargate. How could she leave this? How could she turn her back on something this powerful, this important? Anxiety, repressed and reasoned away over the past weeks, started churning in her stomach as the reality of what she was doing hit her with an unexpected force. She was leaving! Turning her back on the Stargate, on the war with the Goa'uld, and on the incredible adventure she shared with her friends. And why? Because she'd crossed the line and been too blind to understand the consequences.
She felt her pulse start to race as adrenaline flowed, and she knew in a painful flash of clarity that she couldn't leave. No challenge she would face building a new gate could equal the challenges meted out by the old one; no promotion at the Pentagon could equal the satisfaction of working with her closest of friends. The realization ran through her like ice-water and she shivered, closing her fingers around her necklace as she hugged herself tightly. Her heart was tied here, to the gate, as surely as it was bound to Jack. She couldn't leave either of them. And yet, how could she stay?
"I don't want to go," she whispered suddenly, surprising herself.
Jack's response was instant. "Then don't," he said. "Stay here, where you belong."
"How can I?" she sighed. "Nothing's changed between us, Jack - we're still the weak link in the team. The whole Hakraa thing proved it."
He took a moment to reply, and in the silence she looked over at him. He was frowning down at his boots, poking his toe thoughtfully at the base of the gate. "Did it, Carter?" he said at last. "I'm not so sure." Sam was surprised by the certainty in his voice, but she said nothing and he continued. "Hakraa put us both through hell. More or less."
"More rather than less," she agreed grimly.
He looked up at her then with a deep sympathy, and she knew he understood how hard it had been for her; she smiled at the warmth his understanding brought. But Jack's eyes slipped away from hers after a moment and his brow creased in thought as he endeavored to explain himself. "When Hakraa was busy with her hand-device," he said slowly, "do you know what kept me going?" Sam just shook her head, watching him in silence. "You," he told her quietly, still not looking at her. "I couldn't bear to let you down - I knew you were still fighting and I knew I had to hold the line."
She shivered a little, her eyes suddenly bright with tears as she remembered the tortured days they'd been forced to share. "Me too," she whispered, almost choking on the memory. "Even when I thought you were going to die, I couldn't give in." She sucked in a trembling breath and blew it out slowly. "I didn't want my feelings for you to betray everything we've fought for."
Running a hand through his hair, Jack nodded. "What I'm trying to say here," he muttered, "is that if it hadn't been you - if it had been *anyone* else - I don't think I could have held out."
"You couldn't?" His words stunned her; her faith in him had been what kept her going!
He shook his head. "If I hadn't...," he stopped, as if unsure whether he was saying the right thing.
"Hadn't what...?" she pressed.
Shifting awkwardly under her gaze his head drooped a little and his forehead creased as the words came out in a flood. "It's because I loved you - love you - that I held on as long as I did, Sam; I couldn't let her turn that against you."
She stared for a moment and then squeezed her eyes shut. He'd only ever played around the edges of those words before and his bald statement almost frightened her. But even as he spoke, she realized that he'd seen what she hadn't; the closeness of their relationship had provided nothing but strength against Hakraa, even when she had sought to turn it against them. What Hakraa had considered to be human weakness had turned out to be stronger than all the power and terror of the Goa'uld. The thought sent Sam's heart soaring skyward, and her eyes flashed open to see Jack watching her seriously.
"So you see," he continued softly, "we're not a weak link, Sam. We're stronger. What we have makes us stronger."
"Yes," she agreed, unable to keep the sudden, euphoric smile from her face. "I think you're right."
His grin mirrored hers and, impulsively, he reached for her hand. "Then you'll stay?" He asked the question as if the fate of the whole world rested on her answer.
Sam almost laughed, feeling slightly hysterical as she thought about her now empty apartment, her empty lab, her expired lease.... "I don't know if I can!" she realized, shaking her head in astonishment at what she was contemplating. "General Hammond would...."
"Give his right arm if he thought it would keep you here," Jack told her seriously. "So would I, come to that."
"This is crazy," she sighed, still smiling.
"Nah," he told her. "Leaving was crazy. This is much...better."
In her heart she knew he was right, but Sam's logical mind couldn't ignore the other, less palatable, truths. Forcing herself to consider them she said, "So where does this leave us? Back at square one?"
"Not such a bad square, is it?"
"Not bad," she admitted, "but very difficult." Her eyes lifted to the sole watchman in the control room above them, a symbol of all the stood between them. "And very tempting."
Jack's gaze followed hers and his exuberance dampened as all the old realities returned. "I guess we're left holding the line again, Carter."
"The line between Earth and the Goa'uld?"
He shrugged. "There's always that one," he agreed, "but I was actually thinking of the line between you and me."
"Oh," she whispered, smiling slightly, "that one." She took a deep breath. "That's the most dangerous one of all, isn't it, sir?"
He nodded. "We should get some kind of decoration for bravery."
"Purple Heart?"
Jack chuckled. "Sounds appropriate."
Taking a deep breath and running a hand through her hair, Sam shook her head. "So, you think we can?" she asked, releasing her breath in a long sigh. "Hold the line, hold the team together, and save the planet?"
With a quick glance up at the control room, Jack took both her hands in his and said, "Carter, one thing I know about you is that there's *nothing* you can't do."
Her smile broadened, but she glanced self-consciously away for a moment before she murmured, "I can't bring myself to leave the SGC." Or you, she added silently, wondering if he understood her meaning. He did. And her simple admission left him at a momentary loss for words. But he soon recovered himself and squeezed her hands. "I'll forgive you that one," he replied, in a voice alive with emotion. Sam smiled up into his face and her heart skipped at the dangerous, euphoric heat she saw burning in his eyes. A gentle tug on her hands drew her closer, and in a flash she found herself dancing on the line again, the innocent touch of hand on hand providing kindling for the smoldering fire that could so easily drive her across the line and into his arms once more. And she knew that she couldn't let that happen. Not again, not yet. So, with deep reluctance, she pulled her hands from his and thrust them safely into her pockets. Jack released her without protest, though his eyes brimmed with disappointment and a sad smile played across his lips. "Life's gonna be tough behind the lines," he sighed quietly.
She just nodded. "You sure you want me to stick around, sir?"
"More than anything, Carter," he assured her with a thin-lipped smile that touched his eyes and made them sparkle. "More than anything."
Feeling herself starting to melt under the warmth of his emotion, Sam had to clear her throat before she managed to say, "We should probably get out of here, sir. We've given Lieutenant Madlani enough gossip-fodder for one night."
Jack turned his gaze unwillingly from her face and flicked another glance at the control room. "You know, Carter," he said slowly, turning back and peering at his watch. "It's only just ten o'clock."
Sam shrugged. "And?"
"And Daniel *did* invite us to his New Year's...gathering."
She smiled. "Guess he did."
"You'll make his year if you tell him you're staying," he told her as they started down the ramp together.
"Which one?" she asked. "This year or next?"
He chuckled. "Both."
"You know it'll be full of archeologists, don't you, sir?" she warned him.
Jack just shrugged. "They won't get in the way of the important thing," he assured her.
"Which is?"
Pushing open the door and holding it as she passed, Jack leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I was kinda hoping for a kiss at midnight. For luck."
The feel of his breath tickling her ear, and the humor in his voice, ignited her smile. "Is that appropriate, sir?"
"Nothing wrong with it," he assured her with a quick grin. "It's a tradition."
Sam nodded, feeling happier than she had in a long time. "Then I guess it's okay - and we could probably use the luck!"
But Jack shook his head as they strolled towards the elevators, and he turned to her with an affectionate smile. "I've got you back on my team, Carter," he said, softly. "That's all the luck I need."
THE END!
Story Notes: Notes: Well, I wasn't going to write a sequel to "Crossing the Line," but never say never! If you haven't read "Crossing the Line" all you really need to know is that they crossed it, once, and this story deals with the consequences – among many other things! If you'd like to read "Crossing the Line" it's now on my new website!! (http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk.) Thanks go, as always, to my patient beta reader!
End Notes: Hope you liked it! Feedback is always welcome - and since I'm trying to improve, constructive criticism is especially welcome!
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]