"Holding The Line" by Sally Reeve

Title: "Holding the Line"

Author: Sally Reeve

Rating: PG 13(for some mild language)

Classification: S/J friendship, angst, action, adventure, romance…. Oh, and more angst!

Spoilers: None

Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please just ask so I can find you!

Summary: As tensions build within SG-1, old enemies are plotting….

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

*** "Holding the Line" by Sally Reeve ***

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 fin