• Spoilers: All up until season 4; Mentions to 'Dear Sist'
• The Stargate will become public if nothing is made to stop it... can SG1 prevent it from happen?
• R (character deaths, violence, attempted rape and bad language) [D]

The author: Although this story can stand alone, it is a continuation of ‘Dear Sist’

The parts between // \\ are the translation of the French and Portuguese lines. My special thank you goes to all that helped me with the translations and beta reading of this story!

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Life is made of small things.

Small pieces and bits of a puzzle, so often, left incomplete. Unfinished games that leave us half way on our path.

A wise man would’ve say that life is the search for perfection...

... not perfection itself...

... just the searching.

And searching is what we spent our life at.

Searching for joy.

Searching for true happiness.

Searching for a better life.

Searching for a better self.

And the search keeps us going, keep us living... keep us alive!

Life IS made of small things.

Tiny, little pieces of your life, moments taken off your journey through it, through life, through your existence.

And, in the end, no matter how hard you may have tried to complete your journey, you may still pass through life with out ever living... with out had ever felt alive.

Because life is made of small things, and one of them is to feel alive.

But not all make it.

How far would you go to feel alive?

Looking back on our days, one comes to realize that people have been melting and fusing together two very different things... the feeling of being alive and the mere chemical reaction of an adrenaline rush.

Are the two of them really the same thing?

I think not.

Why?

Very simple.

You can pay to feel an adrenaline rush, may it be on a free fall sky dive, or just a ride on the roller coaster, you can even name it.

But there is not enough money in the all world that can buy you that small piece life is made of... the feeling alive!

You can’t go anywhere to get it and you can’t plan to have it.

But still, people manage to mix them up.

How far would you go feel alive?

Well some people would do anything to feel it.

And some other people would do anything to make it happen for them.

Those, you can called them people with sense for business.

Some call it to have an eye for money.

Some just called them opportunists.

And, believe me, there a few of those around.

Wanna hear about one of them?

The black Sedan parked in front of the two stores house that stood in the green hill, the solemn occupant of the countryside that those travelers had just crossed, the house’s decaying facade revealing it’s old origins.

As the car stopped, two men, dressed in gray uniforms, made their way to the car’s back door.

"Need any help, sirs?", the older of the two asked the middle-aged couple that stood in the back seats, flaking the young man seated between them.

"Yes, please... we would need a wheelchair for Johnny", the woman said, pointing to the dazzled man beside her.

The nurse at reception raised her eyes from the paperwork she was attending, when the group above her shadowed her desk.

"Good morning. Welcome to Lazarus Mental Institute. What can I do for you?", she said , with a smile, taking a look at the trio in front of her.

As most of the people that came to Lazarus, the couple seemed wealthy enough, probably from high society, looking a little snobs in their clothes and attitudes.

The third member of the group, was, clearly, their new would-be patient.

Dressed in a simple cotton white shirt and jeans, the young man that was seated, or better, slumbered in the wheelchair, appeared to be in his late twenties.

His head, covered with short hair, kept lolling from one side to the other, like he had no control over it’s movements, allowing the drool to escaped freely from his semi-open mouth and fall all over his shirt.

As he heard the voices around him, his eyes, of an intense blue, darted from one spot to another in the room, following the sound but surely enough not understanding what was being said.

"... and we talked with a Dr. James. He said he would make all the arrangements for Johnny’s stay", the man finished, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

"You see... we’re going on a long trip... one that we couldn’t possibly take our son with us...", the woman added, leaving the rest of the story in the air, as she started a motion to affectionately strike the young man’s face, not finishing it, as she spotted no clean place for her to place her carefully red nailed fingers.

‘Great... another one being dumped!’, the nurse thought, as she started filling the admission form for Johnny.

This was what made Lazarus famous now.

It’s ‘no questions asked’ politic, as it, once one of the best mental institutes, now decaying, was kept alive with it’s rich users donations.

Donations that asked no questions.

Donations that expected no questions.

"What’s the patient name?", the nurse asked.

"John Smith... but he likes being called Johnny", the woman said, a plastic smile on her face.

‘John Smith... well, at least it’s better than John Doe!’, the nurse mentally sighed, wondering how many of their current patients was admitted with its real name.

"How long will he be staying here?"

"A long time", the man said.

"Anything about him that we should know about?"

When no one answered that, the nurse looked up from the paper to the couple.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

The man took his time, drawing one last smoke from his cigar and ‘killing’ it in the floor.

"Well... most of the time he just stays like this... unresponsive... out of our world, but sometimes... he has this delusions about people being killed or trying to kill him... when he starts like that, he can get really violent... broke my wife’s hand one time..."

"I see", the nurse said, taking note of that, scribbling in red ‘violent patient’ on the form’s right corner.

"Is there a number we can contact you if something comes up?"

"No.. and we would like to keep this as discrete as possible... you see... we have a certain position in society... a position that could became very compromised if something like this came up... I’m sure you understand that... so, if anyone comes here, asking for Johnny, we would appreciate that Lazarus would...", the man said, in a low voice, his big hand half covering the check that he was passing the nurse, "... be discrete".

"I see... well, don’t worry, ‘Mr. Smith’... he’ll be in good hands!", the nurse said, taking the small paper from the man’s hands and adding it to Johnny’s process.

"We’re sure he will", the man said, turning to leave with his wife, both without as much as saying goodbye to their son.

As soon as the couple left, the nurse stepped out of the desk and took a closer look at their new ‘guest’.

Her eyes tried to lock with the ones of the seated man, prying to sense any form of response or intelligence in there.

Nothing.

He just stared at her with his eyes half-closing, and lolled his head the other side.

"He’s smelly... given him a bath and find him a room", she said flatly to the two aids, deciding that he was just another vegetable case.

‘Funny thing... veggie or not, that’s one hell of a fine framed body for someone that spend all of his life in this condition’, the nurse thought, only to then remind herself of Lazarus first and most important rule... no questions asked.

"Anyway... welcome to Lazarus Johnny!"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

"Ah.... For crying out loud!"

Colonel Jonathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill exploded from his seat, sending the open newspaper flying across the wooden table that stood in middle of SGC briefing room, in the heart of Cheyenne Mountain Complex.

"How can this be possible Sir?", Major Samantha Carter asked the puzzled General in front of her, grabbing hold of the paper discarded by her CO, her eyes again trapped by the head line in the opened page, her mind still not quite believing the message it was getting.

SG1 had just returned from a week long mission, one full week of sleeping in the wilderness, on a hard floor, that, when they where lucky, wasn’t damp, all of this after days spent hiking up and down alien hills, in search of some marvelous mineral... that, by the way, they never found.

So, after such a, oh so wonderful mission, it was expected that each and everyone of the numero um team would be more then ready to go home and spend there a good couple of days, dressed with nothing more elaborated then old pajamas and doing nothing more hard then watching the grass grow.

"A pure and enjoyable state of absolute vegetatelity", Jack had put it, as they left that particular world, heading home.

‘Home’, however, was not psychologically prepared to let them do that, so, as soon as they had hit the ramp, the SGC’s latest ‘bomb’ hit them.

So, now, after a quick medical check and a even quicker cleaning, General Hammond sat with his 2IC, a.k.a. Colonel O’Neill, his head of astrophysical research, a.k.a. Major Carter, his head of linguistic and cultures advisement department, a.k.a. Dr. Jackson and his head (and only) Goa’uld expert, a.k.a. Teal’c, all of them with their eyes screwed on the exemplar of the Washington Gazette that he had just showed them, the page reading in big black letters:

‘Travelers through the stars: truth or fiction?’

And the article went on, talking about the existence of a top-secret program that sent teams ‘out there’, through an alien device, found somewhere in Egypt. Although the writer of the news didn’t give a lot of details on the program per si, it did said that, although the rest of the world hadn’t saw any results from this kind of project or had even heard about it, it did took quite a chunk of the country’s budget, as the journalist said, claming to have in his possession evidences of the billions spent on something secretly named ‘Area 52’, or, as the reporter’s tipper had told him, ‘Stargate Program’.

"How can something like this happen? Isn’t this stuff supposed to be top, top secret?", the , so far, silent linguist asked, braking the silence that had settled in the room.

"That’s exactly what I want you to find out", Hammond said, leaning on the big table and carefully crossing his hands, "Colonel, I want you and your team to head out to DC and get to the bottom of this!", he said, his blue eyes clearly showing that he trusted them to success in this particularly tricky mission.

"Yes, Sir!", the Colonel said pronto, getting off his seat, his team hot on his heels, heading off to plan the mission details.

‘Do a good job!", the older officer thought, alone, in the already empty briefing room.

Slowly, as if all the weight of his age had come rushing in, the commander of SGC rose from his seat and headed for his office, planning on spending the rest of the day on the phone, doing his part of the job.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The journey to Washington DC was as smooth and quick as possible, just a day after the news being published, as everyone understood that there was no time to lose, if they wanted the Stargate program to remain secret and safe from more greedy and not so honorable causes.

Deciding that the place to start their search of SGC’s leak was the big building in down central DC that housed the Washington Gazette, that was exactly where they went, after a short stop at a hotel, to dump their stuff.

With Sam, as the only one among them to really know DC, driving the black car that SGC had rented for them, the team headed for the newspaper headquarters, reasoning that it would be best if only Sam and Jack talked with the journal’s director, as it would be very difficult to come up with a good story to cover all four of them.

That being, both the Air Force officials, dressed in their civvies, would go to the man, pretending to work for the Senate security office, who, by their cover story, would be very interested in finding out where the money spend on that secret project was going to, how liable was the paper source, and, of course, the name of that suppose source.

Hammond had even come up with some very nice, and very phony, ID cards for them, where it solemnly stated that they were whom they said to be.

While the two officials went to play James Bond, Daniel and Teal’c stayed in the rented car, waiting for them in front of the impressive building.

"I do not understand what is so special about this particular nourishment resource, Daniel Jackson", Teal’c stated, seated beside the young man and facing a rather large hot dog in his hands.

"You have to actually eat it to find out, Teal’c!", the anthropologist said, mumbling around a mouth full of his own hot dog.

The alien man eyed the greasy food suspiciously, totally lost on how this piece of animal guts, surrounded by fried onions and strange looking sauces could be, as the young scholar had said, the second best gastronomical tread, right behind coffee.

Although the big Jaffa highly suspected that to be correct, he did trusted the young man, so took a big bite on the strange food.

Daniel was still looking at him, to see if the alien man shared his opinion on the hot dog subject, when Teal’c hastily mumbled something that sounded like " ’cuse me" and his, a tidy bit green semblance, tumbled out of the car and rushed to the nearest building.

"Guess he didn’t like it", Daniel said to himself, seeing his teammate going straight to the bathroom’s door, inside the Washington Gazette’s building.

Guessing it would take awhile before anyone returned to the car, Daniel got out from the back seat and traveled front, to see what kind of music he could squeeze out of the car’s radio.

Just as Daniel was turning it on, something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Out of the same building that the rest of SG1 had entered, another well-known figure of SGC was coming out.

"What the hell!....", Daniel said, lining forward on the wheel, trying to get a closer look on the young man that was passing in front of the car, just to be sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him and that that was really the young, nice and totally in love over Sam, Lieutenant Graham Simmons!

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

"Sorry I’ve kept you waiting, Mr. ...", the director of the Washington Gazette said, greeting the couple that had been waiting outside his office for the past fifteen minutes.

"O’Neill and Carter", Jack said, taking the hand the other man had offer to shake.

Sam followed, as they entered the modernly decorate office.

"What can I do for you?", the man, Luke Sheppard, as it read in the golden plate on his desk, politely asked them.

O’Neill went straight to business.

"The Stargate program... that was some news, Mr. Sheppard", he said, trying to sound casually talking about his place of work for last three years.

"Ah... those news... I was wondering when someone would show up!", the middle age man said, leaning on his leather seat, smiling.

"Well, Mr. Sheppard... the Senate found those very interesting news, and started wondering how much truth was behind it...", Sam said, leaving a lot of the rest unsaid, so that the older man could fill in her blanks, and start talking.

"Hum... yes, my secretary told me to who you worked for... although bets around here were that someone from the Stargate program itself would show up in here, eventually", Sheppard said, carefully eyeing the couple, comfortably installed in front of him, searching for some kind of reaction.

There was none.

"And did they?", O’Neill asked casually.

"No... not so far"

"You still haven’t answered my question, Mr. Sheppard", Sam reminded him.

"Of course... excuse me, Mrs. ..."

"Miss"

"Miss Carter... as you must realize, the Washington Gazette didn’t built it’s reputation on reckless reports or fools news... each and every story printed in this newspaper is carefully analyzed and based on solid evidences... so, I assure you, and the Senate, that the Stargate program is real and that we have proves of it’s existence"

"Proves?", Jack asked, his eyebrow doing a Teal’c impersonation of it’s own.

The other man chose to change the topic.

"I was wondering... why would the government sent you, why not... I don’t know... the FBI?"

The Air Force officials were no fools.

"What, you wanted Fox Mulder and Dana Scully on this?", O’Neill replied, helpless about keeping his sarcasm at bay, " They do the X files... we are in charge of the S ones... it’s a alphabetic thing!"

The Major fought hard the urge to elbow her CO.

"Proves?", she repeated the question, getting the talk back on the right track.

Mr. Sheppard, however, was not that much interested in answering.

"May I remind you, sir, that we ARE here under orders of the US government, and that we can, and WILL deal with this matter in a much more formal way if you refuse to cooperate!", Carter said, calmly, her tone leaving no room to fool around.

‘Way ‘a go Major!’ O’Neill cheered for himself.

The man behind the desk, however, wasn’t aware of the size of the bluff that the young Major was pulling off, so his face had gone a few shades whiter.

And then, he started to spill the beans.

"It arrived to our hands some reports of large amounts of money that were being spent on this highly secret project, ‘Area 52’... I can show you those, if you want... but the proves of the Stargate existence itself, those aren’t in my possession, yet... but my source promised me that they would be in my hands, very soon"

"And your source being...?", Jack ventured.

"That, Mr. O’Neill, only with a formal request", the man said, with determination in his voice, one that, the Colonel was sure, would crack under some good old fashion pressure.

If only he could...

"And what proves is he suppose to be bringing you?", Sam, asked the man, trying to get as much info as she could.

"Proves of the Stargate’s existence... pictures of it and some reports of missions", the man said.

"What missions?" the Colonel asked, dreading on the answer.

"There wasn’t much information on that in advanced... the source only said that it was from one of the groups working on the program... How was it called?.. oh, yeah... SG1!", the director said, absently looking to his watch.

"SG1?", both officers asked simultaneous.

"Yes... now, if you excuse me... I have an important meeting in about, hum... 5 minutes ago", the man said with a shy smile on his face, as he rouse from his seat and motion for the door, that conversation obvious over.

"Hope to have been useful in your investigation..."

"Very... thank you", O’Neill said, with his ‘I’m having your guts for lunch’ smile on his face.

"Have a nice day", Sheppard said, leaving.

‘Oh... already having... already having!", Jack thought to himself.

"This was an interesting waste of time!", he said to his 2IC, when they were alone in the corridor, heading for the elevators.

"Well, Sir, at least now we know how much he knows... and that our link his a man"

"How come?"

"I implied that much in our conversation, and he, although having heard, didn’t said otherwise"

"Oh... that help us so much... we now have our suspects down to what... 80% of SGC personnel?", the Colonel said, sarcastically.

"Something like that Sir"

"Oh joy...."

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Daniel Jackson still couldn’t believe his eyes.

Knowing perfectly well that the young Lieutenant had said in SGC that he was taking a few days off to visit his parents in California, Daniel could only come up with one explanation for this white lie.

"He’s the mole!" , the open mouthed anthropologist whispered to himself.

‘Got to tell the others about this!’, he thought, wishing Teal’c would hurry, so that he could be sure he wasn’t just imagining things.

He knew Graham Simmons... we was a quite and shy young man... the spy outfit did not suit him.

Just as he watched the other man on the street in front of the newspaper, a foreigner car came to an alt near the SGC Lieutenant, picked him and took off, only to stop up front, on a red sign.

Daniel passed a nervous hand over his short hair.

Whattodo.... Whattodo... whattodo...

He risked a glance over to the building that still held the majority of SG1, trying to see if any of them was coming.

Nope.

No’ra a soul in site.

He looked at the unmoving car again.

That sign would change in a second.

Whattodo.... Whattodo... whattodo...

He could just picture it in his head... on one side, a tiny Daniel Jackson saying that following that car was their best shot at finding out how far down was the SGC Lieutenant involved, who else was selling the Stargate program and who the hell was behind that plot to turn SGC public... on the other side, there was this little red faced Colonel O’Neill, reminding him that, on or off world, NO ONE goes alone one some errant mission, 1st - on some place in which such person does not know the layout, 2nd - not with out some serious back up or at least telling another team member what and where he was going and 3rd – most definitely not with out taking some sort of communication device, so that such person could radio for help, if it became necessary.

As the sign up front changed from red to green and the front car took off, Daniel started the car and took off after it, his decision made.

Behind him, a tiny Daniel Jackson had a grin on his face, as a furious little Colonel was yelling, among other obscenities, that he was having his ass on a silver plate over this stunt.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

As Sam and Jack left the Washington Gazette building, they spotted Teal’c up front, alone.

"Where’s Daniel?", Jack asked as they reached him.

The big man looked more contrite then usual, if such was possible.

"I do not know O’Neill... I took absence for some time, inside the building, leaving Daniel Jackson alone in the car... when I returned, he was no where in site", he said calmly.

Although the alien warrior still trusted the younger man with his life, he no longer trusted him with his stomach.

Not after the ‘hot dog’ experience.

"Where did he go?", Jack asked again, this time to no one in particular, except for his own buttons.

"Maybe he went to refuel the tank, or something...", Sam ventured.

"Tank was full, Major... checked it myself", the Colonel said, annoyed.

After all this time, he thought the young man was over with his wandering off stuff.

Apparently, he was deeply wrong.

"Maybe he saw some cute artifact and went after it!", he said sarcastically, "Let’s head back to the hotel, people... he’ll eventually show his sorry little ass there!", he said, already trying to ‘fish’ a cab.

"Did the negotiations with the paper director went well?", Teal’c asked, as they waited for a car to stop.

"Not really", Sam said.

"Yeah... I’m getting this tingly little felling that this is turning out to be another good’r’old bad day!"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Daniel Jackson was having a bit of a hard time in following the car Graham Simmons had entered, to say the least.

‘Why not in NY? Why? Was it ask too much? I think not!’, the young man was thinking, furiously strangling the wheel, as he had, yet again, to make a very dangerous maneuver in order of not lose site of the front car, as it turned and returned through streets he hadn’t even heard of before.

Somehow, not quite knowing how, the SGC's prime linguist managed to not lose the car, as it crossed town and left its limits.

Short after, the front car stopped.

Graham Simmons and three strange men came out, apparently involved on a hot discussion, the two parts not quite agreeing over something.

Daniel parked his car at some distance behind, trying to stay out of site of the group deep in discussion, but also preventing himself from hearing anything of what they were saying.

Taking advantage of the thick couple of trees between him and the men, he left the car running, in case he needed a hasty retreat, and the car’s door slightly open, both to prevent the noise of closing it, an for it not to step between him and the said retreat.

Being extremely cautious on the approach, and trying to put to practice all the stealth techniques Teal’c had tried to coach him in to, Daniel managed to get close enough to catch some of the strange man angry speech.

"... Monsieur LaMarq will not be pleased by this delay, monsieur la tenant!" , the man was saying, dribbling his English over a strong French accent.

"Look... I told you already... it’s too risky for me to hand over the pictures this soon.. It would put me in a very dangerous situation inside SGC!", Graham fired back, apparently knowing the man.

"Mais, monsieur, vous ne comprend pais... this IS a verry dangerrous situation, particularry if you disappoint Monsieur LaMarq... and I assurre you... this will disappoint him!", the second man said, towering over the shorter SGC Lieutenant.

"Well... I don’t give a damn about Monsieur LaMarq’s disappointments! If I jeopardize my position inside SGC, THEN the man can get very disappointed!", the young man exploded, his nerves clearly on the edge.

"That, monsieur la tenant, was not a pretty thing to say", the first man said, very calmly, while motioning for the other man to grab him.

The third stranger, Daniel noticed, was out of site, probably back on the car.

Graham Simmons struggled in vain with the man holding him, as the other made a thorough search of his pockets.

His hands turned out empty.

"Merd! Les photos ne son pais avec lui!"- // Shit! The pictures aren’t with him! \\

"Et tu sûr?" - // Are you sure? \\

"Oui" - // Yes \\

"Will you let go of me, you gorilla!?", Simmons barked, fed up of being treated like yesterday’s clothes and of not getting a word of what the two French strangers were babbling.

"But of courrse", the man holding him said, smirking to the other man.

The other man, with out a single word, put his hand inside his leather jacket, producing, in a swift movement, a silenced equipped gun.

Before Daniel, catching the all scene behind his tree, could even register what was happening, a low stamping sound raced trough the still air.

Graham Simmons looked dreadfully to the red stain on his chest, growing bigger and bigger by the second, before he collapsed on the floor like a rag doll.

Dead.

‘Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!’, Daniel’s brain yelled, his mouth almost doing the same.

‘I go’ a get out of here... go’ a tell this to the others...", his numbed brain continued to mumble.

Turning hastily on his heels, intend on getting to the car as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there, before his good luck ended, Daniel soon found out that the third stranger wasn’t inside the car as he had thought.

The butt of a big black gun was the last thing that SGC’s anthropologist saw, as his body came crashing ungracefully to the ground.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

As the rest of SG1 arrived to the hotel and found out that the errant linguist wasn’t there yet, Colonel O’Neill started to get worried.

As the night came, and still no anthropologist was in site, Colonel O’Neill and the rest of the team were really worried and were forced to inform the General of what was going on, making him worried too.

And as the morning arrived, it was greeted by the sleep-deprived looks of three very, very worried people, all of them having arrived to the same conclusion over the night.

Daniel Jackson was missing.

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

People say that when the Sun rises, it does for everyone.

And it does.

The Sun has no sort of preferences or dislikes for no place in the all Galaxy, in the all Earth... it really shines the same for everyone, everywhere.

Everyday.

But in China it does rises first... and the Poles do see it less...

Does the Sun like China more then the North Pole?

No.

We just move.

The Sun stands quietly in its ancient place, shiny and warm for everyone, as we, as restless children, move around.

Earth moves around it.

Earth moves around itself.

And in doing so, Earth itself makes it look like the Sun likes some places more then others.

But the Sun has no preferences.

It shines the same to everybody, everywhere.

But still, as it passed through Lazarus, the Sun hide behind a big cloud.

And the day turned gray and sad.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The nurse opened the door of the last room in the dim lighted corridor.

Clicking on a switch to her right, light flooded the small room, revealing it’s sleeping occupant.

Nurse Orson and Dr. James approached the young man secured to the hospital bed, his wrists, waist and ankles bound by the soft, leather covered straps.

"And this is?", the medic asked, taking the chart from nurse’s hands.

"Johnny... his parents brought him in this morning"

The medic laid down the chart on the bed’s feet, and fishing for his flash pen, from his white coat’s pocket, he pried one of the man’s eyes open, getting a sluggish response from his pupil.

"How did that happen?", Dr. James asked, pointing to the angry bruise on the man’s forehead, while storing his pen and scribbling some notes on the chart.

"Don’t know that, Dr. James... the nurse that was at reception when he arrived said he was already like that"

"And the...?", he asked, pointing to the straps.

"His parents warned that he could be extremely violent sometimes... we thought best to take some precautions"

"I see... has he said or did anything since then, something that might shed some light on his mental condition for us?"

"Not much, sir... the aids only said that, when they were giving him a bath, he started shouting something at them, but they couldn’t understand what he was saying."

"Gibberish?"

"Not really, sir.. they said it sounded foreigner, but nothing any of them knew"

"Curious...", the doctor mumbled, turning the chart’s page around, to look at the blood test results on the back.

"This his?", he asked after a while, taking a side-glance to the nurse.

"Yes sir"

"And this barbics value is correct?", he asked, surprised.

"Yes, sir... checked it myself", she assured him.

"Man... talk about being drugged silly!"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

24 hours.

It had been 24 damn hours since Daniel had gone missing.

Knowing more than well their troubled teammate, SG1 had already taken the tour over every single hospital in the county, but with no luck... if one can call luck finding a missing person in the hospital.

The police stations and the city morgue followed, with the same empty results, except for the hair raising experience that the Colonel had to go through in the morgue, as three different male stiffs, about Daniel’s age, had showed up, unidentified.

As the team commander and Daniel’s best friend, Jack was the one that had to go through the identification procedure.

As he and the police officer on duty entered the cold room, filled with freezer drawers, a chill that had nothing to do with the rooms temperature, raced from head to toe of the Air Force Colonel.

Three bodies, three dark chances of finding Daniel dead... not his first choice on the top of thrilling things to do!

The first man that they saw, although Daniel’s age, couldn’t possibly be his missing friend, as the policeman uncovered his Mexican ashen features.

According to the police, this one had been found on an alley, his liver pierced by a knife wound.

The knife, as his killer, was most likely never to be found.

The second man had drowned to death and had his faced distorted by the swollen tissues, making recognition almost impossible.

But, as O’Neill was almost glad to find out, the pour young man was too short to be Daniel.

As they neared the third stiff, Jacks nerves where almost on the edge, the possibilities running wild on his pessimist brain, giving him the urge to just run like hell from that dead people’s place.

His heart twisted inside his chest as he finally took a look at the third possibility and saw the dark blond hair lurking underneath the white sheet.

The Colonel hold his breath as the policeman uncovered the face of the last body, a victim of assault, killed by a close range gunshot wound.

As the sheet was pulled down, the last face Jack wanted to see was there, right in front of him, his mind playing tricks on him, as his subconscious turned in to reality his worst nightmares, and, for seconds, Daniel was dead.

The illusion, fortunately, was short, as the Colonel blinked and found himself looking in to the white ashen face of a very bearded young man, some other pour guy that, somewhere, probably had a family and friends looking for him too.

When he finally left the cold room, the Colonel was still so white that the rest of the team feared the worst, only to have their worries dismissed by the older man, as soon as he managed to convince his brain that none of the dead men inside that room was his friend.

So, for now, they were all again in the hotel room, trying to calm their nerves down and figure what to do next.

Everyone was in deep, dark thought mode when the phone rang, disrupting their self imposed silence.

Sam, nearer, picked it up.

"Yes?... Yes, he’s here", she said, handing the receiver to her CO.

"O’Neill here... General... no Sir, we haven’t found him yet. Any news from your end, Sir?... They did?!", he said, turning white for the second time that day.

Sam saw the change in the Colonel’s face and quickly found a seat for herself, not trusting her legs to support her through what she guessed, was coming.

Something terrible had happen.

That much she was sure of.

"What?!... Are you sure, Sir?... I don’t believe that!", Jack said, the white being quickly replaced by red on his face, only a fast look of relief separating the two apart.

The rest of the team had given up on trying to read the quick moving changes in their commander’s face, as he listened to the long speech that Hammond was giving him, his responses in a tone of voice now that made sure Hammond was hearing him way back in Colorado... without a phone!

"You can’t be talking serious Sir!... I know you have but... no Sir, not gonna do anything foolish... Yes Sir, I promise... no, Sir, they will too... understood Sir!", O’Neill said, hanging the phone with enough force to brake it in two.

His face fell upon the silent machine, his teeth eating around the anger he was feeling inside his tightly closed mouth.

"Sir?", Carter asked after a while, her voice clearly mirroring her battle between the need to know what had happen and the will to stick her head in the sand.

"What has happen O’Neill?", Teal’c asked too.

Jack looked up from the phone and faced his teammates, swallowing hard, past the lump in his throat.

"The car was found last night, outside DC, in the bottom of a cliff... both it and the man inside were carbonized" he said, down casting his eyes again.

"Oh my God!", the Major said, her blues eyes getting huge behind the wall of tears that was forming in there.

"It wasn’t Daniel, Major", Jack quickly said, seeing the conclusions she and Teal’c were taking.

She turned her watered eyes towards him

It wasn’t?

Then why the damn suspense?

"Who was the victim O’Neill?", the Jaffa asked.

"The body found in the car’s trunk wasn’t quite... recognizable... "he started again, still finding it hard to swallow "but the police manage an ID based on his dog tails"

"Dog tails?"

"It was Graham Simmons", he said quickly, knowing perfectly well how much his Major found that kid a sweet guy, although never supplying much of a support to his obvious drooling for her.

"Graham?", she said, the tears falling free from her eyes, both from grieve for the young man and from guilt, for the relief she felt when she realized it wasn’t Daniel’s body inside the car.

"H... How?"

"They say it’s still to soon to know any details... they did, however, found a gunshot wound on the bod... on Graham’s chest... they think he was probably already dead when the car exploded", the Colonel said softly, his gaze returning to the phone.

"That is not all of the news, is it O’Neill?", the alien warrior asked, seeing the downcast and angry look of his commander.

Jack looked at him, eating himself out for having become so readable to his team.

How the hell was he gonna say this to them?

"What else did the General said, Sir?", Sam asked, back on her Major mode. Although one friend was now dead, another, much more close, was still missing and clearly in trouble.

"Hammond said that... they found the gun that presumably shot Graham... it was near the car, apparently thrown out when it tumbled down or maybe just discarded by his killer... the police did a primary check on it for finger prints and manage to actually find some... an APB was already sent for the suspect..."

"Really? That fast? Is it someone we know?" Carter asked.

"Yeah, Major... it’s someone we know"

"Whom do this prints belong to?" Teal’c asked too.

"Daniel", Jack said quietly.

"What?!!"

"They found Daniel’s prints on that gun", the Colonel said through clenched teeth, the mere idea obvious not going well with his stomach.

Not even in the darkest, weirdest and unreal alternative reality was Daniel assassin material.

Never.

"That’s impossible!"

"This is most unlikely O’Neill"

"I agree with you guys... Hammond agrees too... but still, the APB was released and NID guys are after Daniel"

"So... what do we do Sir?"

"We find him first!", the commander said, his resolution in helping their friend just as sharp as the one of the rest of the people inside that room.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Falling...

Falling...

Falling in a deep, deep black hole...

A bottomless black hole...

Daniel opened his eyes in sudden panic.

Or at least, he thought he had them open.

He couldn’t quite focus on a single image.

The messages his slow brain was getting from his eyes were too quick for it to register any.

For now, he just had to decide what was rolling... his eyes or the all room!

Up, down, up, right, left, down, up, left, right, left, up...

Stop moving!

He closed his eyes again.

It was safer that way.

It was best than looking at a room that kept altering between growing bigger and growing smaller.

But still, his world was upside down, even when he closed his eyelids.

The dark behind his eyes was making him feel claustrophobic.

And he was falling again...

He was most definitely going to be sick...

Better open them again.

Someone was talking with him...

Fussing with his face...

Wait, not fussing...

Shaving...

Someone was shaving his face...

Why?

As he tried to move his limbs, he found that he couldn’t, as, although feeling nothing restraining him, his arms and legs felt like they were made of lead... heavy, heavy lead...

Too heavy to try, so he just gave up and concentrated on making some sort of sense on what was going inside his brain.

Besides world war III, that is.

*’*

Nurse Orson, assigned to take care of Johnny, looked at her patient again, his face half shaved as she pause from her half-finished work.

"Life hasn’t been very nice to you, has it Johnny?", she asked him, looking at his eyes, once again open but totally unfocussed.

It had been a week since Johnny had arrived to Lazarus, but as they still had no idea on what was wrong with him, Dr. James had just put him under the ‘central nervous system dysfunction’ group and given the case as handled, keeping him isolated until they could be sure he was safe enough to join the other patients.

As for the patient itself, he just spent most of his time sleeping, most of it because of the medication Dr. James had prescribed him with.

The rare occasions that he had showed any sign of activity, she had been there.

She had been there when he had woke up screaming in a language that sounded almost Arab to her, although she hadn’t understood a word of it.

She had been there when his wrists started bleeding, from the stress he was putting in them, wrestling with the straps holding him down. Those were gone now, the drugs making the restraining for them.

And she had been there just now, when he had opened his eyes first, looking so lost... so scared.

The ugly bruise was gone from his temple by now, but in the time she had taken care of him, nurse Orson had discovered many others on him.

The faint, odd patterned scar on his right shoulder, the mark left behind by a broken head, the tiny round scar on the side of his head, right above his ear, the scar on the leg...

So many scars... too many of them...

Too many scars for someone in his psychiatric condition.

"What have you been doing, hum Johnny?", she asked him again, resuming the shaving, knowing perfectly well he wasn’t gonna answer her... well, apparently not in any language she would understand, anyway.

After awhile, she put the shaving tray away and grabbed a syringe from another tray, rolling his sleeve up.

"Time for today’s shot Johnny"

*’*

Shot...

Shot...

Someone’s shot...

Someone’s been shot...

Daniel’s eyes grew huge and semi-focused on the woman near him.

Her face looked fuzzy and doubled to him, but he could still make out her brown hair and her white uniform.

"J’net?", he tried to say the name of someone known to him and that had popped in his head, although he couldn’t be that sure that that was what he had said, assuming that the drunken voice he had heard was really his.

"Who his Janet, Johnny?", the person in white asked.

Good question...

Although he was kind of hopping she could answer him that one.

And who is Johnny?

Was she talking to him, or was it there someone else inside where ever he was?

He wasn’t called Johnny, was he?

No.. didn’t sound right...

"You need to rest now Johnny... just relax and let the medication help you feel better", the same voice said to him, softly.

Better?

Better from what?

He felt nothing wrong...

Beside his brain, of course... that one, felt like it was trying to get across a mud swamp, quickly sinking in quick sand... God! He hadn’t felt like that since... since he had awaken in that padded room... surely he wasn’t there again...

... was he?

"Normmalee... I’humm normmml, noo craazzi, crazzy!" he tried to mumble around his too big, dormant tongue, feeling his eyes closing again.

The person in white passed a caring hand through his hair.

"Of course you are normal, Johnny... everyone is in Lazarus Mental Institute", the nurse said, smiling.

"Whoo’se Johnny?", he finally asked.

The nurse just shook her head.

This English talkative episode of his was lasting too much to be good and coherent.

‘Well, can’t have it all!’, she thought, choosing not to answer him, afraid to upset the patient, ‘ time to let the medication do it’s work’, she thought, while injecting the clear liquid in his vein.

"Alright, Johnny-boy... now, you’ll feel better in no time!"

"Nooo Johnnyb’y... Dannnyb’y ", he said, drunkenly, as the nickname popped in his head.

"Whatever", she said, getting out to take care of her other tasks, leaving her patient alone in the dark room.

Just as the drug was starting to take him away from reality, the last thinking part of Daniel’s brain finished processing the tiny bit of information he had got from the person in white... the part where she had given a name to where he was.

‘Lazarus... Lazarus Mental Institute... Mental Institute... Mental...’

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!

*’*

Daniel was awaked from his endless day and nightmares by a couple of hands pulling him out of his bed.

"Whakie, whakie Johnny... It’s bath time!", the aid that had pulled him to his legs said, cheerfully.

Bath time, as Daniel vaguely remembered it from other days, consisted in a very humiliating experience, where one or two aids, usually bigger than him, took him to the common patient bathroom, stripped him, soaped him and threw a large amount of cold water down his head.

It ended, more times than few, with the young man shouting every dirty word he could think of at them, in the first language that came to his mouth.

The other times, he would just disconnect himself from that shitty experience and would let his mind wonder to other, more friendly, places.

In those times, faces would come to his head.

The thin, shaved faced of a man with gray hair and puppy brown eyes...

A beautiful woman, with eyes that breathed intelligence...

Another man, dark skinned, with the bearing of a prince...

Other faces too... many faces...

He would lose himself in them, and then, by the time he’d returned, ‘bath time’ was over and he was back in the dark room.

Although he didn’t remembered much from the events of the past few days, he did knew that that dark room had been his house for more days then he could remember, more days then he dared to count.

After the aids, the nurse would follow.

Her gentle voice came everyday... talking to him, making him remember that he was human.

Although being human is something you take for granted since the day that you are born, feeling human is something that can, as easily be forgotten.

And one of the surest and shortest ways of that to happen is the lost of power over oneself, the lost of liberty to chose what to do, where to go, who to be...

And, for now, this people here where forcing him to be Johnny, the madman, giving him no chance of being otherwise or other else.

So, yeah, the simple fact that this nurse talked to him and not about him, made him feel human again.

And that small nothing was something he had learned to treasure.

"Hey, Johnny... slept well?"

The last couple of days had passed for him like those quite seconds in the morning, when you open you eyes, feeling awake, but laying still, waiting for your brain to catch up.

Today, however, Daniel felt like his brain was finally starting to catch up.

Today he felt more alert... he felt alert enough to remember what she had told him the day before... or was it two days ago? ... three?

Either way, he needed to end this nightmare... he knew something was wrong... and he knew he didn’t belonged there!

He knew that there was no way he could go through it all again.

The feeling of your sanity slipping away.

The doubt about belonging or not in a mental house.

The numb brain and body.

No... never again!

He had to stop it...

...and he had to do it now...

...before it was too late!

Daniel waited until she looked in to his eyes.

She locked hers with his... and froze.

There was a sentient, more or less lucid, person looking back at her!

That wasn’t normal... not in there, at least!

But she had no doubt about it... there was a working brain behind that clear blue gaze that refused to let her look any other way.

"Hell... hellpme", he said, cursing his mouth for not working right.

"What?!" nurse Orson asked, surprised.

"Helpme... ge’re out... uff’here!" he tried again.

The nurse frowned.

What was it that Mackenzie had said?

Oh, yeah... that all patients wanted the same.

All wanted to explain why they where normal, why they shouldn’t be in there and why the doctors were all wrong.

She wasn’t understanding him.

She didn’t seemed to be getting his message... the one that spoke of his need to leave that place and feel normal again.

Although stuffed in cotton, his brain was sharp enough to let him face his precarious situation, the one where he was locked up in some place, being drugged to his gills on a daily basis, by someone that obvious thought that that was good for him.

Even if he had no idea on how he had ended up in that place, he knew it weren’t the owners of the friendly faces he saw in his mind, that had put him there.

And he knew that they didn’t know where he was, or else they would’ve come by this time, to get him out.

He needed to let them know where he was.

But he couldn’t do it by himself.

He needed an allied.

He needed an allied to call his friends to him.

And his friends would come for sure, because they knew that if there was something he couldn’t deal with, that something was helplessness, was having no control over your life and body.

Because, if no one came, he had the dreadful feeling that he would spend the rest of his life in a mental institution.

Forever in a limbo between knowing he wasn’t crazy and feeling himself going nuts.

Because... madness was something he didn’t knew how to deal with.

Madness he couldn’t deal with... not again...

His would-be ally’s expression was blank.

She wasn’t understanding how frustrated and scared he was.

If she didn’t helped him...

Daniel closed his eyes, feeling defeated.

The nurse grabbed his arm and delivered the day’s shot.

"I’m sorry Johnny... but I can’t do that", she whispered, one of her hands holding his, while the other cleaned the tear that had escaped the man’s tightly closed eyes.

She stayed awhile longer with him, but ‘Johnny’ wasn’t with her anymore, as his eyes rolled up and he entered in his drugged stupor again.

*’*

The next morning, nurse Orson entered ‘Johnny’s’ room without saying a word.

He too was quieter, his gaze fixed on some point of the high ceiling.

That wasn’t something new for her, as he had been like that many times before when she had come to take care of him.

This time, however, it was different.

This time it was deliberate.

"What?... you sulking on me Johnny?", she said, playfully, as if talking with a small child.

The smile died on her lips as he turned his eyes to her.

Like a full glass, the water that had been whelming up in there, tumbled down his cheeks as he looked down, the salty liquid quickly covering the round surface and ending on his pillow, staining it wet.

The look on his face broke her heart apart.

She wasn’t sure why, but she could feel her own tears stinging behind her eyes.

She had no idea why there was that feeling of so deep sadness, helplessness and fear that was coming from the man in the bed, but as she focused on his expressive eyes she knew she wasn’t imagining it.

The feelings were real, were his, but it was her heart that was starting to feel sore.

She was most definitely getting too old for this!

"Pleease... h... h... helpme!" he said, repeating the same words of the day before, forcing his shaking hand to reach for hers in a pathetic attempt to hold it.

The nurse took her hand away, frightened.

Not by his touch, because she, somehow, knew he wouldn’t hurt her, even if he could, but because of the way his voice had sounded.

It was a tone of voice that mirrored every thing she had guessed in his eyes, but, worst of all, it sounded like the voice of a normal person pushed beyond every possible limit it may hold.

It sounded like the voice of someone on the verge of given up!

And lord! She had had her share of those voices!

This couldn’t be!... His parents... his own parents had said he had always been mentally ill... every single day of his damn life!

That had to be the truth... ‘couse if it wasn’t, then it could only mean one thing...

... they had been drugging up beyond recognition a normal person!

He seemed to know where her line of thought was heading.

"I am notcrazy... notcrazy... notcrazy", he said, the effort he was making, to turn his speech more understandable, plain for everyone to see.

Nurse Orson took his hand in hers.

In her thirty year old career she had felt helpless to help many of the patients that passed through her hands, some more than others, and most of them had been right from there, Lazarus.

She had, a long time ago, promised herself that her heart would never step between her and work... she couldn’t afford so...

... but she had, many times.

‘Why didn’t I became school teacher like my mother wanted?’, she asked herself for the hundred time.

Looking back to the full syringe on her tray, and then to the hand she was holding in hers, her eyes finally rested on the owner of both.

He was still mumbling something, although she could no longer understand what he was saying.

His forehead was creased in a frown, as if he was arguing with someone or something that he alone could see, inside his head.

‘Maybe his sanity’, she sadly thought.

And, with that, she decided that her long ago promise would have to be broken one more time, or else she would never be able to sleep at night, with the memory of those deep blue eyes borrowing in to her back.

Letting her brain shut down for a little while, she aloud her heart to take command, as she dumped the syringe contents on the room’s floor and left.

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

"What is the soul for you?" one teacher, a psychologist, once asked me.

The question puzzled me, so I took my time to find a suitable answer for it.

Buddhists have a saying: "The mind of the perfect man is like a mirror".

It does not change its image to please what is reflected and, everything that faces it is answered in the same form it presented itself.

It shows only what is real and truth, to him and to others.

The same as the soul.

Scientists may state that our soul is in our mind, that the two are the same and one, that our soul is nothing more then a inner projection of ourselves, influenced by our culture, education and religious beliefs.

An organic, subconscious way to keep us all good boys and girls.

Pulses and electric bits, traveling at light speed through millions of neuron junctions.

People of faith, however, believe it’s much more than that.

They would say that the soul it’s our most pure self, the part of us that belongs to a higher being and a higher place, may it be Heaven, Valhalla, Hades or even the Valley of Dead.

For all of them, the soul is Immortal.

It’s independent of the body it’s attached to during a lifetime, for that body will die, but its soul will be forever.

Free to live again.

Reborn.

Alexander, the Great believed he was Achilles all over again.

No one ever proved that he was... or wasn’t, for that matter.

Still, the question puzzles me.

Immortal essence or neural synapses?

Which of them is our soul made of?

Both, maybe.

Maybe none.

Maybe it isn’t up to us to find out.

Or, maybe, we already did, at some point of our time and history, but choose to forget.

Either way, I’ve still haven’t answer my teacher.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Daniel looked at his surroundings through the eyes of a newborn.

For the first time in, God knows, how many days, things around him didn’t reach his brain like some surrealistic painting.

He was finally out of his gray little room, as the aids had brought him in to a much larger one, kind of mess hall-like, filled with bright light coming from barred windows.

The tables that filled the room, were, most of them, already occupied by other Lazarus patients.

Quietly, Daniel took in the people around him.

Dressed, like him, in pajama-like uniforms, the other patients took little notice on him, as they already had their own particular worlds to keep them busy.

Though most of them seemed coined out of the same mold, in the same cruel factory, with their blue pajamas, blank face expressions and their silent mimic of life, a couple of Lazarus patients stood out by the strangeness of their actions.

To his left, for instance, a bald old man was looking, deadly serious to the white ceiling above, all of his attention focused on a particular spot.

Daniel couldn’t prevent himself from following the old man’s gaze up.

But there was nothing there.

Just plain white ceiling.

To his left, a fat looking woman, around her thirties, was quietly humming a lullaby song, lulling her empty arms.

Near one of the windows, behind her, another man was looking like frozen in time, with his skinny arms open wide, like waiting for a hug that would never come.

Both prisoners of some point in their lives that had ‘clicked’ their existence ‘off’ and condemned them to this non living.

Catatonic zombies.

Another one, a little far behind, had taken one of his shoes and was now, apparently, enjoying a wonderful drink from it.

Only there was nothing there too.

Just the hallucinations, the deteriorated products of their madness.

And he wasn’t in there visiting them, like when he went to see Nick and had to face the same kind of patients... he was there AS one of the patients, trapped in the same insane loop that would never let this people resurface to life.

Daniel closed his eyes.

This was worst than his claustrophobic little room.

At least in there he could live the illusion that he wasn’t in a mental house, built to house crazy people.

As if...

In the silence of the big room, Daniel’s attention was captured by the single noisemaker.

Big noisemaker.

Daniel opened his eyes and searched the room for him.

This particular patient, a tall black man, maybe in his early forties, was having a very colorful discussion with his reflection on the mirror, in the front wall.

As Daniel, detachedly, observed, the verbal fight moved in to a physic one, as the man laid a powerful punch on the mirror , chattering it in too tiny, small, bloody pieces.

The aids inside the room were quickly by the man’s side, grabbing his bloody fists and dragging the man away from the other patients, as the black man screamed from the top of his lungs that it wasn’t his fault, that the other guy had started it.

The other patients froze, for instants descending from their private little places, staring at the scene displaying in front of them.

"The yellow room... the yellow room...", one of the patients, a woman, probably younger than Daniel, started whispering, looking at the screaming man being dragged out by the aids, her slim body slowly rocking back in forth.

The body and mind quite mantras were soon joined by the voices of other patients, all of them obviously affected by, what appear to be, a familiar and unpleasant scene, as they all stare to the corridor were the men had gone.

Apparently, what ever was inside the yellow room, it was bad enough to penetrate their madness and make them fear it.

‘This people are all crazy... totally and utterly crazy....’, Daniel thought to himself, a silent wave of panic washing through him as his mind felt disconnected from really as he knew it and took in the bizarre scene he had just saw.

Never the less, his brain felt less clouded this day, less mud-like, almost working again, well, at least working enough for him to be sure about many things, like who he was and what were the names of the faces that he kept seeing inside his head.

And good enough to allow him to came to a solid conclusion on who was responsible for that change.

As a matter of fact, it had just entered the room.

Nurse Orson came to his side, handing him a couple of white papers and a pencil.

"Hey Johnny!... Like our recreation room?", she said, smiling to him, oblivious about the scene that had just taken place in that same room.

"Brought you something to keep your mind at".

Daniel looked up from the tabletop to her.

"Thank you", he said.

Quietly, calmly... in control.

The nurse sat next to him, looking surprised.

She knew he wasn’t talking about the papers and pencil.

She knew he had realized what she had done.

"Thank you for allowing me to feel normal again", he whispered to her, letting her eyes go through him, weighting his behavior, urging him to prove himself to her, to make her believe she had done the right choice.

"Define normal, Johnny" a male voice said from above them.

Daniel looked up, startled by the intrusion, and saw a man, about his age, dressed in a white coat, his bearded face distorted by Daniel’s myopic eyes.

Nurse Orson snapped out of her inner thoughts too, the moment of silent communication broken by the stranger arrival.

"Johnny, this is Dr. James, your psychiatrist while you’re staying at Lazarus" the nurse said, squeezing the hand he had rested on the table, whiling him to cooperate.

Daniel turned confused, hurt eyes towards her.

He thought she had understood.

He thought she was going to help him.

But yet, there she was, the same woman that the day before had drugged the floor instead of him, treating him like one of the patients.

Like he was crazy.

The feelings of betrayal he was feeling inside must’ve showed in his face, as the nurse diverted her eyes, unable to face his eyes any longer.

"How are you feeling Johnny?", the doctor asked him, grabbing a chair and seating himself in front of his patient.

"My name is not Johnny!", he spat out, angrily at the man.

"Oh... I see. And what should your name be?", he asked, in that tone of voice shrinks had and that had always made Daniel furious.

The tone of voice of ‘yeah, I know you’re crazy, so, as the good professional I am, I’ll humor you’ that he was sick and tired of being treated with.

Why was it so hard for this people just to get his name straight?

It wasn’t that hard!

His gaze traveled from the unpleasant man’s face to the small, white plastic band on his left wrist.

How come he hadn’t seen it before?

It had been there all the time.

Turning it with his right hand, Daniel read the name tag ‘John Smith – 094673’

Why the heck was he identified as John Smith?

He wasn’t named John Smith.

Not in this or any other reality.

He didn’t even liked the name!

This was nuts!

This surely wasn’t happening!

"Look, I don’t have a clue on how this happen, but my name isn’t John Smith... I’m Jackson, Dr. Daniel Jackson... this is clearly some sort of misunderstanding and I’m sure once we...", he started babbling, part of his brain utterly relieved that he’d discovered why he was there, while the other part was still telling him that this wasn’t making any sort of sense.

Anyway, he felt like some of the weight of the world had just gone out of his shoulders.

For the first time since he’d entered that place, Daniel had some sort of light and control over what was happening, faint as it might be, but still more than what he had before.

Which was nothing.

Now it was only a matter of solving the misunderstanding, and he could finally go home, so he would just...

"So, Johnny, you’re a doctor, hum?... Of what, may I ask?", the psychiatrist asked, as if the other man had said absolutely nothing, the same condescending tone of voice present, the medic just playing along with his patient charade.

"Arqueo... wha... what?!" Daniel asked, taken aback by the way the medic spoken.

Had he been talking to a wall?

"Haven’t you heard a word of what I just said? I AM NOT John Smith! You’ll just have to check and see that this an huge mis..."

"Johnny, why do you keep insisting that you are some one else? Aren’t you happy to be Johnny, is that it? Or do you think your parents would have brought a stranger in here? Would they not recognize their own son?"

"I’m not... wait a minute... my... they... what!?" Daniel gagged, his eyes growing out of proportions.

Was he finally hallucinating?

Had he heard wrong maybe?

"Who did you said brought me in?"

"Your parents Johnny... you seem surprised... why?", the doctor asked, seeing the weakly refrained emotions on the young man’s face.

"My parents?", he asked again, afraid that he was finally losing his mind for real.

Was this some kind of sick joke?

Maybe the man in front of him wasn’t a medic after all... maybe he was just another crazy man, dressed in a white coat.

Maybe he was just making fun of him.

"Do you have a problem with that?", Dr. James asked, already seeing big Freudians theories behind the hurt, confused and pained expression of his patient.

"A problem?... Do I have a problem with that? Yeah, I kind of have a problem with that... they’re dead!", he finally said in a whisper, down casting his eyes.

Damn medication, making his eyes water for nothing!

"Would you like to see your parents death, is that it Johnny? They sounded like such a nice couple on the phone... what have they done for you to hate them that much?", the doctor asked, with a neutral face that didn’t went well with the caring and interest he was trying to show towards his patient.

Daniel looked at him again, denying the tears in his eyes the freedom to fall.

He could not believe his ears. Who was this stupid man that only listen to him long enough to twist his words in some sadistic way?

Anyway, he didn’t deserved the grace of an answer to that.

If getting on his nerves was what this man wanted, he sure was getting there.

"Because they are... look, sir, I have no idea who those people on the phone where, but they couldn’t possibly... my parents died, long time ago... and will you stop calling me Johnny... MY NAME IS DANIEL, OK!?", he said, the sadness morphing in to anger, as the strongest of wills to smash the doctor’s face grew inside his gut.

Taking a deep breath, and reasoning that this was just some weird nightmare, from which he would wake up any minute now, Daniel tried a different approach, as convincing this people that he really was insane wouldn’t get him nowhere.

So, he started from top.

"Look, I can’t tell you why those persons did this to me, or even who the hell they were, because I haven’t got a clue, but it’s pretty clear that they hadn’t the best of intentions since they lied, big time!... if you just call this number, and ask for Jack O’Neill", he said, quickly scribbling his friends phone number on the paper in front of him, " ...I’m sure he’ll have this misunderstanding solved in no time", Daniel said, hopeful that this people would come to their senses and realized he wasn’t crazy.

No such luck.

"I really don’t think that’s wise Johnny... now, let’s go back a little... tell me why you say your parents are dead?", the psychiatrist went on again, once more ignoring all the young man had said.

Daniel look at him in disbelieve.

Had he been talking in a different language all this time and hadn’t notice?

Was he talking at all?

Resting his head in his closed fists, Daniel closed his eyes.

He was tired to the bones of this all situation, he was tired of being drugged, treated like a nutcase and he was tired of being the only one in there to believe he wasn’t Johnny.

He knew all to well where this talk was heading, and he wasn’t going there again.

He felt his legs quivering underneath the table, the clasp of his hands being the only thing preventing them of shaking the same way.

The joys of psychiatric medication...

He opened his eyes and looked at the nurse.

He had thought she was on his side, but he was painfully wrong there.

To try to convince the ‘good’ doctor that he wasn’t crazy was totally useless.

The man had, obviously, already branded him as nuts, and nothing he did would change that, only enforced the notion further.

In his tired and still numb brain, this was all proving to be too much for him to handle.

There was no way for him to win this situation, as the cards were all mark and the table set against him.

"Are you still listening to me Johnny?", Dr. James asked again.

Ah... the last drop!

"I AM NOT JOHNNY, GODAMNIT!" the young man finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slamming his fists on the tabletop, sending half the things on its top flying to the floor.

The doctor didn’t even flinch.

"Do try to calm down", he said quietly.

"I’m sick and tired of being ‘calmed down’... by myself and by your fucking medication!.. Why do you always have your damn solutions inside a medication syringe? Why to you people ‘calm’ equals to BE DRUGGED IN TO STUPOR?", he angrily barked, totally out of himself.

"Look around you... this people look like zombies, for Christ’ sake! Is this YOUR definition of normal? Is this normal to you, Dr. James?", he said, his eyes throwing lightning volts in to the other man’s face, just inches apart from his.

This, Daniel figured, deep inside his anger, was his point of no return.

No way he was going to convince them that he wasn’t crazy now.

But he wasn’t going to be drugged to his gills any more.

If a violent patient was what they were expecting, then a violent patient was what he was gonna be.

Because he was keeping his mind this time... and he was whiling to fight for it...

"Why the hell can’t you just realize that you’ve got the wrong person in here? Why?", Daniel whispered in the doctor’s ear, his voice dripping with the same kind of hate that he reserved for the Goa’uld.

Hate and despair.

A deadly combination.

The doctor did flinch then.

"Take him away", Dr. James said to the couple of aids that had approach their table as the commotion started.

Huge hands grabbed him from behind.

Determined to not be subdue in to the same kind of existence he had be having for the past times, Daniel fought hard...

... and lost fast.

The two, ever present, aids were bigger than him, stronger than him and hadn’t spent the last week under deep psychiatric medication, so they soon had Daniel under their control, his arms pushed almost to braking point behind his back, so that movement wasn’t an available option.

"He needs to deal with all of that suppressed anger and violent tendencies... take him away!" Dr. James said, finding no need to tell the aids where to.

They already knew where, as they half-pushed, half-dragged the young man towards the same corridor the black man had traveled before.

The medic returned to his private office, closing his ears to the shouts of ‘Let me go!" of his patient as his voice died out with the distance.

Nurse Orson crashed on the chair, feeling tired, old... defeated.

She could hate herself.

She could hate the fact that she had been to coward to do anything.

She was almost sure that the young man was right, that he was there by mistake... even if he wasn’t there by mistake, she hated the way Lazarus doctors dealt with their patients and all that happen behind those isolated walls.

This was all wrong, and she knew it.

The middle age nurse wished she had done something to prevent what was about to happen.

But she hadn’t.

She couldn’t.

Her eyes fell upon the white paper with a trembling black writing.

Johnny’s handwriting.

Johnny’s friend phone number – Jack O’Neill – 9026678944.

Grabbing the piece of paper, the nurse left the room, leaving behind the disturbing sound of the patients mantra over the yellow room.

It might be too late, but damn her if she wasn’t gonna help the young man... no matter what!

*’*

Surprisingly enough, the yellow room was... yellow.

Daniel had given up on struggling and yelling his lungs out to the aids, as he accomplish nothing with that, except for a sore throat and looking completely nuts.. which was something he was trying to prove he was not!

Inside the room, another medic and two male nurses were already waiting for him, apparently having finished with the previous ‘trouble maker’ patient.

When Daniel manage to take a look at the rooms contents, his struggles with the two aids, still holding him down, reborn with renewed strength, as panic released the gates of an adrenaline flow and realization downed on to him.

Now he understood why the patients feared this room.

The problem wasn’t the walls or their color.

The problem, as virtue, was in the middle, were he could see a bed, adorned with all sorts of straps and heavy looking restrains, and an old looking electric-like machine, whose function Daniel could guess at.

He, as everyone else, had already heard the stories about the ‘ancient’ treatments that were often used on mental patients, way back on the starters of mental heath history.

He had heard about the beatings and the electric shocks used to control the body and heal the head, as they believe that most of the mental diseases had their source on the electric currents inside the brain.

He had heard the craziest theories about the subject.

He had even seen a movie or two about it.

But he did never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that such ignorant acts were still preformed on human beings.

On him!

Truth came crashing on him with the softness of a nuclear bomb, as aids and nurses helped the nameless doctor to secured him to the bed and placed some sort of band around his head.

"Wait... you can’t do this!" Daniel tried to reason with them, while his voice was still working over the panic that was drowning him.

No answer.

"Please... listen to me... this is wrong! I’m not crazy!", he tried again, the fear making him fight against the strong restrains, even though his brain kept telling him it was no use.

No answer.

"Please... don’t do this to..."

The rest of the young man’s protests died in his mouth, as one of the nurses placed a small piece of something soft between his teeth, making it impossible for him to say nothing more.

He was now silent, but still there and more than aware of what was going to happen.

Daniel stare, with his scared eyes open wide, following every movement around him, as the staff prepared him and the machine for his treatment.

He could see their mouths moving, as they talked to each other, apparently sharing some joke, but no sound seemed to reach his ears, as the only thing that he could hear was the pounding of his own fast beating heart.

‘This isn’t happening... thisisn’thappening... pleasegod... this is not happening to me!’ Daniel started, in his silent and personal mantra, fury and fear all melting in to something that made his all body shake.

Daniel tried to convince himself that this was only a dream, and that, as in all dreams, he would wake up before something bad happened.

So concentrated he was in that small piece of protectiveness, that he didn’t even took notice when the medic set the right voltage on the machine and pressed the ‘on’ button... until the first electric shock started racing through his brain and chased him out of his hiding place.

As his body, unconsciously, fought the restrains, arching itself in the small space of air that the straps allowed, Daniel’s brain last coherent thought was that the human had truly succeeded in creating a Goa’uld hand device.

And it hurt more than the original.

After that, all that was left was pain.

Seconds after the ‘treatment’ had started, Daniel’s brain just shut down all major areas and shielded itself in a safer place, away from the pain, the electric voltage and the convulsing body of it’s owner.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Well, if life had a bottom to hit, then SGC had hit it... hard!

Divided between two missions, of finding Daniel and who was selling SGC, SG1 had manage to fail in both.

Over a week had gone by, and Daniel was still nowhere to be found, with no clues left behind on what could’ve happen on that day.

They had looked in every possible place, in every possible way, turned DC and every site around it upside down, but the man seemed to had evaporated from the Earth’s face.

When Washington proved to be of no more use to them on either missions, SG1 returned to Colorado, feeling like they had abandoned their teammate all over again.

Not only that being bad enough, NID was after the missing archeologist too, his ‘guilt’ having been ‘proved’ when the autopsy on Grahams body reveled that the bullet that had effectively killed him had been fired from the gun that had Daniel’s prints on it.

That said, the ‘brains’ behind the Stargate program, eager to find someone to blame for the information leak, were quick enough in buying Daniel’s guilt, reasoning that, as a scholar, it was understandable that the young man wanted the show the rest of the world his discoveries and all of the major breakthroughs that SGC had accomplished in this years.

That it must have been very hard for him not to able to show his colleagues that his theories were all right.

That he was right.

A very strong point... to anyone who had never met the man itself.

Because those who knew him, knew with out a doubt that, the same man that had risked his life, times and times over, to safe Earth, to save his friends, to save strangers, would never in his life betray Stargate’s secrecy.

So, when Colonel O’Neill smashed the first coffee cup against a wall, after being told about this new theory to prove his friend’s guilt, SG1 had been dismissed from it’s missions and was ordered home, to ‘cool down’, before they did something that maybe be sorry for after.

SG1 and Daniel’s friends were about the only ones to believe his innocence, completely disregarding all proves against him, that said the opposite.

But still, the man was missing and, not being there to give his side of the story, only made him look even more guilty.

Which wasn’t good.

In past week, SGC’ situation too had gone from bad to worst, as another article had been published, this time by a different paper, and this time, giving the supposed location of the Stargate installations, a pretty good guess, as it really was the right location of the gate!

So, as it was expected, the next day, the front gate of Cheyenne Mountain Complex was crawling with newspaper reporters, TV reporters and all sort of curious people, all demanding to enter the place and see what was inside.

Although, so far, the mob had been prevented from getting inside the mountain by Air Force and Army troops, the situation was deteriorating fast, the President being cornered by his enemies and politic adversaries, making the possibility of public entrance in the top secret facilities much more close to reality as each day passed by without a solution.

So, yeah, if life had a bottom, SGC had hit it... very hard!

*’*

SG1 was all, minus the missing member, in the Colonel’s place, once again debating their options and ways to convince Hammond that they should be aloud to enter the search team for the vanished anthropologist.

"But Sir... how are the three of us gonna find Daniel if General Hammond wont even let us get any info from SGC? We’ve tried searching for him on our own, and come out empty handed... we have absolutely no idea on where he could be!" the Major said, once again playing the devil’s advocate on the subject of starting a search party of their own.

The Colonel looked at her thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you’re right... but it makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

"Wonder what Sir?", Sam asked, for once totally lost.

"Come Major... we’re Daniel’s team... for Christ’ sake, we’re the guy’s family! Haven’t any of you find it a little weird that Hammond let us, of all people, out of the search? Haven’t you at least wonder why would he do that?" he asked, carefully eyeing his team.

"Because you broke his piece of pottery to drink coffee?" Teal’c suggested.

Jack gave him a side look.

"Mug, Teal’c. It was a mug, and no, that’s not what I’m talking about"

"Are you implying something Sir?"

"I don’t imply... I’m just wondering Major, just wondering", he said, remembering the warning the General had given him about wanderings, right after Emilia’s death.

"I mean, I would trust Hammond with my life, as the damn good CO he his, without even given it a second a thought, but he’s also the commander of the most secret project in US... heck, of the all damn world!"

"And?", Sam asked, still not following.

The older officer looked at her, envying her naiveté.

"And, such a position makes him vulnerable, especially to politicians... and those are the ones that I don’t trust!"

"And?"

Is it me or Sam had been spending too much time around Daniel lately?

"And Major, commanders often are forced to take actions that they might not like or even agree," he said with a knowing look on his face "but they do it anyway, because they have to obey the ones on top... in this case, politicians! All that I’m saying is that I’m sure Hammond had to take a couple of this hard decisions in the past and is still having to take them now, specially were the Stargate security and secrecy are concerned"

"You’re talking about Armin’s accident, aren’t you Sir?" Carter asked, the wheels finally clicking together inside her head, starting her engine train of thought full speed ahead.

Jack just nodded.

"And Emilia’s too", he added, remembering the day , several months before, when the young woman had showed up in SGC, saying she was Danny’s sister.

Although nothing was proved at the time, Daniel still mourned her like a sister, after having seen her blow up in her car, right in front of him.

"What? Are you serious Sir?", Sam asked, surprise to hear the Colonel raise such suspicions over General Hammond, after all, the man that had even risked his life to save theirs.

To imply, even remotely, that the General could’ve had a active part in any of those deaths, was, was... unthinkable!

"You are saying that General Hammond has deceived us, O’Neill?" the Jaffa asked too, the idea of the older man doing such low acts not going well with his concept of the good General too.

"It’s only suspicions guys, just ideas in the air... know that itching feeling behind your ears?"

He could tell by the look on Teal’c’s face that he had no idea.

"Well ,that’s what this suspicions are made of... so far", the Colonel said, knowing all to well how often this ‘itching’ feelings of his had been proven right.

"Even so, Si..." Sam started again, only to be cut off by the loud ringing of the Colonel’s phone in his living room.

Three pares of eyes looked at the ringing machine like it was going to bite them, as it had been since Daniel had disappeared.

With their friend missing, each phone call one of them got could always be THE phone call none of them wanted to get, the one with the news of a dead body found, the one with someone with a dark voice demanding something in exchange for the young man, the one that would end their search the worst possible way.

So, for now, phones were their enemies.

Even so, Jack picked it up.

"Hello?... You’re talking to him Ma’am... ok, Mrs. Orson, what do you want from me?... Johnny? No, I don’t know any Johnny... yes Ma’am, I’m pretty sure" the Colonel said, ready to hang up the phone on the face of the woman on the other side.

Colonel Jack O’Neill was never famous for being a patience person, any one who remotely knew him knew that much, and even more so when he had other things in his mind.

Big, personal, important things... like a missing friend!

The woman on the other side of the phone however, wasn’t ready to give up.

"Look, Ma’am, I told you already, I’ve never heard of a John Smith, the only John Smith I know of was Pocahontas boyf... he called himself what?!" Jack suddenly said, almost dropping the phone in his surprise.

His shout caught the attention of the rest of SG1.

Something was up.

"What’s the address there?... That’s past Denver, right?... Ok, Ma’am, thank you very much... we’re on our way there!", he said, finally hanging up the receiver.

Sam was looking anxiously at him and even Teal’c had ‘that look’ on his face.

"We’ve found Daniel" the Colonel said, halfway already out his door.

"Where?" Sam asked, relief already washing through her face, as she and Teal’c followed the older man to his jeep, parked in front of the house.

Jack paused just short of opening the driver’s car door.

He knew they would like it no better than he had.

"Lazarus Mental Institute" he finally said, trying to keep any sort of emotion out if his voice.

"Oh my God!" Carter let out, not being so good in hiding her emotions, as her voice choked on the memories.

"We must hurry O’Neill!" Teal’c said, with an urgency in his voice that mirrored Jack’s state of mind.

"My thoughts exactly guys!" he said, starting the engine and taking off.

Praying for not being too late.

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

Raise your right hand.

Now, place it over the left side of your chest.

Can you feel it?

Your heart.

The center of our soul’s gravity.

The high and low points of our feelings.

The engine of life.

Is it beating fast or is it beating slow?

Concentrate on it’s beating.

And let yourself go.

Someone once said that whenever the heart starts to rule, the head ends its kingdom.

Because they’re always on opposite sides of the same coin, like spoiled sisters fighting over everything, each convinced to own truth.

Don’t take your hand yet.

Concentrate your mind on that strong, steady pounding.

Now tell me...

What rules more in you?

The heart...

... or the head?

Feelings or logic?

Because the real difference resides in feeling and logic.

Because some people are only able to act logical and forgot how to feel, afraid that, if allowed, their heart starts commanding their life and they’ll lose control over it.

Because, in the end, it’s all about not being afraid to lose control.

Of letting yourself go.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Lazarus was a quiet place on the top of its hill, alone where it stood in the first hours of a brand new day, the sun already up behind the old house.

Flying over in the first plane that went Lazarus way, without needing to highjack one, three quarters of SG1 arrived at their destination short after eight in the morning, all of them a little pissed, each in its very unique way, by the fact that it had taken more time to rent a car to drive them there than it had taken the plane to fly there!

Jack, Teal’c and Sam entered through the front door of the peaceful, half asleep mental house like enraged hurricanes, reaping the silence in to tiny shreds.

On the way there, the SG1 members had carefully analyzed what they should do when and if Daniel was in deed there.

Knowing that they couldn’t risk asking for Mary Orson, as they suspected that the woman hadn’t called them with much of a approval from her chefs, they thought best of keeping a low profile about the woman’s help and try to get to Daniel through other means.

Lying was the next best option.

And the options had been many, from saying that they where Daniel’s family and that he had run from home, to saying that he had won the lottery and they were after him to deliver the prize.

Needless to say, all options went skyrocket during the journey, their tired nerves too stressed to play charades.

The idea of Daniel, trapped in a mental house once again, this time without the fragile support of being among people he knew, the fact that they didn’t knew how the heck he had gotten in there and most of all, how could the people that worked in there be so stupid not to see that they were locking a normal guy, was not a good one.

The theories on how this had happen, why it had happen and in what condition their friend was, for Lazarus personal to take him in (assuming they weren’t stupid) were, let’s say, not helping them calm their nerves.

So, they got in Lazarus to kill.

The woman seated behind the reception desk still had the tell tales of a full night sleeping wrote on her chubby face, but stopped her motion of rubbing her sleepy eyes when she saw the group of people strolling in her direction.

Although their faces and expressions passed the clear message that their business there wasn’t gonna be good, she decided to be cordial, as ever, even if their figures gave her the urge to flinch.

"Can I help you?", she asked, taking in the looks of the people in front of her.

Two men, both of them with hard looks on their faces, stood over her, hovering like hawks on the hunt. The woman that was with them, although looking calmer and not so predatory, also gave her a sense of unease that made her tremble under their triple gaze.

It was the older man who answered her, his face reflecting little patience and big anger.

Unfortunately for her, she was the closest thing resembling a target that he had right now.

"We are looking for a person, Dr. Daniel Jackson" he said in an emotionless cold voice.

"I believe we don’t have any Dr. Jackson working with us... are you sure that’s the name?", the woman asked, thinking that they where looking for one of the medics that worked at Lazarus.

"He doesn’t work in here... we received information that he was here as a... patient" O’Neill calmly explain her, reminding himself over and over to stay cool and don’t start smashing everything in his path, like he would like to.

"Ah..." the woman let out thoughtfully.

"You his relatives?", she asked.

"Yes" Sam said.

"No" Teal’c said.

"Sort of" Jack said.

The members of SG1 looked at each other, realizing that this was one of those answers that they should’ve rehearsal before.

The woman behind the desk was looking at them, with a expression on her face that clearly said that if they didn’t came up with a convincing answer in the next seconds, she was going to call security.

"She’s his wife, I’m like a brother to him and he’s a friend" Jack hastily said, trying to work around the answers everyone had gave.

Sam gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.

The woman behind the desk was still looking at them, but the answer, apparently, made sense enough for her.

"What was his name again?" she asked, already pulling out the patient files from one of the filers in front of her.

"Daniel Jackson", Carter quickly supplied.

"And when was he admitted in Lazarus?"

Sam looked at her teammates, a bit lost.

The almost imperceptible shoulder shrug that her CO made let her know that he didn’t had clue either.

"We don’t know for sure, but it was something within the last week", she supplied the other woman.

Taking her time to carefully examine the names of all patients in that place that had entered the past week, the woman start shaking her head negatively after awhile.

"Sorry, but the only Jackson I got here is a woman"

Without really knowing why, a wave of deep relief passed through the members of SG1.

Although not knowing where Daniel was wasn’t doing much for their nervous system, as they systematically imagined all the worst case scenarios for him, imagining that he had spent a all week in this place wasn't something they would like to dowel in too.

Still...

"Try under Smith... John Smith" Sam said, remembering what the woman on the phone had first called Daniel.

The woman on the desk eyed her strangely, probably wondering why this people were after some one that they hardly knew the name, or anything else, for that matter.

Maybe she should call security?

Sam notice the doubts in the other woman’s eyes, as she saw the occasional frighten looks she gave the Colonel’s and Teal’c’s way, their respect imposing figures not working in their favor this time.

Maybe it was time for a change of tactics.

Turning her back to the woman still looking at them, the Major silently motion for the two man to take a leave of the site and let her do the rest of the talking.

Woman to woman.

"Look, I know this must sound really strange, but the thing is that we’re all terribly worried about Danny..."

True so far... time for the lie.

"He suffers from occasional paranoia attacks" Sam said, the innocent lie sending shivers all over her body, just from thinking what had happen to her friend last time some one had raised one of those deeply psychiatric wild theories, and what might have happen this time.

Deciding this was not the time to let her brain run free, she swallowed her shiver and proceeded in making a story up as she went.

"This is not the first time something like this happens... he just disappears on us, and when we find him he doesn’t know where he is or who he is... starts calling himself John", she said ending with a rather theatrical nervous smile.

The other woman seemed to buy the story, again.

Fortunately for them.

Once again she run through the names on the files.

As her gaze traveled from one name to the next, the file she was looking for popped in to existence, as did the two marks that decorated that particular paper.

One, in red hand scribbling, warned of this being a violent patient, probably something her colleague had written down when she had admitted the patient in.

The other, in the opposite corner, was a blue stamp.

Blue stamps were, as she liked to called them, for ‘secret’ patients, for patients that weren’t allowed going outside, visits and, if necessary, were to be denied even existence, if the person asking raised any sort of suspicion.

Like these particular group of people had.

"Sorry, no John Smith either" she said without meeting the woman’s eyes.

The Major, however, notice the small flickering of the other’s woman voice and saw her finger holding one of the files apart.

"Yeah, sure, right", she said sarcastically, taking the woman by surprise and yanking the file from her hands.

Time to blow precautions and games in to kingdom kong.

"Second floor Sir!", she yelled to her teammates, ignoring the protest of the other woman as she made her way towards the central stairs.

"Wait!... You can’t do that!", the woman called from behind the desk, already up and in full motion to call the security guards.

"Watch me!", Jack called up from the stairs.

As they arrived to the second floor, thanking their training for not being spitting their lungs out with the effort, O’Neill motion Teal’c to stand guard to the floor’s only visible entrance, knowing that the alien soldier would be able to stop the coming guards without hurting them or break a single sweat, while he and Carter went in search for their missing teammate in the floor’s wing reserved for male patients.

Turning left, the two Air Force Officials started picking on the small bars that adorned every one of the five locked doors on each side of the corridor, Jack taking the right side and his 2IC taking the other.

Sam was the one finding what they were looking for.

"Found him, Sir" she whispered, the joy Jack thought would accompany those words, absent from the woman’s voice.

When he looked inside the room she was standing in front of, he understood why.

Urgently grabbing the door’s knob, Jack desperately tried to open a door he already knew, was locked.

"Goddamn it!!" he barked, preparing himself to kick the door open.

"That wont be necessary" a female voice said from behind them.

Colonel Jack O’Neill, former Black Ops specialist, kicking himself out, for being so engrossed in his friend rescue that he had never heard the woman approach them, turned around to find himself looking at a short, middle age nurse.

Sam, right by his side, and as equally surprised, felt the tension rise in the air.

"Jack O’Neill, right?", the nurse asked, the sense of urgency they were feeling also present in her voice.

"Could be", the Colonel carefully answered, looking above the woman’s head, searching for her back up.

There was none.

"Don’t worry... I was the one that called you" she said, seeing where his train of thought was going.

"I wanna help" she added, looking the man square in the eyes without flinching.

"Mary Orson?" he asked, recognizing her voice from the phone call.

Not really knowing why, he had pictured a much taller woman, maybe with the body of a wrestling fighter, not the small and fragile looking woman, with graying brown hair and tender eyes that now stood in front of him.

Maybe it was her voice.

It held a lot of strength.

"Yes... I work in here", she said, a bit of shame reaching her voice.

Looking down, she started fishing her pocket for the room’s keys.

"How did you find me?" the Colonel asked, looking puzzled as the small woman easily opened the door he was ready to destroy.

"He told me" she simply said, in a whisper, motioning to the figure on the bed inside the dark room.

Despite all the rush the two SG1 members had felt before entering the room, they made they way slowly to their friend, remembering all to well what they had seen from the door, knowing they weren’t going to like it.

As lights went on in the room, they could clearly see their missing teammate.

And they didn’t like it.

Daniel was, once again, secured to the bed by the heavy restrains, his shivering body covered only by a thin gown.

His eyes, although opened, were unfocused and unmoving, and his mouth, slightly opened, was the beginning of a trail of slob that ended in his pillow.

As they neared the bed, the smell of vomit and human pee assaulted their noses.

A total mess.

"Daniel..." Sam trembling whispered, more as a statement than a call, as she knew he wouldn’t answer back.

Still, she needed to remind herself that the figure on the bed was really her friend, as it held none of the light and passion that she had always sensed in Daniel, even when things were bad.

"God... what happen to him?" Jack asked the silent nurse at the door.

Nearing his young friend, Jack got his answer when he passed a hand through Daniel’s wet hair, stroking him like he did with his son when he was sick.

There, partially covered by the short hair, stood the red marks in the young man’s temple.

Red marks left by electric burns.

"Goddamn it!" , he said again, grabbing the other man’s dirty chin and turning his face towards him.

"Daniel... Danny... buddy... you with me?" he started, urging his friend to give him any sign that those ‘persons’ hadn’t done anything beyond repair to him.

The Colonel felt a hard fist wrap itself around his heart, as the once so intelligent blue eyes, now looked at him devoid of any recognition, heavy eyelids blinking, fighting to stay open.

"Damn it!" he voiced his frustration.

"Let’s get him out of here!", he ordered, back in his CO mode, trying not to face the Major’s tear wet face.

The nurse made a motion to help them loosen the straps.

"Don’t!", Jack almost shouted, preventing the woman from touching Daniel.

"Get the hell away from him!" he said, anger pouring out from his clenched teeth.

Nurse Orson looked at him like a frightened deer, and backed away.

Tough voices and sharp commands had never affected her, but this time it was different.

This man had all the reasons in the world for his harsh words.

He had come to Lazarus to find his friend, and had found in his place only a shadow of him, a faint painted shell of what he knew.

So, he had every right to be angry.

At her.

Because part of had happen had been her fault.

A part she was finding very hard to bare.

Sam looked up from her task of freeing Daniel’s arms when she heard the sharp words of the Colonel, all the way avowing to look at Daniel’s condition and trying really hard to ignore the fact that her friend, one of the most brilliant minds she had ever encounter in her life, the three times Ph.D., solver of the Stargate enigma in Guinness record time speed, was wearing dippers.

"Sir, if it wasn’t for her, we would never found Daniel" she calmly remembered her CO, trying to coach some sense back in to his head.

Jack paused from his task too, looking at Daniel’s feet.

She was right.

His head knew she was right, but his heart, even so, demanded revenge, no matter from who, just revenge on the first person he came across that his heart could remotely link with what had happen to his friend.

Guilty or not, his heart’s logic was telling him that this nurse was, for now, the perfect target.

In his heart, it was logic that she paid for what had been done, even though she helped Daniel.

Then again, the heart was never famous for its logic abilities...

"You’re right... I’m sorry ma’am" he said, still not looking at the woman.

"Don’t be... it’s your right to feel that way" the nurse said sadly, tears glistering in her eyes.

"I was too chicken to do something right in the beginning, and when I finally did, it was already late... but now, I’m willing to do anything to help this young man", she said, the determination in her voice making her look like a giant.

Moving to older man’s side, she helped him hoist the young man to his feet and together they started making their way to the exit, with Sam in point, in case some nasty surprise chose to show it’s ugly little head.

As the group neared the entrance were they had left Teal’c, the image of the big guy hovering two unconscious guards greeted them.

"Oh my God!" the nurse yelped, seeing the giant man with a baseball hat on his head and the two limp bodies.

"Do not worry... they are not harmed", the man said to her in a voice too gentle for his figure, replacing her on the side of his teammate, immediately taking a protective stance towards the young man.

Somehow, the sweet tone of voice and actions of the big stranger smooth the woman’s doubts and started to let her feel safe in his presence.

"Ok people, let’s move this show downstairs!" the Colonel ordered, giving the older woman the impression that they were more than used to work together, maybe in the Army, by the way the blond woman had addressed to him.

Then she remembered something else.

"Wait!... we can’t go through front, they’ll be waiting there", she warned them, knowing perfectly well that, by now, reception would be crawling with security guards.

And Lazarus had a lot of those.

Instead of the front door, nurse Orson lead the group to the first floor, to an exit that led directly to the personnel parking lot and her small Renault.

The Colonel paused, looking at the dark blue car.

"No way!" Jack whispered when he saw the size of the nurse’s car, seriously doubting that the five of them would fit in there.

"Only way... there’s no chance of you being able to reach your car by now" she remind them.

"Won’t they’ll be looking for you too?" Sam asked, secretly wishing that the woman wouldn’t choose this moment to remember that she could be risking her entire career.

"They will... then they will find that I helped a patient to escape... and then they’ll fire me", the woman said calmly, while waiting for Teal’c to squeeze himself in the seat by her side, Jack and Sam already in the back, flaking the ‘patient’ in question.

"Are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, you’re basically throwing your job in the wind shield for a couple of total strangers!", the Major couldn’t help herself from saying, even though she realize that, without the help of the older woman, they wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping Lazarus.

But her conscious was getting the best of her, as always.

Not even the murderous look the Colonel gave her, clearly saying that she was the one that should be in a straight jacket, stopped her.

"Don’t worry about that... besides, they won’t fire me", the woman said, oblivious to the glares that were passing between the two militaries on the back seat.

"They wont?", the Colonel and the Major chorus, suddenly looking at the nurse.

"Nope" the woman said with a triumphant look on her face.

"I quit two hours ago", the woman said, beaming.

Apparently, Daniel wasn’t the only one getting his freedom today.

"Where to?" she asked, turning to Teal’c.

The big man was lost.

He looked back to his teammates, trying to find an answer to that question, but they looked as clueless as he, Jack shrugging his shoulders, fresh out of ideas, and Sam almost doing the same, if it wasn’t for the sleeping anthropologist on her shoulder.

They couldn’t go to SGC or any of their places, because the police and NID would be for sure looking for Daniel there, and none of them knew any place around there where they could stay for awhile, at least until they knew what to do from there.

And they needed Daniel back to himself before they could do anything else.

"My place then?" Mary Orson suggested, seeing their faces.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Hot sun and dark clothing do not mingle!

That’s a given fact.

Everyone knows that.

Especially the two men dressed in black that had been lying on their stomachs for the last hour, under a killing hot sun that had made their shirts stiff.

Even so, as good professionals they were, the two men hardly moved from their watch spot, not even to wipe the sweat from their faces.

"Gezz, Higgs, you’re starting to stink!" one of the men said.

"Shut up and take a look at that", the other replied, not very concerned about his body aromas, passing his binoculars to him.

"What?" ‘Crazy’ Bob said, raising his brain from it’s half-numbness.

Surveillance assignments were the worst of all, so boring that everyone in NID tried to ditch them to the next poor guy.

This time, the ‘nest poor guy’ had been he and his partner.

Their mission was to watch and follow every step of two Air Force officers and some big, weird guy.

Since the moment the ABP had been released on a Dr. Jackson, a week ago, NID had joined forces with the police in Colorado and Washington to capture the fugitive, having been placed steak out units on every possible place, especially on his friends.

Higgs and ‘Crazy’ Bob were the mobile unit in charge of spying the latter’s.

And, as such, they got the lucky assignment of following the group of persons in question, halfway across the country, to an old crazy people house.

How appropriate.

So now, ‘Crazy’ Bob was tired, grumpy and in serious need of sleep.

And he needed a cold beer!

Taking the binoculars from his partner with a clenched teeth blunter, ‘Crazy’ took a pick.

"Can’t see a damn thing on this shit Higgs!" he grunted.

"Change the range you dumb ass! Forgot I’m short sighted?" Higgs replied, too tired himself to take in his partner’s bad mood.

He had his own to deal with.

Finally getting the glasses right, ‘Crazy’ saw what had excited his partner so much.

On the next hill, in the back of the old house were they had saw the group enter before, the same group was leaving, this time with two additional elements.

One of those new addictions was a small woman, dressed in a white uniform, probably a nurse from the mental house.

As for the fifth member, slumbered between the Colonel and the big guy, was none other then...

"...the Jackson dude!", Bob let out, recognizing, as his partner had, the man they were looking for, from the pictures NID had handed them.

"Eggxactly!" Higgs beamed, seeing the end of that boring mission coming closer and closer.

"Should we call headquarters?" he asked his partner.

"No, not yet... let’s see where they’re heading and then we’ll give the chief head-guys their exact location", ‘Crazy’ said, seeing that the group of people was getting ready to move.

Getting in their own car, the two NID agents got ready to follow.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Three miles away from Lazarus, Mary Orson’s house stood a bit isolated from the rest of a quiet little town.

Surrounded by a carefully planted and cared garden, full of all kinds of flowers, the small white place took its colors from the roses, tulips, orchids and daisies around it.

Gardens told a lot about their owners.

Cold, insensitive people, even if they had all the room in the world to plant a garden, never did.

Head-in-the-clouds people had them, but tended to let them grow in to small jungles, full of scrubs and weed, from lack of care.

Meticulous and controlling people had carefully organized gardens... red flowers apart from white flowers, flowers apart from fruit trees and plants, apart from spice herbs, all separated in carefully designed layouts.

Practical people had dull gardens, filled only by what they consumed, from strawberry to mint plants, that, although colored the air with heavenly scents, didn’t colored the garden.

Then, you had the gardens of gentle, kind people, the ‘art lovers’.

They planted their gardens like a painter paints a canvas, flowers placed in a way that made them grow in to a natural bouquet, their colors arranged to marble the eye and ease the soul.

‘Art lovers’ gardens were a celebration of beauty and life.

‘Art lovers’ gardens were created by people that loved life’s beauty.

And Mary Orson’s garden breathed life.

Opening her front door, the small woman let the group in to her house, leading the big man, Teal’c, as she had been told in the car’s drive when Jack had made all the introductions, to her spare room in the back of the one floored house, as the other man and the woman stayed a little behind, to see if anyone had followed them there.

Laying his precious load in the soft bed, Mary watched as the big man stood aside, allowing her access but standing in a silence watch, guarding the sleeping young man.

When she had dialed the phone number that the young man had asked, part of her was still expecting to arrive at a dead end, with no one on the other side to answer her, expecting Jack O’Neill to be only a figure imagined by Jo... by Daniel, to save him.

But then, a very real voice had answered her on the phone, and she knew that they had all been terribly wrong about the young man.

But, by then, he had already been placed in his room, with orders to no one get in there but his medic, and there was nothing more for her to do but wait for Jack to arrive and find were Daniel’s door key had been hidden, so that they could get him out.

Jack, she figured, must be one of the best, if not THE best of Daniel’s friends, although she could tell, by the care and love that the other two showed towards the young man, that the four of them had a very close relationship.

When she had hanged out the phone, she had been convinced that the man would be arriving alone, as he hadn’t said anything to let her know otherwise.

So, when she saw the woman and the other man, she was taken a bit by surprise.

Something that quickly faded.

The blond woman, Carter, if she remembered right, treated Daniel like a young brother, although she seemed to be about his age.

And the other man... well, the only way she could think of to describe him was something between Mr. Spock from Star Track and Mr. T from the A-team.

And both of them were guarding Daniel.

"Will you give me a hand with him?" she asked him, intended in cleaning up the mess the young man was in.

"Certainly"

Short and polite.

"Ok" she said, going in to the adjoining bathroom to fetch some clean water and a towel.

Maybe some of her husband’s clothes would fit the young man?

Although Samuel had died over a year ago, she still hadn’t had the heart to give his clothes away, and now they might come in handy.

When she returned to the room, Teal’c was still in the same place.

Big and silent.

He really looked like a guardian.

Mary, never a curious person in her life, was starting to get curious about this group of people.

Besides their names, they had hardly said another word on the way there, so she still knew nothing about who they were, who was the young man that was sleeping in her guest room and what was happening, as she guessed that this wasn’t a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Maybe the big silent man could shed some light over her curiosity blackness.

"So... Teal’c, right?" she started casually, while she started cleaning the heavily asleep man on the bed, the big man helping her whenever she needed to turn Daniel on his side.

The man nodded.

"Do you all know each others a long time?"

"Three years"

"Nice... you what, work together?"

"Yes"

Boy, this guy took short answering up to an art form.

"In the Army?" she ventured, trying to see if her guesses were right.

"Air Force"

"And you’re in trouble, right?" she ventured again, as, although not knowing much about the way things in the military worked, she could tell that something wasn’t right with this group.

The silent man remained silent, as this was obviously something he didn’t, or couldn’t talk about.

"Ok, I understand that... what about him?" she asked, pointing to Daniel.

"Can you tell me about him, or is it classified too? What’s his post or rank, or what ever you guys called it?"

For the first time since they had entered the room, the big man’s gaze shift from the young man to her.

The silence that fell upon the room became so thick that she could hear the drops of water that were falling from her not-so-firmly shut faucet in the bathroom.

Mary was feeling judged under that firm gaze.

Finally, the big man diverted his eyes and answered her.

"Daniel Jackson is not with the military... he his a scholar, a man of great knowledge about many things, and one of the most honorable and brave man I have ever encounter in my life... I am proud of being called friend by him", he solemnly stated, his face blank as ever since the older woman had met him, except for the shine in his eyes that spoke of his deep admiration towards the sleeping man.

This time, it was Mary turn to stare at the man.

She wasn’t expecting such a reverenced description... maybe a ‘he’s a nice guy and we have good laughs together’ or a ‘it’s good to work with him and we have a lot of fun over some beers’... not something that you find in history books, talking about some important figure of the past.

Still, she knew the big man meant every word he had said.

And she believed him.

"All done" the nurse said, both talking about her work and her talk.

What she had heard had more then summered all she needed to know about that group and the young man she now covered with a warm blanket.

‘Life hasn’t been very nice to you... but it sure paid you off in good friends’ she thought to herself.

There was only one more thing that she needed to do.

Grabbing Daniel’s left arm, Mary cut through the white plastic band that stood there, forever freeing the young man from John Smith.

Now, all they had to do was wait, and see if sleep was all he needed to be better.

"Is he gonna be ok?" someone asked from the room’s door.

The older woman turned around, startled from the quietness that had settled inside the room.

Leaning in the door’s frame, the other two strangers stood, anxiously watching their friend.

"He’ll be, in time. He has a strong mind and will be able to overcome the treatm... what as be done to him. We’ll just have to give it a little space for him to win over the side effects", the woman said sadly.

Too many times before she had to take care of patients coming out of the electric shocks treatment room, and each and every time her stomach had rebel with what she saw.

Grown up people that minutes before could take care of themselves, needing care like small children, as they, for usually small time periods, lost their ability to control most of their bodily functions, result of the brain numbness that settle in after the shock.

And that was just one of the side effects.

Never in her life had she agreed with such procedures, as they were more than proved to be of no benefit for those who were submitted to them and had, occasionally, left man and woman forever in veggie land, forever ‘damaged’ in stupid attempts to give them some measure of peace or cure them.

In a way, that was part of her reasons for never leaving Lazarus before.

She felt she was doing something to help the patients there, by staying by their side, but now she could see she had been wrong.

She should have taken some attitude long before.

If she had, who knows, maybe Daniel would’ve never ended up in there.

"So this is only temporary?" Sam asked, moving to the side of the bed, seating next to her friend to gently smooth the young man’s hair, seeing the old stripes pajama Daniel was now wearing.

She looked at the old woman, questionably.

"My husband’s... Look, I’m very sorry for not being able to help him before this happen" the nurse said, still tormented by the feeling of failure that had been her faithful campaigner for so long.

With her head down cast and her small hands resting on top of her lap, in a stance that only transmitted guilty and sorrow, Carter realized how much this strange woman remind her of someone else, someone she had lost a long time ago.

Although younger, Mary Orson had the same sad and, at the same time, peaceful dark green eyes of her grandmother, and, apparently, the same ability to take in all the sins and sorrows of the same sick world.

"You have nothing to be sorry for... your help was precious" Sam said, getting off the bed and resting on her knees in front of the seated woman, locking her eyes with hers.

"I’m sure Daniel himself will say you that much when he wakes up" the, so far silent Colonel, added, letting the woman know that all grudges he might have had towards her were gone by now.

"How did he ended in that place, anyway?" he asked, in a tactfully change of subject.

"His parents took him there, or so I’ve been told" Mary carefully said, wondering if she was gonna get from them the same kind of reaction Daniel had had.

She wasn’t disappointed.

"That’s impossible!" Sam gasped, quickly getting to her feet.

"They died when he was just a kid!", she let out, putting voice to the rest of SG1’s stunned faces.

"Yeah, he told us something like that... we just didn’t believed him", the nurse said, remembering the unnerving conversation with Dr. James, knowing now how hard it must’ve been for the young man to be confronted again with such a hard experience, and not be believed.

"Ok, so they weren’t his parents... who were them then?" Jack asked.

"What I heard was that they were a middle age couple, looking kind of wealthy... came in a big, expensive car"

"But you never saw them?"

"No"

"He’d been there for a week, right?" Sam asked, getting a silent nod from the woman " so, he was taken to Lazarus right after disappearing from Washington, which means someone took him from there, by force, to Lazarus" the Major theorized.

As no one said a thing, she guessed they were agreeing.

"You know, now that you’re putting it in words, that may be the reason why he came to Lazarus completely doped and with a bruise in his head" the nurse remembered, the tiny pieces of the puzzle starting to take shape in her head.

"He was kidnapped!", she concluded, feeling like her life had just jumped from ‘normal’ to ‘spy movie’ version.

"Yeah, I think the same, but why would someone do that, I mean, if the idea was to take him out of some equation that we aren’t seeing here, why have all the trouble of kidnapping him, posing as his parents and dumping him in an old mental house, why not just kil..." she said, her theorizing brain getting the best of her, until she started hearing what she was about to say.

And then she got really red.

"Sorry"

"It’s ok Carter, I was wondering the same thing" the Colonel eased her.

He was wondering the same thing and was even getting a pretty good idea of the ‘why’ all the trouble.

"Mrs. Orson, I know this is your house, and all, but could you leave us for a second?" the Colonel politely asked, not wanting the gentle woman to get in to more trouble then the ones she was already probably in.

"Of course... I know how this military stuff of ‘needing to know’s’ works... I’ll go fix us something to eat" she said, before leaving the room.

"You have an idea on what is going on with Daniel Jackson" Teal’c stated.

"Yeah... it’s pretty obvious, really" he said, closing the room’s door.

"Who ever killed Lieutenant Graham Simmons was spotted by Daniel Jackson and arranged things so that he took all the blame" Teal’c calmly stated.

"Who ever killed Simmons, framed Daniel so that he took all the blame!" Sam said, finishing at the same time Teal’c did.

They looked at each other, a funny expression passing through their faces.

Jack look at them, surprised by their chorus theories.

"Hum... yeah, exactly!" he said, feeling that his chance of playing Sherlock had gone out the window.

"But who would do all that? And what was Graham’s part in all of this?" the Major asked.

"Well, about that I... have no idea", Jack confessed.

"Maybe Daniel Jackson has" Teal’s calmly said.

"I hope so Teal’c... I sure hope so" Jack said, again wondering why such a peaceful guy always managed to get himself in the worst troubles... no matter which planet he was!

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The man in black suit cleared his throat, almost afraid to make his presence known to the man seated with his back to him, facing a large window, from where an even larger fountain could be seen, the figure of a Venus goddess pouring water from the open shell that it’s slender hands held.

"Excuse moi... Monsieur LaMarq?" the man tried again to gain the attention of the older man, once more disrupting the silence of the library, filled with ancient books from top to bottom, expensive looking paintings hanging from the few spots not occupied with scrolls.

"Parle" // Speak \\ , the seated man finally said, his voice sharp and low, showing some of the annoyance he was feeling for hearing the other man, as the sound of a closing book was heard behind the turned chair.

"Pardon moi pour la interruption de votre lecture, Monsieur LaMarq, mais... notre contact avec NID à téléphoner... apparentement SG1 à trouvé Dr. Jackson dans le Lazarus clinique... ils sont tout maintenant dans un de las infirmier maison" // Excuse me for interrupting you reading, Mr. LaMarq, but... our contact with NID has just called... it seams that SG1 found Dr. Jackson in the Lazarus institute... they are all now in the house of one of the nurses \\

The seated man turned his chair around and faced the man in black suit.

"Comme?" // How? \\ , the cold voice asked, this time letting the other man see the anger that was building in his dark eyes.

"Je ne sais pais Monsieur... peut-être la infirmier les a aider... peut-être un de..." // I don’t know Sir... maybe the nurse helped them... maybe one of... \\ , the man started to mumble.

"Idiots... vous sont tout des idiots!" // Idiots... you’re all idiots \\ the older man said, more as stating a fact than as venting for his anger.

"Mais, ce pais notre faut..." // But it wasn’t our fault... \\ , the other man tried to reason.

"Silence!" // Shut up! \\ the seated man said, only so slightly raising the tone of his voice.

Even so, the man in front of him trembled.

Because the man in the black suit knew more than well what happen to people that made LaMarq angry.

Employers or not.

"Prendre trois de te idiot compagnons et porte moi Dr. Jackson et le reste de SG1" // Take three of your idiots pals and bring me Dr. Jackson and the rest of SG1 \\ the man ordered, seeing that his man was already on his way. .

"Et Pierre..." // And Pierre... \\ he quickly added.

The man in black suit stop on his tracks.

"Oui Monsieur?", he asked, anxious to take a leave of his boss’s presence.

"Sans tromperie cet fois" // No mistakes this time \\ he said, letting the silent menace in the air.

The man in black suit knowingly nodded and quickly left.

LaMarq waited until the other had closed the library’s door before grabbing his book once again.

Instead of opening it and resume his reading, the old man just stood there, caressing the soft leather cover of the thick ‘Gulliver Voyages’ that he held in his lap.

"Proche... je suis très proche pour fêler maintenant" // Near... I’m too near to fail now \\ the man said, thinking loud, his soft strokes turning in to painful scrapping in the books cover, as the thoughts of not completing his brilliant plan began to take form in his demented mind.

"Et Jean Gilbert LaMarq jamais fêles!" // And Jean Gilbert LaMarq never fails! \\

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

Daniel awoke once again in a dark room. Back to his dark room.

The last images that his eyes had engraved in his brain came back with the force of a lightning bolt, as flashes of a yellow room full of pain came exploding behind his pupils, and the gates of fear were once again open. And out from them came all the emotions that flushed logic and sense down the toilet so panic could rule.

As that single feeling begun to take control over the confused anthropologist, Daniel trashed away the soft blanket that was covering him and stumbled out of the room, hardly taking notice to little details, like the door, usually locked, that was now slightly open, or the window, that had never been there before, but now let the room be floated with a soft golden light, the last beams of a sunny day.

*'*'*'*'*

Colonel Jack O'Neill sat in front of the TV, looking at it, but seeing nothing. His mind was far, far away, traveling among the many theories that had sprung to life in the last couple of hours, theories about Daniel and about the mess he, they and SGC were in.

"O'Neill, you must see this!", the deep voice of his alien friend, seated beside him, called him back to earth.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting around to see what had gotten the other man's attention.

Teal'c pointed to the TV, raising the volume.

"*... official sources had confirmed that, and I quote 'inside Cheyenne Mountain there's nothing more than NORAD and old military warehouse's'.... today, in his press conference, the President has announced that a small group of civilian representatives WILL BE allowed access to the military facility, within the day.... this decision was announced right after a meeting that was held this morning, in the White House, between the President and the Joint Chiefs" "Seems the President is trying to prove that he's got nothing to hide, Michael..." "There are some political analysts that think so too, although other opini...*"

The reporter went on his analysis of the situation, the camera doing a close up of the guarded gates to the complex, the reporter's voice died away, as Teal'c turned the volume down again, not really interested in how this would affect this country's president.

Jack was hypnotized by the scenes playing on the TV, the crowd getting bigger and bigger as the news traveled at media speed and more curious mob arrived.

"What does this mean, O'Neill?", the big man asked, knowing that his CO knew him well enough to see beyond his simple question and supply him with what he needed to know.

Teal'c knew that Jack was a man with profound knowledge of the military world on this planet, and that made him the best to know how that part would react to this news. He would know how the military mind would think.

"The end" O'Neill simply answered.

Because he knew what Teal'c was really asking. And because he did know how the military mind worked, having been that mind for so many times.

Every country on Earth, no matter how poor it was, had its army, its defense line, its own military mind. And all of them would want a piece of the Stargate cake, because all of them would be smart enough to realize that this truly was everyone's chance 'to boldly go where no one has gone before', or in less philosophical terms, a mean of great power to whoever holds it.

Like the hydrogen bomb had been.

Then, sooner or later, they would come to the conclusion that not all of them could have a piece of this particular cake, and then, like spoiled brats, they would decide that no one should have it. Because if one country couldn't have access to it, then his neighbor shouldn't either.

Verbal fights between countries... threats... violence... war...

The end.

No more travel through the Stargate, no more defending Earth from the Goa'uld...

Kaputte.

If the Goa'uld didn't destroyed Earth in the mean time, Earth would be destroyed by its selfish inhabitants.

Finito.

Or, maybe he was just being a little too melodramatic... playing the pessimist and that sort of thing... Anyway, of one thing he was sure... SGC and its exploring units as they all knew them were condemned to extinction.

"Whoever's behind the scheme to pull Stargate's plug must be really happy by now!", Jack finally sneered.

"Who's very happy?" Sam asked, catching the tail of the talk as she came in.

The young Major had asked the older woman to show her the garden, and, once Mrs. Orson realized that they shared the same passion for plants and flowers, they had gone outside and only came back when the sun had begun to fade. Or at least, Sam did.

The team felt like they were wasting precious time, standing around doing nothing, looking at plants and TV sets, but all of them also knew that there wasn't much they could do until Daniel was better and told them what had happen... this is, if he himself knew. If he didn't, then they were in deep shit. Like SGC.

"The persons behind the plot to end Stargate secrecy" Teal'c answered her.

"Stargate's becoming general knowledge even as we speak" the Colonel informed her.

"What?!"

The young woman couldn't believe what she was hearing. Of course she knew things were bad for SGC's side, and of course she knew it was going to be really hard to by-pass this particularly tricky situation, but it had never crossed her mind that things could go so far, so fast and be so bad.

"It's exactly what you heard Major... the President authorized a group of outsiders to go inside the mountain and play around... game over!"

"Holy Hannah!", she let out, finding a seat to herself beside the Colonel. "How could this be? We're talking about a top secret military facility here... there are thousands of secret bases where no unauthorized personal is allowed inside, all over the country, and no one has ever tried to barge in like this!"

"Well, ours is authorized now"

"How?... I mean, the President could've denied authorization... heck, he should've denied authorization!", the Major let out, furious about this no-win situation.

"Yeah... well, I guess someone pushed his right buttons... besides, it's almost election time", Jack said, shrugging his shoulders, experience allowing him the calm not to be pulling his hair out over something he was in no way able to change.

Carter, however, had a murderous look on her face that somehow told him that this President wasn't getting her vote anymore.

Mary arrived to her living room just in time to catch the statements on their faces. "What happened?", she asked to no one in particular, while taking off her gardening gloves. Every time she went to the garden, she couldn't help herself from doing something here, a little thing there. Stir around a bit.

Before anyone could answer her question, all of them clearly heard the carpet-muffled thud sound that arrived from the hallway.

"Daniel" Jack simply stated, quickly on his feet and out the door before anyone else.

A few feet away from the room Mary had arranged for the young man, O'Neill found his friend, all four on the ground, as if his body wasn't sure whether to fall or not.

Rushing to his side, the rest of the group right behind him, the Colonel got to his knees too, ready to support the younger man and get him back up.

Still a little more than lost on the where and who of his present situation, Daniel just took Jack for one of the aids in Lazarus, and started trashing out as hard as he could.

"Hey, hey!... Easy there!", Jack tried to hush him, while he and Teal'c carefully grabbed Daniel's hands and feet, keeping him from using them as punching bags.

The feeling of strong hands holding him down only made things worse.

"It's us Dan..."

The Colonel couldn't finish his sentence, as one of Daniel's arms escaped its restrain and a fist landed hard and square on the older man's face, sending him flying backwards, to land on his ass.

The pain of the impact made Daniel stop his trashing and, for the first time, 'really' open his eyes, realizing that not only was he no longer in any part of Lazarus he knew, but also that he was surrounded by his friends.

"Teal'c?!... Sam?!" he said, looking at them, still not very sure they were real or not.

The big alien nodded smiling, in that solemn way of his that at the same time said 'hello' and 'I'm extremely happy to see you well'.

"Yeah Daniel... it's us" Sam said.

Before she could even finish, her precarious crouched balance was lost when she found herself with an arm full of Daniel, almost lost in the large, borrowed pajama.

"It's really you..." he mumbled, his mouth deeply imbedded on his partners shoulder, muffling his emotion filled speech, as he hugged her with a life gripping strength. "I can't believe it's really you guys..."

Sam, a little taken aback by this raw feeling exposure from her usually shy and quiet friend, had no idea on what to do or say to him, except for hugging him back, with equal feeling. She had missed him. He was safe now. And it felt right to feel him near her. Safe.

A couple of seconds after, Daniel pulled back, looking for the yet to see, missing friend.

Jack.

"Jack?!", he said, finally spotting his friend, right in front of him, both of his hands nursing a bruised nose.

"Good to see you too Danny... this your way of telling me that boxing lessons are paying off?", the Colonel sarcastically said, his hand-covered nose making his voice sound funny.

"Sorry", the young man said sheepishly, realizing what it was he had felt collide with his fist. Still, he couldn't help but smile, as the feeling of safety swiped over him, making him fell warm inside. "Where are we?" he asked, sensing that he had missed part of the movie.

"My house" Mary's voice said, from behind him, startling the jumpy man. "Sorry... didn't meant to scare you..."

Daniel looked around again, still confused by the fact that one minute he was in Lazarus, with no chance of ever leaving, and the next in was inside the house of a Lazarus employee, surrounded by SG1.

"How did I get in here?"

"You don't remember?", Jack asked, needing to know how much of what had happened the young man had managed to grasp.

"Not really... it's all a bit fuzzy up here" Daniel quietly said, pointing to his head.

"I'll bet" Jack said, offering him a hand to stand up.

Daniel took it and the rest of the arm too, as his still spaghetti legs weren't that successful in supporting him to the living room, a few feet away.

Letting himself land on top of the soft looking couch, Daniel dropped his head back, as it felt heavier than a whale on the top of his neck.

"Big headache?" Jack asked, the playful tone of his voice doing little to hide the worry underneath.

"Humongous"

"Want something for that?" Mary quietly asked.

"No!" Daniel almost shouted, straightening his head in a quick and nervous motion, as his eyes snapped wide open. "Sorry", he said almost immediately, realizing he had overreacted.

His reaction, however, had not passed unnoticed to the rest of people inside the room.

Mary flinched away and downcast her eyes once again.

And Jack's hands turned into fists.

If the slight mention of an innocent headache-killer medication had resulted in that sort of attitude on his friend, he could only imagine what rotten acts were behind it. Even though Jack had never liked physics that much, there was one thing he had never forgotten: every action has its reaction. And this was Daniel's reaction on what happened to him on that week in hell.

Even though having the details of that particular experience was not on his top list of favorite things to have, as much as sharing his personnel experiences in the Iraq prison was on his list of things to do, Jack knew his friend would have to chase his demons away before they consumed him from within. And the sooner the better.

Starting to feel like a bug under the microscope, Daniel felt a nervous urge to rapidly change the topic of the conversation. Straightening a no longer existent strand of hair behind his right ear and folding his arms across his chest, like he always did when he wasn't exactly comfortable with a particular situation, Daniel tried to take a normal stance.

"So, how did you guys managed to find me anyway?", he asked again.

His friends had learned, with time, how to read almost all of Daniel's body language. And this particular set of signs were pretty easy to understand. He knew he wasn't all right, he knew that they had figured that, but he really wasn't up to go there yet. Tactfully, the rest of SG1 tried to act as normal as possible too.

"Mary called us... well, me actually" Jack supplied.

Daniel looked at the silent woman. "How?" he asked, hurt and confusion mingling in his face. The last thing he remembered about her was how she had stood by the medic's side while he was taken to... to that room.

The nurse looked at him, her eyes storming with heavy tears. "You left your friend's phone number on that paper... I called him"

"Why?"

Mary took a deep breath. She had been asking that exact same question in her head, over and over again. Deep down, she had known the answer all the way.

"Because I realized how stupid I had been, because I wanted to help you... I had wanted to do so since the first time you asked me Daniel, but I couldn't... I just couldn't... not alone... I'm so sorry about all that happen, so sorry... only sorry won't change a thing... you have every right to hate me..." the woman said, broken heartily, her speech fast and stumbled with emotion.

Daniel looked at the woman with totally different eyes. The image of the deceiving and cold person he had clouding his view of her was now slowly dissipating and allowing him reassess to the memories of Mary, the only person in that place that had treated him like a human being and that, he realized now, had helped him all along, in every single small way that she could.

"Thank you" he softly said to her.

Still lost in her own grief, Mary had barely noticed that he had spoken to her. She was ready to take in his anger... not his forgiveness. "What?!"

"Thank you... I wouldn't had survived Lazarus and I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you"

The older woman blinked her wet eyelashes, and grabbed Daniel's hands, holding them in hers, tightly, the way she had done before. "No... thank you" she finally said, leaving no room for denials, still leaving so much unsaid.

Jack's almost theatrical cough broke the moment. "Your turn" he said when Daniel turned to look at him.

"Hum?"

"What happened in Washington? An why the hell did you disappear on us like that?" Jack asked, trying to sound as angry as he could, given the circumstances.

A tiny lamp blink into existence on Daniel's head. "Simmons! Simmons is dead!" he blurted out, as all that had happened came back like a single flash to his mind, all the memories demanding his attention at the same time.

"We know that part Danny" Jack said, trying to calm down the distress young man. "His bo... he was found a day after you disappeared, on the car we'd rented" Sam told him, choosing to leave out the gross parts and details.

"You saw this happen?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel nodded and told them all he had seen and heard, carefully enough not to mention anything classified in front of the Mary.

When he finished, three stunned faces were looking at him. Graham betraying SGC? It seemed almost as unreal as Daniel himself doing so.... but still, there was no denying what Daniel had seen.

"And after that?" Sam asked, still a little more than stunned by the whole idea.

"Do you remember arriving at Lazarus?"

"Don't think so... after the french guy hit me it's all fuzzy pieces and scattered bits of hours, or days... I really don't know..." Daniel said, closing his eyes, trying to filter all the images that were coming to his head, seeing what sense he could make of them, but failing miserably, as those memories were like dream images, vanished when you open your eyes. The last memories he had from Lazarus, however, were more than clear in his mind, as they by-passed all rest and came to front.

Daniel opened his yes suddenly, no longer safe behind his own eyelids. "What about you? Have you guys found anything?", he asked, after taking a deep breath.

Jack looked at Sam and both gazed Mary, embarrassed.

"I know, I know... I'll go wash my hands... long and carefully" the woman said lightheartedly, playing with the gardening gloves as she left.

"So?" Daniel asked, his headache doing nothing to slow down his curiosity.

The trio in front of him told him all that had happened since he had disappeared, from him being blamed for Grahams death, passing by Mary's description of how he had arrived to Lazarus and ending up with the most recent events, the SGC premiere on the night news.

Beside a gasped double take on the part of being wanted by the police for murder and a wide look about the Stargate's imminent lost of secrecy, Daniel was motionless. Speechless. Completely stunned.

"It was all just a big set up!", he finally whispered.

"I think it was more a question of seizing the moment... those guys who killed Graham must've realized that their source had been discovered, so they, or whoever's behind them..."

"The LaMarq dude" Jack supplied.

"Right... anyway, they saw in you the perfect scapegoat for everything... by blaming Graham's death on you, you became SGC's leak, and they can walk free, spotless, to do what ever their plan is" Sam theorized.

"Right... and since a live scapegoat is better than a dead one, they just stuffed me in that place" Daniel absently said, arriving to the same conclusion that his teammates had, trying very hard not to think too much about the fact that he was the said goat.

"Exactly... now, the real question here is what would this LaMarq gain by blowing SGC's cover? I mean, what's in it for him?" Sam asked.

"When we discover more about this person, we will know the answer to your question, Major Carter" Teal'c said.

"And how're we gonna do that?"

"I think I know how" Sam said, getting up and going after Mary.

From the living room, the rest of the guys could hear their teammate's idea. "Mary, do you have a computer?"

"Yes"

"Are you connected to the net?"

"The net?" Jack asked, as his head made its appearance on the door of the living room.

"Yes sir... maybe we'll find something about LaMarq there"

"You aren't expecting the guy to have a home page where he confesses all his crimes, are you Major?"

Half of her brain already on what she had to do to, Sam was about to answer her CO's sarcastic question, when she noticed the smirk on his face. "No, but I can get into the FBI, CIA and Interpol files and find out if they have something on this guy" she said, with a smirk of her own.

"Get into?" Jack asked suspiciously, knowing that those weren't your average files for consulting... those were Fort Knox guarded files! "Just how are you gonna do that?"

Sam looked at him like a cat caught in the garbage can, getting a bit red around the corners. "You don't want to know sir", she said, making a hasty retreat after Mary, towards the woman's bedroom, where the computer was.

"How the hell is she going to get into those files?" Jack asked to no one in particular, as he returned to seat himself beside Daniel on the couch.

"Hacking" Daniel supplied him.

"Hacking?" Jack asked, beginning to feel like a parrot.

"Yeah, Sam's the best... she can get anywhere, just like that" the young man said, snapping his fingers.

Jack looked at his teammate like he had just turned into a giant bunny rabbit, big teeth and all. The Major 'all by the book' Carter doing something totally illegal? And with experience enough to be good at it?

"Close your mouth, Jack... Sam's got much more talents than you know of"

The older man looked, if possible, even more surprised. Daniel had said that with such a knowing face that Jack's mind started to trail off towards other paths. His friend noticed that.

"Ah!... don't go there... I said that in the most respectful possible way... so don't let that slimy mind of yours get all busy", he said, with a grin on his face.

Teal'c stood aside, watching in silent study his two earth friends, the usual bickering going back and forward between them. Jack was grinning too now, although the lines of worry still lurked between his eyebrows.

He, as the rest of the team, knew the young man was trying to forget all that had happened in the past days, trying to act as normal as possible. They also knew that to ignore the problem was not the best way to deal with it and that someone would have to talk with Daniel. And if Daniel were ever going to talk with anyone, that anyone would be O'Neill.

Like he had heard one of his Tau'ri friends once say 'there is no better time than this time'. It seemed appropriate. "I will see to this area security" Teal'c announced, getting up and heading for the front door, leaving his two friends alone.

Jack realized what the big Jaffa was doing, and silently thanked him for it.

Although the looks exchange had gone amiss by Daniel, he too realized what they were doing as he caught their plan.

SG1's number 8 tactic to make him talk. Not one of the worst, seeing that first seven involved getting him drunk in multiple ways. At least this one didn't include the mother of hangovers the next day.

Sighing, Daniel prepared himself for Jack's 'attack'.

"Sooo... How're you feeling?" the man asked, as casually as possible.

"Good" Daniel said, not really in the mood to make Jack's 'work' the tiniest bit easier.

Closing his yet tired eyes, Daniel's hand unconsciously went to the bridge of his nose, two fingers mechanically massaging the sore point.

"Sure you don't want something for that headache?" Jack ventured.

Daniel's eyes snapped open, the blue orbs taking their time to focus on the man seated in front of him. "No" he finally said, calmer this time, before closing his eyes again.

Instead of taking the hint behind that final sounding word, Jack remained looking at his friend.

"What?" Daniel finally asked, feeling unease under the intense unseen gaze.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jack bluntly asked.

Smooth talk was never his thing, no point in trying to disguise it now... besides, bluntness sometimes worked.

"Nothing to talk about" Daniel flatly said, his closed eyes intend on making Jack feel ignored enough to give up.

Still, Daniel could fell Jack's gaze burn upon him.

He sighed. "Look, I don't remember much... and the little I do remember... I just want to forget", Daniel finally said, unable to avoid Jack's silence anymore.

"And the marks on your head?" Jack asked, knowing he was pushing it, but self experience had taught him that this sort of things were best dealt with when fresh.

Daniel pulled his legs up and squeezed his arms around them. "What marks?" he asked, one of his hands going involuntary searching for the burns in his flesh. The young man flinched when his finger brushed against one of them.

"Those marks," Jack said.

The look Daniel threw the Colonel's way could be classified as a lethal weapon, so sharp it was. Then, out of the blue, it soften, as the images of the yellow room returned from where he had push them away, and sharp became haunted.

All came back. The smells. The sounds. The feelings. The helplessness of being nothing under the microscope. The fear.

Jack stood there, as he watched his friend slipping away from this reality in to his memories, each step turning his face whiter at an amazing speed. Not so sure he was doing the right thing and afraid that he had gone too far too soon, Jack grabbed the other man's arm, trying to keep him in this reality, where he was safe.

"Danny... it's ok" he tried to smooth him.

"Let me go!" Daniel shouted, the same frightened look Jack had seen before on the hallway once again on his friend's face.

Yanking his arm free, Daniel curled himself into a tiny ball, smaller than before, if possible, his face hidden from the world as he pressed it against his knees.

Charlie did the same thing when he was scared.

Jack really didn't know what to do, what to say, how to act. He just didn't had the courage left to press his friend anymore, as he wasn't sure he had the needed strength to take his friend away from the pain he was digging up.

"You already know what this marks are" Daniel whispered after awhile.

Jack looked at him, surprised. He had thought the talk was over for the day, the matter too raw to be stirred yet. But still, knowing Daniel like he did, he should've guessed that wouldn't have stopped his friend.

"Yeah... Mary told us" Jack admitted, " but I need you to say it".

Meet Jack, your attending psychologist for the day.

"Why?"

"Trust me" he simply said, knowing that he was playing as low as he could.

He knew Daniel trusted him and, even though Daniel knew that too, deep inside, he would always feel compelled to assure Jack of that trust, even if that meant talking about this matter. Or so he hoped.

"Jack... I really don't wonna talk about this right now" the young man said, frustrating all of Jack's efforts as he put his feet back on the floor and stood up to leave.

"Daniel..." Jack didn't moved, trusting his tone of voice to stop his friend.

The single name, thrown in to the air, looking small but meaning so much, with the strength of an entire speech. Daniel... don't go. Daniel... I know what you're trying to do, I've been there too. Daniel... running away is not the answer... to anything.

Without any control over his own brain, Jack let his thoughts travel back to a time of his life that he too had tried very hard to erase from his memories.

Iraq.

He knew the situation here wasn't the same, but he could help but to see the similarities.

Daniel had been committed against his will in a mental institution that had far less then none respect for the people there...

....he had been a prisoner in enemy territory, in a place with no respect for basic human rights, where Auschwitz was role model and 'fuck Geneva convention' was one of the first commandments.

Daniel had spent more than a week with no other human contact other than Mary, locked in an isolated room, being pumped full of drugs that left him in some dark horizon between here and nowhere...

....drugs had been one of the softest things his captors had used to make him talk, or just have some fun, whatever came first.

Daniel had been forced to undertake a brutal, painful, cruel and senseless 'treatment', with no reason what so ever to exist or be performed other that the people doing it... wanted... had fun with it... were triggered by the power of inflicting it on other human, had the power to cause pain... ....he... well, he wasn't even going to think about it.

The major difference between them was that, although Jack had been through worse, he was a military. He was trained to undertake such experiences... he had the theory to support him through the notion that human beings can be the cruelest things to walk the planet, and that sometimes you just happen to be unlucky or dumb enough to be in their path.

Bottom line... he knew what was going on inside his friend's head, because traumatic experiences always had something in common. They all left scars.

He knew what it was like to face your family and friends and try as hard as you could to pretend that nothing had happen... that life was as bright as ever. Only it wasn't. Never again.

Daniel had given up on trying to escape this conversation. He knew Jack was right, and he knew Jack understood feelings he hadn't even begun to understand himself. Sighing again, he snuggled in to the big pajama and sunk deeper in to the couch.

"Now tell me, Daniel... what happened?"

Taking a deep breath, like the brat that prepares to tell his father why the front window of the sweet old lady that lives up front is now broken, Daniel downcast his eyes and braced himself to open his heart.

"Most of the memories I got are fuzzy... like pieces of a feverish dream. Mostly feelings... feeling of having no control over myself and what happens... feeling of being treated like a rotten piece of meat... feeling of being naked in front of strangers, not being able to hide the most private parts of my soul... feeling helpless about what comes next, not remembering what was before, with nothing more to hope for than the dark and silence, where your mind can wander free and you can dream yourself out of that place..." Daniel started, trying to keep his voice from wavering with the fresh memories he was digging up.

Jack moved closer to him, not daring to interrupt him now that he had started, but wanting to be sure that his friend could feel safe enough to go on.

"Then, some other parts I remember all too well... the drugs they kept forcing on me... the anger of not being able to prove them that I wasn't that Johnny they kept calling me... the fear of not being able to prove it, to prove that I was Daniel and that Daniel wasn't crazy... the humiliation of being... of being treated with no sort of respect for privacy, like... like you're nothing more than an emotionless ID number.." he said, slumbering into the couch, looking like he wanted to disappear deep into it.

This was being even harder than he had thought. It was like living it all again. But he wasn't giving up now.

Rubbing the tiredness out of his face with his hands, Daniel ended up letting his fingers brush by the soft spots of tender flesh on the sides of his head.

"Dr. James" he said, not looking at Jack "my supposed 'doctor' in that place... we had a conversation and it... didn't go well and I ended up in this room where they... there was this machine that..."

Daniel was babbling, he knew it, but the damn words just wouldn't come out straight.

"It's ok, Daniel... just take your time" Jack said, seeing how upset the young man was. The frightened and flinching look on Daniel's face made him want to drop the matter right there and then and just give his friend the room and peace to forget everything. Only he knew things wouldn't work that way. So he couldn't. And neither could Daniel.

"At first I didn't even realize what it was for... and when I did, they were already hol... holding me to that cold table and I ... I couldn't move... or talk... I wanted to... to..." he started again, the words tumbling out of his mouth with no apparent order, in a linguistic chaos. "... shocks... the marks on my head are from... el.. electric shocks" he said, finishing in a whisper as the emotions that sentence had released drowned his voice.

It hurt. It had hurt then and it hurt now. It hurt a lot to admit it aloud, to say it with all the words, to place a name on the demons and ghosts. But they were out now.

It had taken O'Neill three months and a lot of counseling for him to say four simple words like 'I've been tortured'. Daniel had taken fifteen minutes. Jack was proud.

When Mary came back to her living room to let them know that Sam was on to something, she found the tough looking Colonel shouldering a sobbing young man, his hands smoothing the tremble back as he whispered that all would be better now.

Daniel possessed the inner strength of a war tank, that much Jack more than knew, the same way he knew that all the fragility that his friend was now allowing him to see was, in part, due to the after effects of the drugs he had been forced in to, and in part due the experience itself. Soon, Jack was sure of it, Daniel would be able to put it all behind and move on to be the same brick wall that he always knew, all behind that 'all's fine with me' front that he'd always had.

But, in the mean time, while the barriers were still down, it helped Jack smooth the worry he had to deal with in the past days to be here, like this, with his young friend beneath his protective wing, mother hen mode on.

Jack had already been Daniel's rafter before, like Daniel had been his several other times, every time one of them needed... and now, he was more than whiling to do it again, if Daniel let him to.

Passing him the glass of water and the Kleenex box Mary had handed him, Jack took an appraising look at his friend. "Better?"

Daniel finished blowing his nose, stalling while he checked everything back in to control, and only then looked at the two faces in front of him. A sudden flash of his parents, long time ago, when he had broken his left arm, bearing the exact same look on their faces that Jack and Mary had right now, made him smile.

" I will be", he assured them.

"I know you will" Jack said, patting him on the shoulder, " So... let's go find out what Carter is up to?"

The computer partially lit the dim lighted room, the entire right side of its screen covered by a color picture of a man in his early sixties, fine cared mustache and intelligent looking dark eyes.

His file, property of the International Criminal Police, was displayed over the left side, white letters against black screen.

"Meet Jean Gilbert LaMarq" Sam proudly said, understanding now why Mary had taken so long to call them, as she saw Daniel's red, puffy eyes.

"You sure that's the guy?" Jack asked, nearing the screen to read the man's file.

"Positive"

"How did you find him?" Daniel asked, installing himself at the bed's feet, in front of the computer.

"Well, I started by doing a double check on people named LaMarq... got quite a list there... then, I crossed the name with their bank accounts..."

"Bank accounts?!" Jack asked, eyeing his teammate suspiciously. As her face turned red, he thought it was best if he didn't know how she had done that.

"Why the bank accounts?" Daniel asked, oblivious to the looks exchange between his two friends.

"Hum... well, I thought that if this is the man behind all this scheme, he had to have the money to make things happen... anyway, from there, it was just a matter of crossing those names with the FBI and Interpol files and see what came out" she explained, not even daring to look at her CO again, as she knew what face would be there, and she would only get red again.

He, however, wasn't letting her off the hook. "FBI?! Interpol?!" he asked again, no longer that surprised, but just having a bit fun with her now.

Throwing him a murderer look, she kept on explaining. "Anyway... from there I got five names, and then it was just a matter of seeing who was more likely to be our LaMarq"

"Right... but why this guy? What's so special about him?" Daniel asked.

"Because of this" she said, clicking on a second window to reveal a web site.

"A site?"

"The LaMarq Co. site, to be exact... this is the part dedicated to his travel agency... it seems that LaMarq prides himself for having organized trips for the most exotic places in the world... Antarctica..."

"Been there... too cold" Jack said, sticking his tongue out in a childish way, at the thought of the place.

"... Bermuda's Triangle..."

"Never liked geometry" Jack couldn't help himself.

"...and that sort of places... one of his latest trips to a desert island didn't go too well... a hundred and fifty dead people got him in the Interpol's list of 'keep an eye at', even though nothing was proved against the LaMarq Corporation at the time. Anyway, this was what I found really interesting", she said, moving forward on the page.

Daniel got closer so he could see too.

In big, bright letters, the travel agency announced it's latest packaged. "Looking for the journey of your life? The ultimate rush? LaMarq Co. continues its lead in taking you where you always wanted to go and way beyond. Step forward in to the future and take our offer of changing the ways of travel, as the sky WAS our limit..." Jack read, his mouth dropping when he linked what he was reading to the background picture that decorated the page... suspiciously looking like earth's gate's chevron!

"Tell me he isn't..."

"He is sir... look at the update time of these page"

"Today!?"

"The same day SGC goes public!" Daniel concluded, connecting the dots.

"Exactly!... This must be what he wanted all along... by making the Stargate Program a public matter and offering himself first hand to explore it, he has pretty good changes of pulling it off..."

"Damn!" Jack let out.

"Specially if he has someone helping him from inside our government" Daniel thought loud.

"How come?" Sam asked.

"Well, don't you find it odd that the timing of this page update and the President's order are so perfect? I mean, for a guy with this sort of power, he wouldn't risk putting something like this on the net before having some sort of guarantee, right?"

"He's right sir... this LaMarq must have an inside accomplice, in a powerful seat"

"Double damn!"

*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*

Teal'c hadn't had many chances of seeing the Tau'ri world on his own. Their work, their mission were too important for him to go around sight seeing, so, apart from the outside of his teammates homes and the few on-world missions that SG1 had to deal in the past (the past included), he had seen little more.

Now, on his private mission to keep his friends safe, he had his chance of 'taking a look around', like the Tau'ri would've said.

The small town, bubbling with activity and life during the day, looked almost deserted at this hour. Apart from some dogs and cats, scrabbling along the trashcans, little was to be seen. Houses were all very similar to each other, all with their little gardens, some up front, some in the back, but all with the same peacefulness that entered everyone's heart.

As Teal'c passed by, he could see the lights on on most of the dwellings, as quiet people lead on their quiet lives, blessed with the ignorance of not knowing the dangers and enemies that lurked and plotted to menace their peace. In a way, the quiet and peaceful little town reminded him of his home place, before Chulack. He had grown up in a quiet and familiar looking settlement too, blissfully away from the system lord’s quarrels and Goa'uld influence... until the day Chronos and his madness took his father away from him.

Looking down the street he had come from, Teal'c figured that his surveillance had already covered most of the town by now and, with that, he decided to start making his way back to Mary's home, not wanting to be absent for too long.

Judging on what he had seen of the place, Teal'c figured that if he turned on the next corner he would cut some considerable distance on returning and would be able to arrive faster. Satisfied that he had found nothing that would compromise his friends' safety, especially now that they had been successful in retrieving Daniel Jackson, Teal'c cast one last look back and, turning the corner, crossed the street.

*'*'*

Ben Hays hated when he had to take the garbage out in the middle of a game, but, it was either that or hearing his wife, Selma, mumbling the rest of the game about his lack of cooperation inside the house. Damn the feminists and their stupid ideas about sharing house tasks.

As he closed the trashcan, Ben noticed the young black man across the street, looking around, like he was searching for something. He had never seen him there before, and, since Ben knew everyone around there, the large man with a baseball cap at that time of the night caught his attention.

With his almost seventy years, Ben had little to do during his days besides playing some chess with his old buddies and watching sports on TV. His life had lost all the excitement of the old days, when he was a Sergeant in the Army, so, now, in order to get some of those old feelings back, Ben had kind of taken upon him the job of securing the neighborhood. Not that violence showed much of its ugly face around there, but nowadays you could never be too safe. And damn him, that black man looked suspicious!

Just as the stranger was going to cross the street, the loud sound of screaming, burning tires in a high speeding car made Ben and the stranger look in its direction. Completely caught by surprise, the car hit the black man, sending him flying away, until he landed on the hard asphalt a few feet away with a bone braking thud.

Without even touching the brakes, the black sedan's driver speeded away, disappearing on the next corner.

Too stunned to do anything, Ben stood in front of his house with the trash can lid still in his hands, his mouth turned in to jelly.

As the curious heads started to show in various windows, Ben recovered some of his movement’s back, enough to go to the hit man's side and check him, while shouting Selma to call 911.

Carefully nearing the unconscious man, the former Sergeant could feel the steak he had ate for dinner rebel in his stomach, as he saw the unnatural angle of the man's right arm and the depression on his chest caused by, no doubt, some seriously broken ribs. Behind the man's head, a small pool of blood had already started to form, changing the tilted hat's color from gray to red, allowing the street lights to shine on the man's strange tattoo.

'Damn gangs!' Ben thought to himself, as he felt for a pulse, surprised to find an incredibly strong one, given the man's ghostly appearance. "Better call the cops too, Selma!" he shouted to his wife above the sound of the already gathered crowd.

*'*'*

"Bon sang! Tu pourrais pas faire attention?" // Damn it! Can't you be careful? \\ the man beside the sedan's driver shouted, casting a quick look behind.

Whoever they had hit was on the ground, unmoving.

"Je l'avais pas vu, OK?... Cet idiot a traversé juste devant moi!" // I didn't saw him, ok?... Stupid guy crossed right in front of me! \\ the driver cursed, not even looking back as he turned the corner and killed the car's lights before nearing their destination. "C'est la bonne adresse, hein?" // This is the right address, right? \\

"Oui" // Yes \\

"Allons-y alors!" // Let's move out then! \\ one of the men in the back seat said, opening the door of the car.

Taking advantage of the shadows that surrounded the place, the four men in black left the car and moved towards Mary Orson's house.

*'*'*

"So... what do we do now?" Daniel asked, his face whiter as he realized the implications of what they had just discovered.

"Now, we call Hammond" Jack said, deep in thought.

"General Hammond?!... But I thought you..." Sam started, surprised to hear her CO suggest that, considering what he had shared with her and Teal'c just the day before.

"Yeah, I know what I said... but I never said I didn't trust him... besides, if this shit moves into political ground, he's the best to move there... he's the one with the knowledge, the contacts, the friends, whatever..." he said, explaining his plan. Inside, he knew this was their best chance of really knowing if someone was dictating Hammond's moves. If they had to ask someone's help, it had to be the General's.

Daniel didn't have a clue on what they were talking about, but wasn't really caring as bigger things crossed his mind. "I doubt he'll be able to do anything by now... it's already too late for SGC", he said, a defeated sound on his voice that didn't sounded right coming from him.

"Maybe... but we have to try" O'Neill said, moving to pick Mary's phone from the bedside stand. Picking the receiver up, Jack's ear wasn't rewarded by the usual dialing tone. "Phone's dead" he said, after a couple of more tries.

"It was fine yest..." Mary started, surprised by the news, but stopping as the computer's light went off too, plunging the room in to darkness.

"Power's been cut" Sam concluded, as she went to the light switch and realized it wasn't working either.

Coming to the same conclusion that this was no coincidence, twin thoughts of regret for not having their side arms with them crossed the two military minds. Unfortunately, between all of them not even a toothpick could be accounted for.

"What's going on?" Mary's frightened voice sounded in the dark room.

"Mary... do you have any sort of weapon inside the house?" Jack asked her, keeping his tone of voice as controlled as possible, while deep inside he cursed their lack of luck, as not even the room's windows were big enough for them to pass.

Before the woman could give any sort of answer, the loud crash of the front door made her jump in thin air, a small muffled cry escaping her lips.

Inside the room, the four of them could hear the rapid sound of people moving inside the house, the soft ruffle of clothes and boots marching through all rooms in a flash speed search.

Before they could even think about leaving the room and try their chance outside, a black boot collided with the door and something came rolling inside the room, immediately filling it with an unpleasant smell.

"Tear gas!" Sam shouted, covering her nose and mouth.

"Out! Out!" Jack ordered, realizing that they had no other choice. Grabbing the first piece of person his hands brushed on, Jack jumped out of the gas filled room and came crashing against the wall in the dark hallway.

By the grunt that escaped the other's persons mouth, as both of them collided with the hard wall, Jack realized he had dragged Sam outside, to place her right between two masked men, their automatics already trained on both of their heads.

Their teary eyes didn't allow them to see much, the world looking like in reversed, a Polaroid negative that turned the men with their gas-mask covered faces into strange looking aliens, giant ants with long guns.

With a frightening speed, two other men bounded and gagged the two Air Force officers, while a third one went inside the room were Daniel and Mary still were, all of them moving around the house and them with a military and day light precision's.

Feeling like he was under water and going deeper, Jack still tried to take notice of what happen inside the room, but with the surrounding darkness he could do little more than listen as Mary screamed, her voice sounding distant and distorted, hear Daniel cough something between words and, just as his brain was starting to turn itself off, hear what he had dreaded the most.

A gun shot.

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

"Clear the way! Coming through!" the front paramedic shouted as she entered St. Bernard’s emergency.

"What you got?" one of the medics, old acquaintance of her team, asked as they all run beside the speeding gurney, towards one of the trauma rooms.

"Running over victim... Black male, thirty-ish, no ID... head and radius trauma, thoracic depression with probable internal damage..." she automatically went on with the long list her and her team had access on the accident location.

"Vitals?"

"90 over 50, pulse 70 plus"

"Ok, everyone... on 3" the medic said as he positioned himself on the head of the patient, two others already waiting for his counting to pass the black man from the gurney to the trauma room’s table.

"Let’s get him stable so we can send him up to surgery... I want blood pro..." the doctor’s voice went on inside the now closed doors, as the paramedic team left, their job done for now.

Ten minutes later, the medic that had been attending to that particular patient, left the room too, his face perplexed.

Looking around, he spotted the paramedic that had brought the victim in, taking one last smoke of her cigarette, just outside the hospital’s automatic doors, savoring the last minutes of a short break.

"Can I talk with you for a second?" he asked, pulling a cigar for himself.

"Sure", she said, erasing hers on the damp floor, giving him full attention.

"You know, that last man you guys brought in?"

"Yeah... wha’ra about him?"

"Hum... did you guys found anything weird about the place he was found... or about him?"

The woman looked at a distant point, concentrating to remember the details of that particular call.

"Nope, I don’t think so... well, there’s that head tattoo of his, but I’ve seen weirder", she said, the smile on her lips awakening small wrinkles around her clear eyes. "Why?"

"Nothing special" the medic said, not meeting her eyes.

Unfortunately, she already knew him a bit too much for that, enough to know that he wouldn’t come all this way after her just for ‘nothing’.

"What happen? Didn’t the guy make it?"

"Actually... he’s doing better than us" he said.

The woman laughed.

"You’re kidding... right?"

"No, I’m not... there’s nothing on him... from the head trauma we had only the blood to prove it... the arm’s and chest x-ray’s revealed nothing... I’m telling you.. there’s not a serious scratch on that man" the stunned man said.

"Tha... that’s impossible!"

"Impossible, yeah... he looks like someone who fell off a chair, not like someone who got hit by a car!"

"But we saw the wounds... I’m sure that..." the woman said, completely lost, mentally revising the evaluation she had made in the accidents scene.

"Maybe he’s a lucky guy?" the medic said, not giving his own theory much credit.

The paramedic shook her head.

The wounds had been real, she was sure of it.

"There’s something else" the medic said, his voice getting lower, more like a whisper in her ear.

The woman raised her eyes to him, wondering what else could be stranger than what he had told her for him to be acting like that.

"His abdomen... there’s an X across it"

"X?... Another tattoo?"

"Not a tattoo... it’s cut deep in to his flesh, the borders healed like something I’ve never seen before" he said, anxiously looking at her, trying to seen if she wasn’t starting to think he had gone nuts.

"Ok... I think that tops the weirdest on my list... what do you think its is?"

"I have absolutely no idea"

"Did the x-ray showed anything abnormal there?"

"We couldn’t see a thing... the rays couldn’t get through his abdomen, like he had some sort of protection on"

"And had he?"

"No... nothing. I have absolutely no idea what could’ve cause the blank spot on his abdomen"

"Weirder and weirder... so, what are you gonna do about him?"

"Don’t know either... I’ve put him on a room, alone, for now... but I guess I’ll have to talk to my chief about this... you’re sure there was nothing strange about the circumstances you found him, right?"

"Sorry... It was your everyday call, to your everyday hit and run accident" she said with a shoulder shrug.

"Ok... thanks anyway" he said, waving a ‘see you soon’ to her and going back inside.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

One of Master Bra’tac’s first lessons that had always remained deeply engraved inside Teal’c’s memory, was that one should try to know more about the enemy than the enemy about you.

Teal’c’s senses started to slowly jerk awake, one by one alerting him that something was wrong.

Wisely giving his brain time to regroup itself, the former Jaffa tried to remain as quiet as he had been before, preventing anyone that might be near him to know the laying man was no longer unconscious, until Teal’c could know if he was among friends or foes.

Concentrating on his other senses and leaving his sight out for now, Teal’c noticed that the smells and sounds that surrounded him were vaguely familiar, reminding him of Dr. Frasier’s infirmary, although the possibility of him being on SGC’s quarters seemed to him highly unlikely.

Then, he remembered the car.

Bright lights moving straight to him, the pain and the blackness that followed.

Doing an internal check of his body, the alien man noticed that his Goa’uld larvae, ‘Junior’ as O’Neill had baptized it, had already healed most of the damage, which meant that, where ever he was, he had been there for awhile.

Having heard no other breathing besides his, Teal’c ventured to open his eyes, looking around to confirm that he was indeed alone in the unfamiliar room.

It appeared to be an infirmary of some sorts, as the similarities between this and the one he was familiar with, in SGC, were more than evident.

This room, however, possessed windows and white walls.

A hospital, Teal’c remembered from the time he had accompanied SG1 to one, when O’Neill’s crystal double had wondered off in to the city.

If his assumption was correct, even though he was not among enemies, he needed to make his escape as soon as possible, as there were things about him that weren’t meant for many eyes to see.

Like his simbiote.

The soft sound of feet nearing his door was enough to warn Teal’c that someone was coming.

Pretending to be as unconscious as before, Teal’c once again trusted his ears and feeling to sense the person approaching.

Steps of someone entering, each step causing the metal coins inside the persons pocket to clink, feet covered with something smooth, maybe a pair of sneakers, all the sounds coming nearer and nearer.

The mingled smell of after-shave and hospitals disinfectant.

The feeling of someone hovering above him, checking his IV.

With a mental apology, Teal’c opened his eyes and without a second going wasted, planted a fist between the eyes of the nurse near him.

The surprised man looked at him, crossed his eyes over his nose and tumbled to the floor, unconscious.

Quickly taking off the IV needle from his arm and the electrodes from his chest, Teal’c replaced his not-very-covering gown by the other’s man white uniform and left the hospital’s room.

He had to find his friends and make sure they were safe.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Jack was inside the morgue’s cold room again, facing the body of a young man, killed by a close range gunshot.

With his eyes trapped to the still oozing wound, the Colonel was helpless about what he saw.

And this was something he really didn’t want to see.

He couldn’t look at the face of the young man, but he knew that there was something there that he was supposed to see.

The room was filled with the loud sounds of guns, screaming shots coming from everywhere at the same time, like some over-real war, were the sounds and smells all merged in to nothing.

His eyes moved on their own accord to the man’s face, only to let him see nothing, as that part of his body stood blank, like erased by a clumsy drawer.

As a loudest weapon exploded near his ears, the dead man’s features took form, the corpses opening it’s intense blue eyes and Jack found himself looking at a twisted, zombie version of Daniel, his eyes like accusation dots trained on his heart.

Jack woke up with a start, but his eyes, however, didn’t open.

Fighting to clear his confused mind, the Colonel soon realized that the reason behind his apparent blindness was the blindfold that he could feel covering his face, a situation that he couldn’t do anything about, as he could feel his wrists bound behind his back and his ankles bound together, making it for him almost impossible to move, let alone reach with his hands to his face to take the blindness away.

Even so, Jack tried to leave his half-lying position in to a more seated one, pressing his knees against the sandy-feeling floor and pushing himself up, dragging his bounded legs in front of him.

As he leaned against the cold wall behind him, the SG1 commander understood why he could feel it and the floor underneath him so sharply, as his bare back touched the ruff surface and his toes scratch the ground.

All but his underwear was gone.

‘Great... must be looking like a turkey on Christmas Eve!’ he thought.

Discarding the possibility of snooping around the room, hopping like a kangaroo and blind as a bat, given that seating up had been hard enough, the Colonel resorted to the only thing he had available at the time.

"Anyone here?" he asked out loud, the sound of his voice sounding too loud in the silent cell.

"Sam? Daniel? Anybody?" he asked, hoping that his teammates would be there too, given that the possibility of them having escaped being one that he wouldn’t put his money on.

Silence answered him back, letting him know that he was alone.

His team. Where could they be?

Daniel.

He needed to know what had happen to him.

The Major, he was sure that had gotten out with him, dragged by him actually, but Daniel...

The sound of the gun going off still rang in his ears, as clear as it had been fired just now.

His brain automatically figured the odds of what could’ve happen.

There were three persons inside.

Mary, Daniel and the armed goon that he had seen going in.

Considering that the goon in black probably didn’t chose that particular moment to commit suicide, that gun shot had to hit one of three things: the room (hopefully), Mary or Daniel.

If it had hit the wall, then Daniel, Sam and Mary were somewhere around there too, probably in the same conditions he was right now... not very nice, but alive.

If it had hit Daniel or Mary (please God no!), they could either be hurt or dea...

Damn statistics!

There was no use in sitting there, trying to guess what had happen.

He needed facts.

He needed to find where and in what conditions the rest of his team and Mary were.

He needed to get himself out of those handcuffs.

He needed to believe that Teal’c had not been captured and was already on his way to help them.

And he needed to take a pee... but, as the rest of his needs, this was one he was helpless to do something about.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Teal’c had absolutely no idea where he was.

Standing outside the hospital’s doors, the alien warrior looked around, desperately trying to find some sort of reference point to take him back to Mary’s house, but was still to find one.

If during daytime such deed would be extremely hard, in the pitch-black night it was virtually impossible for him to make it there.

A few feet away from where he stood, a cab line caught his attention.

Rapidly consulting his mental notes of the street’s names near the older woman’s house, Teal’c went straight to the front parked car and gave the direction to the driver.

The ride was short, but enough for the former Jaffa to give his body and his simbiote a little more time to heal, as he still was feeling weak.

The ideal was to perform Kelno’reem, but he had no time now.

Later.

When he was sure that everyone was safe.

During his long training to become a Jaffa, one of the many things that he had been taught was to listen to his own instincts, or gut feelings, as O’Neill had referred to them, although Teal’c really couldn’t see how ones guts could have feelings, or how those internal organs could have anything to do with it, but still, the basic idea was there. And that was something he had seen his commander use in more than one occasion.

Right now, Teal’c’s ‘gut feelings’ were telling him that something had happen.

Something bad.

"Here we are" the cab’s driver said, casting another look to the strange nurse man in the back.

Teal’c looked at the place where Mary’s house used to stand, seeing the firemen cars and ambulances around the place.

It seemed that his instincts had been right.

"Jeez... look at the size of that mess" the cab driver said, whistling between his lips. "Well sir, that would be ten..." . As he turned around to get his payment, the driver was stunned to find his back seat empty. "Damn him!", he said, quickly getting off the car and searching the dark street for his owing passenger, but he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Carefully nearing his goal, the smell of burned wood and heated metal assaulted Teal’c.

The fire, extinct by now, must have been very intense, as the former Jaffa noticed that not much was left from the older woman’s house.

Keeping himself at a safe distance from the blurry of activity that surrounded the burned place, Teal’c watched as a black body bag, already closed, came from inside and was carefully placed in front of the house, in what was left of the once green grass.

Patiently Teal’c waited to see if any more bags came to join the first, angst rising inside his heart at the thought that all inside the house could be dead, but as no more bodies came from what was left of the house, the alien man concluded that only one had died.

Which one of the four, Teal’c had no way of knowing.

Looming away from the street lamps in front of Mary’s former home, Teal’c stood watch until the last car took off, leaving the place market with yellow bands.

After making sure that no one was in the immediate area, the last of the curious having given up a long time ago, Teal’c made his move towards the house.

Moving fast, so he could finish his search before the sun completely rise up in the sky, Teal’c circled the place, trying to find any sort of clue to whom the three survivors were and where they might be.

Thanking this planet’s moon for providing him some added measure of light, Teal’c recognized ahead of him a familiar box that he had already seen in O’Neill’s house, the box that contained the devices necessary to provide the Tau’ri houses with artificial light and phone line, as his commander had explain to him.

Seeing it open ajar, the alien warrior looked inside and saw the damaged wires.

Someone had cut through them, effectively leaving the people inside the house in the dark and with no means of communication.

Which meant that whatever had happened in Mary’s Orson house had not been an accident.

Completing his search out and inside the house, Teal’c found nothing more, as all other possible signs left behind by the attackers had been erased either by all the people that had already been there or by the fire itself.

The former Jaffa closed his eyes.

He needed to think on what to do next.

Finally deciding that he couldn’t help his friends all by himself, Teal’c decided that it was time to call the only person on this planet that could help SG1 at this point.

General Hammond.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Just when you think things can’t get any worse, what happens? Something worse!

That’s your basic Murphy’s law.

Life’s little insane way of kicking your butt when you’re already down.

So, it wasn’t trouble enough that SGC was losing it’s secrecy, becoming exposed to all the craziness and greed of the world, Daniel being wanted for the murder of yet another good guy, the rest of SG1 probably facing some serious looking court martial and what else happens?

Apohis strikes Earth?

No... that would be too ‘been there, done that’. Better yet, they get caught by some men in black (haha), dumped God knows where, in their damn underwear!

So, yeah, to say that Sam was pissed was maybe cutting it a little too short.

She had awoken to a total darkness that had nothing to do with the amount of light inside the cell she was in, but rather due to the tight blindfold she could feel over her eyes, preventing her from opening them.

After she had realized that her wrists and ankles were bound too and that all but her issue bra and pants was gone, Sam had tried to find if there was anybody else in there with her, only to come to the bitter conclusion that the rest of her team wasn’t there.

Leaning against one of the cold walls, the Major concentrated on calming her nerves, realizing that she was one short step away of hyperventilating.

This was exactly what her captors would want, letting her there, all by herself, blind to whatever happened around her and all but naked.

Braking point. It was all about getting her all worked up to a nice braking point.

She knew the theory just as well as the next military guy or girl, the basic about tempering with the prisoners mental barriers, letting them feel expose and fragile, rob them of their dignity, of their sleep, of their basic human condition... and the list just goes on.

Not that the knowledge of this being a, straight from the book of bad guys, application helped any or changed the fact that she really was feeling exposed and fra... well, not fragile, but definitely exposed... and Sam Carter hated that!

Being one of the few woman in SGC to be part of one of the ‘outdoors’ teams, as some called them, Sam had been more than once warned about the possibility of, because of that particular fact, she could be someday used as a liability to weaken the rest of the team, if they happened to be captured by one of their, always growing, list of enemies.

Of course that whenever someone thrown that sort of crap on top of her she would fight back, faithful to her GI Jane spirit, and would say that that was as much true for her as for any of the others guys. The bound that kept them close together as friends and team was what made them both strong and weak, all in the same bright promotion package.

So, it really didn’t matter if she was a woman and they were men, they all could be use as liabilities against the others, because the care level between them was really the same.

The thing was that they really had been taken by the enemy, more than once actually, and they really had been used one against each other once, but they hadn’t compromised nothing at the time, because they knew that what was at stake was bigger than them.

Now, there was no evidence that the dreaded situation would happen again.

Or so she hoped.

Even so, Sam felt uneasy with her position right now, helpless and with a feeling of... being watched.

She couldn’t quite describe it, but she felt like thousands of eyes were trained on her, spying her moves.

Paranoia.

She was getting paranoiac.

Taking a deep breath, Sam decided it was best for her and her mental health if she kept her mind occupied with something else.

Like the location of her teammates.

The Colonel, she was almost sure of it, had been the one dragging her outside Mary’s room, which meant he could be somewhere near her, probably on another cell.

Teal’c... she had no idea where Teal’c was. He hadn’t came to the room with the Colonel and Daniel, and she had been so excited with her discoveries that she didn’t even asked about him, just assuming that he had stayed in the living room, or had gone to the bathroom, or something like that.

Daniel.

Frowning her eyebrows, Sam tried to remember if he had hit the wall with her and Jack. It was all very confused inside her head, the memories unfocused by the effects of the tear gas and the dark, but still she had a strong feeling that neither he nor Mary had left the gas filled room, at least not that she’d seen.

But there was something else...

Sam knew it was an important fact, one that her brain had barely registered, but she just couldn’t recall it right.

Concentrating on her scrambled memories, the Major forced herself to dig the events after she had hit the wall.

... There had been hands... over her, bidding her... the sound of weapons being carried from one side to another... a muffled exchange of words between two of the attackers... a woman’s scream... Mary... a gun shot!

As she remembered, Sam’s eyes would’ve snapped open, if she could.

She had heard a gun going off inside the room where, she supposed, Daniel and Mary still were.

God... did that meant one of them was dead?

Both?

Knowing that torturing herself trying to guess who, if any, was dead, would lead to no where, Sam tried to concentrate on the words she had heard from the attackers instead, as they were her only clue on who was keeping them prisoners.

Going deeper inside her own head, like she always did when some particular hard problem’s solution eluded her, Sam focused on the words.

They had sounded strange for some reason... an alien speech that somehow fitted well with the bizarre memory she had from their captures... only it wasn’t alien, because she recognized it from somewhere... it had sounded almost like... French!

That was it... they had spoken in French!

Instantly, the tiny pieces clicked together inside her head.

LaMarq.

Daniel had mentioned that the goons that had killed Simmons had been talking in French and from what she had seen from LaMarq’s file she knew he was Belgium... and Belgium spoke French.

If LaMarq had brought his goons with him... it couldn’t be a coincidence.

They were in LaMarq’s hands!

But why?

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The sound of metal scrapping on the floor filled the silence of Jack’s cell. With his senses on maximum alert, the Colonel heard as one, two, three pairs of feet entered, filling the room with a mixed smell of sweat and cheap after-shave.

‘Here we go’ Jack thought, as he felt big hands grab him and pull him to his feet, pushing him against the wall.

Instead of the questions that the Colonel had been expecting for, a fist came rolling itself on his gut, effectively knocking all wind out of him, the strong hands preventing him from folding in to a position that could disguise some of the sharp pain.

Before the Colonel could have any time to regroup himself after the first punch, a second one landed inches away from the previous spot, quickly followed by a hard foot on his tender back, the shove sending him flying across the cell, coming to a ruff landing on the next wall, his face taking the brut of it, as the Colonel could do little to keep his body from landing as it pleased.

Not a word spoken, not a warning of any sort coming his way.

Sliding to the dirty floor, Jack just laid there, trying to catch his breath before the next invisible blow came.

He was getting too old for this shit.

The sound of the door closing informed him that the blow he was waiting wouldn’t come... for now.

Dragging himself against the newly discovered wall, the Colonel draw his legs up to his chest, trying to smooth the hot pain in his middle, seriously wondering what had that been all about.

The purpose of the beating sessions, as Jack came to conclude, was merely to piss him off.

The next rounds, as he had labeled it, came from half in half hour, or so he figured, the blindfold doing little to keep his sense of time working.

Each and every time they came, the attack was more painful and as silent as the first had been, like the only reason they keep doing it was for sports.

By what little he could figure, next visit time was almost up, a fact that, despite all of the Colonel’s will to keep control of his body, still made him shake like a damn leaf.

That or the cold floor on his butt was starting to get to him.

He wasn’t afraid of them, as he wasn’t afraid of LaMarq’s actions against him, because if that happened he would start doing stupid things and would most certainly end up dead, but his body... that had a mind of his own and as it guessed that pulp time was almost up again, old bruises making room for the new ones to come.

And he could recognize this situation for what it really was... a way to wear him down, the blows, although strong enough to cause pain, were professionally applied to not cause any serious damage that could lead to his death... not for now, anyway. For now, the only result that they were looking for was the nice multicolored bruise pattern that he was sure to have by now. And to break his defenses.

Soon, as sure as Hammond being bald, O’Neill heard the metal door scrap on the dirty floor as it open and let his tortures in again.

Like the other times, no questions were made, no demand was pressed, not a word left the mouth of the men punching him like a sandbag.

Jack, however, had had more than enough. He knew he shouldn’t loosen his tongue like that, but he hated to admit it, the silence and the apparent uselessness of this ‘hit and smash’ number was really getting on his nerves.

Like he hadn’t had a shitty enough week!

"You guys really hit like a girl, you know?" he managed to say, before a hard fist filled his mouth.

Crumbling to the floor, trying as best as he could to soften the fall, Jack didn’t gave up.

"Actually, I know some girls that throw a better punch than you!" he said as soon he could find his voice again.

As if to prove him wrong, the next blow was stronger than the previous.

"Ouch... ok, you’re doing better" he said, trying to sound more sarcastic and less pain filled.

"Fermé ta bouche cochon!"// Shut your mouth, pig! \\ someone said at the same time that a heavy boot found his ribs.

"Where is the rest of my team?" Jack asked this time, happy with his small victory of forcing some words out of them, as little as he had understood it, but getting only another punch as an answer now.

"Are they here?"

Again only silence answered him, cut by the sound of the door opening once again, his sure sign that his tormentors were leaving.

Fighting to push unconsciousness away, Jack thought once again that he wouldn’t get another word from them when he felt a presence near his ear.

"Rest assure ‘Colonel’... your friends are being well taken care off", the voice hissed too near him, in a deep accent.

Spitting out the blood he could fell in his mouth from where his lip had broken, Jack tried as hard as he could to seat straighter, but gave up when his body denied him that.

"Where are they?" he asked turning his head to where he guessed the other man was.

There was no answer.

"What have you done with them?" Jack asked again trying to make his voice sound angry instead of worried, but as soon as the words had left his mouth he knew he had failed on that.

And he regretted miserably for saying them as he realized that he had just handed to his enemy the fact that he cared about them.

‘Stupid, stupid thing to do O’Neill... that was really a rookie one’ he thought, mentally stuffing his foot in his big mouth.

Jack could almost hear the other man’s lips turn up in a smile.

"You keep yourself in very nice company ‘Colonel’... quite a sight that pretty Major of yours", the man said, not doing the minimal effort to hide the lust that dripped from his voice.

The Colonel’s stomach turned upside down.

Carter.

"She is... wonderful to play with" the other man continued to tease him, his hot breath burning Jack’s ear.

The leader of SG1 tried as hard as he could to show no more emotions about the others to this sleaze ball person-project, than what he already had, but even he could hear the sound of his own teeth grinding against each other as he forced himself to stay quiet.

His mind, helped by the black screen that his eyes showed him, was presenting him in bright colors all the horror movies that his 2IC could be leading at this very time, as he imagined what might have happened to her.

And that wasn’t helping one bit!

When he had been a prisoner in Iraq there had been this one time when some women had been captured and brought to the same prison camp where he was.

They had been taken to the central square, a view all prisoners shared, and, trapped like animals, he and the others had been forced to watch as the soldiers proved to them how big machos they all were.

The screaming of the abused women still awaked him in some nights, even after all these years.

"The other one isn’t that bad either... for those who like the type" the other man pressed on, obviously noticing the emotions boiling inside the trapped man.

The Colonel tensed. Was he talking about Daniel or Mary?

"But don’t worry... he is in good hands too... some of the guys are even having a little bet to see who gets his sorry ass..."

Jack tensed almost to braking point. If what the man had said did let him know that Daniel was alive, somewhere in there, the goon’s choice of words was not the best he could think of. Jack knew the bastard was doing it on purpose, but if he was making it up just to tease him or relating him true facts, the Colonel had no way of knowing.

Which left him to wonder.

Wonder how much was true.

Wonder what his friends, his team could be going through.

And that was the worst torture of all for him. He could handled betting, he could handle humiliation, he could handle what ever they thought of throwing down to him, but to imagine those things happening to his friends, that, he couldn’t handle very well.

And this shitter had realized that.

All because he had made one stupid slip.

"Qu’est que tu fait?"// What are you doing? \\ a voice sounded, coming from the door’s direction.

"Rien" // Nothing \\ the man next to O’Neill said, getting to his feet. Walking to the door, the man locked it after leaving.

Leaving the Colonel haunted by images.

Their exchange of words, however hadn’t gone unnoticed by the experienced Air Force official, in some other section of his brain that wasn’t darkened with images of his troubled teammates.

Jack might not know much about ancient languages and stuff like that, but there were a few modern ones that he could get one word or two.

And that had been french those guys had been talking, that much Jack was sure of.

French talking goons.

‘LaMarq".

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

As it turned out, General Hammond was nearer than what Teal’c had imagined. NID had informed SGC of where Dr. Jackson and the rest of SG1 were and the General had left the mountain the second after, wanting to be in command of the operation personally.

So, all the alien man had to do was wait until the unidentified car where the General was traveling parked in front of what was left of Mary Orson’s house.

"Dear Lord!" the older man let out when he saw the destruction in front of him.

"General Hammond" Teal’c said, making himself noted.

"Teal’c... How are you?", Hammond, dressed in his civvies, said when he saw the other man, a questioning look coming to his face when he registered the nurse uniform that Teal’c was still wearing, but that feeling disappearing as fast as it came, concern taking it’s place in a flash.

"I am well"

"Good to hear that son... what happen here?" he asked, once again turning to see the burned house, black smoke still coming out from it in this first hours of the morning.

"There was an attack when I was absent from the house" the former Jaffa supplied, the underneath glint of guilt supporting his sentence.

"Attacked by who?"

"I do not know"

"And they were all inside the house when this happen?" the SGC leader asked, fearing the worst.

"I think not... there was, however, one casualty"

"Who?"

"I was not able to determine"

"Damn it!... This is getting out of control" the General said, almost to himself.

"What is happening General Hammond?" Teal’c asked, seeing that the man knew more about this situation than all of SG1 put together.

"I’ll tell you all about it... just let me make some phone calls and I’ll tell you... which is something I should’ve done right from the beginning"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Sam couldn’t take it much longer, she knew that much. She just wished that the jerks that were coming on regular basis to beat the shit out of her were dumb enough to not realize it too.

Her body ached all over, in places that she hadn’t even realize to exist, much less hurt like that, plus her troubling ankle, that she was sure to be twisted, to say the least, a fine result from a tough landing, last time they had come.

They would be back soon.

It was funny how she was completely lost on how long she had been there or if it was day or night, but she could be almost sure that the goon’s next visit was almost up.

This all situation was proving to be as much painful as it was frustrating. Apart from the ‘small’ detail that she couldn’t see who was attacking her, she couldn’t defend any of the blows either, only realizing that a punch or a kick was coming her way when it hit home.

So, here she was, Sam Carter, human punch bag with another training session coming her way!

Then, of course, you still had that small particular detail that they appeared to have no freaking tongue!

Her silent attackers had not yet spoken one word to her, not asked a single question, anything. Not that she complaining of that or anything, but it was a little enervating, as it left her thinking that the only purpose of this was for them to make some exercise... on her!

It was wearing her down.

That and the fact that she had no idea on where that rest of team was, her continuous questioning of their whereabouts always meeting the same wall of silence.

That, or she had been already unconscious when they finally answered.

The, by now familiar, sound of the metal door scrapping on the floor, raised the Major from her thoughts as her body tensed.

She already knew was coming next.

Unconsciously turning her head towards where the sound of feet nearing her came, Sam remained seated, waiting for the first blow to come.

She felt as strong hands grabbed her arms, yanking her up right and holding her secured in the same spot. But, instead of the, by now familiar too, pain, the Major felt something cold and sharp, metal, something’s blade, brush by her legs.

A knife.

Instinctually trying to pull away, Sam stood grounded in place by the strong hands, leaving her helpless to defend herself.

She could sense the man beside her smiling.

Tensing up and trying to keep her heart and breath from running wild inside her chest, Sam unconsciously hold her breath as she felt the blade, barely touching her skin, in a teasing kind of way, run across her right leg, starting on her hip, passing through her knee, down her ankle... ending up on the ropes binding her there, cutting through them and freeing her legs.

Cursing her shaking body, not wanting her captors to know how scare she really was from whatever came next, Sam almost breath out in relief when she felt the strong hands lead her out of her cell, into the cold, damp air of the outside.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she felt that her voice was steady enough to do so.

As usual no one answered.

Instead, they stopped and, before she could make any more sound, something made of rough fabric was shoved inside her mouth and tied behind her head, effectively gagging her before they resumed their short journey through some kind of corridor, some place that must’ve had lot’s of communications with outside, judging by the chilling air that was freezing the poorly dressed woman.

Short after they came to second alt and, hearing the sound of a door similar to her own opening, Sam was trusted inside another room, or so she guessed, as the breeze that she had felt until then disappear.

This new room, smelling much like hers, felt crowded.

"Good... everyone is here... let’s begin" a voice, lacking the French accent that Sam had been waiting to hear from her mute torturers, broke the silent room.

An American accent... Texan maybe.

An older voice.

Colder.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Teal’c was putting to use all of his training as a Jaffa warrior in preventing himself from pacing the floor of the hotel room, turned into operation center, where he and the General had travel to.

After what had seemed to the worried man eons of wasted time, Hammond finally turned his attention towards the single member of SG1 still accounted for.

"Teal’c... please, have a seat" he started, indicating a chair by the table, in front of him.

Silently, the big man pulled a chair and positioned himself, his large hands folded on the tabletop, apparently very calm outside, as he waited for the older looking man to finally clear his troubled mind..

"Alright... first of all, you should know that the victim’s body has already been identified... it wasn’t from any SG1 member, but from the house owner... a Mary Orson. Did you knew her?" the General asked.

The face of the former Jaffa looked more grim than usual.

"Yes... Mary Orson was the woman that helped us locate Daniel Jackson... it is sad that she had to pay that deed with her life".

Seeing that the General was waiting for more details on that matter Teal’c went on, relating everything that had happened since SG1 had received the older woman’s phone call, including what Daniel had told them.

"So, Dr. Jackson found LaMarq" the General let out, his features showing just how tired he was of this situation.

Teal’c’s eyebrow did its thing.

"Yes Teal’c... we already knew about LaMarq’s implication on this matter. His plan’s to expose SGC had come to our knowledge some time ago"

"And did he succeeded?" Teal’c asked, remembering what he had saw on the news’s report and figuring that, if the SGC commander was there with him, away from the mountain, then the problem had already come to an end, one way or the other.

The General’s mood improved even so little, his stance relaxing for the shortest of times.

"You haven’t seen the news?"

Teal’c nodded his head negatively.

A smile did play on Hammond lips this time.

"We’ve contacted the Nox and asked for their help on this one. They were a little reluctant at first, not wanting to interfere, but after we explained to them the implications of what could happen if the Stargate became public this soon, they’ve agreed to land us a hand. So, when the chosen group entered our facilities they saw only what the Nox wanted them to see... largely empty storage rooms as they made everything else disappear"

"So the Stargate remains a secret?"

"For the time being, yes... it was a close one, I grant you that, but it will give us time to corner the people behind this plot and prevent any further damage... or so we hope" the General said, all but sighing.

His last sentence reminded the alien man of another pressing subject.

"You already knew that LaMarq was the person behind this evil scheme?", Teal’c asked, frowning.

"Yes"

"Then why did you asked us to come to Washington?", he asked, starting to think that maybe O’Neill was correct in his assumptions.

Before the General could answer him, someone knocked on the door. One of the airmen present inside the room went for it, letting a dead man inside.

Graham Simmons.

"What is the meaning of this?" Teal’c shouted, jumping to his feet.

"Stand down Teal’c... it’s all right" the General said, his voice calm but in full use of all the experience that comes with years of commanding others.

"You are dead" Teal’c stated, as if to remind the young man still standing next to the door that he wasn’t supposed to be there, breathing.

"He never was... please seat down and we’ll explain everything to you" the General said, conscious that this was a very confusing situation for the stressed Jaffa. After all, the only ones he was use to see rising from the dead like that were evil parasite aliens that impersonated gods on daily basis.

With out taking his eyes from Simmons, Teal’c nodded and sat again.

"Some time ago, NID informed our superiors about this situation. They had, by luck I have to add, crossed upon the plans of a very rich businessman to possess the Stargate... although they knew who this man was, they had no idea who his contacts were, as they were certain that he had insiders helping him. Throughout their investigation they came across several persons inside NID that were on LaMarq’s paycheck. But, when they figured that alone NID couldn’t go any further to flush all persons behind this plan, they came to us" the General started, looking like a weight was leaving his shoulders.

"They needed someone as much trustworthy as unknown in NID and among LaMarq’s men to play a little charade... and there’s where the Lt. here enters... we asked him to pretend to be a good and reliable information source for LaMarq, giving him what he wanted until we could pinpoint the rest of the people involved"

"But was it not a risk to be giving out this sort of information?" Teal’c asked.

"LaMarq had other information sources... when Graham finally made personal contact he realized that LaMarq already knew too much about the Stargate itself but was lacking the prove to affirm it’s existence, something he was desperate to have.

So, that was what we promised him, in exchange for meeting the other players. NID suspected that someone inside the government was playing along with this guy, someone that they could never reach and someone that they’re still trying to catch... their theory is that this hidden player is the one moving all the cards, as they think that LaMarq is nothing more then a pawn"

"Like we were" the alien accused, understanding the comparison with the Tau’ri game Daniel Jackson had once taught him to play.

It was easy to see that the General had involved SG1 in this matter only to keep appearances, as LaMarq would know that as soon as the SGC commander realized that the program’s security was compromised, he would send SG1 to investigate the matter, as had happen on other occasions.

If they wanted that LaMarq and his partner went on with their plans, they had to assure that everything appear as normal as always.

"Yes, you were" the General admitted sadly "the President asked for our full collaboration on this matter and, as little as I liked what I had to do, I had to agree with my superiors decision" the General paused, trying to weight Teal’c’s reaction "It was suppose to be a wild goose chase Teal’c, but unfortunately Dr. Jackson’s path crossed the Lt.’s and everything went the worst possible way"

"Daniel Jackson saw you being shot... your body was discovered inside the burned vehicle... how?" Teal’c said, directing his gaze towards the embarrassed young man still near the door, as if afraid to intrude in their conversation.

It was the General who answered him.

"Jackson saw him being shot, yes, but what he didn’t saw was the special protection-vest the Lieutenant was wearing, as he always did when he was meeting LaMarq or his men... we had men on location, acting as Simmons back-up... they saw when Dr. Jackson came in to scene, but they were unable to do anything to prevent his capture, as by then they were already too busy trying to prevent the Lieutenant here to turn in to crisp toast inside the car that LaMarq’s men had shoved down the ravine and left to burn, the gun they had filled with Jackson’s fingerprints left behind beside the car, to incriminate him... as for the body, NID planted it there after we removed the Lieutenant, placing his dogtails in the corpses, so that LaMarq believed that he had succeeded in killing him."

"Then you had always known that Daniel Jackson was not guilty of the accusations that fell upon him"

Teal’c stated, a not so small amount of anger slipping in to his voice.

"We knew, but that was as much to prevent any suspicion from LaMarq as to give us enough cover to look for Jackson... and no Teal’c, we couldn’t have SG1 involved in this anymore than what you already were because LaMarq would be keeping an eye on all of you... do you understand that?" he asked, seeing the angered look on the other man soften in recognition that some times things had to be done in ways that didn’t pleased us one bit, in order to accomplish greater goals.

And Teal’c understood that.

"The traitors inside SGC have all been flushed out. The last one inside NID was discovered only yesterday, when she delayed LaMarq the information on SG1 location... unfortunately, from her interrogation we were only able to confirm that LaMarq is working with someone from our government, someone that only contacts him by phone, making sure that no one identifies him" the General said, bringing Teal’c up to date with them.

"And now LaMarq has them" Graham whispered, having finally lost his embarrassing in front of the alien man and taking a seat too.

"What for is what I cannot understand" Hammond let out "by now LaMarq must have realized that his plan failed and that his chances of having access to the Stargate are now very slim... why does he want them?"

"Maybe he has knowledge of something that we do not" Teal’c stated deep in thought.

"Whatever he has in mind, we have to retrieve SG1 as soon as possible" the General said, handing them copies of LaMarq’s properties all over the world "let’s just hope that he has them in one of his hidings"

Simmons gazed the extensive list of houses, warehouses, buildings and other structures that the other man possessed.

"This will be like looking for a needle in a haystack" he thought out loud, only to realize that his commanding officer had heard his comment "... Sir" he added red-faced.

"I concur" Teal’c said, looking to his own list "there’s is no time for this"

"I’m open to suggestions" the General said to him.

"The Tau’ri possess means of observing the sky in detail... do you have the technology to do the reverse?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Satellites Sir... we can use the satellites to search for SG1 among LaMarq’s properties" Graham said with an enthusiasm that rivaled the one of a certain Major, when he realized what the alien man was implying.

Teal’c nodded in agreement.

"We need only to chose the ones from this list that are more likely to be use to hide prisoners"

"Sounds like a plan gentlemen... let’s get to work!"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The goons next round came earlier by what the Colonel could figure. Just like all the other times, Jack could hear and sense the several persons, men by what he could smell, gathering around him, silent.

Without any sort of warning, a knife cut through the ropes that were binding his ankles, as other hands grabbed him by his arms and yanked him to his feet.

Having learned a long time ago that playing the stubborn when the odds were not so good was a dumb, dumb thing to do, the Colonel let himself be lead outside his cell and through a cold and damp path with little trouble for his captors.

The floor underneath his bare feet no longer felt like sand and was now more straw-like, giving Jack the feeling that he was inside some kind of barn.

After a short, almost straight forward walk, Jack and his chaperones came to an alt, the breeze biting in to his skin sending shivers racing all through his body, both from the temperature as from the situation, the experienced Colonel knowing from advance that he wasn’t going to like this new development just one bit.

Something tasting like sheet forcing it’s way through his mouth cut the Colonel’s train of dark thoughts, the cloth working it’s way around his head to be tightly tied behind.

"Make a sound and your friends die" a male voice, too close for Jack liking, sounded near his right ear before yanking the blindfold from his eyes.

Blinking like a mad man, the Colonel tried in vain to shield his light-sensitive eyes from the bright sock of light that came all of a sudden as a door opened and they all went inside.

Several seconds, as his eyes started to adjust to the glum, the Colonel realized he was inside another cell, probably just like his one.

The inside of room looked like some sort of stable division, only bigger, reinforcing the Colonel’s idea that they were inside some sort of barn or country house.

And this division was crowded with people.

Among them, right in front of him and flanked by two big, masked bullies, Daniel stood, half standing, half leaning against the far wall, looking as BBP as he felt.

Battered, Bruised and Pissed.

Dressed, or rather, undressed in the same fashion as he was, his teammate lacked the gag that the Colonel was chewing between his teeth, a fact that the young man was putting to much use as he could, sending questions flying in all directions, as the blindfold that covered half of his face left him guessing were the others he could feel near him, were.

Growing tired of the too vocal prisoner, one of the men beside him send a vicious kick in the back of his knees, effectively ending the speech as the hit body took the unexpected blow and Daniel landed heavily on his already bloodied knees, the lack of balance of having his hands cuffed behind his back almost sending him to the floor, face first. He balanced, tilted and finally managed to stay on his knees, muttering something between his clenched mouth.

The Colonel flinched in sympathy, refraining himself from going vocal too, the other man’s voice replaying inside his head, the tone guaranteeing him that the threat would be carry out with out a blink.

They didn’t want his friend to know that he was there, watching.

The sound of the door scrapping the floor again, stole Jack’s gaze from his fallen friend to another one, as his 2IC came in, heavily guard by the two men flanking her and looking like she too had been in the receiving end of some high-speed strokes.

Sam, like him, was gagged, her blindfold still on, not allowing her the sight of her two friends, leaving her as alone in the dark as Daniel.

O’Neill was starting to be really grateful for the piece of cloth inside his mouth, as it provide him something to bite his anger on.

Although the Colonel was relieved that his friends looked in one piece, a more blackened piece than what he remember, but still, one piece, the path that this was taking was not looking good.

They were going to use his teammates to force him in to something.

"Good... everyone is here... let’s begin!"

The voice caused SG1 to turn their heads towards the source of the sound, Sam and Daniel already knowing that they wouldn’t see a thing, and the Colonel finding that he couldn’t either, as he realized that the voice owner was hidden in the shadows that lurked in the far corner of the cell, the strong lights against his eyes covering whatever the shadows left to see.

"Who’s there? Who are you? What do you want? Where are my friends?" Daniel started at light speed speech, giving voice to all the questions that had been inside the minds of the rest of the prisoners the last couple of hours, showing that he had learned little about ‘how to be a quiet prisoner’ from the last kick.

Jack could see in the change of Sam’s stance and the light built of tension on her bare shoulders, that she had recognized the voice of her teammate, realizing that she wasn’t there alone.

Always moving swiftly and in silence, the men in the black masks grabbed both Daniel and Sam and, taking them to the center of the room, release their hands from behind their backs, only to secure them again to two of the chains that dangled from the tall ceiling, placing them side by side right in front of the unseen commander.

"What are you doing?" Daniel asked, his voice braking in fear and dreaded anticipation as his head turned from one place to another, at the speed of the bodies that he could hear around him.

"Now, I ask the questions and you give the answers... the usual" the same voice said matter-of-factly.

Daniel tensed even more.

"And if I don’t?" he asked, the answer already more than clear to him, by all the apparatus of his present condition.

The voice didn’t answer him, leaving him to find out on his won.

"Question number one" the voice said, like some game-show host in some bizarre contest "Where is the rest of SG1?".

Daniel’s frown and puzzled face was similar to Sam’s, although for different reasons.

Sam knew that at least Daniel was there and that the Colonel couldn’t be very far, so it intrigued her why was the man asking for their location, when he knew better than no one else.

As for Daniel, one of the things that had helped him go through the timed beating sessions was the knowledge that, somewhere near him was the rest of SG1, and that as long as they stayed together they would be able to pull one of their famous last minute rescues off.

It had been a thin based hope.

And know that hope had been shattered.

"Where are them?!" Daniel parroted, the fear of concluding that he was all alone in this showing itself clear in his face "I ... I don’t know" he finally said, his voice sounding defeated.

Of course that he didn’t wished this situation for his friends, but a lot of his strength came from them, and know weaknesses was coming to haunt him.

‘Damn you!’ Jack hissed inside his head, realizing what shadow-man was doing when he heard Daniel’s voice.

By thinking that he was alone, with no sort of support and totally on his own among enemies, Daniel’s defenses would be weaker, thinner... easier for shadow-man to break.

Or so was the plan.

"This Stargate... How many planets can it go to?" the male voice asked, happy that the first point had been scored.

"Who said it goes anywhere?" Daniel said, recovering some of his bearing, realizing that if he was alone, it was up to him to keep this man from gathering anymore information than what he already had.

The military cliché of ‘need to know’ had always made little sense to him... until now.

This guy really didn’t need to know.

Someone’s boot hit Daniel’s already bruised stomach in a swift motion, the force of the blow making his legs brake their support for a second, leaving the man dangling from his hands and moaning in pain.

"I already explained to you Dr. Jackson... I ask the question... you just answer" the voice said, sounding like a teacher that was explaining the same thing for the tenth time to a particularly slow student.

"How many?" the voice asked again.

"Ah... just, just a few" Daniel said, still trying to keep the pain in his middle under control, slowly getting back on his feet, easing the strain that his body weight was putting on his already bleeding wrists.

"I want a number" the voice said, apparently not knowing enough about the Stargate to realize the white lie.

Daniel kept quiet.

He knew that he was feeding them shit so far, but he had to do it slow enough so they would think that he was having problems about given out well kept secrets... it was all in how well he act.

That much he had learned from Jack.

Basic rules: first, you don’t talk; second, you don’t talk, no matter what.

When it came to that particular part of the basic training that the Colonel had personally gave him, Daniel had hated it.

More than the shooting training, more than the long ‘how to use or disable an arm, bomb or grenade in 5 quick lessons’ sessions, more than all the knowledge about defense and strategy that SGC had pushed down his brain, Daniel had hated the hints Jack had passed on to him in how to survive torture if capture by an enemy force, hints that most of times seemed more like personal knowledge than military wisdom.

And he had hated when he and the rest of SG1 had to group themselves and define contingency plans for those situations.

It was the planning of it and the ‘no matter what’ that he really had a problem with.

Because the ‘no matter what’ implied more than what he had bargain for when he had entered that black car to talk with Catherine.

The first real taste that he had had of it had been in that alternative reality that he, Jack and Teal’c had travel to, in order to help the alternative Sam and Kawalsky. Thanks to him they had been captured and the alternative General had died (shortly) because they wouldn’t tell the alternative Apophis what he wanted to hear. He had been next in line to suffer the same fate, saved only by shear luck.

Then, there had been their version of Apophis in Hell, Sokkar’s sweet home. Apophis had forced him to drink that awful tasting stuff and planted the memory device in him, just to get the location of the Harcisis child. To this day, he still had no idea how he had managed to win that one, keeping his mouth shut and still finding the nerve to form a skimpy plan to get the Tok’ra communication device.

Then, too soon after that, there was P2X-416. He had almost given up there, when Rygar had shot Sam and Jack only to force him to give out Teal’c’ s location.

Jack had almost died because of that one. Because of him.

And that was one ‘ no matter what’ that he wasn’t ready to face.

Shadow-man got the idea that Daniel wasn’t giving him an answer, so, as promised, the young man found what happen, as one of the large masked man behind him grabbed a worn looking whip from it’s place on the wall and, in one swift movement, lashed it out against the prisoner’s bare back.

Not expecting the sudden pain, Daniel let out a pain filled yelp, as he felt the whip cut in to his flesh, his body instinctively flinching away from a second blow that didn’t arrived.

Her body flinching too, in sympathy, Sam turned her head towards the place from where both sounds had come, realizing that Daniel had started to pay for his silence.

"A bit of an old trick, isn’t it... but still sooo effective" the voice said "now... shall I repeat the question?".

Daniel was taking deep breaths, trying to calm the pain in his back and ignore the trickle of blood he could feel there.

"Twelve" he said, throwing out the first number that came to his mind.

"How many of those can support human life?" came the next question, shadow-man apparently not wanting to waste any time and believing that the Stargate was so limited.

"About... half of them... the others had no breathable air" Daniel said, keeping his bluff.

The blindfold covering Daniel’s eyes was proving to be one point in their favor, as Jack was reasoning with himself.

The Colonel had always managed to tell when Daniel was being less than true about something by his eyes, because if he had learned anything about that man was that he couldn’t face anyone when he was lying. He would look at his hands, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere, but the person he was talking to, because he knew that the truth was always plain to see in his eyes, and he couldn’t cover that.

So, in this case, these guys hadn’t a clue on how bad of a liar Daniel really was and were having a real problem to see the bullshit that the young man was sending their way.

His friend was doing fine, Jack mused, but, as he suspected, the big questions were being saved for last.

Like the adre...

"The addressees Dr. Jackson... I would like to have the addressees of those six planets" shadow-man asked.

‘Being always right can be a curse’ Jack thought bitterly.

Daniel tensed in anticipation. That was a question that he really couldn’t answer. Sure he knew dozens of planet symbols by now, not that he took the effort of memorize them, but they would stick in his head, each planet he gated too marking him in some particular way, some good, some not so good.

Even so, he couldn’t just ‘hand’ six planets to this jerk, first of all because they weren’t his to hand, second because if this guys could really have access to the Stargate, they could do some real damage out there and third... just because!

"I’m waiting Dr. Jackson" the voice sounded impatient.

Daniel already knew what was coming next to his silence, so he put to use one of the hints and tricks Jack had taught him.

He let his mind wonder off.

He was coming to realize how strange his life had become in the last weeks. Even though he didn’t live what you can call a normal life, given that his line of work implied traveling to distant planets on weekly basis, his life outside SGC was as ordinary as it gets.

He had his bills to pay, he had his fridge to fill or settle for starvation, he had his pet-fishes that kept him extremely busy every time he had to clean that big tank of theirs, he had his clothes to take to the laundry down street, he had the cleaning lady, Mrs. O’Mhara, that once a week helped to prevent that his apartment turned in to an ancient tomb and he had Mrs. Thornpitt, from the apartment across from his, that always found his life, and the rest of the neighbors, more interesting than hers, by the way she kept monitoring everybody’s lives, his included. When he came in, when he was out, who came with him, who staid there... that sort of annoying things.

Simple things, ordinary stuff. He liked that, as it was the part of his life that kept him grounded to reality, balancing the other part that resembled more a science-fiction show than a real life, the part that kept him sane enough to go on with his insane job of ‘saving the Universe in general and Earth in particular’.

Now, this past few weeks had been completely messing with that balance of his.

This wasn’t the way ordinary lives went on Earth. Ordinary people do not get kidnapped and stuffed in a mental house just so some wild scheme can work its way through. Ordinary people didn’t got kidnapped twice, in less than two weeks, to be left hanging from the ceiling like some really bad home made reproduction of 007 movies.

In the middle of all the insanity that his life had become, Daniel managed to summon up all the courage he still retained from this, yet again, bone wearing, hair raising experience and decided to give his torture a answer that he hoped would convince the voice that he was there by mistake.

"Look, I don’t know any symbols... you have the wrong guy in here... I just translate stuff for them" he said, once again raising his bluff.

This time, the other player wasn’t fooled.

"Don’t play games with me boy... I read your file, I know what was your part in opening the Stargate.. you know the symbols I need!" the voice said, absolute certain marking his tone.

Ok, so much for escaping this with just some scratches...

Seeing that the young man wasn’t all that willing to give an answer, the man in the shadows motion a second time to the goon holding the whip, an order that no one saw but all expected.

Jack had his gaze fixed on his friend. He could tell that Daniel was reading himself to another hit by the way his knuckles were turning white, from the stress the young man was putting on them, as he held tightly the chains bounding him up, taking strength from the steel.

The Colonel and Sam winced together with their friend when the first blow came down.

And the second.

And the third.

Daniel was forcing himself not to go vocal on his pain, wanting to steal that small pleasure from the person behind the whip, not wanting his torturer to find out how much pain he was inflicting.

It sounded stupid even to him, Daniel had to admit that much, but still, it helped him to know that it was still in his hands to prevent them to know the extend of their actions on him.

Not that he could keep it much longer.

And the forth.

And the fifth.

Jack had tried not to look, but the sound of the whip coming down on tender flesh was too loud to be ignored. The sound of chains being rattled, as his friend grabbed them tighter and tighter with each blow, was just as bad as the image of the man that had saved his life more than once, in more ways than the classic, the person that had come closer to being a younger brother than anyone else before in his life, his friend, being whipped to pulp in front of him.

The Colonel could tell by Daniel’s clenched face how much strength he was putting in the simple act of not shouting, as blood and sweat run down his back, the salty water on the raw wounds only adding an extra source of pain as the whip came down once again.

This time though, Jack could see it coming before his ears even registered it, as he saw Daniel reach his continence limit and scream.

And the sixth.

And the seventh.

Sam knew soldiers don’t cry, but sure enough, this one had her eyes full of tears trying to escape.

The sounds that were coming from so near her were like the top ten of horror movies. She could hear everything with an accuracy that she had never known the human ear to possess.

She could hear Daniel’s speeding breathing, disturbed by regular deeper intakes that he never finished, the only sign that he had been hit again. That, and the sound of the whip making contact.

She could hear his chains, being pulled and stretched every time he needed them to support himself. The person behind the torturing instrument, a man, by the force she could sense in each blow, was growing tired. She could hear his speeding breath too, smell his old sweat melting away in new one.

The sounds and smells were becoming clearer, so intense that Sam could almost see everything in detail inside her head. And that was why she could see Daniel’s painfilled face in her mind’s eye almost at the same time as she heard him finally scream his pain out.

Shadow-man raised his hand again, indicating that the masked man holding the whip should take a brake. One last blow, and the man obeyed, leaving Daniel hung limply, supported only by his shackled wrists, as his legs folded, no longer taking in them the weight of his body.

"Dr. Jackson?" shadow-man hushed from his dark corner, trying to access if the man was still with them.

If he was, Daniel pretended that he wasn’t, trying to take a break from being beat up.

One of the goons silently left the room for a second and returned moments later, with a filled bucked of cold water.

"Dr. Jackson?" the man tried again.

As still no answer came back, the man holding the water dumped it unceremoniously down the unconscious man head, causing Daniel to suddenly jerk his head up, gasping for air.

"The symbols Dr. Jackson" shadow-man said, his voice letting everyone know that his patience was running out.

As was their time.

"I ... don’... kno... any... symb’s...." Daniel managed to squeak out between cold shivers and painful air intakes, his head slumping down at the end of the braked sentence from exhaustion.

"Then... maybe we should start again..." shadow-man said, leaving the menace hang in air, not yet giving the order.

"no... pleas... don’ " Daniel said, putting voice to the Colonel’s and the Major’s mental scream.

"You leave me no other choice, Dr." shadow-man said, mocked concern barely covering his cold voice.

"I told’y... I ... don’ kno..." Daniel shouted again, trying to get up on his own legs, as the stress on his stretched arms was only contributing to further open the gashes the he could feel on his wet back.

As it was, shadow-man didn’t let him finish his sentence nor his move to get up, as he ordered the masked man and the bully trusted a sharp knee up to Daniel’s groin, making the man groan in pain and sink back down.

Taking advantage of the prisoner’s lowered head, the same man pushed his elbow back, flying to meet Daniel’s nose, sending his head almost to meet the other man behind with the force of the blow.

As the young man’s head came back, limply hanging against his chest, the blood coming free from his, probably broken, nose, covering part of the sweaty surface, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he had passed out for real this time.

The Colonel’s brown eyes were black with anger and hate as one of the masked men came his way and, putting the blindfold back in place, took him from his guards and shoved him towards the door, almost dragging the man along when he realized that the prisoner was less than willing to leave the place where his friends stood.

"You fucking sons-of-a-bitch!" the Colonel spat out as soon as the gag left his mouth, the sentence that he had intended to shout coming lower then what he had wished, his head turning in the air, not really sure where the said ‘sons’ where.

If only he had one free hand... just one...

A cold back handed blow told him that he said one sentence too much.

"Had fun Colonel?" shadow-man’s voice sounded from near him.

Pointing at chance, Jack’s spit hit him straight in the face, causing the man to stagger back in reaction. Another backhand landed on the Colonel’s face in response.

"I - will - kill - you!" Jack said, slowly and carefully phrasing each word, so that the enraged man cleaning his face understood that it wasn’t a menace but a promise.

And Jack O’Neill always kept his promises.

"You can prevent this from going on" shadow-man teased him, apparently unfazed by the Colonel’s actions and words.

‘Here it goes’ Jack thought deep within his anger.

This is where your mistake comes and bites you in the ass.

"Tell me the symbols now and I wont touch a finger in any of them... be stubborn and the show will go on, I assure you!"

The Colonel growled in the direction of the voice.

"What’s it gonna be?"

"Up yours, asshole!" O’Neill barked, perfectly aware of what his words meant for his friends, but without any real other option in hand.

He just hoped that they could get out of this alive and in one piece large enough for him to apologize to.

"Suit yourself Colonel" shadow-man said, his sentence obviously accompanied by some gestured order, as Jack was once again escorted inside.

Back to the human chess game.

The silent crowded room was getting to her. Sam was tired, exhausted to be exact, hurt and a nervous wreck.

Although on the outside she could still pass on her pose of military ‘though like the rest of the boys’ woman that she had been trained to be, on the inside this all situation was starting to take it’s toll on her.

Daniel had been silent too ever since that last hit, the one where she was sure that she had heard something crack. After that, she had only heard the door open and someone being dragged outside. At first she had thought that they had taken Daniel away, but a soft moan told her that her friend was still in there.

Right now, and although she was worried with him, the Major had another problem in hands.

Or rather, a problem with hands.

And lot’s of fingers.

One of the masked men standing guard to her was, apparently, having some trouble keeping his hands to himself.

At first, Sam had been too engrossed in anger and in the pain of her friend to take notice, but soon the hot touch on her freezing body became too obvious, the man’s fingers feeling like a hot brand burning through her flesh, sending a cold shiver, that had nothing to do with pleasure, from her head to toe.

Trying to flinch away from the unwanted contact, Sam soon found that she was corned, with not much place to go, as her bounded wrists restrained in the spot.

Her unease seemed to get the man more fascinated by his private little game, his touch becoming more audacious, his hands leaving the arm that he had been stroking to travel to her uncovered abdomen, enjoying the smooth surface that he found there, as his hand traveled south.

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

The world we live in is turned upside down. Inside out.

Everywhere we turn we bump in to Human degradation, violence, racism, intolerance, indifference.

Every day we listen about another mother who killed her own son for this or that reason, another bomb that went off, triggered by this or that radical group, because of this or that cause that no one cares anymore, anyway.

Every minute that goes by another homeless man, woman, child appears in your front step, in your street, but you only notice his there because your sidestepping has to be bigger this time… and it keeps growing bigger and bigger.

Then, at some point in time, we stop listening.

We shut our eyes, our ears and our mind to the output this crazy world keeps trying to feed us. We take shelter in our safe shell. Where our life is perfect, where the world is perfect and everything around us is cotton and candy.

There was a time in our history when the nations that were formed until then were facing a cruel and hard life. Everyday of their existence was a fight.

They battled with decades lasting wars, vicious in their brutality, bloodiness and unfairness, they battled incomprehensible diseases, plagues to which they knew no cure, they battled against hunger and poverty, they battled with a natural lack of rules and laws that turned their society in to anarchic and chaotic amounts of population, they battled with obscure groups, many of them with pretended religious foundations, that had obscure agendas and even obscurer methods… they were ruled by people with inverted interests, more preoccupied with their own prospects and future than with the ones that their were suppose to command and guide, closing their ears and mind to the ones that tried, t their lives cost, to warned them about what was wrong and what could be made to make things better…

… We called those days the Dark Ages… sounds more like the evening news, doesn’t it?

So… nothing new so far. We all know that something is seriously wrong around us, but there’s nothing much we can do about it, is there?

We are not in charge of any major (or minor, for that matter) country, we don’t have Bill Gates banks account, we are all anonymous guys and girls, right?

Besides… we have our safe shell where all is cosy and warm. The problem here is that there aren’t enough shells for everybody and that to some, the idea of cosy and warm is equivalent to your idea of a bad day.

But if, and this is a big, big IF here, we were to open our shells just a little bit… I wonder if their room for two there?

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Everything hurt.

A lot.

Lazily drifting back to reality, Daniel’s nerve endings were finally able to deliver the message of pain his back had been trying to send his, so far shut down, brain.

Despite all of his efforts to return to the sweet land of the senseless, Daniel’s eyes fluttered open, letting him see his feet, something that he hadn’t been able to do in awhile.

The blue orbs, myopic by nature, were having a bit of a problem focusing, especially after been deprived of light for so long, but still, he was sure that those were his feet.

Apparently, his blindfold had fallen or had finally been taken off by some one. By the way the piece of cloth was squeezing his brain like a lemon, he could bet that had been the latter rather than the former.

Restless motion beside him shook Daniel out of his babbling thoughts. With more effort than what he remembered being needed to raise his heavy head, he looked in that direction. The scene displaying there quickly took him out of that semi-conscious limbo and full in to awareness.

Sam!

She was standing very near him, almost hanging from the ceiling in a position that pretty much resumed what he was felling, dressed in far less than what he was used to see and having serious difficulty keeping her body away from the greasy hands of the masked pig beside her.

"Arghh..." he said, in what was supposed to be her name but had sounded more like a Neanderthal grunt than the actual word, the large swollen potato that he could feel in the spot where his nose used to be not doing much to help his sore and raw throat in the usually simple act of speaking.

The grunt however, primitive as it sounded, had the desired effect, as the man in question’s attention was momentarily distracted from the half-naked woman by his side to the other prisoner.

As if undecided about where his attention should rest, the big man looked from one hanging body to the other, soon to decide that the woman was more fun to look at and, dismissing the other prisoner as unimportant, made a motion to restart his teasing play.

Sam however, had had enough of his nervous hands and, taking advantage of his divided attention, levered her body and, supported by the chains holding her up, smell guided her bare foot to the abusive man’s face, dwelling in the sweetness of revenge when she felt it solidly collide with the expected surface.

The masked man let out a grunt of his own and was still holding his hurt face between foreigner curses when the door opened again, his boss’s entrance forcing him to seek retribution later.

Daniel, too distracted with the knowledge that the voice had lied to him and that, at least Sam was there too, probably since the very beginning, he realized with a sickening feeling, almost didn’t see as his other missing friend came in, dragged between two big masked man, very similar to the rest of the goons that where still inside the room.

"J’ck" he croaked.

Both the Colonel and the Major turned their blind eyes towards the sound of his voice.

"Daniel... great to ‘see you’ " the Colonel’s sarcastic reply cut a little through the heavy mood that was oppressing everyone inside that cell.

Jack guessed that, since he was the one with the blind on now and Daniel obvious not, the silence rule could be bended too. There was no point in hiding their presence from one another any longer, or so he hoped.

‘The Colonel’s here too’ Sam realized when she recognized the voice of her would-be-comedian CO, his ability to crack a lame joke at the worst of times usually managing to lighten her spirit.

Usually.

Right now, she needed more than lame jokes.

The short exchange of words between the two prisoners was too much for the liking of the goons and two different fists landed on different stomachs, letting them know that it was time to shut up.

Unseen by them, another man crossed the room through the shadows and took his place again in one of the corners.

"Happy to seen your friends Dr. Jackson?" shadow-man’s voice sounded once more, happy to see that the mere sound of his voice was already enough to elicit a shiver from the battered young man.

He had carefully analyzed each of their files, a courtesy of Mr. LaMarq’s associate.

He knew that O’Neill and Carter were military, trained soldiers that, by logic, would present a bigger resistance to his questioning methods and would be more difficult to break, therefore requiring much more work than what he was being paid for.

So, that left the civilian, a linguist and a man dedicated to books rather than military ways. Easier and quicker to take down and get the information he needed.

Someone who, no matter how resisting or strong he might be, would soon be too confuse and frightened to able to form any reasonable thought in his mind, the physical pain and the mental stress twisting and deforming the prisoner’s view of everything around him, including his choices.

Just like he wanted him.

Breakable.

And, while it was clear to him that this prisoner was stupid enough to choose physical pain over answering his questions, he was curious to see if his choice would be equal if the same situation was inflicted on the people he cared for.

Sam shivered when she realized the implications behind the innocent words of their torturer, understanding the game he was playing with them.

None too gentle hands yanked the rag from her mouth, the violent action tearing open her dry lips, the salty, coppery taste of blood letting the Major know that she could use her mouth once again.

The purpose of such action she could only guess at.

"My question remains the same Dr. Jackson... the symbols for the planets that can bear human life, if you please" shadow-man asked, with a politeness that sounded out of place in their situation.

Lazily, Daniel raised his head in the direction of the familiar voice, almost happy that he still couldn’t put a face on his tormentor.

A face always made things worse, at least bad things, he thought. It was easier for him to imagine the face behind that cold voice as some cycloptic monster, with snakes instead of hair rather than a simple man, another human being just like him, only one that was capable of extreme cruelty upon another.

It was not something that he would like to associate with the human race, even though he knew well enough how truly cruel Man could be towards Man.

Besides, the only thing that Daniel wanted right now was to close his eyes and go back to that safe, unconscious state where he had been before. Away from this insane situation that he now realized he could never win.

However, the stubbornness that had always annoyed so much most of the people that he had ever worked with before, allowed a small, strong decision to plant itself inside his mind.

If he wasn’t winning this, then this guy wouldn’t either.

He couldn’t.

"I’ve... told you... before... I know no symbols!" he said once again, this time in a clearly nasal voice.

"Very well" shadow-man calmly said.

This time, Daniel was able to see the whip that had been cutting through his back and, once again he braced himself for the blow to come, even though he knew with a morbid certainty, that a few more hits would lead him to his death.

Closing his eyes and clenching his teeth in a vain attempt to prevent himself from screaming when the whip made its painful contact with him, Daniel didn’t see when the whip cut through the fetid air and made it’s victim.

"Goddamn it!" Jack hissed as the unexpected blow came to rest on his back.

"No!" Daniel cried out, realizing that this time his friends would be the ones on the receiving end of his denials.

Ignoring his protests, Sam was hit next, a strangled moan escaping her lips despite her efforts to keep silent.

"No" Daniel whispered, his gaze traveling from one suffering friend to the other, no longer able to pull the necessary strength to show his anger.

"So?... I’m growing impatient Dr. Jackson" shadow-man said from his dark place, his voice easily showing that that was not a good thing for the prisoners.

The *sshk* of a lighter filled the room and a small red dot came to life, pinpointing the smoker’s location within the dark corner "The symbols?"

Daniel’s sigh came out as a moan when he turned towards the place where he now knew where shadow-man was hidden.

" I told you so... so many times... I can’t... I don’t know any symbols... my job in SGC is not to dial out... I do translations for them, for God’s sake!... How can I know any symbols?" Daniel tried to reason with the man, the only thing real in his speech being the exhaustion in his voice.

He’d been lying for so long, about so many things, that even he wasn’t sure anymore about what was true and what wasn’t.

A deep mad laugh made blood freeze inside his veins.

"Bullshit... You know the symbols I want... and you will give them to me!" shadow-man said, amused by Daniel’s attempt to fool him again.

Another drop of sweat formed itself on the young man’s temple, slowly making it’s way down his face until it joined the others on his chest.

Daniel bitterly realized that this guy knew too much. Too much for him to bluff him any more, as he couldn’t be sure of how far his knowledge went. One lie planted the wrong way... and there would be more pain in store for his friends, pain that was within his power to stop.

Damn it!

His brain was way too tired to make decisions like this, the only choice available up there being to shut down and let his body return to the blissful oblivion where he couldn’t feel his back, his head, the numbness that had settled in his aching arms and hands.

Not the best of times to take decisions where the safety of others was involved!

Time.

It all came down to time. The time that they didn’t have. The time they needed.

He just needed to stall long enough to give Teal’c time to come for them, as he was sure the alien warrior would.

Shadow-man was waiting.

The small red light of the cigar fell to the floor, disappearing under a invisible foot, as the whip split the air once again, resulting in a sharp intake of air from the Colonel and a second one, seconds after, from the Major, as the torturing device hit their backs.

"DAMN YOU!... Why are you doing this?!" Daniel yelled.

"Do you take me for a fool Dr Jackson? Don’t you think I can see your lies as clear as water? I think it’s better for you to start telling the truth, or else..." shadow-man said, leaving the menace unsaid but clear in the air.

The whip found its targets once again.

This time Sam, no longer able to control her pain, screamed out.

Daniel’s entire world turned red for a second.

Damn this man and his sadistic games!

Damn him all the way to hell!

And the worst of his anger was for himself... because he had no idea on what to do to stop this.

This could go on forever.

Him staling and his friends being flogged to a pulp.

The faces of his friends were images that seemed to be burned in to his retinas, still haunting him with pain filled looks even when he closed his eyes.

When Teal’c finally came, there might not be anything more to save.

To a certain point, Daniel was actually surprised with himself for being able to resist this long. When he had heard the theory, the thought alone of ever being under torture was something that had made his skin crawl. But now...

...now he was really afraid.

Not that the situation and all that had happened so far hadn’t scared him, because it had, big time!

But now...

... now he was drawing his last straw.

He was sore, he was tired, he felt, in one word, like shit.

If before he was still hoping, still thinking that they might be able to walk out of this situation, right now the only things he could hope for were much more simple, like a moments release from those chains and the relief of having his arms back in his sockets, even if they killed him right after that.

How low can you get after thinking something like that?

The fate of his friends resting on him, and all he could think of was how nice it would be to put his arms down for a few minutes!

The sadist had placed in his hands the chance of ending his friends suffering. Sam and Jack could be spared of the ache he felt in his back, could be spared the pain and the death’s cold touch that came with every time that whip hit home.

It was in his hands, but his hands were tied.

Literally!

And if he didn’t talk?

Would this guy stay calm forever or would he grow tired of the whip and move on to another torture device, a more effective one?

Jack’s war stories had been pretty graphic about what could happen to a prisoner in enemy hands. Part of it, Daniel reasoned, to shock him enough to take his word seriously. Which he had. Very.

Did he really wanted to take that risk, to allow this insane situation to arrive at a point when it was either an answer or a broken bone in their bodies? Or minus a nail in their fingers? Drugs? Or start burning holes in their...

Daniel backtracked from that line of thought. He was panicking. He knew that. His brain had started to ramble incoherently, and he only did that when he was freaking out.

When he lost his focus.

Focus Daniel!

He could end this right now. It was just a matter of pulling off the ultimate bluff, the one that would stop this nightmare of helplessness.

A way to buy some time... at least for his friends.

He wasn’t the hero type, Daniel knew that much. Never had been, never would be.

What he was was an extremely unlucky guy that often found himself in situations where he would rather be hurt himself than watch the ones he cared for being hurt.

Every single one of his so called ‘brave acts’, that people often attributed him with in his past adventures inside SGC, were merely selfish acts, as contradictory as it might sound.

Each action had come from his deep need of settings things right, his inability to remain indifferent when people were getting hurt around him, and that wasn’t because of him being any hero-type, it was merely because it was the only way he could deal with it.

It had been his first way of real communication with O’Neill, the stranger and the ‘I think you’re a dweeb’ O’Neill of those days. And he had saved the Colonel’s life.

Jack had been all but a stranger to him at that time, but still, Daniel had placed himself between the Colonel and the fatal staff weapon shot.

Because he couldn’t live with himself if he turned his back to that.

The Colonel had asked him once why he had done that, but Daniel couldn’t answer him. At the time, he had just shrugged his shoulders and said that it had been a reflex, a thoughtless impulse. Jack had made one or two wise cracks about it, not buying a word, but leaving it at that.

All because Daniel couldn’t find in himself the courage to tell his best friend that he had saved his life then because he just couldn’t stand and stare as that stranger died.

He had taken that choice once and he now knew that he couldn’t take it again, because the memory alone still hurt too much.

He had watched his parents die, crushed beneath a stone as heavy as it was old, while he stood there, watching as the chains supporting the killer cover stone snapped and buried them.

And he had done nothing.

Of course the shrinks had, countless times, explained it to him, analyzed his reactions with him and made him come to the conclusion that an eight year old couldn’t have prevent destiny from taking it’s course, and he had agreed with them, countless times, sometimes because he truly believed it, at other times just to make them go away. But still, Daniel knew that, on some subconscious level, that trauma was still the trigger that made him jump whenever someone needed help.

So, no, he wasn’t a hero, and the proof of that was that he couldn’t stand this situation any longer.

Jack and Sam were going to be so pissed with him...

"Ok", he whispered, ashamed of his friends listening to his declaration of weakness.

"What was that Dr. Jackson?" shadow-man teased him in a playful tone, recognizing the sound of a defeated man when he heard one.

"I’ll tell you the symbols" he said, his voice growing stronger with determination. He was not backing out now.

"Don’t!"

"Daniel, no!"

The twin shouts rang out through the air as Jack and Sam realized what Daniel was doing, but the young man had already closed his ears to their protests. He had his own agenda now and not even Jack would be able to keep him from following it.

‘Stupid thick headed asshole!’ Jack muttered to himself, as he knew from past experiences that Daniel’s agendas not always had his own well-being in mind.

"Take them back to the other cell" shadow-man ordered, no longer needing the presence of the two officers. He already had what he wanted.

Released from their chains, the Colonel and the Major crashed to the floor and were once again grabbed by the bullies near them.

"Daniel don’t do this!" Jack tried again, his head turning to where he though the other man was.

His protests died away with the distance, as Daniel watched them being blindly lead away, out from his sight, most of the goons going with them

‘I’m sorry’ he silently ask of his teammates, before turning his attention back to shadow-man and the goons by his side, the only ones left in the room.

"Cut him lose" the voice sounded from the corner, as its owner stepped in to the light.

Free from the painful support of the chains, gravity pulled down full force on Daniel’s body and he fell to his knees, dangerously swinging from side to side, on the verge of collapsing, but still, stubbornly remaining upright.

The shoes of shadow-man filled the spot of dirty floor that he had been focusing on, concentrating to stay conscious. Gathering his last droops of strength, Daniel looked up with morbid curiosity to see if his tormentor really was a cyclops monster but the man’s head was in a direct line with the strong lamp in the ceiling.

White spots danced crazily before his light sensitive eyes, momentarily blinding him.

His two personal guards once again forced him to stand so that shadow-man could see him face to face, a face Daniel was finally able to see as his eyes slowly readjusted themselves to the light.

Shadow-man had an insane grin on his lips.

"Remember me?" the older man asked him, lighting another cigar.

Daniel squinted, willing his brain to connect the face in front of him to a name, a situation, something, but to his frustration the only thing he had was a nagging feeling that he had seen him before.

Now, if that had happen when he had gone to the grocery last month or when he had opened a magazine sometime in his life, he couldn’t really tell.

The man that was staring at him, waiting for an answer had the most common face on the earth’s surface, something that probably came in handy in his line of work

"No" he finally answered, giving up.

Fact was, he didn’t give a damn.

The other man took a long smoke out of his cigar before releasing it in Daniel’s face.

"I’m wounded... you don’t remember your own father?" he said, a mocked hurt expression on his face.

Daniel looked at him confused. He knew the man was utterly insane, he just didn’t know how much. Then, distorted images of the same face and some other strange woman started to flash in his head. A car. A field. They were moving. Fast. The stale smell of old and new cigar smoke inside the tiny space. The blurred voices of the man, talking past him, to the woman. A needle. The sharp pain in his arm. Just like Mary. No, Mary was dead. Distorted images blurring and ebbing away after the sting in his arm. Dark.

He remembered.

Daniel’s eyes widened. This was the man that had placed him in Lazarus!

"See... you do remember" the nameless man stepped closer to the prisoner, intentionally invading Daniel’s personal space, letting him have a detailed view of his cruel blue eyes.

The young man tensed as the hand holding the lit cigar approached to even nearer than the man himself, the red-hot tip only inches away from his eyes.

The other man slowly moved the cigar in his fingers, carefully maneuvered it around Daniel’s face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw like a painter traces the fine lines of his master piece, the burning end of the cigar close enough to feel it’s heat.

Shadow-man moved even closer and brought his mouth up to Daniel’s right ear.

"It’s good to know that you remember what happened before, because then I’ll be sure that you will remember what I’m about to say to you now, Dr. Jackson... if you try anything even remotely ‘funny’ in front of Mr. LaMarq..." he said, circling his prey like a killer shark, teasing his victim with the burning cigar, making the young man flinch whenever it came too close for comfort.

Soon, shadow-man’s voice was near his left ear, the cigar gone from his sight but it’s heat still there.

"...if you even think about changing your mind... you will come back right to me" the man said, his voice menacing with the solemn promise that Daniel would pay dearly if he made him look bad in front of his boss.

As if to clarify any point that could of gone misunderstood by the shivering young man in front of him, shadow-man took a moment to carefully analyze the criss-crossed wild red pattern that covered the prisoner’s back. When he found a cut that looked deep and wide enough, he brought his cigar-holding hand and, with a mischievous look in his eyes, pressed it hard against the still bleeding wound.

It took Daniel a good couple of seconds to comprehend that the almost inhuman angst-scream that he was hearing at a distance was actually coming from his throat, but soon enough the complete reality of the blinding pain that had surged through his back came above all the rest, his body unconsciously trying to escape the agonizing contact before completely shutting down.

Shadow-man threw the finished cigar to the floor and carefully put it out with the tip of his polished shoe, watching the slumbered body between the two masked men.

"Take him to Mr. LaMarq" he said dryly, turning his back and leaving the cell.

His job was done.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The floor of his cell was softer now, Daniel absent-mindedly noticed, as his senses started to return from their time out.

It was warmer too, a familiar smell of old books filling the air around him. Opening his eyes, Daniel soon discovered that the sense of claustrophobia that had been tugging him even in unconsciousness was due to the dark cloth that had turned the all world black and that kept getting sucked in to his mouth every time he tried to breathe.

The first instinct of reaching with his hands to take the offending cloth off was cut short by the, once again, bounded wrists. Quickly giving up, his body too tired to be involved in such actions, Daniel eased himself on the floor where he had been dumped.

The burning pain in his back was becoming stronger and stronger with each heartbeat and the rough clothes that he could feel on him were not doing much to ease that particular fact.

"C’est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, Dr. Jackson" // It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Jackson \\, a voice sounded from somewhere in front of him.

‘LaMarq’ Daniel guessed, as he realized that the voice wasn’t from shadow-man anymore. Besides, shadow-man had an American accent, and this guy was speaking in clear French. This voice had a different texture about it too... smoother.

"Je ne peut pas dire autant" // To bad I can’t say the same \\ he hissed, pain flaring from his back full force as he tried to raise himself from the floor.

"Ah alors... your French is quite good doctor" the other man said matter-of-factly, his own English without a trace of accent, "... but pleasantries aside... I believe you have something for me" LaMarq said, going straight to the point.

A businessman to the core.

Daniel swallowed hard past the lump in his throat.

"Ok... but I can’t do it like this" he said, nodding sightlessly at his bound hands.

LaMarq hesitated for a second. If, on one hand he didn’t think that this battered man could be of any threat to him, especially with two of his guards inside the room, on the other hand he didn’t like to see that the prisoner still had enough confidence to demand anything, no matter how insignificant it was.

This intrigued him.

Frank had worked for him often enough in the past few years for LaMarq to know that this man did his job well. And that he enjoyed doing it.

Frank was a master when it came to the delicate art of taking information out of an unwilling mind, very skilled in innumerous ways of breaking the strongest of wills. A true professional.

So, the older man reasoned, either Frank was getting old for his job or this prisoner was too stupid to fully understand his precarious situation, although that was an option that didn’t made much sense to him.

He too had read Jackson's file so he knew the man wasn’t stupid... quite the opposite.

Maybe his stay in Lazarus had had a few side effects?

Mentally shrugging, LaMarq dismissed his thoughts and gave the order to take the hood off the prisoner and release his hands. All that matter now was that he needed those symbols for his plan came to its brilliant conclusion.

"Ouch!" was something Daniel couldn’t control as the cloth was taken from his head, almost taking his ears with it on the way out.

Carefully easing his sore arms back in to their rightful, natural position, Daniel almost cursed out loud when the normal blood stream restarted, propelled by an army of tingling, painful needles in his muscles. Unconsciously, he rubbed his wrist, being able for the first time to really see the damage he had guessed to be there.

A notepad and a pencil had been placed on the floor in front of him.

"The symbols Jackson"

Looking up, as the sound of the man’s voice reminded him that he was not alone, Daniel finally saw the man behind all the shit that had been happening to him.

"LaMarq" he whispered between clenched teeth.

The older man seemed to be flattered by the recognition.

"Ah... so you know me too"

Apparently the fear of being later pointed out by his prisoner as guilty was not something LaMarq suffered from.

Apparently, his prisoner wouldn’t be around long enough to do so.

"Yeah, I know you... from the ‘most wanted’ list" Daniel said matter-of-factly.

The words had barely left his mouth and he was already sorry for having said them, as he noticed the sudden anger that flared through the other man’s eyes.

Maybe this hadn’t been the best of times for his ‘O’Neill impersonation’... even if it was true.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed as he saw the small nod from LaMarq’s almost baldhead.

Strong hands pulled him off the floor.

Standing up made everything hurt a hell of a lot more but the arm going around his neck was fast and strong enough to distract him from any other worries, as the lack of air became the most important worry of all.

Helplessly, Daniel tried to pry the arm from his throat, but the Schwarzenegger goon just strenghted his grip, making breathing completely out of the question.

Gasping for air, he saw as LaMarq slowly rise from his chair and, taking his time, made his way towards him

"Trying to be funny, Jackson?" the older man said in his face, carefully studding it.

It was always such a colorful palette to see someone suffocate. First, the red, the look of fear in the eyes, right before they popped with the pressure. Then, slowly, the blue started to show. From there to white and then gray was just a breath away. A colorful palette indeed.

LaMarq’s face could be very nice to look at, he could even resemble Mickey Mouse for all Daniel cared, but the fact was that the face before him was getting darker around the edges, which was something that, from what he could remember of past experiences, was not good.

As sudden as the grip had come, it was gone. The ground rushed up to meet Daniel as the goon drooped him unceremoniously there.

With his legs under him and his arms supporting the rest, Daniel stood on all four, gulping air back in to his hungry lungs, taking several breaths before he could make his breathing resemble anything normal.

Satisfied that his point had been made, LaMarq turned back to his desk and calmly sat down.

Daniel was still trying to get to his feet when the phone on LaMarq’s desk rang. Reluctantly, the older man pressed a button to hear who was disturbing him at this time, especially after he had left specific orders for that not to happen.

"Oui?" // Yes \\

"LaMarq, it’s me... we need to talk" the voice sounded on the speaker. A familiar voice.

Seeing how the young man on the floor had frozen when he had heard it, LaMarq realized that his prisoner had recognized his partner. He shrugged it off as of no importance, since the young man wouldn’t be around to tell anyone about it. Still, he turned the speaker off and grabbed the phone’s receiver. There was no point in revealing anything further.

"Talk about what?" his voice was clearly annoyed " What latest developments? … No, I haven’t been in much contact with anyone, but I assume that everything is going accord to plan? … What?!" he barked, throwing a dirty look to his prisoner " Ce n'est pas possible! … What went wrong?" he asked in a tone of voice that made the rest of his employees cringe.

Daniel looked up just to be sure that he wasn’t misreading the other man’s voice.

Nope. LaMarq was definably pissed about something and bets were that it had to do with SGC.

And if LaMarq was pissed about it, than Daniel was happy because it meant something had gone wrong.

The man on the desk was not enjoying the information being dumped in to his ears. His face was turning red at an alarming speed and a good imaginative mind could even see the smoke coming out of his ears… and Daniel had a very good imagination.

When their eyes met, the SGC's main anthropologist tried in vain to wipe the smirk off his face, but he was too late… LaMarq had caught him, and his face had turned even redder, the dark orbs spiting fireballs, all aimed at him.

"They did, hum … " he finally spoke again, his voice tight with the effort of trying to hide the anger boiling inside him from his partner, the thin control looking like it would shatter any minute. " Don’t worry about that… they might have won the battle, but victory is very far from their reach" he said as a cold smirk reached up to his lips.

He had one last card to play.

The person on the other end of the line must have agreed with him, as LaMarq nodded and carefully replaced the receiver.

" It seems the rules of our little game have changed Jackson" he said in a quiet voice.

Daniel looked up, not really sure if he wanted to find out what that meant for him and his friends.

"It seems like your dear SGC managed to keep the Stargate a secret for a little longer" he said, the look of relief that crossed his prisoner’s features adding further anger to his already eruptive temper " don’t look so happy Jackson … because if I can’t use the one on Cheyenne Mountain, for now, I can always use the backup one"

‘What is he talking about?’ Daniel thought, the idea that the SGC had made it and was no longer in danger of premature exposure the only thing that he could think right now. However his, too quick for his own liking sometimes, brain instantly understood what the older man was talking about.

He couldn’t know about that too, could he?

"Ah oui… of course I know about the second gate Jackson" he said, seeing the frightened look in Daniel’s eyes " And you are going to tell me where it is"

Daniel was hyperventilating.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

This wasn’t how it was suppose to happen. This wasn’t what he had bargained for.

The all room was spinning wildly. This was worse than anything they could’ve imagined.

He needed something to unbalance this guy’s sense of security… there was no point in trying to deny the existence of the Antarctica gate, LaMarq was too well informed for that… he needed something else…

"Why don’t you ask the good Senator that?" he said, the bold tone of his voice trying to hide his despair.

Unbalance LaMarq. Turn him against his own partner. Make him doubt the cards he held in his hand. Let it out in the open that he knew who else was involved in his plan.

Instead of that, LaMarq laughed.

"I see you know him… good for you, even though you won’t get the chance to use that knowledge…" he said, leaving clear the idea that, as far as he was concerned, Daniel wouldn’t live long enough to see his grandchildren " As for information, well… let's just say that my partner is very restrictive of what he gives me, so much so that I’ve decided to go freelance… if you know what I mean. Besides, I don’t need him to tell me those things… I have you" the older man said, the smirk widening as he caught the shiver that raced through his prisoner’s body " Take him downstairs".

The large man that had been Daniel’s ‘bodyguard’ so far, grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him upright, pulling him towards the door, in to a large hall.

Daniel felt himself travel back in time as he took in the decor.

Medieval, probably fourteen century, armors and other objects adorned the hall, everywhere he turned his head a new feature, even more fantastic catching his eye, some of them, he was sure, pieces that not even museums had access to. Upstairs, between the twin rows of steps leading to the second floor and behind the central stairs, an immense painting of a court scene, displaying the king and his counselors, had that texture about it that told Daniel that it was no imitation… priceless.

"Jean!"

A woman’s voice made all of their heads turned toward to the left set of stairs.

Half expecting to see Queen Margot standing there, Daniel was surprised to find himself looking at a middle aged woman, her modern style of dress seemingly out off place in the rest of that room.

"Querida… que fazes fora da cama?" // My dear... what are you doing out of bed? \\ LaMarq said in a caring tone that, somehow, seemed out of character for him.

The woman, however, was no longer listening to him. Her intense gaze was set on the man trapped between the two bullies, taking in his battered appearance. His face seemed somehow familiar. She just couldn’t connect it with a name.

Daniel was battling the same problem, as the nagging feeling that he had seen that woman before took his brain away from his current situation.

The language sounded familiar too, but he couldn’t place it… that, or he was really tired.

"Que se passa aqui?" // What’s going on in here? \\ she asked, finally diverting her eyes from the young man to the one she did know.

LaMarq was unfazed by the absurdity of the situation, or if he really was embarrassed by the fact that the woman had caught him in it, he was doing a great job of hiding that.

"Não é nada que mereça a tua preocupação... por que não voltas para o quarto e descansas mais um pouco?" // It’s nothing worthy of your attention ... why don’t you go back to the room and rest a little longer? \\ he said, trying to make her go away.

The woman, however, was having none of it. Unsteadily, she approached the men.

"Estou cansada de tanto descanso" // I’m tired of so much rest \\ she said with half a smile.

As she got nearer, Daniel, supported by his ‘side mates’ could now see the paleness of her skin and the dark bags under her eyes. The woman looked terribly ill. She probably was.

The language he was hearing going back and forth between LaMarq and the woman was finally starting to make some sense. He had heard it before… he couldn’t understand it, but he had heard it before.

He could remember the woman now. A picture. The same face, only younger, happier. A child in her arms. His father standing behind them.

Emilia’s mother.

The light must have clicked on in the woman’s head at the same time, as recognition darkened her face.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson" she spat the name, as though it was a word you shouldn’t repeat in front of little kids.

Daniel let his eyes rest on hers.

They were filled with hatred. For him. Why? He didn’t even know the woman other than by a picture.

LaMarq confirmed what she had guessed.

" Sim… é ele" // Yes... it’s him \\ he said, his tone leading everyone to think that Daniel was Hitler’s reincarnation.

Why?

What had he done to her?

"Bastard! … You killed my baby!" the woman spat, changing to a language she was sure he would understand, upset beyond reason but wanting to leave any room for doubts.

No one moved to stop her as she raised her hand and slapped the astonished young man hard, her hand too weak to cause any harm, but the blow strong enough to renew the throbbing pain of Daniel’s broken nose.

The young man was taken aback. What was she talking about?

"Emilia?" he tried to guess.

The single word send the woman sobbing like a wreck in to LaMarq’s shoulder.

Yep… this was about Emilia.

Before he could make any sense about what was happening, the older man gestured behind the woman’s trembling back and silently ordered the guards to take the prisoner away.

The motion, however, had not gone unnoticed by the woman.

" I hope you suffer greatly… before my husband finishes your miserable life!" she said with out even turning to him, her tear-streaked face hidden in the man’s chest, her voice with a coldness that could only come from deep pain and suffering.

Daniel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out as he was whisked out of the hall, leaving LaMarq comforting his sobbing wife.

Too consumed by what he had heard, Daniel barely took notice of his surroundings as his mind raced back and forth through what had happen.

There was no doubt in his head that that woman was indeed Emilia’s mother. But Emilia had told him that her mother had died. How could she…

Alive and married to LaMarq?

That didn’t make any sense.

The woman’s angry words replayed again inside his head ‘Bastard! … You killed my baby … killed my baby … killed’.

Involuntarily, Daniel remembered the day Emilia had died. He had taken her to her car, said goodbye to the woman that had helped them so much in those past days and to the woman that, although lacking the proof, was, in his heart, his sister.

It hadn’t been a real goodbye, it was just supposed to be a ‘see you soon’. She had accepted to work with them and she was supposed to come back.

But she hadn’t. Daniel had only turned his back when he felt the blast of the explosion that had ended her existence.

How could that woman think that he was the one responsible for Emilia’s death?

Snapping back to the present, Daniel warily took notice of the place he had been brought to. The new room was dimly lit but it felt huge. Warm. White stone benches lined the walls, flanking an equally huge pool.

The site of the large amount of water and the isolation of the spot send a shiver through his spine. Although a hot, long, relaxing bath was something that he could use right now, he somehow doubted that his welfare was what was on LaMarq’s twisted mind.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

"Sir… we may have found something!" the Lieutenant’s voice broke through the older officer’s concentration, as Hammond analyzed the data in front of him.

"Report" he said calmly.

"The USAF satellite just did a pass over Scotland and came out with this, Sir" he said, handing a computer print to his commander.

The General looked at it carefully. It never ceased to amaze him the amount of detail that a satellite could provide about Earth from so high above. In his early days, the paper he was holding now would have been nothing but a blur.

The image had been greatly enhanced, enough to let him have a clear view of two large man dragging a half-naked third body inside a house.

"My God!" he let out between his breath " Any idea who it might be?" he asked the Lieutenant.

"No, Sir… I mean, it looks like a man, but the head is covered so, unless LaMarq uses this place to hide more prisoners than SG1, it can only be Dr. Jackson or Colonel O’Neill…" Simmons said, wondering if he had theorized too much when the General was pressing him for facts.

"Very well" the older man said, oblivious to the man’s unease, too busy pushing his personal feelings about the prisoners aside to take notice of that " How many teams do we have on-world?"

"All, Sir… the first team scheduled to go off-world isn’t due to depart until tomorrow morning, Sir"

"Good…" the General said, lining back on his chair, thinking. His plan formed quickly, at the speed of his hand, steadily taping the point of his nose. "Contact SG teams 2,3,6 and 8 and tell them to proceed to this location. I will give them the rest of the mission’s details on the way there"

"Yes, Sir" the young man said, speeding to carry out the received orders, he too eager to get the missing team back.

Hammond stopped him.

"Has Teal'c been informed about this already?"

"Yes, Sir… he was there when we catch this image. He's waiting for your orders, Sir, and ready to go"

"Very well. We move in two hundred hours… let’s go people, we have a rescue mission on our hands!"

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Daniel was still trying to make some sense of the latest events when LaMarq arrived.

"You have upset my wife very much Jackson" the older man said.

Daniel raised his eyes to the newly arrived man.

"After all, it isn’t every day that you get to see the murderer of your only child" he said, in a tone that almost jokefull.

Daniel was totally lost. " I didn’t… " he started, the idea that he had killed that woman sounding so absurd to his ears that, even though he didn’t give a damn about what LaMarq thought about him, he felt the need to deny it.

"Oh… I know you didn’t… but she doesn’t" he said, his eyes pointing him to where the woman must be, up in her room. "Now, Dr. Jackson… You know what I want from you, and we both know that I’m going to get it, sooner or later… why don’t you be nice to me and make that sooner?" the older man said, abruptly changing the subject, his will to brag about whatever knowledge he had on that matter apparently over as other things more urgent pressed their way through.

The abrupt change in the conversation made Daniel’s head spin.

Was LaMarq really expecting him to give the location of the second gate to a low life form like him?

Even though he was forced to acknowledge that every human body had its limit for pain and abuse, and God knew how close he was to his limit, he also knew that some things were worthy of some sacrifices.

And this time the ball was in his court.

If LaMarq and people like him managed to gain access to the Stargate and other alien technologies that they had come across during their travels over the past few years, not to mention some civilizations, who knew what could happen.

They would rapidly ruin all the alliances that SGC had worked so hard to gain to Earth’s side.

And imagine what this sort of men would do if they met other civilizations like the symbiotic plant-men? Or the people of the Land of Light?

Who knew what could happen to those simple people if LaMarq saw in them a profitable source of money making… it would be like letting another Goa’uld in to the yard to play with all the other snakes.

Too much was at stake here. If he gave up and handed LaMarq the location of the second gate, taking the chance of the man having access to some addresses, the damage would be more than what they could afford, even if SGC made their priority capture LaMarq’s future teams.

So, if to keep Earth and a big chunk of the universe safe, a ‘few’ sacrifices were in line for him, how could he turn his back to the responsibility?

LaMarq realized, by the lack of answer from his prisoner, that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted the easy way.

Motioning for the two guards to take off the robe he had lent the young man, so that his filthy wouldn’t ruin his eighteen-century carpet, he patiently watched as they secured his hands behind his back once again.

" Very well… but don’t come later saying this was my fault, because this is what you chose, Dr. Jackson" he said, almost sounding like he was really sorry by the position his prisoner was imposing him to take.

Side stepping the bound man and the two goons, LaMarq let them pass to the pool’s edge.

Shoving the prisoner to his knees, one of the guards placed a foot on Daniel’s back, painfully forcing him down on his stomach until his head was only inches above the water.

A brisk comment on how thirsty he was, but how he would rather drink water from a glass than from a pool crossed Daniel’s mind, but this time he shut his mouth in time to keep it to himself. His last smart remark still hurt.

Besides, he wasn’t Jack. He couldn’t take sarcasm to all situations and cope with them in that form… especially when he was scared shitless!

The foot was replaced by a pair of strong hands holding his legs in place and moved to the back of his head. Just a small pressure from the foot and Daniel’s head would be underwater.

Even though he had guessed that much, the sudden impact of his position, the knowledge that his life was ion the hands… well, feet, of this people and the fact that water was all that he could see from where he was standing was all that took to take his breathing in to uncontrolled fields, his rapid intake of air a sure sign of a full panic attack.

Drowning to death was not pretty.

And panic wasn’t the best way to control breathing in an environment where only very few mammals could breath. Especially since Man wasn't among them.

Before he had any time to get his breathing under control, the invisible order was given and his head was under water, all sounds muffled to his ears and frantic bubbles filling his field of vision.

LaMarq calmly watched from above the struggling man, realizing that water was already going inside the man’s mouth, no bubbles left to judge the amount of air that the prisoner could still have.

Ordering the foot to release its pressure, the drowning man’s head quickly jerked out of the water, desperately gasping for air and spitting water.

LaMarq had to be careful. He needed this man alive for now.

Allowing him time just enough to take a gulp of air back in to his lungs, the older man ordered the foot to take its place once again, sending Daniel’s head back in to the water, the small amount of air that he had managed to suck in rapidly escaping him and leaving the young man wishing for gills once more.

‘Oh God! … I swear… If I get out of this alive I promise I won't give Jack's head any more greys!'

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

The sun calmly took its course, gently setting behind the western hills, its last rays dropping like strings of silver over the quiet lake.

A soft scent of wet grass rose from shore, where water kissed land, as a late and lonely bird chirped at a distance, frightened by the rustling of trees leaves, their green growing darker with the disappearing light.

The frightened bird was quick to fly away as soon as it spotted the intruders to its peaceful dwelling.

The two large and black birds that passed over the bird's tree, seconds after that, seemed out of place among the green earth and blue sky. It's presence, even thought strangely silent, disturbed the other inhabitants of the surrounding trees, filling the clear sky with flighting birds, running away from the giant paddles that kept the human-made black birds cutting through the sky.

Inside the two helicopters, the eager soldiers steadily readied their gear as their destination drew closer.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

LaMarq watched as his men pulled the nearly unconscious man from the water for the third time.

Lying on the cold stone gasping for air, the precious gas that his lungs had been starving for, Daniel’s mind absently wondered if he was going to be sick again. Maybe this time he would succeed in throwing his vomit over LaMarq’s imported shoes and not the floor like last time.

As for the older man, he was slowly starting to realize that this information was going to be very hard to pull out of his prisoner, the man lying soaked on the floor, whizzing in gulps of air, but still refusing to open his mouth.

The fool was proving to be more resistant that what he had given him credit for.

Failure, however, was not an option.

Maybe he should call Frank… he was the real expert about this sort of things.

He needed to know where the second gate was as much as he needed the addressees. With out both, his plans would be ruined.

But failure was not a word that LaMarq kept in his vocabulary.

Gesturing for the two waiting guards to pick the prisoner up, the old man waited until Jackson was pinned between the big men and one of the stone pillars that stood around the pool.

"Alors… are you ready to give me the gate’s location now?" he asked once again, taking in the appearance of the man in front of him.

If he wanted something out of him, he needed to move fast. Even wet, he could see the sweat already forming in the ashen face of the young man, tremors of cold fever and exhaustion racking the black and bluish body.

Daniel sluggishly opened his eyes a crack, gracing the other man with a small portion of reddened blue eyes, "Fuck… you!" he finally said, giving in to the luxury of taking a deep breath.

The last time Daniel remembered using a word like ‘fuck’ in his vocabulary, had been a long, long time ago.

As a linguist, he understood the use of that part of a language, and it had even been fun to learn several such ‘words of choice’ in the different languages that he knew, but still, he prided himself for not swearing.

But, right now, of all the thousands of words that existed, that one was the only that he thought would be appropriate to the man in front of him.

He wanted to hurt this man, he wanted to hurt him back in any way he could, and right now, his mouth was the only thing he could use.

It would be a small comfort to, at least, hurt the man’s ears.

The comfort, however, was short lived, as an angry LaMarq thrust his arm in to Daniel’s throat and slammed him hard against the pillar, satisfied that, even at his old age, he could still elicit such a pain filled groan from a much younger man.

However, even though this could be fun, he had pressing matters on hands and it was time to change tactics.

"Amenez-moi O’Neill et la femme… and get Frank over here too!" // Get me O’Neill and the woman… \\ he said to the goons, trusting that the man in front of him was weakened enough to present no threat to him as the guards left, leaving them alone, "Tell me Dr. Jackson" he said, looking paternally to the man that, with out the support of the goons had slumped to the floor once more, remaining seated against the pillar, "How do you think your Colonel will feel if we turn him in to a eunuch?" he asked, crouching in front of his prisoner so he could level his stare with the other man’s eyes.

The eyes staring back at him widened in fear.

"Ever seen a man bleed to death? … I guess you haven’t… let me tell you… it’s not a pretty site!" he went on, seeing that his words were having a deeper impact on the young man than the pool’s water had had, " Do you really believe that keeping this Stargate hidden is of more importance than the lives of your friends? Do you think your friends will be as willing as you are to give up their lives for that purpose? Do you think they are fools like you?" he kept on assaulting the battered man’s will, seeing it starting to crumble before his eyes, " Think Jackson… do you think the Major will appreciate you and your antique sense of honor when we take her reproductive organs from inside her and display them on the floor in front of her?" he said, each word carefully and slowly spoken, giving the young man time to picture the atrocities he was describing in his mind.

Daniel was turning green and greener with each word.

"I guarantee you Dr. Jackson… the blood of your friends will be on your hands as you will watch them slowly being turned inside out… mutilated, cut in to tiny pieces right in front of your eyes… I will only stop cutting when you start talking!"

Daniel couldn’t help it any longer. More out of force of habit than anything else, he turned his head to one side and throwed up. Water and bile. The only thing he still had in his stomach.

"You… you wouldn’t… do… that" he said in a false bravado, his head leaned against the pillar, for support, as he closed his eyes again, trying to prevent the world from spinning so fast around him.

"Oh my boy" LaMarq laughed in his face, "you have no idea what I’m capable of!", he older man’s face lightened, like he had just had a brilliant idea, "Tell me… did you enjoy the blast?" he said all of a sudden.

Daniel looked at him, puzzled, taken aback once again by the abrupt change of subject.

"Bla… ast?"

"Yes… the one that took your sister" the older man said, a smirk of triumph passing his lips, his dark eyes flaming like Nero’s, watching Rome burn.

Daniel gasped. "Wha… what?!"

"Let me tell you a story Jackson… it will entertain us while we await the company of the Major and the Colonel" the man said, getting up and starting to pace around the pillar, "Once upon a time there was this cute Brazilian young woman and her baby girl, both abandoned by an American archeologist, an action that neither of them ever forgave the man, as they discovered that they had been switched for an American family, another woman and a baby boy.

The woman grew old and the baby in to a beautiful and intelligent young woman and they moved to the US, where I met them… and married the mother.

While this enchanting story was taking its course, a secret group crossed upon your Stargate program, a couple of years before you became involved with it, and started to make plans to take it out of military hands.

Sometime between there and now, this group and I crossed paths and, imagine my surprise when I realized that I had inside my own house a wonderful ticket to get inside that secret little world that you’ve created around yourselves… the lost sister of one of the names that kept popping up on the project’s files… the sister of the infamous Dr. Daniel Jackson!" he said, absolutely absorbed by his story telling and by the way the young man was looking stricken at the mention of his family.

Neither saw the dark figure lurking in the shadows, listening to the same story.

"You can’t imagine how easy it was to convince her to help us, given how much she hated you" LaMarq went on, seeing the hurt look that crossed Daniel’s eyes, "Oh, believe me, she hated you. She had always blamed you for stealing her father from her, so when we came to her and offered the chance to find you and destroy all that you’ve been working in… unfortunately it seems that her heart had softened along the way, making her too unpredictable for our plans… when she told me that she thought you were actually good guys, I had no other option but to take her out of the… equation" he said, the regret in his voice too theatrical to be real.

"You bastard!" Daniel tried to yell, but his throat not allowing more then a pathetic grunt.

LaMarq had been behind all of that! It seemed so unreal.

He had known that Emilia was his sister and he had used her to get what he wanted. He had used that knowledge and the woman’s old wounds to make his plans work! And when she had realized what he was doing, he had simply disposed of her, like some… like some… "You killed her!" he let out, his voice dripping with anger and hatred for the old figure in front of him.

LaMarq got closer to the fuming man, his despair and wild emotions on display only serving to feed his ego.

"Oh yes Jackson… I ordered her death, but not before I erased all traces of her ever existing" he spat in the other man’s face, seeing how all of the energy that the young man had left was being turned in to white, blinding anger.

His voice softened and his eyes got a tender look in them, something that seemed almost impossible in those dark pools, as the mad man tried his best to look sad. "Her poor mother’s heart was broken… still is. She couldn’t make her self believe that her only child was dead… killed by the son of the man that she had loved so much. You see Dr. Jackson, I couldn’t tell her that I had killed her daughter, so, who better to take the blame then you, who she already hated anyway… too bad all that hatred is leading her to her grave… but that’s the natural course of things for the weak ones, I guess…" the man all but sighed, talking about the woman that he has seemed so caring for just moments ago.

"Do you know what she made me promise before I came here?" he said in a conspiring tone and getting even closer, intentionally invading his personal space, " she asked me to kill you… she made me promise that I would end your miserable life… in the most painful way that I could come up with" he whispered in Daniel’s ear, "… and she knows how terrible are some of the things that I can come up with!"

Daniel wanted to spit in the man’s face.

LaMarq was completely insane. He already knew that much… now he knew how far.

The man used the persons closest to him to assure his plan’s success, anything to get what he wanted, no matter the cost.

And he had killed his sister.

Daniel didn’t care that she had come to SGC initially with plans of ending their business and destroying the program, that she had lied.

He didn’t care that, at one point, she had hated him.

She had trusted her heart to him in the end and she was ready to come to his side… a decision that had gotten her killed.

And her mom… another victim of the cruel man. Emilia had lied about her, telling him that she was already dead. She was married to the man that had killed her daughter and she…

… and she was just on the other side of the pool, pointing a gun to LaMarq’s back, her tear covered face telling him that she had heard all of LaMarq’s confession.

She had searched the whole house, looking for the gun that she knew her husband kept for personal use. She wanted to kill her daughter's murderer with her own hands, so she had gone downstairs. To get revenge.

Instead, she had discovered that half of her life was based on a lie and that her worst enemy shared her bed.

And her target changed.

"Filho de uma puta!" // Son of a bitch! \\ she yelled, going finally over the edge of her sanity and pulling the trigger.

The old man had no time to react, his head turning to the sound of the woman’s voice and his eyes widening in true fear as the gun burst to life.

Daniel’s mind had only time to realize that LaMarq’s body was too close to his own when the woman’s scream and the gun shot throbbed through the large room.

The sound and the blinding pain arrived to him almost at the same time.

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

‘Life has a funny way of helping you out’… isn’t that what Alanis Morissette said in one of her songs?

Well, it does. Don't you think?

Life has that unique way of slapping you down, just when you were so confident that something would work out right, to pull the carpet from under your feet and unbalance everything, just to see what would take to make you fall. Then, on other times, life comes along and lends you a hand when things were falling apart and you were just starting to think that everything was lost. Either way, you never know which way it turns.

Very funny indeed.

A game in which you are toss in to since the day you are born. No rules explained. No spare lives to try again.

And yes, some people do die when their lives were just about to turn perfect.

And yes, some people do manage to rush to get somewhere in time, just to latter find out that it is the wrong place to start with.

And yes, sometimes it really rains on the day that you had just whished the sun to shine

Does that make life unfair? A bitch, like some call it?

Or is it just about luck?

Fate?

Maybe it’s those three little old ladies from Greek mythology, each holding a line and a scissor, capable of deciding every human fate on Earth, grasping our mortal lives in their fragile little hands.

Fragile… life is fragile.

It takes so very little to end it, and it takes such a great effort to keep it going and declare it fulfilling.

Is that constant struggle worth it?

Of course it is!

Why?

Well, as some one else would say '…because!'.

Because of the uncertainty of it.

Because Man is, by nature, a curious animal.

Because you never know if the next turn of the roller coaster is going to be up or down.

And because Man is always curious to find out.

And because everybody hurts… and everybody cries… REM, right?

Truth is, we bounce back, one way or the other, we manage to come around that proverbial corner, we always find out which way the roller coaster goes, for better or for worse.

And every time we come back, every time we go through a new trial, we return stronger, our will to keep playing this wild, ruleless game grows more solid, fitter to keep fighting. Its not about the surviving of the fitter, its not about Darwin's natural selection theory… this is only about seeing who's standing in the end.

And even if the battle is in glory… it still feels right to keep on fighting.

Because the game isn’t over yet.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

"Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!" Jack started again, pacing around the small cell.

Not even the pain in his back could persuade him to keep still. In fact, the pain only brought another thought to his mind, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Colonel… please" Sam said from her seated spot by the wall "can’t you stay put? You’re making me dizzy just from watching" she said truthfully, pulling her knees closer to her face and hugging them.

"Sorry" the man half breathed out, throwing unceremoniously his battered body to a piece of dirty ground next to her.

After they had been taken away, the guards had left the Colonel and the Major in the same cell, apparently pleased enough with the latest results to further bother with them, alone or together no more a fraction of the equation they were playing.

The blindfolds had also been taken out, for the first time allowing the Major to actually see her commanding officer , but their hands remained secured behind their backs, leaving them nothing more to do but gaze the monotonous gray walls of their prison and the solid door that cut freedom away.

Freedom and their teammate.

They had been arriving to the cell when they heard the scream. Daniel’s scream.

The deepness of the sound had frozen blood in their veins. Neither had ever heard anything like that make it through the young man’s mouth. Not when Apophis guards had shot him in the would-be god’s ship, not even when the whip had hit his back for the one time too many.

And that was what was scaring them more than they would ever admit to one another.

Sam, just like the Colonel, was being eaten alive by her worry, by the visions of what could have elicited such a sound from Daniel. As time went by with no other sound being heard, the visions had just gotten worst.

"What do you think its happening?" she finally asked in a whisper.

She no longer cared if they were heard or not. She didn’t even cared if the worry and dread were making her voice tremble. Right now, she only needed that her commanding officer, that her friend assured her that everything would be fine, that Daniel would be fine.

Jack looked at her, the officer’s look gone and the friend taking over.

"I don’t know" he leveled with her, perfectly aware that those were not the words she needed to hear, but also knowing that anything else would have sound fake in his lips. "Damn that guy!" he burst out, starting his pace again, no longer being able to contain his worry and anger in a seated position.

The Major didn’t have to ask whom he was talking about. They both knew that Daniel had given up for them, so that they could be spared, so that there would be time for them, time for Teal’c to come.

He had gone and played the knight-in-shiny-armor stunt again and the Colonel was mad as hell with him because of that

She would be too, as soon as she saw that Daniel was safe.

The Colonel knew Daniel would tell LaMarq nothing. Zipp. Nada. He knew just how stubborn that guy could be when he wanted to, and he should know it, after all the times that he had experienced that stubbornness first hand, sometimes more than what his patient was prepared to handle. Problem was, LaMarq didn’t struck him as being a patient guy and that meant that either Daniel had a pretty good plan or he …

"Damn!"

How could a smart guy like that totally miss the point? Didn’t he understand that it wasn’t worth it? Yeah, sure, he had got them a little more time with a lot more heath to spare, in the faint hope that Teal’C might come and rescue the damsels in distress… but at what cost?

His life?

"Damn you!"

"Sir…" Sam tried to stop that particular train of thought, but the sound of the door opening once more cut through her words.

The optimist part of their souls hopped that Daniel would come through that door, but their wishes were crashed when only the familiar masked thuds came in.

"Well you motherr fuckerrs… seems like you afe reeached the end uf yo pity lines" one of them snarled to the prisoners, his accent distorting English to a point of barely intelligibleness " but first…" he said motioning for three of his partners to grab the man, while he and another went for the woman.

Jack was quick to recognize the situation for what it was… not good!

Reading himself for the approaching goons, the former black operations specialist, the Air Force officer, the commander of the number uno team and strike force against all barbarians at the proverbial gate, was soon subdue and was now facing the floor, pinned down by the stronger men, in what had been his shortest fight ever.

The Major on the other hand, was facing a few problems of her own, seeing all her attempts of defeating the two attackers going down the toilet too, overcome by the tiredness and soreness of her body more than by the untrained goons.

Shoving the woman to the ground, one of the men grabbed her shoulders to pin her down, her hands trapped behind her back, while the other placed himself on top of her legs, making sure that her knees wouldn’t find their way towards more sensitive areas of his anatomy.

Through her desperate struggle to shrug the men off of her, Sam barely took notice as the man in front of her took his mask off, revealing a bearded face and a left eye supporting a nasty shiner.

"Regard ce bitch! Take a good look!" he yelled, grabbing her chin and forcing the woman to look at his face, "see ça?" he asked, pointing to his blackened eye "no pute does this to moi et walks free" he said, the expression in his small eyes making Sam’s stomach rebel

Lust and anger. The animal kind.

And in this particular case, associated with revenge. This was the guy that she had formerly known as the ‘problem with hands’… the one that she had blindly kicked before. She had been lucky that time. She couldn’t see how luck could help her this time around.

"Get … off… me… you sonofabitch!" the Major growled, throwing a stronger pull of her hips, the raising panic given her the extra strength to momentarily unbalance the man.

"Be still pute!" the man yelled, sending his large hand to strongly meet her face, slapping her once, twice...

Stars danced in front of Sam’s eyes, the combined force of the blows and adrenalin rush racing through her body and shacking every muscle out of her control.

On the bridge of unconsciousness, she could feel blood oozing from her nose and reopen lip.

Taking advantage of the slight daze that he saw on the woman’s unfocused eyes and the momentarily hampered struggles, the goon tried to get her legs, that the Major had tightly pressed against one another, open, while he clumsily fought with his own pants fly.

The Colonel, from his front seat of the displaying scene, was shouting beyond his lungs capacity every dirty word that he could filter off pass the red that was darkening his vision. The bully-men had finally managed to get him restrained, with one of them seating himself on top of the Colonel’s back, and were now, in a far too enthusiastic way, watching their partner’s performance.

As for Jack, things had, at some point, started to get to him in slow, slow motion, in a crazy upside down kaleidoscopic view where everything went wrong and he was helpless to prevent it, where all his doubts about the goon’s stories became reality, right in front of his eyes… somewhere where the screams of the Iraquian raped women mixed with angry expletives from Sam.

His long military career had often proved to him that life is indeed a big bitch, a wild and crazy ride with no seat belts to secure you in place, and from which many fall down. His military life had soon taught him that miracles and last minute rescues were things that existed only in fairy tales and Hollywood movies.

So, it was a big surprised for the pessimistic Colonel when the door of their cell was violently pull out of its gills and a mean looking group of marines flooded the room, shouting words that he really couldn’t hear past the thundering in his ears.

In less than a second, Sam’s attackers were off of her and under a couple of solders, that having realized what the goons had in mind for the Major, were having a special delicacy in manhandling those prisoners, no one in that room worried about the fact that the large and heavy hands of the soldiers kept slipping from their control and in to the prisoners faces.

The goons seated on top of the Colonel had been quick to realize that this was a fight that they weren’t going to win and had voluntarily raised their hands and kneeled facing the wall, trusting the fairness of the soldiers to not just come behind them and blow their heads off.

"Sir!… Sir!"

Jack looked dazedly to the face of the uniformed young man in front of him, pulling him to a seated position.

"Sir… are you hurt?" he tried again, his hand carefully resting on the older man’s dirty shoulder, calling him back to reality.

Jack looked at the man, puzzled. He had seen the young man before, hadn’t he?

Oh, yeah… Lieutenant Sparkz… he had joined SGC about three months ago, hadn’t he?

Yeah, he remembered that.

"Colonel?" another voice came from behind the young man. Ferreti.

"O’Neill… you ok?"

"I’m fine" he finally said, snapping back to the here and now "help me up".

"We’ll have those cuffs out in a flash, Jack" Luis Ferreti, one of the last survivors of the first Stargate journey said, patting the Colonel’s shoulder in that ‘good to have you back with us’ gesture that the two of them were more than familiarized with.

Ignoring the young man that was fumbling with his cuffed hands, Jack searched the crowded room for ‘his’ Major, finding her already up, flanked by two soldiers, her too being helped out of her cuffs. Someone’s jacket had found its way to her naked back, the black of the ‘special operations’ issue cloth doing a sore contrast with Sam’s pale and shivering body.

Jack made his way towards her, dragging Sparkz along with him.

"You alright?" he whispered to her, as if the room had suddenly voided of the ten or so soldiers around them, his tone carrying all the other questions that he didn’t wanted to voice.

"I’m…" she started, her face flushed and her fingers, now free, distractively combing her dusty hair, "I need to do something" she said in a detached voice, slowly limping to the place where her would-be attacker was, under heavy guard by a couple of soldiers that looked ready to give the man a full dental treatment. No anesthetic included.

The prisoner looked at her, his previous look of lust and superiority replaced by one of deep, deep fear.

The Major took a long, analyzing look at the man, measuring up his weasel features, his cropped hair, the half closed blackened eye.

Taking her turn in invading the goon’s private space, the Major placed her hands on his shoulders in a seductive and teasing way and stepped even closer, trying not to puke in the man’s face as his putrid smell assaulted her nose again.

"Remember this" she whispered with her mouth only inches away from the man’s " every time you try to use that little piece of shit you’ve got between your legs for anything else than pee" she said as, using his own shoulders as a lever, the Major thrusted her knee up and hard against her would-rapper’s groin, with a strength that made all the men inside that room flinch.

And then grin. That was the Major Carter that they knew.

"Feeling better?" Jack asked her, a smile playing in his lips.

"Oh, yeah… feeling fine now, Sir", she said, her face bruised but at peace now.

"There you go Sir" Sparkz said, taking the opportunity to take the Colonel’s cuffs off.

"Great timing guys… great timing" the Colonel said, thanking everyone that had come for them. There was just one more thing missing… not a thing… someone.

"Where’s Daniel?" he asked.

The lack of response from everyone he looked at made the smile disappear from his face.

"We’ve search all the cells around here, Sir, but Dr. Jackson was nowhere to be found Sir" Ferreti finally told him.

Once again the deep worry found its way to recently freed prisoners…

"Daniel Jackson is being held in the main house" a deep and strong voice cut through the darkening moods.

"Teal’c!" Jack and Sam met their missing teammate with relief in their voices.

Having been reported that the young man was not with the rest of SG1 nor inside that building, it was easy for the alien man to realize that the dragged man they had saw in the satellite photo was Daniel Jackson.

As for his current location, a recent ‘acquaintance’ of the Jaffa had been rather enlightening in providing it.

Teal’c stood at the cell entrance, a man supporting a bleeding nose held tight in his grasp.

"Let go of me!" the man blasted from the vice-like grip that the bigger man was imposing on his arm, "you’ll all be very sorry for this!"

Rubbing his raw wrists, the Colonel looked at Teal’c’s prisoner carefully. He’d never seen his face before, but he sure as hell knew that voice. He had memorized it, imprinted it in blood in his mind. A voice he had promised to silence.

Shadow-man.

"You bastard!" he said before launching two hands around the man’s neck "what have you done to him?" he asked through clenched teeth, squeezing the neck between his hands.

He wanted to take his life. Right there. Right now.

Shadow-man’s gaze met his, unflinching.

"Who? Your Doc buddy’" he all but snarled in the Colonel’s face.

Jack’s hold got tighter.

Gasping for a breath, Shadow-man lost his superior pose in seconds, at the velocity of his last atoms of oxygen.

"I’ve done nothing to him" he said, feeling the Colonels grasp soften, allowing him to go on "nothing compared with what LaMarq will do to him" he finished, the sadistic smirk finding its way back to the man’s face.

Broken teeth and a mouth full of red liquid wiped the smirk out of shadow-man’s lips.

Teal’c quietly observed the bitter exchange between the two men. He now understood that this man was not just one of LaMarq’s men, as he had first assumed, but that he was most possibly the responsible for the battered and bloodied looks of his friends. A new and important fact that made him sure that, if O’Neill’s fist hadn’t find its way to the man’s face, his would have.

"Consider this nothing… compared with I’ll do to you if anything has happen to Jackson!" Jack said with a predator’s look in his eyes, "Get him out of my face!" he said, quickly making two soldiers jump in to action and grab the prisoner to take him out.

"How’s the situation out there?" he asked Ferreti.

The SG2 leader snapped in to attention.

"We’ve taken out the guards from the gate to here. The rest of the property is being searched as we speak and a small patrol as been sent to watch the main house, Sir"

"Big place, hum?" Jack figured.

"Very big… the main house its some good 3 clicks from here, Sir"

"Let’s get moving then!" Jack commanded, figuring it was more than time to end this game.

Teal’c was still at the door, not bulging from his position.

The Colonel looked at the big man with a ‘what?’ look on his face.

"O’Neill… it is best for you and Major Carter to stay here… you are in need of medical attention and both of you would not be of assistance in the rescue of Daniel Jackson" he said bluntly, straight to the point, painfully stating what was obvious to everyone except the two SG1 officers.

Jack stopped reacting and started thinking. They were right. Even with the adrenaline rush from their rescue, he and Carter were not fit for such a mission, as much as they wanted and needed it.

It was time for him to start behaving like the command officer that he was.

Nodding his agreement with Teal’c’s words, he stepped back and, casting a look his second in command way, asked her to do the same, both stood watching as the Jaffa and the rest of the soldiers went in search of the last member of SG1.

Carefully stepping outside the warehouse where they had been held, Jack and Sam gratefully took the warm blankets that one of the soldiers left behind gave them, squinting at their surroundings.

The landscape that greeted them was breath taking.

They had just been through hell in the middle of paradise. In every sense of it.

"Well Dorothy… this ain’t Kansas anymore!" the Colonel whispered, mesmerized by the sight.

Around them Nature seemed untouched, left virgin after all this years. The large lake that could be seen behind the warehouse breathed life, as birds flew up and down, back and forth through its banks, disturbing the quiet bushes and indigenous plants that fought for a piece of earth where they could blossom and live.

On the other side of the lake and to their left the woods stood silent and imposing, ancient trees spreading their branches and hiding the evening sky and the first stars with their wide leaves. Up ahead, the main house and the tell tale of distant hills could be seen, all arranged and still, Mother Nature’s poetry waiting to be painted and become immortal.

"You’re right Sir" Sparkz said from behind them, trying to hide the grin the Colonel’s comment had produced.

"Hum?"

"This ain’t Kansas Sir, it’s Forfar" the Lieutenant said with a smile.

"Come again?"

"Forfar, Sir… Scotland" the man explained.

"We’re in Scotland?!" Sam asked surprised. It had never crossed her mind that LaMarq could have undertaken the trouble of actually taking them out of the States, but then again, the man did own a traveling agency, didn’t he?

"Is that the place?" Jack asked the younger man, pointing to the big house outline that they could see against the darkening horizon.

"Yes Sir, it is" he said, the expression in his face sobering as the subject did.

The two SG1 members stared at the fading silhouettes that they could only guess to be Teal’c and the rest of the soldiers. Soon they would be at the house that still hold their friend prisoner.

Soon it would all be over.

Soon.

‘Just a little longer Daniel… just a little longer’ Jack wished in silence.

"We’ve brought a medical unit Sirs… if you’ll come with me" the Lieutenant shyly tried to maneuvered them.

"In a minute Sparkz… in a minute" Jack said, not taking his eyes from the house.

The young Lieutenant’s luck wasn’t better with the Major, as Sam too dismissed him and the medical care, even though her brain kept telling her that her ankle needed to be taken care of. Still, her heart would not let her move an inch from that place, her eyes refusing to drop sight of that house cut in to the horizon.

Neither was leaving, they couldn’t, not until they knew what fate had been reserved for their friend.

And he better be alive, or they would kill him.

The local police car parked ten feet between the three of them and the warehouse, its rotational blue lights tearing their gaze away from the distant house.

Two large officers came out from the front seats to join the other that stood, waiting for them near the back of the car, the back doors open, waiting.

From the building, almost engulfed by the surrounding darkness, the police car lights shined upon the line of six prisoners that were coming out, escorted by SGC troops.

The Colonel and the Major attackers, plus shadow-man.

Their grim faces, in the blue light, gained a ghostly appearance, not looking so bully anymore. Condemned souls with defeated eyes. You could just add chains to their image and Charles Dickens’s ghost from past lives would come to life.

Shadow-man walked in the middle, his dark suit marking the contrast between his position in LaMarq’s organization and the rest of the ‘paid hand’ moss. That, and the fact that his hands seemed to be a lot freer than the rest of the prisoners.

That small fact, starting as an hitch in the back of Jack’s mind, soon leaped up front, as the Colonel saw his nemesis slowly move his arms, reading himself.

The yelled ‘Look out!’ seemed to come from no one’s mouth, as shadow-man made his move and, fast as lightning, took one of the guards weapon, grabbed the stunned man from behind and, with a deadly grip on the man’s neck, pointed the soldier’s gun to his head.

"NO ONE MOVES!… Or he takes it!"

The rest of the soldiers took in the scene, confused. Some of them realizing now what was happening, some of them looking at their superiors, not knowing what to do.

Shadow-man started his way, carefully and slowly, towards the open door car.

Jack’s hand had flew to his tight like a second nature, not remembering that the familiar weapon wouldn’t be there.

Looking around in a controlled despair, his eyes spotted Sparks gun, still in its holster, right next to him.

With his eyes steadily poised on Shadow-man’s progress, Jack carefully slide his hand towards the gun, a nervous finger releasing its holder and a shaking hand freeing the weapon from its shelter.

Sparks eyes looked in alarm towards his gun, feeling the Colonel’s fumbling, but, realizing the older man plan, had the sense to hold still and look straight ahead.

‘Smart kid’ Jack thought, his eyes straight ahead just the same, none of them wanting Shadow-man to realize what they were up to.

The focus of their collective attention continued his slow and tense march up towards his escape, the SGC soldier’s body between him and the half a dozen guns trained on him.

With a small shake of his gun-holding hand, Shadow-man motion for the policeman to move away from their car. The men were fast to obey.

Keeping his hand low and holding the now, ready to fire, gun, Jack had dived deep inside his special ops training, recalling distant times when he had learned and trained to take such a shot. He had to angle it just right, on sense alone, since leveling the gun with his eyes was out of question, never mind figure the space between him, two car windows and a small area of his target that wasn’t covered by the hostage.

No problemo!

Yeah, right!

Despite the chill of the night and the Colonel unconventional clothing, sweat was playing small river-like courses along his face, the back of his neck, soaking his hairline, pilling up in his upper lip. He fought the urge to wipe those clean.

Jack could fell Sam’s eyes on his back now, a light caress of confidence, as she too realized what he was up to.

He could take this shot.

He had done it before, he could do it again. So, ok, it had been just on time, long time ago. And he wasn’t shaking like fresh jelly then, but he still could do it.

He had to.

The face of the hostage soldier had already gone past white. The man was way past scared. Way, way past. This was what scared soldiers, especially young soldiers, the most. The lost of control, the feeling that everything that you were taught is useless and you cant do a thing to save your own live. The first confrontation with your own mortality.

That young man couldn’t do a thing, but Jack could. That man’s life was on his shaking hands.

His target was side stepping now, SGC and police guns in front of him and the escape car just a few feet away, Shadow-man’s attention focused on that group and filling the two blanket-covered bundles and lonely soldier as unimportant.

Just like Jack wanted.

Just that small edge he needed to make this work.

Just a little closer.

Closer.

The fleeting of scared birds almost hide the sound of Jack’s gun going off.

Shadow-man waved in the air for a split of a second before, like a unstring puppet, and crumpled to the floor, as he wounded leg gave out from underneath his weight.

Stunned, the man looked at the blood flowing freely from his thigh to the floor, seemingly not believing the evidences before his eyes until pain proved the reality of the red liquid.

In the heat of his momentum, Shadow-man raised himself up, and faced the man that had shot him.

Jack’s hand still hold the smoking gun and their eyes met.

Tortured and torturer.

Military and mercenary.

Killer and killed.

The rest of the crowd faded in the background, the hostage scrambling away towards safety, the soldiers closing in to secure the prisoner and lock the rest, Sam and Sparks looking at Jack in awn, everyone but the two facing men moving at totally different velocities.

The Colonel saw the slight tensing of Shadow-man’s hand.

They both knew that the prisoner’s chance of escaping was gone, that he was now cornered and beyond help. No chance of wining this round.

The Sun’s last golden rays disappeared behind the distant hills and Shadow-man’s guns jerked in to action. His shot was lost in the night, but all the rest that came out from SGC soldiers and Jack’s weapons met their target.

Shadow-man, aka Frank, was dead even before his body touched the ground.

"That… that was one incredible shot, Sir!" Sparks finally let out, referring to the Colonel’s first shot, as the man in question handed him back his gun.

The young soldier looked at his own gun like he had never seen it before.

Jack wasn’t listening to him anyway, he wasn’t even seeing the soldiers that had gotten the situation back in control, or Sam sending a concerned look his way before, finally, going to get some medical attention.

Right now, the only thing that the Colonel could see was the eyes of the man that had just died. The dark losing its spark, as Shadow-man accepted his death as an easy way out.

Jack had kept his promise, but a criminal had gotten away easily, with no real pay for his crimes except a death that he had chosen and a peace that none of them would find that soon.

Jack had kept his promise, but it wasn’t fair.

The Colonel felt cheated.

Robed of a chance of retribution.

Shadow-man, like the rest of the shadows when the light his out, had just faded away, lost in the rest of the darkness. He had become one more on the long list of faces that came back at night to hunt you down in your dreams.

And of that, Jack was sure.

Like he was sure he’d always keep his promises.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

Teal’c, Ferreti and the small group of marines had quickly and stealthily moved to the large house, spotting the other team behind some bushes and trees.

Teal’c’s team spread out along what seemed like the house’s back entrance. Capturing the attention of the other team leader, Ferreti asked how many guards were they up against.

The other acknowledged him and raised a full hand open, closed it and opened once more.

Ten guards.

The other man kept on with his silent communication.

Three fingers up. Guards above.

Four fingers pointing to his eyes. Guards on the house’s front.

Three fingers straight ahead. Guards on the back, nearer to them.

Piece of sweet, sweet cake. If you have diabetes…

Signaling back, Ferreti made sure that both teams were ready to strike on three.

The ok signal came back at the same time.

The Major started his silent finger counting.

One.

Two.

Thr…

A second before they had time to attack, a lonely gunshot broke through the silent house, scaring the birds on the trees away.

Instantly, the house guards were on alert, but, unfortunately for them, their attention was focused on the shot’s source and not on the outside, where the SGC soldiers took advantage of the momentary distraction and moved forward with all their might, shouting warriors that took LaMarq’s men totally unprepared.

"Drop your weapons!" Ferreti yelled, taking advantage of the confused look in the other men’s faces.

Either the guards didn’t understand him, or just pretended not to. Seconds after Ferreti’s offer of surrender, the deafening sound of automatic weapons discharging was all that could be heard.

LaMarq’s men hadn’t stood a chance.

Even with the small reinforcements that arrived from the guards at the house’s front, the guards were no match for the trained, angry soldiers and revolted friends that couldn’t see in these men paid workers, but only beasts that had hurt their friends.

"Hold your fire!" someone yelled, as realization downed that there were no more enemies to fire at.

The screaming automatic weapons silenced at that command, soldiers taking deep breaths to clear their adrenalin fogged minds and calm down their warrior spirits. When the smoke cleared, they were the only ones standing.

LaMarq’s guards were all dead.

The soldiers lowered their hot guns, gazing the bloodied corps all around them, contorted in bizarre positions and inhuman expressions in their eyes.

The stench of death acted as an antidote against the anger they had been filling, opening their eyes, as it always did when the battle was over. Only then they were able to see the others for what they were. Men… just like them.

Stuffing away the reality of death and saving it to deal with after, their attention left the dead and focused on the living, checking for casualties and seeing if the friends, that they had collect along the time serving together, were still standing. No one had been clamed this time.

Just like in any other battle, the winners had been lucky… the losers had not.

On an unspoken agreement, the two SGC teams broke up, one going through the front door, while the other moved in through the back door.

Time was being wasted and the lonely gunshot that had started it all was still clear in all of their minds.

If the house had looked big from outside, inside it looked huge, as the soldiers came to bitter conclude, leaving them with no other choice but split up and search every square foot of the place.

On groups of two, the soldiers spread out, their attention torn between finding any sign of Jackson and the constant reminder that there could be more guards inside the house.

The number of rooms that composed that house seemed to stretch out forever, leaving the tense soldiers feeling like a shrunk Alice in Wonderland, after the eating the wrong set of cookies, a feeling that none of them welcomed and that only contributed to make them jumpy.

Feeling too small in a place too big.

And the decoration… the medieval motif had hit them the second they were inside, some involuntary ‘wows’ escaping involuntary mouths.

The automatic weapons in their gloved hands seemed out of place in there… the swords decorating the tall walls seemed more appropriated!

Ferreti stopped in front of an ancient looking armor, a small part of his battle-focused brain registering the fact that Jackson would have loved to check this place out… if he hadn’t had the chance already!

The Major was starting to feel like he had returned to his fifth grade and was taking a tour around some important museum… and he hated that feeling!

The sound of two different sets of automatic weapons being fired echoed through the house with the force of a cannon.

Ferreti ‘s finger was on his radio before the short sound had a chance of dieing

"This Bravo Leader 1! Everyone’s ok? Over"

"Bravo Leader, this Bravo 6… we’ve encounter some resistance in the second level east section, Sir! Over" the voice of an out-of-breath soldier came back in reply, through the static.

"Copy that Brave 6… What’s the situation now? Over" Ferreti asked, concern carving his face in stone.

"The situation is controlled, Sir… I repeated: situation controlled!" the soldier answered in a crispy military tone, only to had in a more casual form, knowing the man on the other side of the radio "we’re breathing, Sir… they’re not"

Ferreti smiled to himself. It seemed that SGC had developed a language of its one between its members, one that sometimes… heck, most of the times, left military protocol to parties and social events.

"Radio that, Bravo 6… carry on! Bravo leader over and out!" he said, clinking the radio transmitter off and motioning to his partner grinning face to move forward.

The search went on.

They met more guards. Bravo 6’s luck didn’t extended to Bravo 4 and 7 that had to be evacuated with minor injuries.

They found some scared servants, which were safely escorted outside.

They even found LaMarq’s accountant.

They just couldn’t find the person they were looking for.

As everyone was starting to wonder if this really was the place where Dr. Jackson had been brought to, the shout of one of the soldiers downstairs was felt like an electrical serge through the air.

They had been found.

Ferreti and his search partner met Teal’c at the stairs top.

Quickly they made their way through the dim lighted winding stairs, towards the lower level that, as it looked, had been turned in to a pool house.

The clear watered pool stood in the middle of the room, occupying most of it, but even so, it wasn’t the pool that had caught the soldiers’ attention when they entered the place.

The bodies had.

On one side of the pool, one body. An old woman.

On the pool’s other side, two more. An old man and someone else covered by him.

The woman had her face turned towards them. A huge and deforming hole decorated her forehead, blood and darker pieces of grey matter caking the floor around her. The discarded gun laid by her right hand. She was dead, no question there.

The question was whether if that shot had been the one that they had all heard or if her suicidal bullet’s noise had been lost in the outside sound of the bigger weapons.

And then, of course, there were the two other bodies.

Teal’c’s feet had barely touched the floor as he raced to reach that side of the pool.

The old man, who Teal’c recognized as LaMarq, was dead, the bleeding wound in his chest and the frozen look on his lifeless eyes leaving no room for doubt.

The second man, partially covered by the dead corpse, was Daniel Jackson.

Teal’c, as the soldier that had called them there, had guessed that much by the lack of clothes, just like O’Neill and Carter, a conclusion that did nothing to ease the sense of dread that had been creeping up his spine.

There was too much blood around the two bodies.

So much that the alien man could only pray for it to have belonged to the dead man and not his friend.

Unceremoniously dragging LaMarq’s body so that he could better access his friend’s condition, Teal’c drooped to his knees and found Daniel’s eyes open too but, unlike LaMarq’s, the sparkle of life still shining in them… even if not with the strength that he was use to see.

Even so, he thanked the gods.

"Get an ambulance in here!" Ferreti shouted from somewhere above the alien warrior, crouching beside the two men.

Daniel was looking at them through a haze of pain.

"Teal’c?"

Teal’c diverted his eyes from their wondering through his friend body, accessing his condition, and rested on the blue orbs that were trying to focus on him.

"It is I my friend… all will be well now" the Jaffa promised the barely conscious young man, tearing up a piece of cloth from the dead man’s clothes and starting to put some pressure on the gunshot wound that he had discovered on Daniel’s abdomen.

"Hey, kid… help will be here in a second, ok?" the Major sounded cheerful, doing his best to coach some more strength in to the wounded man.

Daniel nodded carefully.

Help.

Home.

That would be nice.

"Ferreti… Jack?… Sam?"

"They’re safe Jackson, don’t you worry about them" he said, putting a reassuring hand over the younger man’s wet shoulder, both for comfort as for restraining, as Teal’c applied more of his weight to the wound and Daniel squirmed under the painful touch, "Just take it easy, ok?… You’ll be out of here in no time"

"Goo… ood" he said, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

In a very odd way, he felt good now that he didn’t had to worry about the fate of the universe in general and his friends in particular. Now, he could let go of that small bit of extra energy that had been keeping him conscious and let Teal’c and Ferreti take care of all the rest.

Maybe he should just take advantage of the fact that his eyes were already closed and keep them that way just for a lit…

"Daniel Jackson!" Teal’c called to him.

"Hum…?"

"You must remain awaken… it is safer" his friend warned him. Teal’c had no idea on how much blood had already escaped the young man’s body and he could not take the risk of letting Jackson slip in to shock. No more risks would be taken.

"Hum hum" came the sleepy reply.

Daniel couldn’t agree more the other man, but his body had other ideas on the subject.

It was cold, and he could really use some quality shut-eye tim…

"DANIEL JACKSON!" the alien man said again, this time in a tone of voice that implied immediate obedience, no questions asked.

The sluggish eyelids opened again. Ok, already! Nice to see you and your spinning room too!

"That is better"

Daniel managed a weak grin.

"Yeah, well…" he said in a sluggish tone, "Jack’s the… one… with the wrong… idea… that I can’t obey… orders"

Any other remarks that could have followed melted away in the sound of the arriving ambulance’s siren.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

UK’s Prime Minister had been extremely sympathetic with their plead.

From the, ‘off-the-record’, phone conversation between the two countries leaders came the authorization for the US military helicopters to enter their air space and for a secret operation to be conducted without the British military intervention, something that left the US president owing ‘a big one’ to the other man.

SGC men had been swift to take LaMarq’s house, something made easier by the man’s over confidence in himself, while General Hammond stayed at a near by Air Force base, also gently open to them by the country’s govern.

As soon as all of SG1 was safe, Major Ferreti had radio ahead, both to put their commanding officer up to date on the mission’ success as to ask for a medical team to be ready for their arrival.

Although the General’s face had remained calm and unfazed by the report, the man’s stomach had taken a double turn as those words sunk in.

His heart did a crazy loop and crashed along with gravity to the sole of his military shoes.

Up high relief that they were alive and on their way home, deep, tumbling sorrow that they had been hurt.

In his wildest and optimistic dreams, the General had really hoped that he would have his team back unscathed and safe. He should have known better. This was SG1 after all.

He had just wished that this were the one time that they wouldn’t arrive hurt and bleeding, but he knew now that that was just asking for too much.

Just this one time.

There were so many things that he wished he had done differently, so many others that he had been helpless to do differently.

All of it coming to the same result.

O’Neill and his team had paid the price, a high one, for having been caught in the middle of a rotten scheme that they shouldn’t have taken part off, for starters, a scheme to achieve things that he wasn’t even sure anymore to be worthy of the risk and pains that they had brought upon his men… upon his friends.

Deep inside, Hammond knew that SG1 wouldn’t question his attitudes as their commanding officer, that on some level, they might even understand, but he couldn’t help but to wonder if the friendship and the amount of trust that had grown between him and those four people would not be forever lost.

When the military ambulance arrived, the tormented General was awaiting them.

*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*

"… gunshot wound with liver perforation and surrounding sepsis; extensive and severe skin and muscle damaged tissue on your back; infected second degree burn, also on your back; fractured nose’s vertical blade; the complete collection of lacerations, hemotomas and abused tissues all over and lets not forget the biochemical unbalance caused by dehydration and over anti-psychotic and sedative medication!" Janet Frazier, base medical chief and ‘mother’ of all, burst out, sticking a finger up her patient’s broken nose for each item on her list.

"So?" Daniel was the picture of innocence. On bandages.

"So, Dr. Jackson," she pause to calm herself, "as I already told you countless times, TODAY, you can’t go home yet" she finished.

She knew that SG1 had just been through a very traumatic experience; she knew that Daniel had been through all kind of abuses and that she had to be patient with him…

… but her patience only went so far, and this man was driving her nuts!

The news that a missing Dr. Jackson was arriving at her infirmary in a bordering critical condition, accompanied by a, supposedly on leave, Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter, apparently not so hot themselves, had sounded strange to Dr. Frazier. The knowledge that they were coming directly from a military hospital in Scotland, escorted by, the also on leave, Teal’c, and General Hammond himself… well, that had sounded downright delirious!

Still, if there were something that she had learned in SGC over these four years was that, if something was weird enough, it would probably happen in this command center, and chances were that it would happen to a SG1 member.

The past few weeks on this base had been, in her personal opinion, like the feverish nightmares of a mad mind.

First, Graham’s death.

Then Dr Jackson mysteriously disappears, being accused of Graham’s death.

Next, no big surprise there, the rest of SG1 disappears too AND Graham returns from the dead (nothing new for this place’s records).

Then, it’s the entire complex that disappears, staff and all, hidden by the Nox.

And, last but not the least, the General himself does the Houdini act and goes on a secret mission, barely after the base’s reappearance, taking half of SGC teams with him.

Now… was she the only one thinking this was all a bit… hum, how would Colonel O’Neill put it?

Oh, yeah… NUTS!?

Although Janet had no idea on what was going on on that base, she had no doubt that, somewhere out there, all this disappearing and reappearing had a logical explanation, even if that explanation escaped her right now.

A total mess.

Just like the SG1 members that had arrived to her hands, with Dr. Jackson, of course, being the messiest of them all.

Even so, as she had been told, the man had been extremely lucky because, apparently the same bullet that had been taken out of Daniel’s liver had previously pierced through LaMarq’s heart, killing the man instantly.

The bullet’s impact with LaMarq’s rib cage on its way out had substantially decreased its velocity and changed its trajectory angle.

Which had been enough to save Daniel’s life.

One of life’s ironies, she guessed.

Her Scottish colleagues had done a great job mending the hole in his abdomen, just a hand above her, oh so carefully made, appendicectomy suture scar, but the rest of their wounds had merely been cleaned. Apparently, and as she could read in the medical report that had been sent along, the General had been in a quite hurry to bring his people back to Cheyenne.

To a place where he didn’t had to worry with what the Colonel, the Major or the good doctor could mumble in a drugged sleep or in a more verbal nightmare.

To a place where the Stargate would be safe.

To her infirmary.

That had been two weeks and some confusion ago.

The minute Jackson had been coherent enough to put together two full sentences, his mouth had started working a mile per hour, even if his brain wasn’t still all plugged in.

He had insisted with her to call the General, even as she kept telling him to take it easy.

The man, however, would not listen and in the end, she had no other choice but to give in.

That had been when she found out all about LaMarq’s schemes and what had happen to them. The abduction, the spankings, the interrogation, the phone conversation that Daniel had witnessed, LaMarq’s plans and the involvement of, surprise, surprise… Senator Kinsey!

Now… couldn’t they just have guessed that one coming?

By the end of it, even as she kicked everyone out of her infirmary, so that her exhausted patient could rest, Janet realized the why behind Daniel’s urgency.

Kinsey was still out on the lose, but now, with a witness of his involvement, they could put him out of business

The General, obviously no stranger to that particular story, had rushed in to action, or as nearer as General would ever come of rushing.

From there on, the smelly stuff had really hit the fan.

Kinsey, as the rumor mill had related, was fuming with anger when he left the office of one very pissed off President, after having had a very disturbing shouting mach behind the closed doors.

Now, if that anger was because of what Kinsey had heard from the President or if it was because of the guards that were waiting in the corridor to escort him to his new home, no one could really tell.

Neither anyone really cared.

*’*’*

For the second time, SGC and SG1 in particular, had frustrated Kinsey’s efforts to save Earth from the blasted Stargate. An alien device that no one fully knew, an open damnation door in contact with a universal and cruel reality that no one fully understood.

An object, as powerful as the Ark of Convenience, in the hands of reckless men and women that played with it as if it was a toy.

As soon as he had heard about the Stargate project, the implications of such endeavor had made the fine hair of his neck crawl.

And on that very day he had swear to protect Earth from this evil influence.

His first plan had been ingenious, absolutely perfect, so perfect that it hadn't even been a plan. The situation had simply presented itself and he, being in the right position inside the govern at the exact right time, had simply took it.

SGC had been so close to ending those days. In fact, he had even manage to close their doors for a short period of time, due to budgetary incompatibilities, but an hill timed attack from an alien foe had twisted the situation in such ways that in the end, SGC and SG1 had looked like the heroes, rescuing the all planet, and he… and he was the fool.

How wrong were they all!

After that the project had been restarted, with a renewed force and the President's unconditional support while his failure had almost cost him his place at the Senate.

But he was clever… he had managed to go unnoticed long enough to keep is place. To live another day in power, to try again.

Then he had met LaMarq.

A slimy, low life form that had earned his place and fortune with devious schemes and moves far from the right side of law and moral. Someone with money and greed enough to help Kinsey with his plans and not pose much as problem when the Senator decided to dump him and use his partner as a scapegoat. Just as soon as his plans succeeded. Just as soon as the Stargate was closed.

However, his plans had failed once more and the Stargate was still running, endangering Mankind, while he had to face the shame of being in prison, like some criminal, some murderer, some rapper...

Condemned by those he longed to save, like the Lord’s Apostles had been condemned by ancient Rome.

Ex-Senator Kinsey smiled in his prison cell at that thought.

Yes, like one of the Lord’s Apostles, he too was a martyr that had been condemned by those who could not understand the work that he did, those who could not realize the danger they were placing themselves in by toying with an artifact of the Devil.

But he was a patient man.

Kinsey had his personal crusade and he would quietly wait for the day to come when he would win.

Victory would smile upon him, because that was the will of the Lord.

*’*

The human body possesses one of Nature’s fastest and effective regeneration processes, in many aspects surpassed only by the lizard’s ability to heal themselves.

Although no human can grow back a finger or an arm if one is cut off, it can surely compensate its lost and regroup itself in order to guarantee survival.

Just like the lost of one the five senses enhances the other four.

Because the human body was made for, prepared for, its all structure pushes it to survival.

That’s the natural law.

That’s how its been done for millions of years, since Man was Man. Before even.

But then, at some point in time, Man tried for the first time to help Nature when Man felt that Nature’s healing was too slow or not enough for Man’s needs. And, at one point in time, Man started to take an active part in healing himself, started to know its own body and started to understand what he had to do in order to help those primal survival instincts to take their course.

Medicine, in its initial form, was the first step that Mankind took to help the human body regenerative powers and spread its metaphorical wings.

From there on, wonders have never stopped to happen.

But we are talking about the body here… tissues, blood vessels, valves, systems… things you can touch and make better.

The mind, with its entire complex neural network it’s an all-different field. A still very unknown field.

*’*

Dr. Frazier had full confidence that the three members of SG1 would heal their wounds just fine.

Soon, all that would be left would be the scars on their bodies, and even those she had made sure to be gone as soon the Air Force plastic surgeon was available.

So, in theory, her job was done.

But theory was for books.

In reality, and from the sour experience that she had so far, Janet knew more than well that the mind is much, much slower to heal than the body. Some times, it didn’t even heal at all, because those were scars that couldn’t be correct with surgery.

Because those scars could run so deeply that they became the disease themselves.

Although the resident medical chief doctor had a pretty good idea of what had happen to her patients, just from the marks it had left, it was only when Daniel had spoken with the General nor so long ago, that she found out the nasty details of reality.

It had made her sick.

And it took a lot to make Janet Frazier, US Air Force medical doctor, sick.

All in all, it had been one terrible, shocking, brutal mission, one that they hadn’t even been assigned for.

A blow so strong to their minds and bodies that she wasn’t sure how they would react.

So, it was no small wonder for her when the first night terrors began in her infirmary.

Place: the semi-private room she had placed the SG1 members in.

Source: well, surprisingly enough… Colonel O’Neill.

Apparently, the Colonel’s dream world had decided to take a twist for worse and had placed him face to face with some ugly ghosts.

The Colonel hadn’t been much fond of that and had returned to reality drenched in sweat and competing with bed clothing, to see who got whiter.

When Janet and the nurse on duty had arrived to his side, O’Neill was already awakening, but still not ‘there’.

The man was shivering all over, eyes unfocused and mind so far away Frazier couldn’t even reach him for the first minutes that she tried to.

And that had scared her. Because this was the man she had always associated with control.

Control of the situation.

Control of his reactions.

Control of himself.

And with no control over his demons.

Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

A huge set of signs and symptoms that she had read and stored in her brain with all the rest.

Like all the rest, it was much worse to see than to read in some old book.

When her old teacher in collage had first mentioned it, she and her side partner and friend, had started giggling. Good God… she had laughed out loud because it had reminded her of pre-menstrual syndrome and an instant picture of Rambo throwing a tantrum had come to her mind.

When she faced her first ‘Rambo’ on PMS she realized there was no reason to giggle about it at all.

And that had been a long time ago.

SG1, on smaller scale, had been through this before, but, much to her sorrow, PTSS wasn’t like chicken pocks… they hadn’t got immune to it. They had just gotten better.

The Colonel hadn’t been immune to it after his rescue from that Iraquian prison and SG1 sure hadn’t got immune to it when they returned from the blown apart Apophis’ ship or even after spending more than three weeks frozen in Hathor’s little play world.

She knew they hadn’t because she had been there. She had been there to see the panic attacks coming out of the blue, she had been there to hear the nightmares and she had been there to keep them to fall in to depression. Big time. Because they were only human.

Even if they had managed to pull it together with a superhuman strength that amazed her still.

Janet Frazier just hoped that that was one magic trick they could pull out of their collective hats one more time.

*’*’*’’*’*

Janet was going over her, now routine of the past week, when she spotted the signaling nurse by the infirmary door.

"… just a few more days, Dr. Jackson! Please be patient! I’m only letting you go when I can be sure that those wounds are properly healed and those stitches wont infect" she said, pointing to the white bandages still covering the man’s stomach, "… and don’t give me the pounding face, ‘couse by now you should know it that does not work with me!" she finished, her face betraying what was supposed to be a harsh speech with bemusement and understanding that the man before her was simply and utterly bored beyond recognition.

Making her way towards the nurse, Janet saw the worried look on the other woman’s face.

"What’s wrong, Sandra?"

"It’s Major Carter… she’s not back yet"

Janet frowned.

She knew that Sam’s wounds were all but healed, at least the body ones. After one nightmare in which the young Major had woke up screaming she had finally told Janet all about her almost-assault. The medic had refrain herself from the ‘you should’ve told me about this sooner’ speech and the two had ended up talking in to the night, not as patient-doctor but as friends. By the end of the talk Janet had been a little more optimist about the young woman’s recovery… a little bit.

So, Frazier had been thinking of giving Sam the so wanted ‘go home’ ticket that day, as the Major had assured her that she was feeling better. Had even asked her to use the infirmary showers so that she could take a proper bath, saying she was sick of the basin and sponge version of it.

That had been over an hour ago.

"Let’s go" she said, already on her way.

It didn’t took them long to find the steam pouring out from the occupied shower.

"Major Carter?", Dr. Frazier called out, not wanting to surprise anyone else in mid-bath. "Major Carter… are you here?", she tried again.

No one answered back.

Against the sound of water splashing on the shower’s floor they could hear a low, muffled whimper.

"Sam?", she said, finally crossing the final distance and opening the shower door. "Sam..." Janet let out in a whisper when she caught sight of her friend.

The Major was huddled against one of the small shower’s walls, her knees draw up to meet her chin and her arms pressed tightly around her legs.

Hot water was pouring on top of her, turning her skin in to an unhealthy shade of red. Even so, she was shivering, her body making rhythmic motions back and forth as the Major tried to turn herself in to the smallest ball she could master.

Janet moved closer and closed the running water.

"Sam…" she tried once more to capture her attention.

As the medic was starting to seriously consider the option of calling someone from the Psychiatric department to handle this situation, the hand that she had carefully placed on Sam’s shoulder seemed to break the spell.

"Janet?!", she said, looking a little surprised and embarrassed as soon as she realized what was happening.

"Yeah, honey, it’s me… what happened?"

"I… I just couldn’t… it wouldn’t… he would have…"

She just couldn’t explain.

She had gone to the infirmary showers, like she had done countless times before, privileges of being Janet’s friend and not wanting to wait for her time to use the common showers, since the majority of her team was of the opposite sex and majority usually won.

She was feeling fine. Well, a little sore maybe, but fine.

Then, she had started taking off her clothes and it had all come back…

The same feeling of exposure, the same frost bite in the pit of her stomach, the same feeling of defenselessness…

She had managed to get out of the common area an in to the shower, thinking that it would pass soon, but it hadn’t….

Sam could still feel his hands all over her body, the smell of his heavy breath near her mouth…

Daniel scream…

the whip on their backs…

cutting through her skin…

the sickening feeling of that… pig’s excitement between her legs…

the little clothing she had on… her tired body refusing to fight any longer…

"Shssss… it’s ok… come on, Sam, you’re safe now" the medical doctor said, taking a couple of towel and wrapping the shivering woman in them "let’s take you back to the infirmary, ok?" she gently asked.

"Kay…"

*’*’*

Sam and Jack had been released two days after that.

Daniel one week after, with strict orders to take it easy, to come back to see her in two days in order to change his bandages and, especially, not to miss the psychologist appointments that she had schedule for everyone of them.

For now, she though it best to keep Mackenzie at bay, to let them just talk to someone first, see what good that would do.

Mackenzie was a psychiatrist… he would go to medication first and let the talk for later, and Janet didn’t want that… not if it could be helped

It was still all too soon, if you asked Janet, but she was out of medical reasons to keep them there and she trust them to make it to the counseling meetings.

That had been a mistake.

Major Carter was the only one showing up in the psychologist’s office and, even so, she had gone through it like an obligation, just something she was doing because she was a well-behaved officer.

Janet wouldn’t want to be in that psychologist’s shoes for all the money in the world.

The Colonel had just pretended to forget the appointment. She knew, from past experience, that that one would only make it to the shrink’s office door if and when the General turned that appointment in to a direct order. Which he would, as soon as Janet had a word with Hammond.

Even then, bets were that his response would be as cooperative as Sam’s had been.

And Daniel, of course, true to the team’s spirit of rebellion, hadn’t showed up either.

But now, what was really bugging Janet was the fact that Daniel had never showed to change his bandages too. The gunshot wound still had the stitches on, so, he was supposed to come back and change them every two days.

He had promised her that he wouldn’t forget that. Janet had made sure he wouldn’t. She had been very explicit on what would happen to his sorry ass if he aloud those stitches to become infect and had left very clear the idea that he would not enjoy the return to her infirmary.

Daniel had always been intelligent enough to take her menaces seriously.

And what bugged her even further was that she had called him, in case he had really forgotten about their ‘date’, but the answering machine had picked it up by the eighth ring. All five times she had called.

So, after a night wandering about was the hell was happening to SG1, to her friends, Janet had decided she would have a talk with Teal’c and see what he knew. At least, she could grab with him their addresses and check for herself. She could ask the home addresses to the General too, and she knew he would give them to her, but that would mean letting Hammond know that something wasn’t right with SG1… well, something more wasn’t right.

She knew the base commander was worried about them too, but something else was behind his troubled eyes. And her clinical eye hadn’t missed the dark bags under Hammond’s eyes.

SG1 weren’t the only ones to bare the marks of the latest events.

Well, first things first, she decided, calling Teal’c over the base’s intercom.

Over the time that the rest of SG1 was in the infirmary, Teal’c had been feeling as useless as he was worried.

The rest of the team, the friends he had come to see as his family away from home, were troubled, hurt in their bodies and in their souls and, although he longed to be of help to them, they systematically pushed him away.

Had this happened three years ago, when he was still to know them as deeply as he did now, he would have concluded that to be a sure sign of rejection, based on the fact that he was to blame for what had happen to them, a prove that he had failed in his first priority, the protection of those he served with.

Even if in his heart he felt that he should have been there to protect them in the first place, or, falling that, that he should have been able to rescue them sooner, he also knew that his friends did not share this feeling with him.

Because, in the same way as he knew them, they knew him.

Even when in the SGC’s infirmary, his friends had been vehement in their statements that they didn’t blame him for anything, that, in fact, they couldn’t thank him enough for the rescue he had glued together.

But still, they refused his help.

Dr. Frasier had explained to him that these reactions were normal, under the circumstances, that it was expected, after all they had been through. That it was perfectly normal for them to be depressed, to refuse to see him or anyone else, to wake up in the morning and find lacking to will to even open their eyes. She said they needed time. That they would heal.

Teal’c trusted the young doctor’s judgment, but still he could feel his heart twist in his heart every time he watched his friends suffering like this. Every time he found himself lacking the skills to help them through it.

And now, that they had been released from the infirmary, the Major, the Colonel and the Doctor had taken refuge in their homes, away from all the eyes and kind words that had been suffocating them during the time they spent in SGC. Away to lick their wounds, like Daniel Jackson had once said. Away from him and his need to do something to help them. Which left him roaming the corridors of the complex aimlessly, like a strained wolf separated from his pack.

When he heard his name being called to the infirmary, Teal’c hastened his pace towards there.

"You have requested my presence, Dr. Frazier?" the large man asked her as he saw the smaller woman stepping out of her office, her usual white coat replaced by a white shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Ah… yes, Teal’c… I was wondering if you had heard anything from Colonel O’Neill or Dr. Jackson?" she asked him, getting a silent negative nod in response, "that’s what I though… Teal’c, do you know your way to Daniel’s place?" she asked him while fumbling around with her jacket.

"I do" he said, sounding like the unwilling broom on the wedding’s day.

"Can you take me there?"

"I can… may I ask why?" the alien man asked, suspicious that something else might be wrong.

His first clue: it was not habit for the base’s chief medical doctor to go out on ‘house calls’ like these… and when she did, the ‘house’ was usually across galaxies… not across town.

Janet saw his look and lowered her eyes before answering. Maybe she was losing her focus here… maybe she was letting things like friendship come across her best medical judgment… maybe she was just taking all this ‘patient-doctor’ thing that extra step further.

"I thought I should check on Daniel… and maybe go through the Colonel’s place on the way back…" she said in a blur of words, never quite able to meet his eyes.

The alien man nodded, even if she couldn’t see him doing so.

"I am also worried about their silence" he quietly said, letting her know that it was ok to worry about your friends.

Janet looked up at him, surprised. He of all people, the person that took the concept of ‘not from around here’ to its limits, the ex-first prime of Apophis, that until a few years ago was a total stranger to the concept of friendship, was telling her that it was ok to care beyond her call of duty. He had grasped the concept better than she had.

With all the times that SG1 spent coming in and out of her infirmary, in all sorts of ways, moods and conditions, she had no other way but to become more than their doctor. With time, she had come to see them as friends, a friendship she treasured deeply.

So, she reasoned, it wasn’t the doctor that wanted to go check on her patients.

It was the friend that wanted to make sure that they were ok.

"Let’s go then!"

Heading down the busy corridor, the hurried pair all but bumped in to Sam.

"Wow… what’s the rush?" she asked, her military eye quickly catching on the fact that Janet was out of her uniform.

The petit woman looked at Teal’c with guilty eyes.

She knew Sam would be worried about those two trouble makers as much or more than her, but Janet also knew that the young Major already had enough on her plate alone, slowly dealing in her own terms with all that had happen. She didn’t want to add to all of that her worries about the fact that neither Daniel nor the Colonel had showed up for their counseling meeting.

On the other hand, these guys were like family. Worse than family when one was troubled. Could she really hide anything from Sam?

"We’re going to Daniel’s place" she finally confessed.

Sam frowned. Janet and Teal’c going to see Daniel on her back?

"Why?"

"He hasn’t showed up to change his bandages or the counseling appointment… neither has the Colonel for that matter… have you talked to any of them lately?"

"No" Sam said sadly. Truth was, she hadn’t even tried, afraid that they might actually take her up on the offer and would expect from her a support that right now, she couldn’t even offer herself.

"I’m going with you guys" she added with out a blink, confident that with the presence of both Janet and Teal’c, she would finally be able the face her friends.

*’*’*’*

After the fifth ring of the doorbell going unanswered, the Colonel gave up and made a beeline for the doorman.

Jack hadn’t been all that sure if he should go check on Daniel or not, but before he could decide he had found himself at the young man’s front door.

Up until the moment that it downed to him that Daniel wasn’t going to answer that damn door, Jack still wasn’t sure if he was doing the mother hen act because he was worried about the fact that Daniel was alone after all that had happen to him or if was doing it just because he had to make sure that the young man was alive and well, to see his face smiling, to see Daniel act as if nothing had happen. To see him doing anything but the screaming he kept seeing in his nightmares.

But Daniel wasn’t even answering the door.

And now Jack was sure he had done the right think.

Because something wasn’t right.

Fortunately for him the doorman on duty was Mr. Sherman, a nice middle age man that had already seen the Colonel with Daniel countless times, so, getting the spare key to Daniel’s apartment was no problem.

Flying back to his friend door, Jack trusted a nervous hand holding the key and opened the locked door.

The house was pitch dark, all its windows closed with the curtains draw tightly. A stale smell assaulted the Colonel’s nostrils, making him back track a step or two before he could handle the nausea that was threatening to consume him.

"Daniel?" he called out in a breaking voice that could only be his. It sounded wrong even in his ears.

No one answered.

Jack quickly scanned the living room, but there was no sign of his friend.

The doorman had assured him that Daniel was home, so... where the hell was he?

"Daniel?" he tried again, making his way to the main bedroom, his footsteps with out sound making him feel like a ghost in the dark place.

"Danny?" he called again, opening the room’s door.

The room was dark too but, like the rest of the house, empty. The large bed in its center was disturbed, the sheets half on it, half on the floor. Jack was about to leave when the dark object against the light bed cloths caught his eyes.

A gun.

Feeling his heart trump like a drum on a heavy-metal concert against his chest, Jack covered the short distance that separated him from the side of the bed that was hidden from his view.

A body was twisted in the floor, partially hidden by the sheets that had fallen on top of it.

"Daniel!!" he heard himself scream without actually opening his mouth.

Rushing to his friends’ side, Jack crushed to his knees and found himself holding a tiny body dressed in his new baseball uniform, blond hair caked with blood framing his son’s face.

"Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!"

Jack woke up with a start, the scream in his mind frozen in his throat, begging him to be let out. His bed sheets were drenched in sweat even if his body was shaking like fresh jelly. He couldn’t decide whether he was cold or hot.

Panting his way in to full consciousness, the Air Force Colonel drew his old knees up and hugged them, trying to take some control in his shaking body, trying to convince his mind that those last images that his eyes had saw weren’t real, that they were part of a nightmare.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape the nagging image of Daniel’s dead body morphing in to Charlie’s. The black against his closed eyelids only provided him with a better screen for the images his mind was replaying.

Taking deep breaths, the hard ass Colonel rocked his way back to reality and away from dream.

Not real.

Not real.

Not real.

Not real.

Looking out from his bedroom window, Jack could see that it had darkened outside. He had thought he could balance his sleepless nights with a nap after lunch. Apparently, nightmares were on duty daytime too.

Pushing away the bedclothes with a sudden anger, Jack made his way towards the window and opened it, taking in the cool breeze from the night. Every time he closed his eyes, the last image from his nightmare would come and haunt him again, sometimes with Charlie’s face, sometime with Daniel’s.

‘Daniel’s ok… Daniel would never take his own life… Daniel doesn’t even own a gun, for crying out loud!’ Jack started a silent mantra, pushing the remains of the nightmare away, ‘Daniel’s just fine… we’re all just damn fine!’

It wasn’t working. This time he had to check for himself. Dressing himself with the first sweater and pants he saw in his path, Jack took his car keys and left his house in a hurry.

*’*’*’*

Sam had drove to Daniel apartment in record time… no, make that in beyond speed limits time.

And of course, the fact that at that time of the night there was few or almost no traffic in this part of town helped too… ‘help them not to crash in to another car’ Janet thought as she raised her shaking legs from the car’s seat.

Forcing herself to keep up with Teal’c’s and Sam’s longer legs, the three of them entered Daniel building and, like cyclonic wind, stormed through the doorman with out even seeing him.

Taking a, too slow for their wishes, elevator, they finally arrived to the eighth floor, only to turn the corner on the corridor to the third apartment and catch a hunched figure fumbling around the young man’s door lock.

"Colonel?!" both women let out, caught up in the strange situation. Was that Colonel O’Neill really picking Daniel’s door?

Jack looked up and saw them, his face mirroring Sylvester with little yellow Tweety between his teeth.

In a matter of seconds the look was gone from his face and he had resumed his work, like they weren’t there at all.

"Teal’c… Carter… Frazier… what’cha all doing here?" he asked between a concentrate frown and clenched teeth, keeping his tone casual.

"Sir?… hum, with all due respect…what the hell are you doing?" Sam asked him in a hushed tone, afraid that any of Daniel’s neighbors could come out and see what the commotion was all about.

It wouldn’t look good to catch an Air Force Official acting like a common thief.

Jack kept his focus on the lock as he answered her.

"What does it look I’m doing Major?" come the sarcastic murmured tone.

"Why are you doing it so?" Teal’c asked him in turn, his eyebrow showing just what he thought of O’Neill’s strange actions.

The Colonel took the tiny piece of metal he had inserted on the door’s lock and shoved it in his jacket’s pocket.

"He wasn’t answering" he said in an emotionless voice.

"Then why didn’t you just ask the doorman to let you in, Sir?" Janet asked in a reprove tone. Did he have any clue on just how illegal this was?

A look of fear crossed the Colonel’s eyes. He could have called the doorman, but he hadn’t.

He couldn’t do that… it would be too close to his nightmare for comfort, so, he hadn’t.

"That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?" he said, taking his refuge in sarcasm to hide his worries and the cold tremble that raced through his body.

Carefully touching the door with his open hand, Jack gave it a little shove, opening it. "Ladies first?"

Sending a nervous look around the corridor, just to make sure that none of the neighbors was actually seeing them braking and entering Daniel’s house, Sam lead the way in to the dark apartment.

Inside, the silence was oppressing, the only sound being their own heavy breathing and the rain that had started to pour outside.

"Daniel?" Sam called out, her voice cutting like a beam of light through Jack’s dark thoughts.

No one answered back.

This wasn’t good.

This was too damn like his damn dream for Jack’s liking.

"I’ll… I’ll go check in his bedroom," the Colonel said past the lump in his throat.

With his heart thundering against his chest and his head silently repeating over and over that this wasn’t his dream, that Daniel didn’t had a gun, that he wouldn’t find Daniel like he had found his kid, that Daniel was too stubborn to put an end to his own life, the Colonel open the door of the dark room, his eyes closing before he could actually see what lay ahead, ‘Please God…’

Opening the light and his eyes in a momentarily resolution, Jack saw an empty bedroom.

The bed was tightly made. No gun on its top. No body on the floor either. Nothing there besides some clothes on a chair, a pile of books in the corner and a coffee mug on the nightstand.

Jack let out the breath he had been holding hostage in his chest.

"It appears that DanielJackson is not home" Teal’c said from behind him, his always silent footsteps given Jack a start.

"Teal’c! I’m a man of old age… I could’ve a heart attack here!" he let out.

Teal’c eyed him carefully.

"You are not older than myself O’Neill" he said in a tone that could almost pass as a ‘don’t be a pussy’ tone.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Jack was sure that the former Jaffa had a blast pulling their collective legs.

"Right" Jack said, following the larger man in to the, now lighted, living room, to join the women, "anyway, his car is parked up front so, he couldn’t’ve gotten far"

"Maybe he went for a walk…" Sam said, her fingers lazily racing through Daniel’s piano, wondering if her friend knew how to play it. He certainly had the fingers for it.

"Maybe… let’s just check the roof first, ok?" the Colonel said matter-of-factly.

Everyone turned to face him. The roof?

"I caught him there once… after Sha’re’s death" Jack said, taking a piece of dark clay from one of Daniel’s shelves and turning it in his hands. It kind of looked like a woman, even if all he could see were breast and stomach, " he said he like it up there, that it was a good place for him to clear his head" he said, putting the piece of pottery back in place. By the way it look ancient, it was probably too expensive for him to break.

Outside, the dark clouds against the redden night sky, were crying their souls to earth, soaking everything and everyone in their path.

Four wet figures made their ways separately through the roof floor, looking for their missing friend, even though the chances of finding him outside, with this weather, were as near as Sam could figure, from slim to none.

A sneeze in the dark told her that slim had won.

On the far side of the roof, against one of the walls of the elevator’s maintenance house, Daniel was seated in the wet floor, legs close to his chest and his arms and head resting on his knees.

"Daniel?" Jack called out, nearing his friend.

The soaked young man raised his head and turned his face towards the sound, squinting his eyes behind the useless wet lens.

He really couldn’t recognize the shadowish figures that were nearing him, but the voice was familiar.

"Jack?" he asked the shadow "what’re you doing here?" he said, taking off his glasses. He had better chances of seeing anything at all without them.

Jack crunched near him "It’s my cleaning chimneys day" he said, taking in Daniel’s clinging wet clothes and his shivering body, "what’s your excuse?"

"Thinking" he said in a whisper, "running away" he added in an even lower voice.

Jack had no need to ask from what. He wanted to run away from the nightmares too. To run away from the brutal flashbacks. Run away from the panic that came from out of nowhere and threatened to engulf him in its dark fangs. Only difference was he usually did his running in to a bottle of whiskey.

"Its raining, Daniel" he said, sure that he was given fresh news to the young man, "what do you say we take this thinking and finish it inside?" he asked in a gentle voice, the back of his eye catching the agreeing nod from good ol’ doc Frazier.

"Sure" Daniel said, his mouth voicing a word that obviously didn’t made any sort of sense for him, because he remained seated.

Silence and rain descended upon them as all waited for Daniel to move.

But he didn’t.

"Colonel…" Janet called out to the older man, sending a silent message with her eyes.

The Colonel rolled his eyes up and crunched down with his hands under Daniel’s arm pits, " Come on buddy… time to go home" he said, an ‘uff’ of air escaping his lips as he raised the other man up, "Now… lets get those legs moving, shall we?"

Teal’c moved to his side, supporting half of Daniel as he almost crashed back on the ground after the Colonel raised him.

Janet’s hand flew high to feel the young man’s forehead.

"He’s freezing!"

"No shit… it’s not exactly hot out here" the Colonel whispered between his teeth passing through the door Sam had opened for them.

The chilly night and the rain had managed to go through every lair of clothing, sending small shivers all over their bodies. The warm air-conditioned environment of Daniel’s apartment was a welcome change to all, making them start to fell a little warmer.

All except Daniel that, assaulted by the temperature difference had started shaking out of control.

"We have to get him warm again… lets get him out of this wet clothes and in to a warm bath" Janet planned ahead, "Colonel, Teal’c… I could use your help" she said, moving towards where she guessed the bathroom was. "Find him something warm to wear, will you, Sam?" she called back.

"Sure", the Major said, moving to Daniel’s bedroom.

The Colonel had let the lights on.

Looking around the large room, Sam soon found what she was looking for. A quick search through Daniel’s closet produced a grey sweater and some baggy pants. Both looked warm enough to her. On the top drawer she found boxers and socks, taking a par of each, her hands moving on automatic, while her mind tried to ignore her screaming heart.

Her team was falling apart.

The Colonels’ haunted eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. The deep bags under them told her of his sleepless nights and scary dreams.

She should know it. Her nights were the same.

Teal’c looked distress too. This terrible mess was playing its tool on the alien man as well, that much she could see in his dark eyes, the solemn pools that always seemed distant to all, but that SG1 could read like an open book. He was in pain, they all were, but she didn’t feel strong enough to help any, to take each aside and give them the words they needed to hear.

Slowly she made her way to the bathroom, the sound of running water guiding her.

The door was open ajar, with Daniel’s soaked clothes all scattered along the floor, damping the green carpets.

Janet and Teal’c were silent, looking at the drown curtains of the shower. Inside it, the Colonel’s soft voice could barely be heard above the running water.

"I think we’d better find something for the Colonel too" Janet said, seeing the clothing Sam held pressed tight against her chest.

The Colonel was in the shower with Daniel?

"Ah… right" she said, looking a bit lost, "I’ll go get them"

"I’ll go with you" the medic said, taking the clothes out of Sam’s arms and trusting them in to Teal’c’s. "Colonel?" she called out, rising her voice just above the sound of water.

"Yeah?"

"Two more minutes. Then bring him out and give him a good towel rub. Sam already brought his clothes, so get him in them and then straight to bed, ok?" she instructed him.

"Ok" came the muffled voice.

Sam was running through Daniel’s wardrobe. Again.

He sure had a lot of checked shirts. And there it was that blue one that looked so nice on him. And the black shirt, the one that they had given him on his last birthday. Where had they gone on that day? Oh, yeah… they had spent all afternoon in the Zoo, showing Teal’c all of Earth’s animals that the alien man still wasn’t familiar with and having fun while doing it. Well, they had fun. The Colonel was pissed because of the watch he had lost, but then again, he had been warned about not putting his hand inside the gorilla’s cage.

"Sam?" Janet called out to her from her place at Daniel’s, now open, bed. The other woman had been staring off in to space for the last couple of minutes, her eyes dazzled over with what seemed like distant memories.

"Uh?" she grunted, snapping out of her daydreaming.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah… fine… I was just looking at Daniel’s shirts" she replied absent-minded.

Janet frowned. What was so special about Daniel’s shirts?

Before she could answer herself, Sam did an about turn to face her.

"Janet… what’s going on?" she asked her friend.

The troubled look in her face made Janet’s own heart ache.

" What do you mean?"

So much had been going on lately.

"All of this… us… Daniel" Sam whispered.

The water in the bathroom had been silenced.

"Delay response, I think" Janet said, her face thoughtful as she seated on the soft bed, her hands smoothing the sheet’s ripples.

Sam gave her the owl look. "He, just like the rest of you, is reacting to everything that’s happened.

And there was a lot to react to.

‘It’s a healthy thing… as soon as he snaps out of this!’ Janet thought to herself.

Hearing the three men nearing the room now, the physician stood from the bed and joined Sam on the closet.

Daniel’s hair was still damp, but he was already looking much warmer. His nose was red, but Janet couldn’t be sure if that was from the temperature changes or something else.

And she wasn’t going to ask.

"How’re you feeling now, Daniel?" she asked instead, placing her hand on his forehead, feeling for any temperature.

Daniel turned his attention from the floor to her face.

"Better…" he said, meeting her eyes, "look, I’m really sorry I scared you guys" he blew out for all, sensing the worried look in their eyes. The eyes he couldn’t bring himself to meet fro more than a few seconds.

Janet looked him over. The glazed look from before was gone now, replaced by a reddened, puffy one. A definitely better one, if you asked her. Not quite great yet, but on the way there.

" How about I take a look at your bandage now?" she said, smoothing him towards the inviting bed.

"Ok"

"Why don’t you folks wait a little in the living room while I finish this up?" she asked the rest of the team.

Janet could feel three pairs of eyes burning in her back, the sense of worry so thick inside that room that she could almost grab it as a physical thing.

"Sam… my bag… I left it in the hall… could you?"

"Sure"

And they left.

When Sam returned with the bag, the old bandage on Daniel’s abdomen was already gone, exposing a neat line of tiny stitches along his right side, the skin around it whiter than the rest and looking puffy.

"Thanks Sam" Janet said, taking the bag from her friend hands and returning to the task of inspecting stitches and see if all was still where and how it was supposed to be.

Sam stayed, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes fixed on Daniel. Taking advantage of the fact that, from where she was and with his sweater pulled up to his neck, Daniel couldn’t see her, the Major analyzed her friend’s pose. She wanted to see with her own eyes that ‘healing’ that Janet assured her to be there, but she hadn’t been able to see yet.

Daniel looked depressed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling above, trying very hard not to moan at Janet’s gentle touch around the far too recent stitches.

"Sam?"

The Major cringed inside. That made twice in the same hour that the doctor called her with that tone, tearing her back from her distant thoughts, twice that Janet had caught her staring off in to space. Not a good thing when Janet, besides being her friend, was also the main physician of a base where she was trying to return to active duty. No use in given the medic more reasons to deny her the clean health bill or make up for more appointments with the base’s psychologist.

"I’ll be out side" she said hurriedly, before Janet could ask anything.

Time for a strategic retreat back to the rest of her team.

"You’re worried about her" Daniel said, diverting his eyes from the ceiling. It hadn’t been a question, just the stating of a fact.

"I’m worried about all of you" Janet confessed, meeting his stare, " Daniel… you’ve all been through a very, very stressful situation…" she started, wanting to start that conversation that she had both longed and feared for so long, " a couple of situations, to be more precise"

Daniel’s eyes ‘escaped’ her grasp once more. This was not something that he wanted to talk about.

Janet pretended not to understand the signs. Under her care, while she re-wrapped his wound, he had no where to escape to.

"Daniel… I understand that this is difficult matter for you… for all of you… and I understand that each of you has one unique way do deal with this turmoil of emotions that you’re bound to feel right now…".

Her hands stopped her fussing for a while and her fingers brushed Daniel’s chin, softly turning his head towards her, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Daniel… you guys are like a family to each other… this would be easier for all of you if you would go through it together, as a team, like you’ll always did… let them help you… help them, Daniel!" she said, trying to keep her own feelings under control, pleading to the ‘conscious’ of the team to save it.

Daniel was silent through her speech, apparently just waiting for her to finish her job to tune her out.

But he knew she was right.

He had sensed Sam’s eyes on him. He had catch the haunted look on Jack’s face, the one he had tried to hide in the shower, when he had saw Daniel’s back, a bitter reminder of all that had happen. Not even Teal’c could face him and hide the worry that had been his bitter companion for so long.

Daniel wondered if Sam and Jack avoided looking at their own scars, just like he did; if they also tried to ignore the undeniable proves that it hadn’t all been a nightmare.

He wondered if they too had flashbacks so strong that their stomachs rebelled inside their bodies before exploding in nausea, so strong and grasping that they couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t bring themselves to open their eyes, afraid to be back on those cells…

He wondered, but he had no idea. They were both soldiers… maybe they had been taught to deal with this… maybe not…

Maybe it was time he found out…

Janet had finished redressing his abdomen in silence, pulling his sweater down and tucking him in, just like she did with Cassandra whenever she could.

It felt good. Cozy. Protective.

"Janet?" Daniel called to her, his voice just above a whisper.

She looked back at him, her hands still poised on the bed clothing. "Would you call them here for me?" he asked in a shaky voice, still not that sure if this was the right thing to do.

Well, he knew it was, he just wasn’t so sure if he was ready to do it!

Janet smiled at him, realizing that he would try. "Sure"

"Janet?"

The medic paused near the door again and turned to face him, lost among the bed sheets.

"Thanks" Daniel said, an honest attempt of a smile reaching his lips.

Janet’s smile got wider. "Any time, Daniel… any time"

The rest of SG1 lay scattered around Daniel’s living room.

Teal’c was standing, hands behind his back in a tense position that in him, somehow, transmitted a relaxed pose. His head was slightly tilted, as he carefully analyzed the covers of Daniel’s books on one of the room’s many bookshelves.

Across from him, with her elbows supported by the window frame and her arms crossed in front of her, hugging her shoulders, Sam was staring off outside, the mesmerizing sound and sight of the pouring rain capturing her mind and releasing her heart. The streetlights danced on her wet cheeks.

And Jack, with his back turned to all, was once again playing with one of Daniel’s ‘this-should-be-in-a-museum’ decoration item, pieces of the man’s work. Study. Life.

When he saw Janet leaving Daniel’s room, the piece was carefully replaced where it belonged, forgotten.

"How is he?" the Colonel asked in a voice loaded with unmasked concern.

Sam and Teal’c turned to face her, the Major quickly and stealth fully wiping the wetness from her face.

"He’s better now… calmer" she explained to them, "he wants to talk to you".

"With me?" Jack asked, as she was still facing him.

"With all of you"

Feeling as dreadfully as on the day that his grandfather had called all his grandchildren in to his bedroom, minutes before he passed away, Jack took point, Sam and Teal’c right behind him.

Somehow, they all knew with a déjà vu certainty that this was the time they faced their fears, their frustrations… the time they and their demons met… and fight.

Janet stood, looking at the door closing behind them. She didn’t stay longer after that. Her job was done, both as a medic as a friend.

Closing the picked up door behind her, Janet Frazier left SG1 healing with a smile on her face. They would find their way. As a team.

*’*’*’*

No one ever found out what happened on that house that night, but everyone knew it had had positive results.

The next appointment that the members of SG1 had with the base’s psychologist was, by Janet suggestion, a group one.

And this time, they even showed up, all four of them. Body and soul, not just the physical presence that had graced the other appointments.

By the end of the month, Jack O’Neill was wisecracking again, something that no one would confess, but all missed.

Small step by small step, SG1 was returning from the dark places their souls had been forced in too.

Small but sure steps in the right direction…

… towards a better future.

The workers had left two days ago, their job of remodeling the old house finished on the deadline that they had promised.

A fine job, in the words of the man in charge. And it really was. The house bared small resemblances with its old self.

The front side had been restored, paint and plaster combined to wash years away, even if still retaining the main structure and architecture of the beginnings of the century.

The inside had been changed too. Lost were the dark, cold and depressing rooms, replaced by open areas and light colors. Windows took form where only grey walls had stood. The yellow room, as its contents, was gone… and with it the old ways and concepts of mental care.

Lazarus didn’t look like the same place at all. And it wasn’t the same place.

With the old administration border gone and properly punished for all that had happen in that institution for so many years, most of the old employees had followed. The ones that had not gone by themselves, were dismissed.

New blood was eager to start its functions.

Lazarus wasn’t Lazarus anymore. The Phoenix had done it again and reborn from its own ashes.

‘*’*’*’*

It had been a long journey, but they had finally gotten there.

Literally and figuratively.

Jack parked his car behind the others and looked around. It seemed just like yesterday when he had last been there, yet, so much had happen.

Last time, his journey here had been a much more troubled one, darks thoughts about the fate of his friend clouding his mind at the time, blurring his eyes to the beautiful surroundings of this place.

And, most important of all, this time, his friend was safely seated beside him, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You’re ready for this?" Jack asked in a low tone, even though he knew Sam and Teal’c, in the back seats, had heard his words.

Daniel looked from him to the big house, the same that had been a part of the nightmare his life was only three months ago.

An unbidden shiver worked its way all along his spine. That part of his life was over, dealt with, buried. Finished.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel let all those memories flow through his mind and go back to the shelter they had come from. What had happen there belonged in the past and wouldn’t happen again, to no one else.

That much they had made sure of.

"Yeah" Daniel finally replied the Colonel, adding a sincere smile for effect, so that the other man could tell that his lips were telling the truth and not just what everyone wanted to hear.

"Good… then lets get this over with!" Jack said, opening the door and moving towards the crowd.

The back yard of the old house, now turned in to a colorful garden, was already flooding with people, in between guest, new workers, new administration, the governor and his crew, a few of the old patients and their families.

Out in the back, a small band played a quiet tune, something classic, the soft notes blending in the surrounding Nature, going unnoticed but welcome.

The place had been all ‘dressed up’ for the reception. Long tables, lined up beside the rows of plastic chairs in the middle, sat decorated with flowers and filled with all sorts of food items, patiently awaiting the ceremony’s end so that everyone could fest.

A small stand had been raised up front, the microphone set and ready for the first speech.

"Anyone sees the General or Janet?" Sam asked, standing on her tiptoes, trying to add those extra inches so that she could see above all the surrounding heads.

"I do not" Teal’c quietly said, from his favored point of view.

As a sort of repay for all the troubles SG1 had gone through, beyond the call of duty, so to speak, the President had taken upon his committee to find a fund that could be applied to the Lazarus situation. It had taken some hard work, but the fund had been found, partially reinstored from an old idea of creating this sort of facilities for those who had no one to look after them, partially created from ground zero.

A new project had born from there.

Grasping back the philosophy that had been the foundation of Lazarus in its glory days, the new place was open to all that needed its care, both as a healing place as a place for the learning of new ways, new treatments, new chances for those that were cast out as antisocial, lunatics or simply bizarre.

SGC and SG1 in special had been invited for the official opening, the General, as leader of SCG, being asked to uncover the inauguration plate and give a small speech.

Since both General Hammond and Dr. Frazier had had some business to attend before leaving SGC, they had agreed to fly over later and meet SG1 there.

The team, on the other hand, had taken the opportunity to do some sight seeing and have what the Colonel had called ‘an old fashion field trip’, which for the rest had translated in ‘fun and sore butts’.

All in all, a good chance to kick back, relax and enjoy themselves.

Pulling up the sleeve on his suite’s coat, Daniel frowned to his watch.

"They’re late" he talked to Jack’s back, as the four of them slowly made their way towards the front seats.

The governor had already started his speech, a warm welcome not so subtly mixed with new promises for the upcoming elections.

The new director followed, a short guy with bald head and metal-framed glasses, more down-to-Earth in his speech, with reassurances that this would indeed become a better place, where respect and humanity would be key words, a speech that had brought tears to the eyes of some of the patients that had been allowed to attend.

Daniel was so engrossed in the man’s words that he nearly missed Jack’s cell phone playing its low tune and the short-words basis conversation that followed.

Jack put the phone away and pulled Daniel’s sleeve.

"What?" he asked in a whisper, conscious of the dirty looks the other guests were already sending their way.

"That was the General" the Colonel whispered back "he said something came up at the airport… they wont make it in time"

"What?!" Daniel forced his voice down, looking up to the podium and the man currently talking. The General was supposed to speak next.

"He asked if you could do the honors for him" Jack said with a side-glance to the stand.

"What?!" Daniel said, forgetting to lower his tone of voice. A few more heads turned his way, the speaker included. A very embarrassed Daniel mouthed a ‘sorry’ towards the speaker and then resumed his glare in the Jack’s direction. "I can’t do that" he said, resuming the whispered talk.

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, someone’s got’ra do it" he replied matter-of-factly " besides, its not like we’re asking you to give a lecture on cross polarization of ancient cultures" Jack ginned, catching Daniel evil glare "you just have to go there and pull a thingsy bitsy piece of cloth… can’t be that hard!" Jack finished, choosing to let out ‘the speech’ part. Maybe Daniel wouldn’t remember it and would just go with the flow.

"What about the speech the General was supposed to do?"

Hum… no such luck.

"Just a few words Daniel… shouldn’t be that hard for you, after all, it’s the ‘not talking’ part that you usually have trouble with" Jack said, aware that he had just earned another evil glare from his friend.

Daniel drooped the glare and resumed his suffering look.

"I can’t do this Jack… I haven’t prepared anything to say… gosh… I have no idea of what to say!" Daniel said, his voice braking from the effort of talking in hushed tones for so long, "Why don’t we just asked the governor to do it?" he pressed on, too aware that the director’s speech was nearing its end.

This time it was the Colonel glaring.

‘Come on Danny… don’t ruined this… we put a lot of work in to this surprise’ he thought, remembering how hard it had been to ‘cook up’ all this ‘conspiracy’ behind Daniel’s back in the last few days.

‘The governor?!… No way José!’ Jack thought.

"Because you’re better looking" Jack replied, not even taking for serious Daniel’s suggestion.

He could see in his friends face that he wasn’t getting the point here, "Because he didn’t knew her Danny… you did!" he finally laid it out plain to see.

Understanding started to reach the blue orbs. As a cue, Daniel could hear his name being called on the micro.

"… Dr. Jackson, could you please stand and do the honors?" the director called to him with a warm smile on his face.

Sensing Jack’s hand on his back, smoothly urging him to stand and go, Daniel made his way towards the front on automatic, his mind racing to find the words to say, something, anything, so that he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself.

It took a couple of seconds for his numbed brain to register the fact that he had actually been called by name. How the hell could the direct know that…

The words ‘sucker’ formed in his mind in bright colors.

They had set him up!

‘Those no good, sneaky, deceiving…

"Welcome Dr. Jackson! It’s a pleasure to meet you!" the director said, his hand firmly shaking the newly arrived young man.

… bastards are the best friends I could ever which for!’ Daniel thought to himself, smiling to the man shaking his hand and directing him towards the covered plate, on the base of the marble sculpture.

Daniel raised his eyes from the mesmerizing white figure, searching the crowd for his friends. Teal’c, Sam and Jack sat in the front row, where he’d left them, goofy smiles on their faces, or as close as Teal’c would ever come of that.

Behind them, the General and Janet had already taken their seats, their part on that plot over.

"Dr. Jackson…" the director called him back to reality "Just say a few words and uncovered the plate" he whispered, sensing that the other man was a bit lost.

Daniel nodded and diverted his gaze towards the rest of the people there, wanting for him to say something.

So many had come…

His eyes wandered through the marble statue of a woman, clad in ancient Greece cloths. One of her hands hold a lighted torch while the other supported a long stick with a snake coiled around it.

The tall statue in front of him was an incredible reproduction of the one made by Knidos and Daniel couldn’t help but to raise one hand to touch it, recognizing whom it represented.

"Demeter" he said like someone meeting an old friend, "the Greek goddess of Earth, Gaia, protector of Mankind and teacher of societies" he said almost to himself.

His hand left the statue and he faced the seated crowd.

"When her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped by the lord of the underworld, Hades, Demeter wandered through all the land, disguised as an old woman, in search for her lost child. The torch in her hand symbolizes that quest. In the end, she succeeded and Persephone returned to her side, even if, according to Greek mythology, each year the story was bound to repeat itself.

You see, they believe that when Demeter was happy, with her daughter by her side, Nature blossom and the fields grew strong with life and when Persephone returned to Hades, leaving her mother alone, Demeter’s sadness brought winter to Earth, in an endless cycle of quest and fulfillment of goals" Daniel said to the attentive people in front of him.

Jack, from his seat, couldn’t help to shake his head in silent amusement. Only Daniel to turn an improvised speech in to a full lecture on Ancient Greece mythology.

"This place" Daniel went on, " this place has been through a long and cruel winter. For those it housed, words like hope, kindness, understanding, respect and love were nothing more than conjugations of letters and sounds" he said, recalling the faces of all the other patients that he had met there, the faces that sometimes still came back to haunt him when he closed his eyes.

"This place and its rigorous winter had stripped those words of their meaning, leaving them hollow and cold. Pointless.

Even so, I met one person that had refused to forget their meaning and fought for their importance.

Because through the thickest darkness, light can shine, Mary Orson was to this place as bright as a star in the winter sky.

Her strength guided many lost souls, supported many suffering hearts… saved many lives" Daniel said, sadly remembering all the names that had been taken from the files of the old board. Names of countless lives condemned to a non-existence, persons that like him, hadn’t belonged in Lazarus, persons that would have faded away into themselves if they hadn’t been fortunate enough to meet Mary and be helped by her, one way or the other. She had been able to help so many… he had just been one among many, the one that had cost her her life.

Mary Orson was one unsung hero that would not go unsung.

"And now, Demeter is smiling upon this place once again. The winter is over and flowers can once again blossom with out fear of being squashed away.

And now, the forgotten words, whispered by one in the dark, will be bared with pride by all in the light, for Mary Orson’s ways will no longer be the exception, but the rule!" Daniel finished, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Under the watchful eyes and clapping hands of the people that were no longer seated, but standing in ovation, Daniel reached for the soft cloth covering the carved base at the ancient goddess feet and let the inscription there see the light of day.

The words ‘Orson Foundation, for Search, Development and Care in Mental Health’ shined in the afternoon sun.

Wow people… I cant believe that this story is finally over… its been almost ONE year!
I want to thank all that had the patient and courage to came all this way, for all this time… I hope the story hasn’t disappointed any of you because, from my side, it was a pleasure to share it.
Be well,
Natty

© June 22, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.