Colonel Jack O'Neill jumped off the bottom step of the Stargate dais and inhaled a deep breath. The fresh, pine aroma a pleasant contrast to the purified air-conditioned corridors of the SGC. "Welcome to P2C959. Weather's warm, no one to greet us, but trees of course, lots and lots of trees." He turned to watch the rest of his team descend toward him. The wormhole disengaged with a 'swoosh' and it's shimmering light evaporated.

"Sir, the UAV detected buildings in that direction." Major Samantha Carter looked up from the box of tricks she was studying to point off to the left of the Stargate, toward the dense woodland.

"Guess that's the way we'll be going then," O'Neill moved to follow SG-1's civilian team member Doctor Daniel Jackson, who strode off purposefully, head down, shoulders hunched.

Teal'c, ex-First Prime of Apophis, silently brought up the rear, his eyes constantly surveying their surroundings.

"So, Daniel, any idea what we can expect here ?" O'Neill lengthened his stride for a few paces until he caught up with the archaeologist.

"Mmm ?" The younger man lifted his head to reply, "Oh, well, the UAV sent back a few pictures of what might be dwellings and maybe a temple; fairly primitive by the looks of it. There weren't any recent signs of life though."

The two men continued through the forest as they talked, stepping over or around the fallen branches and small bushes that littered the ground beneath the tall firs.

"They could be hiding, the UAV would be a pretty scary thing for 'primitives'," O'Neill put up his hands to animate the quote marks.

"Possibly…" Daniel thought for a moment. "But I think…if there was anybody about when the UAV flew over and they ran off, there would be some indication. Dropped… er…" he searched for a word among the millions he knew for one that sufficiently conveyed the description, "stuff," 'that'll do, seeing as it's only for Jack's ears anyway,' "or… or unfinished work and there was no smoke." Seeing the familiar vacant look on O'Neill's face, he explained, the words a little too rapid in his usual haste to impart as much knowledge as he could in as short a time as possible. "Nearly all primitive civilisations would have a continuous fire burning somewhere in the village and..."

"Okay, I get the point." O'Neill stopped the diatribe before it could turn into a full-blown lecture on ancient cultures.

Daniel's brow crinkled as his head dropped back down. 'No wonder I talk so fast,' he thought as they clambered over a horizontal, termite ridden tree trunk. 'It's always been the same, people barely give me the time to get the relevant information out before they switch off.' He rubbed his hands together, the bits of bark that had stuck to them flying off; and watched the Colonel march ahead. 'One day, someone will listen to me,' he thought miserably as he fell into step behind the older man. Then he realised that they did, sometimes, when bad stuff happened and they needed bailing out, then they listened. 'If only they took the time first, maybe the bad stuff wouldn't be so... bad.'

It had taken almost an hour to walk to the remains of the settlement. When it became clear that the place was indeed deserted, the team split up to look around. Carter immediately set off with Teal'c to find the UAV which had landed nearby. O'Neill continued to scout round the village, peering into the crumbling huts, weapon ready for any surprises.

Daniel made straight for the temple. Religious buildings were particularly useful for determining the development and sometimes the demise of civilisations. If the people who had lived here had any writing system that would be the most obvious place for it. He also hoped he might find some evidence as to why they had left.

"Find anything ?" O'Neill paused just inside the entrance of the temple, letting his eyes readjust to the dim interior. A flashlight whipped round to shine on him and he had to shield his face from the glare. "Daniel !"

"Oh hi, Jack. Sorry." He directed the bright beam away from his friend. "Yes, actually this is really interesting…"

"Really ?" O'Neill questioned, still rubbing his eyes furiously and completely failing to see the appeal of a bunch of rocks.

"Yeah, look at these scrolls for a start."

The excitement in Daniel's voice made O'Neill grin inwardly as he watched him scan the brittle, yellowed sheets that he was holding.

"The writing, it's similar to Cantonese, but I'll have to do a bit of homework before I can decipher it fully…" he trailed off, his mind already working on the translation. He carefully re-rolled the scrolls and placed them in his pack, then walked over to what appeared to be the temple's altar. He gently fingered each small statuette from the row adorning the low table. "And the style of the carving on these," picking one up for closer inspection, "is like that of fourth dynasty China, so I guess its fairly safe to say…" he placed the icon back exactly, "that the people that lived here are most likely from China originally. Even the architecture…"

A hand raised in front of him. "So, any idea why they are not still living here ?" O'Neill's military mind was still thinking of threat assessment.

"Umm, no, not yet." Daniel was still moving around the floor, eyes trying to take it all in. He stopped by an alcove, panning the flashlight ray over the shelves. "Oh, now, this looks familiar." He picked up a black lacquered box, roughly six inches square and flicked open the lid.

"For crying out loud. "Knowing the archaeologist's penchant for attracting trouble, O'Neill could hardly bare to watch. "Daniel, do you think you should be doing that ?"

"It's okay, I've seen something like this before…"

"What is it ?"

"I can't remember. There's an inscription on the lid, but it's badly worn," he said, more to himself than his companion. "I'm sure I've got a piece like this back home," he muttered, pulling one of several metallic balls from inside.

"A game of marbles perhaps ?"

O'Neill's levity was completely ignored. "No, I don't think so." Daniel turned the orb around in the light of the torch. It was a little smaller than a table tennis ball with groups of characters engraved on it, varying in size. There was one tiny hole from which hair-width channels radiated out, stopping at another groove that ran round it at the widest circumference, giving the appearance of closed petals on a flower bud. "It looks like it might open up. Can we take them back with us ?" He looked hopefully at the older man. "Maybe Sam would have some ideas…"

"Do you think it's safe ?"

"Well, like I said, I'm sure I've got one already, so…" Daniel reasoned.

O'Neill gave in to the clear blue stare. "Okay, but be careful."

"Always am." Daniel stowed the box in his pack; mindful of the fragile papers already in there.

O'Neill's eyes widened as he stared incredulously at the archaeologist. Several sarcastic comebacks tickled his mind, but none made the journey to his mouth - a futile gesture if ever there would be one. Daniel Jackson and the concept of taking care of oneself were mutually exclusive entities.

Perhaps he ought to get him certified as an artefact - then he would have to keep himself in cotton wool…

***

"Sam, wait !" Daniel puffed as he caught up with Carter on the way to her lab, early the next morning.

"Hi, Daniel, what's up ?" She turned with one of her dazzling smiles.

"I found the matching artefact at home, I've brought it in. Can we have a look at the set ?"

"Sure."

"Great. There's just one thing…" Daniel drawled, uncertainty evident in his tone.

"What ?" She knew she was going to regret asking.

"Well, I've been doing some work on the translation and there's something I can't quite get, but I have a feeling that we might want to work on this in one of the isolation labs…" He bit his bottom lip and looked at her meaningfully.

"You're saying these things are dangerous ?" her voice rose worriedly. 'The Colonel's gonna kill you Daniel,' she continued to herself.

"Well, not saying exactly, but…" Daniel folded his arms around himself defensively.

"Oh boy." Carter shook her head. "Come on then."

***

It had been several hours since O'Neill had found the note left on his desk telling him where his team mates were going to be. He had waited around the commissary for a while, expecting at least one of them to turn up for lunch, but when neither of them had made an appearance, he decided to see what they were up to.

Standing in the doorway, he watched the two scientists work, oblivious to his presence. Silently he stepped inside. "You two hiding down here ?"

"Don't do that Sir !" Carter nearly dropped the artefact she held.

"Hammond wants a report on progress."

"I'll drop one by later," Daniel offered.

"I think 'immediately' was in the sentence he used to me and I wouldn't repeat some of the other words he used with delicate ears present."

Sam gave him a withering glance.

"What ?" he retorted. "I was talking about Daniel."

"Ha, ha." The younger man's voice full of sarcasm was only just louder than the snort of laughter that erupted from Carter.

"Okay, give me a minute." Daniel pushed up his glasses and began typing at a nearby keyboard.

"So, how is it going ?" O'Neill picked up one of the balls, only to have it snatched back by his 2IC.

"It's difficult, Sir, Daniel's still working on the translation. They appear to be mechanical, but we're not sure what they would be used for and we haven't been able to open one yet."

"You could use a hammer," he quipped unhelpfully and received an irate glare from both scientists.

Daniel finished typing and stood impatiently by the printer, willing the paper into his hand. "There's a phrase that's puzzling me. It's seems to read 'delayed in action' but I haven't been able to figure out the context."

O'Neill took in this snippet of information, but quickly shelved it at the back of his mind. 'Details - not necessary until we figure out what the thing is,' he rationalized.

"Why are you doing this down here anyway ?" his eyes went from one scientist to the other.

"What's wrong with your lab, Carter ? Especially as Hammond is expecting an update on the mods for the reactor you're supposed to be working on."

"Daniel thought it might be safer to do this in isolation, Sir."

As O'Neill's gaze turned ominously to the younger man, Daniel thought, 'Thanks Sam drop me right in it, why don't you ?' He returned a sheepish expression, head down, eyes up.

"Really ?" O'Neill relished watching the archaeologist squirm under his best 'melt a new recruit at ten paces' glare. "And why would that be, Daniel ?"

"Well, there's a symbol on each of the… er…" he hesitated, deciding which word best described the artefacts. With a thoughtful blink he carried on, "devices… and I'm not exactly sure what it represents, but my best guess would be that it depicts an explosion."

"They're bombs ?" O'Neill's eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

"I don't know if that's quite the right description, I mean, for all we know right now they might just be some symbolic representation of catastrophic events, but yes, I suppose it's a possibility."

"Sweet."

"Jack, I've had one of these for years, it's survived being handled, dropped, packed and unpacked, so it can't be all that volatile." Daniel rolled a ball around in his fingers, hoping to dispel some of O'Neill's obvious irritation. "Anyway," he retrieved two sheets of paper from the printer, "I'll just run this up to General Hammond." and beat a hasty retreat.

"And what do you think, Carter ?" O'Neill returned his attention to the young woman.

"They're made of an unknown compound, Sir. I've managed to get some samples to test, but it's going to take some time."

He nodded, "Keep me informed. I've got some things to attend to. Have fun." and left.

"Yes, Sir." She blew out a long puff of air before returning to her work.

***

When Daniel came back, he picked up a second ball and studied the tiny symbols on it and the one he already held. He put one down and picked up another. "Yes," he whispered, as the idea he had been contemplating on the way from Hammond's office proved to be correct.

"Care to let me in on the discovery ?" Carter wondered if Daniel even realised that she was there.

"Oh, yeah, well these markings here," he pointed to the group of the smallest characters, "they make no sense. I've been thinking that maybe they're purely a sequence of letters and numbers. These two have the same marks; so do these two, but different marks; and this one, the one that's mine is different again." He voiced his next thought out loud, "Kinda like serial numbers ?"

"So, where does that get us ?"

"I have no idea." Daniel sighed as he handled the box, for the umpteenth time. On this occasion however, something caught his eye. There was a tiny crack that went all the way round it. Easing a fingernail into the fissure, he pried the bottom of the box off. Inside there were several small, round metal plates, each with a depression in the middle about the same size as the balls.

Daniel raised his eyebrows at his colleague. She nodded as he took a device and placed it on the plate. It needed a little more pressure to press the ball firmly in place. There was a 'pop' as the connection was made.

"Oops," was all he could think of to say.

In the same instant both scientists realised what was about to happen. Daniel turned to Carter and almost threw her toward the open doorway. She landed on the floor out in the corridor, a little annoyed with the ferocity of the action and began to push herself up meaning to yell at him. Her anger, however, died a split second later as the blast knocked her back down and she lost consciousness.

Daniel, already in mid air with a desperate launch in the same direction as he had pushed Sam, was hurled against the lab wall by the explosion. As he slid gracelessly to the floor, a smudge of blood marked his descent. Crimson rivulets traced a crazy pattern from the split in his scalp down his face. Laying awkwardly, silent and still, the debris crashed down on top of him.

***

A muted 'boom' and a faint tremor that sent ripples of coffee over the rim of the mug on his desk, were the first indicators to O'Neill that something was wrong. The next sign was more obvious, the base's emergency klaxon whined into life. He knew where to go. As he began to run down the corridor to the nearest elevator, Teal'c emerged from his room. Snagging the big man as he passed, he shouted, "Come on !"

***

The dust continued to swirl about as the SFs blustered into the isolation area, armed and ready to face any threat. Carter reactively put up her hands when she saw the guns coming toward her. She coughed. Her lungs battling against the thick air as she groggily got to her feet.

"Major Carter ?" One of the airmen looked at the bedraggled woman in front of him, "What's going on ?"

"We were working on some artefacts, Daniel was..." she stopped, suddenly aware that her team mate was nowhere to be seen, "Daniel ?" She hobbled back to the lab doorway. "Daniel !" At first she saw nothing but a pile of rubble. Some of the ceiling had come down, girders lay at odd angles and chunks of concrete hung precariously by their steel reinforcing rods, not quite ready to join the ones already on the floor. The desk they had been working at had been blown apart, while other furniture and equipment had been catapulted every which way. As she stumbled into the room, her breath caught in her throat, before she managed to shout back at the men behind her, "Get a medical team down here, now!"

"They're on their way already, ma'am," was the welcome reply.

Sam tried to reach the stricken archaeologist, but the tangle of metal and fallen concrete made it impossible to negotiate with her own unsteady body.

Daniel was on his right, more or less parallel to the wall he had hit. His right arm was twisted underneath his head. One girder lay across his left side, with another on his legs just above the knees. Wide gouges channelled out of the plaster ended where both were partially embedded in the wall, saving him from being completely crushed. At near perfect right angles to these, several narrower crossbeams had come down, securing them firmly. Various pipes that served as cable ducting, added to the complicated mess and a substantial amount of broken concrete and rendering, some of it teetering unsteadily, lent more weight to the problem.

Carter called out to her friend, hoping by some miracle that he would hear her. When no response came, she tried to listen for any sound that he was still alive, but with activity now in the corridor heralding the arrival of the medics, that too was beyond her. Caught up in the horror, she was unaware of her CO's approach. She jumped when his hands clasped her arms.

"Carter," he looked into her eyes, trying to ground her thoughts. "You should be in the infirmary, Carter," he resisted the urge to shake her out of her stupor, "I'll get one of the medics to take you."

"But Daniel…" She flapped her hands toward the rubble.

"You're in no condition to help. Besides, this is going to take some time." He shouted over to one of the airmen standing in the corridor, "We need some cutting tools down here… and someone kill that damned alarm !"

Dutifully, the airman ran to the 'phone, hitting the cancel button on the wailing siren as he went.

Turning back to his 2IC, O'Neill said calmly, "Go get yourself checked out, Major."

She continued to stare dazedly at the scene of destruction, frozen with anxiety.

"That's an order, Carter," O'Neill's mellow voice became firm. "I'll let you know how we're doin' down here."

Allowing the medic to take her arm, she trudged out of the remains of the lab. Still her gaze did not leave the broken, bloody form trapped beneath the wreckage, until she was on the other side of the doorway.

It had taken all of O'Neill's resolve to deal with her first. His first instinct was to get to his badly injured friend, but that had been quashed by the look of terror on Carter's face. He had to get her out of the room. She was obviously suffering from shock and needed medical attention. It wouldn't help her to see what they were going to have to do to get Daniel free and it wouldn't help them for her to be in the way.

Now that he knew she would be taken care of, his attention was immediately on the task of removing the rubble from the linguist. He picked his way through the metalwork and lumps of concrete, to kneel by Daniel's head. The young man's hair was caked with a heavy dusting of powdered cement and plaster. His glasses must have shattered before falling off as small shards glistened amongst the red ooze over his eyelids.

"Oh, Danny," Jack breathed. He placed two fingers on the scientist's neck and was heartened to find a strong beat. O'Neill stripped off his over-shirt and rolled it up, carefully lifting Daniel's head to place it underneath. As he did so, he noticed that beneath the streaks of blood, there was a savage blue-black bruise forming along Daniel's right temple, around the eye socket and all down his cheek.

He called over to the remaining medics, who had been standing aside, waiting for the Colonel to assess the situation. "Okay, it's safe enough for the time being. Do what you can for him, while we try to shift some of this stuff."

There wasn't much room to work and the debris was proving to be rather unstable. O'Neill decided that although they wanted to free Daniel as quickly as possible, it would be easier and less dangerous to everyone to have just a few people working in the confined space. He ordered the SFs to start removing the rubble from around the doorway. Then focussed his concentration back on the more serious task. "Teal'c ! Give me a hand here." He vented his frustration with unnecessary words for the Jaffa was already at his side.

***

Dr Janet Fraiser realised something was wrong the moment she set foot inside the base for her shift. She hurried down to the infirmary, not stopping by the commissary first as she had intended to. With her stomach rumbling from hunger and churning with an ominous feeling of what she was about to step into the middle of, she strode through the double doors.

"Sam ?" Fraiser continued over to the bed that her friend was being settled onto. "What's wrong ?"

Carter was already dressed in a hospital gown, having showered to remove the dust and blood from the myriad of scratches that adorned her face, neck and arms. Several nasty looking bruises were beginning to form; a startling contrast in colour to her pallid features.

"J-Janet," the young woman started trembling, tears began to spill. "Th-thank G-God you're here,"

"What is it ?" Fraiser felt herself begin to shake now, wondering what on Earth - or not for that matter - could possibly have happened.

"D-Daniel, he's…he's…" She couldn't get the words out.

'Oh no, not again,' the thought that the archaeologist had once again met with death, shot through Fraiser's mind, but she didn't think SG-1 had been scheduled to go off-world today.

One of the nurses came to Carter's rescue. "There's been an explosion in the base, doctor. It seems that Major Carter and Doctor Jackson were caught in the blast. There's a medical team down there at the moment, they're still trying to free Doctor Jackson from the wreckage."

"It's bad, Janet." Carter looked sorrowfully at the physician, tears glistening as they welled in the puffy eyes.

The nurse administered a sedative to the disturbed Major.

"He saved me," she carried on, staring blankly. "I'm the soldier, I'm the one who should do the protecting," she sobbed, "but he saved me."

"You get some rest, Sam," Fraiser spoke to her softly as the drug started to take effect. "I'll see if I can find out what's going on."

***

O'Neill was frustrated that things were taking so long. They had had to give up with the cutting equipment as the unstable pile threatened to shift and allow more of the ceiling and the wall to collapse.

The medical team hadn't been able to do much for the linguist. They had cleaned his face and irrigated his eyes as best they could in the cramped conditions. Several stitches now held the skin together at the top of his forehead; the bandage covering the wound was already soaked through.

An oxygen mask had been placed over his mouth and nose. Until he was free there was little else they could do to alleviate the young man's worsening struggle to breathe. These things O'Neill could see, at the moment he didn't want to know what else the medics had been discussing as they worked on the injured man.

"J'ck," the voice muffled by the mask.

"Danny ?" O'Neill's head spun round, surprised at the feeble sound. He positioned himself better to hear.

Daniel was trying to lift his aching head, the effort it was costing him, agonizingly obvious.

O'Neill slipped a supporting hand under it, trying to ignore the slick feeling on his fingers. "Its okay, Daniel, we're here. Try to stay still." He looked into the unfocussed, pale blue eyes, grateful at least that it didn't look as if the glass had done too much damage.

"J'ck, somethin'.. hafta tell you," Daniel mumbled breathlessly, trying to get his mouth to co-operate with his brain. 'Great, twenty three languages up there somewhere… Got to get some words out from under all that cotton wool that seems to have been stuffed on top.'

"Save your strength, Daniel." The badly slurred speech chilled Jack to the core.

"No ! Ya hafta lis'n, pl'se." He was shaking with the effort of trying to get through to the older man.

"Okay, okay, calm down." O'Neill gently laid his other hand on Daniel's shoulder. 'Shouldn't let the kid get agitated like this.'

"Art'f'cts, linked." He swallowed, trying to clear the gritty feeling in his throat.

"And ?" Knowing Daniel as well as he did, there had to be an 'and'.

"If one goes off… " Daniel's voice seized as a spear of pain shot through his body. Shuddering, he continued, "All d-do, but 'd-delayed in action'."

Recognising the phrase from the earlier discussion, O'Neill realised that the linguist in Daniel had probably been deliberating on the situation unconsciously. If the detonations were delayed then that meant that more explosions could be about to happen. "Damn." O'Neill looked around, scanning the devastated lab in vain. They would never be able to find the tiny devices amongst the remains. "How long ?" When no answer came he reiterated the question insistently, "How long, Danny ?" He knew he was asking a Hell of a lot, but he needed to know if they were in immediate danger.

"Not sure."

O'Neill had seen the look on the scientist's face before, when deep in thought. The lightning fast mind running through the full gamut of his knowledge and beyond in the hope of finding an answer. If he could have moved his arm, O'Neill knew that Daniel's index finger would have been pressed against his lips right now, in that familiar gesture of contemplation.

"N'd to th'nk." Daniel whispered, his features relaxed as consciousness deserted him.

Gently, O'Neill laid Daniel's head down on to the makeshift pillow and stared worriedly at the blood-covered hand he retrieved. His face curled up in a grimace of sorrow both for his friend here, now and for a distant, still too fresh memory. 'Don't go there, O'Neill. No time for that.' After wiping his hand on his pants, he resumed his work; he'd worry about getting blown up if it happened.

He had only hefted a few lumps of concrete aside when his attention was drawn to the ruined doorway.

"Colonel O'Neill, I've just come on duty. How's it going ?" Doctor Fraiser maneuvered herself carefully to him.

"Slowly, Doc, too damn slowly !" he shouted at the latest piece of rubble as he tossed it aside. A skittering sound made him curse further. In his haste to get his friend free, he was getting careless.

The removal of that piece had allowed others to become loose and a hunk of concrete tumbled through twisted jumble of metalwork, landing on Daniel's legs.

Awakened with fresh pain, Daniel gasped as the intensity of it momentarily won over all the other discomforts.

"Aw crap ! Sorry, Danny, y'alright ?" O'Neill asked, bending to place a hand on the trapped man's head.

"Yeah," there was a hitch in Daniel's breath, which negated his reply.

O'Neill cursed himself for being so careless, turned away and renewed his labour more cautiously.

Fraiser got down on her knees, wincing as the sharp fragments on the floor dug into them. "Hey, Daniel."

"J'net ?" He cracked open his scrunched up eyes, willing the tremors that assaulted him to abate.

Fraiser took the opportunity to shine her penlight into Daniel's glassy irises, worriedly observing the delayed response. She tried not to let any emotion show across her features - her 'professional face', as she liked to think of it, hiding the fear. It was so hard when the people you had to care for; were ones you had come to care for, were friends.

Enough of the wreckage had been cleared for her to make a better assessment of the scientist's injuries than the medics had. She managed to slip her hand clutching the stethoscope under his T-shirt.

"S'm, 'kay ?"

"Yes, Sam's fine, she's sleeping in the infirmary." Fraiser ceased her auscultation to smile at the man, who always seemed to make time to consider other people's welfare, no matter what his own circumstances were.

O'Neill mentally kicked himself for not enquiring, but his thoughts were usually directed one way at a time and right now his priority was a heap of junk that was stopping his friend from getting the medical attention he so desperately needed.

Working around the remaining girders that pinned the young archaeologist to the floor; Fraiser probed and examined as best she could to assess the crushed body. When she had finished she caught O'Neill's eye and motioned to him that they should talk.

Stepping from the ruined lab, Fraiser let out a sigh before giving O'Neill a run down of what she had found. "He's got a very severe concussion, possibly a skull fracture. His breathing is being compromised by the weight of that girder across his side; it's not allowing his ribcage to expand properly and I can feel at least three broken ribs. The right shoulder and arm are both broken and the left femur. I haven't been able to get to his lower legs. There could be internal injuries that I can't detect with him down here." She didn't think it was necessary to remind O'Neill that they needed to get Daniel to the infirmary as quickly as they could.

During the explanation, O'Neill's gaze fell to his dusty boots. He didn't want to hear about any of the damage his friend may have experienced. All he wanted to know was how long they had to get him out and Janet couldn't tell him that. Only Daniel could.

"I'll be back shortly." Fraiser left to organise some ice, a new oxygen bottle and other medical supplies.

***

"J'ck, hafta get out," Daniel's voice was almost lost behind the mask.

"Ya think ?" 'Now is not the time for sarcasm,' he berated himself. "We're going as fast as we can."

He looked sadly at the shivering form. Fraiser had packed ice chips wrapped up in towels around Daniel's head, in the hope of reducing the swelling from the trauma.

"Leave me." 'I don't want you hurt because of me.'

"No way, Danny boy. Never again." 'Not a chance in Hell.'

"Please," a whispered, desperate plea.

"We're gonna get you out," came a firm rebuff from the older man.

"Not worth it."

"What ?" 'Where did that come from ?'

"Don't w'ste time," the words 'on me,' implied, but unspoken, "go."

"I'm not leaving." Jack began hauling pieces of metal and concrete off the stack again. Angry at a world that had it in for his young friend. The kid just never got a break. Any chance, any hope of happiness always cruelly snatched away. Glimpses, mere glimpses of what could be; that was all he seemed destined to have.

Teal'c had never stopped his careful excavation. He had been silent witness to the exchange between the two men. In his previous society, a Jaffa warrior would never have mixed with a scholar, save when jointly in the service of the Goa'uld, let alone call one 'friend'. He found the Tau'ri to be such a mixture of contradictions, but the loyalty they felt for each other was equal to none.

"Oh God," Daniel suddenly cried out.

"What is it ?" O'Neill halted his labour, worried that his increased fervor at getting the job done was hurting him again.

"Gen-Gen'ral… has…"

"Has what ?" Jack stooped down and tried again when there was no response. "Has what, Daniel ?"

"De-dev…" the stuttered reply was cut short as a wave of pain coursed through the battered body.

O'Neill grabbed for the nearest cold, clenched hand and held tight, wishing that he could ease his friend's suffering. When he felt the fingers start to relax, he pushed for an answer once more.

"A device ?"

A weak nod was all the reply he got, then O'Neill remembered Daniel having the artefact in his hand when he went to deliver the report. "What do we do with it ?"

"L'd… lead flask," the thought came to him, "stops tr'nsmission,"

"Teal'c ! Get to Hammond !"

The big man moved with startling grace over the rubble.

"S'm, Sam's got one 'n her lab."

"Airman, I need you to…" Jack began barking orders to the nearest recruit.

"No, Jack, you hafta go, door's locked."

"Okay," O'Neill figured that as long as no one could get into the room, they could live with a bit more repair work to do. "So, she loses a bit of work, knowing Carter it'll all be backed up in

triplicate."

"Naqadah there…" The ore would magnify the explosion. Trust Daniel to be thinking at least three steps ahead of him, even with a concussion.

No, this came to me when I was suffocating…

"Damn it !" O'Neill's fury sent a piece of pipe hurtling toward the far wall.

"I'll be 'kay, won' move… pr'm'se." Daniel's attempted smile went unseen under the mask.

"Danny." O'Neill completely failed to find the humor in Daniel's words.

"Go. H'rry." Daniel's eyes closed and his head dropped back to rest on the balled up jacket. His breath coming in short gasps.

"I'll be back, just hang on." O'Neill's long legs ran him to Carter's lab; pulling the keycard giving him clearance to enter from his pocket as he went.

If he had heard the next breathless whisper that rattled from his friend, "Mom, Dad, wait… don't go without me…" he never would have left.

***

Teal'c was confused. He had obtained a lead-lined flask from a startled laboratory assistant. Then he had almost flung the General's office door from its hinges in his haste to retrieve the device.

General Hammond was discussing preparations for repairs to the damaged facility and was more than surprised by the whirlwind entrance of the Jaffa. He had accepted the big man's apology.

However, Hammond did not know of any device in his possession. Doctor Jackson had not given him anything except a report on the progress of the translation of the artefacts and the possibilities of their function.

Teal'c met with O'Neill in Carter's lab, having caught the location of another device as he had taken flight to the General.

"Got it ?" O'Neill asked, regarding the flask in the Jaffa's hand as he continued lifting papers from the desk, to look underneath.

"I have not," the solemn voice replied.

"Well go get it !" O'Neill continued his search and his patience was running out with both it and Teal'c.

"General Hammond does not have a device. Daniel Jackson did not give one to him," he stated.

"What ?" A stack of books went flying as frustration got the better of him.

O'Neill grabbed the 'phone. "Is Major Carter awake ?" He listened. "Yes, it's important, God damn it !" he yelled. "Ask her if she has one of the devices in her lab." He calmed himself and waited while the nurse went to ask the question, drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk.

"Thanks." He slowly put the receiver back in its cradle, mulling over the evidence.

"Is there a device in this room, O'Neill ?"

"No."

"It is not like Daniel Jackson to be so deceptive." The usually stoic Jaffa showed a bemused expression.

The statement seeped through O'Neill's baffled brain. "Yes it is, if…" 'Oh God.' "The Sonofa Bitch !" Realising that Teal'c was not following his train of thought, he clarified as he started to run back down to the damaged lab. "It is… if it's to get us out of the way !"

The pair was barely a few steps into a frantic dash down the corridor, when the second explosion rang out.

***

A lamp swung free of its fittings and landed noisily on the rubble, glass splintering in all directions as O'Neill and Teal'c stumbled back into the lab.

The Jaffa immediately grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and directed it at the far corner of the room, where it seemed most of the new damage had occurred.

O'Neill waved his hands to clear the smoke from in front of his face. His relief that no further debris had yet fallen on his friend was tempered by the realisation that the lab's structure was now very close to collapse. Dust spilled ominously from the ceiling as he knelt by Daniel and felt his neck for a pulse. It seemed to take forever to locate the weak, erratic beat and in that time he felt his own heart thudding wildly with fear. "Good boy," he sighed, brushing grey powder from Daniel's face and hair.

"Come on, Teal'c, let's get this job done before any more of those things go off."

Working as quickly as they dared, O'Neill and Teal'c removed the remaining hunks of concrete, before tackling the girders resting across Daniel's body. Carefully they eased first the one from on top of his legs out of the wall. O'Neill never more grateful for Teal'c's immense strength than when they hauled the heavy piece of metal to one side.

As they lifted the final beam, Daniel groaned as the pressure on his chest altered.

O'Neill dropped, exhausted, beside the injured man, while Fraiser finished her preparations to transfer him to the infirmary. "Danny ?" he asked quietly. "You still with us ?" He gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze, but there was no response.

Fraiser laid her hand over O'Neill's. "We're ready to take Daniel up now, Sir."

It took a few seconds for him to register her presence. She felt for him. He looked done-in and no wonder, but there was a more urgent need here. "We have to get him into surgery right away."

He shuffled aside, totally drained, letting the medics lift the limp body onto the waiting gurney. He sighed deeply and scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the grime on his skin. 'What a day…'

"O'Neill," Teal'c's resonant voice cut through his thoughts, "we should vacate this area, it is not safe."

The pipe-work in the ceiling creaked threateningly, as if to justify his words.

"No kidding."

***

"I'll catch up." O'Neill clapped Teal'c on the back.

Teal'c proceeded to the locker room, O'Neill took a moment to watch him go. 'God, even he looks worn out…' Then made his way to the infirmary to check on the remainder of his team.

He stopped by the nurse's station to ask if there was any news from the OR. Dutifully, the nurse went off to find out what was happening, while O'Neill approached Carter's bed.

The sleeping officer was peaky. He looked at her, silently. His emotions were in a mess. Part of him was happy that she was safe and relatively unscathed. Another part despairing at what fate had dealt to Daniel again. Sinking into the chair by Carter's bed, he leant his head over into his hands.

The nurse returned. "Colonel O'Neill… Sir ?" He slowly looked up and she went on, "Doctor Fraiser said to tell you that Doctor Jackson's surgery is going well, but they will be some time yet. She suggested you get some rest, Sir."

"Thanks. I will." He didn't get up straight away. Stretching his long legs, he let the relief of the news wash over him. He regarded his scratched, dirty hands and became aware of his appearance, realising that he really, really needed a shower…

Finally lifting his tall frame from the seat, he noticed a stirring in the bed.

"C-Colonel ?" Carter's voice breaking as she clawed her way back to consciousness. Her throat was raw and she coughed against the thick residue of dust.

"How're you feeling, Carter ?"

She considered the question, "Okay, I think." As her mind cleared she felt there was something more important than her own health that she needed to know. "Daniel ?"

"Oh, Doc's still playing with him," O'Neill responded, mischievously.

Carter stared at him in confusion.

"In surgery," he explained. "He'll be okay."

"He pushed me out of the way." A far away look crept into her eyes.

"I'll have to thank him later then."

"It looked bad." She stifled a sob.

"Yeah, it was." He thought, ruefully, 'It got worse.'

"I should have stayed," she said, guilt ridden.

"There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have been there for him."

"He wouldn't have wanted you put at risk." 'And I wouldn't have either.' "Look I'm gonna hit the showers. Get some rest. I'll be back later."

***

When O'Neill returned to the infirmary an hour later, clean, fed and feeling somewhat revived, he found Teal'c relating events to Carter. There was a distinct lack of medical staff around and no other occupied bed. "Any word on Daniel ?"

Teal'c replied unhappily, "Doctor Fraiser has had to request assistance to deal with Daniel Jackson's head injury. It appears his condition is very grave."

"Damn."

Carter tried to distract O'Neill's thoughts, seeing how dispirited he looked at the latest news. "Teal'c has been telling me about the second explosion, Sir. What about the other devices ?"

"I can answer that," General Hammond offered as he neared Carter's bedside. "I've sent an explosives team down there to isolate any further hazards. I haven't had a report on their progress yet."

"Well at least there haven't been any more blasts." O'Neill said, thankfully.

"How are you, Major Carter ?" Hammond turned to her with a fatherly concern.

"I'm alright, Sir, thank you. I'll be a lot happier when we're sure that Daniel's going to be okay though."

"Yes, I think we all will, Major," he agreed. "I've just accompanied Doctor Andrews, the neurosurgeon from the Airforce Hospital, down here to assist Doctor Fraiser and Doctor Warner."

Observing the anxious expressions on the three faces before him, he hoped to allay some of their fears by adding, "He's one of the best in his field."

His words apparently did little to lift their mood and a silence settled over the group. Each making their own prayer for their injured team mate.

Carter drifted back to sleep. The earlier sedative still working through her system.

O'Neill sat uncomfortably in chair alongside her, taking the opportunity to close his eyes too.

Teal'c stood guard over them both.

***

Later that evening, a flurry of activity disturbed both dozing officers.

O'Neill blinked awake, watching as Fraiser and Warner entered with another man. 'Doctor Andrews, I presume.' They were followed by a gurney surrounded with medics, nurses and equipment and hopelessly lost in the middle of it all was Daniel.

Carter, O'Neill and Teal'c exchanged glances, staying out of the way, while their friend was transferred onto a bed on the opposite side of the room. The infirmary staff busied themselves with the monitors and all the other apparatus that was keeping him alive.

After talking briefly with her colleagues, Fraiser came over to SG-1. The other two doctors headed for her office.

"That was close," she said. Exhaustion washed out her features, her dry eyes blinking rapidly. "He should make a full recovery though. He's very lucky."

"Should ?" O'Neill was perturbed by the use of the vague word.

"Colonel, you know that there are no guarantees in my profession. There's always a risk…" She didn't think that she needed to go on with what might happen, so concentrated on what already had. "Daniel had a skull fracture from just above the right eye socket running back to his ear. We called in Doctor Andrews for some advice. He was pleased with how it went."

O'Neill moved across to Daniel's bed with Fraiser in tow. Now that he could get a good look at the archaeologist, he was shocked at the livid bruise covering almost all the right side of Daniel's face. His head was swathed in bandages that extended down over his right eye, while his chest and shoulder were also tightly dressed and fresh casts covered his broken limbs. Drainage and IV tubes, monitor wires and the respirator conspired to hide the young man amongst the vast array of medical machinery.

Noting O'Neill's wince at the sorry sight of his friend, Fraiser explained, "His lungs suffered more damage than I'd first thought and there were some other internal injuries, but we've patched him up pretty well. Like I said he…" She was cut off by O'Neill.

"Should make a full recovery, yeah, I know."

Fraiser passed in front of him to chart some of the readouts from the monitors. The frown that crossed her face caused his heart to thump so hard it seemed to hammer against his ribs.

"What ?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted an answer.

"He's in a coma, Colonel," she replied, dolefully.

"Gonna be another long night then." O'Neill concluded.

***

"Colonel ?"

A welcome smell wafted under his nose and he looked round to find Carter with two cups of steaming coffee. Taking one O'Neill muttered, "Thanks Carter." He wondered idly just how much he'd drunk in the last three days. It seemed that everyone who stopped by had plied him with a cup of something - coffee, tea, chocolate. 'Three days…come on Danny, my bladder can't take much more of this…'

"Any change ?" she had been working in her lab most of the day, putting together the information they had on the artefacts, having been released from the infirmary the previous evening.

"No." O'Neill's curt answer conveyed his current demeanor. The constant hum and quiet beeping noises from the machinery surrounding his comatose friend's bed, accompanied by the steady hiss-pause rhythm of the respirator were wearing him down. The sounds filled him with an odd mix of emotions - reassured that at the very least Daniel was still alive, yet annoyed that their presence meant there was little sign of true 'life' in the young man's body.

"Has Janet said anything ?"

"Not much." He did not feel like talking. Actually Fraiser had said plenty, none of which was easy to listen to and not just because of the medical terminology she liberally laced her sentences with. He was sure she did it just to annoy him.

"I'll sit with him for a while if you want a break."

"I'm fine, Carter." O'Neill's body protested against the remark. Everything ached. His muscles had quickly stiffened from sitting in one place for far too long after all the exertion they'd been put through.

"With all due respect, Sir, you don't sound fine." She pushed.

"I said I'm fine." he glared at the young woman. Then realised that perhaps he was being a bit hard on her. She was hurting too. "Sorry, I guess I am a little stressed," he admitted.

"He'll be okay, Sir." She wanted to believe that, had to believe that.

"Of course he will." He looked at the still form on the bed, wearily rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Why ?"

"Why what, Sir ?"

"Why did he do that ?"

"What ?"

"Make up all that stuff about Hammond…and your lab."

"You know why, Sir."

He looked at her as if he didn't know what she meant so she continued, "The same reason as pushing me out of the way of the explosion in the first place. He cares about us, Sir."

O'Neill nodded.

"Janet told me what he went through in those days after Thor's ship was destroyed and we couldn't get home."

"Yeah, Hammond had a similar conversation with me," he admitted.

"He'd do anything to save his 'family', a lot of people would." She mentally kicked herself for that one.

"You're right there, Carter," he agreed. There was more to this man than that though. They hadn't known each other more than a few days when Daniel had first saved him. A civilian scientist, no more than a geek in the eyes of a world weary, suicidal Air Force Colonel, had willingly sacrificed his life for that of a man who wanted to die anyway. In many ways, O'Neill wished that they had never encountered the Goa'uld, but that mission to Abydos had brought him out of the dark places that his soul resided in at that time. He probably would have drunk himself to death by now, or eaten that bullet he'd had ready for the job, had it not been for the wonderful spirit of the Abydonians, especially Skaara; and of course, said geek, Doctor Daniel Jackson.

"Come on, Daniel, you have to wake up. Carter still hasn't got this thing figured out yet. We need to know if the rest of those things are going to go off at any minute."

Carter winced at the criticism, but would have been the first to admit that she did need Daniel's input and she didn't care what O'Neill said, as long as it brought their friend back to them.

O'Neill nearly leapt from his seat when he felt the fingers twitch under his hand.

"Daniel ? Do you hear me ?" Did he imagine the movement ? "Do it again… that's an order Jackson."

The fingers on both hands moved this time and heavy eyelids began to rise.

"I'll get Janet." Sam rushed off.

Sensing the panic as Daniel became aware of the tube in his throat, O'Neill soothed, "Don't fight it Danny, you're on a respirator. Janet will be here in a minute. She'll soon have you sorted out."

Calming with O'Neill's reassuring voice, blue eyes locked with the brown ones that so often offered comfort and strength.

Fraiser arrived at the bedside, ushering O'Neill to stand back with Carter, while she examined Daniel. After checking him out, she spoke quietly to him, before deftly removing the breathing apparatus.

Immediately a fit of coughing stole Daniel's breath, but it eased quickly when he managed a few dry swallows.

"Hi," the parched throat rasped. "What happened ?"

***

"Fraiser will have your hide if she catches you with that." O'Neill strode toward the bed.

Daniel held the catalogue out for him to take. "I told you that box looked familiar," he announced.

O'Neill squinted at the open page, he vaguely recognised the artefact in the picture and then looked at the book's cover. "There's one of these things in the New York Museum of Art ?"

"Yep, must have seen it a hundred times or more… a long time ago." Daniel paused thoughtfully. "Did you notice the label ?"

O'Neill looked at the writing under the picture. "Box of marbles ?" he laughed. "At least I'm not the only one."

"Do you think we ought to confiscate it ?"

"Well I don't think we'd want some poor old museum curator getting a little curious and being blown to pieces for his trouble."

"Hasn't happened yet," Daniel countered.

"Lucky them," O'Neill said sarcastically. "We'll get onto it." He folded the catalogue and tucked it under his arm. "I've read Carter's report."

"And ?"

"Sounds feasible."

"It’s the only thing I can come up with." Daniel sat up a little getting into the flow. "The two devices that blew up were ones with matching symbol sequences, so it would be logical to assume that if one device is activated any others with the same 'serial number' would explode too." He stopped for breath. "I'm still not sure about how to calculate the time delay between detonations though. I think that the larger symbol has something to do with it, but it's difficult because we don't know what sort of measurement of time those people were using."

"Daniel." O'Neill put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You're supposed to be resting."

Fraiser had nagged him every day of the week since Daniel awoke that the archaeologist was not following her orders to take it easy. He guessed he really ought to be backing her up, but it was just so good to see Daniel being Daniel again that he hadn't had the heart to get tough with him, until now.

"I am," Daniel retorted defiantly.

"So, helping Carter with reports, looking through museum catalogues to find potentially hazardous artefacts and…" O'Neill lifted the sheet exposing the open journal and pen, "writing up your memoirs, is resting ?"

"Well restful," Daniel winced, realising he had been well and truly caught.

O'Neill closed the book and put it and the pen in the bedside drawer. "Get some sleep."

"Okay, mom."

O'Neill grinned. "Night, night."

***

The New York Museum of Art was quiet late that afternoon. The Air Force officer shifted restlessly in the large leather seat in the oak panelled office, uncomfortable with the very unusual assignment he had been given.

"I'm sorry, Sir, we don't seem to be able to locate that particular piece at the moment." The head curator returned, equally perturbed by the military uniform in front of him.

"What do you mean ?" The officer had orders to retrieve the artefact and he didn't like the idea of going back empty handed.

"It is no longer part of the display, but I have checked in the storage vaults and it is not where it should be."

"So your saying what ? It's missing, stolen ?"

"It may have just been put back in the wrong place, but it could take weeks to search all the vaults." The curator shuddered at the thought.

"Do it," the officer commanded.

***

Bert Samuels was feeling rather pleased with himself. As he marched through the maze of corridors in Area 51's research facility, he looked at the package in his hand and the smile widened on his face. He had finally gotten one up on those smug bastards at the SGC.

He reached the door he was looking for and swiped his access card through the reader. Once inside he made an entry into the room's item catalogue and then wrote 'For study' on a label along with the number from the catalogue.

Removing the small black lacquered box from its wrapping he attached the label to it and placed the artefact on one of the many shelves.

Satisfied with a job well done and the thought of Hammond's and O'Neill's faces when they realised they had been outwitted, the broad smirk crossed his features again. Samuels left work for the day in search of a celebratory drink.

***

Epilogue

It was O'Neill's turn to sit with the recuperating archaeologist. They had played chess, he guessed that Daniel must be feeling better, because he won in fewer moves than the day before. As he was packing away the pieces, he decided it was time to talk. "Daniel," his tone unusually serious. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What ?" Daniel shifted uncomfortably on the bed and started to chew on his bottom lip.

"When you wanted us to leave you," O'Neill swallowed, "down there, well, you were pretty out of it, but you said 'not worth it' so clearly and it's been bothering me as to what you meant."

"Oh," Daniel's head ducked characteristically. "Like you said, I was pretty out of it."

"Daniel ?" 'You're not getting away with that.'

"It's not important,"

"Oh I think it is, I think it's a lot more important than you want to admit." Jack leaned in closer.

"Were you telling me that you felt you weren't worth the effort of trying to get you out ?"

"No," Daniel's voice was flat. 'Yes.'

"Is it to do with the team ?" O'Neill pressed on. "Do you believe that you're not valued ?"

The look on Daniel's face was too much of a give-away, but he answered, "No, no, it's nothing like that, Jack."

"Don't try to dodge this, Daniel, you know you've never quite got the hang of ducking." 'There gotcha' he thought, as his wise-crack received a fleeting shy grin. "Seriously, if there's a problem I want to know about it."

"There's not a problem."

O'Neill stared at the younger man, concerned.

Daniel caved in, under the scrutiny. "Okay," he hesitated, wondering how best to tactfully phrase his words. "Sometimes I feel that you brush me off."

O'Neill nodded. "Maybe. You know how I am with all that scientific/culture/history stuff. Sometimes you're…well… sometimes you're a bit hard to take."

"Story of my life."

There was a little too much hurt in those words for O'Neill to ignore. "You are a valued member of my team, Daniel. You wouldn't be on it if I didn't want you on it."

"It's not that," Daniel jumped in exasperated. He could see just how this conversation was going to end. Him feeling guilty and Jack annoyed because he was grousing.

"So, was there something else ?"

"No, I told you, it's nothing."

"So, 'nothing' was at the forefront of your mind when you were dyin' down there." 'Don't believe that for a minute.'

"Okay." 'Had enough of this', he thought. 'If you want psych assessment let's have it !' Daniel's voice raised, "You really wanna know what I was thinking ? You know they say your life flashes before you, well I guess there was plenty of time to get through mine. I remember wondering if that was what it was like for my parents." His tone lowered, "Back when that happened, I wished I'd died with them because I didn't want to be left alone." Leaning his head to one side, his eyes shut briefly, considering how best to continue, or even if he should. He saw O'Neill still gazing at him intently. 'Okay that's novel.' He carried on, gravely, "From then on I was at the mercy of people who wouldn't listen to me. Nick didn't when I pleaded with him to take me with him. My social worker didn't want to hear when I told her that I wanted to stay with some families, or not with others."

O'Neill thought he saw a shiver ripple through him and made a mental note that there was probably a lot more to discuss about that simple statement, but for now he let the young man continue.

"To her it was just the way the system worked. My lecturers and academic peers wouldn't listen to my theories." Daniel stopped to give the man before him a hard stare. "You don't listen to me, Jack."

"I do, Daniel," a quiet denial to the accusation.

"Oh, yeah, like you really listened when we were on Euronda. A few seconds, wasn't it ? Until you told me to shut up !"

"I was wrong, I admitted that. I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, I know." Daniel huffed back. The sincerity of O'Neill's words combined with exhaustion from his outburst to quell some of the exasperation that had been on a slow burn for a long time.

"I don't know why you're so angry at me. I trust you. There have been plenty of times when I've listened to you, even when your reasoning has been a little…" 'Flaky,' O'Neill's mind finished the sentence, but his mouth expelled a less hurtful, "Off beat."

"I know." 'Damn him ! Why did Jack always manage to turn it around so that he was mad at himself for being angry ? I knew this would come out the way he wanted it to.' "I know that you listen when it's important… when everyone else has run out of ideas… when I might just have come up with the solution to a problem; but you don't listen… just for the sake of it." He paused to deliberate an analogy. "It's kinda like being the kid who no one has any time for, unless someone wants help with their homework."

O'Neill was dumbstruck. He had no idea of what had been brewing in his quiet, overly intelligent friend and looked at him now with a sad understanding.

"Well, I've been there, Jack, done that." Daniel slumped dejectedly back against the pillows, his energy spent.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I didn't realise it could hurt so much. I've never really had to think about being listened to. In my job everyone else has to listen to me - if they've got fewer stripes that is, Hell, they're paid to." Part of O'Neill knew that he should leave it there, but he had to get some payback for being the bad guy in all this. "They're also paid to obey the order they listen to, which by the way you are too, even if you are still a civilian."

Daniel leaned forward as his anger swelled again and he rounded on O'Neill. "I knew you'd bring this back on me. What do you want me to say, Jack ? I'm sorry for screwing up again ? That I'll promise to be good and not play with any suspicious objects ? That I'll do what you say, without question, even if I know you're wrong ?" he wavered, taking in a ragged breath. "I think it was a certain Colonel Jack O'Neill who once said that I was the conscience of SG-1, well, what's the point of having a conscience, Jack, if you never listen to it ?" The exertion was too much. One of the monitors screeched menacingly and brought Doctor Fraiser hurrying from her office.

"What's going on here, Colonel ?" she scanned the numbers flickering wildly at her. "Relax, Daniel, try to control it. Don't breathe too deeply." Listening through the stethoscope, she soothed, "That's better. I don't think you've undone any of my handiwork."

"Sorry, Janet," both men apologised in unison.

Fraiser smiled, but warned O'Neill, "He still needs plenty of rest. I'll give you two more minutes." Then she reprimanded Daniel. "If you don't calm down, I'll give you enough sedative to knock you out for a week." She bustled back to her office, but didn't shut the door.

The two men sat in silence until she was gone.

"You okay ?" O'Neill the first to break the quiet.

"Yeah."

"Look, a coupl'a years ago, maybe I would have wanted you to change; to obey orders unconditionally, but I know you couldn't do that and I know now that I wouldn't want you to. I do need hauling in occasionally and I trust you to do that and you're right I did say that you're the conscience of our team, but we all ignore our consciences sometimes, even you."

"I've always taken responsibility for my mistakes."

"Yes, you have and I'm proud of the way you have and that you've done whatever you had to in order to put things right."

The gleam in the younger man's eyes told him that there been precious few people in his life that had expressed their pride in him and it made Jack feel good to have said that. "Ya know, I also said something else at that memorial service, I said that you were a good man, Daniel Jackson; and I meant it when I said I was lucky to be able to call you a friend."

Daniel was stunned. "We still friends ?" he asked hesitatingly, wondering if he had blown it with all that he had let pour from his heart.

"Yes, Daniel, we are. Friends are supposed to be able to tell some home truths, no matter how hard they are to hear. I have heard what you've said. I have listened and I am truly sorry for failing to give you that bit of time you need now and then. Sara used to say the same thing about Charlie.

'He's not one of your good little soldiers Jack, he needs time to be himself and for you to be you, not his Colonel.' Guess I should'a listened to her more often too," O'Neill confessed, unhappily.

"I'm sorry too, Jack."

"For what ?"

"For not doing my job properly. I should have finished the translation before fiddling with that device. For getting Sam hurt. For all the damage."

"Yeah, that's comin' outta your wages by the way." Barely suppressed his smirk, O'Neill was rewarded with a rare glint of a smile. "Daniel, I don't want you to change, just be more careful."

Daniel tried to interrupt, but O'Neill knew that he was going to say that he always was, but he would mean careful with his damn rocks so he didn't give him the chance. "And I meant take care of yourself. I don't wanna lose you. You're a vital part of my team, of this whole facility; and you're important to me." After letting that sink in he added, "Got it ?"

"Okay."

"Soooo, we alright about this now ?"

"Yeah." Daniel settled back tiredly.

"Now, you listen to our good Doctor and get some sleep." He went to ruffle the hair that wasn't there and had to change the affectionate gesture to a simple hand laid on the archaeologist's uninjured shoulder. "We need you to get better soon, lot's of new places to go, and weird aliens to meet. It's just not the same without ya." He stood up, stretched the knots out of his back. "I'll be back tomorrow morning for your physio."

Daniel pulled a pout.

O'Neill saw the expression and thought it looked a bit like the one Charlie had made when he was told to do his homework. That idea was quickly replaced by the realisation that Daniel would never have been disgruntled at doing homework…playing baseball…maybe. "Hey, it's either me or that lovely new nurse. I heard her talking to Carter the other day, said something about you havin' a great butt…"

"Jaaack," Daniel whined, a flush of red suddenly appearing on the cheeks of a still too pale face.

O'Neill chuckled. "If you're good, I might even bring ya…" his voice dropped off but his lips still mouthed, "a cup of coffee." Wondering why Daniel's eyes had grown wide and the hand of his good arm was waving in front of his throat. Then he felt the presence of Dr Fraiser behind him. He rotated his head, saw her glare and decided it really was time to leave. After he passed her, by now engrossed in checking the numbers on the monitors and scribbling on her notes, he turned back. First he quickly motioned a "one" with a finger, then mimed drinking from a cup; lastly he raised a thumb.

Fraiser caught the slight nod and grin that Daniel flashed back at the retreating man. "Goodnight, Colonel O'Neill." She smiled inwardly, but gave him another 'Don't think I don't know what you're up to' glance.

"Goodnight, Doctor Fraiser, Daniel." The 'thumbs up' turned to a brief hand wave, which became a wagging finger toward the archaeologist's head. "Oh and hurry up and grow that hair back, it's kinda freaky."

"Is that an order, Jack ?" Daniel's hand gingerly reached up to the stubble barely long enough to hide the neat patterns of stitches, "Cos I think it's got a mind of it's own."

"Sounds just like someone else I know," O'Neill muttered, as he wandered through the double doors and out of the infirmary.

"Jack !" A sudden thought occurred to Daniel.

O'Neill's head popped round the doorway inquisitively.

"Can we go back to P2C959 ? We never did work out why those people left, or where they went."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation O'Neill replied, "We'll talk about it when you're fit." His head disappeared again.

"But, Jack !"

"Go to sleep, Daniel !" O'Neill called back, his voice getting fainter as he walked.

"That's good advice, Doctor Jackson." Fraiser gave her thoughts on the subject as she finished her notes.

"I suppose." Sulkily, Daniel lay back and wriggled to get comfortable, wincing as the stitches across his side pulled. Closing his eyes he found that he was more relaxed than he had been in a very long time.

Sleep gently tugged at his consciousness, until he found himself in a warm place, with sand as far as the eye could see. A dusty breeze played around him as he walked across the dunes, a slender bronzed hand in his own…

The End

© May 17, 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.

Many thanks to Jmas for her edit.