Alex Moreau and Nick Boyle put the finishing touches to their report for London due the next day. In his five short years as prefect of the newly restored San Francisco house, the duty Nick still hated most was delivering reports to the bureaucracy at the London house, even if only by video conference. "Why can't they just read the damn things; why do I have recite it like a monkey in a suit?" he griped again.

"Just be glad prefects aren't required to attend in person anymore thanks to this wonderful technology you love so much." Alex smiled serenely, "Besides, they need to take your measure as prefect, get a feel for how you're handling the job, your team, the work load…."

"Alex, you know I love you like a sister," Nick flashed her a devilish grin from behind a beard that had fully grown in.

She laughed, "Yeah, yeah" and helped him to organise the materials. "There, looks like you're all set for the morning call."

"Thanks, couldn't do it without you," he replied.

"I'm turning in for the night. Don't stay up too late. You want to look well-rested."

"Like I'm gonna sleep a wink."

At the door she turned briefly and smiled, "Try."

And the irony is, he was sleeping rather well when the alarms went off.

"I don't know how many more ways I can say this, General: I think this is a VERY BAD idea," Colonel Jack O'Neill said emphatically.

"I'm hesitant myself, Colonel," General Hammond replied.

"If she can pull it off, we could learn a lot more about their limits, sirs."

"Carter, you're not helping!"

"But I do agree with you, Colonel, it is a big risk."

"Thank you!"

"Jack, isn't it obvious by now that you're not going to beat these, these…things with technology?" Ville said. "The risk is all mine, General, I'm willing to take it."

"O'Neill is correct to advise caution. You cannot be certain of the outcome."

"That's why it's 'experimental', Teal'c."

"Dr. Fraiser, do you have anything to add?"

"I agree with Teal'c, sir, we just don't have enough data to predict the effect such a course of action would have on Ville."

"I see. Ville, you and Major Carter have presented a very interesting idea but I disagree that the risk is all yours. We've seen what the Goa'uld are capable of and we've seen some of what you're capable of. If you were to lose control of the Goa'uld, all of Earth would be at risk and I'm not prepared to do that."

"We could do it off world, sir. Invite the Tok'Ra to observe," Carter suggested.

"Oh, like they wouldn't eat this up!" O'Neill complained. He was not fond of the Tok'Ra; as allies he found them severely wanting.

Ville held her hand up for attention. "At the risk of sounding patronising, I can only remind you that my life has been dedicated to your race since you began walking on two legs, collectively speaking, and I would never put Earth at risk."

"Oh, it's not that we don't believe you, Ville, it's just that the Goa'uld are low down, snake-in-the-grass evil bastards – pardon my French, sir!" O'Neill exclaimed his clear frustration just in case someone in the room happened to be brain dead. Ville could see that as long as O'Neill was opposed, Hammond would not even consider her request seriously. After the briefing, she followed him down the hall. "Jack, can we talk?"

"Forget it, Ville, I'm not asking Hammond to change his mind. I agree with him one hundred percent."

"No, Jack, he agrees with you. We both know if you were to get behind this idea, he'd reconsider."

"Have I run down the all the really bad things the Goa'uld have done or tried to do since we reopened the Stargate? First, there was Ra who threatened to send a nuke laced with naquada back through the gate to blow up Earth. Then Apophis arrived in two honking huge ships to blow us up. Then there was the time Heru-ur used a kid as a bomb to try and blow us up - are you detecting a theme here?"

"Hathor didn't try to blow you up," Ville pointed out dryly.

"No, she just wanted to enslave us all!"

"Shifu successfully resisted the Goa'uld race memories he inherited from Apophis."

"Well…that was different."

"How?"

"He was, uhm, an alien."

"Jack, I'm an alien."

"I'm still not talking to Hammond for you."

"If Daniel were here…"

"Ah, ah, ah!" O'Neill turned heatedly, "Don't even try that on me!"

She went toe to toe with him. "Damn it, Jack, I have saved your life…"

"For which I thanked you!"

"You carried my mind around in your head for months…"

"You're welcome!"

"…and you still don't trust me? What more can I do to prove myself to you?"

O'Neill silently counted to ten then said calmly, "Nothing."

"Then why not let me try this?" Ville asked softly.

"Because it's too dangerous."

"Yes, it's dangerous, but only for me. I swear to you, Jack, even if everything should go wrong, I would have to destroy the Goa'uld inside me before I allowed any harm to come to this planet." Ville lowered her voice. "You were once willing to die yourself to protect Earth from whatever was on the other side of that gate. I am just as equally dedicated."

"Yeah, well, one small difference: I was trying to commit suicide."

"Jack, this is what I live for, what my father taught me – to help humanity fulfill its destiny. If I could take a symbiote, find a way to control it, influence it...think what a leap that would be for your race. The next evolutionary step!"

"Maybe we don't want to take that step!"

"You don't, but what about Jacob Carter? Or other terminally ill humans like him? Living decades longer has enabled humans to accumulate more knowledge than ever before in history. Extending the human lifespan by centuries could bring a similar measure, and if the wisdom and enlightenment that come with it are immediate and instantaneous..."

"Only by having snakes in our heads and becoming schizophrenics – sounds like a recipe for world peace to me!"

"One step at a time. Let's find out if it's even possible first, " Ville pressed. "I want to do this. I have a very strong feeling that if I do this, my work here will be done and I can move on to start searching for my son again."

"That's why you want to do this? So you can move on? Gee, I thought you liked us; guess I was wrong." He stormed off around the corner out of sight.

"You care?" Ville realised and went after him.

By the tone of the alarm, Nick knew he didn't have a mere perimeter breach on his hands – someone was inside the house. No one could breach the inner sanctum without tripping the perimeter first. No one human that is. Alex emerged from her room as he marched past. "What's going on?"

He ordered, "Have security fall back to the inner perimeter. Nothing leaves this house without an all-clear signal. Anyone or anything tries to leave the island, they're to shoot first and ask questions later. I'm going to the armory."

"Sam has an idea and I believe it will work," Ville stated rather calmly. She stood next to Major Carter in Hammond's office. The General sighed, and then nodded. "Go ahead, Major."

"Sir, we could implant a remote control tracking device in Ville's physical brain prior to implanting the symbiote. In the event the Goa'uld's will proved stronger than hers, we could track her anywhere off world I believe," Sam hesitated.

"And it could be armed with an explosive that I would immediately attach to the symbiote upon implantation to allow you or whomever you designate to disintegrate our corporeal form at the touch of a button before the Goa'uld knew what hit it," Ville completed the proposal matter-of-factly.

Carter winced. Hammond was stunned, "What of you then?"

Ville answered, "As Major Carter knows, physics dictates that energy cannot be destroyed; I'm immortal."

O'Neill interjected knowingly, "But what kind of shape would you be in after the blast?"

Ville answered, "I would be reduced to my energy form. Back in my 'birthday suit' so to speak."

O'Neill pressed his unfair advantage, "And how long before you could 'pop' back into existence?"

Ville addressed Hammond directly. "It might take a few centuries, but as the Colonel knows, how you perceive time does not affect my continued existence."

Hammond was appalled, "I can't ask you to do something like that."

"You're not asking, sir, I'm volunteering."

"You honestly think this…this experiment is so vital that I should risk an asset as valuable as yourself?"

"General, I'm flattered, but yes, it's that important. In the millennia that I've lived amoung your kind, I have never seen a greater threat to humans. I can't leave here until I know that you've found a way to defend yourselves against it. I now truly believe this is why I materialised in your Gate Room. And if you don't utilise every advantage I can offer you to learn your enemy's weaknesses, you are not fully exercising the oath you took to defend your country, let alone your civilisation."

Flabbergasted, Hammond looked at each of his officers. "Colonel, I can't think of a further argument against that."

O'Neill admitted, "Neither can I, sir."

Hammond stared at his desk a few moments before rendering his decision. "Major, contact the Tok'Ra and ask them if they can secure a symbiote."

Although most of the enemies the Legacy normally faced would not be affected, Nick armed himself with a handgun anyway. He always felt more in control with a sidearm; besides guns are really useful for more than just killing things - if you know what you're doing. Basic rule of engagement – know where the enemy's forces are. Leaving the house dark, he chose to reconnoiter bare foot keeping his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce in any direction. He knew every corridor, board, stone and tile in the house having overseen its rise from the ashes after Derek Rayne had literally blown it to pieces. Nothing and no one was going to get the jump on him as he moved silently and invisibly as many of the ghosts and apparitions he'd faced in his career here. He headed toward the stairs to head down but the absence of an electrical charge in the air stopped him. His senses focused on what was missing; the holographic force field disguising the entrance to the control room was off. The power in the house was still on; there was no reason for the field to be down. He crept toward the control room so as not to alert whoever or whatever was inside. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He listened intently: computer on, drives being accessed, the hum of the monitor, no breath, no movement. 'Here goes nothing.'

He swept into the room tracking from right to left before returning his aim to the center of the room. Solid figure. Human-looking. Up on the wall monitor, he could see the Legacy database being accessed. He noted the massive amounts of information streaming across the screen, much too quickly for a normal person to absorb. He crept forward in a flanking motion, holding his breath and crouching slightly to keep his reflection off the monitor. She turned. He almost lowered the gun until the he saw her eyes beginning to glow as if from within.

"What the hell happened to you?" he gasped.

The Stargate operated within normal parameters and Jacob Carter (general USAF retired) stepped through with two companions. He greeted his daughter Sam and exchanged pleasantries with Hammond and O'Neill. Selmac, Jacob Carter's symbiote, allowed that the Tok'Ra were very interested in the proposed experiment, but, in the interest of protecting the Tok'Ra's new home base, suggested an uninhabited planet where it could be carried out. "A team of Tok'Ra operatives will meet us there with a captured Goa'uld symbiote."

"Peachy," O'Neill replied dourly. "When do we leave?"

JTS-629 was a world of jungle forests and plenty of wildlife, but no intelligent life forms and no signs of past or present civilisation. "So why haven't the Goa'uld been here?" O'Neill wondered out loud.

Major Carter answered, "Our preliminary scans showed no deposits of minerals they would be interested in and there's no technology for them to steal. Plus we got these co-ordinates from the Ancients' repository instead of the Abydos directory, so the Goa'uld may not even know this world exists."

Jacob agreed, "Our scans didn't show anything of strategic interest either. We were considering it for a base of operations but—."

"What changed the high council's mind?" Teal'c inquired.

Suddenly O'Neill slapped the back of his neck, "Ow!"

"Yep, mosquitoes," Jacob confirmed.

Ville made a swirling motion with her hand. The insects left the vicinity of the team. "How's that?"

"Better. Thanks," O'Neill said. The two of them walked side by side. "Still got time to change your mind, you know."

"Oh ye of little faith," she sighed.

"Is that something your dad used to say?"

Ville looked askance at him. "Big difference: he was trying to commit suicide." O'Neill winced as she went on, "Listen, I know you like to plan for contingencies including the worst case scenario but you're really starting to bring me down here. I wouldn't even be thinking about doing this if I wasn't damn sure I could pull it off. I know what I'm doing, Jack."

"It's called being prepared, Ville. I just don't like losing my team members..."

"I remember," she tried to interrupt.

"…because I really hate breaking in new recruits, okay? That's all," he insisted, "and then there's the paper work. It's a big pain in the ass."

By the time the rest of reconnaissance team finished reporting in with O'Neill, Dr. Fraiser had her field hospital set up. The team guarding the gate reported that the Tok'Ra had arrived with the captured symbiote. Fraiser's experience with symbiotes was not as broad as she would have liked, mostly limited to her experience with Teal'c's juvenile – dubbed "Junior" by O'Neill – plus tissue samples from the husk of a Goa'uld removed from Major Kowalski and the protein marker left post-mortem by the Tok'Ra named Jolinar that had once taken Major Carter as host. Of Ville, the doctor had even less data - from a brief coma following the death of Daniel Jackson that Ville would only describe as a healing trance. Since her mission brief, Fraiser'd been monitoring Ville for two hour periods daily trying to get a baseline. The results looked suspiciously human. "Can you explain this to me?" Fraiser had asked in frustration.

"I'm giving you what you expect to see from a healthy human female in her mid-twenties. If I stop giving you normal readings, you'll know something's up."

"But I won't know why. If you can manipulate your biofeedback at will, the symbiote might be able to learn to do it as well. You could be in trouble and we'd never even know it."

"From Teal'c and Junior, you know that the symbiote replaces the immune system. Any successful parasite must seek to preserve its host as a matter of survival, right? If something goes wrong, the symbiote will want to act to preserve the host and from that activity you'll get data indicating a problem. I should be able to get you some good data on the symbiote's abilities," Ville reassured her.

"I'm really uncomfortable with this."

"I know – 'First, do no harm'. You're a medical doctor but you're also a scientist. I am not a patient, Janet, and it's not like I'm asking you to do the implantation."

"Thank you for that small favor. Fine," Fraiser gave up, affixing the bio-monitor below Ville's clavicle. Two Tok'Ra entered the tent carrying between them a translucent case filled with a liquid nutrient. The symbiote appeared to be a mature adult. Fraiser wondered, "Do we dare ask how they got it?"

"Nope," O'Neill said, "Don't know, don't care. Ready?"

"Are you?" Ville asked.

O'Neill ordered non-essentials out and nodded to his team. He and Carter held zat guns capable of paralyzing most life forms without permanent harm. Carter also held the remote detonator. Teal'c readied his staff weapon. Jacob Carter also remained.

The symbiote floated peacefully in the tank then began to move around as Ville approached. It undulated slowly, languidly. She raised her hands to either side of the tank, almost in a caress. Her eyes closed as the symbiote disappeared allowing the liquid in the tank to subside. O'Neill was grateful they hadn't had to do it the old fashioned way until Ville reported, "It's wrapping itself around the brain stem." The humans shared a faintly ill look. "Interesting," she breathed. After a longer pause, she told them, "It learns fast, examining the tissue, test firing neurons – which I'm blocking. It's aggressive, frustrated. It may already realise this is brain is a construct. Now it's waiting; it doesn't know what to do next. I'm going to give it some access." She stepped back. Everyone tensed as she opened her eyes. They were glowing. When she spoke, her voice took on a booming quality: "Who is in charge here?" she demanded.

Ville showed no sign of recognition. "I said, what the hell happened to you?" Nick repeated holding the gun on her.

Her voice sounded odd, as if another voice was blended with hers. "I am sorry if I startled you," she paused, staring at him before adding, "Nick. I need…information." She turned her attention back to the monitor.

"What's so important that it couldn't have waited?" Nick lowered the gun and smirked, "You just show up in the middle of the night to break into our database? Must be something pretty serious."

"I did not wish to disturb anyone at this late hour."

"Uh-huh. So…what're you searching for?"

She closed her eyes and turned to face him. When she looked up, they were no longer glowing. "I cannot explain to you."

"Oh-kay, so what's with the eyes and the voice?"

"Ville." Alex had entered the room. "Well, this is a surprise!" she smiled, "At least we know why the outer perimeter alarm wasn't tripped," she said to Nick.

"Yeah, Ville here just dropped by to look something up. No big deal."

"Is it something I can help you with?" Alex volunteered before Nick could warn her off. She moved to the desk with the keyboard and waited for Ville's response.

Ville turned around and studied Alex. "I…should have waited until morning. I apologise."

Alex looked to Nick. He held the gun at his side, pointed at the floor. She realised something wasn't quite right. "Well, Derek's room is still empty. I can have it readied for you."

Ville seemed to make a deliberate attempt at warmth in response, "That would be most welcome. Alex."

"I demand that you bring me a suitable host at once!"

"Sorry," O'Neill said. "This is the best we got."

"You will pay for this insult! Fascinating – the arrogance of these parasites," Ville finished, laughing in her own voice.

Selmac addressed the Goa'uld. "You are the prisoner of the Tok'Ra and the Tah'Re. You will not be harmed. If you cooperate, you may be returned to the world you from which you were taken."

Ville's eyes flashed again. "The Tah'Re are mere slaves and the Tok'Ra are insignificant! You will all pay for this insult!"

O'Neill asked, "Doc, how's she doin'?"

"Other than a slight elevation of adrenaline during the… assimilation, all her readings are the same."

Ville said to Major Carter and Teal'c, "It's amazing – the Goa'uld uses the organic brain of the host to, to…amplify it own thoughts. It can access the race memory immediately! It learns incredibly fast."

"That would make sense from an evolutionary standpoint, wouldn't it?" Major Carter asked.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "The primitive Goa'uld we observed on the home world were extremely aggressive."

"Yes, that's how they were finally able to take the Unis' as hosts," Ville confirmed. "Once the two species were joined, they took an incredible evolutionary leap forward. Survival of the fittest left only the strongest, most intelligent and agile ones standing. Of those, the most brilliant discovered how to operate the Stargate and the genii was let out of the bottle."

"I don't like this, Alex. She just shows up like this, as if she's forgotten we have security. You noticed her voice, right? Well, you before you came in, her eyes were glowing. And she had to think before she remembered our names."

"So what are you saying – this isn't Ville? That someone or something pulled her image out your head, but just couldn't quite get it right?"

"I don't know."

"Have you, you know, felt anything?"

"You're the psychic, not me."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one she bonded with, Nick."

Nick rolled his eyes, but admitted, "No. I haven't heard or felt anything from her. Can you figure out what she was looking at?"

"I can see what files were accessed."

"I know it's late but you could you start now? I don't like surprises."

"Sure."

"Meanwhile, I'll go see if she'll talk to me."

"I will not tell you anything you wish to know. Fine, but by now you realise that you are not in an ordinary biological host. You have no control here. The only way you're getting out is if you cooperate."

O'Neill found it very disconcerting watching Ville talk to herself but it was the only way he and the others could know what was passing between "host" and symbiote. Selmac had wanted to talk to the Goa'uld without the humans around, but O'Neill denied that request. As usual, the Tok'Ra had their own agenda and they weren't sharing. "Fine, that's the way you want it? Ville, put it back," he had ordered.

"Jack, I can't do that," she said.

"Why not?"

Fraiser answered, "We know a symbiote can't survive frequent re-implantation."

Ville added, "And this thing is putting up a terrific fight, Jack. If I were human, right now I'd be unconscious. If I have to subdue it a second time, I'd probably end up killing it."

"Well, it's obviously not going to talk—."

"Well, we need to give it time."

"How much time?"

"As long as it takes."

O'Neill rolled his eyes and sighed. "Carter, contact Hammond and advise him of the situation. Looks like we're camping out tonight, kids."

Nick stood outside her door without knocking. He wanted to try his own experiment. Eyes closed, he breathed in, focusing on her, seeking out her familiar thoughts.

Suddenly the door opened and she stood there, eyes aglow. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

Nick folded his arms and asked, "Can I come in?"

Ville dismissively turned away leaving the door open. He walked in and closed it behind him. She stood before the window facing the bay and lights of San Francisco.

"Do you mind telling me what's goin' on?" He felt the power coming off of her but it wasn't anything like her at all. It was weird, alien. "You know - if you're in trouble and need our help, you're goin' about it the wrong way."

She turned and stared unblinkingly. "I was unaware I needed to explain myself to you."

"Okay, right there. What is that?"

"Do not attempt to touch my thoughts again," she warned him.

"Damn it, Ville, talk to me," he insisted.

She stared coldly as he approached and waited, then clasped her hands behind her back and paced. "The… Legacy is pledged to defend your race against dangers from within."

Nick noted the hesitation. "The Dark side, yeah. That's what we do."

"But there are dangers from without, of which the Legacy knows nothing."

Nick could not resist sarcasm, "You mean like…Romulans and Klingons or bug-eyed monsters?" he mocked.

The cold glow behind her eyes flared. "I am a Guardian to the Human race. I seek to protect this world from the wrath of those who would see it ground to dust and the humans enslaved and groveling at their feet," she growled.

"You're also Guardian of this House," he reminded her. She reacted visibly, as if stung, then recovered haughtily, "I honor my oaths."

He came even closer and breathed, "I know you do."

Shift change. As O'Neill entered the tent, Teal'c rose to meet him.

"How's it goin', Teal'c?"

"They have not spoken in some time but I believe they are engaged in battle."

"Battle?" O'Neill looked over at Ville. She seemed to be staring blindly at nothing, but occasionally her head moved or her facial expression flickered. "Who do you think is winning?"

"It is difficult to tell, but Ville appears to retain control. I believe she is a very strong adversary for the Goa'uld."

"Good." O'Neill glanced around. "Well. Consider yourself relieved then, Teal'c."

"I will see you in the morning, O'Neill."

"Goodnight." As a matter of form, O'Neill checked around the interior of the tent, keeping Ville in his sight at all times, before settling down on a camp stool with his weapon across his lap. "So."

"Boxing."

"Hmm?"

Ville repeated, "More like boxing than battle."

"Ah. Who's winning?"

"Even match so far. I win a round, Goa'uld tells me something I want to know; it wins a round, I tell it something."

"Like…?"

Ville smiled, "Nothing classified, Colonel."

"Ah. Well, that's good," O'Neill said doubtfully. "So—what're you two talking about in there?"

Ville finally shifted her eyes to focus on him. "Psychological warfare. You know, when they take their first host, they haven't been exposed to the effects of a sarcophagus which makes their elders so maniacal and eventually insane, yet they inherit the delusions of paranoia and grandeur of those elders through the race memory."

"And I thought my old man was bad."

"Exactly," Ville smiled as her eyes lost their focus again.

"Oh-kay…maybe that's an excuse to be a little cranky, but…Ville?" He sounded concerned.

She sighed and bent over to put her head on her knees for a moment. Then she moved over to the cot and sat down, legs crossed beneath her. "It's sulking again," she explained. "Doesn't like sharing me with you." O'Neill shrugged, "Well, there's no accounting for taste."

"That's okay, I could use a break anyway."

Now O'Neill leaned forward, casually concerned. "How're you holding up?"

Ville nodded, "Good. Slow and steady pace."

"You look a little tired," he said.

"The rhetoric and propaganda – it gets old," she smiled weakly.

O'Neill nodded in turn. "So what are you telling it? About us? Humans, I mean. Of course."

"Cultural, metaphysical things. Human drive, Individuality, the power of Emotion. Things they lack: creativity, innovation. Hope."

"Not any strategic tidbits, I hope."

"Jack, it's one individual. Very few Goa'uld rise to the level of a System Lord or other hierarchy position. Besides, it's totally convinced I'm lying about the possibility of humans being superior in any way or that a Goa'uld-human blend could ever be a relationship of equals. Apparently the Tok'Ra way is blasphemy."

"I would've used a different word. Still starts with a 'b' though," O'Neill allowed. "So what's it told you?"

"Oh, it excels at trumpeting its own advantages. I've got some physiology for Fraiser, a little bit of history…too bad Jonas didn't join us."

"Ville, you obviously came here for a reason. You said you wanted information."

"Those of the Legacy have witnessed many things. Beings of energy, powerful things born of human spirit. We have spoken of these things and of human potential."

"Yeah, the future of human evolution, I remember. I remember a lot of the things you taught me," Nick added as she swayed slightly on her feet. The glow behind her eyes dimmed momentarily. "Try not to take this the wrong way, okay, but, uh, are you a little, you know… possessed?"

Her eyes flashed strongly. "I would not call it possession, my son. An experiment." Her smile was warm and chilling all at once. She walked toward the bed as if to sit, but did not. "Blending human with another intelligent species."

Nick took a chair from the dresser and set it behind her. "I see," he said, willing her to sit. "I don't think you're gonna get a lot of takers on that deal." She glared. He held up his hands to indicate all he wanted for her was to sit and take it easy.

Regally she sat. "Physically, the species is vulnerable but quick. It is very intelligent and is born with the memories of all that came before it. It requires a host to reach its potential - to manipulate tools and technology - and it communicates directly with the host to accomplish this."

"That's why you won't let me in," he concluded.

"Yes. I…did not wish to alarm you."

Nick didn't buy that completely; essentially Ville had just warned him that she could not communicate openly with him.

"Where did you get your hands on this thing?"

"That's…classified."

Great, Nick thought, that makes this government or, god forbid, military. As a former Navy SEAL, Nick's feelings about the U.S. military were mixed at best. "So how we do get rid of it?"

"I do not wish to be rid of it," her eyes closed for several moments. When she opened them, she appeared and sounded tired. "I need…a safe place," she sounded like herself.

"Okay. Of course you can stay here. Get some rest. We'll talk with Alex tomorrow. I could get Rachel out here to give you a check up if you think that'll help?"

"She won't be able to tell you anything."

"I don't know about that," he said meaningfully. "You need anything else right now?" After he tucked her into bed, he took her hand briefly and said quietly, "It's good to see you again."

She squeezed his hand in response. "Thank you, Nick."

"What do you think, sir?"

"I think she's planning something."

"Please explain," Teal'c requested.

Carter answered, "Dr Fraiser's biofeedback data shows that during the Colonel's watch, her vital signs all dip. I just think it's odd."

"That is why you requested we all exchange duty shifts."

"Right, I was trying to eliminate Colonel O'Neill as a factor."

"Maybe Juniorette doesn't like me but I still think they're planning something."

"To escape," Teal'c concurred. "And go where?"

"To Earth," Carter guessed, "but we have the device if worse comes to worse."

"Perhaps the Goa'uld wishes to escape from this world to seek an alliance with a System Lord," Teal'c countered.

O'Neill sighed, "An option we can't afford. God knows what they could do to Ville with the proper technology."

"Sir, I don't think any kind of technology could coerce Ville into betraying us. If you really think she's planning something, it must be to get back to Earth. The question is why?"

"Alright, I'm going to order her to give up the Goa'uld. For now."

"And if she refuses that option?" Teal'c asked.

"Well, then we got ourselves a stand-off."

"She touched an enormous amount of data; the general themes seem to be psychic and supernatural powers – telekinesis, telepathy, controlling spirits, utilising objects of power, etc. Anything to do with exercising or imposing will. I can't fathom what her purpose might have been since she can already do all these things herself. She also accessed every file she contributed to the Legacy Archives the first time you and I met her."

"She told me it's an experiment : the joining of a human with an alien species that relies on thought and a host to accomplish its will. She's the guinea pig."

"Nick, that doesn't make any sense…from a human standpoint, let alone hers. Unless…do you think she's trying to teach the alien how to interact with a human, maybe training it somehow?"

"Wouldn't that run counter to her moral agenda though? It sounds damned suspicious to me. I'm not entirely sure she's in control of that thing, whatever it is."

"Do you think that's why she came here?"

"I think she came here for damage control."

"Yeah, doc, what's up?" O'Neill breezed into the infirmary.

"See for yourself, sir."

He tapped the container couple of times. "Juniorette asleep?"

"The Goa'uld is dead, sir," Dr. Fraiser pronounced.

He peered closer. "Oh. Didn't make it, huh? Too bad," he turned to Fraiser and added, "Not."

"Sir, I don't know why it's dead. Its readings were perfectly normal once Ville returned it to the container and now suddenly it's dead."

That gave O'Neill serious pause. He and Fraiser both remembered how the Goa'uld that had taken Major Kowalski as a host had deceived them into thinking it was dead. "You told Ville yet?"

"No."

"Better come with me. And bring LOTS of sedative. Just in case."

Ville, however, was not in her quarters. The SF normally stationed at the end of the hallway reported she had entered, but not left again. Since she can translocate herself to anywhere in the galaxy, she was probably long gone. O'Neill stepped to the nearest phone and ordered a lock-down of the mountain just in case. Then he dialed Hammond's extension. "Sir, we've got a Goa'uld on the loose."

As the boat approached the island under cover of darkness and patchy fog, O'Neill scanned the shore with the binoculars. "I see a few lights. Nothing else. You sure we're going the right way?"

Carter studied her scanner again. "Yes. GPS coordinates were for Angel Island, San Francisco bay. Survey map database has it designated as a state park. What is she doing out here, sir?"

"Don't know but it sure seems secluded." The ferry had stopped running for the evening, but a substantial cash bribe had located a boatman willing to take them out after dark. O'Neill asked the man transporting them, "What'd you say was out here again?"

"Mostly just park land. And the Luna Foundation. Sometimes they have charity dinners out at that castle there. Decent folks, big tippers."

"Being so close to the city, it's not the most remote place she could've gone to ground," Carter added privately.

"Air support's not far away though," O'Neill reminded her.

After the boatman left them off at the dock, the colonel signaled silent mode as they stalked into the woods and headed for the most obvious hiding place – the castle. They weren't expecting to run into a civilian security patrol on high alert.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, please." The guard saw their guns and shouted, "Drop your weapons!" while his partner radioed the command shack reporting the two intruders. O'Neill and Carter did as they were asked. "Down on the ground!" The partner retrieved their guns and covered them while the other guard searched them for concealed's. Finding nothing, he stepped back and allowed them to get up. "You are trespassing on private property. I'm going to have to ask you to return to your craft and leave the island immediately."

Carter protested, "This is a state park, how can we be trespassing?"

"Ma'am, I'm not going to ask you again."

O'Neill admitted, "Well, that's gonna be kinda tough since we sent the boat away. Look, this is just a misunderstanding. We came out here on a dare…."

"Will you come with me please?" The partner had been on the radio, reporting and receiving instructions. They were taken to the command post. The head of security introduced himself as a man named Henderson and asked to see their identification. O'Neill was happy to oblige. "Air Force? What's the Air Force doing out here, sir?"

"Oh, just having a little look-see. You don't mind, do ya?"

"Begging your pardon, uh, Colonel, Major, but you two don't look dressed for manoeuvres."

O'Neill and Carter looked at one another. Carter stammered out, "Well, you see it's like this, I kinda, uh, lost a bet." She shifted about trying to look as cute-but-uncomfortable as possible. O'Neill gave her a 'what the hell, go for it' look, so she added sheepishly, "It was a sucker bet."

Henderson instructed one of his men to call the house and report to the boss, then explained to them, "As you've been told, this is private property – it's held in trust for the state of California by the Luna Foundation. The public is free to visit the grounds during regular park hours. And believe me, there's nothing to interest the military out here. If you'll wait here, we'll get a boat to take you back to the mainland."

O'Neill asked astutely, "Then why the high security alert?"

Henderson paused before deciding to answer, "We had a report earlier of an intruder. Perhaps that was you?"

"Nooo, I don't think that was us – we just got here. Scout's honor," O'Neill swore.

"I see," Henderson responded. Someone handed him a phone. "Excuse me," he asked. A few minutes later, he returned to them. "Colonel, I've been asked by my employer to extend the hospitality of the main house to you and the Major while we arrange your transportation. If you'll follow my men, they'll take you up."

A butler met them at the front door and escorted them into the drawing room. They turned down the offer of food and drink. As soon as he departed, Carter sneaked a peak at her scanner. "They practically brought us right to her, sir, she's close. Somewhere in this house probably."

"Swanky. Kinda weird hours for everyone to be up and ready to entertain unexpected guests," O'Neill replied.

"Weird hours to be on duty for the Air Force," Nick said as he entered the room. "And I used think mornings in the SEALS were hell." He grinned and extended his hand. "Nick Boyle, chairman of the Luna Foundation. Sit down and take a load off. Our boys are working to get you a boat that'll float to take you back to the mainland, but in the meantime we couldn't let you stand around in the freezing fog. Wouldn't be very neighbourly."

"Well, thanks. Neighbour," O'Neill answered. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, this is Major Samantha Carter."

"A pleasure. So, what exactly are you doing out in the middle of the bay in the middle of the night?" Nick asked affably. "If I may ask," he added knowingly.

"Actually, it's nothing to concern yourself with. We're tracking down a team member who's currently AWOL."

"Really," Nick played along. "What makes you think your man would be out here?"

"She, actually," Carter corrected.

Nick flashed her a brilliant smile, "Sorry, bad habit."

Getting the nod from O'Neill, Carter brought out the scanner. "She's wearing a tracking device; we triangulated her position." She showed him the scanner's display. Nick gave it a cursory glance. They were being direct; he appreciated that and decided to skip a few turns. "So your 'team member' wouldn't happen to go by the name of Ville, would she?"

Surprised, Carter deferred to O'Neill. "As a matter of fact, that would be her," he confirmed.

Carter asked, "Is she alright? It's very important that we see her; she's not herself."

Nick held up his hand, "I noticed, Major. But she's retired for the evening. Ville happens to be a colleague of ours and we protect our own, so unless you can show me how sleeping beauty upstairs is an immediate threat to national security," he paused for fairness' sake, "…I'll ask you to accept a boat ride home or a couple of rooms for the night." He stood and grinned devilishly again, "I'm sure you'll have to contact your superiors; let me assure you, our phone lines are encrypted with state-of-the-art software that isn't even available to the government yet. If you're staying, Frederick will show you the guest quarters. Either way, we'll see you again in the morning." With that, he exited, gave Frederick instructions and headed back to the computer room.

O'Neill stared after him. "On one hand, I want to punch him in the mouth, but on the other, I kinda like the guy."

Carter grinned, "Remind you of someone, sir?"

"What?"

Nick says to Alex, "Okay, this just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

Alex answered, "I heard. I can't imagine Ville volunteering for the military. No offense."

"None taken. I know exactly what you mean – none of this tracks, but if I don't get four hours sleep, I won't be tracking either."

"Not to mention revising your report for London."

Nick rubbed his face, "Oh great."

What had begun as a boxing match had evolved into a fencing duel. Thrust and parry. Feint and lunge. Lightning quick repartee. Slow seductive engagement and withdrawal. Like the slow dance of a drug. For now the Goa'uld slumbered. Ville lay in a light meditative state, recharging.

Ville. Is that really you?

Derek. Yes, I'm here.

It is so good to meet you again. We've missed you.

I, too. I…I am sorry I was not here for you.

Ah, but you were. Everyone was here for me.

You made a great sacrifice.

It had to be and I think you will agree, my chosen destiny.

A great terrible destiny, yes.

Ville, I'm sensing another presence within you.

Yes. A creature of tremendous mental capacity.

It survives by imposing its will on another?

Yes.

Why would you do such a thing?

These creatures are a great enemy of human kind. There must be a defense.

They are creatures of the Dark side then?

They are dangerous. Cruel. Ruthless.

Like many humans.

Their technology gives them much advantage.

Then their technology is their weakness.

Derek, humans are not ready to resist these aliens.

When the time comes, all will be as it should. Good will triumph over evil. I've always believed that. I still do.

It is good to talk with you again, my friend.

I will always be here for you, just as you were for me when I needed you.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she continued to commune with the spirit of her friend Derek Rayne. She sensed the presence of the portal buried in the sub-basement of the house. The portal Derek had given his life to reseal. A handy thing to have nearby, she felt, just in case.

Local mythology has it that an angel tasked with plugging one of the entrances to Hell did so with enough force to flood the bay creating the island that bears its name. Of course, most modern people reading the legend assumed Alcatrez was the portal to Hell. Once The Legacy had rediscovered the actual location, the San Francisco house was founded on Angel Island. Considering the importance of its location and purpose, past prefects of the San Francisco house were usually accorded more leeway in handling its affairs than was expected at the more traditional houses, say Boston, London, Rome or Amsterdam. Dr. Derek Rayne, inheriting the position from his father, was by far the most unorthodox prefect in the modern Legacy. Before sacrificing himself, Derek had passed the prefect's ring to Nick – for safekeeping only, Nick had insisted, convinced Derek would return. When the house's structure was destroyed on the eve of the millennium by Derek, and him along with it, however, the Ruling House in London had been ready to use the rebuilding as an excuse to crack down on discipline. The fact that many of Derek's contemporaries and other senior members of The Legacy had been murdered or died in the line of duty during the last decade of the second Christian millennium left them with few suitable choices for prefect, none of whom were likely to sit well with Nick in any case who always insisted his trust be earned by any superior. Nick agreed to remain in The Legacy fold long enough to oversee the rebuilding of the house and its security out of loyalty to his Legacy family – Alex and Rachel. Alex Moreau was the senior member, but her heartbreak over her mentor's loss, lack of leadership experience and her past vulnerability to the Dark side made her too risky a choice given the importance of the house. Dr. Rachel Corrigan, perfectly suited to the administrative role, maintained her distance from The Legacy to raise her daughter and continue her successful independent career as a practicing psychiatrist. She was a little too self-sufficient for the Ruling House's taste.

At this juncture, Ville had returned to console and guide. By The Legacy charter, any Immortal - Ville's race – was barred from any leadership role in The Legacy, but they were welcomed as advisors. Ville pledged herself as the Guardian of the San Francisco House – unprecedented in Legacy history. As such, she was able to act as liaison to the Ruling House to the relief of everyone involved. The rebuilding took a year during which Ville encouraged the team unity that the surviving members felt toward each other and she began spoon-feeding Nick lessons in patience, diplomacy and tact. With Rachel and Alex joining in, he felt like a pig being fattened for the slaughter. The fact that he didn't want the job – he thought Alex should have it - made him perfect for it. Alex and Nick had several long heart to heart talks. Ville made her recommendation to the Ruling Council that Nick Boyle succeed Derek as prefect of the San Francisco House. When they finally offered him the job, he set the tone of his tenure by replying he'd think about it and get back to them.

Now, he could admit that being the prefect of the only house with an Immortal Guardian had its plus side. At the end of his quarterly report to London detailing, amoung other things, proposed research grant applications being considered by the Luna Foundation, black market activity of stolen artifacts and recovery of such, the status of translations requested by other Houses, etc, he merely added, "The Guardian of the House is currently in residence and we will be devoting resources to rendering any assistance she may require in her current activities to be reported at a later date." Cutting the link without waiting for a reply, he chuckled to himself, "Oh yeah. Dear Diary, today I actually loved my job."

Exiting the front office, he met up with Rachel arriving for the day. "What's with the big grin?" she asked.

"I just got to blow off the London House – Ville arrived last night. Something pretty strange is going on with her and our people picked up two USAF officers on the island looking for her. So me and Alex put 'em all up for the night and today, hopefully, we get to find out what's going on," he explained cheerfully.

"Wow. Another exciting day in the life."

"It's good to be the king, Rachel."

"Yeah, it's good me and Alex got your back for ya, huh?"

"Without a doubt, I am one lucky man. Let's go get some breakfast and meet our contestants."

"You're a nut!" she laughed.

"Sir, you wouldn't believe some of the stuff they have here – a fortune in rare paintings, sculptures, artifacts. And I checked out the library this morning. Boy, Daniel would've loved it here. What about you? Find anything to tell us what they do out here?"

"Flowers, Carter. They've got butt loads of flowers. And gargoyles." O'Neill gestured emptily. He hadn't found anything unusual on the grounds. As they strolled into foyer towards the stairs, Alex met them and introduced herself.

Carter said, "Mr. Boyle mentioned that Ville was a colleague of yours. What does she do here?"

Alex answered, "She's a consultant."

"Of?"

"Anthropology, history, mostly."

O'Neill tried a curve ball, "Did you know her dad was Jesus Christ?"

Alex laughed politely, "Yes, I had guessed that from the information she's contributed to our archives."

Carter asked, feigning skepticism, "You buy that?"

Alex resisted the bait. "I think Ville is your best source in that regard."

Carter and O'Neill exchanged surprised looks behind Alex's back. "Freaky," Carter whispered. "You're one to talk," O'Neill retorted quietly as they followed Alex.

A continental breakfast was served in the conference room where Rachel was introduced and Nick addressed O'Neill, "So, Colonel, how can we be of assistance in this situation?"

"Actually, the situation is under control. We just need to get Ville back to a secure location. It's a matter of public safety."

Nick shook his head, "She's requested sanctuary and I've already extended it to her." Rachel pointed out, "Colonel, we know that you can't really contain her without her cooperation. Since she's here, obviously she's not cooperating."

Nick challenged, "Yeah, why is that, Colonel?"

O'Neill retorted, "Look I don't know what your problem with the Navy was, but I'm sure you remember the meaning of the word 'classified'?"

"Human or not, she's a civilian. What did you air jocks do to her?"

Carter objected, "Ville volunteered for this. In fact it was her idea. We're just trying to assist her. Her presence here is endangering all of you; she has no right to do that."

Rachel added, "Whatever she's done, can't we all agree she should be asked to undo it? Perhaps we can influence her. We're extremely familiar with her people's ethics system."

"What she's done is taken on an alien parasite in a grand experiment to speed up human evolution. Only she doesn't feel confident enough in the Air Force's ability to protect us all so she's come here. Does that about cover it, Colonel?" Nick continued challenging O'Neill.

Carter countered, "How is here better than the a remote high security base?"

Alex answered diplomatically, "The military aren't the only ones with secrets the rest of the world is better off not knowing, Major."

Rachel proposed, "None of us want to see this situation get out of control, so we why don't we share information and work together? You know about this creature and we have a personal relationship with Ville…."

"So do we," O'Neill admitted to Carter's surprise. The Colonel did not readily admit to any personal matters.

Nick admitted solemnly, "We may have the ultimate solution in this house, in case things go wrong."

Alex gasped, "You think that's why she came here?"

"Whoa, what are you saying, Nick?" Rachel asked.

Nick seated himself at the head of the table. "Rachel is a scientist," he reminded O'Neill and Carter. "Rachel, tell them what we do here. Take a seat, Colonel, you might need it."

Rachel and Alex exchanged looks. Alex nodded and took her seat next to Nick while Carter and O'Neill sat at the other end of the table. "Well, basically, we help people that others can't. In addition to our philanthropic work, we also investigate…unusual claims. Claims having to do with the supernatural or paranormal. We have all personally witnessed things that our current science cannot adequately explain."

"Such as…?" Carter asked in honest curiousity.

Rachel cited, "Creatures, psychic manifestations…the first time I was brought to this house, I'd been attacked…and impregnated by a demon. The Legacy helped me."

Nick cut to the chase for her, "She have birth to it; we managed to kill it before it destroyed everything."

Alex admitted, "I was once changed into a vampire."

Nick added, "I was nearly her first kill."

"Which, if completed successfully, would have damned me forever."

Rachel continued, "We've worked with people possessed, corrupted, destroyed by dark forces; souls of the dead tortured, trapped, unable to pass over to the other side, seeking help from the living; evil entities and creatures bent on destroying the world and feeding an endless appetite for destruction."

Nick smirked, "Great album title. Bad choice of hobby."

O'Neill and Carter shared a look. O'Neill stood, "Oh-kay…. Look, it's been real nice meeting you folks and all, but why don't we just take Ville back to our place and let you get on with…uh, yeah, I think that would be best. Carter?" Carter pulled out her scanner.

Nick shook his head, "I don't think you were paying attention, Colonel. Ville came here for a reason; she's not leaving with you unless she wants to and I don't see how you can make her."

"My orders are to bring her in. And point of fact, Boyle, she is a civilian advisor to the military and as such is subject to orders. You remember orders, right? Now, I can have special forces landed on your front lawn in twenty minutes if you get in my way."

"And I can have the press here in ten to film their arrival for the noon news," Nick countered, " 'Air Force Tracks Alien To Bay Area'. I don't think your superiors would appreciate that, would they, Colonel?"

"Silence. This bickering is pointless."

Startled, Rachel glanced at Alex and Nick. "Uh, Ville, it's good to see you. How do you feel?"

Ville's eyes waxed and dimmed. "We are well."

"So you've still got Juniorette," O'Neill remarked glibly.

"The blending proceeds."

"Blending?" Rachel asked.

Nick explained, "With the alien entity she's carrying."

Rachel looked at Ville, "Do you intend to join with this thing permanently?"

"There is much knowledge to be gained from this experience. This House will continue to offer the Colonel and Major our hospitality. They may observe and assist if We require."

O'Neill said, "With all due respect, you are not yourself and not in any condition to be making decisions that affect the safety of…of civilians."

"Colonel O'Neill, where we conduct the experiment is my perogative. We will continue the experiment here. Rest assured that the well-being of all remains a paramount concern."

Alex spoke up, "With all due respect, Ville. How can we be sure you are acting of your own will and not being controlled by this, this other thing?"

O'Neill reacted appreciatively, "Thank you!"

Nick asked neutrally, "I'd like Rachel to evaluate you, Ville, if you don't mind?"

Ville nodded in a deliberate motion. "We will permit this." Rachel shared another nervous glance with Alex and Nick. Nick let Rachel know he had her back with a familiar motion from their days as field partners. Confidently, Rachel moved to Ville's side. She understood her job was to gather information from Ville that Nick for some reason had not been able to get himself. That in itself told her something.

"This is the best way to proceed, Colonel. I can't imagine you'd have the means to confine and transport a being that can dematerialise at will," Alex suggested. Quietly, Carter concurred.

"Do ya, Colonel?" Nick asked with a scathing grin.

"Shut-up. Alright, we'll play this out in-situ, but if anything goes even slightly awry, I'm pulling the plug. You will come back with us if we have to tweak every ethical fiber in your being."

"You assume, Colonel, that my host's ethical system has not been affected by the blending. Nothing of the host survives."

O'Neill replied menacingly, "That's a damned lie and we both know it."

"Sir," Carter cautioned quietly, "We still have another option."

Ville turned her back on him dismissively. "Dr. Corrigan, you will accompany us."

Nick closed the conference room doors behind them and turned to question O'Neill. "What the hell was that all about?"

"What did she mean, 'Nothing of the host survives'?" Alex asked in alarm.

When O'Neill didn't speak, Carter quietly suggested, "Sir, I think they deserve to know."

"Fine. Tell 'em."

Carter briefed them on the basic intel on the Goa'uld symbiote, recounting her own episode as the brief host of the Tok'Ra Jolinor and including Daniel Jackson's theory that something of the host does indeed survive the blending. "Basically, it's a contest of wills. The Goa'uld are too powerful for most human minds. With Ville, at first, she seemed in complete control, but we think she may have tried sharing more of her mind with it. You should also know that the tracking device she's carrying has an explosive charge."

Alex looked puzzled. "What good does that do? We've seen Ville contain powerful energies before."

Nick shook his head, "She would've convinced them she'd voluntarily allow herself to be destroyed by it. But if her will is compromised…."

"So she came here to use the portal instead?"

"She knows Derek sealed it, Alex…."

"Portal?" O'Neill and Carter asked in unison. O'Neill yielded to Carter. "What kind of portal?"

Somberly, Nick crossed his arms. "A little something we keep in the basement. A portal. To Hell."

"Natu?" O'Neill inquired with surprise.

"Well, Natu is the Egyptian underworld, that would be one name for it," Alex allowed.

Carter asked, "This portal is a transportation device?"

Nick replied, "Not exactly."

"In a dimensional sense, perhaps."

O'Neill turned to Carter anxiously, "They're not talking about alternate realities, are they? 'Cause you know how I hate those."

"Hell," Nick repeated sarcastically, "Maybe you've heard of it - the devil, eternal torment, lakes of fire? I can vouch for its existence because my dead brother escaped from it once," he added.

"Now, see, so did we but it was called Natu and it was halfway across the galaxy. On a moon, as I recall, wasn't it, Carter?"

Alex asked, "You mean an actual physical place?" as Carter asked, "You mean the Biblical Hell?"

"Yes!" the men exclaimed.

"What the Hell difference does it make anyway?" O'Neill wanted to know.

Nick rubbed his eyes, "This is turning into a Hell of day."

"Cut it out, you two!" Alex barked, surprising everyone including herself. "Why we don't we just show it to you," she offered the air force officers.

O'Neill felt deeply disappointed. "It's a hatch," he reiterated for the third time.

"That opens into Hell," Nick repeated again.

"Rachel & I have seen it open," Alex vouched. "It's apocalyptic on the other side, I can assure you." She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.

Carter tried to lighten the mood. "I supposed opening it's out the question." Nick responded, "We paid a high price to batten that thing down, Major."

"But you think Ville can re-open it?" Carter suggested.

"Now see, I don't get that – wouldn't that be endangering the entire planet?" O'Neill complained. He hated it when things weren't simple and straightforward.

"Sir, if Ville can generate enough energy to send you home from across several light years, I'm guessing she can generate enough to open and re-seal this. That's gotta be her plan. What I don't get is how the Goa'uld missed it."

Nick surmised, "She's very good at compartmentalising. If you're right and this thing got the drop on her, her mental defenses would've kicked in, thrown up some walls. She's playing guerilla warfare in her own psyche; biding her time to recover."

"But she also wants to collect as much data from the experiment before she shuts it down. That's gotta be what she's thinking," Alex concluded.

Nick shook his head. "Making the noble sacrifice if necessary."

O'Neill agreed, "She's always doin' that."

"Let's go back upstairs. Just bein' down here brings back some really bad memories."

Rachel sat a comfortable distance away – close enough to inspire confidence, distant enough to maintain objectivity. Psychiatry 101. "So, what is it like, Ville?'

"Imagine your soulmate."

"Soul mate?" the doctor responded neutrally.

"The one you would know so well, whose thoughts would mirror your own so precisely that no communication is needed. All is known and shared instantly, harmoniously."

"Is that what you're experiencing right now?"

"It is the goal we seek."

"For humankind?"

"Of course."

"What about for yourself?"

"We seek to fulfill our destiny. As always."

"And what destiny would that be?"

"The same as your destiny."

"Well, we're not here to talk about my destiny."

"Human destiny."

Rachel smiled, "Ah, you had me for a second there. So are you saying that you believe human destiny is to join with these alien creatures and share our bodies with them?"

"The sharing can go much beyond that. The touching of minds, millenia of memories and the wisdom to go with them. Your race would benefit greatly."

"And what does this creature get out of all this?"

"Fulfillment of its potential, the ability to apply its knowledge."

"Companionship?"

Ville hesitated significantly. "Of course."

"Well, I think what we're all having a little problem with is: how can we be sure you're sharing your mind equally? That this creature isn't influencing you?"

"I can assure you tis so."

Rachel experienced a definite chill at that.

the battle of the portal

Nick collapsed on the cellar floor. Moments and an eternity later, he sensed the women rushing into the chamber. Carter called to O'Neill. As he faded, Nick heard Rachel calling his name.

He could still feel Ville in the link with him; he'd managed to hold on to her despite her struggle to cast herself with the Goa'uld into Hell. The symbiote was definitely gone – they'd won that battle, too, but she was weak and Nick exhausted. She'd stopped fighting him once he and O'Neill closed the Portal. She'd resealed it and the reverberations had thrown O'Neill from their link.

Ville and Nick were alone now. When Nick first met her as a much younger man, they had formed a deep and lasting bond. In the decades since, whenever she was near, they orbited like companion stars round a common gravity point. This was entirely different. When he breathed, she drew breath. When he slept, she rested. While she was weak, he sustained her. While he was unconscious, she waxed and waned, like the tides.

The strength of this bond would enable Ville to recover more rapidly than she had previously with O'Neill. A few years before, she was with O'Neill when he became stranded after the improbable destruction of a Stargate on an alien world. She could easily have returned to Earth herself but would not abandon him. With the aid of a power source abandoned by the Ancients, Ville expended her energy to create a wormhole to return O'Neill to Earth. In her dying moment, she reached out to O'Neill to say goodbye as he materialized in the SGC. A mere remnant of her self survived in his subconscious - manifesting only in O'Neill's dreams for a very long time. This remnant slowly regained strength not as an independent entity, but as a new component of O'Neill's personality. He began to think of her randomly during his waking moments, then more and more obsessively. He began seeing her upon waking in the mornings, speaking with her before rising each new day. Uncharacteristically, he considered psychiatric help. When he began exchanging words with her in the presence of his team, they wondered if the guilt of his career in Special Ops had finally caught up with him. Privately and individually, they expressed their concerns for his well-being. With their help, O'Neill began a long process of drawing Ville out, getting her to recognize herself as a separate and foreign but benevolent entity. For Nick, this was not a problem.

They were more closely intertwined than any two lovers, any set of twins. Fighting against her self-destruction and capable of tapping into her energy to do so, Nick put himself at risk and so deliberately provoked her protection. Thus he willed her survival. The energy equation was close, but Nick's gamble that O'Neill's connection with Ville would provide the reserve they needed paid out even money. His Teacher would have chided him for his stubbornness and foolish risk taking had she not been caught in his trap of having to save herself in order to save him. He felt her sigh in his soul.

'Nick….'

'I'm here, babe. Easy now.'

'Wh…? What happened?'

'We did it; it's gone. We're safe.'

'How….?'

'The portal.'

'Jack?'

'He's near.'

'Not here?'

'No, just us. You and me.'

'So tired.'

'I know. Everything's okay. Rest.'

He comforted her, wrapping his thoughts around her. He joyfully welcomed her into his thoughts as she grew stronger.

Rachel was still calling his name. His eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on the bedposts stretching toward the ceiling. He tried to turn his head and received a pounding for the effort. He moaned and closed his eyes again.

"Nick?" Rachel repeated hopefully.

He managed to croak, "Yeah."

Rachel sighed conspicuously. "God, you had us worried, Nick. What happened down there?"

Nick laughed involuntarily and immediately regretted it. "Hell happened down there," he said.

"That's not funny, Nick. At least your black sense of humour survived."

Ville prompted him to ask, "O'Neill?"

"The colonel sustained a concussion, but otherwise he's okay."

"Mm," Nick responded.

"How's your head?"

"Like I've got the biggest hangover of my life."

"Well, as soon as you feel like it, the Major, Alex and I are dying to know what happened down there."

"Didn't Colonel O'Neill tell you?"

"He doesn't know. He had Major Carter check the two of you for that alien but she says it's gone. Apparently she has some weird ability to detect those things."

"It's gone to Hell," Nick confirmed. He laughed and slowly reopened his eyes to look up at Rachel. "We did it, Rachel."

Her face fell. "Nick…Ville's gone, too. I'm so sorry."

He smiled and closed his eyes. He only told her, "We all did what we had to do, Rachel. Like we always do."

His reaction concerned Rachel. Nick had once loved Ville deeply, she knew and he never accepted failure to save his friends and loved ones easily. When he recovered and understood the situation, he would probably need her support then.

"It's over, General. The Goa'uld's been taken out but unfortunately, so has Ville. Yes, sir, Carter and I are returning to base as soon as we 'debrief' our civilian counterparts. I am sorry, too, General. Thank you, sir." O'Neill put away his cell phone and turned to Carter. "I want to talk to Boyle. Then we're outta here."

O'Neill confronted Boyle. "So what happened? I thought you had her."

"What else can I say, Colonel? She's very strong."

"That's all? Look, I know how close you two were – there wasn't time to hide little things like that from each other. You don't seem as broken up about it as you should."

"Like you said, Colonel, there wasn't much time and you don't know crap about my relationship with Ville. As far as I'm concerned, you people caused this. If you want someone to blame, blame yourselves."

"Just between me and you, I was against this from the start. This was her experiment."

"Then you know just how hard it can be to change her mind when she's decided to do something for the 'betterment of mankind'," Nick dismissed O'Neill coldly. "Get off our island, Colonel; we'd like to mourn our loss now."

Nick brooded blackly for the next several weeks. Alex was surprised one afternoon to find him in his office, standing over his desk leafing through the reports she'd been leaving. She entered softly. He barely acknowledged her with a glance.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

Nick sighed without answering. Then he shrugged. "Fine. Considering."

"Listen, if you need to talk…."

"Thanks, Alex. I don't really feel like talking. You know?"

Alex realised which reports he was going through. "I can handle the monthly briefing for London if you don't feel like dealing with it. I'm sure they'll understand, considering the circumstances."

"Thanks, but, uh, considering the news, I think I should be the one to report what happened. Nobody really knows the details better than me, right?"

"They're probably gonna have a lot of questions. I could dodge those for you," she offered.

Nick shook his head. "Better to get it over with and move on. The Dark side doesn't give us much time to bury our dead, does it?"

Alex recalled Derek's death. And Kristen's death. And Julia's death…. "No, it doesn't." An awkward silence stretched out between them.

Rachel recognised that Nick Boyle was maturing a great deal right under her nose. Seventeen months after the incident with the Air Force, his Legacy sisters agreed he was mellowing out amazingly well. He still enjoyed teasing them but did so with greater sophistication and subtlety. They found him willing to carry on longer conversations in greater depth when discussing the subjective issues for which he previously had no patience. Nick was never stupid but his father's parenting and coming of age in the military had cast his mind in a very pragmatic mold. Rachel noticed he had begun exercising analytical lines of thought and, more surprisingly, to develop an ability to synthesize abstract ideas and concepts in the pursuit of esoteric options and solutions. In essence, he seemed to be developing diametrically opposed mental skill sets that normally occurred in only eleven percent of the general population. Given her empathic leanings, Alex's assessment was less clinical. She mentioned to Rachel that sometimes she noticed him smiling and nodding to himself as if responding to some interior dialogue. Nick was not one to live in his head. Then she walked into his office one day and saw him balancing a pencil on its sharpened lead point. Later, she had trouble convincing herself that he had been holding it in place with the barest touch of his finger. She wanted to buy into his explanation that he been lucky in 'guessing' that she was coming to tell him the Rome House wanted a conference call about another bone ossuary because he 'must have' gleaned that particular item from the one hundred plus page report he'd glanced at on her desk a week before.

Rachel responded, "So now you're not so sure?"

Alex considered her answer carefully. "I feel like there's so much more to Nick these days than ever before. I'm just not sure how else to describe it."

Jonathan "Jack" O'Neill had also come of age in the military. For a divorced single guy, his house was usually fairly neat and tidy. This morning though, the kitchen island was littered with open, partially emptied take-out food containers. The trashcan was overflowing with pizza boxes. The stereo in the corner of the living room was tuned to a classical radio station, having been left on all night with the volume turned down.

O' Neill snored softly as he lay over on his front, his right arm tucked under his body, the other flayed out on the bed beside him. He was on top of the unmade bedcovers in an Air Force academy t-shirt and drawstring pajama bottoms. There were a few empty beer bottles on the nightstand.

"Jack."

The snoring continued unabated.

"Jack."

O'Neill's nose twitched as if irritated.

"Jack, wake up."

He rolled over onto his back thinking how much things must have changed in his life that the appearance of his friend Daniel Jackson, who coincidently had died several years ago, standing at the foot of his bed trying to wake him up – before sunrise, on a Sunday, mind you – did not immediately jolt him awake and he wondered if this meant he was getting too old for this shit. He peeled on eye open and shut it again.

Daniel was still standing at the foot of his bed in the stance he adopted whenever impatiently concerned about something – arms crossed, shoulders hunched up defensively, his glasses low on his nose – and intent that O'Neill do something about it, preferably right now. "I always hated it when you looked like that," he grumbled.

"Jack, this is important."

"Yes, Daniel, it's always important with you. Do you know what time it is?"

"I just need to ask you about something."

"Let me guess - something important?" O'Neill asked flippantly.

"Yes."

"Daniel! I'm sleeping. It's Sunday. There's no school today. I'm going back to sleep now." He rolled over again.

"Jack, I just need to ask you what happened."

"You DIED, remember? You were there."

Daniel seemed to hesitate. "I'm not talking about me, Jack. I need to find Ville."

Jack lay on his side, but his eyes were open now. His well-honed suspicions kicked in. "Ville?" He turned his head and looked at the figure at the end of the bed. This was not the first time he'd seen Daniel since Dr. Jackson's untimely off world death years before. He sat up and rubbed his face with his fists. The colonel had never ceased to be irritated that such an intelligent guy could be so slow on the uptake and that was when the guy had been alive. Now there was this business of existence on a higher plane. Daniel had explained before that his ascension had made him neither omniscient nor omnipotent and that there were Others and the Others had Rules, which, O'Neill had pronounced, Sucked Royally.

Undoubtedly, by asking the question he was about to ask, Daniel would proceed to lecture him again metaphysically. This requires coffee, Jack decided. He got up and walked to the kitchen. He ground his own beans and loaded up the Mr. Coffee. No cappuccino machine in the O'Neill household.

He turned to stare at Daniel across the litter of Chinese take out cartons. There were a few unopened Fortune cookies. "If I open this cookie, what's it gonna say?" Daniel smiled. "An old friend will show up at your house."

Jack opened it and read aloud, "Friends long absent are coming back to you. Thought you weren't allowed to do that?"

Daniel shrugged, "Even you could've guessed that."

"What are you doing here, Daniel?"

Daniel pursed his lips, studying O'Neill's face and tone. "I'm trying to find Ville."

O'Neill planted his hands on the counter and hung his head. Jack asked the question. "What do you want from me, Daniel?"

"Just tell me what happened."

O'Neill shrugged, "She's gone."

"I know. Where?" Daniel asked neutrally.

"I don't know, Daniel. You're the one that's dead, you tell me."

"You think she's dead?"

Jack shrugged guardedly, "Or whatever passes for death for someone…like her."

Daniel seemed a beat optimistic, "You think she experienced a calling?"

"Sure…whatever," Jack said evasively.

"You were with her when it happened, Jack."

O'Neill went cold. "What makes you think that?'

Daniel explained patiently, "Jack, I can sense her in you."

O'Neill played it off, "That's from before."

"If you tell me happened, we might be able to figure out a way to get her back."

From behind his back, O'Neill pulled out the gun he'd discreetly picked up on the way to the kitchen and hidden under a towel while grinding the coffee. Coldly, he said, "You're not Daniel Jackson. I don't know if this'll have any effect on whatever you are but I gotta imagine a full clip of rounds passing through you has got to irritate."

The man in front of him morphed slightly, losing a few inches and the glasses, taking on a full head of thick black hair, a significant nose and crystal blue eyes. He held his hands out from his waist in a clear posture of placation. "I'd hate for you to put six slugs into your kitchen wall over a misunderstanding," he offered in an Irish brogue.

Confused, O'Neill regarded him sidewise. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

The young man dropped his hands, obviously annoyed and morphed again, the nose growing smaller and the hair sandy brown. He still had the brogue, "Wrong family resemblance." O'Neill flipped his wrist up and took his finger off the trigger. The resemblance to Ville was disconcerting at best. "What the hell is this?"

"My name is Jonathan Thomas Evans. I'm looking for my mother, Colonel, and I think you can help me."

Jack continued to look startled. "This is a 12 round clip..."

"And in your zeal to leave…'work' last evening – Mary Steenbergen movie on TV - you forgot to reload the clip in that pistol. I apologise for spying on you, Colonel, but you wouldn't parachute into unknown territory without at least glancing at a map first now would you?"

O'Neill admitted, "No, I wouldn't but even you could've guessed that," he finished sarcastically.

The young man admitted, "Fair play. May I shake your hand?" he politely extended his. O'Neill hesitated, then shrugged and took it.

And was bombarded with a flood of sounds, sights, thoughts and feelings. It was over in a few seconds. He shook his head to clear it. He looked at Jonathan in surprise. Not understanding how, he now knew he was looking at Ville's son; the very one she'd been searching for when she first appeared in the SGC eight years ago. "Whoa," he said softly, thinking it was a lot less painful than having an Ancients' database download itself into his brain.

"Thank you for allowing me that, Colonel. I find that beats asking a lot of stupid questions and dancing 'round the subject."

O'Neill marveled at the new information in his head, already organised and filed away in neat categories that actually made sense to him. "You were a soldier?" then he added derisively, "In the IRA?"

Jonathan shrugged unapologetically, "I thought we were soldiers. Until I met my mother."

Jack examined that memory. "That's kind of a bizarre story."

"Yeah. Colonel, you know what I'm after. I could've taken it from you but she taught me to ask first."

"Yeah, 'the Rules'." He was quite satisfied when Jonathan looked puzzled at his comment. "Uhm, okay?" Instead of speaking further, he offered his hand. Jonathan took it briefly. Jack didn't feel a thing this time but the kid now knew what had happened to him in the basement of a house in San Francisco Bay last year.

'Do not fear what you are about to suffer'

Nick bolted awake in a cold sweat, hoping like hell the voice he's just heard in his head was only a bad, very bad dream. He wiped and pulled at his face, listening intently. His pulse began to slow. He breathed in, he breathed out. He stilled his mind and touched her thoughts.

"Do not attempt to touch my thoughts again," she warned him.

But did she really say it or was he remembering?

'Ville? Ville, talk to me. Come on, you can do this. Talk to me. Come on, babe, I know you're there. It's okay, come on out. I'm here to protect you. Come on out.'

'Out of the darkness.'

'Yes. Come towards me, towards the light.'

'Afraid.'

'Yeah, I know. You were having a bad dream, but it's all over now.'

'Scared.'

'I'm right here, honey. All you have to do is come to me.'

'Falling.'

'It's okay to fall, I'll catch you. I promise. I won't let anything bad happen to you.'

"Home run, Nicky"

'Right, just like I took care of Tommy, I'll take care of you.'

'Hold me?'

'Come to me, Ville.'

'Nicky,' the little girl whined.

'Come on, Ville, you can do it. I know you can do it.'

'Here. Tired.'

'That's it, I've got you. It's okay, it was a bad dream. The monster's gone. You made it go away. You were very brave.'

'I love you, Nicky.'

"I love you, too, babe." He lay down exhausted and felt her cradled just within his skin.

Jonathan Evans gazed toward the Bay from Pier 9, which Nick would have called their 'old stomping grounds'. He recalled the amazing journey that brought him here in the midnight days – the time between Ireland and San Francisco when he and Ville had crossed America from New York on a second hand motorcycle. Not just a trip through the landscape, but through microcosms of life as they frequently stopped for weeks at a time, taking jobs for food, shelter and to purchase parts and garage time for the bike. He relived it listening to an equally amazing soundtrack :

'All my life I worshipped her /Her golden voice, her beauteous beat/ How she made us feel How she made me real'

The cruel irony being :
The sound of these two voices perfectly intertwined singing a song about a woman they didn't even know they had both loved in another time, another place,

Written by an infamous author in a novel that weirdly echoed and imperfectly mirrored the life and careers of these same three people, namely,

His two fathers, destined to be life long friends and great mates in every lifetime but Jonathan's own,

And his mother, the fabulous creature that had borne him into the world only to lose him for eighteen years until wicked Fate brought him back to her.

'Go lightly down your darkened way/Go lightly underground/I'll be down there in another day/I won't rest until you're found'

Tomorrow upon his return to Angel Island, he hoped to discover whence wicked Fate had whisked her this time.

"General, this mission is a basic meet-n-greet-we've-done-'em-a-hundred-times and while I appreciate the chance for SG-1 to go out and catch the occasional pop-fly, I think Teal'c and Jonas can handle this one. They could take SG-23; Major Wallace's team could use the field time."

"Very well, Colonel. Teal'c, Jonas, it's all yours."

Jonas shot Sam an inquisitive confused look. Sam indicated to him she didn't know what was up but she would tell him later if she could and good luck. Walking into the briefing, O'Neill had given her a heads up that he was going to ask to be excused from the mission and it was up to her if she wanted to take command or stick with him. "No offense, sir, but you're not going to ask me to go fishing in Minnesota again?" After getting a negative response, she decided it might be interesting to find out what the Colonel was up to and let Teal'c and Jonas take the mission. Teal'c had led armies as First Prime of Apophis and he was good for Jonas' confidence.

General Hammond waited after Teal'c and Jonas were well out of the room before asking O'Neill why he's asked to be excused from the mission.

"I had an interesting 'encounter' over the weekend," O'Neill said carefully while Hammond and Carter exchanged looks, and then dropped his bombshell, "Ville's kid came to see me."

Startled, the General blurted out, "Jonathan Evans came to see you?" stealing O'Neill's thunder.

Dumbfounded (not hard, Carter thought) O'Neill asked respectfully, "You remember a name in a debriefing report from eight years ago, General?"

It was Hammond's turn to look dumbfounded. "Actually, I was re-reading that document just last week…."

"Along with the report on Daniel's death?" O'Neill asked.

Now Carter was dumbfounded as Hammond answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact. How did you know that, Colonel?"

"Lucky guess, sir." O'Neill reported Jonathan's apology for 'spying'. Hammond looked vaguely spooked so Carter suggested Sgt. Siler's team break out the TER's to sweep the base for other invisible spies just in case. Hammond gestured to the airman guarding the door to summon Siler ASAP.

Carter said, "Sir, you're not suggesting Jonathan 'influenced' the General to review those reports so he could read over his shoulder?"

Hammond added irritably, "What about the vaunted ethics Ville's people are supposed to have?"

O'Neill speculated, "Well, apparently the newer model is basically a human using his mother's teaching to tap into supposedly natural abilities."

"The newer model?" Carter repeated. "She's tried to jump start human evolution before and succeeded? Why wouldn't she have told us that?"

"I don't think that was the plan, Carter. She was in love with this guy, she wanted to have his kid, he died, big tragedy. She had the kid anyway, but lost him to some political nuts and didn't see him again until he was twenty-one."

Hammond demanded, "Colonel, how much time did you spend with this boy?"

"About a half-hour."

"He convinced you of all this in one half-hour?"

"Actually, he didn't have to convince me, he just…sort of…down-loaded it."

Hammond snapped, "Colonel, report to Dr. Fraiser in the infirmary, now!"

Jonathan took the next ferry over. He presented himself at the security gate and greeted Henderson by name. The security chief kept the puzzlement off his face but not out of his eyes. "Do I know you, sir?"

Jonathan grinned charmingly. "Must have been another life." He presented his Luna Foundation credentials. To Henderson's mild surprise Jonathan Evans was on the list. "Sorry, sir, I thought I knew all the names on the list. I'll need you to submit to a retinal scan for confirmation."

"Sure. S.O.P." The security database matched his retina with the existing record but Henderson frowned slightly when Jonathan's record pulled up on the screen. According to the Luna Foundation archives, Jonathan Evans had been an active member of the house during Dr. Rayne's tenure, not long after Henderson himself had begun working there. He looked at Jonathan again closely.

"Like I said, Chief, it was another life." With a minor effort he pushed at Henderson's thoughts.

"Of course. Shall I let Mr. Boyle know you're here?"

"I'd like to surprise them, if that's okay with you," he gestured toward the house, "I'm particularly keen to see how Mr. Boyle's put the old girl back together."

Henderson nodded proudly. "The boss did a good job."

"Yes, I can see that already. Thank you." With a devilish grin, he shoved off towards the gardens.

"How is it again that shining a light in my eye tells you whether or not I've been 'brainwashed'?!" O'Neill complained petulantly.

Dr. Fraiser answered patiently, "As you know, Colonel, certain chemicals in your system affect your pupil's response to light. I'm just eliminating all the obvious suspects."

"I knew that."

"I know you know that," she said gently.

General Hammond and Major Carter entered the infirmary. "Well, Colonel, you'll be glad to know the SF's checked out your house and found nothing unusual," Hammond announced.

"With all due respect, sir, did you really think they would?"

"When one of my officers fails to report alien contact in a timely manner, Colonel…."

"Oh, for crying out loud, sir, just because I told you after the briefing instead of before?"

"He's in perfect health, sir," Dr. Fraiser reported.

"Good. Go ahead and finish your report, Colonel."

"Well, the kid drops in on me. At first he pretends to be Daniel…."

"Why would he do that?" Carter asked.

"He thought he could get away with not explaining himself but he slipped up. I called him on it, he came clean, downloaded his whole story into my brain in like two seconds, says he looking for Mom, asks if I can help him."

"Help him how?" Hammond demanded.

"We shook hands and he downloaded what happened in San Francisco from me."

"So he's going there next?" Carter assumed.

"Yeah, and he seemed remarkably unsurprised by the whole thing if you ask me. That's why I think we should go back there, General. If there's any way to retrieve Ville, I think the kid has the best shot."

"You think these Luna Foundation people are hiding Ville? That they faked her demise?" Hammond asked.

O'Neill and Carter shared a look. "I don't think Boyle leveled with us about what happened after the Goa'uld vanished into Hell."

Of course Henderson was too good a security chief not to go ahead and warn his boss company was coming, so Jonathan had the grace not to be disappointed when Nick opened the front door to greet him. Cracking a huge grin, Nick said, "Well, look what washed up on the beach this morning."

"Came back for my bike," Jonathan kidded.

"That hunk of junk? I sold that for scrap years ago," Nick retorted. "It's good to see you, man. Come on in."

"Thanks. Alex around?"

"Of course – where else would Alex be?"

"What's that supposed mean?" Alex asked as she came down the stairs. "Oh, it is so good to see you again. Look at you – you haven't changed a bit!" As they hugged, Jonathan quipped, "Must be the genes."

"Very funny." Jonathan nodded and shared with her his memory of her and the awkward crush he'd had on her. Smiling, she took his face in her hands. Although she was glad to see him, it made her sad, too and she didn't hide why. "I'm so sorry, Jonathan."

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I can't authorize that."

O'Neill responded with an incredulous, "Sir?"

Hammond sighed and placed his hands in the middle of his desk making it clear he was struggling with an issue. O'Neill knew that look and held his tongue. Coming to a decision, Hammond drew a breath. "Look, Jack, what I'm about to tell you does not leave this office. I can't authorize a mission to search for Ville. Her file, which was released to me eight years ago when I confirmed her status with the Pentagon, contains an Eyes Only addendum. The standing orders are : 'no resources to be expended nor extraordinary measures to be taken to recover said agent in the event of her disappearance or apparent demise.' I've been over it, Jack, there's no wiggle room."

O'Neill thought. "What about the security risk?"

"If you ever thought she was a security risk, Colonel, you never would've asked for her to be assigned to your team." The general explained apologetically, "I know how personally you take the loss of a team member, Jack, but I'm sorry. You've got some leave – why not take a few days?"

O'Neill looked up at his commanding officer. He didn't need to be psychic to take the hint. "I might just do that, sir."

Jonathan took her hands as she offered her thoughts but there was nothing useful there - just a sadness for the loss. He offered her strong reassurance in exchange. Don't be sad for me.

Alex opened her eyes with a breath and nodded. He gave her a smile as they parted.

Nick stood a respectful distance away, waiting. He could sense the exchange taking place between Alex and Jonathan but not the substance. It reminded him of the communication he and Ville once shared. Such a long time ago, it seemed. Jonathan kissed Alex on the cheek. "Thanks. I think I need to talk to Nick alone. See you at lunch?"

Alex grinned broadly, "It's a date," she promised. He watched her go into the library before turning his attention to Nick.

"What do you say to a pint?"

"It's nine o'clock in the bloody morning, Nick."

He shrugged. "I've been up since five."

"I see you can take the man out o' the Navy, but not the Navy out o' the man, eh?"

As they walked, Nick left his arm around Jonathan's shoulder. "We're all still in a little bit of shock over what happened. If we'd known how to contact you…."

Jonathan nodded. "I know you would have."

"Sit down, man." Nick opened both bottles and settled at the table. "It is good to see ya again. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"So you really weren't that surprised to see me?" Jonathan leaned back into the chair and looked askance at the bay view. "You know, it's weird. What her existence is like…" he shook his head, "The security chief – I must've joined him at the range two or three times a month while I was working here. He didn't remember me at all today."

"I never understood that either; she always seemed to be the same age or younger every time she showed up. She was this nomad but it was always like she'd never left. Until this time."

"How do you mean?"

"She wasn't exactly herself." Nick gave him a brief account of what occurred.

Jonathan nodded. "It's rather ironic, don't you think? If I'd stayed where she left me…" he spread his hands on the air.

"You did what you thought you had to do."

"…I would've been here to help her."

Nick folded his arms and looked him in the eye. "Why do you think you and she crossed the country from New York on a motorcycle rather than her snapping her fingers and bringing you right to us?"

Jonathan had considered this before. "She wanted time to teach me."

"Yeah? Well, she was also showing you what her life is like. Appear someplace out of nowhere, disappear again, meet people, maybe get to know them, maybe not, moving on without so much as a chance to say goodbye. It's a gypsy's life. Worse, 'cause she can't control it, let alone quit it. What makes you think you could?"

"Because she made me human. I have the power to choose."

"So—what? You gonna use your third wish to free the genie from the bottle?"

"If you insist on putting it like that, I suppose it sounds fairly juvenile. What would you do—if you could, I mean?"

A heavy moment passed between them. Nick stated, "I'd protect her anyway I could."

"Give your life for her?"

No hesitation. "Absolutely." Nick took a big swig of his beer.

Jonathan nodded and toyed with his own bottle. "Now there's a conundrum. She couldn't allow you to give up your life for her. It would go against her nature," he pointed out.

Nick grinned. "You know me – I'm not always the most reasonable guy. So, are you staying or going?"

Jonathan made his choice. Nick approved, "Good. I'll have Frederick whip up some shepard's pie for dinner."

"I could murder another pint or two with that."

"Of course. We're not completely uncivilised here."

Jonathan stated his intention to visit the basement, his mother's final resting place as it were, although, intellectually, he knew she wasn't to be found there. "Later," Nick suggested. "Take a time out now, settle in, catch up with Alex. Rachel's coming in this afternoon. I want you to talk to her first before you go down there. Okay?" It wasn't really a request, Jonathan thought.

Rachel again conducted the session in the drawing room. Dr. Corrigan had no problem with the largeness of the room, as the servants here at Luna Foundation were extremely discreet and often invisible. More pertinent, Jonathan preferred it; he had always associated this room with his mother because of the piano, she thought. She found it interesting that Nick had the same association. "She was a singer when I was born. A performer, like my father. I suppose it was a natural choice for a Teacher given the day and age. I never got to see her on stage, only on a soapbox - speeches and rallies. Political things."

"You didn't like it that she was involved in political things."

"No, it was much too dangerous to be pro-peace in Ireland, even in the south. Worse, she appeared open and careless to her enemies; that made her family vulnerable."

"Including you?" When he didn't answer, she prodded. "Was it those 'political things' that deprived you of a childhood with your mother?"

Jonathan replied firmly on that point. "Not her fault. In fact, at that time, I didn't even believe they were her politics. She was a bloody Yank married to a Welsh Protestant – how could she possibly know anything about oppression in Belfast?" He actually smiled at this memory. "Christ knows I was wrong about that."

Relaxed, he floated in darkness, concentrating.
Concentrated, he worked inward, focusing.
Focused, he raised her consciousness, relaxing.

"My mother was an extraordinary woman, Rachel. I realised it almost immediately. I felt I knew her before I ever even approached her. I took my time, spiraled into her orbit as it were. Her presence grew in my mind the longer I stayed near her; I could feel it tuggin' at me. I'd never felt anything like it but I wasn't seduced by it – it was too pure for that. I didn't want to believe, but I couldn't help it – it was so bloody obvious : this is my mother, this is where I belong."

"But you left…"

"More than once," he admitted. "Because of my sister, at first, but I don't wish to talk about her. When her father, my mother's husband, died, Ma sent for me. She was free of her obligation to the mortal family she created. It was time to move on. I had told her years before that I knew she would leave when he died and that I wanted to go with her. We didn't even know if it was possible. She'd given me the power to choose in the womb and, apparently, it worked." He shook his head with a sly grin. "We woke up on a transatlantic flight, no tickets, no boarding passes..."

"…and there's no stopover between Shannon and New York. So you both just materialised on the plane?"

Jonathan grinned impishly. "Or we'd always been there."

Relaxing, he floated in darkness…
Concentrating, he worked inward…
Focusing, he raised her consciousness…

"Jonathan, why do you want to see the basement?"

"Maybe because I need to. Maybe then, I'll know."

"Know?"

"Whether or not she's really lost to us."

Rachel stared at him. "Do you…sense her presence?"

"No," he played with the keys of the piano.

"Then why do you need to see the basement, Jonathan? Do you think that will give you some sort of closure?"

"Obviously, I can't help wonderin' : if I'd been here - where she brought me, where she left me - could I have helped her? Is that why she came back here? Rachel, do you know what happened here?" He leaned forward, allowing his eyes to beseech her.

Rachel admitted, "I did talk to her. Nick asked me to evaluate her state of mind, a challenge considering…" she trailed off deliberately.

"Rachel. You're not going to give me that doctor-patient-privilege shite, are ya?" he allowed the lilt to lift his voice.

Her face softened even as she glared at him. She leaned forward as well, and said quite sharply, "You know you don't have to use the Irish charm on me, laddie." He leaned back into an open posture and shrugged. "It's a use-it-or-lose-it thing."

…darkness…
…inward…
…CONSCIOUSNESS…

Instantly, transported from deep sleep to hyper-alertness, Nick rolled off his bed into a fight or flight stance, looking around for the danger, seeking to take the fight to the enemy if necessary. His blood sugar dropped treacherously as he realised what had happened had occurred in his head. He staggered to the bathroom and threw up. Running water, cold across his face. Hesitantly, slowly he raised his eyes to the mirror.

Nothing. He ran more water over his face and scrubbed it dry with a rough towel. Swaying slightly, he straightened then stood tall, eyes back to the mirror, desperate to believe the normal reflection was real. A roar exploded behind eyes. Faltering, he fell. He hit the tile floor hard and blacked out.

The next morning the maid's screams brought everyone to the Prefect's bedroom. Rachel did not like the puddle of blood under his head. She checked for his vital signs, then carefully rotated his head just enough to examine the side of his skull with her fingertips. "His vitals are weak, but this appears to be a superficial head wound." She continued checking Nick for other wounds or signs of trauma physical or neurological. "Okay, let's move him. Gently," she gave Jonathan and Frederick specific instructions for moving the unconscious man back to his bed.

Jonathan supported Nick's head and upper body per Rachel's instructions as they carried him, all the time trying to sense Nick's mind. The man appeared unconscious but his brain was working overtime. He detected no discrete thoughts, but a lot of turmoil, roiling impressions, confusion, some of it Jonathan's own confusion. He tuned in Rachel's orders that Nick be kept under close observation. He immediately volunteered to stand the first watch.

Nick had mentored and trained Jonathan in the field after Ville had brought Jonathan to the Legacy. Nick Boyle was no psychic; his connection to Ville relied on Ville's ability to open a conduit from her mind to his. With furrowed brow and heavy heart, Jonathan scrutinized Nick's face as he lay on the bed. Was this the same Nick he had known before? Or was this another reality, one where the San Francisco house members remembered Jonathan even though the hired help did not? Trying to establish a baseline, Jonathan considered Alex. Alex had latent psychic ability but showed no reaction to Nick's present state of mind. He tried to probe Nick's mind, gently, but there was a strong presence resisting any intrusion. Whatever was happening in Nick's mind was very deep, too deep for Alex to notice and just out of Jonathan's own concerted reach. In his short wanderings, Jonathan had slowly allowed himself to test the abilities his mother willed in him on others, conservatively at first growing slowly bolder with confidence. He'd encountered few minds strong enough to block him out purposefully. Most of his race tended to broadcast on open frequencies. No discipline. What could she have possibly been thinking?

What could she have possibly been thinking?

O'Neill presented himself at the gate and showed his I.D., asking for Henderson by name.

"Colonel. Back so soon?"

"Just couldn't get enough of the flowers last time I was here. Had some leave saved up, thought I drop by."

Henderson laughed. "I'll announce you to the house, sir."

"Thanks."

Jack O'Neill's experiences with Ville surprised the hell out of Jonathan. He hadn't known who or what was in Colorado, but that's where his gut had led him. It took him weeks to home in on Colorado Springs. She herself was gone from there – a sensation with which Jonathan had grown all too familiar – but the colonel's presence had definite shadings of her. Make that damned odd shadings of her. Something Jonathan never encountered before.

"To track a ghost through the fog.…"

He had shadowed the colonel at home and at work. The mountain had disappointed, NORAD not really all that remarkable, but on the levels below that : his mother had spoken about the possible futures she had witnessed for the human race but she had never mentioned this thing they called a Stargate. And then there were the two aliens the colonel worked with, Teal'c and Jonas Quinn. That Teal'c was a member of a joined species was obvious to Jonathan immediately. He could sense the adolescent mind of the parasite, weak, slow to mature but what potential…. In Jonas Quinn's office, Jonathan thought he detected the traces of another immortal, Daniel Jackson. He'd never met any other than his mother and the abbot of Mount Melleray. Jonathan pursued this lead for a few days until he realised that Daniel Jackson had died as a human. He 'persuaded' the commanding officer of the facility, a general, to 'review' Daniel Jackson's file, then Ville's. It was like reading her journal. "My, but she's been busy…."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised when the gate called up announcing the visitor. Jonathan opened the front door. "Colonel."

"Hey! I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd drop by and see if you made it okay." O'Neill explained exuberantly. Jonathan smiled knowingly and invited him in.

"You know, I've had one of those things in my head before. It really messes with you like no drug or any amount of alcohol could do. In fact, it's pretty brutal."

"The Sharing is brutal, too, especially the first time. I was scared shitless, confronted by the magnitude of this woman's mind, her presence. It was powerful and frightening." Jonathan laughed laconically. "It was better than sex, actually."

O'Neill shifted his weight uncomfortably. Jonathan continued sympathetically, "I know you shared your mind with her for a long time."

"It wasn't even full strength. Lucky me," O'Neill confided humbly.

"Lucky us. You know what we have in common? The men she chooses?" Jonathan considered his next words carefully based on his brief experience of the Colonel. "My father had the instinct. To his credit, he refused to turn it on anyone but himself. He was a civilian. I'm a soldier. You're a soldier. Nick is a soldier. We're all killers."

O'Neill thought about that for a moment: the urge to kill, the times and circumstances it had come over him in his life. Not the calculated, practiced skill required to do his job which was to protect good people from the bad guys, but the urge to destroy something or someone to right a wrong, to right every wrong ever perpetrated in history. After the accidental death of his son, he had accepted a suicide mission from which he never expected to return. He was ready and willing to destroy the bad guys, a whole planet and the innocent people on it to annihilate himself and his pain and guilt. That, he could now admit, had been unhealthy. But given a rage over the pain of a friend, the persecution of innocents, his fear for his people at the hands of a ruthless, alien race - given the power to stop it, O'Neill knew he would willingly kill for those reasons and not regret nor shed one damn tear over it. He knew the kind of man he truly was and shame was a waste of his time, frankly.

Jonathan nodded in agreement. He understood revenge all too well, thanks to his education in the IRA. They kidnapped him as a child, raised him, controlling his world vision and setting him on a path to murder his own mother – all this to deliver the ultimate humiliation for her decision to publicly oppose them, instead of supporting them or at least keeping her gob shut and staying out The Troubles. In one of the final blows to the IRA's reputation leading to its eventual downfall and peace in Northern Ireland in Jonathan's reality, Ville had saved Jonathan from himself because she hadn't been able to save his father from himself.

O'Neill nodded in understanding. "So where does Boyle fit into this?"

"He's like us – we don't—"

"—leave our people behind."

"Exactly."

"How can he not know if she's still here somewhere?"

"He does know, Jack. He loves her, he always has."

"So what do we do?"

"I had hoped that he would open up to me, but—"

"Ah. I blew it."

"I don't think it's a good sign that he came out of a coma nearly simultaneous with your arrival."

"Ah."

"So now he knows that we know."

"But what do we really know?"

"We know why he did it. And I'm pretty sure I know how he did it."

"Can we do undo it? Without…losing her? For good?"

Jonathan's voice softened, "I'm not willing to sacrifice him, Jack. I know you don't like him, but he did what he thought he had to do and I'll thank him for that. Besides, there's no way she'd let that happen."

The light bulb went off in O'Neill's head. "That son of a bitch!"

"He's a good man. Let me take point on this, Colonel."

"Need me to watch your back?"

"No, but I welcome it all the same. Since you are here, you might as well stay. You might be able to help reach her since you've been through this with her yourself."

"Yeah. Okay," O'Neill answered doubtfully.

Colonel O'Neill's "affliction" wasn't in the general's reports, but Jonathan recognised the shadings of his thoughts, especially when O'Neill was thinking about her. There had been close, prolonged contact of some kind, just nothing like Jonathan had ever experienced. There certainly seemed to be no love lost, more of a patient endurance on the colonel's part. Part of his soul seemed aged beyond his apparent experience, but given his background, there were too many contributing factors to be certain that was all Ville's doing.

Jonathan walked back into Nick's room to spell Alex, mulling over the similarities.

"Alex, I am not staying in bed; I am fine." Nick was getting dressed in fact.

"Nick, you've been unconscious nearly twelve hours since we found you. Rachel says you probably have a concussion."

"I've had worse."

"Alex," Jonathan stopped her from responding. His sharp nod toward the door piqued her. Her eyes flared as she walked past him.

"Well, I'd say we have five minutes before Rachel comes running in. So do mind telling me what the fuck you were doing, Nick?"

Nick pulled a shirt down over his head. "I drank too much, lost my balance, hit my head. No big deal," he answered tersely.

Jonathan got into his face. "That's not what I'm talking about. Did you think you could just use your third wish to free the djinn from the bottle? You think this is what she would have wanted? For either of you?"

Nick returned the hard stare. "I have no idea what you're talking about." He deliberately moved away and turned his back.

Jonathan checked his anger as Rachel entered. "Uh-uh, Nick. Doctor's orders: back to bed. Now."

"Rachel, I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that. The cook is sending up lunch – you will eat, you will stay in this room and rest or you will go to the hospital. Is that what you want?"

Grinning, Nick enjoyed the moment. "Security reports to me, Rachel."

"And their job is to protect the members of this House. Chief Henderson will strap you into that helicopter and personally fly you on my say so."

"Do I at least get Jell-O with my lunch?"

Satisfied, Rachel turned and glared at Jonathan. Startled, he asked, "What did I do?"

With a raised index finger, she ordered him out. She glanced over her shoulder as she closed Nick's door. He was dutifully stretching out on the bed. Rachel turned to Jonathan, "Why is Colonel O'Neill here?"

Jonathan lied blithely, "I asked him to come. To talk about his time with my mother."

"Do you know Nick holds him responsible for what happened to your mother?"

"Whatever you all may think, Ville does as Ville does. With all due respect, Doctor, I know her much better than any of you and that includes Nick. Colonel O'Neill did not cause what happened to her but if you want him to leave, fine, then I'll be leaving with him." He stalked away down the hall.

"Jonathan."

He turned sharply on his heel.

Rachel appealed, "Just keep him away from Nick for the time being, okay?"

"Funny, I don't remember Blame being one of those seven stages you were telling me about. Did you talk to him about what happened to my mother?"

She closed the gap between them so she could lower her voice to admonish him, "Jonathan, you know I can't talk to you about what Nick may have confided in me as a doctor."

"He wouldn't have confided in you as a doctor, Rachel. Do you really think he's going through those - shock, denial, fear, anger, whatever? Does he act like he's going through those stages of grief?"

"It's not a checklist."

"Is blacking out and bashing your head on the floor one of those stages?"

"What are you talking about?"

He looked away momentarily, signaling to her that he wasn't proud of this admission. "When we found him this morning, I tried to find out if he was…alright."

"Jonathan, you didn't—"

He met her reproachful eyes. "Rachel, it wasn't him."

Stunned, Rachel merely stared back until she could bring herself to ask, "What do you mean?"

He persisted, "Have you and Alex noticed anything different about him since she disappeared?"

"They were very close so, of course, her loss would be traumatic."

"I mean anything you wouldn't ordinarily expect."

Rachel hesitated; that was all he needed to press his case, "He has been acting differently, hasn't he? Has he been doing things he couldn't have before? Thinking in ways he couldn't before?"

"I do know they had a deep and passionate relationship and her loss has undoubtedly affected him but I'm not prepared to speculate about the consequences of Nick's psychic or telepathic relationship with your mother."

"You don't have to, Rachel. You know he would've tried to save her and I think he succeeded."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"She is. She's in there." He lowered his voice and pointed at Nick's closed door. Rachel raised her eyebrows. "You can't be serious. You think your mother is haunting or possessing Nick? She wouldn't do that to him."

"No, she wouldn't. I think Nick's managed to capture lightning in a bottle."

Rachel sighed. "Let's get Alex and Colonel O'Neill together before we continue this discussion."

"What's up?" O'Neill asked Jonathan.

"I think the ladies are about to throw down on some suspicions they've been keeping to themselves."

While O'Neill kept his council, the Legacy members discussed their observations of Nick's behaviour for the better part of an hour and the possible conclusions to be drawn.

Jonathan finally asked, "What did he tell the London House?"

Alex admitted, "He wouldn't let me sit in while he made his report."

Rachel asked her, "Can't we pull up the transcript and read it?"

Reluctantly Alex admitted, "I've tried. There's no copy in our local database and London has encrypted their copy. Only the Ruling Council can access it."

Jonathan leaned forward, "He deleted the local copy of the file?"

Alex insisted, "I can't prove Nick did anything with it."

O'Neill spoke into the uncomfortable silence, "So for all you know, Boyle told the Ruling Council she dropped by to smell the roses, then did a Tinkerbell?"

Rachel paced. "They wouldn't encrypt such a routine report."

Jonathan added, "So London knows something we don't but they didn't think it warranted sending an investigator? That doesn't make any sense."

"Unless," O'Neill hinted, "They have standing orders not to question her disappearances."

"That's why you've come back here," Jonathan surmised.

O'Neill ambiguously confirmed, "That may or may not be a true statement."

Alex countered, "The Legacy is a secret society – but they don't take orders from anyone. The question is : why would London encrypt the file rather than simply recording that we opened the portal to banish the Goa'uld and that Ville closed it and disappeared as a result?"

Jonathan's eyes widened. "They're hiding the information from someone else with access to the Archives."

"Don't get paranoid, Jonathan," Rachel warned.

Jonathan shook his head, "No, not me – another Immortal. And I think I know which one."

O'Neill asked, "There's more than one? Here? On Earth?"

From the doorway, Nick said, "I think it's time you went home, Jonathan."

O'Neill's reaction was instant. "Wait!" Before Jonathan could stop him, the gun flew out of his hand. The telekinetic effort left Nick sagging against the doorjamb. Alex and Jonathan went to support him while Rachel checked him out. "I told you to stay put," she admonished him. Jonathan held Nick's head and looked into his eyes. "Nick? Nick, come on, come on, are you in there?"

He probed Nick's mind gently and found it in a much more fragile state than earlier.

Nick tried to hold his head up on his own. He rasped, "…tried…tried to hold on…couldn't…can't…."

Alex asked, "Nick, what does she want?"

Nick said to Jonathan, "She said 'take me home.' I don't know…."

"It's okay, Nick. We'll figure it out." Together they took him back to his room where Alex promised to stay with him through the night.

Rachel quietly objected, "He cannot travel like this, Jonathan."

O'Neill countered, "If we don't find a way to separate her from him, your little buddy's gonna up and die on ya, doc."

"Jack's right. She's going to be the death of him if we don't find a way out for her."

"Why doesn't she just leave him on her own?" Rachel demanded.

"I don't know, Rachel," Jonathan answer curtly.

"She doesn't realise she's killing him," O'Neill suggested. He paused awkwardly as they waited for him to explain. "Right now she's like a schitzophrenic who's convinced she's only one person instead of two. You have these thoughts but it never occurs to you that they're someone else's. She thinks she's Nick Boyle and he can't convince her otherwise. She thinks she's talking to herself, for cryin' out loud."

"How did you convince her?" Jonathan asked.

O'Neill hesitated. "I had a little help."

"From?" Rachel pressed him impatiently.

"An old friend." O'Neill reminded Jonathan pointedly, "Daniel Jackson."

Morning dawned. "Home!" Jonathan exclaimed. He turned to Alex, "Is Phillip still in Ireland with the Jesuits?" She nodded. "Good. Call him, tell him we're coming."

Back to Ireland. He didn't think he'd ever be going back home. There had been nothing for him there even in his lifetime, except maybe his sister but Kelly had her own family and Jonathan had no desire to stick around watching her grow old and eventually die. Definitely not his thing. Rachel ordered the chopper prepped and Jonathan directed O'Neill to pilot it to the airstrip where the Luna Foundation hangered its private jet. That jet currently flew over the North Atlantic with three passengers as Jonathan looked down at the cloud deck. Rachel had adminstered a sedative before take off and Jonathan had strapped Nick in for his own protection. O'Neill sat in the seat facing Jonathan's.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"That I've been avoiding going back even though it probably would've been the fastest way to find my mother again. The Calling is mindfuck enough. Whenever I appear someplace, I'm not quite sure if it's the same place it was before or if the people are the same people. I can handle that but I couldn't face going 'home' and finding it not the same place I left. Not that I was all that attached to the version of it I left behind in the first go round, mind you." He shifted uncomfortably. "After I left the Legacy to search for her, I caught a video clip, an interview with my father. My father who died before I was even born and he looked so old, older than any of the pictures of him I'd ever seen. Then I realise, he's so old because he's still alive. He has a wife, children, his mates but he's never heard of my mother and he wouldn't know me from Adam. He's a hometown hero or pain in the arse depending on which pub you're in when you pose the question." Jonathan laughed as his tears started to fall. "It's a big cosmic joke is what it is."

"So why're we going?"

"There's a monastary in the south. Mount Melleray. It's in the foothills of the Knockmealdown mountains. The Abbot there is a sort of 'friend of the family' if you will. My sister told me that our mother went there once. She had become unbalanced or something and went there to get better. I went there after my sister got married and stayed a couple of years, working and just bein' handy 'round the place. Abbe was a good teacher, helped me understand some things, helped me unlearn some things that my mother couldn't quite reach me on."

"Sounds like a smart guy. He the immortal you mentioned?"

"Yeah, he was a close friend of her father's."

O'Neill's eyebrow shot up. "Peter or Paul?"

Jonathan almost laughed. "Judas, actually."

O'Neill looked doubtful and muttered to himself, "Okay-sure-ya-betcha."

Eire. The Emerald Isle. Home of the ancient Tuath de Danann. A patient soul, coloured blue-and-rain, waited in the foothills of the Knockmealdown Mountains. It sensed the Return of its Soul Mate.

Over the millenia, this isle had grown into a way station both cosmic and geographical, a nexus of immigrants and emigrants in the great flow of humanity: sanctuary to some, exile to others, paradise lost for generations upon generations. In the heart of this place, The Abbot knelt at his morning prayers, deep in meditation. In the local time-space of this ancient landscape, his subconscious felt a soul gathering. This stirring soul, married in the heart of darkness and through luminous times to another of which it had become enamored, augured the arrival of a fellow immortal. He extended his awareness through all dimensions searching for her, but did not find her. Perplexed, The Abbot contemplated this paradox : how this human soul could detect the arrival of one he himself should have already sensed, yet did not. Knowing that time reveals all, or naught, he ended his morning prayers and continued the rituals of his earthly days.

When Jonathan described the lay of the landscape of the journey ahead of them and suggested they walk the last leg into the mountains, O'Neill observed it might be difficult to carry Nick in his unconscious state. Father Phillip Callahan, former member of The Legacy, met them at Shannon airport with a rented vehicle; they would drive to County Waterford to give Nick time to recover from the tranquilizers. Two days later, they arrived in the village of Lismore and stayed the night with acquaintences who did remember Jonathan from his years in the area. After a good night's sleep but still pale, Nick felt strong enough to hold his own on the short hike into the foothills. Jonathan led, O'Neill brought up the rear, remarking, "It really does look like the Travel Channel."

Nick tried not to think about his first, and until now, only trip to Ireland. He, Derek and Julia had come chasing an artifact, the last of five sepulchers sought by Derek's father. It led them to Rachel, but not before taking Julia's life. They say time heals all wounds, but Nick would always hold Derek responsible to some degree for Julia's death because of his obsessive drive to complete his father's life work. Nick also accepted, however, that if Winston Rayne had not been so obsessed, Derek might not have joined The Legacy and he would never have recruited Nick, or Julia for that matter, to the Legacy and Nick would never have known, let alone loved, Julia. Sensing the weight on Nick, Phillip asked quietly, "You all right?" Nick waved him on.

Abbe intoned, "The Prodigal Son, etc, etc. Jonathan, my boy, what brings you home? And these that travel with you?"

"It's my mother. She's gone and done something reckless."

The old abbot laughed heartily. "When has she ever not?"

"This is serious, Abbe. This man, Nick Boyle, carries her within him and, well..."

"We need to get her out. Jack O'Neill. Nice to meet ya."

"O'Neill. And whereabouts would your people hail from?"

"Minnesota."

"I see. And you, Nick Boyle-"

"California."

"Ah, Americans. I haven't had this much excitement since my gall bladder surgery. Come in, come in. And you are-?"

"Father Phillip Callahan, Belfast."

"Ah, not a proper Irishman amoung us," he cackled as he led the way inside the monastery.

Knowing he'd probably not get a straight answer from the old coot, Jack asked anyway. "So where would you be from then?"

"Camelot, of course," as he climbed the slope to the abbey.

Jonathan did his best to hide his embarrassment. Jack asked him, "How'd you meet this 'Yoda' type again?"

"I was the handyman here for several years after I left Northern Ireland. He's usually not this jolly."

Nick murmured, "Must be off his meds."

They joined the brethren for the evening meal then retired to the Abbott's office afterward.

"So how do you know his mother?" O'Neill asks the Abbott.

Abbe sighed heavily. "I've known her since she was a child. Her father and I were...comrades. After he...died, I promised to watch over her. She comes here from time to time when in need of guidance. Now then, how is it she ended up within you, Mr. Boyle? Hmm?"

Nick reluctantly recounts the story from the time Ville arrived at Angel Island to the battle at the Portal.

Philip added, "Nick will die if we don't find a way to get her out of him."

Abbe advised them all, "You will have to build a bridge - there is a soul here who can assist; the soul of one who loved her before when she dwelt in this land."

"A bridge?" Jonathan asked. "What kind of bridge?"

Abbe indicated Nick, "From," then indicated O'Neill, "to. This third presence will entice her across then assist O'Neill with drawing her back into the world."

"Joy," O'Neill commented wryly.

Jonathan reached over, "Colonel. Obviously you don't have to do this...but, she's my mother and I've come so far to find her. Please help."

"What makes you think I can do this?" O'Neill asks the old man.

Abbe says knowingly, "Your genetic anomaly creates a unusual neurochemistry. I sense this is not the first time you've carried her before. This will not take nearly as long, I am sure. Shall we begin?"

Jonathan leaned over to Nick, "You have to be willing to let her go. Please don't fight this, Nick." Nick said nothing.

O'Neill relaxed and concentrated on freeing up his consciousness. He felt this 'third presence' insinuate himself seamlessly into O'Neill's mind. The Colonel waited on the sidelines and observed.

'Don't lie. Don't die'

The whisper from the dark shocked her system/ Her hands stretched away above her head/ Poked, prodded, twisting to and fro/ Like an animal on the auction block/ Or the killing floor.

'Connect. Proctect.'

Another shot…

'And Angel was overcome.'

One live Bullet, one sinner-saint

'Connect-Protect.'

His heart she could feel "Beating. Beating. Oh my love"

'Thy Will be done.'

Jack nearly fell off the floor when he felt her come aware. 'Whoa, easy. Take it easy now,' he thought.

'Do I know you? Have I been here before?' Demanding.

"Yes," he said aloud.

'This is a dream, right?'

"No," he said evenly, trying to stay focused on a single leaf in a hurricane.

'Did I come here on my own?'

The gale dropped to a breathless breeze. "You needed a little help; I'm just here to help you." Silence. He waivered between relief and concern.

'oh. I see.'

The last time Jack went through this, Daniel likened it to giving birth. This time, after the initial explosive decompression, was going rather more smoothly. The 'mid-wife', true to his word, departed willingly when he was no longer needed. Their combined presence he had felt – made him terribly, terribly small. Jack painfully witnessed the enduring bond between these two souls, briefly reunited and torn asunder again in the storm. 'Disaster was the only thing I could depend on,' she whispered. Now he was alone with her again, not a child this time, but a strong young woman in full bloom. He wedged himself against the wall and tried to recall all the kel-no-riem Teal'c had taught him.

When next he opened his eyes, she sat hunched up against his chest, resting quietly. Smelling the fresh scent of her hair, he knew she was really here this time. Seeing her face startled him none the less. "How old are you?" he started to ask, realising what a foolish question that was. She looked no more than nineteen. He wasn't so sure he was awake anymore. She stared placidly up at him, unnaturally serious. "You okay?" he asked softly. After a long moment, she nodded once. He took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the wall, willing his heartbeat to slow. "Maybe we should get you something," he glanced down; she was wearing a white tunic, "to wear." She continued to show absolutely no emotion whatsoever. O'Neill was good with kids, but this was downright spooky. They continued to sit quietly.

In the next cell, Jonathan sat with Nick. Nick still shook although he tried very hard to hide it. An occasional tear slipped down his face but he made no effect to brush them away. He breathed deeply and regularly. Jonathan held his hand, wishing him strength. When at last, Nick closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness, Jonathan checked the rest of his vitals. Nick was finally resting.

Stepping into the passage, he found Abbe and Phillip waiting. "Your friend is strong. I sense he will recover," Abbe reassured them.

"Yes, he will," Jonathan answered. "I intend to make sure of it."

Abbe smiled. "You sound like your mother."

"Is she with the Colonel?"

"See for yourself."

Jonathan entered their cell. He looked upon her in amazement. O'Neill held his hand up and said quietly but emphatically, "This was not my idea."

"All things are relative," Abbe murmered. Jonathan shook his head. "The cosmos is still having a joke on me – my mother is younger than I am." She stared calmly up at him. She seemed preternaturally still, within and without.

Next Ville regarded the Abbot and wordlessly they relived this conversation :

"Ah, I thought I felt you re-enter the world," the elder Abbott greeted her in his chapel.

Ville nodded respectfully. "So many worlds and I always find you here in this place."

"Why should I want to be anywhere else?"

Ville paused at a station of the cross and looked up toward the small alter. "Judas."

The old man chuckled dryly. "You claim to not hold me responsible for your father's death and yet you can never resist teasing me with that name. Magdalene."

"No, I know it's not your fault, that you tried to talk him out of it."

"As did you. Equally unsuccessfully," the abbott reiterated for the thousandth time. Maybe one thousand and one. "I would prefer you do me the courtesy of my chosen name if nothing else, child."

"Padraic." She allowed a smile to reach her eyes.

Slowly he turned to squint in her direction. "Still a young upstart despite your years, I see."

"I think you must have me confused with one of my younger sisters."

"One of the twins? I most certainly have not!" he barked. His laugh turned into a cough.

Her brow furrowed, "Are you not well?"

"Of course I'm well; this is merely affectation. Some of the brothers who have been here many years expect to see their 'old abbott' age somewhat. You know how t'is. Or do you always abandon those who would be close to you while still in their prime?" he cackled.

"You know very well I have little to say about it," she rejoined irritably. "Just the once that you know of."

"Ah, yes, what has become of your spouse, that modern Irish bard?"

"He passed away after many long years. Long enough to see the grandchildren he always wanted." Ville sighed and paced a little. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"He cared for you a great deal I gathered though I only met him the one time."

"Yes, he did."

"And your children? What of that son of yours?"

Ville answered, "At the moment, I don't know. We seem to have gotten separated. That's partly why I came…."

"You thought he might come back here?"

"It is one of the few places we have in commo, but he's not here obviously." She sat on a wooden pew in the empty chapel.

"And the other reason?" Padraic asked patiently.

Ville thought for a little while. "A vain attempt at resisting fate, I suppose."

The abbott waggled his finger at her. "It doesn't do to struggle against the inevitable too much."

"Too much?" Ville laughed then turned serious. "Do you ever feel trapped? Have you ever considered, I don't know, going home?"

The abbott considered this. "What is home?" he finally asked.

"The star we came from?" Ville ventured.

"Humph. You think you know where that is? Is that your… 'home'?" Padraic lowered himself gingerly beside her. She guided and supported him by the arms.

"It's where the other twin is; I'm pretty sure I still remember the way there. What are you getting at, old man?"

He looked her directly in the eye and spoke silently. 'If that is home for you, why do you stay here? Loyalty to your father?'

'It's no secret I'm…disappointed….'

"Disappointed? Ha! You used to be downright hostile!"

She continued out loud, "…my father's sacrifice has been twisted and wielded throughout history to justify some of the most inhuman activities on the planet, and yet I have spent most of my life on this earth."

"You're stuck in a rut? This is your justification?" He waved her words away. "You think you know your history, pah! What do you teach your son?"

"That we started as energy, evolved consciousness and the ability to manifest ourselves as matter to make contact with other conscious life? That history, you mean?"

Old Padraic closed his eyes so long, Ville thought he had fallen asleep. Slowly he began shaking his head slightly. He sighed. "What is it?" Ville asked him.

"You are younger than you know. You and your sisters," Padraic whispered and fell silent again. The sun slipped under the horizon and the shadows lengthened before either of them spoke again.

Ville the White rose effortlessly. "It is time we finished this lesson, Padraic."

Abbe nodded. "Yes. Come, it is time for the evening meal. I'm sure this young man is famished after his ordeal."

O'Neill realised he was the 'young man' being referred to and asked, "Got any cake?"

"What about Nick?" Jonathan asked.

Ville and Abbe shared a look, then Ville reflected, "He lives in the here and now. This does not concern him."

Jonathan started to protest. Ville added, "He is not interested in the distant past."

"And I am?" O'Neill asked innocently.

The Abbot assured him, "You know your part in this, Colonel."

O'Neill shook his head, "Crap. I was afraid you were going say that."

"I will hear this now, Padraic," Ville insisted.

"A few million years ago, a great civilisation thrived on this planet – an outpost of a galactic species. A suite of calamities disrupted the Ancients' stewardship of the planet."

O'Neill did his best not to react to the name.

"In the first, some inadvertantly brought back a plague to this planet. The Ancients' population was decimated, both on this planet and elsewhere in this galaxy. Distantly flung outposts began to lose contact with one another. Things became chaotic. Amoung the Ancients on this planet, there were schisms. Some wished to flee and removed their capitol to another galaxy to start over. Others left via the means with which you all know now as the Stargate. Others, who were dying or carriers of the plague, struggled to perfect the art of ascension. Some of the more primitive Earth species became immune to the disease; their genetic structure mutated, adapting to the virus while other, less robust species died off completely.

"As the millenia passed, some of us felt an obligation to the remaining intelligent species on the earth, to help them evolve and grow. We considered them distant cousins, if you will, including the ancestor species that lead to the proto-hominids. We saw the great potential in these creatures and chose to continue as stewards, but less intrusively as there were now fewer of us. We withdrew to a neighboring planet – the one later called Mars.

"The next calamity to befall this star system was a chain of cosmic impacts. Some caused great extinctions on the Earth. Mars' crust was displaced by one of these and had to be abandoned. Another schism developed amoung the survivors about whether to stay or where we should go next. Some felt it was time to abandon the Earth to its own fate. Others felt we still owed the Earth a debt because of the plague we had visited upon it. In Genesis, there is a story about angels marrying the daughters of man. Those who intermarried allowed their genes to become part of the chain of life. This is the thing you all have in common."

Jonathan looked at O'Neill, then his mother. Ville blanched. "But my sisters..."

"Your father was forced into exile here as his punishment for creating the three of you."

"He spoke so highly of humans so often...I assumed he was here by choice. Then what happened in Jerusalem..."

"The others would not intervene to save him, although I appealed to them. Since they would not, I begged him to let me help him ascend upon the moment of his physical death but he chose otherwise. This is why we fought before his execution and why you think I betrayed him."

"'He chose'? You both lied to me. All of my life."

"You are what you are. Your father and I could not change that. The Ascended could not change it. Your father's teachings amoung the humans were meant to atone for his sins and to keep his offspring pure at heart."

O'Neill offered quietly, "Daniel says these Others have Rules. I guess they take them pretty seriously."

The Abbot nodded. Ville slammed both her hands onto the table, her seat flew out from under her as she turned away. "Whoa!" O'Neill went to her. "Hey, come on, now, don't do this." She turned to him, "Jack, don't you realise what this means?"

Jonathan pulled his hand through his hair. To Abbe, he said, "So Nick was right? She's a djinn for the human race?" The Abbott shook his head.

O'Neill said slowly, "The next step in human evolution. She's been chasing after it her whole life. She was the next step in our evolution." He turned to the Abbott, "Why didn't you just tell her for cryin' out loud?"

The Abbot quoted, "The Kingdom of God is within you. He who has ears, let him hear." He rose and exited the room to perform evening mass.

"Jack, I'm so sorry," she wept.

"Hey, take it easy."

"No, you don't understand. You were right!"

Confused, O'Neill echoed, "I was? Okay. Uhm, right about what?"

"I could've saved Daniel. I could've saved them all." She turned to look at her son. "Your father..., oh, god!" She tried to collapse.

"Stop it," O'Neill ordered. "Daniel asked you to let him go. I was wrong to blame you. I'm the one that should be sorry."

Jonathan said nothing. He felt like he'd been hit with a ton of bricks. O'Neill sat her down, crossed the room, took Jonathan's arm and pulled him outside and down the hall away from her. Facing the young man, O'Neill held up his hand. "Look, I don't know what she meant by all that in there and I can you see you're feeling some things right now that you'd really like to discuss further with her but you brought me here to help her and I don't need you unloading a lot of old emotional baggage on her right now. She needs time to get her 'corporeal legs' under her."

Ashen, Jonathan nodded dumbly. O'Neill sighed in relief. "Okay. So what was the deal with your father, how did he die, why would she feel guilty about that?"

Jonathan swallowed hard and answered tersely, "He shot himself. Right in front of her."

O'Neill placed his hands on Jonathan's shoulders. "Oh, god. I'm sorry," his voice deepened with empathy, "I know what that's like. I have to ask; did you ever blame her?"

"I confronted her about it once, asked her if she hadn't seen it coming, but no, I don't blame her."

"You blame him." Jonathan nodded. Patting him, O'Neill asked, "You okay?

"Yes, sir. I'll watch myself."

"Good man."

Back in Ville's cell, O'Neill sat nearby and waited uncomfortably while she lay on her mat facing the wall, still sobbing. When he couldn't take it anymore, he sat beside her and laid his hand on her arm although she was already aware of his presence. After a while, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, not speaking out loud.

'My life has been a lie.'

'Oh, come on. That's a bit mellow dramatic, dontcha think?'

'My father programmed me like a machine.'

'He's your dad. That's what dads do. They usually don't even know they're doing it. At least yours had good intentions.'

She looked at O'Neill miserably for several seconds. "I've been such a complete fool, Jack. I never even suspected."

"So...you're not as smart as you thought you were." He shrugged, "You're still way smarter than me," he joked.

Her laugh was bitter. "That must be why I never encountered the Stargate before – he didn't want me to know about it, about any of it. You know, while I had access to the Goa'uld's genetic memory, there were things that seemed familiar..." She was pushing her feelings about her father away but O'Neill let her do it. "I don't think they ever encountered the Ancients directly, only the technology and artifacts left behind. Ra must have arrived after the plague on Earth and been gone by the time the survivers came back. I have to go back to the SGC with you, Jack. You're going to need me. If there are any more survivors of the Ancients in this galaxy, maybe I can find them or make contact with the Ascended; try to convince them to help us fight the Goa'uld."

"What about Jonathan?" O'Neill asked quietly.

"We found each other. I know he's alright; he knows I'm alright. I think he's proven he doesn't really need me anymore." She took some breaths. "I should talk to Nick; thank him for what he did. I think he needs to hear what I have to say."

"Well, you don't have to mend all your fences in one day. Take it easy, get some more rest. You want me to bring you something to eat?"

She let her head fall to the side to see him. "I'm not hungry; you go ahead," she smiled wanely, "Maybe they have cake." O'Neill returned her smile and ruffled her hair, "That's my girl. Goodnight."

"I wanted to help her, Phil. I couldn't just let her go. Not like that." Nick shook his head, "I couldn't pull it off. Couldn't save her."

"You did help save her, Nick. She's here; she's whole again. Because of you. Would you like to see her?"

He just murmured, "I don't know. I don't know."

Phillip took up the water basin and exited Nick's cell. Jonathan walked him to the well outside to draw more water. "How is he?"

"He's getting stronger physically but I'm worried about him. His soul is sick over her. He loves Ville very much; he always has. He knows he's going to lose her again."

Jonathan shook his head, "I don't get it. Did he really think he would be able to contain her for the rest of his life? Is that what he really wanted for her?"

"I think he imagined she was tired of the Callings, of a lifetime of being forced to eventually abandon the people she cares about. He wanted her in his life, yes, but he wanted to save her because he thought she was throwing everything away, just giving up. He has been through that before with her."

"She knows she needs to speak to him. Do you think he's up to that?"

"Aye. She'll break his heart though."