TITLE: To Live Again
AUTHOR: Ynette
DATE: April 21, 2002
CATEGORY: AU, Action-Adventure, Drama
SPOILERS: There are a bunch of little ones. Familiarity with The Curse, Thor's Chariot and Secrets will help.
SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: This story is AU, but it takes off from Season 4
RATING: I rated this R, mainly for violence and language.
STATUS: Complete. It will be posted in parts.
SUMMARY: Tragedy befalls SG-1, leading a member to resign from the SGC. Can a mission gone wrong a year later bring them back together?
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Stargate story, so I'm a complete novice when it comes to this stuff. Many thanks go to my beta, Katherine, for doing such an amazing job of editing this story. It ended up so much better after she got her hands on it.
To Live Again
Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities have crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day.
You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit
To be encumbered with your old nonsense."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Part I: The Past Dictates the Future
Jack O'Neill was not a happy man.
He sighed heavily and shifted his weight for what seemed like the one- hundredth time in the past hour. It was amazing to him just how many twinges he could get in his worn knees from simply standing. He supposed that they wouldn't be complaining quite as much if he'd only stop fidgeting or sit down, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he stood beside what looked like a giant oak tree with bright, red leaves and purple fruit and shifted from foot to foot, trying to keep from tearing the leaves off the branches he could reach. He didn't think that the locals, if there were any, would take kindly to him defacing one of their trees. Not that he'd care either way. A tree was a tree was a tree, no matter where it was or what it was used for. Jack glanced up at the bluish sky of PTX-612 and squinted at the brightness of the suns. With renewed impatience, he took his sunglasses out of a vest pocket and quickly put them on. He sighed once again and then directed his gaze away from the sky and towards the source of his annoyance.
He unconsciously tightened the grip on his MP-5, though he knew that it wouldn't do him any good and would not get the younger man working any faster. Jack supposed that he could shoot the man, though that wouldn't necessarily guarantee that the job would get done.
"Hey, Carter, do you think if I shoot at the ground beside him, he'd be inclined to work a little faster?"
Major Samantha Carter, who sat on a rock beside the colonel, glanced up at the sound of his voice. She regarded him seriously for a moment, and then shrugged and played along.
"What if you accidentally hit him, Sir? We'd have to go back to Earth to get another one."
"Hmm, you do have a point, Major. Besides, it'd be way too bloody. I don't want to have to stay behind in this heat and clean up the mess," he added, a slight smile curving his lips.
The desire to shoot the man was almost overwhelming, however. Not because Jack particularly wanted him dead, but simply because it would get things moving and give him something to do. If there was anything he hated, it was boredom. He liked having something to keep his mind occupied at all times. Unfortunately for him, a lot of these missions required a lot of patience, a lot of waiting for someone else to do their job. Lately, SG-1 had been doing a lot of waiting for the man in question now to do his job.
'If only we could take his head apart, download all the necessary knowledge into his brain and put him back together', Jack thought, his eyes narrowing at the image his all too vivid imagination provided for him. 'There would be no more waiting, no more boredom. And there would definitely be no more insects trying to crawl up my leg'. Jack grimaced as he brushed his pant leg, dislodging the insect. Satisfied that he wasn't going to become lunch to the native insect population, Jack returned his attention to the younger man.
"How much longer is this going to take?"
Sam turned away from Jack and glanced at the younger man just in time to see the man's shoulders tense at Jack's question.
"I don't know, sir," the man replied immediately, without turning to face his commanding officer. His voice was slightly distracted, giving no indication that Jack had either startled or annoyed him by his questioning. "I'm having some difficulties translating the glyphs, but it shouldn't take too much longer."
Jack rolled his eyes, because he knew that the man couldn't see him. He sighed and shifted his weight once again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carter turn give him a slightly amused glance, but he ignored her. Instead, he concentrated on a point on the back of the linguist's head.
"That's what you said an hour ago, Captain Michaels," Jack pointed out, trying to disguise his impatience. "In the mean time, the suns keep getting hotter and the bugs keep getting way more eager to have a taste of us. I don't know about you, but I would like to go back to Earth with an intact supply of blood."
For the past four hours, SG-1 had been patiently waiting for the captain to either tell them that the temple they stood in front of was safe or that they needed to go back to Earth to come up with an alternate plan. The MALP readings they had received of the planet had shown them the temple and several other surrounding structures. Mineral readings showed an ample supply of naquadah in the area. That, more than anything, had prompted General Hammond to authorize a mission to this planet. Since the naquadah deposits seemed to be directly underneath the temple they now stood before, it was imperative that they enter and study it further. However, Jack did not want to risk the lives of his team unless he was absolutely sure that there was no immediate danger to them in the temple.
Jack sighed once again as he ran a hand through his hair. 'Daniel would have already translated the whole damn thing,' Jack thought uncharitably. 'Yeah, but Daniel isn't here. He decided that he had better things to do with his time.'
The bitter thought followed of its own accord, making Jack wince at the strength of it.
"Get to it, Captain. We don't have all day," Jack stated. He kept his voice as neutral and non-confrontational as he could, knowing that his anger wasn't really directed at the man who stood in front of him, but at another linguist, no longer a member of SG-1.
"O'Neill, are you angry at Captain Michaels?" Teal'c asked. When Jack turned to regard the Jaffa, he saw Teal'c raise an eyebrow and study him carefully. "It is not his fault that Daniel Jackson is no longer with us," Teal'c added.
Jack's head snapped up at the comment. Once his angry, brown eyes met Tealc's honest ones, however, the anger he felt in his gut sparked, then slowly sizzled away until it only existed as a pale afterthought at the back of his mind.
"If that were Daniel standing there, trying to translate that writing, I'd still be yelling at him to hurry up," Jack commented, his voice dull and flat, but soft so that Michaels couldn't overhear him. "That's not what this is about, Teal'c."
"Indeed?" Teal'c made the word a question, making Jack suddenly feel defensive.
"No, it isn't, Teal'c. Not everything is about Daniel. I just want to get the hell out of these suns," Jack said.
Without another word, Jack turned away from Teal'c and walked away from his teammates, leaving Sam and Teal'c staring after him, similar expressions of worry on their faces.
****
Teal'c observed as O'Neill walked away from them, his eyebrow rising quizzically. He wondered why the Tau'ri were so intent on lying to themselves about what was obvious to everyone else. He had heard O'Neill's explanation about his annoyance with Captain Michaels, but knew that the man was not being entirely truthful.
He was well aware of just how much Daniel Jackson's departure from SG-1 had affected O'Neill. Teal'c had been around during the mission that brought their team to its knees and had seen what it had done to O'Neill and Daniel Jackson individually as well as to the friendship and trust that they had shared. For months following the archaeologist's departure, Teal'c had observed as O'Neill closed himself off from the rest of them, insisting that everything was normal. Neither he nor Major Carter had believed it for a minute, but there had been nothing that they could do.
That sentiment applied to their current predicament as well, because Teal'c was aware that O'Neill's annoyance at Captain Michaels had a lot more to do with Daniel Jackson
than O'Neill would admit to. However, Teal'c could not get O'Neill to talk about the events leading to Daniel Jackson's absence from the team and how much his absence still affected him. He had tried very hard over the last year, to no avail. If O'Neill didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to.
"He still deceives himself about his feelings surrounding Daniel Jackson's departure," Teal'c intoned quietly to his team mate.
"Yes, he does," Sam replied, still gazing at where the colonel now stood by another large tree. "He's stubborn, he won't tell us that it's bothering him."
"Just as we do not speak of how it has bothered us?" Teal'c made the statement a question, glad for the opportunity to address the subject with his team mate.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, something like that. I still have a hard time believing it. Sometimes, it's almost like Daniel is just on vacation and is going to come back at any time. Is that silly or what?"
"It is not silly, Major Carter. Sometimes, I too, feel like Daniel Jackson will be returning. But I do not believe that will be the case. The circumstances under which he departed leave very little hope for his return."
"I know, Teal'c. It was just another mission to us all. We left Earth expecting to come back the same as when we'd left. I don't think either one of us imagined how much things would be different once we returned." Sam paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I can still remember the bloody faces of the innocent natives as they tried to understand what was happening. The smell of the charred bodies is something that I'm never going to forget, along with that haunted, guilty look in Daniel's eyes."
Teal'c inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the words. "He took it very hard. No matter how much we attempted to make him understand that there was nothing he could have done to prevent what happened, he would not listen."
Sam laughed, but it was a short, bitter thing. "He's stubborn too, just like the colonel. It's no wonder those two parted on such bad terms."
"Daniel Jackson did not have to leave the SGC. He could have chosen to stay and attempt to rectify what had happened," Teal'c said.
"He didn't have to leave, but I think he felt like he did. He felt such guilt…" Sam trailed off, before gathering her thoughts again and regarding Teal'c. "I went to see him in his office right after we got back. He was so upset. I don't think I've ever seen him like that. When I left I heard him crying and I don't think that I'll ever be able to forget the sound of those broken sobs."
"I attempted to speak to him as well, but he turned me away. I could not understand why. However, I believe that it was harder for O'Neill, because he and Daniel Jackson have always been able to speak about such things. I do not think O'Neill appreciated being set aside."
Teal'c glanced at O'Neill, who was now watching them. Teal'c inclined his head respectfully and saw the colonel begin to walk towards them. "We must get O'Neill to talk about what happened, Major Carter. If not, I am afraid that we will never have a permanent archaeologist on the team."
****
Jason Michaels sighed in frustration when he heard his CO's command to hurry up. Translating wasn't exactly a piece of cake and it took time, but Jack O'Neill didn't seem to understand that. It wasn't that Jason didn't know what he was doing. It just took him a bit longer to translate a language that he wasn't very familiar with. The frustration turned quickly to anger as he heard Teal'c mention the name of SG-1's first archaeologist.
Michaels had heard stories about what had happened to make Dr. Jackson resign, but he didn't know anything concrete. He'd only been at Cheyenne Mountain four months and had not had the opportunity to read through SG-1's mission reports. He had intended to do it immediately after his assignment to SG-1, but his need to familiarize himself with the ancient cultures he would now be studying had won out, leaving the reports on the back burner. The stories he had heard from soldiers and scientists alike, however, had intrigued him. Each group had their own opinions about what had driven Dr. Jackson out of the SGC, but Michaels had some trouble believing the differing accounts he had heard. He wouldn't believe anything until he got around to reading the official report, or heard it from a member of SG-1.
Michaels knew of Dr. Jackson and of what he had discovered while at the SGC, but had never met him. He had also learned through the grapevine that the good doctor's departure was the result of a mission gone horribly wrong. Apparently, Dr. Jackson had been somehow responsible for the deaths of hundreds of the peaceful inhabitants of PJ7-564. In addition to the civilian deaths, Colonel O'Neill had been seriously injured as a result of that mission, nearly killed, if he could believe the gossip he'd been hearing. The remaining members of SG-1 refused to talk about the failed mission, so Jason couldn't get any information that way. They would only speak of Daniel Jackson when they were alone, which eliminated any chance of him overhearing something. Jason didn't understand why all the secrecy was necessary, but he was determined to find out just what had happened on PJ7-564.
For now, however, he had a translation to finish.
He looked back at the Egyptian hieroglyphs and scratched his head thoughtfully. His green eyes narrowed as he read the part of the wall that he'd already translated, which suddenly ended in a flurry of symbols and greatly differentiated from the writing beside it. Michaels couldn't understand how the writing on the wall became so confusing so suddenly. It was almost as if another language had been used along with the Egyptian he was reading. That couldn't be the case, however, since the glyphs looked similar. What he had managed to translate seemed to be a welcome message, which was a good sign. He was glad that he was going to have good news for his commanding officer once he finished the translation. He hoped to, at least.
Jason stepped up to the wall and ran his fingers over the stubborn glyphs. He was a good linguist, which was why he'd been assigned to SG-1 in the first place. However, he had no letters after his name nor had he ever aspired to any. He had always wanted to be in the Air Force and nothing else had mattered. He had attended the Air Force Academy right after high school and had received a degree in Linguistics, which he'd used on several missions. He spoke eleven languages, and had been invaluable to his team during those missions. None of those languages, however, currently included ancient dialects, especially Egyptian hieroglyphs. He had been given an intensive course on ancient cultures and languages when he'd been transferred to Cheyenne Mountain and Michaels had soaked up the knowledge quickly, fascinated by the material. However, it had become painfully clear to him that he was nowhere near as good as Dr. Jackson was. Apparently, no one else had been either, since he was the fifth social scientist to be assigned to SG-1 since Dr. Jackson's resignation. Because of that knowledge, he didn't take it very personally when Colonel O'Neill became annoyed with his slow progress. It hurt not to have the CO's trust and respect, but it wasn't as bad as it could be. The fact remained that being assigned to SG-1 was the best thing that had happened to him in his career, and Jason Michaels was not going to let anyone, or anything, get in his way.
****
"The important thing to remember is that every language has a pattern. Identifying the pattern will help you decipher and master the language you're trying to learn," Dr. Daniel Jackson explained as he pointed to the slide of ancient Greek text that was currently on display in the middle of the lecture hall's rear wall. Daniel glanced at the graduate students who sat throughout the mostly full lecture hall, quietly absorbing every word. Unlike others he had lectured in the past, these kids understood that their grade would ultimately depend on what Daniel said, so they listened carefully and intently.
Daniel took a deep breath and smiled ruefully at the irony of being at the one place he thought he'd never return to. After all, what university could possibly want a crackpot archaeologist/linguist shaping young minds? UCLA apparently did. Daniel had been very surprised when Dr. Richard Morton, the head of the archeology department at UCLA, had contacted him with an offer of a position at the university, teaching a class in linguistic skills as part of a special archaeology doctorate geared towards the best and brightest students. The class was officially part of the archaeology department, even though it dealt entirely with languages. It also happened to be a very specialized class that was only offered in very few universities. UCLA had lost the professor who had previously held the position to an unforeseen illness and desperately needed a replacement. There didn't seem to be very many linguists who were well versed in archaeology, or vise versa, so UCLA had contacted Daniel.
At first, Daniel had refused the offer because he knew where it was coming from. When he'd left the SGC, he had done so because he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. He, the rest of SG-1, and the other innocents involved at the SGC and off-world were better off without him, so he'd packed his things, resigned and walked out without looking back. However, since he had been very brutally laughed out of the academic community six years ago, and had subsequently disappeared since then, he didn't have very many options for employment. He hadn't given a public lecture or written a paper, no matter how ill received it would have been, for so long that the chances of anyone knowing who he was, or that he was actually very good at what he did, were very slim.
When he had received Dr. Morton's letter, Daniel had no doubt of how he'd come to get the offer. General Hammond, for whatever reason, had decided to pull some strings and assist him, which Daniel truly did appreciate. He had not understood why the general would be inclined to do that, after everything he'd done and all of the pain he'd caused, which was why Daniel had rejected the offer at first. Daniel could only imagine how much wrangling the general would have had to do in order to convince anyone that Daniel was not crazy and could be of value, which left him confused. However, as days turned into months, it had become painfully clear that he wasn't in a position to be picky, so he'd finally called Richard Morton and accepted the position. Three days later, he was back in Los Angeles, the site of one of his last, and least well received, lectures before disappearing into the wild blue yonder of other worlds.
Richard Morton had been very polite and to the point, never bringing up Daniel's shaky standing in the archaeological community. It was clear to Daniel that Dr. Morton knew who he was and how others in their field viewed him. However, for once, Morton seemed more interested in what Daniel had actually accomplished, rather than what he hadn't. He'd told Daniel that as long as he taught the classes he was scheduled to teach and stuck to being a linguist, his job was secure. In other words, no spouting about aliens having built the pyramids. Daniel had almost laughed again at the unspoken threat, because he now knew for sure that aliens HAD built the pyramids. But he wasn't about to risk national security to point that out to the man. Daniel had agreed to the terms, and had been on his way towards his second attempt at academia.
The assistant professorship suited Daniel just fine because it was different. There was no archaeology involved, past what he occasionally referred to when he wanted his students to study a particular language. He'd come to the conclusion that being on digs would not have given him much satisfaction after all of the work he'd done at the SGC. After all, what could he possibly find in a dig that he hadn't already uncovered and experienced with SG-1 on any number of worlds?
Teaching had been the perfect choice, but it hadn't been easy. His reputation was still the same as it had been when everyone had walked out of his last, fateful lecture in Los Angeles a mere six years ago. Most of his colleagues at UCLA could not understand why the university would want to have Daniel on staff and they made sure that he knew it. It didn't help that two of his fellow professors were people that he'd worked with, and disagreed with, on research projects before. At first, the insults, whispered conversations and innuendoes had hurt Daniel deeply, since he was already doing a good job of berating himself over the actions that had led him to Los Angeles in the first place. However, after a while, the insults had stopped registering. After all, he had been hurt in much worse ways since he'd last been around academia. He'd seen and experienced things in that time that none of the others could even imagine, which made the insults lose their impact on him.
Daniel quickly learned to distance himself from everyone and everything, concentrating only on showing up every day to teach the six classes he was scheduled for. Nothing else outside of his lectures, grading papers and preparing exams seemed to matter to him. Soon, the rest of the department got the hint and lost interest. Unlike the other members of the department, Daniel did not have a research project to work on. After the cultures and artifacts that he'd seen, there didn't seem to be anything on Earth worth researching. And even if there was, he had neither the funding nor the influence that he'd once had. Not that he was broke. His four years of active duty at the SGC, plus his salary from the original Abydos mission, had left him with a sizable monetary cushion. But it was nowhere near enough to fund a sizeable research project.
Instead, Daniel taught class and did nothing else. He used his archaeology degree as little as possible. After all, he now knew much, much more than the so-called experts he was surrounded by. He couldn't participate in a research project to prove or disprove something that he more than likely had already proven. Besides, it would be too easy to let something slip about what he knew. Not that anyone would take him seriously, but he couldn't take that chance. His theories, which he had now proven, were still held as jokes and ridiculed, and Daniel made no attempt to change that. He was content to live his life, as it were, and let everyone else live theirs.
"Dr. Jackson?"
The question suddenly broke Daniel out of his musings. He quickly looked away from the slide he was still pointing at and turned around, smiling sheepishly at the young lady who had spoken. She, like most of the class, was in her mid twenties, only ten or so years younger than Daniel. His age worked to his advantage in the classes he taught, because his students seemed better able to relate to him than to someone older. He rearranged the glasses on his face and focused on the redheaded woman.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to zone out like that," Daniel said, wondering just how long he'd been out of it. "What was the question?"
She returned his smile. "I wanted to know how you can recognize patterns when you're exposed to a language that you've never seen?"
Daniel's smile widened a bit, grateful that his students were paying attention to him.
"You find patterns. You examine the language, whether it's written or spoken, and try to find similarities, places where it repeats. You then analyze those places and see how they fit in with the rest of the language, how they relate," Daniel raised his index finger in his familiar gesture of concentration as he paced in front of his students, raising his voice so that everyone in the lecture hall could hear him.
"From that, you begin to extrapolate certain words, phrases and concepts," he continued. "After that, and after careful observation, you begin to understand the language in its entirety. No matter what language it is or how difficult it is, the patterns will always be there. Like these," he explained.
He pushed a button on the small remote in his hand and the slide changed to be replaced by a new one.
"This is ancient Egyptian," Daniel said, pointing at the hieroglyphs that graced the new slide. "It hasn't been spoken on Earth for thousands of years, which makes it difficult to recognize," he added. "But if you look closely at the depicted hieroglyphs, you'll see the pattern in this particular sample," he stated and proceeded to go through the text one glyph at a time to show them what he meant.
Daniel neglected to tell them that on Abydos, the language had never died and was spoken to this day and that he could speak it fluently, along with about ten other languages that had never been spoken on Earth. That wasn't important, however. Not now and not ever again.
He continued with his lecture, letting himself forget everything but the stubbornly undead language in front of him.
****
"So what's the verdict, Captain?" Jack O'Neill asked the linguist as he strode up to where the man was standing. He lifted his right hand up to his face to wipe away an annoying bead of sweat that was sliding down his cheek as he regarded the captain. He didn't fail to notice the slight tensing of the younger man's shoulders at the sound of his voice. Did he have that affect on everyone? Jack didn't think so, but Michaels seemed to tense up anytime O'Neill got anywhere close to him.
"We're standing in front of a temple, Colonel," Michaels said confidently, trying to keep his voice level and as unemotional as he could make it, despite the fact that his commanding officer made him a bit nervous. "It appears to be a temple to Seshat, the Egyptian goddess of writing."
Jack raised an inquisitive eyebrow when the captain turned to look at him. "Appears to be?" Jack repeated.
Michaels nodded. "Yes, sir. This symbol here is Seshat's symbol," he said and turned back to the entrance where he pointed to the figure of a seated woman, with what looked like a flower framed by down-turned horns, above her head. "It's what was used by the ancient Egyptians to depict her. However, Seshat had no temples devoted to her back on Earth. At least that's what the mythology states, which is why I say that this appears to be a temple to her," Jason paused and took a breath before continuing. "But just because Seshat had no temples on Earth doesn't mean that there can't be any temples to her here."
Jack nodded, taking in the carefully delivered information the captain had just given. He glanced over the younger man's shoulder and took in the figure Michaels was pointing at. The Captain was career military and was well aware that expediency was the key to a successful mission. Which was why he tended to get to the point very quickly, with very little added information. Jack liked that about the man. However, every now and then, he missed the rambling lectures he used to be given about a variety of subjects. Even though he ignored them half of the time, Jack sometimes found himself wishing that Michaels would slip into lecture mode and go on and on about something or other. That had yet to happen, however.
"What do you know about this She-sat in Egyptian history, Captain?" Jack asked, not even trying to correctly pronounce the goddess's name, as he motioned for Sam and Teal'c to get closer to them and hear what was being said.
Michaels shrugged. "I'm not an Egyptologist, Colonel. What I know of Egyptian history is what I was taught when I joined the SGC, so my knowledge is sketchy at best. But what I do know is that Seshat is a scribe. A scribe's job in ancient Egypt was to witness and record the life and accomplishments of someone of her choosing. Seshat is believed to be the wife of Thoth, who is her male counterpart," Michaels finished and glanced at each of his team members in turn, before finally settling on observing his commanding officer.
"That's it?" Jack asked, somewhat surprised.
Michaels shrugged. "I told you I didn't know much about Egypt."
"Teal'c, have you ever heard of this She-sat?" Jack asked, turning to the Jaffa, hoping that he'd have a little more information to give them.
Teal'c raised an eyebrow as he regarded O'Neill, before answering. "I have not, O'Neill. However, I am aware of some Goa'uld using scribes to record their battles. Apophis had one that traveled with him, but was never seen by anyone but Apophis. I believe that Apophis wanted his scribe to focus only on recording his deeds, therefore he was not allowed to do anything else, or associate with anyone else."
"Then scribes are usually peaceful in nature, right?" Carter asked, glancing at the hieroglyphs on the wall.
Michaels nodded. "They usually are. They are there to witness the events and record them, not to take part in them."
Jack looked behind Michaels to the writings on the temple's doorway that the Captain had been studying. It was a doorway about ten feet tall, completely covered in hieroglyphs and accented in black marble. Some of the writing, Jack noticed, became something else, something that was not hieroglyphic at all. All he could see were what he dubbed chicken scratches. He thought nothing more of them, confident that if they were important, Michaels would have told him.
The structure around the doorway was impressive, but worn. The brownish stones the temple had been constructed of were now decaying, with smaller pieces of stone littering the grown at regular intervals. The temple was tall and wide, not quite a pyramid shape, but very close to it. It was more rectangular, with a spiked center column. The structure was completely surrounded by tall, full trees. It was almost as if the temple were on an island, completely covered by the greenery around it. It was a beautiful and peaceful looking place, but O'Neill was well aware the appearances were more than often deceiving.
"Were you able to decipher the markings?" Sam asked the captain as she, too, finished her examination of the temple.
Michaels shook his head slowly, a frown marring his face. "Not all of them. There seems to be a different form of hieroglyphics, not to mention several other forms of writing that I can't identify, interwoven with the common type and unfortunately, I can't decipher those. However, I have been able to translate some of it." He stepped away from the rest of SG-1 and led them over to the doorway. He pointed to specific rows of hieroglyphs as he spoke.
"This is a message, welcoming visitors to the temple of Seshat. It says that any and all are welcome, as long as they are prepared to share knowledge. It also states that Seshat is a peaceful goddess."
"So if someone erected this temple in her honor, then there should be some villages around here for us to explore, correct? After all, a goddess needs worshipers," Jack stated, glancing towards the thick trees surrounding the temple. "Maybe some people that we can talk to?" he asked, his voice taking on a tone of cautious excitement at finally having something to do.
They had done a search of the area round the Stargate when they'd arrived on PTX-612 half a day ago and had found nothing to indicate villages or any other type of settlement. All they had found was the temple. And since they knew that they had to get into the temple, they'd decided to start there first, before exploring further for signs of inhabitants. Now that Michaels has assured them that the prominent Goa'uld of this planet was a peaceful one, or as peaceful as Goa'uld could be, they could better devote time and effort to carry out a more efficient search.
"If the temple is still used, and I would say that it is by how clean and free of debris the area around the temple is, then there is a possibility that there are villagers here. We'll just have to find them," Captain Michaels stated.
Satisfied with that assessment, Jack O'Neill nodded. "Very well, kids, let's go exploring!"
****
Daniel quickly made his way to his office, wanting to get away from the throng of students that littered the halls of UCLA's Institute of Archaeology. His second class of the day ended at noon, so when he got out of class, he was typically in the middle of the students' rush to get to the student union for lunch before one o'clock came around and it was time for class again.
He carefully balanced his briefcase in one hand, while the other carried several notebooks with his class notes inside and the textbook for his class. The weight of the load in his arms was heavy, but Daniel was used to it. He had spent many, many years in similar halls while he'd been a student, carrying similar loads to and from class. The feeling was eerily comforting to him.
Daniel sidestepped a young man who had his nose buried in a book and headed for the elevator. He stepped inside and punched the button for the fourth floor. Once he exited the elevator, Daniel made his way to the far end of the hall where his small office was. He put his briefcase down and reached into his pocket for his keys, then quickly opened the office door. He turned on the lights and made his way inside, putting the briefcase, his notebooks and textbook on his desk.
He made his way over to the far end of the room, where a filing cabinet stood next to a window. On top of the cabinet, a coffee maker softly gurgled as it brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Daniel smiled as he poured himself a cup. He'd set his coffee maker to turn on a few minutes before the end of his class so that there would be a fresh pot waiting for him during his lunch hour. Not that he ever actually ate lunch. Instead, he munched on whatever he happened to have available on one of his desk drawers, which could turn out to be anything from candy bars to stale crackers.
As he picked up his cup of coffee, something outside of the window caught Daniel's eye. His office faced a small courtyard, which was surrounded by lush trees and contained a fountain in the center of it. Several benches and picnic tables dotted the landscape here and there, giving students a place to go for quiet study. Since it was spring in California, the fountain was turned on and the water bubbled down towards the small pool below. The water was a bright blue, which reflected the sun very nicely. Daniel sighed and stepped away from the window. He sometimes stood by the window and started at the water, finding a little bit of peace. However, he didn't have much time to do it today.
Daniel walked towards his desk and sat down, picking up the manila folder that lay prominently on the desktop. He opened it up and found the midterm he'd been working on inside. He still had to come up with a topic for the essay, but nothing he'd thought up seemed good enough.
"I'll just pick something the day of the midterm," he muttered, chuckling slightly. "That'll surprise all of us."
He reached over to grab his red marker, when his hand brushed the frame of the lone picture to sit on his desk. The frame was precariously balanced along the edge, and Daniel's hand only served to knock it aside and off the desk with a loud crash.
"Oh, damn!" Daniel got up from the chair and went over to pick up the frame. He noticed with a slight wince that the edge was dented. One more dent to add to the few that already adorned it. He picked it up and brought it to his desk, where he sat and stared at the picture.
It was the picture of himself on a camel, in front of the Great Pyramid of Giza. He'd been on a dig in Egypt when it had been taken and he'd carried it with him ever since. Behind that picture, where no one could see it, was the only picture of Sha'uri that he owned. The one that just depicted her smiling face. Daniel undid the clasps on the back of the frame and gingerly took out Sha'uri's picture from behind the other one. He set the frame aside and held the picture of his dead wife. Daniel slowly ran his thumb over Sha'uri's face, as a small, sad smile touched his lips.
The picture of Sha'uri had once had its own frame. After what had happened to the last one, however, he had decided that it was better to keep the picture hidden where it wouldn't bring up questions that couldn't be answered and memories that were better off hidden away.
**~~**
Daniel walked into his office at the SGC and slammed the door shut behind him, rattling a few of the artifacts that hung on the walls. He didn't bother turning on the overhead lights, because his desk lamp was turned on and he could see just fine without them. He headed straight for his desk, intent on picking up one of the cups that sat there and getting some coffee. He reached down and picked up the cup, but instead of taking it over to the coffee maker, Daniel stared at it. After a few moments, he flung it towards the closed door, grinning humorlessly when the porcelain cup shattered on impact.
That felt good.
With shaking hands, Daniel turned back towards his desk and picked up a couple more of the cups that he'd forgotten to take back home and flung those towards the door as well. When that wasn't enough, he picked up a few of the books that littered the desk and threw those as well.
He shook his head, trying desperately to control the need to scream that threatened to overwhelm him. He clasped his hands together, willing them to stop shaking. When that didn't work, he ran his hands through his hair and took several deep breaths, but that wasn't enough to calm the desperation he felt.
"How could I have been so stupid?" Daniel asked himself, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. He paced the length of his darkened office, unwilling to sit still for fear of the demons finally catching up to him. "How could I have been so ignorant? I should have known better! I should have been more thorough in the translation, more careful! But no… I was so sure!" he yelled, his voice getting louder and louder with each word.
A sob escaped Daniel and he immediately clenched his jaw to prevent any more from doing so. He didn't have a right to feel sorry for himself. He didn't have a right to feel sorrow. He simply didn't deserve it.
The rage, however, he deserved. The looks of disappointment and hatred he had gotten from the members of the SG teams that had been involved in the incident and from the scientists that had pointed out the mistake he'd made, those he was entitled to. And there would be no one who could possibly hate him more than himself right now. Suddenly, he walked to stand in front of his desk and with one swift move, knocked everything off of it. He smiled bitterly at the sound of cups breaking, of electronic material shattering and of lives breaking in two.
"Daniel, what are you doing?" he heard someone say from behind him, but he didn't turn around.
He heard the crunch as the person stepped on broken pieces of porcelain as they walked further into his office, but he said nothing. Instead, he sank to his knees beside the desk, in front of where the frame holding his only photograph of Sha'uri lay in shattered pieces.
"Daniel?"
Daniel tried to tune whoever it was out, intent on being miserable in peace, but they didn't go away. Before he knew it, someone was kneeling beside him, a hand rubbing his back comfortingly. Daniel flinched away, knowing that he didn't deserve the comfort either. The hand disappeared, but was replaced by another one, this one on his chin, moving his face to the left so that he could see who the hand belonged to. He was surprised to see Sam kneeling next to him, her expression one of worry and fatigue. He hadn't expected anyone to come see him, not even Sam.
"Daniel, please talk to me. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through and I'll never know unless you tell me. Please," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
He watched her expression for signs of hate and saw none. How could that be? He'd failed Sam as much as he'd failed everyone else, so why wasn't she running away from him? Daniel didn't fail to notice the bandage on Sam's forehead and the accompanying bruises or the sling holding her left arm in place, nor how her eyes were rimmed with red from fatigue and crying. He'd done all that to her.
"There's nothing to talk about," Daniel said softly. He pulled his head away from Sam's hand and watched as it dropped back to her side. "It was my fault. All of it was my fault, Sam. All of those lives lost on the planet…all of the innocents, their lives are in my hands."
He picked up the broken remains of Sha'uri's picture, not feeling when the broken shards of glass dug into his palm, drawing blood.
"It wasn't your fault, Daniel. There was no way you could have known," Sam insisted, her voice as steady as she could make it.
"But there was!" Daniel insisted. He raised his index finger to try to explain to her, but lowered it again when he saw blood running down it and onto his hand. "It was in the writings, Sam. It was all there, I just didn't translate them correctly. It took Dr. Lovell one look at the writings to figure out what had gone wrong, what I had missed. Lovell, for God's sake! The woman is inexperienced and has never been on an SG team. But she figured it out right away."
"It wasn't done on purpose. You didn't mistranslate the writings because you wanted to," Sam said. "You can't beat yourself up over this."
Daniel shook his head, immediately dismissing her words.
"There are hundreds dead on the planet because of my mistake and Jack and Teal'c are close to it in the infirmary. And look at me, hardly a scratch! All I got is this gash that probably won't even leave a scar," Daniel said. The last statement came out broken, as a sob that finally found its way loose. "I should be the one in a coma, Sam, not Jack. Teal'c's symbiote will heal him, but who is going to help Jack?"
"The colonel did what he had to do," Sam insisted. Her gaze never left him, even though he couldn't look at her. "He wanted to protect those people and the rest of his team, and he did that to the best of his ability. We all know the risks when we step through the Stargate, Daniel. Jack and Teal'c understood that. I understand that as well. Now I only hope that you do."
Daniel tore his eyes away from the broken glass on the floor and finally looked at Sam, his gaze steely.
"I know that you understand the risks! In the end, it's what's going to get all of you killed…" Daniel trailed off and looked away from Sam, unable to further meet her gaze. "I can't let you do that anymore, Sam. I can't do that to Jack and Teal'c either. It has to be this way."
"What way, Daniel? What are you saying?" Sam asked, confusion evident in her voice.
"It just has to be this way… now if you could, please leave me alone. I have stuff to do," Daniel said, his voice regaining the harsh tone it had before Sam had entered the office. "Please close the door behind you."
Daniel didn't see as much as hear Sam sigh deeply. She reached out and patted him on the back once more, before leaving the office, closing the door behind her.
Once she was gone, Daniel let his gaze fall back towards the picture of his dead wife. He lifted the photo, cradled it to his chest and finally allowed the sobs to break free.
**~~**
"Dr. Jackson?"
The voice interrupted Daniel's tortured memories like a lightning bolt, sending him reeling. He opened his eyes, which he hadn't realize he'd closed, and quickly lifted his head, while setting Sha'uri's picture aside. He found himself staring at the face of the redheaded student from his eleven o'clock class, the one who had asked him several questions during his lecture.
"I'm very sorry, Dr. Jackson, I didn't mean to interrupt. I know that you don't have office hours right now, but…" She trailed off as she noticed how his blue eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. Maybe it hadn't really been a good idea to come after all. She looked down to his desk and saw the photo of the beautiful woman he'd put aside and she wondered what she had interrupted. "I'll just come back some other time," she said and turned to leave when his voice stopped her.
"No, it's okay," he said, quickly blinking away the tears. "I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"
The young lady smiled shyly and took the chair in front of Daniel's desk. "I'm Alison Marsh, and I'm in your eleven o'clock Linguistics class. I just wanted to come by and ask you a few questions. I know that I should have probably waited until your office hours, but I had some time during lunch," she explained. She glanced at the professor and noticed that his eyes were still directed towards the picture on his desk.
"She's lovely."
The observation caught Daniel off-guard, since he had been listening to what Ms. Marsh was saying, but not looking at her. He smiled slightly as he glanced back up at her. "Yes, she is."
"Who is she?"
Daniel swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "My wife," he answered softly.
Alison's eyes widened. She hadn't realized that Dr. Jackson was married.
"Is she an archaeologist too?" Alison asked, honestly curious about the man who was known throughout UCLA as the loner.
Daniel shook his head. "No, she isn't," he explained. Somehow, 'she's from another planet' wouldn't quite cut it as an explanation, so Daniel decided to tell her what was sure to stop the flow of questions. "She was killed a year and a half ago."
"Oh," Alison said. No wonder he'd been close to tears while looking at the picture. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
Daniel nodded, glad to have stopped that conversation from getting into dangerous ground. "Thank you. Now what can I do for you, Ms. Marsh?" he asked, granting the young lady his full attention.
He knew who she was, because she always made it a point to ask for clarification when needed and wasn't afraid to ask questions or voice her opinion. She wasn't exceptional when it came to languages, but she was intelligent and a hard worker. Her grade in the class so far was average and if he could help her achieve more, he'd be happy to.
"I just wanted to talk to you about today's lecture. I've read through the textbook and there wasn't much material on the origin of languages or on your technique of finding the patterns. I was wondering if there were other books available so that I could read more on the subject," Alison stated. "I'm afraid that I'm having a little trouble recognizing the patterns, especially in ancient Egyptian writings, and I want to make sure that I do everything I can to learn it correctly."
Daniel nodded, impressed with Alison's work ethic. He got up from the desk and walked over to the bookshelf, glad to have a distraction for the demons that kept popping up on him at the most inopportune moments.
"I have several books that I can recommend," he said. "Let me find them."
And Daniel Jackson proceeded to do what he did best: teach.
**~~**
"What a lovely planet we have here," Jack O'Neill quipped as he and the rest of his team made their way through the dense forest in search of any signs of life. "To the right, we have some big trees," he said, extending his arm to the right as if showcasing the trees. He waved his hand up and down along the tree trunk, showing off all of its attributes. "It's big, it's brown, it's sturdy, and it's sure to give you plenty of shade from those two annoying suns shinning in the sky," he pointed out in his best game show host imitation. "To the left, we have some even bigger trees and right in front of us, well what do you know, more trees!"
Sam Carter snickered softly from where she walked a few feet to the colonel's left. She watched his eyebrows move on his face, as if he were pointing out the most important thing in the world. She caught Teal'c raise an eyebrow in amusement, while Captain Michaels just frowned in confusion. She loved being on SG-1, because she knew that no mission would ever be boring as long as Jack O'Neill was around.
"It could be worse, Sir," she pointed out, not yet entirely comfortable in joining her CO in his small rants. However, ever since Daniel had left, there had been no one else to join in, so she'd started doing it. At first, she was afraid of unknowingly stepping over some line and insulting her commanding officer, but Colonel O'Neill had made it clear that he appreciated her involvement in his rants. "We could be stuck in the middle of some mindless game show where the jackpot was all the trees you could ever want."
"Ahh, yes," Jack said, turning to her and giving her a beaming smile. "But at least then, I'd get to say 'I'll take door number three'," Jack pointed out. "And we'd definitely be inside and away from all this sun and these bugs."
They had been walking through the dense forest for three hours without any signs of civilization. The walk was considerable and it made Jack wonder why the inhabitants of this planet would erect a temple to one of their goddesses and place it so far away from them.
"Say, Michaels, don't worshippers usually situate their places of worship where they can be reached in a short amount of time?" Jack asked suddenly, startling the linguist.
Jason turned his head to regard his commanding officer, confusion plain on his face from the quick change of subject.
"Yes, Sir. In most cultures, centers of worship are placed in a central location where they can be easily accessible."
"Why didn't these people?" Sam wondered. "We've been walking through this forest for almost three hours and we've found nothing. If the villagers wanted a centrally located temple, they sure miscalculated where they built the one we just left."
"You have a point, Major," Michaels replied. "I can't explain why we haven't come to any villages yet. Unless we simply walked in the wrong direction and should have headed south instead of north."
"The Stargate is to the south, Captain Michaels," Teal'c pointed out. "We traversed that area when we arrived and did not see any villages."
"That is correct, Teal'c. All I meant was that maybe the villages are in another direction".
"Okay, so then we should do what, head east?" Jack asked, glancing at each team member in turn.
"If Captain Michaels is correct, then we have already traveled too far and will not find any villages here," Teal'c replied. "Heading in a new direction would be the logical choice."
"I agree, Sir. Maybe we'll have better luck somewhere else," Sam added.
"All right, then. East it is," Jack decided and began to walk in that general direction.
****
They had walked through the endless forest for two hours and had still found no signs of civilization.
"What are the odds of there being a temple with absolutely no villages around?" Jack asked no one in particular.
"The planet could be uninhabited O'Neill," Teal'c supplied.
"True, but Captain Michaels said that the temple was still in use, therefore we must assume that someone is here," Jack pointed out.
"Yes, but where?" Sam asked, but was not given a chance to hear a reply.
Suddenly, they heard sounds of rustling vegetation from behind them. Jack immediately whirled around, his MP-5 in his hands. He heard the rest of his team drawing their weapons and relaxed slightly, knowing that they were well armed and hopefully well equipped to handle any threat from the locals.
"Looks like we've found our locals," Michaels whispered to Sam, his own MP- 5 in his hands.
"Look sharp, kids," Jack said.
He slowly moved to his right, positioning himself behind one of the huge trees that formed the forest, motioning for the others to do the same. He saw them comply and once he was satisfied that the others were covered, he turned back towards the direction of the sound. Jack strained his ears and heard more vegetation being disturbed. He thought he heard voices, but he couldn't be sure. He listened for a while longer and he became sure that there were voices, speaking in a language that he couldn't understand.
'This is an alien planet, O'Neill, of course you don't understand the language' Jack told himself.
He motioned for the others to fall back a few paces and quickly followed them. He made his way over to Sam, who was crouched behind a medium sized tree. Ten feet to their left, Teal'c waited with Michaels.
"Can you hear that, Carter?" Jack whispered.
Sam turned her head slightly so that she could hear the voices better. Her eyes widened suddenly at what she heard. At the same instant, Jack saw Teal'c turn towards him, what passed for alarm for the Jaffa clearly on his face.
"That's Goa'uld, Sir," Sam replied. She turned to get confirmation from Teal'c, who simply nodded his agreement.
"Shit. We need to go back to the Stargate before they see us. We're not in any position to defend ourselves now, not against that many of them," Jack said as the few voices got closer, then multiplied until about thirty Jaffa could be heard and seen through the cover of the trees. They were marching in their direction along a path that SG-1 had not encountered yet. The Jaffa were about fifteen feet to their left, close enough to spot them if they were to bother looking.
The decision made, Jack turned toward the direction of the Stargate, motioning for the rest of his team to walk ahead of him. He was about to step forward, when a voice stopped him cold.
"Tau'ri, kree!" the Jaffa yelled at them.
His momentary paralysis broken, Jack dove towards the cover of the nearest tree.
"Take cover!" he yelled and then positioned himself and fired at the Jaffa who had spoken, who was standing only a few feet in front of Jack. He couldn't understand how their position had been found, unless the Jaffa had known all along that they were there and had waited until now to confront them. He heard the discharge of the other MP-5s and knew that the rest of his team was doing their best to defend themselves and retreat towards the Stargate. Jack saw Teal'c firing his staff weapon at anyone who got near him, and saw Sam and Michaels doing the same with their weapons. Jack took care of himself as best he could, while moving slowly towards where he thought the Stargate was.
He quickly dove for cover again as a staff blast sailed over his head, impacting the tree behind him. He rolled to his feet as another blast narrowly missed his left leg. Jack fired his weapon, taking out the Jaffa before he got a chance to fire again. He stepped back quickly, intent on putting as much space as he could between himself and the dead Jaffa, when his ankle twisted painfully, causing him to lose his balance and fall. When Jack hit the ground, he felt the soft soil underneath him give way and barely had time to reach out to grab a low hanging branch before the ground fell away, revealing a steep drop to a ravine a few dozen feet below him. Jack forgot his grip on his weapon; instead he grabbed at the branch and hoped that it would hold his weight. He desperately tried to swing himself onto firmer ground, but was rewarded only with the snapping of the branch, sending him down to meet the ground of the ravine.
He looked up as he fell, and watched as the tree he'd been holding on to grew smaller and smaller. He knew what was in store for him and unconsciously, closed his eyes so that he wouldn't see what he would surely feel. His last thought before his body hit the ground below was of his team. He hoped that they could get away, back to the Stargate and back to Earth.
****
Consciousness returned slowly.
At first, he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened. He didn't know much of anything, except that his head hurt and that he felt incredibly nauseous. He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to be assaulted by the bright light of the suns. Instead, he experienced only slight discomfort as his eyes struggled to focus on his surroundings. It wasn't quite nightfall yet, but the suns were quickly disappearing into the horizon. Jack turned his head to the right and saw that he was at the bottom of the ravine. He looked up and could see the tree he'd been holding onto. He supposed that was a good thing, because it meant that he hadn't fallen that far.
Slowly, Jack moved his extremities, trying to feel for broken bones. He winced when his knees flared up as he moved his legs, but was relieved when he felt no sharp, mind numbing pain as he moved his arms and legs. He felt slight pain and discomfort in his back, but nothing severe. He'd felt worse after a particularly strenuous workout back home. His ribs were intact and aside from the pounding in his head, Jack counted himself lucky.
He got himself up to a sitting position and only then noticed that he'd landed in the middle of what appeared to be a bed of flowers. They were bright pink, dotted every now and then with a yellow or white center. They looked like sunflowers, except for the odd colors. Jack reached down and into the flowerbed, surprised to find that it was thick and spongy. No wonder he hadn't severely hurt himself. The soft soil and equally soft flowers had served to break his fall.
"Thank heaven for small favors," Jack muttered to himself as he carefully got to his feet, wincing as his head did several loops before settling once again on top of his neck.
He blinked rapidly, willing his body into motion. He lifted his head, immediately trying to find a way out of the ravine and back to where the rest of his team was. By the look of things, several hours had passed since he'd fallen. The thought brought a sick feeling into Jack's stomach, because a lot could happen in a few hours. He had to get back to his team and see how they were.
After several failed attempts, Jack managed to grab onto a vine and pull himself up and out of the ravine. He glanced down as the remaining sunlight drifted away and once again counted himself lucky for landing where he had. A little more to the left and he could have been paralyzed.
He shook his head to clear the pessimistic thoughts and immediately regretted it when he became nauseous and disoriented. He recognized those as clear signs of a concussion and knew that he had to get his team and get them all back home very soon. Once the nausea had subsided, Jack looked around and started walking towards the direction where he'd last seen Teal'c, his MP-5 held in front of him. He moved carefully and quietly, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention.
When he reached the spot he was sure he'd seen Teal'c, Jack stopped and stared at the ground. There was no sign of Teal'c or any of the other Jaffa he had seen a few hours earlier. He raised his head and looked around some more, seeing nothing that would indicate a battle had taken place there. Jack couldn't even find the discarded casings from the bullets that he knew they'd fired. Why would the Jaffa that attacked them want to cover up the fact that a battle had been fought? What were they trying to hide? It was almost as if they were cleaning up so that anyone else who came back to the planet would think it was uninhabited and leave.
Jack walked a few feet forward and then stopped, once again looking around the area. There was nothing. No sign of a fight, no sign of a struggle. More distressing, there was no sign of his team. Jack fought down the rising panic and methodically walked through the area he was sure they'd covered when the Jaffa had began their attack, but once again found nothing.
How could that be? He couldn't find the Jaffa that had attacked them, nor could he find where they'd come from. There were still no signs of villages or any other dwellings, nor where there any caves or other hiding places.
As quickly as his battered body allowed, Jack extended the perimeter of his search until several more hours had passed. In his extended search, he'd managed to come across a few broken branches and slightly trampled flowerbeds, but nothing to give him any clues on the whereabouts of his missing team members. Darkness had finally descended upon the now calm surface of the planet, severely limiting Jack's ability to continue his search. Since he couldn't do anything for his team by himself, he decided that the best thing to do was to go back to Earth and get reinforcements.
Jack started walking back towards the Stargate, hoping that the three other members of SG-1 had made it back there. He knew that they wouldn't have willingly left him, not unless they had been retreating. Even then, they could still be around the Stargate, all he had to do was get there and find them.
With renewed determination, Jack started making his way back towards the Stargate, hoping that he'd find familiar faces when he got there.
****
"Unscheduled incoming traveler."
The announcement brought George Hammond out of his train of thought. Immediately, his stomach clenched in worry as it always did when a similar alarm blared through the base. He'd learned in his years of working at the SGC and anything and everything could happen and he was better off being prepared. Hammond quickly got up from his chair and walked towards the control room to see just who was knocking on his door.
"It's SG-1, Sir," the sergeant on duty stated as soon as he spotted the general.
"They're not due to report back for two more days," Hammond commented to himself. "Open the iris," he commanded the sergeant and then walked down the remaining flight of stairs and made it quickly to the embarkation room to await his premier team. His stomach clenched even tighter in worry now that he knew that SG-1 was involved. They rarely reported in early, unless something had happened. George just hoped that it wasn't anything too terribly serious.
He stood directly in front of the Stargate, watching the blue pool shimmer lazily. After a short while, a solitary figure emerged from the gate, before the gate winked out of existence, signaling that there were no more travelers en route.
"Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked. He saw Jack turn towards him, clearly disoriented and limping slightly. "What happened?"
Jack blinked at the general, trying to get the man to stop spinning in his vision. He looked around, hoping to see Sam or Teal'c waiting for him. His stomach clenched in dread when he realized that they weren't there.
"Where is the rest of SG-1?" Hammond asked.
Jack's eyes widened momentarily, his pessimistic thoughts having just been confirmed to him.
"They didn't make it back before me?" Jack asked, his voice eerily quiet in the huge room.
"No, Colonel, they didn't. What happened?"
Jack sighed and walked down the ramp to where the general was standing. Slowly, then with renewed intensity, Jack told his commanding officer what had happened.
"Captain Michaels had no idea what was in the temple or what the inscriptions said?" Hammond asked.
Jack clenched his jaw, once again fighting that old anger that came with being reminded of the teammate that he'd lost.
"He knew some of it, but couldn't decipher everything, Sir," Jack replied. "What he did tell us led us to believe that there was no trouble on the planet, just some worshippers. We didn't expect any Jaffa."
Jack watched the general take everything in, then made his decision.
"Permission to take units 2 and 3 and return to the planet, sir. The rest of my team is still there and I want to find them."
General Hammond shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Colonel. You've been injured and you're going straight to the infirmary. After that, we'll see. I will, however, send units 2 and 7 to the planet to have a look around. Dr. Harrison is a skilled linguist and might pick up something that Captain Michaels missed."
"I should be with them, sir. It's my team out there."
"You're no good to anyone if you can't stand straight, Colonel," Hammond said, watching Jack. "Now you either get yourself to the infirmary, or I will have you escorted there."
"Yes, sir, I'm on my way," Jack grumbled and began to walk out of the embarkation room.
Hammond stood at the base of the ramp and watched the colonel go, hoping that the rest of SG-1 would be found safe and unharmed.
****
48 hours later found the SGC just as confused about the fate of the remaining members of SG-1 as they'd been when the three had first disappeared.
George Hammond made his way to the infirmary, his jaw set and his shoulders squared in defiance and determination. Anyone who saw him immediately recognized the general's attitude and wisely stayed out of his way. To an outside observer, the general was the epitome of calm. It served well to mask the uneasiness, worry, and doubt that churned within him.
SG-2 and SG-7 had returned from PTX-612 eight hours after they'd left Earth. They had been unable to find anything to indicate that SG-1 had ever been on the planet, much less any indication of where the three missing members of the team had been taken. This greatly concerned the general, because the fact that the Jaffa that attacked SG-1 had so thoroughly cleaned their tracks could only mean that they were concealing something.
'Or someone,' George thought. 'These people are not in the habit of inhabiting planets on their own, because some Goa'uld always holds their leash. The question is, which one is it this time?'
To make matters worse, neither Dr. Harrison of SG-7 nor Dr. Meyers of SG- 11, who had visited the planet with her team and SG-15, had been able to completely translate the writings on the temple walls. They, along with Captain Michaels of SG-1, were the best linguists currently at the SGC. If they couldn't do the work, who else was there?
'There is someone else,' George thought as he rounded the last corridor that led to the infirmary. 'I just have to get him back here.'
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I should have paid more attention to where I was going."
The feminine voice broke Hammond out of his thoughts and he glanced down at the petite doctor he'd run into.
"It's my fault," he said, slightly embarrassed that he'd run into her. "How is Colonel O'Neill?"
Janet smiled, but there was very little humor in it.
"Let me guess, he's been insufferable, demanding that you let him out of here?" the general guessed.
"Yes, sir, something like that. However, the injury he sustained on PTX- 612, while not life threatening, was severe enough to give him a concussion, which is why I insisted that he remain in the infirmary. He seems to be doing better, at least physically."
Hammond nodded his understanding of the situation. "Doctor, is the Colonel well enough to travel?"
Janet looked quizzically at the general, but when it became apparent that no answer was forthcoming, she gave him her answer.
"If you're going to send him off-world, I recommend that someone stay with him at all times, just in case. Gate travel is pretty intense and it might aggravate his concussion."
"I don't intend to send him off world, Dr. Fraiser, but I do intend to put him on a plane." He wasn't being deliberately misleading, he just didn't want to talk about his plan until it had already been set in motion. He wasn't a superstitious man by any stretch, but he did believe in operating with caution.
"He should be okay on a plane, sir."
"Thank you, Doctor. I won't keep you any longer," he said to her, then made his way into the infirmary and towards the bed where Colonel O'Neill lay.
As the general got closer, he got a better look at the colonel. The man looked pale and very tired. His shoulders were tense and his fists were tightly clenched, which was a good indication that the man wasn't sleeping. It had been hard keeping the colonel in the infirmary and he'd been forced to order the man to stay put. Hammond understood the colonel's need to be out there, looking for his team. However, he wasn't going to do anyone, least of all himself, any good if he wasn't operating at 100 percent.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the general said as he took a seat on a chair beside the colonel's bed. He waited for a beat, before the younger man's eyes opened and settled on the general.
"Sir. Do you have any news about my team?" the colonel asked, his voice soft and laced with worry.
"I'm afraid not, Colonel. The SG units found no signs of SG-1 and Drs. Harrison and Meyer were unable to complete the translation on the temple walls."
The colonel sighed, and then closed his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, and it became apparent to the general that the colonel was trying hard to contain his emotions.
"So that's it?" O'Neill finally spoke, his voice gaining intensity with each word. "My team is missing and I can't go looking for them. Everyone who has been out looking has come up empty handed," he paused and closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them and looking at the general. "Of all the brilliant linguists we have on staff here, you're telling me that no one can translate a simple wall? Isn't there anyone else we can send?"
The general took a deep breath, his own feelings of helplessness and anger echoing the colonel's. He held the younger man's eyes, conveying to him that he did understand the situation and what he was going through. Hammond only hoped that it was enough.
"The only other person on staff that we could send is Captain Michaels…"
"Yeah, and he's missing," Jack finished for him. "Besides, Michaels wasn't able to completely translate the writings in the first place."
"There is someone else, Jack," Hammond said, keeping his eyes on the colonel.
Jack's' eyes narrowed in confusion. "I thought you said we'd already sent the best the SGC had to offer."
"The person I'm referring to is not at the SGC, at least not anymore," Hammond commented, waiting to see how long it would take the colonel to figure out who he was talking about. It didn't take very long. Jack's frown deepened and he looked away from the general, shaking his head.
"He won't come back, sir. He was pretty determined to leave," Jack said, his voice taking on a far away quality, as if he were remembering something painful.
"How do you know that, Colonel? Are you sure Dr. Jackson wouldn't come back, or do you think he wouldn't be able to translate the writings?"
Jack's gaze returned to the general. "I have no doubt about Daniel's linguistic abilities, no matter what he thinks," Jack said. "However, I don't think he'd come back."
"Not even to help his friends?"
Hammond saw the emotions flicker across the colonel's eyes, knowing how hard it was for Jack to talk about Dr. Jackson. The two had never discussed it, but the general knew that the archaeologist's resignation had not been easy on the colonel.
"I really don't know, General."
"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to find out, Colonel. You leave for Los Angeles first thing tomorrow morning."
AUTHOR: Ynette
DATE: April 21, 2002
CATEGORY: AU, Action-Adventure, Drama
SPOILERS: There are a bunch of little ones. Familiarity with The Curse, Thor's Chariot and Secrets will help.
SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: This story is AU, but it takes off from Season 4
RATING: I rated this R, mainly for violence and language.
STATUS: Complete. It will be posted in parts.
SUMMARY: Tragedy befalls SG-1, leading a member to resign from the SGC. Can a mission gone wrong a year later bring them back together?
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first Stargate story, so I'm a complete novice when it comes to this stuff. Many thanks go to my beta, Katherine, for doing such an amazing job of editing this story. It ended up so much better after she got her hands on it.
To Live Again
Finish each day and be done with it.
You have done what you could.
Some blunders and absurdities have crept in.
Forget them as soon as you can.
Tomorrow is a new day.
You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit
To be encumbered with your old nonsense."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Part I: The Past Dictates the Future
Jack O'Neill was not a happy man.
He sighed heavily and shifted his weight for what seemed like the one- hundredth time in the past hour. It was amazing to him just how many twinges he could get in his worn knees from simply standing. He supposed that they wouldn't be complaining quite as much if he'd only stop fidgeting or sit down, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he stood beside what looked like a giant oak tree with bright, red leaves and purple fruit and shifted from foot to foot, trying to keep from tearing the leaves off the branches he could reach. He didn't think that the locals, if there were any, would take kindly to him defacing one of their trees. Not that he'd care either way. A tree was a tree was a tree, no matter where it was or what it was used for. Jack glanced up at the bluish sky of PTX-612 and squinted at the brightness of the suns. With renewed impatience, he took his sunglasses out of a vest pocket and quickly put them on. He sighed once again and then directed his gaze away from the sky and towards the source of his annoyance.
He unconsciously tightened the grip on his MP-5, though he knew that it wouldn't do him any good and would not get the younger man working any faster. Jack supposed that he could shoot the man, though that wouldn't necessarily guarantee that the job would get done.
"Hey, Carter, do you think if I shoot at the ground beside him, he'd be inclined to work a little faster?"
Major Samantha Carter, who sat on a rock beside the colonel, glanced up at the sound of his voice. She regarded him seriously for a moment, and then shrugged and played along.
"What if you accidentally hit him, Sir? We'd have to go back to Earth to get another one."
"Hmm, you do have a point, Major. Besides, it'd be way too bloody. I don't want to have to stay behind in this heat and clean up the mess," he added, a slight smile curving his lips.
The desire to shoot the man was almost overwhelming, however. Not because Jack particularly wanted him dead, but simply because it would get things moving and give him something to do. If there was anything he hated, it was boredom. He liked having something to keep his mind occupied at all times. Unfortunately for him, a lot of these missions required a lot of patience, a lot of waiting for someone else to do their job. Lately, SG-1 had been doing a lot of waiting for the man in question now to do his job.
'If only we could take his head apart, download all the necessary knowledge into his brain and put him back together', Jack thought, his eyes narrowing at the image his all too vivid imagination provided for him. 'There would be no more waiting, no more boredom. And there would definitely be no more insects trying to crawl up my leg'. Jack grimaced as he brushed his pant leg, dislodging the insect. Satisfied that he wasn't going to become lunch to the native insect population, Jack returned his attention to the younger man.
"How much longer is this going to take?"
Sam turned away from Jack and glanced at the younger man just in time to see the man's shoulders tense at Jack's question.
"I don't know, sir," the man replied immediately, without turning to face his commanding officer. His voice was slightly distracted, giving no indication that Jack had either startled or annoyed him by his questioning. "I'm having some difficulties translating the glyphs, but it shouldn't take too much longer."
Jack rolled his eyes, because he knew that the man couldn't see him. He sighed and shifted his weight once again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carter turn give him a slightly amused glance, but he ignored her. Instead, he concentrated on a point on the back of the linguist's head.
"That's what you said an hour ago, Captain Michaels," Jack pointed out, trying to disguise his impatience. "In the mean time, the suns keep getting hotter and the bugs keep getting way more eager to have a taste of us. I don't know about you, but I would like to go back to Earth with an intact supply of blood."
For the past four hours, SG-1 had been patiently waiting for the captain to either tell them that the temple they stood in front of was safe or that they needed to go back to Earth to come up with an alternate plan. The MALP readings they had received of the planet had shown them the temple and several other surrounding structures. Mineral readings showed an ample supply of naquadah in the area. That, more than anything, had prompted General Hammond to authorize a mission to this planet. Since the naquadah deposits seemed to be directly underneath the temple they now stood before, it was imperative that they enter and study it further. However, Jack did not want to risk the lives of his team unless he was absolutely sure that there was no immediate danger to them in the temple.
Jack sighed once again as he ran a hand through his hair. 'Daniel would have already translated the whole damn thing,' Jack thought uncharitably. 'Yeah, but Daniel isn't here. He decided that he had better things to do with his time.'
The bitter thought followed of its own accord, making Jack wince at the strength of it.
"Get to it, Captain. We don't have all day," Jack stated. He kept his voice as neutral and non-confrontational as he could, knowing that his anger wasn't really directed at the man who stood in front of him, but at another linguist, no longer a member of SG-1.
"O'Neill, are you angry at Captain Michaels?" Teal'c asked. When Jack turned to regard the Jaffa, he saw Teal'c raise an eyebrow and study him carefully. "It is not his fault that Daniel Jackson is no longer with us," Teal'c added.
Jack's head snapped up at the comment. Once his angry, brown eyes met Tealc's honest ones, however, the anger he felt in his gut sparked, then slowly sizzled away until it only existed as a pale afterthought at the back of his mind.
"If that were Daniel standing there, trying to translate that writing, I'd still be yelling at him to hurry up," Jack commented, his voice dull and flat, but soft so that Michaels couldn't overhear him. "That's not what this is about, Teal'c."
"Indeed?" Teal'c made the word a question, making Jack suddenly feel defensive.
"No, it isn't, Teal'c. Not everything is about Daniel. I just want to get the hell out of these suns," Jack said.
Without another word, Jack turned away from Teal'c and walked away from his teammates, leaving Sam and Teal'c staring after him, similar expressions of worry on their faces.
****
Teal'c observed as O'Neill walked away from them, his eyebrow rising quizzically. He wondered why the Tau'ri were so intent on lying to themselves about what was obvious to everyone else. He had heard O'Neill's explanation about his annoyance with Captain Michaels, but knew that the man was not being entirely truthful.
He was well aware of just how much Daniel Jackson's departure from SG-1 had affected O'Neill. Teal'c had been around during the mission that brought their team to its knees and had seen what it had done to O'Neill and Daniel Jackson individually as well as to the friendship and trust that they had shared. For months following the archaeologist's departure, Teal'c had observed as O'Neill closed himself off from the rest of them, insisting that everything was normal. Neither he nor Major Carter had believed it for a minute, but there had been nothing that they could do.
That sentiment applied to their current predicament as well, because Teal'c was aware that O'Neill's annoyance at Captain Michaels had a lot more to do with Daniel Jackson
than O'Neill would admit to. However, Teal'c could not get O'Neill to talk about the events leading to Daniel Jackson's absence from the team and how much his absence still affected him. He had tried very hard over the last year, to no avail. If O'Neill didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to.
"He still deceives himself about his feelings surrounding Daniel Jackson's departure," Teal'c intoned quietly to his team mate.
"Yes, he does," Sam replied, still gazing at where the colonel now stood by another large tree. "He's stubborn, he won't tell us that it's bothering him."
"Just as we do not speak of how it has bothered us?" Teal'c made the statement a question, glad for the opportunity to address the subject with his team mate.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, something like that. I still have a hard time believing it. Sometimes, it's almost like Daniel is just on vacation and is going to come back at any time. Is that silly or what?"
"It is not silly, Major Carter. Sometimes, I too, feel like Daniel Jackson will be returning. But I do not believe that will be the case. The circumstances under which he departed leave very little hope for his return."
"I know, Teal'c. It was just another mission to us all. We left Earth expecting to come back the same as when we'd left. I don't think either one of us imagined how much things would be different once we returned." Sam paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I can still remember the bloody faces of the innocent natives as they tried to understand what was happening. The smell of the charred bodies is something that I'm never going to forget, along with that haunted, guilty look in Daniel's eyes."
Teal'c inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the words. "He took it very hard. No matter how much we attempted to make him understand that there was nothing he could have done to prevent what happened, he would not listen."
Sam laughed, but it was a short, bitter thing. "He's stubborn too, just like the colonel. It's no wonder those two parted on such bad terms."
"Daniel Jackson did not have to leave the SGC. He could have chosen to stay and attempt to rectify what had happened," Teal'c said.
"He didn't have to leave, but I think he felt like he did. He felt such guilt…" Sam trailed off, before gathering her thoughts again and regarding Teal'c. "I went to see him in his office right after we got back. He was so upset. I don't think I've ever seen him like that. When I left I heard him crying and I don't think that I'll ever be able to forget the sound of those broken sobs."
"I attempted to speak to him as well, but he turned me away. I could not understand why. However, I believe that it was harder for O'Neill, because he and Daniel Jackson have always been able to speak about such things. I do not think O'Neill appreciated being set aside."
Teal'c glanced at O'Neill, who was now watching them. Teal'c inclined his head respectfully and saw the colonel begin to walk towards them. "We must get O'Neill to talk about what happened, Major Carter. If not, I am afraid that we will never have a permanent archaeologist on the team."
****
Jason Michaels sighed in frustration when he heard his CO's command to hurry up. Translating wasn't exactly a piece of cake and it took time, but Jack O'Neill didn't seem to understand that. It wasn't that Jason didn't know what he was doing. It just took him a bit longer to translate a language that he wasn't very familiar with. The frustration turned quickly to anger as he heard Teal'c mention the name of SG-1's first archaeologist.
Michaels had heard stories about what had happened to make Dr. Jackson resign, but he didn't know anything concrete. He'd only been at Cheyenne Mountain four months and had not had the opportunity to read through SG-1's mission reports. He had intended to do it immediately after his assignment to SG-1, but his need to familiarize himself with the ancient cultures he would now be studying had won out, leaving the reports on the back burner. The stories he had heard from soldiers and scientists alike, however, had intrigued him. Each group had their own opinions about what had driven Dr. Jackson out of the SGC, but Michaels had some trouble believing the differing accounts he had heard. He wouldn't believe anything until he got around to reading the official report, or heard it from a member of SG-1.
Michaels knew of Dr. Jackson and of what he had discovered while at the SGC, but had never met him. He had also learned through the grapevine that the good doctor's departure was the result of a mission gone horribly wrong. Apparently, Dr. Jackson had been somehow responsible for the deaths of hundreds of the peaceful inhabitants of PJ7-564. In addition to the civilian deaths, Colonel O'Neill had been seriously injured as a result of that mission, nearly killed, if he could believe the gossip he'd been hearing. The remaining members of SG-1 refused to talk about the failed mission, so Jason couldn't get any information that way. They would only speak of Daniel Jackson when they were alone, which eliminated any chance of him overhearing something. Jason didn't understand why all the secrecy was necessary, but he was determined to find out just what had happened on PJ7-564.
For now, however, he had a translation to finish.
He looked back at the Egyptian hieroglyphs and scratched his head thoughtfully. His green eyes narrowed as he read the part of the wall that he'd already translated, which suddenly ended in a flurry of symbols and greatly differentiated from the writing beside it. Michaels couldn't understand how the writing on the wall became so confusing so suddenly. It was almost as if another language had been used along with the Egyptian he was reading. That couldn't be the case, however, since the glyphs looked similar. What he had managed to translate seemed to be a welcome message, which was a good sign. He was glad that he was going to have good news for his commanding officer once he finished the translation. He hoped to, at least.
Jason stepped up to the wall and ran his fingers over the stubborn glyphs. He was a good linguist, which was why he'd been assigned to SG-1 in the first place. However, he had no letters after his name nor had he ever aspired to any. He had always wanted to be in the Air Force and nothing else had mattered. He had attended the Air Force Academy right after high school and had received a degree in Linguistics, which he'd used on several missions. He spoke eleven languages, and had been invaluable to his team during those missions. None of those languages, however, currently included ancient dialects, especially Egyptian hieroglyphs. He had been given an intensive course on ancient cultures and languages when he'd been transferred to Cheyenne Mountain and Michaels had soaked up the knowledge quickly, fascinated by the material. However, it had become painfully clear to him that he was nowhere near as good as Dr. Jackson was. Apparently, no one else had been either, since he was the fifth social scientist to be assigned to SG-1 since Dr. Jackson's resignation. Because of that knowledge, he didn't take it very personally when Colonel O'Neill became annoyed with his slow progress. It hurt not to have the CO's trust and respect, but it wasn't as bad as it could be. The fact remained that being assigned to SG-1 was the best thing that had happened to him in his career, and Jason Michaels was not going to let anyone, or anything, get in his way.
****
"The important thing to remember is that every language has a pattern. Identifying the pattern will help you decipher and master the language you're trying to learn," Dr. Daniel Jackson explained as he pointed to the slide of ancient Greek text that was currently on display in the middle of the lecture hall's rear wall. Daniel glanced at the graduate students who sat throughout the mostly full lecture hall, quietly absorbing every word. Unlike others he had lectured in the past, these kids understood that their grade would ultimately depend on what Daniel said, so they listened carefully and intently.
Daniel took a deep breath and smiled ruefully at the irony of being at the one place he thought he'd never return to. After all, what university could possibly want a crackpot archaeologist/linguist shaping young minds? UCLA apparently did. Daniel had been very surprised when Dr. Richard Morton, the head of the archeology department at UCLA, had contacted him with an offer of a position at the university, teaching a class in linguistic skills as part of a special archaeology doctorate geared towards the best and brightest students. The class was officially part of the archaeology department, even though it dealt entirely with languages. It also happened to be a very specialized class that was only offered in very few universities. UCLA had lost the professor who had previously held the position to an unforeseen illness and desperately needed a replacement. There didn't seem to be very many linguists who were well versed in archaeology, or vise versa, so UCLA had contacted Daniel.
At first, Daniel had refused the offer because he knew where it was coming from. When he'd left the SGC, he had done so because he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. He, the rest of SG-1, and the other innocents involved at the SGC and off-world were better off without him, so he'd packed his things, resigned and walked out without looking back. However, since he had been very brutally laughed out of the academic community six years ago, and had subsequently disappeared since then, he didn't have very many options for employment. He hadn't given a public lecture or written a paper, no matter how ill received it would have been, for so long that the chances of anyone knowing who he was, or that he was actually very good at what he did, were very slim.
When he had received Dr. Morton's letter, Daniel had no doubt of how he'd come to get the offer. General Hammond, for whatever reason, had decided to pull some strings and assist him, which Daniel truly did appreciate. He had not understood why the general would be inclined to do that, after everything he'd done and all of the pain he'd caused, which was why Daniel had rejected the offer at first. Daniel could only imagine how much wrangling the general would have had to do in order to convince anyone that Daniel was not crazy and could be of value, which left him confused. However, as days turned into months, it had become painfully clear that he wasn't in a position to be picky, so he'd finally called Richard Morton and accepted the position. Three days later, he was back in Los Angeles, the site of one of his last, and least well received, lectures before disappearing into the wild blue yonder of other worlds.
Richard Morton had been very polite and to the point, never bringing up Daniel's shaky standing in the archaeological community. It was clear to Daniel that Dr. Morton knew who he was and how others in their field viewed him. However, for once, Morton seemed more interested in what Daniel had actually accomplished, rather than what he hadn't. He'd told Daniel that as long as he taught the classes he was scheduled to teach and stuck to being a linguist, his job was secure. In other words, no spouting about aliens having built the pyramids. Daniel had almost laughed again at the unspoken threat, because he now knew for sure that aliens HAD built the pyramids. But he wasn't about to risk national security to point that out to the man. Daniel had agreed to the terms, and had been on his way towards his second attempt at academia.
The assistant professorship suited Daniel just fine because it was different. There was no archaeology involved, past what he occasionally referred to when he wanted his students to study a particular language. He'd come to the conclusion that being on digs would not have given him much satisfaction after all of the work he'd done at the SGC. After all, what could he possibly find in a dig that he hadn't already uncovered and experienced with SG-1 on any number of worlds?
Teaching had been the perfect choice, but it hadn't been easy. His reputation was still the same as it had been when everyone had walked out of his last, fateful lecture in Los Angeles a mere six years ago. Most of his colleagues at UCLA could not understand why the university would want to have Daniel on staff and they made sure that he knew it. It didn't help that two of his fellow professors were people that he'd worked with, and disagreed with, on research projects before. At first, the insults, whispered conversations and innuendoes had hurt Daniel deeply, since he was already doing a good job of berating himself over the actions that had led him to Los Angeles in the first place. However, after a while, the insults had stopped registering. After all, he had been hurt in much worse ways since he'd last been around academia. He'd seen and experienced things in that time that none of the others could even imagine, which made the insults lose their impact on him.
Daniel quickly learned to distance himself from everyone and everything, concentrating only on showing up every day to teach the six classes he was scheduled for. Nothing else outside of his lectures, grading papers and preparing exams seemed to matter to him. Soon, the rest of the department got the hint and lost interest. Unlike the other members of the department, Daniel did not have a research project to work on. After the cultures and artifacts that he'd seen, there didn't seem to be anything on Earth worth researching. And even if there was, he had neither the funding nor the influence that he'd once had. Not that he was broke. His four years of active duty at the SGC, plus his salary from the original Abydos mission, had left him with a sizable monetary cushion. But it was nowhere near enough to fund a sizeable research project.
Instead, Daniel taught class and did nothing else. He used his archaeology degree as little as possible. After all, he now knew much, much more than the so-called experts he was surrounded by. He couldn't participate in a research project to prove or disprove something that he more than likely had already proven. Besides, it would be too easy to let something slip about what he knew. Not that anyone would take him seriously, but he couldn't take that chance. His theories, which he had now proven, were still held as jokes and ridiculed, and Daniel made no attempt to change that. He was content to live his life, as it were, and let everyone else live theirs.
"Dr. Jackson?"
The question suddenly broke Daniel out of his musings. He quickly looked away from the slide he was still pointing at and turned around, smiling sheepishly at the young lady who had spoken. She, like most of the class, was in her mid twenties, only ten or so years younger than Daniel. His age worked to his advantage in the classes he taught, because his students seemed better able to relate to him than to someone older. He rearranged the glasses on his face and focused on the redheaded woman.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to zone out like that," Daniel said, wondering just how long he'd been out of it. "What was the question?"
She returned his smile. "I wanted to know how you can recognize patterns when you're exposed to a language that you've never seen?"
Daniel's smile widened a bit, grateful that his students were paying attention to him.
"You find patterns. You examine the language, whether it's written or spoken, and try to find similarities, places where it repeats. You then analyze those places and see how they fit in with the rest of the language, how they relate," Daniel raised his index finger in his familiar gesture of concentration as he paced in front of his students, raising his voice so that everyone in the lecture hall could hear him.
"From that, you begin to extrapolate certain words, phrases and concepts," he continued. "After that, and after careful observation, you begin to understand the language in its entirety. No matter what language it is or how difficult it is, the patterns will always be there. Like these," he explained.
He pushed a button on the small remote in his hand and the slide changed to be replaced by a new one.
"This is ancient Egyptian," Daniel said, pointing at the hieroglyphs that graced the new slide. "It hasn't been spoken on Earth for thousands of years, which makes it difficult to recognize," he added. "But if you look closely at the depicted hieroglyphs, you'll see the pattern in this particular sample," he stated and proceeded to go through the text one glyph at a time to show them what he meant.
Daniel neglected to tell them that on Abydos, the language had never died and was spoken to this day and that he could speak it fluently, along with about ten other languages that had never been spoken on Earth. That wasn't important, however. Not now and not ever again.
He continued with his lecture, letting himself forget everything but the stubbornly undead language in front of him.
****
"So what's the verdict, Captain?" Jack O'Neill asked the linguist as he strode up to where the man was standing. He lifted his right hand up to his face to wipe away an annoying bead of sweat that was sliding down his cheek as he regarded the captain. He didn't fail to notice the slight tensing of the younger man's shoulders at the sound of his voice. Did he have that affect on everyone? Jack didn't think so, but Michaels seemed to tense up anytime O'Neill got anywhere close to him.
"We're standing in front of a temple, Colonel," Michaels said confidently, trying to keep his voice level and as unemotional as he could make it, despite the fact that his commanding officer made him a bit nervous. "It appears to be a temple to Seshat, the Egyptian goddess of writing."
Jack raised an inquisitive eyebrow when the captain turned to look at him. "Appears to be?" Jack repeated.
Michaels nodded. "Yes, sir. This symbol here is Seshat's symbol," he said and turned back to the entrance where he pointed to the figure of a seated woman, with what looked like a flower framed by down-turned horns, above her head. "It's what was used by the ancient Egyptians to depict her. However, Seshat had no temples devoted to her back on Earth. At least that's what the mythology states, which is why I say that this appears to be a temple to her," Jason paused and took a breath before continuing. "But just because Seshat had no temples on Earth doesn't mean that there can't be any temples to her here."
Jack nodded, taking in the carefully delivered information the captain had just given. He glanced over the younger man's shoulder and took in the figure Michaels was pointing at. The Captain was career military and was well aware that expediency was the key to a successful mission. Which was why he tended to get to the point very quickly, with very little added information. Jack liked that about the man. However, every now and then, he missed the rambling lectures he used to be given about a variety of subjects. Even though he ignored them half of the time, Jack sometimes found himself wishing that Michaels would slip into lecture mode and go on and on about something or other. That had yet to happen, however.
"What do you know about this She-sat in Egyptian history, Captain?" Jack asked, not even trying to correctly pronounce the goddess's name, as he motioned for Sam and Teal'c to get closer to them and hear what was being said.
Michaels shrugged. "I'm not an Egyptologist, Colonel. What I know of Egyptian history is what I was taught when I joined the SGC, so my knowledge is sketchy at best. But what I do know is that Seshat is a scribe. A scribe's job in ancient Egypt was to witness and record the life and accomplishments of someone of her choosing. Seshat is believed to be the wife of Thoth, who is her male counterpart," Michaels finished and glanced at each of his team members in turn, before finally settling on observing his commanding officer.
"That's it?" Jack asked, somewhat surprised.
Michaels shrugged. "I told you I didn't know much about Egypt."
"Teal'c, have you ever heard of this She-sat?" Jack asked, turning to the Jaffa, hoping that he'd have a little more information to give them.
Teal'c raised an eyebrow as he regarded O'Neill, before answering. "I have not, O'Neill. However, I am aware of some Goa'uld using scribes to record their battles. Apophis had one that traveled with him, but was never seen by anyone but Apophis. I believe that Apophis wanted his scribe to focus only on recording his deeds, therefore he was not allowed to do anything else, or associate with anyone else."
"Then scribes are usually peaceful in nature, right?" Carter asked, glancing at the hieroglyphs on the wall.
Michaels nodded. "They usually are. They are there to witness the events and record them, not to take part in them."
Jack looked behind Michaels to the writings on the temple's doorway that the Captain had been studying. It was a doorway about ten feet tall, completely covered in hieroglyphs and accented in black marble. Some of the writing, Jack noticed, became something else, something that was not hieroglyphic at all. All he could see were what he dubbed chicken scratches. He thought nothing more of them, confident that if they were important, Michaels would have told him.
The structure around the doorway was impressive, but worn. The brownish stones the temple had been constructed of were now decaying, with smaller pieces of stone littering the grown at regular intervals. The temple was tall and wide, not quite a pyramid shape, but very close to it. It was more rectangular, with a spiked center column. The structure was completely surrounded by tall, full trees. It was almost as if the temple were on an island, completely covered by the greenery around it. It was a beautiful and peaceful looking place, but O'Neill was well aware the appearances were more than often deceiving.
"Were you able to decipher the markings?" Sam asked the captain as she, too, finished her examination of the temple.
Michaels shook his head slowly, a frown marring his face. "Not all of them. There seems to be a different form of hieroglyphics, not to mention several other forms of writing that I can't identify, interwoven with the common type and unfortunately, I can't decipher those. However, I have been able to translate some of it." He stepped away from the rest of SG-1 and led them over to the doorway. He pointed to specific rows of hieroglyphs as he spoke.
"This is a message, welcoming visitors to the temple of Seshat. It says that any and all are welcome, as long as they are prepared to share knowledge. It also states that Seshat is a peaceful goddess."
"So if someone erected this temple in her honor, then there should be some villages around here for us to explore, correct? After all, a goddess needs worshipers," Jack stated, glancing towards the thick trees surrounding the temple. "Maybe some people that we can talk to?" he asked, his voice taking on a tone of cautious excitement at finally having something to do.
They had done a search of the area round the Stargate when they'd arrived on PTX-612 half a day ago and had found nothing to indicate villages or any other type of settlement. All they had found was the temple. And since they knew that they had to get into the temple, they'd decided to start there first, before exploring further for signs of inhabitants. Now that Michaels has assured them that the prominent Goa'uld of this planet was a peaceful one, or as peaceful as Goa'uld could be, they could better devote time and effort to carry out a more efficient search.
"If the temple is still used, and I would say that it is by how clean and free of debris the area around the temple is, then there is a possibility that there are villagers here. We'll just have to find them," Captain Michaels stated.
Satisfied with that assessment, Jack O'Neill nodded. "Very well, kids, let's go exploring!"
****
Daniel quickly made his way to his office, wanting to get away from the throng of students that littered the halls of UCLA's Institute of Archaeology. His second class of the day ended at noon, so when he got out of class, he was typically in the middle of the students' rush to get to the student union for lunch before one o'clock came around and it was time for class again.
He carefully balanced his briefcase in one hand, while the other carried several notebooks with his class notes inside and the textbook for his class. The weight of the load in his arms was heavy, but Daniel was used to it. He had spent many, many years in similar halls while he'd been a student, carrying similar loads to and from class. The feeling was eerily comforting to him.
Daniel sidestepped a young man who had his nose buried in a book and headed for the elevator. He stepped inside and punched the button for the fourth floor. Once he exited the elevator, Daniel made his way to the far end of the hall where his small office was. He put his briefcase down and reached into his pocket for his keys, then quickly opened the office door. He turned on the lights and made his way inside, putting the briefcase, his notebooks and textbook on his desk.
He made his way over to the far end of the room, where a filing cabinet stood next to a window. On top of the cabinet, a coffee maker softly gurgled as it brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Daniel smiled as he poured himself a cup. He'd set his coffee maker to turn on a few minutes before the end of his class so that there would be a fresh pot waiting for him during his lunch hour. Not that he ever actually ate lunch. Instead, he munched on whatever he happened to have available on one of his desk drawers, which could turn out to be anything from candy bars to stale crackers.
As he picked up his cup of coffee, something outside of the window caught Daniel's eye. His office faced a small courtyard, which was surrounded by lush trees and contained a fountain in the center of it. Several benches and picnic tables dotted the landscape here and there, giving students a place to go for quiet study. Since it was spring in California, the fountain was turned on and the water bubbled down towards the small pool below. The water was a bright blue, which reflected the sun very nicely. Daniel sighed and stepped away from the window. He sometimes stood by the window and started at the water, finding a little bit of peace. However, he didn't have much time to do it today.
Daniel walked towards his desk and sat down, picking up the manila folder that lay prominently on the desktop. He opened it up and found the midterm he'd been working on inside. He still had to come up with a topic for the essay, but nothing he'd thought up seemed good enough.
"I'll just pick something the day of the midterm," he muttered, chuckling slightly. "That'll surprise all of us."
He reached over to grab his red marker, when his hand brushed the frame of the lone picture to sit on his desk. The frame was precariously balanced along the edge, and Daniel's hand only served to knock it aside and off the desk with a loud crash.
"Oh, damn!" Daniel got up from the chair and went over to pick up the frame. He noticed with a slight wince that the edge was dented. One more dent to add to the few that already adorned it. He picked it up and brought it to his desk, where he sat and stared at the picture.
It was the picture of himself on a camel, in front of the Great Pyramid of Giza. He'd been on a dig in Egypt when it had been taken and he'd carried it with him ever since. Behind that picture, where no one could see it, was the only picture of Sha'uri that he owned. The one that just depicted her smiling face. Daniel undid the clasps on the back of the frame and gingerly took out Sha'uri's picture from behind the other one. He set the frame aside and held the picture of his dead wife. Daniel slowly ran his thumb over Sha'uri's face, as a small, sad smile touched his lips.
The picture of Sha'uri had once had its own frame. After what had happened to the last one, however, he had decided that it was better to keep the picture hidden where it wouldn't bring up questions that couldn't be answered and memories that were better off hidden away.
**~~**
Daniel walked into his office at the SGC and slammed the door shut behind him, rattling a few of the artifacts that hung on the walls. He didn't bother turning on the overhead lights, because his desk lamp was turned on and he could see just fine without them. He headed straight for his desk, intent on picking up one of the cups that sat there and getting some coffee. He reached down and picked up the cup, but instead of taking it over to the coffee maker, Daniel stared at it. After a few moments, he flung it towards the closed door, grinning humorlessly when the porcelain cup shattered on impact.
That felt good.
With shaking hands, Daniel turned back towards his desk and picked up a couple more of the cups that he'd forgotten to take back home and flung those towards the door as well. When that wasn't enough, he picked up a few of the books that littered the desk and threw those as well.
He shook his head, trying desperately to control the need to scream that threatened to overwhelm him. He clasped his hands together, willing them to stop shaking. When that didn't work, he ran his hands through his hair and took several deep breaths, but that wasn't enough to calm the desperation he felt.
"How could I have been so stupid?" Daniel asked himself, his voice sounding foreign to his ears. He paced the length of his darkened office, unwilling to sit still for fear of the demons finally catching up to him. "How could I have been so ignorant? I should have known better! I should have been more thorough in the translation, more careful! But no… I was so sure!" he yelled, his voice getting louder and louder with each word.
A sob escaped Daniel and he immediately clenched his jaw to prevent any more from doing so. He didn't have a right to feel sorry for himself. He didn't have a right to feel sorrow. He simply didn't deserve it.
The rage, however, he deserved. The looks of disappointment and hatred he had gotten from the members of the SG teams that had been involved in the incident and from the scientists that had pointed out the mistake he'd made, those he was entitled to. And there would be no one who could possibly hate him more than himself right now. Suddenly, he walked to stand in front of his desk and with one swift move, knocked everything off of it. He smiled bitterly at the sound of cups breaking, of electronic material shattering and of lives breaking in two.
"Daniel, what are you doing?" he heard someone say from behind him, but he didn't turn around.
He heard the crunch as the person stepped on broken pieces of porcelain as they walked further into his office, but he said nothing. Instead, he sank to his knees beside the desk, in front of where the frame holding his only photograph of Sha'uri lay in shattered pieces.
"Daniel?"
Daniel tried to tune whoever it was out, intent on being miserable in peace, but they didn't go away. Before he knew it, someone was kneeling beside him, a hand rubbing his back comfortingly. Daniel flinched away, knowing that he didn't deserve the comfort either. The hand disappeared, but was replaced by another one, this one on his chin, moving his face to the left so that he could see who the hand belonged to. He was surprised to see Sam kneeling next to him, her expression one of worry and fatigue. He hadn't expected anyone to come see him, not even Sam.
"Daniel, please talk to me. I can't begin to imagine what you're going through and I'll never know unless you tell me. Please," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
He watched her expression for signs of hate and saw none. How could that be? He'd failed Sam as much as he'd failed everyone else, so why wasn't she running away from him? Daniel didn't fail to notice the bandage on Sam's forehead and the accompanying bruises or the sling holding her left arm in place, nor how her eyes were rimmed with red from fatigue and crying. He'd done all that to her.
"There's nothing to talk about," Daniel said softly. He pulled his head away from Sam's hand and watched as it dropped back to her side. "It was my fault. All of it was my fault, Sam. All of those lives lost on the planet…all of the innocents, their lives are in my hands."
He picked up the broken remains of Sha'uri's picture, not feeling when the broken shards of glass dug into his palm, drawing blood.
"It wasn't your fault, Daniel. There was no way you could have known," Sam insisted, her voice as steady as she could make it.
"But there was!" Daniel insisted. He raised his index finger to try to explain to her, but lowered it again when he saw blood running down it and onto his hand. "It was in the writings, Sam. It was all there, I just didn't translate them correctly. It took Dr. Lovell one look at the writings to figure out what had gone wrong, what I had missed. Lovell, for God's sake! The woman is inexperienced and has never been on an SG team. But she figured it out right away."
"It wasn't done on purpose. You didn't mistranslate the writings because you wanted to," Sam said. "You can't beat yourself up over this."
Daniel shook his head, immediately dismissing her words.
"There are hundreds dead on the planet because of my mistake and Jack and Teal'c are close to it in the infirmary. And look at me, hardly a scratch! All I got is this gash that probably won't even leave a scar," Daniel said. The last statement came out broken, as a sob that finally found its way loose. "I should be the one in a coma, Sam, not Jack. Teal'c's symbiote will heal him, but who is going to help Jack?"
"The colonel did what he had to do," Sam insisted. Her gaze never left him, even though he couldn't look at her. "He wanted to protect those people and the rest of his team, and he did that to the best of his ability. We all know the risks when we step through the Stargate, Daniel. Jack and Teal'c understood that. I understand that as well. Now I only hope that you do."
Daniel tore his eyes away from the broken glass on the floor and finally looked at Sam, his gaze steely.
"I know that you understand the risks! In the end, it's what's going to get all of you killed…" Daniel trailed off and looked away from Sam, unable to further meet her gaze. "I can't let you do that anymore, Sam. I can't do that to Jack and Teal'c either. It has to be this way."
"What way, Daniel? What are you saying?" Sam asked, confusion evident in her voice.
"It just has to be this way… now if you could, please leave me alone. I have stuff to do," Daniel said, his voice regaining the harsh tone it had before Sam had entered the office. "Please close the door behind you."
Daniel didn't see as much as hear Sam sigh deeply. She reached out and patted him on the back once more, before leaving the office, closing the door behind her.
Once she was gone, Daniel let his gaze fall back towards the picture of his dead wife. He lifted the photo, cradled it to his chest and finally allowed the sobs to break free.
**~~**
"Dr. Jackson?"
The voice interrupted Daniel's tortured memories like a lightning bolt, sending him reeling. He opened his eyes, which he hadn't realize he'd closed, and quickly lifted his head, while setting Sha'uri's picture aside. He found himself staring at the face of the redheaded student from his eleven o'clock class, the one who had asked him several questions during his lecture.
"I'm very sorry, Dr. Jackson, I didn't mean to interrupt. I know that you don't have office hours right now, but…" She trailed off as she noticed how his blue eyes shone brightly with unshed tears. Maybe it hadn't really been a good idea to come after all. She looked down to his desk and saw the photo of the beautiful woman he'd put aside and she wondered what she had interrupted. "I'll just come back some other time," she said and turned to leave when his voice stopped her.
"No, it's okay," he said, quickly blinking away the tears. "I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"
The young lady smiled shyly and took the chair in front of Daniel's desk. "I'm Alison Marsh, and I'm in your eleven o'clock Linguistics class. I just wanted to come by and ask you a few questions. I know that I should have probably waited until your office hours, but I had some time during lunch," she explained. She glanced at the professor and noticed that his eyes were still directed towards the picture on his desk.
"She's lovely."
The observation caught Daniel off-guard, since he had been listening to what Ms. Marsh was saying, but not looking at her. He smiled slightly as he glanced back up at her. "Yes, she is."
"Who is she?"
Daniel swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "My wife," he answered softly.
Alison's eyes widened. She hadn't realized that Dr. Jackson was married.
"Is she an archaeologist too?" Alison asked, honestly curious about the man who was known throughout UCLA as the loner.
Daniel shook his head. "No, she isn't," he explained. Somehow, 'she's from another planet' wouldn't quite cut it as an explanation, so Daniel decided to tell her what was sure to stop the flow of questions. "She was killed a year and a half ago."
"Oh," Alison said. No wonder he'd been close to tears while looking at the picture. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
Daniel nodded, glad to have stopped that conversation from getting into dangerous ground. "Thank you. Now what can I do for you, Ms. Marsh?" he asked, granting the young lady his full attention.
He knew who she was, because she always made it a point to ask for clarification when needed and wasn't afraid to ask questions or voice her opinion. She wasn't exceptional when it came to languages, but she was intelligent and a hard worker. Her grade in the class so far was average and if he could help her achieve more, he'd be happy to.
"I just wanted to talk to you about today's lecture. I've read through the textbook and there wasn't much material on the origin of languages or on your technique of finding the patterns. I was wondering if there were other books available so that I could read more on the subject," Alison stated. "I'm afraid that I'm having a little trouble recognizing the patterns, especially in ancient Egyptian writings, and I want to make sure that I do everything I can to learn it correctly."
Daniel nodded, impressed with Alison's work ethic. He got up from the desk and walked over to the bookshelf, glad to have a distraction for the demons that kept popping up on him at the most inopportune moments.
"I have several books that I can recommend," he said. "Let me find them."
And Daniel Jackson proceeded to do what he did best: teach.
**~~**
"What a lovely planet we have here," Jack O'Neill quipped as he and the rest of his team made their way through the dense forest in search of any signs of life. "To the right, we have some big trees," he said, extending his arm to the right as if showcasing the trees. He waved his hand up and down along the tree trunk, showing off all of its attributes. "It's big, it's brown, it's sturdy, and it's sure to give you plenty of shade from those two annoying suns shinning in the sky," he pointed out in his best game show host imitation. "To the left, we have some even bigger trees and right in front of us, well what do you know, more trees!"
Sam Carter snickered softly from where she walked a few feet to the colonel's left. She watched his eyebrows move on his face, as if he were pointing out the most important thing in the world. She caught Teal'c raise an eyebrow in amusement, while Captain Michaels just frowned in confusion. She loved being on SG-1, because she knew that no mission would ever be boring as long as Jack O'Neill was around.
"It could be worse, Sir," she pointed out, not yet entirely comfortable in joining her CO in his small rants. However, ever since Daniel had left, there had been no one else to join in, so she'd started doing it. At first, she was afraid of unknowingly stepping over some line and insulting her commanding officer, but Colonel O'Neill had made it clear that he appreciated her involvement in his rants. "We could be stuck in the middle of some mindless game show where the jackpot was all the trees you could ever want."
"Ahh, yes," Jack said, turning to her and giving her a beaming smile. "But at least then, I'd get to say 'I'll take door number three'," Jack pointed out. "And we'd definitely be inside and away from all this sun and these bugs."
They had been walking through the dense forest for three hours without any signs of civilization. The walk was considerable and it made Jack wonder why the inhabitants of this planet would erect a temple to one of their goddesses and place it so far away from them.
"Say, Michaels, don't worshippers usually situate their places of worship where they can be reached in a short amount of time?" Jack asked suddenly, startling the linguist.
Jason turned his head to regard his commanding officer, confusion plain on his face from the quick change of subject.
"Yes, Sir. In most cultures, centers of worship are placed in a central location where they can be easily accessible."
"Why didn't these people?" Sam wondered. "We've been walking through this forest for almost three hours and we've found nothing. If the villagers wanted a centrally located temple, they sure miscalculated where they built the one we just left."
"You have a point, Major," Michaels replied. "I can't explain why we haven't come to any villages yet. Unless we simply walked in the wrong direction and should have headed south instead of north."
"The Stargate is to the south, Captain Michaels," Teal'c pointed out. "We traversed that area when we arrived and did not see any villages."
"That is correct, Teal'c. All I meant was that maybe the villages are in another direction".
"Okay, so then we should do what, head east?" Jack asked, glancing at each team member in turn.
"If Captain Michaels is correct, then we have already traveled too far and will not find any villages here," Teal'c replied. "Heading in a new direction would be the logical choice."
"I agree, Sir. Maybe we'll have better luck somewhere else," Sam added.
"All right, then. East it is," Jack decided and began to walk in that general direction.
****
They had walked through the endless forest for two hours and had still found no signs of civilization.
"What are the odds of there being a temple with absolutely no villages around?" Jack asked no one in particular.
"The planet could be uninhabited O'Neill," Teal'c supplied.
"True, but Captain Michaels said that the temple was still in use, therefore we must assume that someone is here," Jack pointed out.
"Yes, but where?" Sam asked, but was not given a chance to hear a reply.
Suddenly, they heard sounds of rustling vegetation from behind them. Jack immediately whirled around, his MP-5 in his hands. He heard the rest of his team drawing their weapons and relaxed slightly, knowing that they were well armed and hopefully well equipped to handle any threat from the locals.
"Looks like we've found our locals," Michaels whispered to Sam, his own MP- 5 in his hands.
"Look sharp, kids," Jack said.
He slowly moved to his right, positioning himself behind one of the huge trees that formed the forest, motioning for the others to do the same. He saw them comply and once he was satisfied that the others were covered, he turned back towards the direction of the sound. Jack strained his ears and heard more vegetation being disturbed. He thought he heard voices, but he couldn't be sure. He listened for a while longer and he became sure that there were voices, speaking in a language that he couldn't understand.
'This is an alien planet, O'Neill, of course you don't understand the language' Jack told himself.
He motioned for the others to fall back a few paces and quickly followed them. He made his way over to Sam, who was crouched behind a medium sized tree. Ten feet to their left, Teal'c waited with Michaels.
"Can you hear that, Carter?" Jack whispered.
Sam turned her head slightly so that she could hear the voices better. Her eyes widened suddenly at what she heard. At the same instant, Jack saw Teal'c turn towards him, what passed for alarm for the Jaffa clearly on his face.
"That's Goa'uld, Sir," Sam replied. She turned to get confirmation from Teal'c, who simply nodded his agreement.
"Shit. We need to go back to the Stargate before they see us. We're not in any position to defend ourselves now, not against that many of them," Jack said as the few voices got closer, then multiplied until about thirty Jaffa could be heard and seen through the cover of the trees. They were marching in their direction along a path that SG-1 had not encountered yet. The Jaffa were about fifteen feet to their left, close enough to spot them if they were to bother looking.
The decision made, Jack turned toward the direction of the Stargate, motioning for the rest of his team to walk ahead of him. He was about to step forward, when a voice stopped him cold.
"Tau'ri, kree!" the Jaffa yelled at them.
His momentary paralysis broken, Jack dove towards the cover of the nearest tree.
"Take cover!" he yelled and then positioned himself and fired at the Jaffa who had spoken, who was standing only a few feet in front of Jack. He couldn't understand how their position had been found, unless the Jaffa had known all along that they were there and had waited until now to confront them. He heard the discharge of the other MP-5s and knew that the rest of his team was doing their best to defend themselves and retreat towards the Stargate. Jack saw Teal'c firing his staff weapon at anyone who got near him, and saw Sam and Michaels doing the same with their weapons. Jack took care of himself as best he could, while moving slowly towards where he thought the Stargate was.
He quickly dove for cover again as a staff blast sailed over his head, impacting the tree behind him. He rolled to his feet as another blast narrowly missed his left leg. Jack fired his weapon, taking out the Jaffa before he got a chance to fire again. He stepped back quickly, intent on putting as much space as he could between himself and the dead Jaffa, when his ankle twisted painfully, causing him to lose his balance and fall. When Jack hit the ground, he felt the soft soil underneath him give way and barely had time to reach out to grab a low hanging branch before the ground fell away, revealing a steep drop to a ravine a few dozen feet below him. Jack forgot his grip on his weapon; instead he grabbed at the branch and hoped that it would hold his weight. He desperately tried to swing himself onto firmer ground, but was rewarded only with the snapping of the branch, sending him down to meet the ground of the ravine.
He looked up as he fell, and watched as the tree he'd been holding on to grew smaller and smaller. He knew what was in store for him and unconsciously, closed his eyes so that he wouldn't see what he would surely feel. His last thought before his body hit the ground below was of his team. He hoped that they could get away, back to the Stargate and back to Earth.
****
Consciousness returned slowly.
At first, he wasn't sure where he was or what had happened. He didn't know much of anything, except that his head hurt and that he felt incredibly nauseous. He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to be assaulted by the bright light of the suns. Instead, he experienced only slight discomfort as his eyes struggled to focus on his surroundings. It wasn't quite nightfall yet, but the suns were quickly disappearing into the horizon. Jack turned his head to the right and saw that he was at the bottom of the ravine. He looked up and could see the tree he'd been holding onto. He supposed that was a good thing, because it meant that he hadn't fallen that far.
Slowly, Jack moved his extremities, trying to feel for broken bones. He winced when his knees flared up as he moved his legs, but was relieved when he felt no sharp, mind numbing pain as he moved his arms and legs. He felt slight pain and discomfort in his back, but nothing severe. He'd felt worse after a particularly strenuous workout back home. His ribs were intact and aside from the pounding in his head, Jack counted himself lucky.
He got himself up to a sitting position and only then noticed that he'd landed in the middle of what appeared to be a bed of flowers. They were bright pink, dotted every now and then with a yellow or white center. They looked like sunflowers, except for the odd colors. Jack reached down and into the flowerbed, surprised to find that it was thick and spongy. No wonder he hadn't severely hurt himself. The soft soil and equally soft flowers had served to break his fall.
"Thank heaven for small favors," Jack muttered to himself as he carefully got to his feet, wincing as his head did several loops before settling once again on top of his neck.
He blinked rapidly, willing his body into motion. He lifted his head, immediately trying to find a way out of the ravine and back to where the rest of his team was. By the look of things, several hours had passed since he'd fallen. The thought brought a sick feeling into Jack's stomach, because a lot could happen in a few hours. He had to get back to his team and see how they were.
After several failed attempts, Jack managed to grab onto a vine and pull himself up and out of the ravine. He glanced down as the remaining sunlight drifted away and once again counted himself lucky for landing where he had. A little more to the left and he could have been paralyzed.
He shook his head to clear the pessimistic thoughts and immediately regretted it when he became nauseous and disoriented. He recognized those as clear signs of a concussion and knew that he had to get his team and get them all back home very soon. Once the nausea had subsided, Jack looked around and started walking towards the direction where he'd last seen Teal'c, his MP-5 held in front of him. He moved carefully and quietly, hoping not to attract any unwanted attention.
When he reached the spot he was sure he'd seen Teal'c, Jack stopped and stared at the ground. There was no sign of Teal'c or any of the other Jaffa he had seen a few hours earlier. He raised his head and looked around some more, seeing nothing that would indicate a battle had taken place there. Jack couldn't even find the discarded casings from the bullets that he knew they'd fired. Why would the Jaffa that attacked them want to cover up the fact that a battle had been fought? What were they trying to hide? It was almost as if they were cleaning up so that anyone else who came back to the planet would think it was uninhabited and leave.
Jack walked a few feet forward and then stopped, once again looking around the area. There was nothing. No sign of a fight, no sign of a struggle. More distressing, there was no sign of his team. Jack fought down the rising panic and methodically walked through the area he was sure they'd covered when the Jaffa had began their attack, but once again found nothing.
How could that be? He couldn't find the Jaffa that had attacked them, nor could he find where they'd come from. There were still no signs of villages or any other dwellings, nor where there any caves or other hiding places.
As quickly as his battered body allowed, Jack extended the perimeter of his search until several more hours had passed. In his extended search, he'd managed to come across a few broken branches and slightly trampled flowerbeds, but nothing to give him any clues on the whereabouts of his missing team members. Darkness had finally descended upon the now calm surface of the planet, severely limiting Jack's ability to continue his search. Since he couldn't do anything for his team by himself, he decided that the best thing to do was to go back to Earth and get reinforcements.
Jack started walking back towards the Stargate, hoping that the three other members of SG-1 had made it back there. He knew that they wouldn't have willingly left him, not unless they had been retreating. Even then, they could still be around the Stargate, all he had to do was get there and find them.
With renewed determination, Jack started making his way back towards the Stargate, hoping that he'd find familiar faces when he got there.
****
"Unscheduled incoming traveler."
The announcement brought George Hammond out of his train of thought. Immediately, his stomach clenched in worry as it always did when a similar alarm blared through the base. He'd learned in his years of working at the SGC and anything and everything could happen and he was better off being prepared. Hammond quickly got up from his chair and walked towards the control room to see just who was knocking on his door.
"It's SG-1, Sir," the sergeant on duty stated as soon as he spotted the general.
"They're not due to report back for two more days," Hammond commented to himself. "Open the iris," he commanded the sergeant and then walked down the remaining flight of stairs and made it quickly to the embarkation room to await his premier team. His stomach clenched even tighter in worry now that he knew that SG-1 was involved. They rarely reported in early, unless something had happened. George just hoped that it wasn't anything too terribly serious.
He stood directly in front of the Stargate, watching the blue pool shimmer lazily. After a short while, a solitary figure emerged from the gate, before the gate winked out of existence, signaling that there were no more travelers en route.
"Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked. He saw Jack turn towards him, clearly disoriented and limping slightly. "What happened?"
Jack blinked at the general, trying to get the man to stop spinning in his vision. He looked around, hoping to see Sam or Teal'c waiting for him. His stomach clenched in dread when he realized that they weren't there.
"Where is the rest of SG-1?" Hammond asked.
Jack's eyes widened momentarily, his pessimistic thoughts having just been confirmed to him.
"They didn't make it back before me?" Jack asked, his voice eerily quiet in the huge room.
"No, Colonel, they didn't. What happened?"
Jack sighed and walked down the ramp to where the general was standing. Slowly, then with renewed intensity, Jack told his commanding officer what had happened.
"Captain Michaels had no idea what was in the temple or what the inscriptions said?" Hammond asked.
Jack clenched his jaw, once again fighting that old anger that came with being reminded of the teammate that he'd lost.
"He knew some of it, but couldn't decipher everything, Sir," Jack replied. "What he did tell us led us to believe that there was no trouble on the planet, just some worshippers. We didn't expect any Jaffa."
Jack watched the general take everything in, then made his decision.
"Permission to take units 2 and 3 and return to the planet, sir. The rest of my team is still there and I want to find them."
General Hammond shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Colonel. You've been injured and you're going straight to the infirmary. After that, we'll see. I will, however, send units 2 and 7 to the planet to have a look around. Dr. Harrison is a skilled linguist and might pick up something that Captain Michaels missed."
"I should be with them, sir. It's my team out there."
"You're no good to anyone if you can't stand straight, Colonel," Hammond said, watching Jack. "Now you either get yourself to the infirmary, or I will have you escorted there."
"Yes, sir, I'm on my way," Jack grumbled and began to walk out of the embarkation room.
Hammond stood at the base of the ramp and watched the colonel go, hoping that the rest of SG-1 would be found safe and unharmed.
****
48 hours later found the SGC just as confused about the fate of the remaining members of SG-1 as they'd been when the three had first disappeared.
George Hammond made his way to the infirmary, his jaw set and his shoulders squared in defiance and determination. Anyone who saw him immediately recognized the general's attitude and wisely stayed out of his way. To an outside observer, the general was the epitome of calm. It served well to mask the uneasiness, worry, and doubt that churned within him.
SG-2 and SG-7 had returned from PTX-612 eight hours after they'd left Earth. They had been unable to find anything to indicate that SG-1 had ever been on the planet, much less any indication of where the three missing members of the team had been taken. This greatly concerned the general, because the fact that the Jaffa that attacked SG-1 had so thoroughly cleaned their tracks could only mean that they were concealing something.
'Or someone,' George thought. 'These people are not in the habit of inhabiting planets on their own, because some Goa'uld always holds their leash. The question is, which one is it this time?'
To make matters worse, neither Dr. Harrison of SG-7 nor Dr. Meyers of SG- 11, who had visited the planet with her team and SG-15, had been able to completely translate the writings on the temple walls. They, along with Captain Michaels of SG-1, were the best linguists currently at the SGC. If they couldn't do the work, who else was there?
'There is someone else,' George thought as he rounded the last corridor that led to the infirmary. 'I just have to get him back here.'
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I should have paid more attention to where I was going."
The feminine voice broke Hammond out of his thoughts and he glanced down at the petite doctor he'd run into.
"It's my fault," he said, slightly embarrassed that he'd run into her. "How is Colonel O'Neill?"
Janet smiled, but there was very little humor in it.
"Let me guess, he's been insufferable, demanding that you let him out of here?" the general guessed.
"Yes, sir, something like that. However, the injury he sustained on PTX- 612, while not life threatening, was severe enough to give him a concussion, which is why I insisted that he remain in the infirmary. He seems to be doing better, at least physically."
Hammond nodded his understanding of the situation. "Doctor, is the Colonel well enough to travel?"
Janet looked quizzically at the general, but when it became apparent that no answer was forthcoming, she gave him her answer.
"If you're going to send him off-world, I recommend that someone stay with him at all times, just in case. Gate travel is pretty intense and it might aggravate his concussion."
"I don't intend to send him off world, Dr. Fraiser, but I do intend to put him on a plane." He wasn't being deliberately misleading, he just didn't want to talk about his plan until it had already been set in motion. He wasn't a superstitious man by any stretch, but he did believe in operating with caution.
"He should be okay on a plane, sir."
"Thank you, Doctor. I won't keep you any longer," he said to her, then made his way into the infirmary and towards the bed where Colonel O'Neill lay.
As the general got closer, he got a better look at the colonel. The man looked pale and very tired. His shoulders were tense and his fists were tightly clenched, which was a good indication that the man wasn't sleeping. It had been hard keeping the colonel in the infirmary and he'd been forced to order the man to stay put. Hammond understood the colonel's need to be out there, looking for his team. However, he wasn't going to do anyone, least of all himself, any good if he wasn't operating at 100 percent.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the general said as he took a seat on a chair beside the colonel's bed. He waited for a beat, before the younger man's eyes opened and settled on the general.
"Sir. Do you have any news about my team?" the colonel asked, his voice soft and laced with worry.
"I'm afraid not, Colonel. The SG units found no signs of SG-1 and Drs. Harrison and Meyer were unable to complete the translation on the temple walls."
The colonel sighed, and then closed his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, and it became apparent to the general that the colonel was trying hard to contain his emotions.
"So that's it?" O'Neill finally spoke, his voice gaining intensity with each word. "My team is missing and I can't go looking for them. Everyone who has been out looking has come up empty handed," he paused and closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them and looking at the general. "Of all the brilliant linguists we have on staff here, you're telling me that no one can translate a simple wall? Isn't there anyone else we can send?"
The general took a deep breath, his own feelings of helplessness and anger echoing the colonel's. He held the younger man's eyes, conveying to him that he did understand the situation and what he was going through. Hammond only hoped that it was enough.
"The only other person on staff that we could send is Captain Michaels…"
"Yeah, and he's missing," Jack finished for him. "Besides, Michaels wasn't able to completely translate the writings in the first place."
"There is someone else, Jack," Hammond said, keeping his eyes on the colonel.
Jack's' eyes narrowed in confusion. "I thought you said we'd already sent the best the SGC had to offer."
"The person I'm referring to is not at the SGC, at least not anymore," Hammond commented, waiting to see how long it would take the colonel to figure out who he was talking about. It didn't take very long. Jack's frown deepened and he looked away from the general, shaking his head.
"He won't come back, sir. He was pretty determined to leave," Jack said, his voice taking on a far away quality, as if he were remembering something painful.
"How do you know that, Colonel? Are you sure Dr. Jackson wouldn't come back, or do you think he wouldn't be able to translate the writings?"
Jack's gaze returned to the general. "I have no doubt about Daniel's linguistic abilities, no matter what he thinks," Jack said. "However, I don't think he'd come back."
"Not even to help his friends?"
Hammond saw the emotions flicker across the colonel's eyes, knowing how hard it was for Jack to talk about Dr. Jackson. The two had never discussed it, but the general knew that the archaeologist's resignation had not been easy on the colonel.
"I really don't know, General."
"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to find out, Colonel. You leave for Los Angeles first thing tomorrow morning."