The Conquered Divide

By marzipan77

GEN SG-1 NO pairings.

Tag to Divide and Conquer – begins immediately after the last scene. So, yeah, there are some mentions of *shudders* het. There are real-world equivalent consequences to Colonel Jack and Major Sam's admissions during Zatarc testing. Some decisions are made, some weaknesses exploited. Consider it an AU if you like as things might have proceeded differently from there on.

Warnings: Angst, H/C, some whump, some not-so-nice-to-Sam moments. But, a gen, teamy fic at the heart of it!

Chapter 1

Daniel stood silently, breath coming hard and fast, his adrenaline soaked mind barely able to take in the flood of action in the 'gate room. Gravity gripped him tight and held him against the metal ramp where he'd been thrown by Martouf's casual blow, his muscles frozen somewhere between a crouch and a lunge, eyes wide in disbelief. The energy beams screamed, impacting steel and concrete, bullets slammed into the Tok'ra's body, blood welling bright red against the sand colored tunic but barely evoking a flinch. And then a shout – two zats – and Sam was cradling Martouf's dead body in a howling silence.

Daniel found himself on his feet, Jack and Teal'c standing close beside him, the Tok'ra, the Secret Service, Hammond – he blinked, coughed, pressed his right hand against the sudden burning in his chest – it didn't make any sense.

He'd been speaking with Per'sus, trying to keep his mind on the treaty, on the required courtesies and small, meaningless exchanges that came with diplomacy while drowning in worry and fear for his teammates: Sam - drugged, restrained for God knew how long; and Jack – Daniel swallowed a grunt of pain – Jack undergoing the same mind-torture that had turned Lieutenant Astor into a frenzied, suicidal killing machine. Anise's procedure – untested, unproven – that could easily turn his best friend into a shell of his former self, slobbering and quivering in a corner.

Every breath stabbed at him now, and Daniel shook his head, willing his heart to slow, to accept that it was over – whatever 'it' had been - his fingers smoothing his tie down against his dress shirt, hands moving independently of his brain to adjust his jacket, brush away imaginary blood stains and scorch marks. It had been the 'gate tech – Alberts – who had whispered in his ear, warned him that Martouf could be a zatarc, told him to try to draw the Tok'ra aside. Then all hell had broken loose.

Relief swept in to replace the rush of fear. Jack and Sam were awake, alive, and armed, so the assumption that they'd been zatarcs must have been wrong. Janet was there now, leaning over Sam, her white-coated minions hustling the dead body of the Tok'ra onto a gurney. Sam's eyes followed Martouf until his body disappeared down the corridor, an honor guard of Tok'ra striding stiffly on either side. Anise and Janet held a hurried conversation with Hammond before the Tok'ra woman stepped away to follow the medical team. And Martouf. Dead. Just like that.

Sam rose stiffly to her feet as the general and the doctor approached, the hand Daniel offered to her ignored, and then it was the six of them at the base of the ramp, a circle of barely restrained tension amidst the blue, buttoned-down, cautious puffery of the negotiating teams standing idly by, but Daniel couldn't seem to understand his colleagues' muttered words. He tried to clear his throat, pressing his hand against his chest as if he could smother the pain there.

"Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter –" Hammond's voice was low, but his pale eyes snapped with anger. "You are to wait for me in the briefing room. I'll expect a full and complete report on this matter as soon as I've been briefed by Doctor Frasier."

"Sir, I'd like to-"

Daniel felt Jack shift his weight as if he wanted to lunge forward to intercept Sam's words.

Hammond's fierce glance slapped at her. "Major Carter, you will follow my orders."

Daniel's sympathetic wince set off a searing pain that leapt across his chest to lodge in his right shoulder. To his left, Jack straightened.

"Yes, Sir."

The colonel was clearly answering for both of them. Protect. Defend. Jack was standing so stiff at Daniel's side, so remote, every inch the military colonel that Daniel almost turned his head to see if the buzz cut and bleak expression from their very first meeting was back.

The general's lips were no more than a thin, white slash across his face as he turned away – his dismissal cutting. "Teal'c, please go up to the surface and take charge of the President's security detail. Frankly, I don't think I'd trust his safety to anyone else right now."

The Jaffa warrior bowed, hands clasped behind him, and then, suddenly, he was gone.

"Doctor Jackson."

Daniel blinked, dragging his gaze back into focus. "Yes – yes. Sorry, General." His face felt hot.

Hammond took a half step closer, moving into the space Jack had vacated. When had he … and Sam … they'd gone …

"Doctor Jackson. I need you to hold things together down here. Soothe any ruffled feathers about the President's stand-in with the Tok'ra."

Daniel's attention wandered – again – drifting over the general's left shoulder to the patrician face of the Tok'ra High Councilor, Per'sus. The Tok'ra's eyes were bright, his piercing gaze aimed at Daniel, brows just starting to curl inward in concern as the scene around Daniel wavered, colorless; the words falling around him like dust.

What … something else …

"Look, son-"

Daniel glanced down, surprised, at the large-knuckled hand on his arm.

"- I know you have questions, but this treaty is too important to –"

"It's okay," Daniel whispered, his throat almost too full for the words to slip past. He started to turn, to sweep away the remaining carnage from Martouf's attack, to gather up his lost diplomatic sheep, but the twisting movement broke something in his chest and he gasped, staggering backwards.

Something struck his back and he heard the choked cry before he realized it was his. Was someone else attacking? Another zatarc? Per'sus – the President – he had to warn them. A hand pressed against his shoulder and he couldn't catch the scream behind his teeth.

Voices ebbed and flowed, faces in and out of focus above him. Above? He turned his head and felt the concrete floor scrape against his cheek.

"Len'At – the healing device."

Double – double vision – double hearing? The words were deep and resonant, warm breath colored by an odd scent fluttering his lashes. He opened his eyes.

Per'sus' face loomed just a few inches from his own, the Tok'ra leader's bland, even-tempered expression transformed into one of imperious command, impatience – anger – arrogant disbelief chased across the wide, grey eyes, turning them to gold. Daniel's body tensed to escape, but the sudden bright glow that hovered over him sent out strands of control that fused with his muscles and surrounded his churning thoughts with a soothing blanket of warm protectiveness. A moment later he drew in the first deep breath in recent memory and closed his eyes.

"High Councilor?"

That was Hammond on his left, his tone riding the edge of concern and teetering towards challenge. Daniel hoped he didn't try to stop the Tok'ra before he'd healed whatever was broken, whatever was keeping him from concentrating, from understanding what had happened around him.

"There are several broken bones in Doctor Jackson's chest, some have cut into muscle, into the connective tissue in his shoulder."

Per'sus' voice was still full of the Goa'uld intonation. Of course. Not double hearing, just the normal sound of a Tok'ra symbiote in control of his host. The fog was clearing.

"The greatest damage is to the covering of the heart. Please, bear with me, I must concentrate."

Bubbles seemed to be erupting in his chest, boiling and bursting beneath his sternum. It was as if he could hear pieces snapping into place like a jigsaw puzzle made of bone. He felt small, cool fingers against the pulse in his throat. Janet? When had she arrived?

His pain eased, seeming to flow back up into the golden light of the healing device, flow away from him, gathered up and pulled away – not disintegrating, no, more like it was riding the beam up into the outstretched hand above him. Eyes open wide, breathing slowing and deepening, Daniel watched Per'sus face pale, placid arrogance turning to lines of pain. Daniel's jagged, searing gasps dwindled and faded, the sounds around him falling into familiar patterns, and he realized that he could hear changes in the Tok'ra's own breathing. Heavy grunts and wheezing pants above him, bursts of air on his face, and then the barely audible whine of the Goa'uld device shut off.

"High Councilor Per'sus!"

"Ease him down there, let's get them both on gurneys and down to the infirmary."

Janet's voice. Boots shuffling, scraping against concrete. The clatter of wheels. Something warm lay all along his right side and Daniel turned his head, eyelids suddenly heavy, muscles loose and watery.

The Tok'ra's face was white, lines of tension radiating from his eyes and mouth. But his eyes were clear and staring into Daniel's.

"You will be well, Daniel," the High Councilor of the Tok'ra whispered. "Fear not."

He felt the frown start. Frustrated. His eyes kept slipping closed. "And you?"

A small smile tickled the firm lips. "And I. Sleep now."

That voice was as accustomed to giving orders as Jack's. Daniel smiled and obeyed.

oOo

Jack propped himself on the edge of the briefing room table, hands firmly in his pockets, staring out at the quiet normalcy of the 'gate room below. The Tok'ra Diplomacy Show had moved off to one of the conference rooms – probably the one they'd used when Thor had stupidly put Jack in charge of the whole 'protected planets' thing with Yu, Nerdy, and Cronic-Pain-in-His-Ass. He snorted. Per'sus and Daniel in the infirmary – yep, sounded like another round of SGC Jeopardy, 'I'll have 'Fucked-up Alien Treaties' for four-hundred, Alex.'

Carter was pacing. Still. They'd both witnessed Daniel's collapse and the Tok'ra's quick use of the healing device one of his guards had been packing. She'd started to hustle towards the stairs, but Jack had grabbed at one arm, holding her back.

"Sir! Daniel's in trouble!" Her eyes had been wide, disbelief clouding their blue depths to grey.

Yeah, no shit. And if she thought Jack would be anywhere but at Daniel's side without the furious orders of his CO pinning him in place, she was more screwed up than he'd thought. "And we've been given our orders, Major," he'd growled. No way was he going to put any more stress on his relationship with Hammond at the moment. The general was dealing with alien dignitaries, a visit from the President, for God's sake, two officers' brain-washing, four deaths, Jack's own bad judgment, and, now, this. He sure didn't need an excuse to blow and take Jack and Carter down with him. "I think we can trust Hammond and Janet to let us know what's going on as soon as they do."

"But-"

"Major Carter, stand down." Jack straightened, the command in his tone like a bell to Pavlov's dogs, pressing all of his second's military-polished buttons.

She nodded, frowning. "Yes, sir." Confused.

Hell, he could get behind that. Jack was pretty damn confused himself. That dog and pony show with Anise, Carter's whispered words, blue eyes all misty and soft, Teal'c's rigid disapproval leaving Jack practically black and blue. Before that – months of slow-sliding into the abyss. He rubbed both hands over his face and called himself every name in the book for letting it all happen. Ego. Fear. Distraction. Ego again. Sheer laziness. Whatever Hammond had to say to him now that it was all out in the open – he snorted softly, shaking his head. "Staying in the room." Yeah, right. Good news might travel fast, but the best kept dirty little secret would make its way around the SGC at better than light speed. Now that it was out, Hammond's hands would be tied. And that, more than anything else, would be pissing the man off royally.

After half an hour of silent introspection – which he hated, by the way - self-flagellation, pointing out every single mistake and misstep to his idiotic, clueless, hormone-driven inner adolescent, Jack had turned his back to Carter's equally clueless, denial-laden blue eyes and faced the utterly undeniable truth that, as soon as Hammond returned, Jack's military career could well be over. He dropped his chin to his chest and shut his eyes.

Consequences – what a bitch.

Heavy steps sounded on metal stairs, slow and deliberate, the echo ringing out like the tolling of bells. Death peals. Jack stood, tugging down on his jacket, lifting his chin, bracing his shoulders for the blows that would fall there. Yeah. Hammond's figure rose from the stairway, military authority draped around him, eyes cold and distant. That … boded well. Not.

This wasn't Hammond about to relay bad news about a teammate - about Daniel. No, this wasn't about whatever had sent Daniel to the infirmary with Janet trotting along on one side and the Tok'ra bigwig carted alone on the other.

This was worse.

"Colonel. Major."

The general stood at the end of the conference table, hands at his sides, inviting no familiarity.

Of course, Carter hadn't gotten that memo, either.

"Sir? What's going on with Daniel?" Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watched her reach towards the nearest chair as if ready to sink down into it.

"I do not remember giving you either permission to speak or permission to sit, Major Carter."

It was the softness, the iron undergirding the fatherly tone that woke her up, smacked 'situation normal' right down into 'all fucked up' in that brilliant mind. It slapped her spine straight and her eyes forward and her mouth shut, thank God.

It was the honest disappointment in George Hammond's eyes that made Jack's stomach churn.

Jack was a good, if old, soldier. He knew the time for self-analysis, for contemplating his own sad-assed behavior and his undisciplined shirking of his duty as Commanding Officer of SG-1 was over, for the moment. He stood, eyes front, face wiped clean of emotion, mind wiped clean of excuses, braced for the impact of the honest truth from this man who had all of crusty, cantankerous Jack O'Neill's respect and devotion. No, Jack knew it was time to shut up and take what was coming to him.

"It has been brought to my attention that my Second in Command, the leader of the SGC's premiere team and its first line of defense against alien threat to this planet, may be involved in an Unprofessional Relationship with a member of his command as described under Air Force Instruction 36-2909. Unless and until an investigation finds that this … relationship … has in no way compromised his command, created the appearance of favoritism, or that these officers have not once misused their offices and positions and the SGC's – and Earth's – organizational goals for their personal interests, Colonel Jack O'Neill and Major Samantha Carter are hereby relieved of duty."

Quoted word for word from the Air Force Regs – Jack could hear the capital letters; could feel them twist in his gut. He watched Hammond barely shift his shoulders, summoning the two SFs who were rigid with tension behind him, the weight of this situation grinding them down to simple order-followers – letter of the law guys. Any previous respect or friendship or thoughts of camaraderie gone. Good men. They'd get no beef from Jack.

"These men will accompany you to your offices and your lockers where you will collect any personal items you may require until this investigation is over. You will leave this base and have no communication with each other or with any other member of this command until you have received express permission. During this Administrative Leave, I will be interviewing both Teal'c and Doctor Jackson, as well as other SG team and base personnel – both military and civilian – concerning this matter in order to determine the appropriate level of administrative action."

The Frat Regs spiraled through Jack's mind. "Administrative actions include, but are not limited to, counseling, reprimand, creation of an unfavorable information file (UIF), removal from position, reassignment, demotion, delay of or removal from a promotion list, adverse or referral comments in performance reports, and administrative separation." Hammond would dot all the I's and cross all the T's. Now that this crap was out in the open, he had to – he had no choice. And he was clearly furious about it.

Teal'c would be honest – completely and brutally honest – without saying one thing that could possibly come back and bite either Jack or Carter. His loyalty wasn't to the Air Force or to the SGC, it was to Jack O'Neill and George Hammond and the individuals of SG-1 – his brothers in arms. But the Jaffa had eyes and ears, and he knew the kind of crap that Jack had been doling out over the past few months, had seen every single instance of bad judgment and worse attitude, and would place himself – the immovable, uncompromising rock of solid muscle and determination – to protect the person who had been – and would be – hurt the most by all this. Jack nodded to himself. He could count on Teal'c to be at Daniel's side when he and Carter disappeared behind the firmly slammed doors of Air Force regulations.

Only his years of discipline kept him from groaning out loud when he imagined Hammond's 'interview' with Daniel. The stubborn archaeologist's mind would start whirling, stacking up the evidence and instances of Jack's coldness, Carter's superiority-laced blow-offs, Jack's nastier than ever snark, every time he ignored Daniel's better judgment and went with Carter's facts and figures, every mile of distance between them as teammates and friends. Jack's cutting remarks in his own living room during the sting, Jack's thoughtless insults on Euronda. What did the regulations state? If a relationship caused "a degradation of morale, good order, discipline or unit cohesion, a commander or supervisor should take corrective action." Hell, yes. Where's the circle to fill in for 'All of the Above?'

And, knowing him, Daniel would be on the computer, looking up the letter of the law quicker than a rabbit on speed and putting together arguments and rationalizations that would get Jack and Carter out of the hot water they'd set to boil themselves, even if it curdled his own gut and singed his own morals. And still left him out in the cold.

Hammond's momentary hesitation and his fraction of a glance towards the SFs at his sides brought Jack back to focus. "For the moment, this leave will be classified as Medical Leave following the influence of alien technology. And I hope I do not have to tell you," Hammond continued, strict and unbending, "that I would be gratified to find that this … situation … was a misunderstanding due to the stress of the Zatarc attacks and the involvement of untested Tok'ra technology. The SGC is the very definition of a unique command, and, as such, I would be remiss if I did not take the time to consider … unlikely explanations for your behavior."

At least Jack's discipline had held him at stiff attention while his mind worked, never revealing his sudden flush of shame and relief. Nice 'out' the general was hinting about, hinting about with a big fat baseball bat to the back of his brain. George Hammond didn't want to see this, didn't want to break Jack's – and Carter's - careers over this, didn't want to destroy the foundation of the SGC and undercut every time he'd come out swinging on Jack's behalf. And if Jack screwed that up, well, searching Hammond's shuttered features he knew the general would be completely, undeniably ruthless.

"Thank you, sir," he replied, back straight, all soldier, catching a flickering trace of agreement behind his CO's icy stare.

"Dismissed."

The disdain in that one word sprayed along Jack's skin like scalding water. Turning neither right, nor left, he saluted, marched forward – his personal SF in tow – and made for the hills.

Behind him, he heard Carter trying – again. So used to having her own way. So used to being the golden child, the one everyone deferred to. His fault – all of it. Hammond slapped her down with a single breath and Jack increased his speed before she could disobey any other direct order by trying to talk to him.