Skipped Stones: Full Circle

by TereT

Was originally posted under TereC a decade ago, but evidently not here even though I'd posted the other two stories in the series then. Read Skipped Stones and Skipped Stones: Coming Home published under TereC before starting Full Circle. I am TereC.

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Title: Skipped Stones: Full Circle

AUTHOR: Tere T (search TereC for parts 1 and 2, Skipped Stones and Coming Home)
CATEGORY: Sam/Jack
SPOILERS: takes place after The Fifth Man, but there are spoilers for Abyss

SEASON / SEQUEL: Season 5 up to The Fifth Man; spoilers for S6 Abyss

RATING: MA for violence
SUMMARY: This is the conclusion to the Skipped Stones trilogy
STATUS: Complete
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The situations and original story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author.

NOTES: The spelling of Shallan comes from SG1_Transcripts, as pulled from the closed captioning of the episode.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this conclusion to my Skipped Stones trilogy over a decade ago and had it posted on a now-defunct Geocities webpage. All three parts of the Skipped Stones trilogy were also posted together at http:/tere_.com/ and can still be found there. I'm so sorry it was never published under my Tere C account—I thought it had gone up here. I swear by all that is holy I am Tere C and other than adding this note, I have made no changes to this conclusion over these ensuing years. In the decade since I last posted here under Tere C (or TereC) I've divorced, changed my surname, and returned to college full time to complete my bachelor's degree with a focus on professional writing. I also aspire to be a published fiction writer.

When Jack woke, he reached for Sam and found nothing but empty bed. Pushing himself upright, the rumpled sheets slipping and bunching at his waist, he realized he was alone.

"Carter?" he called, his voice hollow in the darkened room.

Gone.

Why wasn't he surprised?

Without warning, a wave of nausea washed over him. His head throbbed, an aching reminder of the transport ship crash he'd survived the day before. He winced as he gingerly touched the butterfly adhesives Fraiser used to close the gash to his head.

God, he hated concussions—even mild ones. Switching on the bedside lamp, he grimaced against the light and sucked a slow, steady breath between his teeth to quell the queasiness. A glass of water rested on the nightstand. Carter must have left it for him. Beside it, a bottle of acetaminophen and a note.

Janet said to take two when you woke. Couldn't sleep—working in lab. Carter.

Why wasn't he surprised?

She was probably breaking the land-speed record for solving unsolvable problems to get them home following what he had said in the early morning hours after yet another close call with death. Damn him and his fool big mouth.

All he could do now was suck it up and move on, see what he could salvage of his relationship with Carter, and then get back to work. They'd been okay this long by not knowing completely the other's true feelings.

But, then he had to open his mouth. That funky taste in it was probably his foot.

Wasn't it wonderful how things that sounded so right in the dark changed to crap the next day?

He knew they both had been feeling feelings and, though the feelings felt right, they were so wrong on so many levels. Right or wrong, he'd stumbled heart first in love with her.

Even though he had said it didn't matter, her reluctance to speak following his foolhardy confession of love stung. She was attracted to him. That much was obvious. She cared, too. He could tell. But, as much as he enjoyed holding her, being with her, anything more had to be her choice.

He realized, too, not only did he love her, he loved her enough to let her go, if that was what she needed. So long as she was happy, that's all that would matter.

His stomach began to rebel again. Groaning, Jack pushed out of the bed and grabbed his boots. A good strong cup of commissary coffee would help, though a tall glass of orange juice would probably be better for him. Or dry toast. Dry toast would work, too.

The muted sound of voices drifted down the corridor, along with the distinct music of Carter's laugh. Jack paused at the open door for a moment to assess the scene. Sam and Daniel worked side by side, her hand lightly resting on his arm. The knot in his stomach tightened at her familiarity with this Daniel, the one who'd been her alter's husband.

When he finally sauntered into Sam's lab, Jack asked, "So, you two figure out how we're going to get home yet?"

Both Sam and Daniel looked up from the computer where they were huddled together. Sam smiled slightly at him, while Daniel suddenly put some space between the two.

"Hi, Jack. How are you feeling?" Daniel asked.

"Not much better than you look, Daniel. Have you gotten any sleep?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you look like hell."

"My wife just died, I think I have a right."

"And you have a right to get some rest, too. Trust me, Daniel, I've been there. Have you even slept since Sam and I bounced here?

Daniel looked to Sam, his face coloring slightly remembering dozing while holding her when Jack had been missing following Jacob's rescue. "A couple of hours. We've got it planned to find the mirror and get you home."

"You're not going anywhere near that gate until you've gotten at least 8 hours, Daniel. Got that?"

"Can't order me, Jack. I'm a—"

"Civilian, I know, but don't think I won't get Fraiser after your ass."

"Fine, after we fill you in."

"Sam can do that without you. The sooner you go down, the sooner we get outta here."

Daniel glared at him and clamped his mouth shut tightly, as if he were trying to choke back a retort.

"He's right, Daniel," Sam spoke softly, "Even though the MALP scan looked like the place was still deserted, who knows what we may find there."

"Fine. If you need me . . ."

"Good night, Daniel," Jack said, irritation evident in his voice.

Daniel brushed past him, angrily bumping shoulders with Jack when he left the lab.

Sam watched the exchange, and then locked eyes with him, letting the silence settle upon the room before she spoke. "You were kind of harsh there, don't you think?

Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Colonel?"

"No, woke up in a cold bed, Major."

Her cheeks pinked, evidently remembering the intimacies they'd shared the night before. "Oh, yeah, well . . . about that."

"About?"

"What was said—what you said, I—"

"What I said?" he repeated, innocence painting his face. "I said something last night?"

"You don't remember that—"

Jack pointed to the butterfly adhesives on his forehead. "Head injury. Short term memory stuff, ya know? I don't remember much after stumbling through the gate."

He kept his face passive, despite the reaction he saw on hers as he effectively erased his words from the night before. Well, better that than hearing her say they had to leave his confession in another damned room in this facility. It never happened might be easier than hearing her say to forget about it.

"Jack?" she challenged.

"How are we getting home, major?"

She stared at him, her deep blue eyes moist, a look of frustration and hurt flashing momentarily before she hid behind a mask of professionalism.

After leaving Sam's lab, Daniel wandered through the SGC, considering all that had happened in the last week. He hadn't even had time to deal with losing both his wife and his friend.

Despite his grief, he was fascinated at the thought that such a thing as a quantum mirror existed. His thoughts raced with the possibilities that a quantum mirror opened up. To actually see how different key events could, quite literally, change the course of history, such as multiverses existing in which his wife would be alive. It was almost more than he could fathom.

While Jack had slept, he and Sam had reviewed his world's copy of the Abydos cartouche for P3R233, the planet where SG-1 had found the quantum mirror in their "reality."

Hopefully, the mirror would be where they'd found it four years ago. If not, it would be difficult, if not outright impossible, for Sam and Jack to return to their reality, dimension, whatever.

Working closely with her had been remarkable, to say the least. She was and wasn't Sam. Her thought processes, her humor, what made her her, all of that was the same. But, she was so much more contained, more intense, than his wife had been.

He could only suppose the differences between the two stemmed from this Sam's choices in her personal relationships and in not having had a maternal influence—Jacob had told him that in Sam's reality Grace had been killed.

Lost in his thoughts, he continued to roam, knowing he should do as Jack suggested and get some rest, but stubbornly refusing to out of principle. Eventually, he ended up at the commissary doors.

Pushing open the doors, he made a beeline for the coffee machine and poured a cup. The pungent aroma of the hot drink tickled his nose and he inhaled deeply. Coffee was a comfort food for him. It never failed to soothe.

The hot coffee burned slightly as Daniel noisily sipped it, drawing air into his mouth at the same time to cool the liquid. As he did so, he scanned the room for a quiet spot. At a table in the far corner, a lone figure sat, head bowed, absently twirling a cup that sat on the table, seemingly oblivious of anything else.

He paused for a moment, trying to decide if he should go to her. He took a deep breath and walked over.

"Hi Janet," he ventured. "Mind if I sit down?"

She glanced up with troubled eyes, and it appeared as if she would answer negatively. Then with a slight shrug she answered, "Sure why not?"

The chair scraped noisily across the floor when Daniel pulled it out. He plopped in it while Janet's gaze returned to an apparently empty cup. An awkward silence ensued.

"So…it's been a week, huh?" she finally said, sorrow thick in her voice.

"Ya think?" he said absently, not realizing he'd used one of Jack's favorite sayings. Janet looked up at him, smiling briefly at the words. "So…how are you doing?"

"I feel like I've been drop kicked into the end-zone." Suddenly she looked up at Daniel. "God, we seem to be channeling Jack, don't we?" She laughed bitterly. "How can we channel someone who's still here?"

"I know it's hard, but they really aren't ours—they only look the same, but they're quite different," Daniel said. "This Sam may look and sound like my wife, but she's not. I can see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She's not mine."

"You have to admit . . . "

"Yeah, the past few days have been kind of rough. I can't deny that."

"That's putting it mildly," she stated.

"I was so sure at first it was a miracle—that somehow they'd had survived. But, I had a long talk with Sam and, while there are a lot of similarities, she's not my Sam."

After a moment's silence, Janet looked up at him, unshed tears swimming in her dark eyes. "They're going back aren't they?"

"If we can find the quantum mirror, it shouldn't be a problem."

"So…do you think General Hammond will authorize a mission to find the quantum mirror?" she asked.

"I think so. He's already let us send a MALP through. He knows it's important that they get back, and short of blowing up the base like they did before, there's really no other way."

"How soon do you think you'll go?"

"Well, that probably depends on me." He saw a question flash across her face. "Jack's ordered me to get some sleep."

"Oh, God, Daniel, I'm falling down on my job. When's the last time you've slept?"

"I caught a couple hours last night."

"He's right, that's not enough before an off-world mission. You need some sleep. And, you're drinking coffee?" she asked, her voice rising at the accusation.

"Decaf. I know better than that."

"Do you need something to help you sleep? I can give—"

"No. I think it's just a matter of letting myself relax."

"So, you'll be going . . . when?"

"Depends on Hammond, I'd think, but Jack's ready to get home. If he's like ours, he'll probably want to leave five minutes after I wake up."

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Who, me? I'm always careful," he teased.

"Right. That's why we have a bed in the infirmary with your name on it," she retorted, grinning slightly.

Grinning back, Daniel reached for his coffee and took a sip.

"Yuck, this is cold." Setting the cup back down, he looked at his watch. "I guess we've been talking longer than I thought." Pushing back his chair, he stood and picked up his cup. "I should be getting that sleep—as ordered. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah…eventually" she replied. "Talking helped. Thanks."

"No problem. Any time. You know where I am if you need me."

"So, Major, what have you found?"

Jack sat on the chair that Daniel had vacated, scooting it to the side to put physical distance between them equal to the emotional distance he'd just created. The screech of the chair legs on the floor echoed through the cold silence that had settled over the room.

Frowning, Sam began to bring him up to date. "Well, 233's coordinates aren't in their dialing database and Daniel isn't familiar with it at all. So, we got permission from General Hammond to send through a MALP earlier."

"Daniel said something about that."

"The room in which the gate's located looks the same as it did when we went through four years ago."

"So, that's good?"

"It'd seem so. It looks like all we have to do is gate there, go to the room where the mirror was located, and dial home on the controller."

They locked eyes, and Jack couldn't assess her thoughts past worry. "That simple?"

"I know. After all of this, it almost seems too easy."

"Shh. Murphy will hear you."

She attempted a weak smile despite her frustration with him. "Don't think we'll be able to break Murphy's Law, Colonel?"

"If anyone can, you can, Carter," he said. "If the mirror's there, it's just a matter of finding the right dimension or whatever, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, none of that need to hurry you had with trying to recreate the energy burst?"

"That's right. I was worried before that the longer we stayed, the further the 'reality' we were in would drift from the one to which we belong and the less likely we'd be to sustain a 'skip' that would get us home. The quantum mirror negates the time issue."

Jack sat still for another moment before sighing and standing. "I'm going to see if Doc has anything more for this headache and then do what I told Daniel to do—catch up on some sleep. You know what needs to be done to get SG-1 mission-ready. Ask Hammond for Teal'c's assistance, if necessary, and wake me when we're clear for a mission briefing."

"Yes, sir."

Jack made his way to the infirmary. He was still tired and his head was beginning to throb again, if it had ever stopped. Maybe lying to Carter had just made it worse.

His heart tightened, recalling the look on her face when spoke. After they'd talked last night, he had expected to see a look of relief instead of the shock and hurt. Still, it was probably for the best.

Sighing, he pushed his way through the infirmary doors. The change from the dim corridor to the brighter lights of the infirmary sent stabbing pain through his eyes. He squinted and the throbbing worsened. Swaying slightly, he reached out for the wall, leaned his head back, and shut his eyes.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

"Doc? Just the person I was looking for."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Killer headache." He kept his eyes closed. "Could you give me something for it so I can catch up on some sleep?"

"Okay," her voice soothed. "Just let me check you over a bit first."

Opening his eyes, he slanted a look down at her. "Is that really necessary. Can't you just give me something to knock me out?"

"What?" She arched her eyebrows at him. "And miss the chance to poke and prod at you? Never."

"I knew you were just after one thing," he grumbled.

"You've found me out," she said, giving him a small grin. "Come on. You did have a mild concussion. It's only wise that I look you over before giving you anything stronger than acetaminophen."

Pushing away from the wall, he followed her and sat on the bed she indicated. She popped a thermometer in his mouth and proceeded to check his vital signs.

"Everything looks normal," she said. "It shouldn't be a problem to give you something strong enough to knock out the pain, but only if you go straight to bed."

"Believe me at the moment there's nothing I'd rather do."

She hand him a hydrocodone and a glass of water, then watched him swallow.

"You're going to try and find that mirror that Sam thinks will get you home?"

"That's the plan. As soon as Sam works it all out."

"Well . . . Thank you for yesterday, then. This has been, well, really hard. Talking with you last night—kinda gave me a chance to say goodbye."

Jack shrugged. "Glad to have helped."

"That pill will take effect soon and you need to be lying down when it does."

"Okay." He slid off the bed. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome. Anytime. Jack...?" her voice trailed off as she spoke.

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. Sam shouldn't have to go through what Daniel and I have."

"Hey," he said, spreading his arms wide open. "You know me, I'm always careful."

"Oh, right. Why doesn't that inspire me with confidence?"

"Beats me," he said with a hint of a grin, then sobered. "Seriously, I'll be careful. She's too important for me to not be."

"Good. Now get out of here," Janet said.

"Ya sure, ya betcha," he countered. With that he left the infirmary for his quarters.

Sam knocked on the general's door and waited for a response.

"Enter," called the voice from within the room.

Sam opened the door and stepped inside. "Sir?"

"Major, you have an update?"

"Yes, sir. Daniel and I have reviewed the MALP data for P3R233."

"Is it safe?"

"It should be sir. Everything appears to be the same as it was in my reality. Nothing I've seen so far indicates anything different."

"What does Colonel O'Neill think?"

"The colonel is still feeling the effects of yesterday. He ordered Daniel to get some sleep, said he was going to do the same, and asked me to arrange the mission with you."

"So, you think you can get the two of you back to your reality?"

"I think so, sir." She looked at him earnestly. "It all hinges on finding the quantum mirror."

"Very well. SG-1 is authorized to leave for P3R233 in 12 hours. That should give Dr. Jackson and Colonel O'Neill sufficient time to rest. Can you be ready to go by then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed Major, and good luck."

"Thank you, sir,' Sam said before leaving.

Teal'c was standing outside as she exited the office.

"Did General Hammond authorize the mission?"

"Yes he did. We leave in 12 hours." She hesitated. "Teal'c, would you mind telling the colonel. I still have some things to do in the lab. I'll stop by Daniel's quarters on the way and let him know."

Teal'c inclined his head. "I will be happy to inform Colonel O'Neill, but would he not rather hear it from you?"

"Not at the moment." An edge was in her voice. "Trust me, it's better if you tell him."

"As you wish." Teal'c bowed slightly.

"Thanks Teal'c." Sighing, she squared her shoulders, smiled at him, and headed back to her lab.

As Jack rounded a corner, he failed to notice the figure standing outside his door until he nearly collided with him.

"Umph!" he mumbled as two strong arms reached out to steady him. "What the?"

"O'Neill." Teal'c steadied his friend. "You do not appear well.'

"I'm fine," Jack shrugged. "Fraiser just gave me a pain killer. I think it's starting to work."

Keeping one hand on the Jack, Teal'c opened the door to Jack's quarters, led his friend to the bed, and gently eased him down.

"Thanks, T," Jack groaned as he lay back on the bed.

"You are welcome."

Jack closed his eyes, and then quickly opened them again to stare at Teal'c. "By the way, was there a particular reason you were at my door?"

"Major Carter wanted me to inform you that our mission to 233 has been approved. We are to leave in 12 hours."

"Great. Fantastic. Super. Can't wait," Jack closed his eyes again.

"You do not wish to return, O'Neill?"

"Yes...no...I mean, sure I do."

"You do not sound positive."

Opening his eyes, Jack sat up and stared at the blanket, picking at a loose thread. "Well, yeah, I want to go back, Teal'c. Everything I know is there. It just...it's complicated."

"Does this complication involve Major Carter?"

Jack looked sidelong at the Jaffa. "What makes you say that?"

"I have watched you and Major Carter and, while your words say that you are married, your mannerisms convey discomfort."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Probably not to most; however, most do not know you, O'Neill, as I do. You are not wed, am I correct?"

Jack stared at him before answering. "No."

"But, you share feelings for each other?"

Jack stared at the wall for a moment. "Yes. At least I think so. I don't know, Teal'c. And it doesn't help that aside from this one, every single alternate reality we've encountered has us together."

"Follow your heart, O'Neill, for without the heart, the soul is wounded."

Suddenly the stress, the headache, and the pill hit him all at once. "I think that pill is working, because that . . . kind of made sense." He flopped backward on the bed and once again closed his eyes. "Wake me when it's time to go."

As Jack's breathing evened out, Teal'c turned off the light and quietly left the room.

Daniel was in his office, gathering his things for the mission to P3R233. Despite his being angry at Jack's orders to get some sleep the night before, he had to admit the he felt much more alert. He was sorting through his books, trying to decide which if any he should take when a knock sounded on his door.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened. "Danny?" Jacob stuck his head around the opening. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, not all, please," Daniel assured him. "I was going to go by the infirmary and see you before we left. Looks like Selmac has healed you good as new."

"At least physically," Jacob sighed, sitting down on the couch.

Daniel leaned back on his desk. "Jacob...I'm so sorry. It must have been a real shock to you, coming back and, well."

"I can't begin to describe how it feels to lose your child. Especially with this other Sam."

"When they first came through the gate, I thought that the whole thing, Sam and Jack dying had been a mistake, some sort of Gould trick. But it wasn't."

The two men sat there in silence, thinking of what they had lost.

"So," Jacob finally spoke. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess. I've been so busy; I haven't really had time to think. Actually, I don't want to have time to think," he said.

Jacob nodded in understanding. "How are Meredith and Grace doing?"

"Meredith misses her." Daniel shook his head. "She's used to us being gone for several days, so right now, she just thinks Sam's on a mission. I can't imagine how she'll be when Sam doesn't come back. As for Grace, she's been a Godsend. She's holding up as well as can be expected. Having to care for Meredith seems to be helping her focus her grief."

"It would. Kids have a way of putting things in perspective don't they?"

"Yes, they do," Daniel agreed. "I was just about to call and let Grace know that I may be gone for while. You want to talk to her when I'm done?"

"Okay."

Daniel reached for the phone. Dialing his home, he waited for Grace to pick up.

"He-who," a tiny voice answered.

"Meredith?"

"He- who." she repeated.

"Meredith, this is daddy, sweetie."

"DaDa?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"I miss you, DaDa."

"I miss you too sweetie."

"Where's Mommy?"

Daniel closed his eyes briefly. "She's not here, honey."

"Talk w' her?"

"No, sweetie, you can't. Merry, where's Grandma?"

Just then he heard a voice in the background.

"Meredith, what are you doing?"

"Talkin' to DaDa."

"Well, tell Daddy bye."

"Bye, bye, DaDa."

"Bye, baby. I love you."

"Wuv you, too."

"Daniel?" Grace sounded slightly out of breath.

"Hey, Grace."

"I'm sorry about that. I thought she was asleep."

"No problem. It was nice to talk to her. How's she doing?"

"Fine, most of the time. Still talking about what she's going to do when Sam gets home. It's tough."

"I know," he agreed. "How are you holding up?"

"As long as Grace is awake and keeping me busy, I'm fine. When will you be back?"

"That's why I'm calling. I have to go out of town. Something I have to do on a project Sam and I were working on. Shouldn't be much longer than a couple of days. I just wanted to let you know."

"Don't worry. Meredith and I will be okay."

"Thanks Grace. I don't know what I'd do without you . . . what we'd do without you."

"I'm just glad to be here. Being with Meredith helps, you know."

"I'm sure it does. I wish I could be with her right now," he sighed.

"I know you do. Just do what you need to and get back as soon as you can."

"I will," he agreed. "By the way, I have someone here who wants to talk to you."

"Okay," she sounded puzzled.

"Bye Grace, see you soon, give Merry a kiss for me."

"I will."

Daniel passed the phone to Jacob. Gathering his things, he pointed to the door, indicating that he would leave.

Jacob reached out, grasped his arm briefly. "Take care of yourself, Danny. I'd hate to lose you, too."

"I will Jacob. Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it."

Daniel exited his office, leaving Jacob alone with the phone.

"Hello?" he heard Grace's questioning tone through the phone. "Anyone there?"

"Gracie?" his voice shook slightly. "It's me, Jacob."

"Jake?" her voice trembled. "Oh Jake, I'm so glad your back. They weren't sure when they could get in touch with you."

"Gracie, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about Sam, I'm sorry I wasn't here..." his voice broke.

"I know Jake, I know." He could hear the tears in her voice.

"I can't believe our baby girl is gone," he said through his tears. "I'd like to come over, spend some time with you. I think we need to be together right now."

"Yes," she agreed. "When will you be here?"

"Soon. Maybe an hour, an hour and half."

"I'll see you then. And Jake . . . I'm glad you're back. I need you right now."

"I need you, too, Gracie. I'll see you soon."

"I'll be here."

Jacob hung up the phone and sat there, head bowed in grief, as he struggled to contain his emotions. He could feel the comforting strength flowing from Selmac. Not for the first time, he was very glad to have his symbiote's help. Finally, taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and left the office. Some time with Grace and Meredith was just what he needed.

"Chevron six engaged," Sergeant Davis announced, though it was obvious that the Stargate was dialing out and connecting as usual. "Chevron seven locked."

Sam felt the usual butterflies of excitement prior to an off-world mission. After so many trips through the Stargate, she'd thought that the excitement she felt before leaving would have diminished. It hadn't yet, and she began to wonder if it ever would.

The spinning wheel of the gate reminded her of roulette, of not knowing what number will come up when the ball found its resting place. Now, she always knew the coordinates of the gates they dialed, and many times she totally knew what to expect on the other side if it was a return visit to an allied world.

This time, however, the return visit to 233 had her worried. Whether it was apprehension about what they might or might not find at 233, the nervous butterflies in her stomach were doing double duty, and Sam felt a reluctance to leave this reality. Quite possibly on the other side of that wormhole was the means to return home, to return back to a life that she loved but away from the man that . . . well, a man that she didn't want to see as merely her commanding officer.

"Major? Are you ready?" Davis asked again, shaking Sam from her thoughts.

"What?"

"The wormhole has stabilized. I'm ready to reactivate the MALP."

"Certainly, Sergeant. Go ahead," she ordered.

The computer screens within the control room blinked as they switched to MALP telemetry. The room in which the Stargate was housed looked very much the same as it had four years before. Dark. Cavernous. Miscellaneous pieces of silent machinery.

"Pan around the room?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The camera followed the directions input by Sergeant Davis. It slowly moved left, and then back right, varying zooms at different spots to survey the room in more detail.

"So, Carter, still good to go?"

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his warm hand on her shoulder, heard his voice so near her ear, his body effectively trapping her between him and Davis's chair. How the hell had he snuck up on her like that?

"Colonel O'Neill," she began, her tone icy, still stinging from his obvious lie to her from earlier, "Take a look for yourself. What do you think?"

Glancing up at him from over her shoulder, she watched his dark stare as he assessed the feed from the MALP. Maybe they shouldn't go. Maybe she should just say to hell with it all and stay here with him. Maybe.

"Yeah, it looks the same," he said. He looked down at her, his eyes holding a challenge and his eyebrow cocking slightly as he spoke softly. "Let's hope it is, huh, Major?"

Damn him, she thought. Fine, be that way, sir. If you can walk away from this, then so can I. Instead, she answered flatly, "You bet. It's time to go home."

She watched him wet his lips with his tongue, the chill between the two of them so strong it was palpable. "Well, ah, then, let's do it."

"Yes, sir."

Jack stepped away from her and, without a second glance, tromped down the circular stairs that led to the gate room.

"Major Carter, is there something wrong?" Davis asked, having heard the complete exchange.

Clearing her throat to control her emotions, she answered, "No, Davis. We're both just tired and ready to get back to where we belong."

"Yes, ma'am. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Her feet echoed on the metal steps as she hurriedly made her way to the gate room. Daniel and Teal'c were both entering through the access door that led to the corridor, fully geared up, just in case.

"Grab your stuff, Carter. Let's go. Teal'c, you take point. I'll be right behind you." Jack clipped his gun into place. As was his habit, he took off his baseball-styled cap and adjusted it before stepping up to the metal ramp.

Shaking her head at his brusqueness, Sam picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder, wincing slightly at the discomfort. Since her ribs were still healing and tender, she was unable to wear the style of pack that clipped to her utility vest. What supplies she needed she carried in a small duffle-style bag.

"Here, let me," Daniel offered, moving to take the bag from her.

"No, I can do this."

"You look like you still hurt, I'll take it. It's no big deal."

Sam looked at the shadow that suddenly loomed over her shoulder. "Give me the damn bag," Jack ordered, taking it and ending the argument.

Hammond's voice boomed through the microphone, and they all looked to the window of the control room. "Good luck, SG-1. Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, it was an honor to serve with you, whether or not you were ours." He saluted the two officers who were standing below him. They snapped to attention and returned the salute.

"Yes, sir," Jack responded.

"Godspeed to you both."

"Thank you, sir," said Sam.

"Time's a-wasting, folks. Come on, Major," Jack said over his shoulder as he walked toward and then into the event horizon, following Teal'c.

From the foot of the ramp next to Sam, Daniel watched Jack's back disappear through the shimmering surface. "Is everything all right with you two?"

"No, Daniel. It isn't, and I don't know why."

"I'm sorry."

"I am, too, but it doesn't matter anyway. In a few minutes we'll be home. All of whatever's gone on between us will be left on this side of the mirror."

"And you're okay with that?"

"What choice do I have?" She asked before stepping through the Stargate. Immediately, everything vanished and then just as immediately, her foot was stepping down on the hard concrete-like flooring of the gate room on P3R-233. She cautiously moved forward into the shadowy room, the only illumination coming from the surface of the wormhole behind her, and she heard the familiar swish of another exiting the gate.

"So, this is 233?" Daniel asked. The gate shut down, plunging them into darkness. "Great."

A flashlight clicked on, casting a bright swath as Sam swung it through the room.

"So, where are Jack and Teal'c?"

"My guess is that the colonel couldn't wait to get to the mirror. This way."

As she led the way out of the room, Daniel whistled. "Would you look at that?" he said in amazement.

"What?"

"That. That symbol." Daniel pointed to a metallic shape that stood atop a tall pole. "I haven't seen anything like it."

"Oh, yeah, that. Don't worry about it."

"What does it mean?"

"Something about 'doom and gloom to all who enter.' It shook our Teal'c up a bit—he was ready to leave, but didn't elaborate."

"Well, yeah, I can see why."

"Nothing happened to us the last time we were here. We spent hours going over every inch of this facility looking for Daniel and found nothing. For whatever reason it was posted, it's decoration now."

As Daniel followed her to the room that had held the assortment of alien artifacts, Sam became more aware of the deadening silence of the place. The only noise was their footfalls, and the feeling of unease she'd had back at the SGC returned. This close to the room, they should be able to hear conversation between Jack and Teal'c. Instead, there was nothing but eerie silence. Suddenly alert, she raised her P-90, her finger at the ready, and paused just outside of the open door.

Daniel recognized her switch to military mode and dropped to the left against the wall. Almost as an afterthought, he checked his sidearm, ready to use it if necessary.

"Colonel?" she called. She led with the flashlight when she entered the room. "Teal'c?"

Nearly as soon as she'd stepped through the doorway, Daniel saw the light go toward the ceiling. Crap. He heard some muffled noises and then Sam say, "I'm putting it down. Just don't hurt them."

Whatever was going on in there caused her to surrender without argument. Should he go in with guns blazing? Did she expect him to go for help? He didn't want to leave them at the mercy of whatever aliens were in there, but he also didn't know what exactly he could do. If she surrendered, did she think they had no chance?

A cold, hard, metal shaft pressed against the base of his skull. Whatever choice he had been about to make had just been taken away from him. The pressure against his head was intense, forcing him forward and, though he tried to resist, a large silver hand encircled his left wrist and twisted his arm back, giving Daniel no option but to go where his captor directed him.

Jack struggled to remain impassive as he watched Carter surrender to their captors. He knew she had no other choice, but, God, he didn't want to see her hurt. Her blue eyes, sharp, wary, connected with his and, nearly imperceptibly, he nodded to her, letting her know it was okay.

What else could he do? It was his fault they were in this situation. He and Teal'c had walked into the artifact room and started looking for that damned mirror. He should have waited for Carter and Daniel to come through the gate. Hell, he'd talked about Murphy's Law biting their ass, but he didn't think it'd actually happen.

Yet, here they were. He and Teal'c. Kneeling where the mirror should have been while shiny silver aliens, who were a hell of a lot stronger than they looked, held weird weapons at their necks. Jack had no idea what those cold metal sticks would do if activated, and he really wasn't eager to find out.

"I'm putting it down. Just don't hurt them," she said, holding both the flashlight and her weapon away from her in a non-aggressive stance as she dropped to her knees. She discarded the flashlight, slowly disconnected her weapon from her utility vest, and then placed it on the floor next to the flashlight. When she finished, she held her hands up. "We're not going to hurt you."

"I've tried the 'we come in peace' bullshit, Carter. They don't get it."

A tall silver-skinned humanoid pushed Daniel into the room behind Sam. He, she, it—whatever—removed Daniel's sidearm from its holster before shoving him to his knees.

Not including the individual with Daniel, there were three others within the room; one each restraining Teal'c and himself, and one in the center of the room in front of Sam.

The four were slender. Assembled like humans, their arms and legs were proportionate in size to their bodies. Their silvery skin glistened and their gauzy toga-like clothing fluttered as they moved.

Three were tall, taller than himself. The one in the center was smaller in stature, possibly female. Her, for lack of a better pronoun, pewter-colored hair was . . . different from the others—slightly longer and less severe in cut. She seemed to be in charge; her glittering green eyes rapidly moved from one alien to another, obviously communicating though no words were uttered.

Daniel attempted a smile. "Hi. I'm Daniel. We mean you no harm."

Jack sighed. "Been there. Done that. Zip, Daniel."

Daniel threw an intense look at Jack as if to say "shut up," before he continued talking calmly to their captors. "We're here to look for a mirror. Do you know where it is? We need to borrow it for just a few minutes and then we'll leave."

Jack rolled his eyes. Yeah, that'll work. Daniel sounded as if he were speaking to grade-schoolers. Still, the small one took interest in him. She reached out to him with gentle fingers, lightly brushing aside his bangs before laying a palm against Daniel's forehead. Daniel's eyes closed for a moment and then opened, widening in understanding before blinking rapidly, like one of Fraiser's flashlights had blinded him.

"Daniel?" Jack called, almost a warning. He watched as the being moved toward Carter to repeat the process. With no response from Daniel and the alien touching Sam's, Jack began to struggle against his captor. "Daniel!"

"I'm fine, Jack. They are kind of like telepaths, only their method of communication is different." Daniel paused, his brow furrowing in thought.

When he spoke again, the words came out in an excited tumble. "They . . . they didn't 'read' our minds, per se. She can only implant her thoughts. They cannot know what we think because our brains are wired differently. Though they do hear our words when we speak, they can't understand us—not yet, anyway. She's working to add vocalized speech to her capabilities so we can communicate."

"Carter?"

"I got the same message. That explains why you didn't get a response from them, sir."

"Did either of you get who these folks are?"

"No, sir. I didn't."

"Me neither, Jack. I think we'll be okay so long as we do what they say. If they were aggressive, we would already be dead."

"Yeah, that's why they've got those things pointed at us."

The small one crossed the room to Jack, gently applying a smooth palm to his forehead. He jerked back against her touch, but her strange eyes locked with his and calmed him. The silvery skin felt cool against his and, despite his apprehension, he experienced an overwhelming sense of peace as feelings and images flowed from the palm of her hand into his mind. As invasive as such a thing should be, he only felt an ease, a gentleness.

When she removed her hand, he opened his eyes and again looked into hers, surprised at the warmth held within the unusual green eyes.

"You are strangers," she said simply. The voice was oddly musical, neither masculine nor feminine, yet it was comforting.

Not breaking his gaze from hers, Jack answered just as simply. "So are you."

She nodded in understanding.

"How did you learn our language so quickly?" Daniel asked.

She did not turn to him. Instead, she still assessed Jack, as if intrigued by his dark brown eyes as he was of her glittering green ones. "I am Communicator," she answered, as if the simple statement explained how she acquired not only the ability to speak, but the knowledge and understanding of their language.

"So am I. We," Daniel gestured to her back, "are explorers."

When she spoke again, she addressed only Jack. "You bring weapons."

Damn, those eyes were nearly hypnotic, Jack thought before he answered her. "Not to harm you, but to protect ourselves."

"Protecting you, you would harm us."

"No, only in self-defense."

"As it would be if we harmed you. You came here."

"We didn't know you were here. We thought that the Goa'uld had killed all the inhabitants of this world."

"The Goa'uld." The words were issued as a statement. Jack couldn't tell whether or not she knew who the Goa'uld were.

"Yeah. Snake-in-their-heads, glowing eyes, weird voice, think they're gods."

"Yes." The communicator looked to Teal'c. "You serve Goa'uld."

Teal'c slowly shook his head in denial. "I served the Goa'uld Apophis, but no longer. I am with the Tau'ri to battle against the Goa'uld."

She nodded toward Teal'c, lowering her eyes to his abdomen. "You bring Goa'uld."

"I cannot survive without it. It is infantile. It will not harm you."

The communicator looked to the two of her kind who still stood silently behind Jack and Teal'c, saying nothing for a long moment. Jack assumed they were discussing something. "Only you can speak?" he asked, interrupting them. She returned her intense gaze to Jack.

"Yes. I am Communicator. They are not."

"I am Colonel Jack O'Neill of the Tau'ri. Of Earth. We're not here to hurt you. We didn't even know you were here. We just need to find a mirror. You know, shiny thing. You can see yourself in it?"

His words were met with silence. Again, it seemed that the communicator was in discussion with her own. "Rise. Come." She abruptly turned and strode to the open doorway.

"Our weapons. Our equipment, we need them," Sam said.

"They will bring in time. Come."

The communicator left the room and the other three waited for their captives to rise. Jack nodded to Sam and Daniel and then struggled to stand. His injured knee had stiffened while being forced to support his weight for too long. Not wanting to show a weakness, he forced himself to walk without a limp. With an alien in front, Carter and Daniel left the room first. He and Teal'c followed, the remaining two aliens completing the procession.

They'd been placed in a small, windowless room—everywhere in this facility seemed to be windowless. What'd these folks have against fresh air?—and had been left alone for hours. Jack's butt was getting numb from the cold hard floor. "You know, I'm really beginning to hate this room," Jack said.

"Right there with ya, sir."

"Carter, cut the 'sir' crap, will ya?"

Daniel, who had been aimlessly pacing, stopped in his tracks and looked at the two and shook his head. They'd been sniping at each other off and on since they'd been detained. "Whatever is going on between you two, get through it and get over it, will you? Life's too short."

"I agree, Daniel," Teal'c said, without looking to the two in question.

Jack sat away from the wall on which he'd been leaning. "'Daniel?'" he asked. "Since when do you call him 'Daniel'? What happened to 'Daniel Jackson'?"

"I have not called him Daniel Jackson in a very long time, O'Neill. Not since I was honored to stand up at his wedding. We are brothers, as O'Neill and I were."

"Ah."

Daniel saw Sam drop her head to her knees. She'd been sitting in the corner after she'd finally given up on picking the lock to the door. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm ready to get out of this reality, if that's what you mean."

Jack spoke, "And, that doesn't look like it's happening any time soon."

"And, whose fault is that, sir?"

A sudden noise at the door interrupted the two. It opened and one of the tall aliens appeared. Wordlessly, he blinked his green eyes at them and then gestured to the open doorway.

"We should follow him," Daniel said.

"Oh, gee, ya think?" Jack said, groaning as he stood. Sam's eyes met his, full of concern, which she quickly masked before she followed the alien from the room. Silently, Teal'c exited behind her, leaving Daniel alone with Jack.

"Jack, she's supposed to be your wife—don't you think you should be treating her like she is?" Daniel said softly, low enough for only Jack to hear as they left the room.

"'Supposed to be?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know, Jack. I know that you two aren't—"

"And?"

"And, she's in love with you. Don't—"

"I'm her commanding officer, Daniel. Nothing more. Not in our reality, and, obviously, not here."

"Jack—"

"Leave it alone, Daniel," Jack said, his tone a warning.

As they spoke, they were led into an enormous, open room—a meeting hall of sorts. High ceiling, long and narrow, it smelled musty and had the appearance of long being abandoned. The Communicator stood on a dais at the end of the room, her arm outstretched, beckoning for them to approach.

"Well, this is cliché," Jack said under his breath.

There were three smooth stone benches on the dais. The Communicator sat on one and waved her hand to indicate they were to take the others. Daniel sat on one closest to the alien. Jack and Sam sat on the opposite bench, leaving Teal'c to join Daniel.

"Patience is requested at the crudity of accommodations," the Communicator began. "We are displaced for many cycles. We only now begin to return here."

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

"The Goa'uld."

Jack's interest perked. "They invaded?"

"Yes. They took us unaware. The first wave came through the star-gate. The scientists who studied the gifts found in the star-gate were first eliminated. We were unaware. This building was secluded from the outside. Its protection became our undoing. We were unaware that it had been compromised."

Jack nodded in understanding. "Then what happened?"

The communicator closed her brilliant eyes before speaking again. "We do not have sky transport. They came by sky. They asked for slaves. They asked for hosts. They asked for surrender. When we refused, we were annihilated."

"Not all of you?" Sam urged, caught up in the tale, related as it was in broken English.

"No. Some were alerted. Some alerted others beyond the skies. Some were relocated. We are some. We are only."

Daniel asked, "How many of your people survived?"

"A colony. More than we here." She indicated the other three who had joined the group on the dais.

"And this happened how long ago?" Sam asked.

"Four cycles. Long ago. Why now do you seek the glass?"

Sam looked to Jack before she answered. At his nod, she responded. "To go home. It is very complicated, but Colonel O'Neill and I do not belong to this . . . 'reality.'"

"'Reality?' We are this, this are we. No more, no less."

"No, there is more. There are infinite choices and infinite forms of 'this.' We belong to another form of this," Sam explained, the cryptic speech of the silver alien becoming an addictive form of communication.

"And they?" the communicator gestured to Daniel and Teal'c. "They belong to another, as well?"

Daniel spoke as Sam did. "No," he paused as she let him continue. "We belong to this reality."

"The Goa'uld, they exist in both?"

"They exist in many," Jack answered. "We have experienced many versions of them in past encounters with the mirror. Never good."

"Then we have common ground."

"Yes, we do," Jack agreed. "Does the mirror still exist?"

"Why is it needed? Did you not need it to travel here?"

Jack groaned in his head, trying not to show his impatience and his irritation at the circular conversation. Why were these things always so difficult? He tensed up again when he heard Daniel begin to speak. God, he hoped the archeologist didn't muck this up.

"We traveled here through the Stargate. They were sent here—to this reality—through an error, a malfunction, of the Stargate. The quantum mirror is the only way to get them home. Can you help us?"

"It is not of us to decide. It is of others."

"Well, talk to them, for cryin' out loud," Jack urged. He felt Sam's hand on his arm, a slight squeeze to restrain him. "Please."

The communicator rose from the bench and motioned to the others. Together, they retreated through a door at the back of the room.

Daniel stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, that went okay."

"It could have gone a lot better, don't you think?" Sam asked. "Do any of you think they'll let us use the mirror?"

"You guess is as good as any, Carter," Jack said. "Any idea how long we'll have to wait this time?"

"In a hurry to get home, sir?"

"Yeah, it's Sunday and I forgot to set the VCR."

Somewhere outside of the room, they all heard a small explosion.

"What the?"

"That sounds like a staff weapon, O'Neill."

"Yeah. Come on—let's get our weapons and get out of here," Jack suggested, heading toward the door through which the aliens had exited. The others followed with Sam and Teal'c bringing up the rear.

When they entered the smaller room, the aliens seemed to be in a trance of some sort. All were standing, their glittering eyes closed, unfazed by the encroaching noises.

"Hey! Wake up! Where's our weapons?" Jack yelled as he clapped his hands.

"Jack," Daniel warned. "Waking them may do harm. We don't know what this is."

Jack glared at Daniel. "Well, not waking them will certainly do all of us harm, Daniel. That staff weapon didn't fire all by itself."

"No, I suppose it didn't."

"Carter, Teal'c—go find what you can to use against whoever's shooting up the place. Daniel—wake them up and see where our stuff is. I'll see if there's a back way out of here."

They split up, following Jack's orders while the concussions of more small explosions rattled the room. Sam pulled a bench to barricade the door in which they'd entered, while Teal'c pulled down metal decorative elements that, when held, resembled baseball bats.

Jack opened a number of small doors at the back of the room. Empty storage closet. Empty storage closet. Behind the third door were their P-90s and equipment bags. "Thank you," he said under his breath. He pulled out the items and passed them to Daniel, who'd just succeeded in waking the Communicator. Her large green eyes blinked slowly.

"Wake your friends. We need to get out of here now." Jack hit the last word hard, emphasizing the urgency.

"Explain," she said. Another boom occurred, this time closer than before.

"Let's just say you have some unfriendly visitors out there that no one wants to see. How do we get out of here?"

The other silver humanoids blinked, coming back from wherever they'd been. At the nod of the communicator, one went to the back wall and waved his hand. Beside the closets, the empty wall dematerialized and an opening appeared.

Daniel stared at the apparition, his mouth agape. "Wow."

"Not now, Daniel. We need to get them out of here. Carter," Jack ordered, "Take the Communicator and go."

Sam finished clipping the P-90 to her vest. At his words, she looked through the opening to make sure it was safe.

Stretching out her hand, the Communicator stroked Jack's cheek. "We will be one united," she spoke cryptically.

"Yeah, we'll all work together to get rid of whoever's out there. You got my word. Now, go with Carter—she'll take care of you." Jack looked past the silver being to Sam, who stood waiting at the opening. He nodded to her, and then turned his attention elsewhere, as the Communicator left with her.

"Teal'c, you and Daniel follow with the others. I'll be right behind you."

The bombing began right after Sam rounded the first dark corner. The walls shook and dust rained down on them. No idea where she was going, she surveyed the cross-corridor before even thinking about advancing, checking behind her to make sure the Communicator was still with her. The rest of the contingent should catch up with them momentarily, she knew. She also knew that she needed to find someplace away from where the action was, if that was possible.

"Come on, I need some direction here—where's safe?" Sam asked the silvery being.

"We are not certain. This is like before. The only place is—" Another explosion somewhere near shook the building, throwing the two against the wall.

"Like before? When the Goa'uld came?"

"Yes. We are safely hidden—we cannot go there." Fear was obvious in her musical voice.

So, wherever the rest of her kind were, that wasn't where they'd be going. Sam could understand that. It'd very possibly be leading the enemy straight to what they wanted.

"Okay, but where can we go? There has to be someplace else that we can get to without exposing our position?"

"Yes." Her green eyes closed briefly in thought. Whether she was remembering or communicating with the others, Sam couldn't tell. "We go this way." The being unexpectedly took off in long, determined strides leaving Sam scrambling to catch up. The Communicator turned another corner, leaving Sam's line of sight.

"Wait—this isn't safe. You don't know—"

A blue flash of a zatniketel took Sam by surprise as she turned the corner. She raised her weapon to fire as she saw the Communicator crumple into a heap on the floor. A second zat discharged from behind her, and she collapsed as she squeezed the trigger in reflex, striking the Jaffa in front of her.

The repeat of gunfire echoed through the hallways even as another explosion rocked the cavernous building.

Oh, crap! "Carter!" Jack yelled, running at full speed. He passed Daniel and Teal'c and skidded over rubble as he headed for the source of the sound.

Coming around a corner, he saw a Jaffa holding her securely around her waist as she sagged slightly against the burly man.

"Carter!" He raised his P-90 and aimed, determined to take down the Jaffa. She raised her head and stared at him, a look full of hope and fear, as the rings began dropping down around her.

"No!" He ran toward the transport device, trying to slide within the area to transport with them, but he was too far away. She and the Jaffa vanished with the rings to a ship in orbit around the planet.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c yelled to him. "There's nothing you can do for her now."

"The hell there isn't," he roared, shooting the group of Jaffa entering the corridor. Jack took point, leading the two men and the silver aliens back around the corner.

"Jack, he's right," Daniel said. "If you want to get her back, we need to stay alive. She can take care of herself."

"Where's the Communicator?" Jack asked, turning to the three silver men behind him. They blinked at him without answering.

"Jack, they can't speak. She was the one who could," Daniel reminded him.

"O'Neill," Teal'c spoke softly, "I saw her on the floor. If they left her, it is because she is dead."

Another explosion caused dust and debris to drop onto them. They needed to move to some place safe, some place out of this building. Unbidden, the thoughts of the Communicator were impressed upon Jack's brain. He shook his head, knowing he couldn't be hearing her. But, again, like a whisper, she instructed him. "This way," he ordered the group, ignoring every instinct he possessed telling him to go after Carter.

For what seemed to be the hundredth time, Sam pounded on the cover to the door's control mechanism. God only knew what had been used to seal the damn thing, but she couldn't get it open. Which meant she couldn't get the door open. Which meant she was screwed. Royally.

After ringing to the mothership, she'd been unceremoniously thrown into this holding cell by the Jaffa. And, whoever owned this damn ship had done a fine job fortifying the cell so that she couldn't escape. Tears stung at her eyes as she gave the panel a final useless punch.

"Damn it!"

Almost as if her words were a magical incantation, the door slid open and her stomach fell. No way had she done that. She pressed herself back against the wall, ready to come out fighting. Except, who stepped through the door was completely unexpected.

"You are here?" a soft feminine voice called out. Her words were slightly accented, nearly French in sound.

"Who are you? You are not Goa'uld."

A pretty, petite short-haired blonde with an exquisite black lace and leather costume entered the room. She considered Sam briefly before crossing deeper into the room, the door quickly swooshing shut behind her. "I am Shallan, lotar to my master."

"Lotar?"

"His personal servant."

"His slave?"

Shallan said nothing. She quietly went about her task. Sam refused to leave her position at the door. She crossed her arms over her chest as she weighed her options. "You are human." The words were more an accusation than a statement.

"Yes, like you. My master bids you wear this." What amounted to a few scraps of shimmering cloth and something that looked like a diaphanous robe were arranged on the bench within the room.

"I don't think so."

"It will be better if you submit. I understand your desire to fight, but my master can be . . . most displeased when his orders are denied. Fighting will do nothing but postpone the inevitable."

"Thanks for the advice, Shay-lin,"

"Shallan,"

"Whatever. I don't believe there is such a thing as inevitability. You tell your master I have no plans to get comfortable here. And, you can take that back with you."

"Samantha—"

"How do you know my name?"

"My master knows much. You are Tau'ri, of SG-1. You are also highly prized. My master is most pleased."

"Oh, please." She exaggerated the word, dragging it out to voice her disbelief.

"If you do not co-operate, you will be enticed to co-operate. It would be easier on you—"

"Leave—if all you are going to do is aid your 'master,'" Sam spat the distasteful word out as if it were poison, "then leave. I can do without your assistance."

"Very well. I will inform him."

"You do that."

Sam watched the smaller woman exit the room and the thought flashed through her mind to take her out and attempt her escape. She didn't know if it was pity or contempt she felt for the fragile beauty, but Sam knew that attempting an escape by force through Shallan would be wrong.

Jack would find a way to get to her if he could. And, if he couldn't, she would bide her time. Shallan seemed sensitive to her well-being, for some unknown reason. Hopefully, that would work to Sam's advantage, regardless of what the future would bring.

Jack led the group down a corridor away from the explosions that rocked the area. He hoped for their sake that access to the Stargate wouldn't be severed by the damage. Well, they would solve that problem when and if it happened.

The Communicator hadn't given any further instructions to him, but Jack felt oddly distracted by knowing he'd heard her in his head. Then again, knowing Sam was in enemy hands out of his reach was an incredible distraction, in and of itself.

While he knew he was doing the only thing he could by getting the aliens and his team to safety, he couldn't let go of the overwhelming need to get to whatever ship she was on and bust her out.

As if on autopilot, Jack began to lead the group deeper into the facility, all the while keeping alert for the unexpected. As soon as he got these folks to a safe place, he was heading back to the Stargate. With any luck, there would still be Jaffa up there. All he needed was the control crystal for the ring transport and he'd get her back.

After Shallan left, Sam was certain that her 'master' would be in within moments to extract an inch of flesh for her resistance.

Instead, there'd been nothing. Nothing but the mechanical drone of the ship and her own breathing. She wanted to pace, but that'd just waste precious energy. She couldn't sleep; she didn't want to lose her edge.

So, instead, she sat. She fiddled with the Velcro on her pants. She tested the strength of the material on the harem girl costume, for lack of a better description, that Shallan had left. The only thing that was missing was turned up shoes and Aladdin's lamp, though an all powerful genie wouldn't be a bad thing right about now.

The robe's material was exquisite; a fine spider's web of golden thread embellished by tiny seed pearls scattered throughout and a cluster of colorful gems at the clasp, which would fasten between her breasts if she'd chosen to wear it. Which she didn't.

What the robe's purpose was, Sam couldn't quite figure. She guessed it would enhance the wearer rather than hide anything. The matching wisps of cloth Shallan had left, Sam assumed, were some sort of undergarments. And, boy, they didn't leave anything to the imagination.

Not much more than silver gauze triangles trimmed with gold cording, the outfit reminded Sam of skimpy lingerie one would find within the pages of a men's magazine. The panties had something akin to a skirt attached, or maybe like a full-length loin cloth, Sam couldn't decide which. There was more of the gauzy material that attached at the front and back of the low-riding panties and draped to the floor, leaving wide openings up to the narrow cording that would encircle her hips.

What system lord had the audacity to think that she would willingly change into the stupid lingerie? And, Sam didn't begin to want to know what the end result of wearing the outfit would be.

She'd wadded the flimsy clothing into a ball and threw it into the corner of the room when the door slid open again. Turning, she expected to see Shallan, but a sudden twinge of awareness struck her and she knew that she was about to face the Goa'uld.

A darkly handsome man stood before her. Small in stature, probably no taller than her own five feet nine, Sam would never consider him a threat were it not for an evil gleam in his eyes. And they weren't even glowing.

"I understand that you are not pleased with my gift."

Sam looked at him for a bit longer than she probably should have before dismissing the man, his voice deep and seductive, taking her by surprise. "You understand correctly. I don't do lace. Who exactly are you anyway?" She turned her back to him and walked to the bench to sit, leaning against the wall and feigning disinterest. The one thing she didn't want to do was to let him think she held him in any regard whatsoever. When she looked up at him again, his face held an expression similar to amusement. Not what she'd intended.

"I am Ba'al."

"And that's supposed to mean something to me?"

"Perhaps. You "mean' something to me, Samantha. You are of great value."

"That's nice to know. When's the auction, because I'd like to get off of this ship. I'll gladly pay you whatever you want for ransom."

He laughed, stroking his goatee briefly as he approached her. "Ah, what I want, Samantha, is far greater than any ransom you could pay. Where are the rest of your friends?"

"I couldn't say."

"Are they on the planet below?"

"What planet are we over exactly? I don't have a window in here, so I can't be sure."

"Your father, is he with the others?"

"My dad is so far away, you couldn't reach him if you tried," she answered truthfully. Both Jacob Carters were safe, one on Earth in this reality and the other, hopefully, safe in her reality.

"We'll see, Samantha. I have heard tales about you, about your beauty, your spirit." Ba'al stood before her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I can see the stories weren't in jest. You are above compare. Why you seek to war when you should be prized . . . You will dress for me."

"Not in this lifetime."

"That can be arranged, Samantha Carter. You know I can create many lifetimes for you. If you do not honor my wishes in this lifetime, maybe the next?" Sam sat perfectly still, refusing to acknowledge his words. "You do not believe me?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Not in the least. You will obey me, Samantha." He slid his hand across her chin. "You will be my Atan, my special one, and you will provide the information I require."

Sam fought the urge to pull away and to knock his lights out. Instead, she laughed bitterly, "In your dreams."

"Ah, but if you do not, you will live your nightmares—do not think that I cannot kill you a thousand times in a thousand ways."

"I don't fear death. Your threats are useless."

"You will fear life if you choose not to be my Atan," his hand slipped to encircle her throat, applying pressure against her windpipe, "and your life will be one of complete pain when it could be one of exquisite pleasure."

"I told you before; I don't fear death, Ba'al."

"Then, fear life, Samantha, because I can make yours one of unspeakable pain or unbelievable pleasure—the choice will be yours. When I return, you will be dressed as I see fit. You will shed the warrior's gear and present yourself as the woman you are, or," he released her throat and tenderly brushed her short hair away from her face, "you will wish you had."

"So, Jack, where are we going exactly?" Daniel asked.

Jack gestured to his head. "I don't know. I only know the bits that she's feeding me."

"Who?"

"The Communicator."

"But she was killed, Jack."

"I can't explain it, Daniel, but she's with me. It's like she's 'The Force' or something, and I'm Luke. God, I hope this isn't permanent."

"But how?"

"I don't know! I wished to hell she'd haunt you, though, and I could work on getting Carter back."

Daniel stopped talking and fell back a bit giving Jack space to think. The bombing that had begun following the initial wave of Jaffa had settled. He didn't like this. Why the hell did they show up here? Why now and why take Sam? If they did anything to her . . .

Jack clenched his teeth when Daniel spoke again, pulling him from his thoughts. "What do the Goa'uld want from this place to come in firing like they did?"

"You got me, Daniel. Why do they do anything they do?"

"Obviously, Daniel, there is something they want," Teal'c said. "Perhaps, they have only recently learned of the value of items they left behind years ago."

"It's got to be the mirror," Jack muttered. "There wasn't anything else in that room in my world that was anything more than rocks and stuff."

"'Rocks and stuff?'" Daniel repeated.

"Yeah, crap that didn't do anything. Artifacts."

"Oh, yeah, that's certainly crap."

Jack groaned and the Communicator planted more directions for him. He didn't have time for this. He needed to get Carter back and they needed to get off this world.

Shallan came to Sam soon after Ba'al's grand exit, bringing supplies for Sam's transformation into his personal playmate of the month. Sam didn't budge from her place on the bench where she'd chosen to recline, her over shirt standing in for a pillow.

Small pots, brushes and other beauty implements were spread on the floor next to Sam's bench. Geez, how much stuff did it take to turn a soldier into an Atan, anyway? Sam wondered.

"This isn't necessary, Shallan. Tell Ba'al, I refuse all of this."

"Samantha," she began in softly accented tones, "To struggle against him will be fruitless. He will have what he wants with or without your cooperation."

"Well, you know, it'll have to be without, because I'm certainly not—"

"It is not wise to refuse him," Shallan said. The look on her face bordered on distress and Sam finally sat up and looked at the other woman.

"Shallan, if I didn't know any better, I would think you're worried for me." When she didn't answer, Sam pressed further. "How did you become his lotar, Shallan? Were you first his Atan?"

"No, the Atan is prized, perfect, only for Ba'al's pleasure. A lotar is one trusted as no other. I have always been with Ba'al. I was raised to be his lotar."

"So, he's had you since you were a child? What happened to your parents?"

"It is an honor to be given to your god." Shallan began applying the cosmetics to Sam's face as she spoke. "My mother was honored to be chosen to bear Ba'al's lotar. I was given in service soon after weaning, and I apprenticed to Shapash."

"Shapash was Ba'al's previous lotar?"

"Yes. Ba'al selects one to learn from the elder so that we may serve well. She knew many things and taught me well."

"So, what happened that you replaced her?"

"She had aged beyond her usefulness."

"And?"

"And I was of an age to provide service to my lord. Where are the accoutrements I brought earlier? You need to change for my lord."

"Shallan, I'm not—"

"Samantha," Shallan spoke very softly, "To live, you need to please my lord."

Sam grabbed Shallan's hand, stopping her as she applied a fine powder to Sam's face. "I can't live like that. I'm a scientist, a soldier. I'm not an . . . an Atan."

"You are inexperienced in the ways of pleasuring a god?"

"Oh, geez, yes. And, I really don't want to learn, either, thank you very much."

"Serving one as strong and handsome as my lord Ba'al is an—"

"An honor, I know. You've said. It's an honor I don't want. I'm no one's slave." At Sam's words Shallan's face fell, something similar to shame colored her features. "Shallan, I'm sorry. I—"

"Samantha, you come from a very different life, no? A life in which you are an equal to others?"

"That's tough to explain. Yes and no. As a woman, I am equal; there is very little difference in treatment between men and women in my society. As a soldier, I work for others—I am of lesser rank, though not lesser importance."

"And, those for whom you work, do you not do all that they ask? Do you not strive to please them? Do you not sometimes perform duties that seem distasteful because it is your duty and your honor to do so?"

"Yes, but—"

"This is no different than what is being asked of you now. Serve my master as he wishes and you will not want."

"Except for freedom. Freedom to choose how I wish to live my life, to choose who receives my affections, to choose a myriad of futures for myself."

"You sound like Shapash. She often talked of choices. Choices between service to one's god and service to one's self."

"Shapash sounds like a wise woman."

"She was."

Shallan shook out the clothing Sam had thrown across the room, gently smoothing the wrinkles out of the skirt and robe as she did so. "You have the freedom to choose how you will be treated, Samantha. Dressing in this, no matter how repugnant to you, will please my master.'

"I've worn more clothing in the shower, Shallan. I just can't. I won't. Please, take it away."

She did as requested, carrying the items away when she left. Ba'al would be unhappy. Sam knew that, but she could live knowing that she hadn't demeaned herself simply to stay alive.

The facility in this reality was enormous. Dark and musty, it stretched on indefinitely with one corridor leading into another leading to a staircase leading to more corridors. Jack felt like a mouse in a maze.

Eerie silence greeted the group as they followed Jack away from the destruction incited by the Goa'uld. As far as the group had gone, they had to be underground by now, Jack thought. The communicator hadn't been in his head for a while now. She'd impressed the directions to a "sanctuary" and faded from his head.

Daniel was having a difficult time with this. Granted he'd agreed, even suggested, that there was nothing that could be done to get Carter back immediately. Hell, Jack knew that. He'd have to plan some way to get to her and get her back, that was a given.

Daniel's behavior, though, was something more. Jack couldn't tell if it was because he wasn't talking to the boy or if it was some misplaced feelings for his dead wife being confused with concern for Carter.

Jack could sympathize with the confusion. Hell, he'd felt that way to some degree when Dr. Carter announced her version of O'Neill was her husband. But she had been different from Carter, and he could only assume that Carter was different from Jackson's dead wife. The similarities were purely physical. The differences in their personalities were astronomical. Those differences had to be in a reality that led Carter to marry Jackson.

Focus, O'Neill. One thing at time. To hell with this Daniel and his misguided feelings for Carter. Jack had to get his team and the aliens to safety. Daniel could do his job with the planet's inhabitants to find that damned mirror and he would find a way to get Sam back. Get her back and get the hell out of Dodge. Those were his priorities now.

"Samantha, I'm disappointed that you did not accept my hospitality," Ba'al said, nearly purring.

"As I said before, it's not my style."

"Why were you on the planet?"

"Why are you here?"

He began to walk as he spoke, marking a path around her. "Where is the rest of your team? Where is SG-1?"

"You mean you don't have them already? Your Jaffa are falling down on the job, Ba'al."

"Are they on the planet?"

"I don't know. What planet is that again?"

"Where is your father?"

"Where is yours? Oh, wait, you don't have one, do you?"

He laughed at her question, continuing to circle her as he did. "You amuse me, Samantha. You know what I can do, and yet you continue to bait me."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Where are the Tok'ra? On what planet do they hide?"

"Pluto. It's next to Planet Hollywood and the moon over Miami."

Coming to face her, Ba'al caressed Sam's cheek, and she jerked away from his touch. "So beautiful, so much fire. It is a pity you do not wish to make this easy."

She refused to answer, defiantly glaring at him. Slipping his hand to the back of her head, Ba'al grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Sam dug her nails into the palms of her hands to keep from crying out.

"You leave me no choice," he said. His other hand possessed an instrument resembling a ribbon device, the center stone blue instead of orange, and he activated it inches away from her forehead.

A blinding pain penetrated her brain and coursed through her body, instantly freezing her limbs. Unable to struggle, unable to make a sound, the sudden paralysis left her gasping for air while her mind screamed silently, very aware that she only stood because Ba'al held her. The waves of pain were intense, washing over her in nauseating spasms.

Then, as soon as it began, the pain was over. Waves of a different sort began to roll through her. Pain was transformed to pleasure and incredible tingles flowed within her nerves, filling her with an intense desire for more. Despite her attempt at control, a sensuous moan escaped her. She'd never felt this way in her life and she certainly couldn't believe that this Goa'uld was responsible for something so exquisite rather than hurtful.

Against her will, she felt her body begin to tighten and tremor, and she was surprised how ready she was to climax without any physical contact. That sensation of nearness rocked through her, as if any minute she would touch heaven but, as she neared, it was pulled away. Ba'al shut off the device, leaving Sam sagging against him, breathless and wanting.

"I can give you either, Samantha," he said.

She felt his breath against her face as he spoke, and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. With the residual sensations shivering within, she didn't feel the revulsion she normally would have at such a thought.

"Great pleasure or great pain at my discretion. Think about which you desire when I return for our next session."

Without warning, he removed his support from her and she collapsed onto the floor.

"There is a doorway here," the melodic voice whispered in Jack's head.

"No. There isn't."

He felt Daniel's hand on his shoulder. "Who are you talking to, Jack?"

"The Communicator. She says there's a door here." Jack ran his hands over the solid wall searching for a mechanism to open it. He could find nothing.

"Here?" Daniel repeated.

"Yes. She says there's a doorway here. She's insisting." Jack turned to the three aliens who still accompanied them. "Do you know? Can you do your thing here and open the wall?"

They blinked their large eyes at him and remained mute. Their inability to understand was getting old.

"Daniel, you're our version of the communicator. Can't you . . . sign something to them? Make them understand?"

Daniel sighed before attempting what Jack suggested. He waved his hands over the wall, talking a little louder than necessary, as if the increased volume would help.

"Daniel, we don't know that they're deaf, just that they don't understand," Jack said, clearly frustrated.

"Jack, you ask for my help and then you criticize? I'm sorry. I'm doing the best that I can. You're the one with the Communicator in your head—why can't you get them to understand?"

That was it, Jack thought. Maybe that was the solution. He went to the tallest silver being. Making eye contact, he copied the Communicator's method of first contact by reaching up and placing his hand on the alien's head. The being relented, letting Jack touch him. Jack closed his eyes, mentally directing his thoughts toward the alien.

Sam had to get out of here. God only knew what had happened to Jack and Daniel and Teal'c on the planet. What if they thought she was dead? Why hadn't Jack attempted a rescue? She would if it were him. Hell, they'd all gone above and beyond when one was missing.

But, she was still in the small room on Ba'al's ship, finally pacing the floor. It looked that the only person that would be able to save Sam was herself. She tried to access the ventilation shaft, but there was no way to climb up high enough for it. The bench was immovable and had been placed on the wrong wall for access. She couldn't get the control panel open, no matter how hard she tried, and her fingertips were bruised and bloodied for her efforts.

A soft hissing behind her indicating the door was opening took her away from her thoughts. The urge to look at the person entering the room was overwhelming, as was though the ensuing quiet after the door slid shut. Warm hands gripped her shoulders and slipped down her arms in almost a caressing way.

"Ker'ida," Ba'al whispered near her ear, "my dear one, are you ready to cooperate?"

Sam stifled a shudder at his touch and closed her eyes, refusing to turn and speak to him. His grip tightened around her bare arms.

"Why were you on the planet?" his words ruffled her hair sending shivers down her spine. She still refused to answer him.

Ba'al's fingers squeezed into her flesh, and she knew there would be bruises from the pressure. "Where are the Tok'ra?"

She stubbornly continued her silence.

He dropped his hands from her arms and walked slowly around her, one hand caressing her waist through her t-shirt. "You are making this more difficult than it needs to be."

As his face neared hers, Sam focused her eyes on the wall behind the Goa'uld. She kept her stare on the wall even when his fingers bit into her cheeks. "You need to answer, ker'ida, to make this much easier. It is your choice."

His lips brushed over hers and she stiffened, course facial hair chafing her skin. Jerking out of his grasp, she backed several steps away from him. "Don't even think about it," she threatened.

"Ah, there's the fire. Tell me why you are here."

"Ask your Jaffa who brought me here."

"What do the Tau'ri need from this world?"

Sam attempted a laugh as she shook her head. "Give it up, Ba'al. I don't know anything that can help you."

"I'll decide that, Samantha," he said. He stepped closer to her, stroking his goatee. "Where are your friends?"

Holding her ground, Sam clenched her jaw angrily. This was going no where. She didn't know anything that would help him, whatever it was he thought he wanted, and she wasn't about to give up Jack, Teal'c and Daniel or the aliens below.

When she didn't answer, Ba'al raised his hand and backhanded her. Blinding pain shattered through her head at the unexpected contact. She licked her lips and tasted blood.

"I have no desire to mar your beauty. I only desire your cooperation and acceptance of my offer. You make me do this, Samantha."

She hoped her voice didn't shake as she spoke. "Yeah, whatever. If you plan to kill me and throw me in a sarcophagus, I'll be healed."

"So, you still long for death, ker'ida? There are many ways to die, as many as the stars. Will you long for it if you die at my will again and again?" He yanked her to him by the neck of her black t-shirt as he raised his other hand, the blue stone of the device glowing menacingly within the palm of hand.

Sam didn't answer him. She didn't know the answer herself. God help her, she hoped she didn't have to find out.

Brown eyes blinked open and searched the green eyes of the alien. Dropping his hand, Jack waited for the silver being to do . . . something.

Daniel's voice broke the silence. "Jack? What are you doing?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jack answered, "Nothing. This is useless." Looking down to the floor and then back at Teal'c, he made a decision. "Teal'c, blow it open."

"No, Jack, you can't!" Daniel said. He stood in front of Teal'c staff weapon. "You don't know what's behind there. You could kill—"

"You got any better ideas? No? Teal'c, do it." He started to walk away, to herd the aliens back from the wall so they wouldn't be injured, pointedly ignoring the soft whisper in his head.

"Jack—you can't take your anger out on innocents. It isn't their fault that Carter's gone."

"She isn't gone, Daniel. She's been taken to God knows where and . . . and—"

"And you need to play the hero, Jack."

"Go to hell, Daniel. You've lost your wife, so it's okay that Carter's . . ."

"If that's what you want to believe—"

"Daniel, O'Neill, now is not the time—no good can come of these words."

The being that Jack had touched placed a hand on his arm, catching his attention. Jack turned to face him. The being repeated the same gesture Jack had tried and rested the palm of his hand against Jack's forehead.

Daniel stepped closer to the two. "Jack?"

The man's words faded away as images flooded Jack's mind. Images of scores of aliens, of the massacre that had occurred long ago, of the panic that spread through the planet. Suddenly, Jack knew how to access the doorway.

Pain. Throbbing, burning, red-hot pain radiated through her skull. She didn't want to open her eyes. Opening her eyes would hurt. The light would penetrate into her brain like shards of glass into flesh, she imagined. Breathing in, her ribs let her know they hadn't been spared re-injury.

Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings, aware that she was lying on the floor. Presumably, in the same place she landed after Ba'al had finished with her. And she was also oddly conscious of her chest being cold.

She didn't remember exactly what had happened to trigger his response. She had only brief flashes of memory. His voice reverberating in anger. His fingers digging into her skin. Her refusal of . . .

Sam supposed hurting meant she was still alive. For how much longer though, she wondered.

"Foolish woman for all your intelligence," a gentle voice said. A soft hand lightly brushed her forehead with a damp cloth.

"W-what? Shallan?"

Sam reluctantly opened her eyes to see a blurry image of the lotar, her short, spiky hair a yellow halo illuminated by the overhead lighting.

"All you needed to do is obey Lord Ba'al. None of this would have happened."

Sam felt for her teeth with her tongue, finding an iron-like taste. At least all of her teeth were intact. "I can't, I won't tell him what he wants. I can't be what he wants."

"It would be better if you were injured worse?" Shallan helped Sam sit up, wincing with her as Sam painfully eased back against the wall. "It would be better if you were dead?"

Looking down, Sam saw the reason for her chill. Her t-shirt had been ripped open exposing her white cotton bra and the fading bruises from her injuries a week ago. Closing the ragged edges of the shirt and tying the ends together for modesty, she spoke softly. "I need to leave. I need to go home."

"If you wish to find the chance to leave, you need to live."

"To find the chance?" Ba'al's most trusted slave suggesting . . . "Escape?" she whispered.

"Shh, we must not speak of such things."

"You would help me escape? Why?"

"You must rest now. My master will return shortly." Shallan gathered her things to leave.

"Shallan, don't go. Help me."

"This isn't the time, Samantha. Please my master now. There will be time later," she said cryptically before leaving.

"No, Shallan, there won't! Shallan!" Sam yelled hoarsely at the door as it closed. "Shallan! Damn it!" She pounded on the door until her fists were puffy and bruised.

Unbidden, tears began to drip down her cheeks and she stubbornly wiped them away, slapping at the door one last time. She wouldn't do this. He wouldn't get to her.

God, she sounded pathetic!

She had to find a way to get out of there. Sam began formulating a plan. If she could get Shallan's cooperation, God willing, the next time Shallan returned would be the last.

Feeling disconnected from the rest of the group in the corridor, Jack stepped back from the being and walked to the wall. Mysteriously, the being vanished.

"Jack, what's going on?" Daniel asked, his astonishment evident in the rush of his words.

Jack didn't answer. The wall was different than the rest of the building materials. Smooth, gray, metallic, the wall suddenly seemed to exude a pulsing luminosity. God, whatever these beings had done to him, Jack certainly hoped that it wouldn't be permanent.

The pulses were the solution, the code to opening the door. How he knew that, Jack didn't know. He began to count the pattern of the pulses, seeing their power fluctuate. The pattern seemed to slow like someone's breathing when they slept, slow to the point of time stopping. The feeling was surreal.

"Jack," Daniel said again. The sound of his voice seemed incredibly slow, too, like a record being played at the wrong speed.

Without taking his eyes from the wall, Jack spoke. "When I say go, walk through the wall."

"Walk through it? How—it's solid," Daniel argued.

Jack ignored the dissent, directing Teal'c instead. "Teal'c, take one of the aliens and when I say go, do it. Do you understand?"

"I do, O'Neill." Teal'c reached for one of the two remaining aliens, extending his open hand palm up. The alien seemed to understand and put his larger slender hand within the meatier one of the Jaffa's. The two walked toward the wall, hesitating to wait for Jack's signal.

"Now!"

The two passed through the wall as if they were walking through a waterfall and then they disappeared.

"Oh my God," Daniel said quietly, exhaling in surprise. "That isn't possible."

"Okay, Daniel. It's your turn."

"Jack," Daniel shook his head. "I don't think—"

"I don't need you to think, Daniel. I just need you to do it. When I say go, it'll be okay. Don't ask how I know. I just do. You just have to trust me."

Daniel stared at Jack for a long moment before shaking his head again. "Alright." He reached for the lone silver alien and waited for Jack to say the word.

Jack watched the wall and the pulsations began to slow again. When the fluctuations within the wall reached the point where Jack knew it was safe, he ordered Daniel to walk through. Just like before, Daniel and the alien passed through the wall and disappeared on the other side.

Jack watched and waited and, when the time was right, he followed them through.

Shaking out her BDU shirt, Sam struggled to put it on over her shredded t-shirt. God, her ribs hurt worse now than they did when Jack had landed on her at the beginning of this nightmare.

Shallan hadn't been gone for very long. Sam wished she hadn't passed out. Not knowing how long it was since Ba'al had been there was . . . disconcerting. With luck, she'd convince Shallan to help her before she had to see him again.

She pulled herself onto the bench and rested. It was as hard as the floor yet she felt more comfortable there. Elevated. Easier to think. Giggling, she realized she'd been elevated before she'd moved. She was in orbit over the planet. Couldn't get much more elevated than that.

The guys obviously hadn't made it on the mothership for a rescue attempt either. She hoped that didn't mean that . . . that . . . Food. She needed food. Her mind was beginning to wander.

If she couldn't focus, she wouldn't be able to escape. To escape, she needed Shallan's help to get out of the cell. If she could get out, she could get to a ring transport and she would be home free.

Except that Ba'al's Jaffa would follow her when they found she'd gotten away. She needed to come up with a way to keep them from getting back to the planet right after her. She needed help. There was no way she could do this alone.

Shutting her eyes, she began to slow her breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Panic would get her no where but dead and that's where she was headed. Down panic road. Inhale. Exhale. In with the good, out with the bad. Great, she sounded like an exercise guru from a bad yoga video.

The door slipped open. The footfalls fell heavy on the stone floor. Sam knew it would begin again.

On the other side of the wall was an environment Jack never would have expected. Though he could only assume that was where they were because the area opened up into an enormous underground paradise. He wondered if they'd been transported to Middle Earth or a Jules Verne novel. Lush plants resembling a tropical rainforest filled the area, the sound of water trickling in the distance.

And numerous silver beings in all shapes and sizes and, presumably, ages began surrounding them

"Okay, Daniel. Do your thing," Jack ordered. "Communicate. Linguicize with them."

"Jack, you're the one with the communicator in your head—can't you?"

"If I could, do you think I would ask for your help?"

"Uhm, okay." Daniel waved at the strangers who looked so much like the aliens they'd protected. "Hi, I'm Daniel. This is Jack and Teal'c. We aren't going to hurt you."

"Daniel, I do not think this is working," Teal'c said, uncharacteristic worry slipping into his voice. He was being crowded by several aliens touching his dark skin with a not-so-unexpected curiosity.

Daniel turned to the two surviving beings they'd been able to save. They were silently interacting with the others as if they hadn't seen them in a very, very long time.

"Jack, I don't think our guys have seen these guys since the Goa'uld came the last time."

"What makes you think that?"

"Look at 'em," Daniel smiled as the aliens reached out for their own kind, resting palms on faces in comfort and greeting. "I don't think they'd act this way if they'd left recently."

"That's great. We're watching a family reunion when we need to find the mirror." Jack stepped up on a large square block. God knows what it was, but it fit the bill. "Okay, everybody, you folks may be safe here, but out there are the Goa'uld, and they aren't going to stop until they find what they came for. Can anybody understand me? There was one of you who could before and she's inside my head. If someone—anyone—can get her out and can help us . . . please."

The group of aliens moved and shuffled, their large eyes blinking, and a small creature stepped forward. It had the same lean build, the same pewter hair, the same green eyes as the others, but there was an air of youth to the being, and a delicacy, a femininity that reminded him of the Communicator.

Jack instinctively stepped down from the square and approached the being. She extended her hand, but she was so small in stature that Jack had to kneel before her so she could place her palm on his forehead. He closed his eyes and waited.

Sam didn't know how much more she could take. When Ba'al had last been there, he'd been gentle. Playing her against herself. She curled into a ball on the bench with her back to the door, tucking her knees against her chest as she remembered what she could.

Again and again, he brought her to the precipice without reaching ecstasy with that damned mutant ribbon device. Finally, when she thought she would die from the extreme sensations, he stopped. He let her breathe.

Sam squeezed her eyes tight and tears dripped out of the corners. She didn't want to remember any of it, but memories washed over her like chilly waves.

When he was finished, he interrogated her again. She laughed at the irony.

Information in an alternate universe.

She might as well roll the dice. Anything she said had just as much potential of being correct and being incorrect. How many people would die if she gave away something wrong. So, instead of playing the odds, she said nothing. And then the pain began.

When it was over, he held her close, as if she was a lover and not a prisoner. "Ker'ida," Ba'al whispered. The word was hot against her skin. "You respond like none other."

The words turned her stomach. The nausea so severe that she was certain she would have vomited if she'd had anything to lose. That was one good thing about not having eaten.

The door slipped open, yet she could barely discern footsteps. Shallan.

"Samantha," she whispered with that sweetly accented voice. Her hand rested lightly on Sam's shoulder.

"Help me, Shallan."

"Samanatha, just give in."

"That's not going to happen. He'll kill me first."

"Not if you give in."

"I can't. I can't live that way."

Sam eased onto her back. "I need your help, Shallan. You know I don't belong here. You know he will kill me before he is through. You don't want that to happen either. Help me, Shallan."

Tears streaking her face, Shallan turned away from her. "I cannot. I cannot disobey my Lord. Neither should you."

"He is not my god, Shallan. He isn't a god at all. He is a parasite. He was human like you, like me, before he was imprisoned in his own body by the Goa'uld—the parasites like the Jaffa keep in their bellies.

"Listen to your conscience, Shallan. Remember what Shapash taught you. You can choose to do something right, to fix what he has done. Please."

When Jack opened his eyes, he found that he lay of a . . . smooth, hard block that evidently served as a bed or something. Looking above him, he saw that he was still in the cave or cavern or wherever the Communicator had directed them. "Daniel," he whispered. "Teal'c?" His head ached, but he felt rested despite the dull throb. Whatever the alien did, he knew he didn't hear the Communicator inside his brain any longer.

Sitting up, he saw that he was alone in a room of sorts, the walls were living plants. Outside the door was the small silver being he'd allowed to touch his head. She was the last thing he remembered. "What did you do to me?"

"I aided you. You were troubled." She spoke with a similarly musical voice.

"The Communicator said that she was the only one who was capable of learning our language, of learning to speak."

"That is true, O'Neill, but with her passing, the ability chooses another. I am that one. I will assist you as you did our brethren."

"All we need is that mirror. The one that was near the Stargate four years ago."

She nodded. "Your friends are with the object. We know many things and are capable of much, but the object is one to which we do not subscribe."

"Why?"

"It is dangerous. Rechoosing one's path, rethinking one's choice. These are matters not of our decision, not for our benefit. These are matters best left alone."

Jack smiled weakly. "I couldn't agree with you more. But I am not of this," he looked around and gestured to encompass the room, "this universe, this reality. I am from another choice in that damned mirror."

"I understand, O'Neill. I saw much within your soul, much more than my predecessor. This is why your friends are allowed access. So you can return and set things right."

"I can't do that. I can't leave without Carter."

"Yes, I understand. We must see to the object. Come."

Jack stood, knowing he didn't have much choice. If they could find home, they could hold it open until he found Carter.

"Come with me, I can help you," Sam urged. She was at the ring transport near the launch bay doing a final check of her gear that Shallan retrieved. She had her weapon back and her small duffle. Subtly sabotaging the mothership had been risky business, but they'd managed to inflict damage that would keep Ba'al and his forces on the ship for sometime.

Having disabled the controls for the launch doors, Ba'al would not be able to send any death gliders out until someone could figure out the various locking codes and other time bombs she'd programmed within the ship's system.

She'd also disabled all of the ring transports except this one. Shallan would do that after she left, though Sam could probably figure out a way to make their transport the last if she had time.

"I cannot, Samantha. My place is here."

"But, you know what he's capable of. If he finds that you—"

"He will not. I will be unconscious in the cell when he discovers you have gone. I will be safe. Go now, before it is too late."

Shallan pulled Sam into a quick embrace before stepping out of the rings and activating the transport. In a moment, the dim, claustrophobic corridor of Ba'al's mothership disappeared and in its place was the darkened Gate room on 233.

Finger ready on the trigger, she immediately assessed her surroundings for hostiles, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the low light. Some of Ba'al's Jaffa would still be around looking for SG-1 and for whatever else Ba'al had sent them after. She certainly didn't want to run into them for a second time.

"Colonel? What's your location?" she called into her radio. Please, God, let him be all right. She closed her eyes and held her breath while she waited for a response.

"Carter?" His surprise crackled through the static of the radio.

"Yes, sir."

"You okay?"

"Yes, sir—where are you? I'm kinda exposed here."

"You wouldn't be able to find us. Find a secure location and let me know. I'll come get you."

"Yes, sir."

Following his orders, Sam headed into the dark facility again to find someplace where she'd feel a little safer to wait for Jack.

Daniel followed Jack out the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jack asked, not breaking stride.

"Going with you."

"The hell you are."

"The hell I'm not!"

"Oh, for crying out loud! She said she's okay."

"She didn't sound okay—and you need someone to watch your back," Daniel reasoned.

"I'll get her down here safely. You stay with Teal'c and keep trying to get that damned mirror to work so we all can go back to our lives."

Jack stopped walking to look at Daniel. He spoke low and slow so there was no misunderstanding. "That's an order, Daniel, and I damn straight don't want to have an argument—I don't have time for it." Without waiting for a response, Jack walked off, leaving Daniel behind.

"Carter?" Jack called, entering the dark room in which she'd concealed herself. His flashlight glinted over her weapon when she lowered it. The beam floated over her torn black t-shirt, her battered face, her left eye swollen and discolored.

Closing the door, Jack struggled to remain impassive, though all he wanted to do was find whoever hurt her and give them what they'd dished out.

"Hey, Colonel. How did things go down here?" she said, obviously working hard to keep her voice light.

"Not great. What happened?"

"Are we okay here? Should we talk somewhere else?"

"We're okay, I think—it's been quiet for a while. Who did this to you?"

Sam turned away from the intensity of his stare. "It doesn't matter. It's over, and I fixed it so that the Jaffa can't get back down here. At least for a while."

"Sam," Jack began softly, "Tell me what happened."

He wanted to hold her, but he didn't. Doing so might be more than both could handle and it wasn't the time to give in to emotion.

Her head shook from side to side. "I'm okay, Jack. Really. From what I can remember—"

"You don't remember?"

"I was knocked out at least once, but—"

"But what?" He clenched his jaw, the muscle in his cheek jumping. "Your shirt's ripped. You've been beaten—"

The timbre in his voice drew her eyes back to his. "He didn't rape me, if that's what you think."

Jack didn't say anything, though he could feel his jaw clenching in anger, his stomach in knots. He just waited for her to explain. After a few moments, she spoke again.

"He wanted to know the Tok'ra's location, among other things. I wouldn't tell him. I fought him when he was going to use a . . . device on me and he hit me. Hard. I don't remember much after that." She paused, her eyes focusing on a point somewhere behind him as he watched her expression turn distant. He wanted to prod the story out of her, but knew that he couldn't.

"When I woke up, my shirt was torn, but I was still clothed. My ribs hurt and my head's killing me, but I'm okay. I would feel it if . . . anything else . . . I would know." She closed her eyes and frowned. She said as much as she was going to say. The rest didn't matter. What she left out didn't change the truth of her words to him. "I would know."

He reached for her, touching her hand before pulling her into an embrace. She didn't fight the touch. She needed his strength and she melted against him, burying her face into his neck. He held her close, careful not to hurt her further. "It's okay, Sam," he whispered into her hair, following his words with a light kiss. "Whatever happened, it's okay."

"Jack," her voice was stronger, more assured. "I would know."

He dropped the subject. Fraiser could decide exactly what happened to her when they got back. "How did you get away?"

"Shallan, a slave, helped me." Sam stepped back to meet his eyes. "She wouldn't leave with me. She wouldn't abandon her god."

"And that was?"

"It doesn't matter, Jack. I delayed their ability to return here for a while, but my sabotage won't keep the Goa'uld away forever."

"Yeah, okay. Let's go." Jack checked the corridor before leading Sam through the labyrinth of the facility. While still on guard, he was reasonably confident that all of the Jaffa had been dispatched. He moved quickly, keeping an eye on her over his shoulder.

"What did I miss?"

"The end of life on this planet, if the 'goold'

get to finish what they started."

"Any luck with the mirror?"

"Daniel's trying to get the thing to work right now."

"What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know, Carter. I didn't learn to tune the damned thing, the last time. The inhabitants we found don't know either."

"The Communicator can't help?"

He stopped walking before he spoke. "She's dead, along with the other three you met."

"Oh. I didn't—she was only zatted once, they got the drop on me."

"They must be wired different from us—one shock killed her."

"God," she said, her voice breathy with emotion.

"Carter, I'm of the opinion we should get Teal'c and Daniel back to the gate, evac the rest of the aliens from this world to some place safe, and just stay in this reality."

"But, if the mirror works . . . "

"It wasn't when I left, and I don't want to risk the time you bought us jacking with it. We're alive and I think we should leave well enough alone."

"Jack?" she asked softly, placing her hand on his arm.

"I know, you've said we don't belong here. But," he paused for a moment before finishing his thought. "But, what if we do? What if the entire multiverse has conspired to leap us out of our reality for our own good? What if this is where we're supposed to be? It would make everything simpler, wouldn't it?"

"For who? For Daniel who sees his dead wife every time he looks at me? For our friends and family back home who think we're dead? God, Jack, can you be that selfish?"

"I nearly lost you."

"You've never had me, Jack. Not yet. I'm not yours to lose."

Her words echoed in the empty corridor, the ensuing silence tightened around Jack's heart. "If Daniel's figured out how to turn the damn mirror on when we get there, then, fine. Find home."

"And if he hasn't?"

"Then we're going back through the gate."

"A cosmic flip of the coin?"

"Something like that. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Hold my hand," Jack ordered, "and trust me. You won't be hurt."

Sam did so and stepped through what appeared to be a solid wall into the subterranean paradise. "Oh my God."

"Yeah. Looks like a hidden piece of Heaven might, doesn't it? Except there's no sky. These folks are imprisoned as much as anyone else the Goa'uld conquer."

Sam nodded. It wasn't like Jack to sympathize so easily with aliens. Obviously, these beings had done something to justify his alliance. Like Lieutenant Tyler had done.

"The mirror's this way." Jack led her through the maze of plant life and saw that there were rooms carved out of the tropical vegetation. In one of the rooms were Daniel and Teal'c.

"Where are the others?"

"They've kept the mirror safe because they understand it's potential. They've vowed not to use it because the temptation is too great. Their scientists who knew how it operated were killed in the first wave of attacks years ago."

"Yeah, I remember the Communicator saying something about that part."

Daniel obviously heard her voice and turned to greet them. "Sam? Oh my God, your face. What—"

Jack must have cut him a look, because he shut up faster than Sam would have thought possible. "I'm okay. Really, even though it's a lot worse than it looks." She tried to smile as she joked.

Jack said, "Any luck?"

"Yes," Daniel answered. "It's working. We went forward a couple of alternates and then back to where we started. I remembered what Sam had said about how the realities were arranged and I didn't want to lose where we started. I thought it would take us longer to get there if I did."

Sam nodded. "Well, let's get searching for home."

"Wait—go back!" Jack ordered. Daniel worked the controller so that they saw the previous universes. "There! That's it."

"You're certain?" Daniel asked.

Sam stepped closer to the reflection and peered into the dimly lit reflection. "That's where I took Cassandra all those years ago."

"Yeah. After Hammond ordered it to be destroyed, we spoke. I thought it would be better to secure it rather than destroy it. He agreed."

"And you put it there because it was deep underground and basically impenetrable if the door was sealed."

"Right. The door can only be opened from the outside. Anyone who comes in will set off motion detectors that will alert security officers above ground. The room is highly monitored."

"Why not let anyone else know?" Sam asked.

"Would you have left it there without trying to make one of those?" Jack nodded toward the controller in Daniel's hand.

Sam gave a reluctant grin. "No, I guess not." Sam looked at the reflection of the other universe. "Are you sure that's our home?" she asked.

"It looks right, Carter, but there's only one way to find out." Jack reached out to take his gear from Teal'c. "Teal'c, take care of . . . everything I would have, would ya?" Jack said. He held his hand out to shake the Jaffa's.

"I plan to do just that, O'Neill. You both, and our O'Neill and Samantha Carter, will be greatly missed."

Jack turned to the other man. "Daniel. Well, you know I hate goodbyes . . ."

"Yes. Yes, I do. But I'm glad to be able to tell you goodbye this time, Jack," he answered, extending his hand to shake Jack's. "I'm sorry about—"

"No, I am." Jack looked past Daniel's shoulder at Sam."

"I understand completely, Jack."

"Look out for Jacob, will ya?" Jack said before letting the younger man's hand go. He reached toward the surface of the mirror. "Major, coming home?"

"Give me a second, okay?"

He nodded and touched the smooth surface. Instantly, he appeared as part of the shimmering reflection facing them.

As Jack watched, Sam turned away from the mirror to Daniel and looked at him helplessly, trying to find the words to say goodbye. Daniel locked eyes with her and said, "Teal'c?"

"I will be outside, Daniel."

"Daniel, I—"

"I know."

"I won't forget you."

"How could you, you'll see me every day," he said.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," Daniel said, grinning apologetically. "I guess Jack's rubbing off on me."

She giggled softly as she spoke. "That's never a good thing."

"Tell me about it."

Daniel's expression softened as her eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears. He saw her lip begin to quiver. "Come here," he said, holding his arms open. She slipped into them, wrapping her arms around his waist, dropping her head to his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered. Grasping his hands within her own, Sam backed out of the hug. "You are very special, Daniel. I'm glad she was smart enough to see that."

"So am I," he said.

They stared at each other for another moment. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Here." He took a small photo out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

"What's this?"

"It's the three of us: Meredith, Sam and me. So that you know somewhere you made a different choice and things still worked out. Meredith is proof."

The tears that threatened broke free and trickled down her cheeks. "I can't take this, Daniel. It's yours."

"No. It was hers, and I want you to have it. Please. Add it to your collection."

She nodded, tucking the photo into the journal in her gear bag. "I'd better . . ."

"Yeah," Daniel spoke softly, nodding to the mirror behind her. "He's waiting."

Still staring at her, Daniel leaned in to kiss her. He lightly brushed his mouth against hers, applying gentle pressure against her bruised lips. He broke contact for moment, closed his blue eyes and kissed her again. When he opened his eyes to look at her, he said, "Like a brother."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. I sensed that."

Sam stepped back from Daniel and reached out to the mirror. "Goodbye, Daniel." She touched the surface and vanished into her universe.

Sam pulled up on her motorcycle outside of Jack's house. She couldn't sleep. She hadn't intended to come here. The motorcycle seemed to have an autopilot.

The return trip to the SGC had been bittersweet. In the few moments they had before security reached them, she'd kissed him in the dark one last time.

After that, chaos ensued. Explaining who they were, going through a repeat of what had happened in the previous reality, but, thankfully, without discovering that this Daniel was also her spouse. Finally, through record checking and hours of interrogations, all agreed that she and Jack were home. Finally.

Riding into the crisp night, she'd intended to just enjoy Colorado. Janet didn't want her leaving the facility, but she was so sick of the place, she pushed the issue. She had to get away. Get out. Get home.

She'd was planning to stay with the SGC. She didn't want to leave her work, no matter how much she wanted to be with Jack.

He didn't want her running around the universe without him, so he stayed, too. That meant the past week hadn't happened. They were back at square one, but with concrete knowledge of the extent their feelings. Well, she had knowledge of his feelings.

She shouldn't be at his home. She should just drive away, leave it all unsaid. But, as much as she wanted to, she needed to see him. She needed to settle things between them. Reluctantly, she dismounted the bike and headed for his door.

Beer in hand, wearing a pair of faded jeans and an unbuttoned flannel shirt he'd thrown on after he'd given up on sleep, Jack reclined in an old Adirondack chair on his deck staring up at the stars when he heard a motorcycle on his drive. The engine cut off and he groaned. Just what he needed—company. Barefoot, he walked around the side of the house to the front door behind Sam.

"Hey," he said softly, spooking her as she reached for the doorbell.

"Jack! Colonel—Sir." She spun around at the sound of his voice.

"That's me, man of many names—answers to none. I'm around back." He nodded for her to follow him and he went to the back of the house, leaving her to follow.

"Beer?" he asked before tipping the brown longneck bottle up to his lips.

"No thanks. Driving."

"Suit yourself." He pulled up another faded wooden chair for her opposite him and then plopped back into his; casually stretching his long legs over a matching ottoman as if he didn't have a care in the world. Placing her helmet behind her, she sat on the chair's edge, propping her elbows on her knees.

"So, major, what's on your mind? Why are you out and about on this fine night?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh? Maybe Dr. Fraiser can give you something for that."

"Don't do this. Don't be an ass."

He took another swig of beer. "That would be 'don't be an ass, sir,' wouldn't it, major?"

God, he was in full-form. Sam stood up shaking her head. "Coming by was a mistake. I'm sorry." She started to leave only to be stopped by his hand on her arm when she brushed past him.

"No. No, I'm sorry, Sam."

"Yes, right now you are."

"What do you want from me? We didn't have to come back. If we stayed there, we could've . . . "

"And it wouldn't have been real—we didn't belong there. I couldn't live a lie."

"And what are we doing now?"

"You got me, sir. What are we doing now?"

"I don't want to go back to the way we were before, Sam. I can't pretend that I don't . . . that I don't care."

"I know."

"And there's no reason why we should have to pretend."

"What are you saying, Jack?"

"I'm saying that life's short, you know? And, that there's nothing wrong with our spending time together."

Sam stared at him, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears. "No, on the surface there's nothing wrong with it."

"There's nothing wrong," he stroked his fingers over her bare arm, "with me touching you on occasion."

"Other than it might lead to more."

"Sam, I lied when I said I didn't remember what'd I'd said to you. I love you. I can't turn it off whether you want me to or not."

"I don't, Jack."

"What?"

"I don't want you to turn it off."

She sat on the footstool, planting her legs on either side of his so that she straddled his knees between hers and searched his eyes. "I love you, too, for what it's worth." She saw his chocolate eyes widen at her words, but they never left hers. Instead, she saw all she felt reflected in them.

"It's worth a lot, Sam."

"Is it? We're in an unsolvable situation, Jack."

He took the now empty beer bottle over to the green plastic trash can near the back door before answering her. "No we're not. I can leave the program. I can retire."

"You don't want to do that anymore than I do."

Jack threw the glass bottle into the trash can, shattering it in the process. "I want my life back, Sam. I want it back, and I want to share it with you."

Sam went to him. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and never let him go, but she couldn't. God, why did this have to be so hard? Laying her hand on his back, she had no words, nothing to say to reassure him. She ached inside, too, at the thought of walking away from what they could have, what they could be together. "I wish we could find a middle ground. I wish . . ."

"I know. I do, too."

"So, what do we do? Where do we go from here?"

He finally turned to face her, quickly swiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand when he did. "Looks like we go nowhere, Major. At least for now."

"Yeah."

Despite the danger, Sam stepped closer to him and leaned her head against his chest, breathing in the warm spicy scent that would forever mean Jack. Closing her eyes, she melted into him when she felt his fingers at her neck tenderly stroking her sensitive skin, sending tremors through her body, and she clenched her teeth to keep from gasping at his touch. It took all the control she had to not turn her face up to his and taste his lips again, just one more time.

"Sam, I meant it when I said that the only thing I know I want in my future is you."

"Jack . . . don't say . . . just don't. We can't commit to more, it would be irresponsible." She was on the verge of tears herself. Clearing her throat and backing away from him, she said. "I'd better go. It's late."

"Sam, stay. Stay with me."

Her voice broke when she answered. "Jack, I can't—"

"You had a couple of beers and didn't feel comfortable driving home. We watched the Simpsons' marathon on cable. Fell asleep on the couch." Jack said the words persuasively, spinning a convincing cover story while his eyes never left hers.

"Jack," she whispered. They were playing with fire.

"What? We're just a couple of friends watching television. Only you and I know the truth. I promise we won't jeopardize your career. You set the rules, Sam. I just don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you."

"Just TV?" she asked, seeing the eagerness in his liquid chocolate eyes.

"If that's what you want."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

She slipped her hand in his and he grasped it tightly. Jack draped his arm over her shoulders as they headed inside.

"Wait. My bike. I need to put it in the garage."

"Leave it, Major. We've got nothing to hide."