Two days after her brief talk with Landry where she painfully recounted all of Woolsey's memories, Sam sat on the couch in her apartment staring at a blank tv screen. She'd been released from the infirmary with a cast, but Dr. Lam had declared her temporarily unfit for duty due to her mental condition. General Landry had given her a two week leave of absence to try and get her wits back before she would have to undergo an I.O.A. interrogation concerning the details of her botched mission.

Landry had also told her that he needed the time to look into a few things, and that the delay would work to his advantage.

It hadn't mattered. Sam's mind was a mess. She wanted to blame that on Stevenson but she knew the truth…she'd done things that were out of character, things that she never would have done in her right mind…the thing was, she couldn't remember having gone astray. Trying to put the pieces together and figure out where she had gone wrong consumed her every waking thought, awash in a constant sea of guilt.

Her only saving grace was that her plans had failed, and she blessed Atlantis for that. She couldn't have lived with herself if…ah, who was she kidding. She couldn't live with herself now, and had ended up in a waking, yet comatose state because of it.

And she knew it. She realized her situation, her inaction, every train of thought and backtracked it to its source. Sam was more aware now than she had ever been, yet she was still disconnected and figured she would continue to be so until she figured out where she had gone wrong. So far, her logic was circular, and she wasn't getting anywhere.

Outside her thoughts her apartment's doorbell rang. She heard it, but didn't respond for a few seconds. She sluggishly dragged herself to the door, still processing Woolsey's memories and her own in a continuous analytical nightmare, and pulled it open, not even bothering to look through the peep hole. If it was a psychotic murderer on the other side she didn't care…she probably deserved it anyway.

"Hi, Sam," O'Neill said sympathetically.

"General," she said, half waking up.

O'Neill raised an eyebrow at the 'General' part. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," Sam said, stepping aside. "Sorry about the mess."

"Ah," O'Neill said, waving it off. "Looks clean compared to mine."

"If you don't mind me asking…why are you here?"

"I heard what happened to you," he said, sitting down on the couch. She sat down next to him…leaving the middle cushion between them.

"And?" she asked, a bit rudely.

"And," he echoed.

"Come to chew me out for losing three ships," she floated.

"No," he said gently, staring into her eyes.

She looked away from him. "What do you want?" she asked, her nerves raw.

"I think I know what you're going through."

Sam scoffed at that. "No you don't."

"You're questioning your own judgment," O'Neill continued. "I've been doing that a lot lately. I don't really like who I'm seeing in the mirror anymore…and not just because of the gray."

"What do you see?" Sam asked meekly, not looking at him.

"A stuffy bureaucrat," O'Neill answered, not pulling any punches. "A pencil-pusher…desk jockey…memo-writing paper monkey."

Sam couldn't help but smile, but it was short lived. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"The point is it's not me. I've been aware of it for some time. I don't think you did…and it's just now catching up with you."

"How could I have been so stupid," Sam said, her walls breaking down followed by another wave of tears.

"Well, let's start with why you didn't take the out I gave you," O'Neill said slowly.

"I thought we needed Atlantis."

"Who's 'we?'"

"The SGC…so it would give us some more political weight to throw around."

"To use against the I.O.A.?" O'Neill guessed.

Sam nodded.

"Been there," O'Neill said candidly. "About a year ago a proposal came across the monstrosity I like to call a desk detailing a way for the SGC to generate some extra revenue. Revenue that would be used as backup if we ever needed to ditch the funds coming from the I.O.A. The plan was to open up an interstellar Wal-Mart using items and resources that we had at our disposal…all off world, of course."

"The Ian Proposal," Sam said, remembering. "It got axed."

"It got axed before I had a look at the details," O'Neill said stiffly. "The base proposal was sound, including the summary that crossed my desk. I was convinced it was a good thing…a great thing, actually. About a week later I remembered that our luck is never that good and had my people do some digging."

"What did they find?" Sam asked, curious despite her continuing despair.

"A rat's nest. How they planned to acquire a lot of these 'items' involved stepping on the toes of the 'minor' civilizations we've come across. A lot of the help we've been giving them for free was going to start carrying a price tag…a small one, they reasoned, to offset the large number of supplies we were dishing out without any return on our investment. It even sounded somewhat reasonable the way they spelled it out."

Sam looked at him. "What happened?"

"I took a long hard look at why we needed 'compensation' for helping people, and I started to realize I had my priorities all screwed up. Earth isn't the only planet in the galaxy, and we can't place our problems with the I.O.A. on other people's heads."

Sam squeezed her eyes shut in shame. "You're right."

"I usually am," O'Neill said sarcastically. "But I also know how to lose."

Sam looked up at him.

"Carter, you're just too stubborn to give up," he said louder. "You got it stuck in your head that the I.O.A. has to be fought…true enough. But there comes a time you've got to give up…when fighting them means you've got to go to the darkside in order to win. And when that happens, you don't win. You become the I.O.A."

Sam leaned forward and put her head in her hands with her chin resting on the edge of her cast. "You're right…you're exactly right."

O'Neill stood up and scooted closer. He sat down and put his arm over her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze. "No matter what you do, you're never going to convince me you're one of the bad guys. You might get your head screwed up from time to time, but on the inside I know you'll always be you. You just forgot for a while."

"That doesn't excuse what I did," Sam argued.

"No…but it explains it. And now that you know the score, I'm not worried."

"That makes one of us."

"You'll find your feet," O'Neill said. "And to that end, your leave has been canceled."

"What?" Sam asked, looking at him.

"I'm reassigning you," O'Neill said, standing up and walking toward the door.

"Where?"

"SG-1," he said, walking out the door with a wry smile on his face.

Daniel looked between the Doci and Stevenson in confusion. Had he heard him right? Did he just call Stevenson the Orici?

Daniel stared at his friend warily, wondering whose side he was really on.

Stevenson gave him a 'don't be stupid' look as he approached the Doci, who was frozen stiff in awe. "Why did you call me Orici?"

"Your face is known to all Priors," he said shakily. "It was burned into our memory the moment of our transformation. You are the Orici spoken of in the book of Origin."

Daniel saw Stevenson frown, and by the look on the Doci's face he was clearly conflicted. "What does the passage say?"

The Doci didn't take his eyes off Stevenson. "It is said that in the darkest of days, when evil has wrought great destruction and the fires of Celestis are no more, the Orici will appear to guide us back unto the path. He will relight the fire of the Gods, caste away the darkness, and share the knowledge and power of the universe with all those who join him on his quest to vanquish the evil ones in the far lands and bring the light to those who have known nothing but darkness."

This time it was Stevenson's eyes that widened in surprise, and Daniel could tell from his expression that the Doci's words rang true.

"What the hell is going on?" Daniel demanded. "Are you Alterran or Ori?"

"It seems I am both," Stevenson said dismissively. "How long have you been a prior?"

"Longer than I can recount," the Doci said. "Many centuries."

"Then you were given the memory of my face before I was born," Stevenson told him, not understanding it himself.

"That does not surprise me," the Doci said evenly. "Much of the Ori continues to defy reason. I do wonder, though, how the Orici can be one of those the Ori deemed evil. Do you know nothing of this?"

"No," Stevenson said.

"Why then, have you come to us? Daniel Jackson has said it was to aid us, to show us the error of our ways and show us the true path."

"Those weren't my exact words," Daniel protested.

"It is true that much of what the Ori told you has been lies, and though I have no knowledge of how this prophecy came into being…it is not one of them."

"What?!" Daniel asked.

Stevenson glanced at him. "More of that stuff I can't tell you."

"Well you'd better now," Daniel yelled at him. "Because from all appearances it looks like you're going to start a war with the ascended Ancients!"

"I can't," he said in a bickering voice. "Because even though this is far away from their domain, one of them might have followed me through the supergate and could be watching us even now."

"So you are their enemy," he accused him.

"They are my kin," Stevenson reminded him. "I am not their enemy. But they've made it clear that they have ulterior motives that run counter to my own. So I can't run the chance of them not liking what I have planned and move to stop me before I even get started."

"How have they made it clear?" Daniel asked as the Doci simply watched.

Stevenson frowned reluctantly. "Before you came to Atlantis I discovered a survivor of the plague. She was an Alterran, held in stasis, much like the one you discovered in Antarctica. I cured her of the plague, and not two minutes later they ascended her. They let her rot in stasis for millions of years and only bothered to 'help' her so that they could deny her to me. Now, does that sound like the actions of an ally to you?"

Daniel frowned as he thought. "You could have told me."

"There was no need to…until now."

"Why would they do that? It's their civilization you're attempting to rebuild."

"As I said, they have ulterior motives, whatever they are. I'm on my own, and I have to consider the possibility of them acting against me again at some point. And while I'd never turn against my own brothers and sisters, I can't assume the same for them. I should be able to, but who knows how being ascended for millions of years could have changed them. It's possible that they've become so disconnected from the corporeal realm that they don't see me as one of them and they no longer care about rebuilding our civilization."

"Again, why didn't you tell me?" Daniel said. "From my own experiences I'd have to say that's a distinct possibility. They were willing to let Anubis wipe out all life in the galaxy to appease their vaunted rules or who knows what else. I understand, and I want to help. I just don't see why you think you can't trust me. You can read my mind, so…"

Stevenson sighed. "It's not a matter of trust, Daniel. It's a matter of security. I can block the ascended from reading my mind."

"How?" Daniel said, frowning.

"Yet another thing I don't want them to know by picking your brain."

Daniel considered that and realized the nature of the situation Stevenson was in. As he did, Stevenson sifted through the possible ways that the Ori could have known about him. First off was some type of precognition, then there was time travel, or knowledge from an alternate reality similar to their own.

Another question was why would they want an Alterran to lead their people after they were gone…

Stevenson realized they must have foreseen their own death, which may well have been a factor in their war against the ascended Ancients. Perhaps it was in part a preemptive attack…their attempt to circumvent the future they foresaw by destroying the Ancients before they could destroy them.

But then there was the entire Ascended Empire to deal with. It occurred to Stevenson that perhaps the Ori didn't know the full extent of the Empire. It would have been suicide for them to have attempted to defeat it, no matter how much energy they sapped from their followers. But, if they didn't know its true size or power, or perhaps didn't know that it extended beyond the Alterrans, Lanteans, and a few others in the local area…

Lyran had said that information gathering was discouraged within the Empire. If that was true, then knowledge of the Empire on the outside had to be even scarcer. The Ori probably had no clue what they were up against…or maybe the Ascended Empire would have let the Ori kill off the Ancients, wearing themselves down in the process, then finish off what's left of the Ori and eliminate them as a possible threat.

There were too many possibilities and too little data to work from. Stevenson couldn't be sure of anything, but he was getting the distinct impression that the Ori didn't think it would be a cake walk. The prophecy that they'd gone so far as to include in the book of Origin and ingrain into the very memory of the priors may have been a backup in case they failed and their foretold doom came to pass.

If that was the case, then they may have known of the coming conflict between Stevenson and the ascended Ancients/Ascended Empire and sought to aid him simply out of spite for their enemies. It didn't matter that he'd tell the Ori followers the truth about their existence and reshape their civilization based on an Alterran model…they wanted revenge against those that killed them, or would kill them, and they saw him as the perfect, if not only way to do it.

The prophecy said as much, vague as it was. The relighting of the fires bit didn't quite fit...unless…

"Doci," Stevenson said a few seconds later. "The Ori told you part of the truth, I am here to complete that truth and show you way the into the full light. You will have to unlearn much of what you hold to be true, and I have no doubt it will be difficult for you, but if you can find the fortitude within you to endure the battle of wills to come, then I offer you the chance to walk the true path."

"You offer?" the Doci asked. "You do not command it?"

Stevenson shook his head. "True enlightenment cannot be forced."

"Is enlightenment even possible, or was that one of the Ori's lies?"

Stevenson nodded. "I have the power to ascend at any time I choose. I have not for several reasons. One is that my work is here. Another is that anyone who ascends will fall under the dominion of the others. The combined might of the Ori was insufficient to oppose them. We must remain flesh and blood, whereby they claim they have no right to interfere, in order to take the reigns of our own destiny. If that should ever change, then ascension is still a possibility that I can guarantee…should you prove yourselves worthy."

"We have done anything but that," the Doci said regretfully. "But I, for one, welcome a chance at redemption."

"That still leaves the question," Daniel interrupted, "of why would the Ori would want anything to do with an Alterran? There has to be a reason."

Stevenson was about to answer that with a half truth, but the Doci beat him to it.

"You spoke of a schism between yourself and the ascended ones," he said, looking at Stevenson for verification. "There is another passage from the book of Origin that answers your question, Daniel Jackson. 'He who is opposed, often seeks friends in the strangest of places.'"

"Enemy of my enemy is my friend," Daniel echoed.

"What is the current state of the people?" Stevenson asked.

"Many still believe in the teachings of Origin," the Doci said, regretfully, "despite what we have told them. Those that do have been exploited by a small group of Priors that seek power for themselves. They still proclaim the Ori are gods, despite the truth they were shown. The people who serve them do so now as they always have."

"Wait a minute," Daniel interrupted. "Are you saying the people don't know the truth? I thought the Ark…" he said, cutting himself off as he realized their mistake. "The Ark only affected the Priors."

The Doci nodded. "And through us, we relayed to them the truth. Many could not accept it. Fighting arose, which we in turn attempted to quell using our powers and knowledge. We were successful for a time, until a rift formed between those that sought to return to the teachings of Origin and those that did not. Celestis was destroyed by the later, and even now the fighting continues."

Daniel glanced at Stevenson. "Looks like you're the only way to stop it…which the Ori probably also foresaw."

"How many ships remain?" Stevenson asked.

"To my knowledge, there are thirty four…but even now more are being built by both factions. Those of us still loyal to the book of Origin, yet refuse to close our eyes to the truth have retained four ships. They await your command, Orici."

"Summon them," Stevenson said, standing a bit straighter. "All of them. Has the stargate on this world also been destroyed?"

"No. It remains in the forest on the edge of the plains that surround Celestis."

Stevenson nodded. "Then summon all priors to come here immediately, whether by gate or my ship…but see to it that the ships loyal to you arrive here first."

The Doci bowed slightly, with a serene expression on his face. "Yes, Orici…and thank you."

"For the record," he added. "My name is Stevenson. You may address me as such in private."

The Doci almost cracked a smile, but didn't say a word. He nodded in respect then walked toward the stairs, leaving Daniel and Stevenson alone in the vault of herebis.

"Are you nuts?" Daniel whispered. "You're going to bring all of them here?"

"The Orici commands, Daniel. He does not ask. I have to be forceful. It's what they expect."

"They may very well kill each other once they get here," he argued.

"I know, but I suspect most of them are as desperate as the Doci. They need someone to command them. It's been ingrained into them. And if my face is known to all Priors as the Orici from the book of Origin, then that should solve half the problem right there."

"Because one side still believes in Origin," Daniel said, catching on, "and you figure you can reason with the others."

Stevenson nodded. "I am Alterra. That will never change. And with the Doci supporting me, I expect a lot of the others will automatically fall into line once the chain of command is reestablished."

"Sounds a bit optimistic," Daniel said, "but I guess it's worth a shot."

"If it wouldn't work, then the Ori wouldn't have gone to the trouble to set this up."

Daniel tilted his head in thought. "Good point."

Stevenson raised an eyebrow. "Now, for you. I need a favor."

"What?" Daniel asked, curious.

"I need you to leave…now."

Daniel thought for a moment. "Because we're not part of the Ori."

Stevenson nodded. "And I need you to run an errand for me."

"An errand?"

"I need you to build me a high security stargate and bring it back here."

"A yellow gate?" he asked, shocked. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Stevenson reached forward and touched his fingers to Daniel's forehead. Two seconds later he released the connection.

Daniel blinked his eyes. "Oh…I can do that."