Author's Note:

Happy Christmas and a merry new year to you all! I'm on break from college so that means I have time to do some writing! I have not forgotten about this fic and am actually hoping to finish it over winter break, but figured I'd spread the holiday cheer by posting what I have for updates so far.

Before you read on, know that I intended this to be a lighthearted (ha!) sequel to my last fic, which left off hinting at a relationship blossoming between two members of the SGC. Will that happen? I have no idea. I know some people are on board with that ship and others aren't, so maybe the muse will allow me to write two versions—one with that ship and one without. Feel free to leave your outrage (or approval) of that 'ship in a review for Chapter five, which is where you will see what I am talking about. Happy reading and here's hoping I am able to update more soon!

Chapter Four

Seven Months Ago

"Rise and shine."

A set of blue eyes popped open. "Where am I?"

"Better question for ya," the man with a southern drawl countered, "who are you?"

He squinted his eyes and frowned, unable to see the man speaking to him clearly and finding that he was unable to answer the question. "I..I don't know."

"Yup, I got nothing either. Neither does this guy." He threw his thumb in the direction of the man standing behind him.

The man came over, clutching his black hat in both hands. "My name's Reynolds. We, uh...we were really hoping you could tell us something."

He sat up, taking the glasses the man with the southern accent handed him. "Well, Reynolds, if you know that much about yourself then I would say you have me beat." He opened his eyes wide and blinked a few times as his sight adjusted, allowing him to take in his surroundings and the two men across from him.

"It says so, on these things," the southern man explained as he hooked his finger threw what looked to be a necklace. "Mine says 'Mitchell, Cameron.'"

He waited expectantly for a moment before asking, "Well which do you prefer?"

He shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I don't even remember being named." He groaned, plopping down on the bed across from him. "Sorry. Mitchell is fine, I guess. You don't have one, by the way."

"Why would I?" he asked as he blinked at the two strange men who were now looking pointedly between each other and him. He noticed now that they were wearing the same outfits. Uniforms! They were both donned in black military uniforms. He realized as he glanced down to his attire that he was dressed the same way as them. "Okay, so we're on a team. Good to know. Anyone know how we got here?"

"You came through the Circle of the Gods," a woman's voice responded.

They all turned to find an elderly woman, quite thin and frail but yet fearsome in her own respect, standing in the doorway. Her silver hair cascaded just past her shoulders and she was wearing a long blue dress, a gray shawl hanging loosely off her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes held equal parts wisdom and weariness. She commanded their respect as she entered and seated herself on the bed next to Mitchell.

"Why can't we remember who we are?" he asked her quietly, both Reynolds and Mitchell sitting up a little straighter at the question.

"It is the same for all who come through the Circle of the Gods," she answered, her voice just as quiet. "We do not know why. There are many of us here and in the surrounding villages that have ancestors who first rooted this planet with life. Then there are those who come to us. It is said that when the Gods first sent our ancestors to these lands through their great Circle that they did so as a punishment. Our ancestors had displeased the Gods and were to be put to death. But the Gods loved their children, and so in an act of compassion and mercy, allowed them to live but took away all knowledge of who they were. Husbands, wives, daughters, sons, all became strangers to one another. Life went on and new children were born in these lands for many generations. And the Gods continue to send the punished through their Circle to us. It is our charge to care for them until we have redeemed ourselves for the crimes of old."

"That's quite a heavy burden," he whispered, taking his glasses off momentarily to rub his eyes. "Thank you for caring for us."

Mitchell leaned forward, eyes full of doubt. "If there is anything you could tell us about how we got here, anything we said..."

She patted Mitchell's leg gently as she rose. "You have said nothing, but you each carried things with you. Your packs are in the next room." She paused, placing a soft hand on the side of the blue eyed man's cheek. "Might I suggest you let go of the past. Many have tried to recover it, but all have failed. Some have become consumed by their need to remember and their inability has consequently driven them mad." She smiled as he nodded his understanding, gesturing for them to follow her.

Their packs were lined up against the wall just inside of the next room. There was a large window next to a door that showed them the street, where a few people were walking and going about their business. Directly across from the window was another doorway, a thin sheet hanging from it for privacy. The elder woman slipped through it as his teammates began digging through their packs.

"Yo," Cameron called out. "Looks like we solved the mystery of your name. It's Jackson."

"How?" Jackson asked as he crossed the room and continued looking around.

"Our packs are labeled," Reynolds explained as he gestured to the open flap with a name label across the inside. "The last one says 'Dr D. Jackson' so that has to be you."

"Doctor?" He repeated with a frown. Reynolds began to explain that 'D' must stand for something, but he was no longer listening as he peered around the sheet into the next room. The elderly woman was tending to another much younger woman with raven black hair who lay peacefully asleep. There was a bandage on her head and as Daniel watched the woman, her eyes slowly opened to meet his. She gave him a weak smile that he returned with a wave before the elderly woman came to the doorway and shooed him away.

"She needs her rest," she chided.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. What happened to her?"

"She came through the Circle of the Gods, just as you did, though a few moons before. She was injured and has only come awake a few times before now." Her brown eyes scrutinized him. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. She just looked...nice, I guess. I'm sorry to hear that she hasn't been well. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, child. She has care enough. You must tend to yourselves." She walked to the door, opening it enough to peer outside and gesture for someone to come. "My name is Emma. I am the leader of the village. Tomas here will show you to your quarters and help you find a change of clothes. We recommend that you put these that you wear now away as it only serves as a reminder of lives that you no longer lead."

"You've done this a lot, haven't you?" Reynolds asked.

She gave a weary smile. "More times than I care to have, but it is the burden we must bear if we are ever to win the Gods' favor. Tomas will show you the village as well and tomorrow we will try to find work for you. I must tend to my patient for now. I bid you good evening."

It was three days before Jackson saw her again, the woman with the raven hair. He and Cameron were repairing a stall in the market when she came by, Emma guiding her by the arm as if she was still not at full strength.

Cameron whistled softly to himself. "Hello hotness."

Jackson raised a brow at him, noticing that they were both admiring the same woman. "She must be pretty bad off to need Emma's help still."

"How long did Emma say she's been here?" he asked as he leaned against the next stall and took a sip of water.

"A few days to a week I think. She said she got here a few moons before us," he answered as he hammered a piece of wood into place.

"Ya know," Cameron began as he took a step closer to Jackson, his eyes making sure no one was listening in, "I find it kinda funny that we remember how to talk, know what a week is, a hammer, but yet we don't have the faintest idea as to who we are or where we came from."

He studied his teammate for a moment. "What are you saying?"

"What if they did this to us? Made us forget who we are somehow?"

Jackson shook his head. "Emma showed me some of their history yesterday. What she said was true, their descendents were sent here without any knowledge of who they were but yet they still retained their knowledge of how to live."

Cameron leaned his hands against the stall and pushed himself back in frustration. "There's got to be a way to undo it though." His musings were cut short as he noticed the raven haired woman coming their way. "She's heading our way, man!"

"What, who?" He looked around obliviously until he locked eyes with the woman, her gray eyes shining as she gave him a small smile. He returned it with one much larger than he had intended.

"Aww don't tell me you're gonna pull the 'I saw her first' card," Cameron muttered as he noticed their exchange.

Jackson felt his face flush with embarrassment. "What? No, of course not." He paused as he thought this over and turned to his friend to ask, "Would it work?" but was answered with only narrowed eyes.

"Hello," came a somewhat raspy but yet smooth and accented voice.

When Jackson failed to do anything but grin, Cameron stepped forward and held out his hand. "How do you do, ma'am." He took her hand in his and gave it a light kiss with a wink. "I'm Cameron and this is Jackson."

"Nice to meet you, Cam. I'm Val."

"Vala, dear," Emma corrected.

She shook her head, glancing to Jackson. "Right, sorry. Vala it is apparently. Tomas told me that there were new arrivals." She smiled at them both. "I feel rather new myself so I thought I might say hello."

The grin Jackson was wearing wilted a little at Emma's disapproving look. "Well, I'm glad you did," he spoke up. "I take it you don't remember anything either."

"No," she seemed a bit reassured by their similar situations. "Well, I guess I should let you two get back to work. I hope to see you around."

Cameron crossed his arms over his chest, noticing how she was mostly speaking to Jackson. "Yea, I'm sure we'll have loads to talk about." All three looked at him in question. "What? It was a joke. Because we don't remember anything. Lots to talk about? Get it?"

She gave a faint laugh. "Right. Well, it was nice to meet you both."

Jackson watched as she walked away and once she was out of earshot, he turned to Cameron and simply said, "Dibs."