A/N: All right, don't get too spoiled. I'm sure I won't be putting out two chapters in this quick a succession again anytime soon! Apparently, however, all that turkey on Thursday fueled my muse, because this one just rolled off my fingers.

By the way, I've decided that in this story, Kinsey is currently working "underground" with the NID. Even though he's out of politics (after getting canned as VP), he still has close ties to the Intelligence Oversight Committee – pretty much the way things were at the end of season 7. I realize my timing does not jive with the show's cannon. I set Reap sometime around mid-season 8. Tack on a year for the events of Reap and the start of Path, and you're at least mid-season 9… which puts Kinsey in deep do-do with the Trust and possibly even dead. But hey, I figure that the events of Reap pretty much throw all cannon post season-8 out the window. (e.g., Jacob is still alive in my version of events.) Besides, in this story, I'm in charge, not the show's writers! (Ah, the beauty of fanfic!) So to heck with the timeline. Okay?

Okay.

Anyway, enjoy.

Daniel looked into the lovely, familiar face of his wife and fought to keep from gaping like a fish out of water. "Sha're," he exclaimed quietly, "How…?" He paused, clearing his throat, trying to formulate a question that wouldn't sound ridiculous.

As Sha're noticed the shocked, disbelieving expressions on the faces before her, a cloud passed over her features. "Daniel?" she asked quietly, "Did I do something wrong?"

Her words, again, were in English.

In spite of his dazed curiosity, Daniel saw fear creeping onto her features and rushed to her side without hesitation. Dropping to his knees, he took hold of her small hands. "No, of course not," he said gently. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he tried to sound calm and unruffled as he spoke. "We're just surprised," he said softly. "Sha're, you're using my language."

Eyes widening, Sha're seemed to suddenly realize the truth of his words. "How?" she whispered on an uncertain breath.

Daniel shook his head. "I have no idea," he said honestly. "But I think it might have something to do with the device that brought you here."

She regarded him solemnly. "Is it dangerous?" she asked quietly.

Again, Daniel was at a loss. "I wish I knew," he said gravely. "But my friends and I just found something that might give us some answers. That's why I haven't been here in a few days. We were looking for help."

Sha're nodded slightly. "I trust you, Daniel." Gently extricating one of her hands from his reassuring grasp, she reached up and brushed her delicate fingers along his cheekbone.

Humbled by the pure, unshakable faith which shone in her dark eyes, Daniel felt his heart lurch in his chest. The past few weeks had been like something out of a dream. The entire sequence of events was so surreal and unexplainable that he really wouldn't be surprised if a blaring alarm clock jerked him awake at any moment. Still, the aching weariness in his bones was real enough, as was the smooth texture of Sha're's fingers on his face.

The soft creaking of a door on its hinges pulled Daniel's gaze to the room's entrance. Standing there, looking somewhat apologetic for interrupting, was Sam. "Hi," she said quietly, giving a little wave. Smiling at the doctor who still stood beside the door, Sam stepped into the room. "Dr. Brightman left a message at my lab to drop by when I got a chance," she explained. Then, seeing the frail woman in the wheelchair, Sam's smile widened. "Wow, she's looking much better."

Sha're returned Sam's smile with one of her own. "I feel much better," she said happily.

Sam's jaw dropped as her eyes flew to Daniel's. "I thought you said she was from a timeline that had never encountered the SGC?"

Daniel nodded, still holding Sha're's other hand gently. "She is," he replied.

"But-" Sam's face clearly reflected her confusion.

Daniel cut her off before she could finish her statement. "I know," he said simply. "And I have no idea how it's possible."

Taking a moment to collect herself, Sam looked at the dark-haired woman in the wheelchair with unabashed curiosity. Then, suddenly realizing what she was doing, Sam mentally shook herself and snapped to attention. "I'm sorry," she said, addressing Sha're, "it's terribly rude of me to speak as if you're not here." Walking forward, she offered her hand to the lovely woman. "I'm Samantha O'Neill, a friend of Daniel's."

Sha're reached up with her free hand and softly took Sam's in a wobbly handshake. The gesture looked a bit uncertain, as if she wasn't quite sure what was expected of her. "I am happy to meet you, Samantha O'Neill."

"Please, call me Sam." Glancing briefly at Daniel, Sam was warmed by the obvious contentment reflected in his blue eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked, returning her attention to the frail woman in the wheelchair.

Sha're smiled. "I am well, actually. My muscles are sore, but I am in good spirits." She, too, looked at Daniel as she spoke. "I was worried when Daniel did not visit me for several days, but he tells me that he was busy finding something that might help me."

Sam nodded. "I was with him, actually."

Suddenly looking alarmed, Sha're glanced back and forth between the two SG-1 teammates as a new possibility struck her. "You were together?" She paused, seeming to gather her courage before continuing. "Are you married, then?"

Daniel choked slightly at the innocent question. "No, nothing like that," he rushed to answer. Seeing Sam's cheeks grow pink, he couldn't help smiling. This wouldn't be the first time someone had mistaken his working relationship with Sam for something more intimate. Looking into Sha're's eyes, he shook his head as he explained. "Sam is a colleague and a friend of mine. She's also married to another member of our team."

Sha're's expression grew pensive as she gazed absently into space. Thoughts flickered over her features as she seemed to seek the answer to a question just out of reach. Then, suddenly, a light flared in her dark eyes. "Jack," she said certainly. "Jack O'Neill is her husband."

Sam and Daniel exchanged mystified looks. "That's right," Sam said faintly. "How did you know that?"

Sha're blinked hesitantly. "Honestly, I cannot explain it. When you told me your name, I felt something familiar tugging at my memory. But it was only when Daniel mentioned your marriage to a teammate that I realized I knew something more." She looked at Daniel with a good deal of fear in her eyes. "These strange thoughts of mine… they cannot be routine, even in a society with as much technology as yours."

Daniel was forced to agree, though it pained him to see the apprehension on her features. "No, this is definitely not routine." Squeezing her cool hand gently, he looked into her eyes as reassuringly as possible. "But we'll figure it out, I promise."

Sha're seemed comforted by his words. "Thank you Daniel." Then, looking suddenly tired, she blinked wearily. "I think I would like to lie down now," she said faintly.

Daniel had forgotten about Dr. Brightman's presence in the room, but as soon as his wife mentioned her fatigue, the doctor instantly stepped in from the doorway. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave," she said to Sam. Then, looking at Daniel, she continued to speak firmly. "You really should get some rest as well," she suggested. "You won't do her any good if you collapse from exhaustion."

Daniel looked as if he might object when a delicate squeeze on his fingers brought his attention back to Sha're. "Daniel," she whispered, "I am just tired. I'll sleep better knowing that you, too, are getting rest."

Reluctantly, Daniel accepted the words of both women and nodded. Rising to his feet, he couldn't resist the urge to place a quick, soft kiss on Sha're's forehead. Almost surprised by his own actions, Daniel blinked uncertainly as he backed away from her. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly.

Sha're looked into his eyes with a soft smile. "Dream sweetly," she whispered, reverting to the Ancient Egyptian dialect that her people on Abydos used.

Feeling fingers of tender emotion wrapping themselves around his heart, Daniel could only nod a mute reply. Then, with reluctant steps, he forced himself to leave her room.

Before he could return to his quarters for some much-needed sleep, Daniel decided to drop in on the meeting that was undoubtedly being held in the briefing room. He'd been part of the SGC long enough to understand that no one was going to be sitting idly by waiting for clues to fall from the sky. Jack would have as many people as possible working toward answers in this matter. Still, Daniel also knew that there were other people involved in making decisions when the military was involved. Jack was the base commander, but even he was not immune to the politics that permeated every aspect of military life at these levels. Much as his somewhat-rebellious friend might hate the bureaucratic red tape associated with his job, he was sometimes powerless to avoid it.

Cutting through the control room, Daniel was exhausted enough that he barely acknowledged the respectful nods of the marines posted at the doorway. The day – hell, the entire week – had been long, brutally physical, and emotionally draining. Still, he knew he'd sleep easier if he understood what the military had in mind regarding his alternate-reality wife. Daniel hoped he could count on unwavering support, but he wasn't about to stake Sha're's future on it.

Halfway up the staircase that led to the briefing room, Daniel heard voices deeply engaged in conversation. He could tell from the heated tones being used that his caution regarding the military was warranted.

"…but under the circumstances, I think we owe it to both of them!" The words, forcefully spoken by Jack, were punctuated by a slamming noise that Daniel assumed to be Jack's fist colliding with the conference table. Curious as to whom he could be arguing so vehemently with, Daniel paused in his ascent and listened.

"With all due respect, General, I disagree with your assessment. The SGC doesn't owe Doctor Jackson more than his fairly-earned paycheck. And before you start in with another long-winded account of the good doctor's most recent acts of heroism, let me remind you that the men and women of this base all act heroically when called to. That is the basis of military life." Those words, uttered crisply and with little emotion, caused Daniel's heart to sink slowly into his stomach – not because the statements themselves were particularly disturbing, but because of the person who spoke them. Richard Woolsey, NID lawyer and lapdog of former Vice President Kinsey was as meticulous as he was cold. Daniel had little respect for any man who willingly cooperated with Kinsey, and even less for someone who could callously count the value of hard-working military personnel in nothing more than dollars and cents.

Jack, apparently, shared that sentiment, as his response to Woolsey's analysis was a loud, inelegant snort. "And you, of course, would be in a perfect position to tell me about the basis of military life." Daniel could hear the raw disdain in his friend's voice. "How many years did you serve?" After the briefest of pauses, Jack barreled ahead. "Oh, that's right! None. And your civilian career with the Army Corps ended oh-so-well, didn't it? I seem to recall your resignation being demanded."

Though Daniel couldn't see Woolsey bristle at Jack's words, he could imagine the look on the lawyer's face by the chill that passed through the room. "I was asked to resign because of the possible appearance of impropriety. I did nothing wrong."

Jack snorted again. "That just tells me that you were slippery enough to avoid being prosecuted. It hardly makes you innocent." Taking a deep, steadying breath, Jack seemed to collect his ragged thoughts and push ahead. "The fact is, Dick, I don't give a rat's ass what it costs. We're going to figure out what's behind these unexplained incidents – not because it might help fill our need for new technology, but because it's the right thing to do." Daniel could practically hear Jack's eyes narrowing as he continued. "That's the part of this you just don't get. If we were just talking about possible new weaponry, you could put a price tag on what it costs the SGC and decide if the number is justifiable. But when you're on my base and you're talking about the lives of my people, then you can just forget about the price tag, Woolsey. It doesn't matter. We're going to follow through no matter what the cost is."

The lawyer, however, remained unimpressed. "I might remind you, General, that this is not your base. It belongs to the taxpayers. And as a representative of the Intelligence Oversight Committee, I represent them."

Daniel decided that this would be a good moment to interrupt. Walking quickly up the last few steps, he spoke with as much quiet contempt as he could muster. "Yes, Mr. Woolsey, but you're not the only one who represents them." Daniel caught Jack's surprised look as he stepped into the middle of the conversation. He was also aware of similar looks from Teal'c and Sam, both of whom sat silently around the conference table, absorbing the argument with grim faces. He only hoped that his unexpected appearance put Woolsey as off-balance as his friends seemed to be. Turning to the scowling lawyer, he finished his thought. "After all, the president is commander-in-chief of the military which runs this base. Additionally, the Stargate program operates under a presidential directive, not a congressional order. So, in actuality, the opinion which really matters right now is not yours at all." Turning to Jack, he raised an eyebrow. "Care to use your red phone and settle this once and for all?"

Woolsey's face grew even more pinched than usual at Daniel's assessment. "That won't be necessary." Everyone in the room knew that Jack was in high favor with the president at the moment – certainly much higher than Woolsey, the NID, or the Intelligence Oversight Committee, given the recent disgraceful conduct of Kinsey. Still, the man didn't look ready to give up completely. "But be aware, General; if this flagrant misuse of government dollars persists, I will be forced to take action, even if that means going to the president." With that, Woolsey stood abruptly and snapped his briefcase shut. Fixing Jack with a final, venomous glare, he stiffly turned and marched down the stairs leading out of the briefing room.

Daniel carefully watched his tweed-covered back retreat down the stairs, making sure he didn't stop to repeat his own eavesdropping routine. When he was certain that the callous lawyer was safely out of earshot, he released a tense sigh and sank down into one of the room's conference chairs. "That was unpleasant," he muttered darkly.

Sam nodded her head in agreement. "At least we can ignore most of what he said," she said optimistically.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Most of what he said? How about all of what he said?"

Chewing on her lip, Sam shrugged. "Well, the sentiment behind his reasoning really sucks, but you have to admit, we do have some major questions to answer."

Daniel exchanged uneasy glances with Jack. Both of them knew from past experience that Sam's logic was usually dead-on. If there were going to be potential problems, she'd think of them, though Daniel loathed to admit it. "Like what?" he asked reluctantly.

Sam exhaled sharply. "Well, for starters, is it possible to send her back? And if so, how do we send her back? And if we do manage to figure out how to send her back, where and when do we send her? For that matter, should we send her anywhere?" Sam shook her head slowly. "We have no idea what her reappearance would do to her home timeline, given all the new information in her head." Suddenly, she paused, looking completely overwhelmed. "Heck, we don't even know what her appearance will do to this timeline." Sam blinked, trying to clear her head. "The potential for screw-ups is absolutely limitless when you're dealing with alternate realities." She looked her other teammates in the eyes as she finished her thoughts. "Our dealings with the quantum mirror proved that one pretty soundly."

Jack closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his chair. "Well, Carter," he said after a moment, "Given that we have absolutely no answers for any of those questions, I vote we start by looking into the first one."

Sam wrinkled her brow, trying to remember which question she'd asked first.

"Can we send her back?" Daniel supplied quietly.

As one, Jack, Sam and Teal'c turned to the weary archaeologist and examined him carefully. They all knew what rested on the outcome of their inquiries.

Sam nodded slowly. "I guess it's as good a place to start as any," she murmured. Then, looking her friend in the eye, she reached across the conference table and laid a hand on his. "Daniel," she said quietly, "None of those questions I asked has a right or wrong answer. Even if we do manage to figure out how the Ring works, we might never get a clear answer on what to do next. The decision will ultimately rest with our best scientific guesswork and with Sha're's wishes." She smiled faintly as she continued. "I'd be willing to bet that her wishes will rest heavily on yours."

Daniel returned Sam's smile as best as he could. "Thanks, Sam," he replied softly. Then, looking down at the table, he sighed. "I just want what's best for her."

Jack nodded from across the table. "We all do, Daniel." Sharing a meaningful look with his wife, he sighed deeply. "We all do."