'Fighter Pilot,
send your fire deep into the enemy...
They wave their flags but you won't see them
for men weren't made to fly.'

"Fighter Pilot" ~ Sanders Bohlke

Ratatouille is a stunningly beautiful dish. Oranges, pinks, reds, even some greens. Akin to the layered strata of a planet.

Ruined ratatouille, however, is just about the worst, corpse-like mosaic ever witnessed.

The colours of ruined ratatouille exploded behind Daniel's eyes when a boot connected with his broken rib.

"Up and at 'em. We don't have all day."

"Boss wants to get moving."

Daniel hated that he was starting to recognize these voices. More muttering.

Someone moaned to Daniel's right. Wiggling his fingers, he realized surgical tape bound his wrists.

Opening his eyes seemed Herculean with the amount of effort required, but Daniel managed it.

He exhaled in relief. "Oh, Hughes. Thank goodness. Is Sam with you? I wasn't sure how long it would take you guys to find me…"

The three men stood behind Steel Hughes and didn't look at all concerned about it. One even clapped Steel on the shoulder.

"Good work, gentlemen," said Hughes. "Reilly would be proud."

The tactical team lowered their heads and nodded solemnly. Daniel's blood ran cold. He wracked his brain to make sense of this.

They'd caught Jack too. He slumped over his knees, eyes half lidded.

Even Daniel, no medical expert, knew things were critical. The general's furious energy of hours earlier seemed a lifetime ago.

Daniel did the mental math and sobbed—Jack only had hours left. The archaeologist trembled with exhaustion and fear.

Hughes knelt next to Daniel's head.

Daniel tried to pull away but Hughes grabbed a fistful of his hair. "I have waited a long time for this day. Sixteen years, in fact. Can you believe it, that it should take such a long time to make things right? Now I know the truth. And you, Dr. Jackson, are going to pay for it."

Before Daniel could process these words, Hughes yanked him to his feet—by his hair. Daniel's headache skyrocketed. Hughes shoved a pair of crutches at Daniel and unbound his wrists so he could use them.

One of the men slung Jack over his shoulder like potatoes. The general was limp, unresponsive.

They bully marched to the 'gate at a grueling, very telling pace. Whatever happened next, Daniel knew Hughes didn't intend for them to live through it. Injuries were tended to only long enough to keep moving.

Though the terrain was uneven, at least the crutches kept Daniel from falling.

Small mercies.

Daniel halted altogether when they arrived at the 'gate. His mouth dropped open and a pained cry wailed out, shattered and manic.

On the grass lay a neat row of five bodies. Blood had crusted on their foreheads.

"Sam!" Daniel tried to bolt to her.

A rough hand dragged him back by the neck but Daniel fought it. Black spots prickled his vision.

"Leave them," said Hughes. "The SGC will be through soon enough to dispose of them."

"What did you do?" Daniel railed. "Sam! Let me go! Sam!"

He was in such a frenzy that he didn't realize they'd dialed the 'gate. The men hauled Daniel through, still clawing and fighting.

Deja vu. This is exactly how Jack had yanked him home two years ago.

Now, the sight of Sam's unmoving body broke Daniel's hope.

SG-1 is dying, one at a time.

Daniel must have hazed out because by the time he caught his breath, he was seated under a steel structure on a totally different planet. He thought of running but knew it was useless.

He'd never leave Jack here.

There were tents set up beside the stargtate, maps and SG-1 personnel files scattered across a table. No sight of Jack.

"Base camp," said Hughes, catching his eye. "I trust you're finished with the childish tantrums."

"Who are you?" Daniel demanded. He coughed and something sprayed the dirt at his feet. "What do you want with Jack? Whatever he's done—"

"You still don't get it, do you?" Hughes looked genuinely taken aback. "Four of the greatest minds in human history and I manipulated you for two years."

Daniel stiffened. His wrists ached…his everything ached.

"This was never about General O'Neill," Hughes went on, red creeping up his neck. "He was a pawn to lure you here. Plus, I needed him to get the other Scrambler for me."

Daniel's eyes lowered, shifting back and forth while he thought. "I activated the first Scrambler we found. Jack could never…never make it work, not in a thousand years. I think it's because I picked it up first."

Hughes smiled. "Now you're catching on. Cosmic artifacts always come with a companion. They operate like baby ducklings upon a mother, imprinted on their chooser."

A physical start ran through Daniel. "You need Jack's touch to activate it. It doesn't work for you because Jack found it first."

"There we go."

"It isn't safe," said Daniel. "We could barely get back home the first time. It took us to the past, the far future—"

Steel snapped his fingers and one of the men came over with the Scrambler, the complex silver carvings on the orb glinting by a strong noon sun. The others began to pack up and load their guns with fresh rounds.

"Do you know what this says?" asked Hughes. "It took Shamda days to translate, but I'm sure your quick mind can do it in a minute."

Daniel physically bristled, taut. "What did you do to Shamda?"

"That isn't the point. What does it say?"

Daniel leveled a long glare at Hughes and then turned the scroll work around in his fingers, careful not to twist it. He squinted at the glyphs.

"History," he said. "It's talking about personal…"

His head whipped around. "This takes the imprinter—Jack—to any date in his history. His timeline."

Hughes flashed a delighted, wicked smile that made Daniel's heart sink just looking at it. Understanding came with the heavy slime of dread in his gut.

"Who are you? Really?" he asked again. "When did you intersect Jack's life?"

"I didn't," said Hughes. "You did. Therein is my problem."

Daniel leaned back as if struck.

Hughes sat down on a crate in front of Daniel and scanned Daniel's face, brows working.

"My revenge was supposed to be over and done with two years ago, you know." He said it quietly, with a polite inflection. "You would go to PX-725 and its temple. The hidden mechanism in the floor would release and poof! I would have the satisfaction of reading the mission report on your gruesome death."

Memories assailed from every side. Daniel struggled to hear Hughes over the screams in his mind.

"I didn't anticipate you and Vala stepping on that floor tile at the same time."

"Jack had to make a choice," Daniel choked out. "He…He could only grab one of us before the spears hit. And Cam…he…tried to go back in for Vala. He stepped on…the ceiling slammed down like a wall…"

Daniel's face skewed and he hid it behind an unsteady hand.

"Jack's instinctive response to protect you made me realize something." Hughes leaned in, voice hot and low.

"Emotional death is so much better than physical. I didn't have to kill you to get justice: I could suck the last measure of faith left in you. I could make you feel what I felt sixteen years ago."

What is he talking about? Daniel had met Jack sixteen years ago, but surely that couldn't be the cause of Hughes' bitterness.

"You two are like brothers, no?"

Daniel didn't answer. He couldn't.

"How would you feel if you lost him?" Hughes asked.

"I already have," Daniel whispered. "Jack's decision to save me instead of Vala tore us apart."

"What if you had to watch him suffer? Slowly. Dying from the inside out…"

Daniel's eyes widened.

"You couldn't even tell his family how he had died light years from earth from an alien substance." Hughes' silky tone was coy, taunting. His face flushed a purple crimson now, all stifled heat and hatred.

"What do you want from me?" Daniel finally looked him in the eye.

"I want you the person you care about most to die while you watch, unable to do anything, and know that it was your fault."

Daniel's ears rang. He'd been imprisoned, beaten, nearly electrocuted to death on missions through the years but nothing…nothing compared to the horror of what was happening now.

Hughes stood and addressed his men. "Get me O'Neill. It's time to change history."

Jack's legs couldn't support him anymore, so two men hooked his arms and dragged him from a hidden alcove. Hughes handed him the Scrambler and whispered something in Jack's ear.

Jack's pained squint dropped. He bit his lip.

Hughes stepped back. "Focus on that memory, General. You need to right a wrong."

Jack's listless eyes roved over the Scrambler.

"You watched Dr. Jackson do it countless times," Hughes coaxed.

Jack snapped up. "Danny?"

"I'm right here, Jack." Daniel swallowed. "I'm not leaving you, not this time."

"That's right." Hughes seemed thrilled using Jack and Daniel's bond to destroy them. "Twist the two cores…it can read your thoughts…"

Jack's hands obediently twisted the two halves of the Scrambler. They parted to reveal a smaller sphere inside. He pressed the glyphs and twisted that too, in the opposite direction.

A high droning filled the air and Daniel's hair stood on end, like he'd rubbed it with a balloon.

Clouds filled the sky.

Jack began to glow, his eyes like chevrons engaging all at once in a stunning and horrible glow of stardust. His body dematerialized in powdered sugar specks of light.

The men rushed to place a hand on him. Daniel could only gape.

This Scrambler doesn't need a stargate to work, like the other one.

Jack was the portal this time, the portal to his own life.

"After all these years!" Hughes put a hand to his heart. He laughed, shaky. "Gentlemen, onward to the past."